Mr Miyagi Pegging Me With Plums.

Someone is a lot more ready for today than I am. Do you love the bedhead?

Last night, pre-”Mad Men”, I engaged in a little “twitter chat” or “tweet up” called #runchat and they were talking about what you say to yourself to keep going when you hit the wall. There was a myriad of responses from “just keep going” to “you’re strong, you can do this” to someone saying they revert back to their karate training, and remember that running is easy compared to karate. When they said that, all I could think was “push on, push off” and Mr Miyagi chasing me with a banzai tree.

The only people that (admitted) to using the F word in their heads were two New Yorkers; me, and Scott (@iRunnerBlog). He says he just repeats the word over and over again in his head, where as I say “F#ck this, you got this!”. Sometimes, out loud. We then mused about how, in NYC, no one even blinks at this. The F word is as ubiquitous as “yo”, in these parts. I don’t use it in front of kids, but I use it frequently–more frequently than I would like.

I’ve written before about my struggles with this word, and have tried to give it up about 2x a year with little success. So I found myself at a crossroads; do I accept it as just a part of who I am, not only as a New Yorker, but profound lover of words, their intonations being as important as their definitions; or do I ditch it entirely, relying on lesser substitutes for strong emotion?

When you are driving alone; and you’re cut off in traffic, does anything REALLY feel as good as screaming the F word and other choice vocabulary at the other driver in such beautiful fashion it’s like an entire concerto rolling off of your tongue? I mean, have you ever DRIVEN in New Jersey? I am going to go out on a limb and say that a requirement to get your Jersey license is how to drive while straddling two lanes and nearly hitting every single oncoming car in the Short Hills Mall parking lot.

I truly believe I have but only two options; A: shock collar. Simple. Effective. B: find someone to swear for me by proxy. They would be like a reverse whipping boy, spewing out a line of swear words as long or as short as needed, directed by one wink from me. It could be a beautiful relationship.

To be honest, sometimes, when things are hard, like running or turning down a giant slice of applesauce cake, you just want to swear. At mile 18 of a 20 mile run, sometimes, nothing makes more sense than “Just f#cking run, Cat. Just f%cking run”.

I’ve chosen to embrace my inner Brooklyn, to love the language as much as the cannoli; to accept the fact I love the f word as much as others do not. I accept the fact I shouldn’t/wouldn’t say it in front of certain people and mini-people.

I simply cannot abide by perpetually turning down cake, though. Sometimes, it’s just needed. My capricious nature toward baked goods is why I learned to bake in the first place, I may not always know what I want, but I can always make something. Last night that something turned out to be magic. Just call me Julia Copperchild.

I give you the most moist, delicious, fruit topped corn cake you’ve ever had. Cornmeal cakes are very popular in certain regions of Italy, and are laden with olive oil or butter and dozens of eggs, Giada DiLaurentis’ soul, and a dagger’s worth of sugar. My recipe has none of these things and tastes JUST as good. I promise. (ok, it has a little of Giada DiLaurentis’ soul in it)

Plum Corn Cakes “cakelets” corn tarts, whatever. They’re each 80 calories.

Plum Corn Cake or “cakelets”

by Cat Tan

Prep Time: 15 minutes

Cook Time: 25 minutes

Keywords: bake appetizer breakfast dessert Easter American

Ingredients (24 cakelets)

  • 2 plums
  • 1/3 cup finely ground yellow cornmeal
  • 1 1/2 cups AP flour
  • 1/2 cup honey, plus more for drizzling
  • 1 tbsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp baking soda
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup liquid egg whites or 3 egg whites
  • 1, 6oz individual container 2% plain chobani yogurt
  • 1 cup of skim milk
  • cooking spray
  • 1 tbsp softened butter or earth balace
  • 1 tsp of sugar

Instructions

preheat oven to 350F

slice plums very thinly, toss with tsp of sugar, set aside

sift together dry ingredients

in a separate bowl mix together wet ingredients

combine wet and dry ingredients

using the softened butter, grease JUST THE FLAT BOTTOMS of 2 muffin tins

spray the rest of the muffin tins with cooking spray

LIGHTLY DRIZZLE honey *I use a squeeze bottle into the bottoms of each muffin

place sliced plums into the bottom of each muffin space

scoop equal amounts of batter into each muffin space

bake approximately 24 minutes

loosen around the edges of each muffin

let cool 2 minutes and turn out.

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Do you swear?

What is your driving pet peeve? Is it like me and just envelops an entire state?

11 comments on “Mr Miyagi Pegging Me With Plums.

  1. Adorable little cakelets, though not nearly as cute as bed head up there.

    Re: The Eff Word – I actually started saying FORK in order to stave off my use of the classic f-bomb. I know it still implies the same message, but I also am not a HUGE fan of that word, and would rather just use the innocuous utensil instead. All the fffffffffffff sound pleasure, and I’m offending less of the delicate ears around me. Then again, I get a lot of weird stares when I yell out FORK AND KNIFE! (when I’m especially annoyed.)

  2. Hahahaha…I actually say “Fudge” when I want to say the F word…I know it sounds cheesy, but I started it years and years ago and it’s kinda stuck. So now when I’m pissed off and say it, people just laugh and think I sound cute. HAHA. But I know what you are saying…I need to stay away from you brooklyn girls =) LOL xoxoxoxo

  3. It’s so funny. I saw the tweets from you and Scott and thought, “oh, of course, they’re New Yorkers.” I have tried and tried to rid the F word from my vocabulary. Sometimes there really is no other word that can express what I need to express. My husband hates it and I’ve stopped swearing in front of him but it’s slowly creeping back into my vocab, especially when driving in Jersey.

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