Kir Jensen - The Sugar Cube: 50 Deliciously Twisted Treats from the Sweetest Little Food Cart on the Planet

This book is dedicated to one very inspiring womanmy mom. Thank you for teaching me to be an expert fruit fondler, lover of good food, feeder of the masses, and diner by candlelight.

Kir Jensen is chef/owner of The Sugar Cube. She lives in Portland, Oregon. This is her first book.

Danielle Centoni is a food writer whose work has appeared in the Oregonian, the New York Times, Fine Cooking, Sunset, and Saveur and is coauthor of Mothers Best: Comfort Food That Takes You Home Again. She lives in Portland, Oregon.

Lisa Warninger is a photographer specializing in lifestyle, fashion, and food. She lives in the Northwest.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the moment that sparked my lust for all things sweet. Im about six years old, standing patiently next to my mom in the kitchen, our favorite room in the house. I loved how its soft lighting just seemed to glow and how the warm yellow hue of the walls and the sky-bluetiled backsplash reminded me of the sunniest summer days. For my mom, a native Swiss, the colors were a reminder of her homeland.

Im rapt, watching as my moms strong hands wrangle the old workhorse hand mixer, the beaters clattering against the faded yellow milk-glass mixing bowl as she beats the yellow cake mix into a thick, fluffy cloud. As it whines like a mini motorboat, nearly drowning out the soft rock playing in the background, cake-mix dust wafts toward my crinkling nose. I can almost taste the sweet, creamy batter, but between my moms watchful eye and the ferocious blades of the mixer, I dont dare dip in a finger.

The motor stops.

Here, my mom softly whispers.

Finally! Time almost seems to stand still as my mom lovingly hands me a batter-coated beater. As the not-so-natural yellow goo drips all over my tiny fingers and feet, I quickly set to work, trying to lap up every drop.

You know, youll get vurms if you eat too much of the raw batter, my mom says almost halfheartedly in her thick Swiss accent. She was big on old wives tales and Old World superstitions, but her fear was no match for the pleasure she got from looking at the joy on my face. I knew Id soon be licking the bowl, too.

And thats when something deep within me just clicked. Thats when I realized that food and love were deliciously, beautifully intertwined. When she handed me that beater, my mother taught me not only to love food but to love sharing it with others, too.

Twenty-seven years later, Ive turned that lesson into my career.

Looking back, it seems almost inevitable that I would end up attending the Baking and Pastry Program at the Cooking and Hospitality Institute of Chicago, near my hometown. Soon thereafter I began working at Trio, a four-star restaurant in Chicago, where I trained under renowned pastry chef Della Gossett, whose creativity and skill helped shape the way I bake.

When I got the itch to head west, I moved to Portland and spent several years working at acclaimed bakeries and restaurants like Florio, Genoa, Noble Rot, and Clarklewis. Finally, in 2008, I decided it was time to pave my own way. With limited funds but enthusiasm to spare, I opened The Sugar Cube food cartmy own spacewhere I could grow as a baker, define my own style, and connect with my customers in a personal way thats usually not possible in a commercial kitchen. Not only would I get to bake their treats, but I also would be able to hand them out personally and see the pleasure on their faces as they took a bite. Finally, Id be able to really spread my own brand of sugar love.

My cart was one of the first in the city to offer something beyond the usual taco-truck fare and certainly the first to specialize in desserts, so word quickly spread. Portlanders were hungry for my deliciously twisted takes on cupcakes and cookies, puddings and drinks, all made with high-quality, locally sourced ingredients. Then journalists started calling, photographers started snapping my picture, and soon my little cart was getting ink in publications like the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Sunset magazine, and Travel + Leisure.

It always seemed to surprise people that I baked everything out of the cart. It wasnt just a tiny retail space; it was also my workspace. This got me thinking: If I can make ganache-filled brownies, salted caramel-topped cupcakes, and brown-butter tarts out of an eight-by-fourteen-foot food cart, then anyone can, no matter how tiny the kitchen. And thats how this book was born. I dont have space for big, fancy equipment, acres of tools, or miles of shelves with luxurious staples. But I dont need them, and neither do you.

So this book is for all you dessert hounds out there who think you cant bake because you dont have the right kitchen, the right equipment, or the right recipes. Thats B.S. If you can follow a recipe and have a little patience, you can become a whisk-wielding badassand you dont need a six-burner Wolf range to do it. Ill tell you how to outfit your tiny kitchen or baking area and work efficiently within it, how to pick the best ingredients, and how to turn those ingredients into kick-ass desserts.

Dont forget that baking is something that is done with love and care, and making family recipes is one of the best ways to remember and honor the ones you love and miss. If youre lucky enough to have a big box of old recipes from your mom or grandma, cherish themand use them. Let this book encourage you to fire up your oven and remember your roots.

So turn the page and don your apron. Theres nothing terribly difficult or labor intensive in here, because thats not what Im about. But you will find plenty of chances to get your hands dirty with a little butter and sugarand plenty of delicious reasons to share the sugar love.

I really do love my tiny pink food cart. I love that it gives me my own space, outside of my house, where I can craft tasty little treats for the very appreciative food lovers in my town. I love that I can afford to own it without signing my life over to a bank or charging my customers outrageous prices. And I love that I dont have to share it with anyone. Its all mine. Theres no one else there bumping into me or running off with my pans. Its my domain, like an artists studio, where I have space to create.

My cart has all of these great things going for it because its small. But small also means challenging. First of all, weathering the seasons can be a serious problem. Unlike an actual building with, say, central heat, air-conditioning, and insulation, my cart is out there in the elements. In winter, its so cold I cant get my butter to soften. In summer, its so hot that turning on the oven feels like an act of insanity. An even more constant issue is limited workspace. The cart is just eight feet wide and fourteen feet long. Tiny, right? Well, once you put the oven, racks, sink, and counter in there, it feels a whole lot smaller.

To cope, I follow several major rules that, really, everyone should follow no matter what size his or her kitchen.

FIRST:Dont be a slob.

This is the rule they beat into you at cooking school: Work clean, and your product turns out clean. No matter how slovenly you may be in the rest of your life, you cant be a slob in the kitchen. Not only is it unsanitary, but youre also more likely to make mistakes. This is especially important when your kitchen is minuscule. I absolutely must clean up as I go, or I literally wont have room to cook.