Life is 2Sweet

For over eight years now, since the birth of her twin girls, Angela Shafer has been helping people create memorable occasions. Invitations, party favors, candy buffets and decadent desserts are the heart of her business. She has mastered the cake pop, made her fair share of diaper cakes and diaper tricycles, crafted a fully edible version of nearly every Disney icon adored by children, and planned as well as executed themes and decor for celebrations ranging from Bar Mitzvahs and weddings to birthdays and baby showers.  Recently, Angela opened 2Sweet's doors in Woodland Park, NJ, transitioning from a home based business to a retail location and party planning haven. 

As a cake pop lover and fond of all things handmade, I am grateful to have a store like this in my hometown.  I am also overjoyed for Angela and her loved ones, for a selfish reason. She is my cousin and having an entrepreneur in the family means two things: 1) She is an inspiration to anyone who hopes to turn a passion into a sustainable living.  2) Our family gatherings always have the best treats. Duh.

Paramount to her business success is Angela's ability to heed the wishes of her clients and incorporate their style into a deeply personal, innovative solution. She made my graduation from high school memorable with Georgetown themed invitations. Blue and orange cake pops made a perfect gift for a dear friend, a die-hard Mets fan. This fortieth birthday screamed the eighties, every single detail. 2 Sweet facilitates moments that are not easily forgotten.  

Angela began with some basic materials in her home, baking savvy inherited from her talented mother, moral family support, and a vision. Since 2Sweet's inception, Angela has built a following of customers and admirers through resilience, creativity, and a need for very little sleep. The finest bi-product of her entrepreneurialism - the example she has made for her young daughters. 

Have a look below at some noteworthy 2Sweet moments and please consider casting your vote for 2Sweet in the Best of New Jersey 2014 .  

Cake pops, quite possibly, to kill for. 

Need a centerpiece for your next party? 2Sweet is a one stop shop for all your party planning needs. 

Pictured clockwise from top left: Chocolate peanut butter fudge, Red Velvet, S'more, French Toast (with BACON)

Mini cupcakes, Candy, and Kisses, oh my!

Even the boxes are sweet.

Chocolate Covered Oreos

XOXO

It's always sunny in 2Sweet. (Even if it is not sunny outside, light reflects off the white furniture, the smell of cupcakes abounds, and you immediately feel happier anyway.)

More than just cupcakes.

Lemon Creme, Raspberry Chocolate Fudge, and Mint Chocolate Chip 

And did I mention cannoli cones!?

Are you salivating yet? Or dreaming of sprinkle topped cake pops. For additional information be sure to visit 2Sweet's website or stop in for a visit. 

Summer Hours

Monday: Closed
Tuesday: 11-7
Wednesday: 11-7
Thursday: 11-7
Friday: 11-9
Saturday: 10-5:30
Sunday: Closed

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“How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone.”

— Coco Chanel

Pretzel making

Soft pretzels remind me of sporting events and carnivals- all feel good, summer night memories. I've had some with cinnamon and sugar, others with coarse salt, and even one wrapped around a hot dog. As a little experiment I bought a pretzel making kit, and put on my pretzel making hat. 

I mixed, kneaded, let rise, and rolled according to the instructions. The kit came with an illustrated tutorial detailing how to roll the pretzels in to their iconic shapes. While they were not perfect, they did resemble pretzels; I made them smaller than instructed because I was going to add some sin as toppings: cheddar, bacon, and scallions to be exact. 

Once rolled, the pretzels are dipped in a water and baking soda solution, then placed on a prepared pan in the preheated oven.

While the pretzels cooked for the first eight minutes, I grated the cheddar. 

At the eight minute mark, I removed the pretzels from the oven, rubbed each with olive oil, and topped with a generous helping of shredded cheddar and bacon bits. 

I rotated the pretzel tray before placing back in the oven and cooked for 5 minutes longer. Per the instructions, cook until the desired brown/done-ness, between 5 and 8 minutes. 

The warm pretzels were topped with chopped scallions and served with a spicy clam chowder that James had whipped up. 

Bread and cheese are among my favorites and while not the most nourishing, they make a strong case for the most comforting. Thus, it's not even remotely appealing to me to live a bacon cheddar scallion soft pretzel free life. The experiment was a semi-homemade success. 

Scenes from Sunday (5)

I would be lying if I said my family needed an excuse to throw a dinner party. Everyday is a dinner party.

Living with a chef, life is food-focused 90% of the time. The other 10% is allocated for sleep, but if dreams about mealtime count, then closer to 95% of our daily lives are spent around the table or planning what to put on said table. Before James came along designating me as household sous chef, my Italian heritage had already placed food at the core of my identity. My tapestry was woven in edible thread from the beginning. Pastas, pastries, produce and stew. Wake up thinking of breakfast, finish breakfast to begin planning lunch/dinner, and at dinner's end dream of dessert. The next morning, the cycle continues and it begins again. 

When I began writing this journal a few years back, I had selected the title "Pensive Foodie" for myself because a) I am an avid overthinker, hence pensive, and b) I relish in eating, cooking, reading of food, the foodie. The term "foodie" carries a pretentious connotation for some, insinuating refined culinary endeavors and tastes. Me, I enjoy food in its simplest forms. Crisp cherries, a warm chcocolate chip cookie straight out of the oven, or a crusty grilled cheese dipped in tomato soup. I'm no authority on obscure ingredients and don't use them often. I was raised on nourishing basics and never wanted for anything; happy and fed. Whatever was left in the refrigerator became a hearty soup, frittata or pasta. 

 I'll likely never be the caliber cook my grandma is. Her generation has something special that isn't readily replicated; I have much to learn from her. Making mistakes, and accidentally cutting or burning myself is commonplace. I still follow recipes most of the time and am more than contented to watch James in the kitchen, chopping vegtables by his side rather than do it by myself. I embrace my shortcomings but the ease and comfort with which he prepares food inspires me to become better. He assures me it takes practice and lots of mistakes to hone any craft. Regardless of my appreciation for the simple, I greatly admire the awe-inspiring skills of innovators in the industry, would skip, hop and jump at the opportunity to eat in lavish locales, and gawk with benign envy at folks who've made food a sustainable living whether styling, writing, or photographing. Nonetheless, I savor my personal dialogue with food - cookbooks, takeout, burnt cookies and all. It's in my power to orchestrate a dance among the ingredients, rendering the sum far greater than its parts and that's special to me. 

That brings us to Sunday. We don't make a habit of following soccer, but the World Cup final gave us the opportunity to make a few themed dishes. For the Argentines, we planned empanadas and a German potato salad for their opponents. Mom tracked down an authentic Argentinian market for the pastry circles. James instructed me in preparing the filling- ground beef, onions, garlic, green and jalapeno peppers, chili powder and a collection of other spices. It simmered long and on low. I turned out the pastry circles on to a floured surface and topped each with a generous helping of beef. I spread water around the perimeters and each empanada was sealed with a fork. In to the deep fryer they went. Meanwhile, I prepped a corn and black bean salsa, tapenade and guacamole for dipping. The lines blurred between the culinary traditions of multiple countries that afternoon but it was pleasing overall.  

We bit into piping hot empanadas, burned our tongues, and soothed them with fruit filled sangria. Animated conversation filled the kitchen and living room. After we had more than enough savory, coffee and cupcakes were dessert. The match began and we passively watched; it was never about the game anyway.

On Indian Lake

To celebrate America's birthday, James and I explored a lake of hers in Upstate New York for the weekend. We arrived Saturday in time for a quick lunch of hotdogs and hamburgers before our kayak trip across Indian Lake. Having not worked my upper body adequately in some time, I immediately felt the burn spread across my back from shoulder to shoulder. Cold water splashed on my legs as my rowing partner cut through the water in front of me. The air was crisp and delightful to breathe in. After a mile of paddling... left, right, left, right, we docked our canoes and headed to the top of the mountain on foot. 

The men said this was one of the easier hikes in all of Indian Lake, and the one with the best views. To me it hadn't felt very easy, but I made it nonetheless. The last 100 yards were nearly vertical, but with some reassuring words from myself to myself as I struggled for breath, I made it to the top and snapped this photo.  

The view after our hike. 

Once our energy was restored, we set out for the bottom, accompanied by a young family- a baby girl in her Dad's backpack carrier and a voracious bulldog. Three children were on their way to the top with springs in their steps and smiles on their faces. A short distance away we rowed to a series of cliffs, and I mustered the courage to jump off not once, but twice. The minute my feet left the cliff, I felt a moment of panic that I might die when I hit the bottom. Moments later I emerged from the cold water, unharmed and relieved.

 For dinner, James made homemade chili and grilled corn over an open fire using his Dutch oven. The women had wine, and the men had beers as we tucked in to hearty, cheddar chopped chili served with tostada chips. We walked to the fireworks in town and grabbed a spot on the hill just in time for dark to fall.  Before the firework display, a few youngsters released a lantern in to the air. I found it lovlier than the fireworks that followed but it was a fitting spectacle for Uncle Sam. 

Sunday we woke exhuasted, and sore, but embarked on another momentous day. James and my uncle went on a hike that ended in fishing, while my aunt and I went to a charming little beach. After swimming, reading, and a short snooze, we visited some antique stores and were inspired by the skill of local artisans and their creations. Grilled pizzas were dinner with a slew of toppings - assorted peppers, onions, yellow squash, zucchini, and pancetta. I snuck in an additional swim as the sun was setting on the dock. We will be returning, and often, as I have been won over by the allure of the lake. 

We adjusted our route home to pass through Lake Placid and watched some young hockey players skating on the ice where the Americans defeated Russia in the 1980's Olympics despite the incredible odds. After a ski lift and an elevator ride, we stood atop the launch pad for the Olympic Ski jump. Overwhelmed with admiration for America's athletes and the beauty of her lakes, we drove home grateful.