Your best assets.

A very wise seamstress and fellow blogger recently gave me some simple, yet powerful, advice. She said that I need to embrace what looks best on me, regardless of my attraction to other styles. For example, I am drawn to the New Look shape of the 1950's. I love a tiny waist and full hips enveloped in an even fuller skirt. Yet my own shape is much more decidedly the inverted triangle shape. I have a poorly defined waist, and narrow hips. It seems obvious, I know, that 1950's patterns are therefore a poor choice for my sewing aspirations. However, up until this point I have ignored that reality and tried to create the New Look silhouettes in my wardrobe.

But this advice - dress for what looks best on YOU - is wise and true. And with this advice I am choosing to release my stubborn attraction to the New Look and instead embrace the styles that look best on me. It turns out these style are largely looks from the 1930's. And, as it also turns out, these styles are beautiful.

I did a bit of research into the fashion of the 1930's in hopes of identifying exactly what about these shapes and silhouettes suits my own shape and silhouette. The more I can pinpoint what works for me, the better able I will be to adapt my tastes to my figure reality, and ultimately sew things I like to wear.

And here is what I found. The most characteristic fashion trend from the 1930s to the end of World War II is attention at the shoulder, including butterfly sleeves and banjo sleeves. Patterns were designed with broad, rounded shoulders cut in one piece with the yoke.Feminine curves were highlighted in the 1930s through the use of the bias-cut in dresses.

It was in the 1930's that the "Sweater Girl" image emerged, modeled after Lana Turner. The "sweater" look become an informal look for young women that relied on large breasts pushed up and out by brassieres. This look continued to be influential into the 1950s.

The strong shoulders of the 1930s is expressed through wide lapels, shawls, capes, boat necklines, and accents of feathers or frothy scarves. Short bolero jackets, capelets, and dresses cut with fitted midriffs or seams below the bust increased the focus on breadth at the shoulder. Short hair remained fashionable in the early 1930s, but gradually hair was worn longer in soft or hard curls.

Darts were replaced by soft gathers. Necklines received dramatic attention, often with wide scallop-edged or ruffled collars. Fabric flowers might be placed at the neckline, on one shoulder, or at the center waist or center neckline. Bows were another popular accent.

I have broad shoulders, a prominent bust, and short curly hair! I feel like a model image of 1930's fashion, and it is so empowering. Let the sewing commence.

Sunday Breakfast.

Breakfast is arguably the best meal of the day, especially when whipped up on Sunday mornings in the comfort of your own kitchen with your PJs on and your husband rubbing his eyes sleepily and sitting with you while you cook. Last Sunday we made fried eggs on toast with french-style pistou.

A pistou is a simplified pesto. It skips the pine nuts and the cheese and relies entirely on fresh basil, olive oil, and a tiny bit of garlic. We used the remains of our potted herb garden basil. I cannot tell a lie, we were bad herb gardeners this year. The summer was so hot, and well, we were lazy waterers, and the result has been a sub-standard herb garden. Our parsley is a bit yellow, the rosemary and sage haven't grown an inch, and our thyme has shriveled to nothing. The basil is the only plant growing, and we let it get so big and unwieldy that it has become hard to use at all. It is almost like a mini tree at least two feet high, with hefty trunk-like stems with little to no foliage. It featured an abundant, top-heavy flowering of new leaves up top, but I think the new leaves block the light for the lower branches, perpetuating the unfortunately bare stems. All in all the plant had lost its functionality as a ingredient-producing garden and had grown into a bit of an eyesore and a constant reminder of our poor gardening skills.

So last weekend I made a dramatic move. I cut nearly the whole plant back. I just took my scissors and - whack-whack-whack - trimmed off all of the giant branches of leaves away, leaving a tiny plant behind. Sam was upset. After all, he is a sensitive soul, and the idea of killing away a portion of a living thing that we are responsible for can be upsetting to sensitive types. But the good thing is that his sensitivity led us to save my trimmings, and as a result we had a lot of basil to make pistou. And pistou is simple and delicious.

The word pistou means pounded in French. Traditionally, the ingredients are crushed and mixed together in a mortar with a pestle. We used a mini food processor. The dish hails from the Provencal region of France. It can be used in soups, or as a spread on bread or served over pasta. But for our breakfast, we served it with eggs over toast.

Poached Eggs and Parmesan Cheese Over Toast with Pistou

1/3 cup (packed) fresh basil leaves
1/2 small garlic clove
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
4 large eggs
2 1/2-inch-thick slices brioche or egg bread, toasted
Parmesan cheese shavings

Puree basil, garlic, and oil in mini processor until very smooth. Season pistou to taste with salt and pepper.

Add enough water to medium skillet to measure 1 1/4 inches. Sprinkle salt generously into water. Bring water to simmer over medium heat. Crack eggs 1 at a time and gently slip into water. Cook until egg whites are just set and egg yolks are still runny, about 3 minutes.

Place hot toasts on plates. Top each with Parmesan. Using slotted spoon, transfer 2 eggs, well drained, to each piece of brioche. Sprinkle eggs with salt and pepper. Drizzle with some of pistou and serve.

A missing pantry staple.

We forgot to buy olive oil, so tonight we were forced to cook our dinner in butter instead. Sauteed grape tomatoes with oregano and lamb meatballs with cous cous are browning up in on the stove right now. Our house smells amazing. Also, I feel like Julia Child. "Just a little bit of butter, enough to taste..." My poor husband is worried about the saturated fat content of our meal, but me, I am just enjoying the benefits of missing a pantry staple. Tomorrow, we go to the store.

p.s. We did not actually use an entire stick of butter as the photo suggests. That is from another recipe from a few months ago.

The D.U.K. #2

Do you see that tall dude in a chefs coat in the front of this picture? And do you see how all of us are smiling huge, goofy grins? Well, that's because that tall dude is a Real. Live. Professional Chef. And he had just cooked us dinner. Also, probably, because we drank 11 bottles of wine. But mostly because of the chef.

The chef is Chef Jason Dady, and indeed, he came over to John and Lauren's house on Thursday to make us a fabulous dinner. It was all part of D.U.K., or Dady's Underground Kitchen for those of you not in the know. Basically, it is a super cool idea on Dady's part to set aside some dates for private cooking for a group of ten. It's underground, because he sends out the dates at random on his Twitter feed, and the first to respond get the date. We provide the kitchen. We bring the wine. He cooks a five course meal, and we eat it. Yum.

The D.U.K. became a reality thanks to my dinner club compadre and fellow food nerd Lauren. Lauren is good with social media, and she astutely harnessed the power of the interweb to secure a private dinner, cooked by San Antonio chef Jason Dady, via Twitter a few weeks ago. Now, to understand the magnitude of this experience, you must understand that Lauren, her husband John, me, and my husband Sam have an above average infatuation with food. This includes of course home cooking, but extends much farther into the culinary adventures of fine dining out, as well as into the current events of our city's culinary activity. We are the kind of friends that get together and gossip about new restaurant openings. We eagerly share in detailed descriptions of meals we've recently eaten. We take cooking classes at the local school. We plan our weekends around eating out at new restaurants. And of course we know who San Antonio's big chefs are, and we follow their work (some of us even stalk them at Costco on occasion...).

And that is how we knew about Chef Jason Dady. John, Lauren, Sam and I have eaten at several of his restaurants together. He has a fancy and romantic restaurant, The Lodge, in a 1929 mansion in the Castle Hills neighborhood. He operates my favorite Italian restaurant in town (and conveniently near my house), Tre Trattoria. He has a great wine and tapas place up north, Bin 555. And he has a smokin' BBQ joint not to far away, Two Bros BBQ. And, rumor has it straight from his mouth (in which case I guess it is not really a rumor) that he is opening another restaurant soon in the Fairmount Hotel in downtown San Antonio. So when Dady offered to cook for us and an intimate group of friends, we freakin' jumped at the chance. That's just what food nerds do.

And it was delicious. And really relaxed. Chef Dady didn't just cook for us, he spent the whole night interacting with us too. He was such a nice guy. He let us watch his every move without making us feel like we were creepy stalkers. He indulged all of our questions and encouraged us to interact while he cooked. He even conversed eagerly about our favorite reality television show "Top Chef" and different Food Network stars. Usually when I try to talk to chef-like people about food TV, they get all hoity toity and judgmental and tell me they are too busy being "real" cooks to indulge in television. But not Chef Dady. He is cool enough to understand that us food nerds take our culinary entertainment where we can get it, and he was happy to bond over the TV shows. Totally cool.

Dinner was amazing. The food was delicious and creative. Our 3rd course was a rabbit, head to tail, and it involved the loin and a combo of the offal meats encased in cured meat, poached, then pan seared. As he was plating he said to me "I can guarantee you there is not a better dish being served in all of San Antonio tonight." It was really cool to see his pride and confidence in his work, and after tasting it, I seriously believe him. It was amazing. And the coolest part is that his inspiration for the dish was eggplant, and he built the rest of the amazing plate around its flavors. His inspiration was not the rabbit, not the sauce, but the vegetable. Neat.

The dessert was a special treat for me, because I am the Dady Crostada's #1 fan in San Antonio. Seriously, I think about it more than any other dessert. And for those of you that know me, you know I love dessert. I think about dessert about as often as men are accused of thinking about sex. That is to say, I think about dessert about ever six seconds or so, and I most certainly think about it morning, noon, and night. Anyway, once long long ago at Tre Trattoria I had a pear crostada served with cinnamon marscapone, and it was damn near the best thing I have ever tasted. The next time I went to Tre, I saved room for dessert, but alas the crostada was no longer on the menu. So I wrote a comment card, and I have written a comment card every visit since. I have even channeled my longing for crostada through Sam and his Twitter account. And so imagine my delight when I arrived to our D.U.K. dinner and saw "Samwar's Crostada" on the menu. My heart did a little skip. I had been waiting for that dessert, longing for that dessert, and at last I had the dessert. I enjoyed every D.U.K. course, but especially dessert.

Below is the menu, and photos, to commemorate the meal.

D.U.K. #2
"ohmypuddin"
September 3rd, 2009

Chef Jason Dady presents:

Hors de oeuvres:
"Smoked" Popcorn
Nutella, Chorizo and Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Filet Mignon Meatballs with Horseradish Crema
"What's in Your Fridge" Challenge - aka Peach, Leak, and Cheese Bruschetta

1st Course:
Fresh Seasonal Figs with Local Chevre Goat Cheese, Honey, Marcona Almonds, Balsamic and Proscuitto de Parma

2nd Course:
Forbidden Rice Crusted Scallop with House-cured Guanciale, Heirloom Tomato, Sweet Corn, Fresh Texas Peas, White Polenta, and Lemon Beurre Blanc

3rd Course:
Rabbit "Head-to-Fluffy-Tail" with Celery Root Puree, Summer Bulb Onion, Japanese Eggplant and Vanduvan

4th Course:
Samwar's Crostada with Organic Nectarines and Made to Order Chantilly

When the meal was over, Chef Dady teased us about our impressive wine consumption (9 bottles of wine and one bottle of Port were already dry) and helped us celebrate our achievement by opening a second bottle of port. It was not necessary, but was very well received. As Dady said himself, "DUK was a smashing success (and I mean smashed)!" So we cheersed, and we drank, and we even whoo-ed a little bit (we were, after all, smashed at that point). All in all it was a delicious, libatious, one-of-a-kind dinner that goes down in my book as one of my best ever.

p.s. Do you see that look of adoration in Lauren's eyes? Looks like ohmypuddin has found a new hero.

Return to the scene of the crime.

Happily married couples have been known to return to the scene of their crime on their anniversary, usually for hot coffee and giant cinnamon buns. This morning Sam and I sat in the dining room at the Guenther House and ate breakfast where exactly two years and a few hours ago we cut our wedding cake, toasted each other, and attended our first party as husband and wife.

We marveled that it has been two year. I mean, two years sounds like a long time. It is 731 days (there was a leap year). But in reality, time has flown by, and I think that is a good sign. It must mean that we like each other, that we live busy and fulfilling lives, and that most of all our marriage has enhanced our lives. Otherwise the time wouldn't fly by, would it?

I feel a bit conceited posting so many photos, but my nostalgic, romantic side can't help it. I wanted to thumb through the photos today, but sadly I have yet to finish the wedding album (I know!) so instead I had to pop in the CD. And you know, since the images were in easy access to the blog, well, I just couldn't help myself. The talented Jill Torrance did our photos, and beautifully I might add.

This fall I vow to put our wedding photos in an album, so next year I will have a tangible book to pull out and gush over. Last year I had the pictures all printed (finally!) in honor of our one-year anniversary. So this year I should put them into the binder in honor of our two year anniversary. It will certainly make it easier to pull them out and reminisce on our three year anniversary and beyond.

I don't think it will ever get old to say this, so to my dear Sam, Happy Anniversary. Here's to many more!

Summer Doldrums.

I feel like I am floating amiss in the grips of the late summer Doldrums. If you don't know about the Doldrums, well, the Doldrums are the area around the equator (also known as the equatorial calms) that have a light and varied wind due to the heat at the equator. During the peaks of summer, the Doldrums wind dies down to almost nothing. Back in the cool old days of pirates and sailing, the Doldrums became notorious with sailors because of their periods of deadly calm. The area could trap ships for days or weeks on end. Boats would have to sit and just wait for enough wind to power their sails. They were powerless to move until enough wind came to fill there sails and propel them forward again. Thus, in colloquial usage, "being in the doldrums" refers to being in a state of listlessness, despondency, inactivity, stagnation, or a slump.

I am definitely in the summer doldrums.

It could be the heat. It is hot here in San Antonio right now. So, so hot. We are on our 58th day of temperatures over 100 degrees. There is no sign of it letting up, and I am tired of being sweaty. So while my inbox if full of emails hailing the "The Warm-up to Autumn" (Anthropology) and "Fall Shopping Lists" (Lucky Magazine) and "Our Fall Preview Event" (Gap), I still feel like I am melting in an inferno.

It could be work. This summer my office turned over 67% of our labor force. We are a five person staff and we saw three of the five leave. We hired two new people to serve in the management position. We also hired a fresh-from-college kid into one of the vacancies. So now I am the veteran employee, and essentially the only person with any historical memory in the organnization. Transitions in the work place are always tough. They are even tougher when multiplied by three. I find coping with the day to day frustrations of an all new team to be an all-consuming, and not in a good way. I know that time and patience will turn the situation around, but for right now, work is a bummer.

It could be I've just plain lost my mojo. My sewing mojo, my crafting mojo, and dare I say it, even my cooking mojo. Last night I attempted cappuccino creme brule for dinner club. It should have been easy, but it did not set right, and we had the hardest time melting all of the sugar with the butane lighter, so the sugar was grainy. Don't get me wrong, we all ate it anyway and the taste was good, but the overall product was just so "eh" (and it's such a shame, because I baked all the desserts in our china coffee cups and had such a cute theme of after dinner coffee going on).

Sewing is not going so well either. I have botched two projects I was really expecting to succeed with. The "Everybody's Favorite Claire McCardell" dress is going to have to change its name to the "ALMOST Everybody's Favorite Claire McCardell" dress. I just could not get the bust to fit correctly. More to come on that project. I am also working on the 1950's collar confection blouse, and experiencing the same bust fit issues. And I have a beautiful Liberty print of red poppies lined up, so I have to get my mojo back.

I know the summer Doldrums are not permanent. Like any good sailor, I just have to wait and let nature take its course. Until the winds pickup however, I will just be out here floating, waiting for the breeze to fill my sails so I can get back on my way.

A little pickling factory.

This weekend Sam and I became a little pickling factory. We pickled peppers. We pickled onions. And we pickled grapes. Yes, grapes. And they are good.

I have wanted to pickle for a long time. And Sam loves pickles. He actually loves them so much that Sunday, as we were cleaning up and jarring our pickles, he decided to drink some of the leftover brining liquid. It was a mistake which he promptly followed with several Tums and a Zantac. It turns out pickles are not the best food for a guy with stomach acid issues. However they are delicious, and therefore worth a bit of heartburn.

My kick into pickling action came last week at the bi-monthly dinner club. John and Lauren made the most delicious Potted Chicke Rillettes recipe that included no less than four sticks of butter. They served the dish with an assortment of pickles, including homemade pickled peppers. The peppers were delicious, and the perfect accompaniment to the rich chicken dish. Since Sam and I have about 4 lbs of peppers in our fridge courtesy of the summer CSA, the pickling commenced. I like to go all out when I try something, and I have been storing a few pickling recipes since last summer, so in addition to the peppers we also pickled red onions and grapes.

I found the pickled grape recipe courtesy of my favorite food bloggist, Bon Appetite columnist, and book author Molly Wizenburg (aka Orangette). Only this time the recipe was on NPR (is there any cool place that this girl isn't publishing?). It was in the archives back from 2007, and it is an editorial on pickles. Only not your normal pickles, exciting pickles like onions, prunes, and grapes.

I was further motivated, because I have actually had one, single, delicious pickled grape in my life. My sister Anne made Orangette's recipe this summer, and she fed me one succulent grape over my fourth of July trip. I was hooked. They taste like a slightly tart cinnamon treat. They are crisp, bright, and completely unique. Now Sam and I have three little jars of pickled grapes in our frige, on a shelf full of pickled produce. It is wonderful.

We have a lot of pickled produce to eat in the next few weeks, but already I am planning my next foray into pickling. Next up, pickling carrots. And Maybe okra. I have a lot of summer CSA okra in my fridge. Oh yes, and prunes. Is there anything that can't be made more delicious through pickling? Pucker up, its about to get real tangy around here.

Pickled Grapes
from Molly Wizenberg (aka Orangette) via NPR

According to Molly, "These may sound curious, but they're a real crowd-pleaser: crunchy, sweet and warmly spiced. The recipe is adapted from Susan Kaplan of Boat Street Kitchen in Seattle. I like these grapes best within the first four days after they're made, but some people like them even more after a week or two. Their pickled flavor gets stronger over time, and their skins will wrinkle slightly."

1 pound red grapes, preferably seedless
1 cup white wine vinegar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon brown mustard seeds
1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns
1 (2 1/2-inch) cinnamon stick
1/4 teaspoon salt

Rinse and dry the grapes, and pull them carefully from their stems. Using a small, sharp knife, trim away the "belly button" at the stem end of the grape, exposing a bit of the flesh inside. Put the grapes into a medium bowl, and set aside.

In a medium saucepan, combine the remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat; then pour the mixture immediately over the grapes. Stir to combine. Set aside to cool at room temperature.

Pour the grapes and brine into jars with tight-fitting lids (or cover the bowl with plastic wrap), and chill at least 8 hours or overnight. Serve cold. Makes about 3 cups.

Tubing is Texas Culture.

The United States if full of culture. I get so fed up with people that compare us to Europe and say that us Americans are nothing but a bunch of blah schmucks without original cuisine, art, past times, national attitude, or, well, or CULTURE . We have culture, and I think tubing proves it. I mean, floating in a truck tire inner tube down a spring fed Texas river with hundreds of other folks, all drinking beer...? It is as absolutely as culturally relevant as sitting in a Paris cafe smoking cigarettes. Yet somehow we all think of the French and their cafes endearingly, "Oh, those French, they have all this culture." It bugs me. And don't even get me started on the relevance of BBQ to culture. If croissants count as culture, brisket in a sweet-n-spicy sauce surely does too.

Last weekend Sam, my sister Claire, and my cousin Chrissie and I all hit the river for a healthy dose of Texas culture. We tubed. It was hot, it was a bit messy, and it was authentic. Yee-haw for my Texas culture.

My cousin is a size four.

My cousin Chrissie is tall and slender and lovely. That is why it is so much fun to go vintage shopping with her. She is visiting this weekend with my sister Claire and today we went down to Jive Refried, a vintage shop on South Alamo that features the funky and quirky, with the occasional gem hidden among the hoards of second hand goods. Chrissie scored three beautiful dress. Two need a bit of tweaking to bring them into her current style, but here are the "before" photos for you to admire. We will certainly post the afters if all goes well.

My sister Claire also has a lovely figure, different than Chrissie's and a little bit larger, but very attractive in vintage clothing. Sadly, she is not very interested in vintage shopping. She loves Anthropologie, and she likes to look nice, but she does not have the patience or the creativity to sort through the vintage racks looking for Anthropologie-esque originals. She was a champ and tried on a few outfits for me, but in the end she only left with a pretty bracelet, and no clothing.

I also ended up with a piece of clothing that I hope to convert into a smokin' top this weekend. I will certainly post if all works out. I hope it does, because how great is it to wear a one-of-a-kind piece of clothing? People stop you on the street and say "Oh I just LOVE your dress, where did you find it?" and you get to say "Oh this old thing, its vintage." And then they stair longingly for a moment and you get to relish the joy of having something totally original in this homogenized world. You just don't get that feeling with off-the-rack.


I love the floral pattern on this dress. I swear it looks like it could have come off the rack at Anthropologie (hear that Claire...?), except it only cost $15, and it is authentic, not a shameless reproduction. We are going to take these bat-wing, dolman-style sleeves up a bit so that they fall more like a cap sleeve. Isn't the print on this dress pretty? She wants to wear it with cowboy boots or leather sandals and a vintage belt (maybe with a vintage belt buckle) for that Austin-hip look. It is 100% cotton and lined, so I think it is a real steal. Man, I love living out my vintage fantasies through thin people.


This dress is damn near perfect. It needs a steam to get out some of the wrinkles, but otherwise it fits just as it should. In fact, it is a big snug. Poor Chrissie can't lift her arms over her shoulders (we asked her to fix her hair, but she couldn't reach it so Claire did if for her), but we figure you don't need to move your arms much if you look this good. The back scoops down into a low scoop that shows some shoulder blade. Very sexy. It was marked a size medium in the vintage store, but it only has a 26 inch waist, which measure a size 2 or 4 in modern clothing. I would call that a small, bordering on the extra small. It is a bit tight on Chrissie, but like I said, she looks so good that we all agree pain is beauty.

We are going to lop off the skirt of this 80s number and turn it into a 1950-ish pinup top. It has a boat neck in the front, and just wait until you see the back. It has a low, square-shaped scoop that shows off her shoulder blades. Again, very sexy. Plus, there is a giant bow back there that we are going to try and mend,to give it that little embellishment that says "sexy with a innocent twist." With some dark trouser or wide legged jeans and heels she will look stunning.

Cake Balls.

In addition to bread and cheese on the patio, my fourth of July weekend in Colorado also involved a foray into the world of weird dessert baking, when my sister Anne and I undertook the blogtastic "cake ball" recipe that has been sweeping the Internet this year. Cake balls are odd little things, but strange in a tasty way. They are essentially the amalgamation of a good bite of cake, but all squished up into a bite sized package. In fact, cake balls are so ball-y that in a way it is almost as thought the cake has been pre-chewed for you. Yeah, I know that is not appetizing, but that is what I mean when I say that the cake balls are both odd and tasty. The little desserts were almost too moist, but at the same time they are full of frosting and covered in chocolate, so they can't be that weird. Also, they remind me of something a 1960's stay at home housewife would make to bide her time before her cocktail-hour martini, in anticipation of guests. It just has that casserole-and-jello-salad-era nostalgia to it. But maybe that's just me.

Most cake ball recipes you will find on the Internet call for a boxed cake mix and a can of frosting from the grocery aisle. To that I say, don't go there people. Don't even think about going there. Cake is simple, frosting is even easier, so do it from scratch. I put two good recipes below for your ease of baking.

And once the cake and frosting is out of the way, making the cake ball is, well, a piece of cake. Just bake a cake and let it cool. Whip up a batch of frosting. Then use a fork and break the sheet cake into crumbs and large chunks. Stir into frosting until combined. Using your hands or a cookie dough scoop, portion bite sized balls of cake mixture onto a baking sheet or plate and refrigerate or freeze until firm. The next step is where you can get creative. Dip the cake balls in melted chocolate or white chocolate. If you are fancy and experienced in candy-dipping, you might consider adding a bit of food-safe wax or shortening to help the chocolate coating dry smoothly like a truffle. You can top with sprinkles, nuts, candies, confectioners sugar, and even lollipop sticks.

When dipped, cool, arrange gracefully on a tray, put on your best string of pearls and your crisp hand-sewn apron, and serve. Preferably to yourself, bon-bon style. Enjoy.


One-bowl Chocolate Cake
from a Martha Stewart cupcake recipe

Ingredients:
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
3/4 cup warm water
3/4 cup buttermilk
3 tablespoons safflower oil
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line standard muffin tins with paper liners; set aside. Sift together cocoa powder, flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt into a large bowl. Add eggs, warm water, buttermilk, oil, and vanilla, and mix until smooth, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides and bottom of bowl to assure batter is well mixed.

Divide batter evenly among muffin cups, filling each 2/3 full. Bake until tops spring back when touched, about 20 minutes, rotating pan once if needed. Transfer to a wire rack; let cool completely.

Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients:
2 (8 ounce) packages cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 cups sifted confectioners' sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:
In a medium bowl, cream together the cream cheese and butter until creamy. Mix in the vanilla, then gradually stir in the confectioners' sugar. Store in the refrigerator after use.