The Barefoot Kitchen Witch

2 People. 1 Lobster - 3 Ways

I bought two lobsters at the Farmers' Market yesterday.  I bought other things, too, but they are not the topic of this post, so I'll save them for later.

They were about a pound and a half each, and while I could happily eat both all by myself (shades drawn, doors locked), I figured the kids could split one and Bill and I could split the other one.

Bill had a long day yesterday - up earlier than usual and away on a field trip with his chorus students.  That's something like 150-160 middle school kids, plus chaperones.  4 busloads of people.  They participated in a music festival (got two golds) and then went to an amusement park near by for the rest of the day.  I know, gee, tough life, a whole afternoon at an amusement park.  But it's the music festival first, and that was the big thing for my husband.  These were his students.  His teaching on display.  So a lot of stress built up over the past months - he needed an afternoon of riding flumes and eating hot dogs to recuperate from that.

Anyway, he was due home somewhere between 8:30 and 9:00 last night, and I wasn't sure if he'd be hungry at all, or how hungry.  But I figured half a lobster wouldn't be that hard to consume.

But I was also thinking...only one lobster, divided between the two of us.  Yeah, it's lobster...but it needed to go beyond mere lobsterhood. 

I could make lobster salad sandwiches...they'd be good.  But there's something simple and special about just dipping the lobster meat in melted butter.  Another option was to make lobster cakes - I make a lot of seafood cakes out of bits and pieces of leftovers, so this would be easy.

But I couldn't decide which way to go...and so I figured I'd do all three. 

(You didn't see that coming, did you?)

So here's what I did.

First, I boiled both lobsters and when they were cool, I picked out all the meat.  I gave the meat of one lobster to the kids as part of their dinner.  (Alex enjoyed his, Julia had fallen asleep and ended up going to bed early and didn't eat hers til this morning as a sort of breakfast appetizer.)

With the other lobster, I kept the big claws intact (the meat, I mean).  Those pieces went into a small bowl of melted butter to hang out until later.  I turned them now and then to coat the meat with the butter.

I cut the tail into chunks, cut a piece of celery into very small dice, and combined those with a bit of mayo.

I took the rest of the meat - from the little legs and the body, plus the tomalley, and chopped it up a bit, added a sliced garlic scallion and some crushed Ritz crackers and some melted butter, mixed it all together, and let it sit so the crackers could absorb the butter.

I put all three bowls of lobster in the fridge until much later.

Bill called me a little after 8:00.  They had arrived back at the school, and he was waiting for a few parents to arrive and pick up the last of the kids.

I took out the bowls of lobster incarnations and started thinking about plating (yes).  I put the bowl with the big claw meat in the microwave and gently warmed it up.  Didn't want it hot, but I wanted the butter (which had solidified in the fridge) to melt and I wanted the meat warmed through.

I took two slices of white bread, trimmed the crusts, and cut each resultant square into two triangles.  I melted some butter in a pan and very lightly grilled the toast triangles until they were golden.

I went out to the garden and picked two green curly lettuce leaves, two leaves of arugula, and some chives and chive blossoms.

I got out two plain white rectangular plates and I also took out a wedge of camembert from the fridge, just in case we were hungry after the lobster was gone.  Always prepared, that's me.

I didn't want to make everything and then have it sit around getting cold or soggy, so I stopped about there until Bill arrived home.  He started to tell me all about his day, but I shooed him from the kitchen and told him he could talk later.  Go downstairs, I told him, and watch the ball game.  I'll be there shortly.

Okay, time to roll.

I melted some butter (yeah, all I do is melt butter, it seems.  But - it's lobster.) in a pan and formed the lobster/Ritz cracker mixture into two equal sized balls.  I rolled them in flour, and when the butter in the pan had melted, I placed the lobster/cracker balls in the pan and pressed down a bit to transform them into cakes.

While those were browning, I made sure the lobster claws were warm (they were).

I flipped over the lobster cakes, and mixed up a little sauce for them of mayo, sesame oil, lemon juice, and chopped chives.

I put the piece of curly lettuce down on one end of the plate, set the lobster cake on it, and draped some sauce over the cake.

I put the claw in the middle of the plate and garnished it with a chive blossom.

And I put a piece of arugula on one of the bread triangles, topped that with a generous spoonful of lobster salad, and then put the other triangle atop the salad at a jaunty angle.  (Yes, jaunty.  For the photo.)

And here's how it looked.  (Forgive the quality of the photo - lighting conditions were not the best.)

Bill said if he'd known he was having this when he got home, he'd have cut the trip short by a couple of hours.  I think that's a pretty good compliment. 

It was just enough for a small, late dinner/snack.  And it was fun to put together, too.   

My Life History In Four Photographs

So once upon a time, I was born.  And then a couple years later, my sister was born.  So there were the two of us.

And from the moment we were cleaned up at the hospital until...well...it continues to this day...our father has been there with a camera, snap snap snapping away.  Of course, he can't help it; he's a photographer.

But that's not what this is about.

Like I said, I was born, and several years later I turned five, and that September I went to Kindergarten.  I'd been to Nursery School the year before, but everyone knows that Kindergarten is the Big Time.

And, as it is in zillions of homes all over the world, parents (or one of them) dress their children in their Nice New Clothes,  take out their cameras, and snap pictures of little Johnny (or, in my case, little Jaynie) on that Very Important Day.

So here's me on my first day of Kindergarten.  The camera had only recently been invented, so I'm kind of proud that I even HAVE a photo of me from way back then.

I remember this dress, actually.  Kind of a dark green, leaning more toward the blue end of the green spectrum than the yellow.

The collar was white.

And the smocking.  Lots of smocking.  It, too, had just been invented, and it was all the rage.

White socks, and I believe the shoes were brown, but I'm not entirely sure.

Anyway, there I am, with my Buddy Ebson white eyebrows and my single braid.  I still look like that, in case you were wondering, only my teeth are bigger.  And I'm taller.

So anyway, there I am, standing in the front part of our house - the business end of it - and I am fairly certain my father had been the one to tell me to cling to the newel post for dear life and to let my other hand just hang there in a relaxed way.  Yeah, I'm just holding up the stairs here, don't mind me.  Hope my eyebrows aren't causing you snow blindness.  Note the "Dad, am I done yet?" smile. 

Well, I survived that year and progressed from Kindergarten to the First Grade. 

By then I had matured considerably.  I was a Wordly Woman and had no more need of smocking.

And here I am - oh, look, I just happened to be walking through the yard this way on my way home from First Grade and my Dad just happened to be hanging out by the side of the house near the hedge with his camera, just a-waitin' for something to happen.  It's all in the timing, you know.  (The bus, by the way, dropped me off on the side of the house - to the left of where my father is when he shot this picture - and so unless I snuck all the way around the other side of the house for some reason, it is pretty unlikely that I would be showing up in the front yard like that.  Just so you know.)

As you can see, I'm much more at home in the world.  Gone is the smocking - I am now stylish in a medium blue striped affair, with lines that run both vertically and horizontally.  Still have the white socks.  And those may even be the same shoes for all I know. 

But mainly you need to look closely at the lunch box.  Okay, you probably can't tell from the picture.  But it's a soft-sided kind of lunch box, with a themos.  And.  It's close to the same shade of blue as there is on my dress.  And.  It's a ^*(@)!*#^%!(_  lunchbox.  Oops.  My fingers spasmed.  I meant to say, it's a Barbie lunch box.  I actually had one.  So, as you can see, back  then, I was cool.  I was happenin'.  I had wisps of hair blowing across my forehead.  And I had a note in my other hand.  Not sure what that was about, but it gives me a rather purposeful air, doesn't it? 

Well.  After that, the depression hit and we fell on hard times.  And also, two years later, my sister entered the First Grade and I became a Third Grader.  But times, they were a'hard, and so we couldn't afford new clothes.  We just made do, like so many other families.  Oh, and color film had just been invented, and we got a free roll after entering a contest and saying alls we wanted was some color film so we could have nice first day of school pictures that year and so people could see what color our dresses were.  And my new lunch box.  I was over Barbie by then.

Anyway, here we are, in our stunning school-wear.

Oh, and of course that's not my REAL sister.  Because my REAL sister is a black belt in karate and would mash me to a pulp if I posted a picture of her with fangs on the internet.  That's SOME OTHER little first grade girl that my parents bribed with a nickel because my REAL sister was down the street getting her nails and hair done.  They always liked her better.  They did.

You don't believe me?  Case in point - that "dress" I'm wearing.

Um...wasn't there some sort of dress code back then that said little girls shouldn't wear dresses that barely hide their Days of the Week undies?  (And actually, we were too poor to have days of the week undies.  We could only afford Tuesday.)

Yes.  That "dress."  I put it in quotes like that because, come on, really.  It's not a dress.  I believe it used to be a dress - three years prior, when I was a shorter individual.  But at this point?  I think it's something a little girl should dress her dolls in, not herself.  That little girl next to me - HER parents knew how to preserve a young lady's modesty.  THAT dress is only a couple inches above the knee.  My "dress" is barely an inch below my...well...my Tuesday! 

I can't even speak of my shoes.  I...no...no...I can't. 

Oh, and another thing about that...that garment I am tarted up in.  it's got innocent (but properly attired) school children all over it, and rows and rows of little math problems.  I don't know why a clothing manufacturer for school-aged children would purposely design something guaranteed to get the unlucky wearer EXPELLED for cheating on her math tests.  If lawyers had been invented back then, we probably could have sued the designer, but alas, there weren't, so we couldn't.

And thus ended my school career.  I was an eight-year-old expellee with no pants.  And those shoes. 

Thrown out of my home, my head lowered in shame, I set out to find a job.  All I had going for me were rudimentary math skills and a dopey expression on my face. 

Well, those, and my killer gams, and a dream... 

 

On Hoth

So yesterday I'm in the kitchen with Bill, talking briefly before one of his students arrives for a guitar lesson.

The kids are outside playing.

And I glance out there, and see, way in the back corner of the yard, that Julia is lying flat on the ground, motionless. 

And Alex is approaching her, carrying a whiffle ball bat.

He reaches down and looks at her a bit, then pulls her by the arm a little way.

Then he sort of swings the bat around a bit and puts it down.  And pulls Julia a bit further - closer to where he'd been swinging the bat.

And then he sort of pauses, and his lips move a bit.

And then Julia stands up and Alex lies down.

Julia moves away from him about fifteen feet...and then sashays, like she's riding a horse, toward Alex.

She stops a little way away from him and then just walks normally to where he is lying, motionless on the ground.  She carries the bat.

She touches his face.  And then she takes his arm and pulls him about a foot.  Then she turns away from him and swings the bat in a sideways arc, like Alex had done moments earlier.  And then she pulls him again and then stops and stands, sort of staring off into her own little vision. 

And her lips move.

And then - again - it is Julia's turn to lie down.

They go through this little scene once more, and this time, when Alex is standing there and his lips are moving, the wind blows the sound in my direction and I can hear him.

I knew, all along, what they were each saying in turn.

The same phrase, after the swinging of the whiffle ball bat and the dragging of the prone person.

The pause.  And then the line:

"And I thought they smelled bad...on the outside!"

Foodie

As I have said in the past, I'm not much of a joiner.  But - maybe that's changing.

I also am resistant to labels.  Particularly labels that end on a cute syllable...like, well, "foodie." 

For a long time, I have shrugged that label off my shoulders any time it started to try to get comfortable.  Foodie?  What the heck was that supposed to mean?  It sounds like a character my kids would watch on Noggin. 

But...

Well, fine, if the oven mitt fits, I guess I might as well wear it.

Hi, my name is Jayne, and I'm a...a...a foodie.  There.  I said it.  Phew.

And so that is my curmudgeonly way (can women be curmudgeons?) of saying I've joined, and have been added to, the Foodie Blogroll. 

Why?

Because I have discovered, after joining Tuesdays With Dorie, that it's actually pretty nice to interact with others who have interests similar to (okay, pretty much the same as) mine.

Yes, I know.  I'm a slow learner.  And reclusive.  And a bit of an introvert.  I'm a Cancer - it's this shell of mine, you know.  It's thick.

But sometimes I step out of the shell and oh, do these nutting things like join a food blog group...and so here I've gone and done it again.

And you know, I think it'll do me good.

And We Have A Winner!

There were 26 entrants to the Food 2.0 giveaway.  I really enjoyed reading everyone's comments about farmers markets and local produce and where you go to shop. 

But now, without further ado...

I put the number in the Random Integer Generator and it spat out the following:

~~~~~

Search RANDOM.ORG

True Random Number Service

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

15

Timestamp: 2008-05-29 11:41:42 UTC

© 1998-2008 Mads Haahr 
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional | Valid CSS
Web Design by TSDA

~~~~~

Number 15!

And comment number 15 was left by....Marsha Jones.  Congratulations!!

So Marsha - please email me - jayne at barefootkitchenwitch dot com - with your shipping information and I'll have the publisher send out your copy of Food 2.0 and your handy, dandy lunch bag!

Thanks to all who participated!

I've got another giveaway coming up soon - so keep stopping back!

      

Re: The Recent Spate of Squirrel Larceny in My Yard

For those of you who may have read this recent post and were both horrified and outraged at the crime committed outside my home whilst I was earnestly and virtuously typing about rice and vegetables and all...

I present to you - the victim.

If I remember correctly, she is Queen of the Night (I ordered her from a catalog several years ago).

Once stately and elegant, now, thanks to a marauding rodent, she is bruised and battered...

...and broken off of her rhizome.  She now resides in a cobalt blue vase (appropriately regal in color) filled with nourishing and restorative aitch-two-oh.

In addition, one of the buds on the stalk broke off, right at the neck, so I've got a little orphan bud in a small glass of water on the windowsill above my kitchen sink. 

Here's the Queen in her hospital vase, gazing out at the garden that was once her home.

Alas.

But - the nice thing about irises is that they do well (I mean, as well as any cut flower can do) in water.  Last year I would take stalks of them in to work and they would bloom all week at my desk - the buds would slowly open, just like they would have in the garden.  I didn't really like cutting them, but since I was at work more during daylight hours than I was at home, I figured it was the only way I'd really get to enjoy them. 

And they smelled wonderful, most of them.  People would stop at my desk just to look and inhale and admire them. 

Anyway.  That is the follow up to yesterday's crime story.

Many thanks to Jen for inadvertantly providing me with a good laugh and a title for this post.

Squirrel larceny. Hahahaha! 

Perfect.

 

Apple and Brie Quesadillas

From Food 2.0 by Charlie Ayers.

I knew I would like this one.  I love Brie, for one thing, and pretty much any form of quesadilla sounds good to me as well.  I also knew the contrasting flavors - the peppery arugula, the earthy brie, and the sweet/tart apple - would harmonize beautifully.

Best of all - I had everything on hand, although in smaller portions than the recipe calls for, including arugula growing in our garden.  I also didn't have whole wheat tortillas (as the recipe lists) - just the normal plain ol' white ones.  But hey - I had some.  So I ended up making 4 white quesadillas instead of 8 whole wheat ones, but otherwise I was all set.

So, without further delay... here is Mr. Ayers' recipe:

Apple and Brie Quesadillas

Makes 8///Prep Time:  20 minutes///Cook time:  About 24 minutes

2 Granny Smith apples

1 T fresh lemon juice

About 1/4 cup olive oil

8 cups arugula

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

8 oz (225g) just-ripe Brie cheese

8 soft whole wheat tortillas

Peel, core, and thinly slice the apples. 

Toss the apple slices with the lemon juice and 2 T water to prevent browning.

Heat 1 T of the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.  Add a few handfuls of arugula,

sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper, and move around with tongs for a few seconds until the arugula is just wilted.  Transfer to a bowl.  Add a little more oil to the pan and continue to wilt the remaining arugula in the same way.  Set aside.

Drain the apple slices and pat dry on paper towels.  Divide the Brie into eight portions

and spread one portion onto a tortilla.  On one half of the tortilla, arrange a few slices of apple and some wilted arugula. 

Fold over the other half of the tortilla and press together.  Repeat with the remaining tortillas, Brie, apples, and arugula.

 

Heat a little olive oil in the cleaned skillet.  Put in a folded tortilla and cook over medium high heat, pressing down with a spatula, until the base is brown and crisp.

Turn over and brown the other side.  Transfer the quesadilla to a cutting board. 

Cut into three or four wedges and keep warm.  Repeat with the remaining quesadillas.  Serve warm.

You probably noticed I cooked all mine at once on a griddle rather than one at a time in the skillet I'd used for the arugula.  I prefer doing that with quesadillas because they tend to lose their crispness if they sit around for too long.  They still taste good, but they lose the crunch.

Anyway.  The first person to try one of these was my husband.  I think he liked them - he mumbled (mouth full of quesadilla) something that sounded like "vat stuck in wood" - though I don't think that's exactly it.  It sounded like that, though.  Anyway, he grabbed another one and went outside to hide from the children.

I tried one - and yep, just as I thought, I liked it.  Warm brie, slight crisp/soft bite to the apple, the peppery arugula, and the crisp tortilla.  And so easy!

Next up - my son, he of the super olefactory senses.  He came into the kitchen sniffing the air and asking what that was. 

Now, the original plan, particularly according to my husband, (maybe he said "hats, puck 'n' hood!" ?  no...that doesn't make any sense...) was to keep the rest of the quesadillas for us to eat later, just the two of us, after the kids went to bed.  Yes, we are most definitely selfish and greedy like that at times. 

But I couldn't turn Alex away.  I could have told him there was Brie in it - that would have sent him running.  But...I want them to try things.  So I said there were apples in it, and I gave him a wedge.

And.

He liked it!  Yes, just like Mikey of Life cereal fame!

He walked around the kitchen, chewing, his face thoughtful, nodding his approval.

I nearly fell over. 

Anyway, next up - Julia - who had apparently heard Alex chewing from two miles down the road (just kidding - she was somewhere in the house) and wanted to know what she was missing out on.

Rather than stand on ceremony, she took a wedge of quesadilla off of the cutting board and took a bite.

She liked it, too, but that didn't surprise me.  She likes just about anything that someone else is enjoying.

So overall I'd say these were a definite success in this house.  (Much to my husband's dismay.  Less for him.  (Maybe he said "mats duck'n could"...but I don't think so.)

There is, as I type this, three hours after I made them, only one of the original four quesadillas left.

They are cold, but will be just fine when I heat them up.

And run out to the garage with them so I can eat in peace.

Just kidding.

But you go ahead and make them - you'll understand.

Thai Forbidden Rice Salad - With Info Correction!

From Food 2.0 by Charlie Ayers.  (You know, that from that giveaway I'm hosting.)

I like warm salads.  Or room temperature.  I'm not always in the mood for cold healthy stuff, you know?  I also like my salads to have texture.  And maybe something unexpected.  And I want my salads to dare me - DARE ME - not to have more.  That's what I want in a salad.  I'm not asking too much, am I?

So when I was paging through Food 2.0 early on, this was one of the recipes that caught my eye right away.  I've cooked with Thai Forbidden Rice before

{Hear that scratchy sound?  That's me pulling the needle off the record.  I received a comment from one of the co-founders and co-owners of Lotus Foods (Hi Caryl!) who pointed out some errors in this post, and, by extension, perhaps, Mr. Ayers' recipe.}  Here is her comment:

Hi and thanks for the beautiful blog using Lotus Foods Forbidden Rice®; gorgeous photos and i can't wait to try the recipe as well. Just wanted to correct some mistakes on content; Forbidden Rice is a registered trade mark of lotus foods and should not be confused with Thai black rice which is also known as purple sticky rice. (Perhaps I should write to the charlie ayers as well). Thought you may want to know that Forbidden Rice not only looks and tastes great but has very high nutritional value as well; in chinese medicinal medicine they say it is a blood tonifier, aids in the circulation of the blood and is high in chi. It invigorates the spleen and brightens the eyes. Black foods are considered kidney tonics. Thanks again and have a rice day, caryl co-founder/co-owner lotus foods

Thank you, Caryl - and I'm sorry for the misinformation I was putting forth!   Thank you for correcting me!  I appreciate it!

Oops. 

Back to my enthusing.  I've used Lotus Foods Forbidden Rice before - I love black foods.  (Well, usually.)  Maybe it's the visual drama.  I don't know.  But I digress.

Here's what a package of the rice looks like, at least in my local stores:

Lotus Foods also produces a number of other rices, some organic, including this extremely adorable and petite Kalirira rice, which I just bought recently and haven't used yet.  The grains are TINY.  I measured one.  3/8 of an inch!  I love tiny and cute.

But ANYWAY.  Back to the forbidden rice.  According to Lotus Foods' site, "Legend tells us that this ancient grain was once eaten exclusively by the Emperors."  Fortunately all that is past history, and we commoners are free to eat this beautiful grain, too.  When forbidden rice cooks, it turns from black to a dark, dark purple.  Kind of like that black/purple iris* outside in my garden that I would love to photograph while it's in bloom, but it's so darn windy that I can't get a good shot.  I'm full of digression today, aren't I? 

Perhaps I should just get on with the recipe.  It's simple and bursting with flavors.  Really, you should try it.

According to Charlie Ayers, here's what you need:

1 cup Thai black rice (also called forbidden rice)

kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

2 T tamari (soy sauce brewed purely from soybeans, not like shoyu, which is a blend of soybeans and wheat)

2 tsp toasted sesame oil

juice of 1/2 lime

1/2 tsp sambal oelek  or other hot chili paste

1 cup roasted, unsalted cashews

1/2 red bell pepper, finely chopped

1/2 yellow bell pepper, finely chopped

6 green onions (scallions), thinly sliced

Put the rice, 2 cups water, and a pinch of salt in a pan.  Bring to a boil, then cover, reduce the heat, and simmer gently until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is tender, about 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, whisk the tamari, sesame oil, lime juice, and sambal oelek or chili paste together in a salad bowl. 

Add the cashews, red and yellow bell peppers, and green onions.

When the rice is ready, add it to the mixture

and toss to coat everything well. 

Add salt, pepper, and additional sambal oelek or lime juice to taste.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

If you can't get Thai black rice, try wild rice, or wild rice mixed with long grain rice, instead, and cook according to package directions.

I served this dish Saturday, when our friend John was here to brew beer with my husband and to talk food with both of us.  Here are bits and pieces (my notes were not entirely legible and he spoke quickly while my husband laughed) what John had to say about this salad:

"...vegetal...sweet but not in a bad way...every ingredient jumps out and tells you what it is while the rice remains a toothsome counterpoint to the supporting cast." 

Yes.  That's how John talks when he has a mind to.  The thing is - his words are a perfect summation of this dish.

Go get yourself some No-Longer-Forbidden-To-Us-Common-Folk black rice and make this tonight. 

I dare you.

* P.S.  That black/purple iris I mentioned?  While I was sitting here by the window, typing this post, I looked outside, just to look at all the irises that are blooming right now, and - my black/purple iris was GONE.  I gasped (yes, I did) and looked more closely at that part of the garden, and there, on the ground, was that iris stalk, with the huge dark flower at one end and several buds growing out of the rest of the stalk.  AND, there was a squirrel there, too, CHOMPING ON MY IRIS.  I ran out the front door and grabbed the iris stalk from the ground.  The squirrel had wisely fled.  And so now that iris is in a glass of water in my kitchen.  The original flower is damaged - petals creased and dirty from the fall.  But there will be at least two more blooms, and you can bet every grain of forbidden rice out there that I will take some awesome pictures of them.  So there, rotten squirrel!)

Lamb Burgers with Tzatziki Sauce

As I mentioned in my post about the giveaway I'm doing for Charlie Ayers' book (by the way - time's running out - contest entries are due by midnight, eastern standard time, TOMORROW - that's WEDNESDAY.  Just sayin.) that I was going to try out and post several recipes from the book.  I've already written up the Google Hot Sauce, which is fabulous.  So what next?

I picked the lamb burgers because I was pretty sure the whole family would like them (they did - actually, the word "love" came up a bunch of times) and because I haven't ever made LAMB burgers.  I've  made beef...bison...salmon...and veggie.  But not lamb.  And I love lamb.  So - that was that.  I made them for dinner last Friday night, along with the Broccoli Rabe and Cauliflower Gratin that I wrote about here.

Part of what makes these burgers interesting is the addition of ground cloves to the mix.  Not a flavor you're expecting, necessarily, but it works, along with the rest of the fixin's.  The other "fixin's" are the tzatziki sauce and the marinated (they're mildly pickled, actually) onions.  It's the whole flavor-fest of lamb and spice and cool and creamy and tangy/sweet that made these a hit.  (Well, replace the tzatziki and the red onions with a tomatoey condiment once described as a vegetable and you've got Alex's preferred version.)

So here we go.

Lamb Burgers, From Food 2.0 by Charlie Ayers, pg. 199.

FOR THE BURGERS:

1 lb good-quality ground lamb

1 tsp minced garlic

1/2 tsp ground cloves

1 tsp ground cumin

kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 T olive oil

4 artisan-style hard rolls

4 small handfuls of baby spinach leaves

FOR THE MARINATED ONIONS:

1/2 red onion, thinly sliced

1 T red wine vinegar

1 tsp unrefined light brown sugar

FOR THE SAUCE:

2 inch piece of English cucumber, coarsley grated (I used American and cut more than two inches)

1/4 cup Greek-style plain yogurt

1/4 tsp minced garlic

2 T chopped fresh mint leaves

And here's what you do...

Put the lamb in a bowl and add the garlic, cloves, cumin, and plenty of freshly ground black pepper.  Mix with your hands until well combined, then shape into four burgers.  (I made five slightly smaller ones because I didn't think my kids would eat the larger size.)

Chill until ready to cook.

Mix the red onion with the vinegar and sugar. 

Let marinate while you prepare the sauce.  Squeeze the cucumber to remove excess moisture, then mix with the yogurt, garlic, mint, and a little salt and pepper. 

Chill.

When ready to eat, heat a ridged cast-iron grill pan.  Sprinkle the burgers with a little kosher salt and brush with olive oil.  Cook the burgers until browned and cooked through, 3-4 minutes on each side.

Meanwhile, split the rolls and toast them.  When the burgers are cooked, assemble your creation with baby spinach leaves, tzatziki sauce, and the drained marinated onions.

Done.  If you like lamb, I strongly suggest you give these a try.  They're pretty darn good.

TWD: Pecan Honey Sticky Buns

Oh YUM.  When I saw that Madame Chow, of Madame Chow's Kitchen, had chosen this recipe, I was delighted.  Some of my very favorite things are involved here:  pecans, honey, cinnamon, brown sugar, and butter.  What more could I ask of a pastry?

I decided to make them for Saturday of last week, beer brewing day for my husband and his friend John, because I figured John could help eat them and then I wouldn't feel obligated to eat all of them myself.  Heh heh.

Anyway, I made the brioche dough for this recipe on Friday evening, so it could have the requisite rest in the fridge overnight.  Then, next morning, I melted and rolled and sprinkled and baked, and oh, my, were there some happy folk at our house.  All but Julia, who, being Julia, decided that she didn't like them that morning.  She changed her tune later in the day.  She's funny that way.

Anyway, the recipe lives on pages 51-53 in Dorie Greenspan's Baking From My Kitchen to Yours, and many thanks to Madame Chow for choosing it!

Here we go.

As I said, I made the brioche on Friday night, so I'll start there.

Golden Brioche Dough (pgs 48-50)

You will need:

2 packets active dry yeast (each packet of yeast contains approx. 2 1/4 teaspoons)
1/3 cup just-warm-to-the-touch water
1/3 cup just-warm-to-the-touch whole milk
3 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1/4 cup sugar
3 sticks (12 ounces) unsalted butter, at room temperature but still slightly firm

To Make The Brioche:

Put the yeast, water and milk in the bowl of a stand mixer and, using a wooden spoon, stir until the yeast is dissolved. Add the flour and salt, and fit the mixer with the dough hook, if you have one. Toss a kitchen towel over the mixer, covering the bowl as completely as you can-- this will help keep you, the counter and your kitchen floor from being showered in flour. Turn the mixer on and off a few short pulses, just to dampen the flour (yes, you can peek to see how you're doing), then remove the towel, increase the mixer speed to medium-low and mix for a minute or two, just until the flour is moistened. At this point, you'll have a fairly dry, shaggy mess.

Scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl with a rubber spatula, set the mixer to low and add the eggs, followed by the sugar. Increase the mixer speed to medium and beat for about 3 minutes, until the dough forms a ball. Reduce the speed to low and add the butter in 2-tablespoon-size chunks, beating until each piece is almost incorporated before adding the next. You'll have a dough that is very soft, almost like batter. Increase the speed to medium-high and continue to beat until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl, about 10 minutes.

Transfer the dough to a clean bowl (or wash out the mixer bowl and use it), cover with plastic wrap

 

and leave at room temperature until nearly doubled in size, 40 to 60 minutes, depending upon the warmth of your room.

Deflate the dough by lifting it up around the edges and letting it fall with a slap to the bowl. Cover the bowl with the plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator. Slap the dough down in the bowl every 30 minutes until it stops rising, about 2 hours, then leave the uncovered dough in the refrigerator to chill overnight. (After this, you can proceed with the recipe to make the brioche loaves, or make the sticky buns instead, or freeze all or part of the dough for later use.)  (You'll only need half the dough for the sticky bun recipe.)

Pecan Honey Sticky Buns

Makes 15 buns

For the Glaze:

1 cup (packed) light brown sugar
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup honey
1-1/2 cups pecans (whole or pieces)

For the Filling:

1/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons (packed) light brown sugar
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

For the Buns:

1/2 recipe dough for Golden Brioche loaves, chilled and ready to shape (make the full recipe and cut the dough in half after refrigerating it overnight)

Generously butter a 9-x-13-inch baking pan (a Pyrex pan is perfect for this).

To make the glaze: In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, bring the brown sugar, butter, and honey to a boil over medium-low heat, stirring frequently to dissolve the sugar.

Pour the glaze into the buttered pan, evening it out as best you can by tilting the pan or spreading the glaze with a heatproof spatula. Sprinkle over the pecans.

To make the filling:

Mix the sugars and cinnamon together in a bowl. If necessary, in another bowl, work the butter with a spatula until it is soft, smooth and spreadable.  (For some reason I didn't have the patience for this that morning, so I mushed it around some and left it at that.  The sticky buns did not seem to mind.)  (HAHAHAHA - joke's on me.  I just this second realized I misread that direction while I was making these, and had attempted to mix the cinnamon and sugar into the butter.  Duh.)

To shape the buns:

On a flour-dusted work surface, roll the chilled dough into a 16-inch square.

Using your fingers or a pastry brush, spread the softened butter over the dough. Sprinkle the dough with the cinnamon sugar, leaving a 1-inch strip bare on the side farthest from you. (Or, if you're dopey like me, dot the dough with your blend of cinnamon, sugar and soft butter and smear it around a bit to distribute it evenly.) 

Starting with the side nearest you, roll the dough into a cylinder, keeping the roll as tight as you can.

(At this point, you can wrap the dough airtight and freeze it for up to 2 months . . . . Or, if you want to make just part of the recipe now, you can use as much of the dough as you'd like and freeze the remainder. Reduce the glaze recipe accordingly).

With a chef's knife, using a gentle sawing motion, trim just a tiny bit from the ends of the roll if they're very ragged or not well filled,

then cut the log into 1-inch thick buns.

(Because you trim the ragged ends of the dough, and you may have lost a little length in the rolling, you will get 15 buns, not 16.) Fit the buns into the pan cut side down, leaving some space between them.  (Goofy side note here - first time I ever made any kind of buns like this, years ago, I read that same directive - "fit the buns in the pan cut side down" and became paralized because, well, they're cut on TWO sides, so WHICH cut side are they talking about?  It took forever to get those things into the pan.  I have since recovered.)

Lightly cover the pan with a piece of wax paper and set the pan in a warm place until the buns have doubled in volume, about 1 hour and 45 minutes. The buns are properly risen when they are puffy, soft, doubled and, in all likelihood, touching one another.  (And complaining to their mother about it.  "Mom, he keeps touching me!"  "Well she's on MY side of the pan!"  But I digress.  And anthropomorphisize food on occasion.)

Getting ready to bake:

When the buns have almost fully risen , center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 375 degrees  F.

Remove the sheet of wax paper and put the pan on a baking sheet lined with parchment or a silicone mat.  Bake the sticky buns for about 30 minutes, or until they are puffed and gorgeously golden; the glaze will be bubbling away merrily.  Pull the pan from the oven.

The sticky buns must be unmolded minutes after they come out of the oven. 

(That's the view through the bottom of my pyrex pan, in case you were wondering.)

If you do not have a rimmed platter large enough to hold them, use a baking sheet lined with a silicone matt or buttered foil.  Be careful - the glaze is super-hot and super-sticky.

Dorie should have added another warning in her notes.  "Be careful - these sticky buns are super-yummy and super-addictive." You know, just as a courtesy.

And on brew day morning, these were definitely a hit.  (Except, as noted above, with Julia the Ornery.)  Everyone (but Julia) had two.  Including my son.

(And it's not the camera - he's blurry from the sugar.  He looked like that for a while.)

I think it's safe to say I'll probably make these again.  As Dorie said in her intro to this recipe - "It's made of brown sugar, butter, honey and lots of pecans, and when it's baked, the pecans turn into pralines.  What's not to like?"

Indeed.

Overheard

Julia is in the other room, playing with crayons.

The crayons are talking to each other.

"But I'm a girl...I have pink!"

Broccoli Rabe and Cauliflower Gratin

I believe I have mentioned that we have had a bumper crop of broccoli rabe this year.  The thing is, broccoli rabe is kind of an early vegetable, and Bill had planted a ton of rabe in spots that will eventually (soon) be taken over by the mid-season vegetables that make up the bulk of our garden.  Did that make sense?

Well anyway, with so much broccoli rabe, I thought I needed to branch out from my normal "saute it in olive oil with some garlic and maybe some pancetta and grate some cheese on top and that's all it needs" philophy of broccoli rabe.  So I started looking through a few cookbooks to see what other people liked to do.

And then, of course, I deviated from that path a bit.  I found a recipe for a Vegetable Gratin in the book Giada's Family Dinners by Giada De Laurentis.  Cauliflower and broccoli were the vegetables she used, and so I thought, why not use rabe instead of the broccoli florets?  And so that's what I did.  I also used different cheeses than she recommended, mainly because I already had some good-sized hunks of cheeses left over from Julia's birthday party, and I figured I should use them up.

And so I give you Broccoli Rabe and Cauliflower Gratin.

(Adapted from "Vegetable Gratin" in Giada De Laurentis' book Giada's Family Dinners.  Original recipe pg. 178.)

Ingredients:

3 T unsalted butter

salt

1 head of cauliflower, cut into large florets

about a dozen broccoli rabe plants, pulled from the garden, cleaned, and chopped (roots removed)

2 T all-purpose flour

1  1/4 cups heavy cream

1  1/4 cups 2% milk

3 oz mild cheddar cheese, shredded

3 oz edam cheese, diced (because i didn't freeze it first and so it was impossible to shred)

1/2 cup plus 2 T grated peccorino romano cheese

freshly ground black pepper

2 T dried bread crumbs plus a tablespoon of dried oregano

Ready, Get Set, Go:

Preheat the oven to 500 degrees F.   Grease a 13 x 9 x 2 inch baking dish with 1 T of the butter.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat.  Add the cauliflower florets and cook for 2 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, transfer the cauliflower to the prepared dish. 

Repeat with the rabe.

Meanwhile, melt the remaining 2 T of butter in a medium, heavy saucepan over medium heat.  Add the flour and whisk for 1 minute.  Whisk in the cream and milk.  Bring to a boil over medium-high heat.  Decrease the heat to medium and simmer until the sauce thickens slightly, whisking often, about 2 minutes.  Remove the saucepan from the heat.  Add the cheddar, edam, and 1/2 cup of the romano.  Stir until the cheeses have melted.  Season the sauce with salt and pepper.  Pour the sauce over the vegetables and toss to coat.

In a small bowl, stir the bread crumbs and oregano with the remaining 2 T of romano.  Sprinkle over the gratin. 

Bake uncovered until the topping is golden brown and the sauce is bubbly, about 15-20 minutes.

Pretty easy - and pretty yummy.  Alex didn't like it, but that was to be expected, as he's not fond of white sauces of any kind.  The rest of us, however, were pretty happy with it.

The Payoff

Yesterday was a brew day here - my husband and his friend John brewed up a 20 gallon batch of pale ale, fixed the spigot connection on the side of the house, and played whiffle ball sometimes with the kids.

Brew day has become more than just a day of making beer.  It's also a Cook Really Good Food For Lunch Day.  Or a Show Off Your Most Recent Best Recipe For Something Day.  And occasionally a Cook The Spiciest Food You Can And See Who Is Man Enough To Eat It Without Crying Day.

Brew day also fluctuates between a simple, two-man brewing affair and a three to five man brewing event.  It started with just Bill and John.  And then it grew, as good things, nurtured and tended, will do.

Anyway, yesterday was a kind of relaxing, old home week kind of brew day - just Bill and John.  Not that it's stressful when the other guys are there, but when it's just John, time sort of slows...it meanders back and forth...it spreads out like a blanket on the beach and gets comfortable.

So besides the beer thing, there is, like I started to say, the food thing.  I don't know when it really started, but food consumed on brew day is not just a couple of grinders ordered from Jersey Mike's.  (Although that's not a bad thing.)  Brew day is now about killer fish tacos with Red Thai Curry Paste and freshly made guacamole.  Or Baby Buffalo Ball Sandwiches and Onion Rings.  It's a time to try out new recipes, or to show off improved favorites.

Anyway, for yesterday's Brew Day Bill slow-cooked three racks of ribs on the grill.

Here they are around 8:00 in the morning - seasoned and ready to go:

And here they are, five hours later, ready to eat:

Just take a look at that - the falling-apart yumminess.

Alex ate 7 ribs.  He loves them.

Now, ribs don't require a ton of work in terms of slicing and dicing and mixing and stirring.  Just strip away the sinew on the underside of the rack and massage in some rub and they're pretty well set.  (Bill usually makes his own rub, but this time we used Montreal Steak Seasoning, which was just fine.)

It's the smoking, the grilling, and the tending of the coals that takes some focusing.  These are cooked on a charcoal (Weber) grill with smoke.  The smoke, in this case, was from some raw cedar Bill had left over from something he made (I don't remember what).  The ribs are stacked in a single pile and rotated throughout the duration of the cooking, so that they're all equally exposed to the smoke and can all develop that gorgeous red/brown color.  And, the temperature inside the grill needs to stay right around 225 degrees F.  That's the tricky part.  Monitoring the temperature, adding just enough new coals to keep the temperature constant but not so many that the little arrow on the oven thermometer skyrockets.  These actually went up to 275 at some point because Bill was doing beer things and hadn't checked the thermometer in a while.  But though they were a tiny bit drier at the ends, the ribs were still fabulous.

And while that was going on outside, I was making a few other dishes inside.  A Thai rice salad and a peasant-style dish with broccoli rabe and bread and chickpeas.  I'll be posting both recipes later this week.

The recipes themselves aren't the point of this post.  The point - as I meander about before getting to it - comes from a question John posed to me while I was prepping the side dishes or typing the recipes into the drafts for later posts.  (And here's where I'm going to go rambling all over the place, so buckle up.)

John came into the kitchen and told me about a dining experience he and his wife had had recently.  Basically it boiled down to this - their meals were just...okay.  Nothing special.  Not terrible, not exciting.  Just...adequate.  Meanwhile, over at another table, there was a group of people basically raving and exclaiming over every dish they were served.  And John and his wife watched this going on...and they started to compare...and discuss...and ponder.

Those people - the ones enjoying their meal - were perfectly happy and delighted with the food they received. 

John and his wife were not unhappy with theirs, but they were not...excited by the food.

And so - does that matter?  And if it does...why?  Why seek out the more exciting flavors?  Why step beyond?  Why try to recreate or improve upon the foods we cook and eat?  Why not just be content with basic correctly cooked meals that are what they say they are and no more?

What is the payoff? 

What makes some of us delve into cookbooks and magazines and food blogs, perusing ingredients the way someone else might obsess over baseball stats.  Why do we experiment with flavor combinations...new ingredients...better equipment...why do we hone our cooking techniques...learn to whip egg whites to the correct peak...drizzle truffle oil on our pasta...hone our knife skills...Why?  And why are there other people who don't?

Am I better off, in some way, because I can both detect and appreciate the hint of tamarind in a 17 ingredient hot sauce?  Why spend time measuring out tiny amounts of ingredients, chopping vegetables and cooking and pureeing the whole mess when I could just as easily have picked up something hot and spicy at the store? 

Am I happier because I do all that?  Well...yes.  I am. 

Am I happier than someone who wouldn't do all that?  Someone who would buy something hot and spicy and save themself some time and effort?  No, I'm probably not.

I guess we just all have our own thing.  Our own something that may seem unnecessary and a waste of time to someone else, but which is, at the core, a very necessary part of our living experience.

I guess it's partly a creative outlet.  Cooking - even if you're following someone else's recipe to the letter - is still a creative process.  You are still the one bridging the gap between ingredient and meal.  You may have been following someone else's instructions, but still, you did the work.  You performed this labor of love.

But for some of us, I guess the creativity goes beyond the basic level.  Not only do we want to put food on the table, but we also want - or need - to take it a step further.  We want and/or need to see what would happen if we, say, substituted leeks for onions in this dish.  Used pork instead of chicken.  Chinese five spice powder instead of cinnamon.  What if?

I told John he needs to see the movie Ratatouille.  Yeah, it's animated and all that, but still - it's an excellent movie.  And it kind of relates to this whole issue of being content with what is, and wanting to discover what else it could be.  I explained to John the basic premise of the rat who isn't content to eat garbage...who is excited and inspired by flavors and combinations of flavors...and yes, again, I am talking about an animated film originally intended for kids.  But still.  It's relevant.

Why care about Meyer lemons and Key limes when regular ol' lemons and limes are probably less expensive and easier to get?  Why make a croissant when you can buy one?  And if you're buying, then why buy freshly made croissants at a specialty bakery when the frozen heat-and-serve kind at the grocery store are way cheaper?  Why?

Because...for some of us...those particular little things matter.  It's passion.  It's love.  It's obsession.  It's inspiration.  It's joy.  It's accomplishment.  It's creativity.  Productivity.  Fun. 

And it just can't be helped.  It's who we are, I think.  Whoever we are.  It applies to everything, not just food or cooking.  For many of us, there are certain things, certain areas of our lives, that we cannot leave alone, and cannot ignore.  These are the fires within us.  We hunger...we wonder...we lust...we crave...we cannot sit on the sidelines.  We are not satisfied unless we can touch that magical "IT" with our minds and hands.  Until we can participate, heart and mind and spirit, and feel that sense of accomplishment afterward.  Big or small, I think that is the payoff.

Your thoughts?

 

   

Farmers' Market with Julia, 5.22.08

For the second week in a row, Julia and I have gone to the Farmers' Market at Goddard State Park.  It's still relatively early in the season - the first day we went there were only a few booths on hand - most of the farms were selling plants - flowers, vegetables, herbs - rather than produce.  There were a few other booths, including Buttonwoods Bathworks, which sells soaps and lotions and scrubs (oh my) made of local ingredients.  Julia picked out a peppermint soap and I bought a foot scrub.  And I bought a black columbine - I love black or dark, dark flowers. 

This time around (Friday, the 22nd) there were more booths open and more people shopping.  And - to Julia's great delight - more dogs to pet.

I bought a bunch of garlic scallions to use in a salad I planned to make over the weekend...

and I bought a parsley plant, a plum tomato plant, and an Italian eggplant plant to fill in the gaps in our own garden.  (The parsley and eggplant seeds were past their prime and didn't germinate, and some furry varmint ate one of our San Marzano tomato plants.) 

All along the way, Julia made friends with the farmers and customers, chatting away, inviting them to her birthday party (which had already taken place), telling them all how old she was and that in another year she'd be five and would go to the same school as her brother.  And it was such a wonderful experience because no one was impatient with her.  Every single person gave her all their attention, asked questions, and basically became her new best friend.

We also bought honey sticks from one of the two apiary stands.  Julia was attracted by the colors...

Licorice, strawberry, orange, cherry, root beer, blueberry, lemon, coconut, apple, and raspberry.

I bought some honey, and some grade B maple syrup, and then we were on our way.

The Farmers' Market was Julia's favorite part of our busy morning, and I have to say it was mine, too.   

Out and About

Hi,

Just a quick note to say I'll be posting later.  This morning, after Alex goes to kindergarten, Julia and I are heading to our local Farmers Market and then to the grocery store to gather provisions for a whole lotta cooking and baking I've got going on today and tomorrow.  Hopefully there will be enough leftovers that I can coast through the rest of the holiday weekend, but I doubt it.

So, for your amusement, I leave you with a couple of Julia pictures.  Why?  Because she's an incredible ham, that's why.  And particularly because of Di's comment to this post the other day.  Di?  If you're reading this - here's what Julia did the day after you predicted it...though I wasn't expecting it quite so soon.

She colored her nails (with orange marker) because one of the little girls in her gymnastics class has color on HER nails.  Pretty, isn't it?

And here is Julia, checking out the front yard gardens with me the other day.

She's doing some sort of dance. 

And that's her camera, hanging from her neck.  We were taking pictures of the flowers - you can see some of my irises right there in front of her. 

When we go to the Farmers Market today, she will undoubtedly pick up pot after pot of flowering plant and ask if we can bring it home.

Sorry, chicky, but we have a lot of flowers already. 

Anyway, that's the plan for the morning.  I'll report back later on.

Happy Friday!

Google Hot Sauce - from Food 2.0, by Charlie Ayers

If you can't stand the heat...

...then this may not be the sauce for you.  From the book Food 2.0, by Charlie Ayers, this is not your run-of-the-mill hot sauce.  With seventeen ingredients, not counting water, this is a sauce that will set your mouth on fire and your taste buds tingling.  Sweet, tangy, smokey and spicy.  What's not to love?

Above is a photo of a breakfast taco I made this morning - scrambled eggs, sauteed mushrooms, sauteed broccoli rabe, melty Edam cheese, and a healthy drizzle of Google Hot Sauce right down the middle.  Forget the coffee - THIS will wake you right up!

I made the sauce Tuesday evening, and Bill and I tested it out on fish tacos - pan-fried tilapia, baby spinach leaves, fresh guacamole (with cilantro and chives from our garden), and Edam.  Edam is a nice, mild, soothing sort of cheese - an excellent foil for the super-assertive hot sauce.

Now, we like heat.  We eat things spicy.  But if it's just heat, and no real flavor, then we're not impressed.  Sure, our eyes may water and we may sneeze fire, but heat without flavor is just culinary window dressing.

So we tried the sauce.  And loved it.  I knew, when I started cooking, that it would be good.  Just the assortment of ingredients involved...and then the variety of smells that drifted through my kitchen while the ingredients simmered on the stove.  And I wasn't wrong.

Thank you, Charlie Ayers, for concocting this addictive potion. 

Google Hot Sauce is good stuff.  And it's simple to make, too. 

Here, I'll show you.

But first - a few words of caution.  And I'm sure you've heard it before, but it's worth repeating.  Unless you enjoy pain, wear gloves or use something (I used paper towel) to hold the chilies while you chop them.  These babies are HOT, and if you touch the insides with your bare fingers, you're setting yourself up for some serious pain in some form later on.  Touch your eye after handling a habanero, and you'll wish you were chopping onions instead.  Really.  So be careful.  And wash your hands well after you're done, even if you were taking precautions. 

Okay?  Now on to the sauce.

First - the ingredients:

1 cup fresh habanero chilies, roughly chopped  (I think I used about 12 or so)

1/3 cup fresh jalapeno chilies, roughly chopped (I goofed - bought serranos - similar, smaller, and hotter)

1 dried chipotle, crushed

2 T tomato paste

1 T minced ginger

1 T tamarind paste

1 T pomegranate molasses (I used plain ol' Grandma's)

1  1/2 T apple cider vinegar

1/3 cup fresh orange juice

4 tsp unrefined light brown sugar (I used turbinado)

juice of one lime

1 sm carrot, finely diced

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 celery rib, finely chopped

2 T Worcestershire sauce

1 T fish Thai fish sauce

3 T good drinking red wine (I used Robert Mondavi (may he rest in peace) 2006 Private Selection Pinot Noir)

And now - the complicated instructions:

Place all the ingredients in a heavy-based pan.  Add 1/2 cup water. 

Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover, and simmer very gently, stirring occasionally, until rich and thick and the vegetables are very soft, about 45 minutes.

I took notes while this cooked, so I could describe the range of smells as the sauce simmered..."first - vinegar...then smoke and sweet...then mirepoix along w/the smoke/sweet...fruity, fiery, tangy."

Puree in a blender, then pass through a strainer  (oops - didn't do that, so I ended up with a few seeds and a bit of texture).  Add a little more water to thin to the desired consistency (didn't need it). 

Store in a clean, sealed jar in the refrigerator.  Serve to fire up any of the recipes that call for chili sauce, or use on tacos, crostini, wraps, or even peanut butter sandwiches!

Or to fire up your breakfast. 

* To enter the giveaway, featuring a hardcover copy of Food 2.0 and a nifty lunch bag, go here!

Food 2.0 - Another Cookbook to Give Away!

DK Publishing sent me an advance copy of this book several weeks ago, and I've been reading and re-reading the recipes ever since.

I've got about 20 pages marked with mini post-it note things, and I think I put off writing about it because I couldn't narrow down the recipes to one or two to focus on.

The official background of the book is here, on the DK Publishing website.  To be honest, I had vaguely heard of Charlie Ayers, but didn't know anything about him.  Turns out he cooked for The Greatful Dead before he was hired to feed the growing number of Google employees. 

I know now that food-wise, we'd get along pretty well.  His emphasis is on locally produced, organic ingredients and lively, intense flavors from a wide variety of cuisines.

The one and only recipe that I was actually puzzled by was his recipe for fish tacos.  He calls for fish sticks.    Now, I have used fish sticks in fish tacos, but it just seemed really odd, in a book espousing the virtues of local, fresh foods, that rather than suggesting some possible kinds of fish to use, depending on what part of the country you're in, he suggests fish sticks.  Maybe it's because not everyone has access to fresh caught local fish...but still. 

I've decided, since I couldn't narrow the recipes down, I figure over the next week, while the giveaway is running, I'll try out a variety of recipes and post about them, so you can sort of peek at the food before entering the contest, if you want.

Oh - and I should also mention - in addition to a copy of the book (hardcover and in color, not a paperback advance copy in black and white), the publisher is also giving the winner a handy dandy lunch bag, so you can tote your healthy, locally grown lunch with you to work every day.

So, to get things started, and to give you an idea of the sort of thing Food 2.0 has to offer, I'll be posting (separately) the recipe for "Google Hot Sauce."  It's got heat, and layers and layers of flavor.  It packs a punch, but does so with style.

In the meantime, to enter this giveaway, here are the rules:

First, to enter, I'd like to hear from you in the comments section of THIS post, do you shop at farm stands or farmers markets on a regular basis?  What's available in your part of the world?

Second, the contest will end in one week - Wednesday, May 28th, at midnight, eastern standard time.  Any entries posted after that time - or anywhere other than in the comments section of THIS post - will not be considered.

Third, this will be a random drawing - I'll have the old faithful Random Integer thingy pick the lucky winner.

Any questions?  Okay, then - let the contest begin!  Oh - and I'll be posting the "Google Hot Sauce" in a bit later this evening.

Please, Sir, I want S'more

I've been wanting to make some kind of cookie with stuff in it.  Like chocolate chip with nuts...or oatmeal with coconut and golden raisins and nuts and chocolate chips and candied ginger and all the other scraps in my pantry.  You know, a cookie like that.

So I went foraging.  And I found, among other things, mini marshmallows (which I don't remember buying, but I must have made something with them because it wasn't a full package.  Or I just ate a huge handful of them and guiltily hid the bag behind instant oatmeal and packages of raisins.)...and some partially-gnawed chocolate Easter bunnies (with crispy rice mixed into the chocolate!)...and that led to me looking on the very top shelf - and sure enough, there were some graham crackers.  Oh, that's right - because I'd made the crust for that Florida Pie a couple weeks ago.

Anyway, as you could tell from the title, I made S'more Cookies.  Never made them before, so I just followed a basic chocolate chip cookie recipe and made some alterations and, voila! - cookies that the whole family could enjoy! 

And here's what I did...

S'more Cookies

Ingredients:

2  1/4 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup shortening (I was entirely out of butter, thanks to Dorie and all her wonderfully butter-laden concoctions that I've made recently)

3/4 cup light brown sugar

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1   1/2 tsp vanilla

3 eggs

about 1 cup mini marshmallows

1  1/3 large low-end quality chocolate Easter bunnies (with crispy rice bits in them), roughly chopped

6 whole graham crackers, broken up

~~~~~

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F., and get some cookie sheets ready and line them with parchment paper.  I made 48 cookies exactly, just so you have an idea of how much you're making.

Cream the butter and sugars together til sort of light and fluffy.  I really, really don't like using shortening, but I just was too stubborn not to go ahead with the cookies, so I tried not to cringe at the sugar/shortening blend, but really, it just looks odd to me.

Add the eggs, one at a time, and combine thoroughly. 

Add in the vanilla too, and combine.

Whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt, and add that to the batter, and mix until just combined - don't overbeat.

By hand, (well, with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula), mix in the marshmallows, bunny bits, and graham crackers.

With your hands, scoop up portions of dough about the size of a golf ball and place on the baking sheet, leaving space between them, because they will spread.  If your hands get too sticky, run them under water and leave your hands a bit wet - the dough won't stick.

Bake about 15 minutes (depending on your oven), rotating pans once mid-way through.

Allow to cool a bit on the pan before you try to take them off, because the marshmallow will cling to the parchment paper, to other cookies, to your arm, to the phone - pretty much to anything it can grab.

Hand them out to your family and see how they like them.  Or hoard them for yourself.

Flavor-wise, they've got a dark, molassasy flavor, which comes from using two dark sugars instead of white and light. 

Also, the taste and texture of the melted-and-cooled mini marshmallows reminded me of rice crispie treats. 

The chocolate?  Terrible.  Well - acceptable, but it's just hacked up Nestle Easter Bunny chocolate, so it's not going to blow anyone away.  But still, it suited my purpose, which was to clean out some stuff from the cupboards and turn that into cookies.

Mission accomplished.

Tuesdays With Dorie (and Sunday With Julia - no, not THAT Julia, MY Julia): Perfection Pound Cake as Birthday Cake

Long enough post title for you?

 

This week's Tuesdays With Dorie challenge was to make the Traditional Madeleines found on pages 166-168 of "Baking, From My Home to Yours," and was chosen by Tara of Smells Like Home.   We were also given the option of choosing one of the past TWD recipes if we didn't have the correct pan to make the madeleines. 

And so for two reasons, I didn't make the madeleines.  First off, I don't have the right pan, and though I could pretty easily get one, there was reason number two - my daughter's birthday party and the requisite cake for that.  So, in my merry two-birds-with-one-stone killer way, I picked the Perfection Pound Cake, which was chosen back in January, long before I was a member.

Pound Cake, as Dorie mentions in the "Playing Around" section of the recipe, "lends itself to variations minor and major."  And that's exactly what happened with mine.  I had asked the soon-to-be Birthday Girl what kind of cake she wanted.  Asked her several times, in fact, because I know how often her mind can change.  Ultimately it boiled down to these three requests:  Strawberry cake, Purple on the outside, with Pink flowers on it.

Purple on the outside was simple enough - just color some fondant and that would be that.

Pink flowers - nothing I couldn't accomplish with some pink royal icing.

And the strawberry cake?

I used Dorie's Perfection Pound Cake recipe - tripled, because there would be at least 14 people, if not more, and I generally make about twice what I realistically need because I'm insecure that way.

To the cake, I added some orange zest, because, well, I've been using lemon (and lime) a lot lately, and I needed a change in citrus. 

And I sliced about 3 pounds of strawberries or so and macerated them briefly in some sugar.

And so here's how it all went down....

Ingredients:

2 cups all-purpose flour or 2  1/4 cups cake flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

2 sticks (8 oz) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup sugar

4 large eggs, at room temperature

1 tsp pure vanilla extract

Getting Ready:

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.  Butter a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan or an 8  1/2 x 4  1/2 inch loaf pan.  Put the pan on an insulated baking sheet or on two regular baking sheets stacked one on top of the other. 

Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt.

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar on high speed until pale and fluffy, a full 5 minutes.   

(Add in the orange zest.)  Scrape down the bowl and beater and reduce the mixer speed to medium.  Add the eggs one at a time,

beating for 1 to 2 minutes after each egg goes in.  As you're working, scrape down the bowl and beater often.  Mix in the vanilla extract.  Reduce the mixer speeed to low and add the flour, mixing only until it is incorporated--don't overmix.  In fact, you might want to fold in the last of the flour, or even all fo it, by hand with a rubber spatula. 

Scrape the batter into the buttered pan and smooth the top.

(And scatter the strawberries on top and press lightly into the batter

Put the cake into the oven to bake, and check on it after about 45 minutes.  If it's browning too quickly, cover it loosely with a foil tent.  If you're using a 9x5 pan, you'll need to bake the cake for 70-75 minutes; the smaller pan needs about 90 minutes.  The cake is properly baked when a thin knife inserted deep into the center comes out clean. 

(The heart-shaped pans ranged in bake time from about an hour to an hour and a half.)

Remove the cake from the oven, transfer the pan to a rack and let rest for 30 minutes.

Run a blunt knjife betwene the cake and the sides of the pan and turn the cake out, then turn it right side up on the rack and cool to room temperature.

So those are my Perfection Pound Cakes - with strawberries pressed into the tops.  They smelled phenomenal, and I had to fight my family off in order to keep the cakes safe for Julia's party.

Once the cakes were cool, it was time for the construction.  I couldn't exactly level the surfaces of the cakes, because I'd end up slicing away a lot of the all-important strawberries.  And I could have put the strawberries in the bottom of the pan...and I had thought about it...but I forgot until I'd filled the first pan, so I just pressed them on top.

I also didn't want to cover the whole thing with fondant because - again - the strawberries.  They looked so yummy...I couldn't hide them.

First, I sliced each cake in half, so I'd have two layers per cake...and I slathered seedless strawberry jam in between the layers.

I also wanted to enhance the appearance of the strawberries, so I melted down some apricot preserves and glazed them with that.  Nice and moist and shiny.

Then I wrapped ribbons of fondant I'd colored with "aster mauve" and "delphinium blue" around the edges of each layer.

And to all that, I added some fondant ribbons and royal icing leaves and flowers, and this was how it looked:

Later on, after we'd sung "Happy Birthday" and Julia had blown out the candles, I started to cut the cake.

And in that momentary silence, my little Birthday Princess said,

"I don't want any cake.  I just want ice cream...I don't really like cake."

~~~~~

Everyone else seemed to like it.  And of course I'd made way too much, but I gave everyone a chunk of it to bring home, and this was all that was left:

So Happy 4th Birthday, Julia! 

Next year you get pie.

Typing in my Tiara

We had Julia's birthday party yesterday.  Family and some friends, food, cake and ice cream, and - best of all - nice weather, so people could spend some of their time outside.

Today...the cleanup.  I didn't do much more than pack up the leftover food and stick it in the fridge (not that there was much of it) last night. 

And that tiara I mentioned?  Yes, I've been sitting here checking email and other peoples' blogs this morning wearing one of the tiaras I'd bought as favors for the other little princesses that were invited to the party.  Julia told me to.  So I did.  Not much fight in me this morning.  Thing is, none of the invitees from her daycare came, so I'm left with a lovely selection of sequined tiaras in assorted colors.  And bags of assorted necklaces and rings and bracelets, too. 

Right at this very moment, Julia is traipsing through the house in her underwear, adorned with a necklace, three rings, and a bejewelled barrette in her hair.  She is stunning.

The party was fun - really, a nice number of people.  I'm actually glad the daycare chicks didn't come, though it would have been nice if their parents had RSVP'd so I wouldn't have planned for their attendance, just in case they showed.

But anyway...Julia had fun, and that was the main thing.

The birthday cake I made is going to be the focus of my Tuesdays With Dorie post tomorrow, so I'm afraid I won't be sharing pictures of it today.  I can share this with you, however:  I had asked Julia several times (just to make sure she didn't change her mind) what she wanted for a cake.  She wanted a "strawberry cake" with purple on the outside and pink flowers.  So that's what she got, with a bit of artistic license on my part.

(Update:  Julia now has 4 necklaces, 2 barrettes, one hair clip, and no rings.  I think the rings were a bit cumbersome.  She can only handle so much bling.

Sigh.

I'm just looking around.  You know, I had the house looking so nice...but whatever.  The debris is proof of a good party, I guess.

Gotta go get Alex moving along for school...and then it's time to tackle the kitchen.

Talk to you later...

Happy Birthday, Beth!

My daughter was born close to but not on the same date as Beth's birthday.

Beth and my sister, Meredith, have been friends since the first grade, and Beth has also become my friend, too.

Of course, the fact that Julia was NOT born on Beth's birthday had caused a bit of friction between us, but I think Julia's antics over the years have softened that somewhat.

That, and the fact that in personality, Julia is very much a mini-Beth. 

Not 100% though - there is that whole eyeball eating thing....

Anyway, in honor of Beth, here are a few Julia anecdotes.

~~~~~

Last week, when we had Bill's guitar students over after their juries, and we served them lots of food, part of the spread included cheese, and one of the cheeses was brie.

Julia loves brie.  She doesn't always remember the name, but when she refers to "The Squishy Cheese,"  brie is what she means.

Well, we had some brie left over.  As well as the three other cheeses served that night.

Alex doesn't like brie.  He likes cheddar.  So one afternoon Alex was hungry and wanted some cheese and crackers.  Cheddar and crackers.  I cut up some slices of cheddar and put them on crackers, and he was happy. 

Julia wanted cheese and crackers, too, but not cheddar.  She wanted the squishy cheese.  So I got that out, sliced some up, put it on some crackers, and gave it to her.  And she was happy.

I went upstairs to put laundry away or something...and a bit later, I heard some sort of scraping noise coming from below.  I went downstairs, because, having known my daughter for a while now, I had a feeling I knew what she was doing.

And sure enough, when I got downstairs and rounded the corner on the way to the kitchen, there she was:  standing on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, surveying the counters.  She was looking for the brie.  The scraping sound I'd heard was Julia bringing that chair from the dining room to the kitchen. 

Unfortunately for her, I'd put the cheeses back in the fridge.  But she probably would have figured that out, given enough time.

~~~~~

Another brie story...

(And yes, in case you were wondering, we DO live on brie.  It goes so well with the caviar and champagne.)

Anyway, this may have been the same wedge of brie...we only had a little of it left, and I'd put it out on the counter one evening, before dinner, for us to pick at while the meal was cooking.

At some point, Julia and Alex had gone downstairs, Bill was in the music/computer room practicing, and I had gone in to look up something on the computer.  I had a great view of the hall, and the doorway to the basement, and part of the kitchen.

Julia came upstairs and wanted another piece of brie, so I cut her a little bit and off she went.

That sentence I just wrote?  Repeat it.

Then she decided she didn't need me, so she managed, probably on tippy-toes, to cut herself a little more cheese.  Fine.  I'm all for self-sufficiency.

And she did that once or twice more. 

And then I saw her edging from the kitchen toward the stairs...hands behind her back, smiley "nothing to see here" face shining at me.

"Julia, did you take the rest of the cheese?"

Still smiling, she nodded...and held out her left hand, which was clutching the last hunk of brie.

~~~~~

Last week, before the dinner for Bill's students, (well, his and the other guitar teacher's students, really), Bill had been fighting off a case of bronchitis.  He stayed home from work a couple of days, and his only comfort came from watching the original three Star Wars movies.  Julia would join him sometimes, but Alex didn't like the movies at all.  He is my Ferdinand the Bull, preferring peace and beauty to light sabres and blasters.

Anyway, Julia loved the movies.  I don't know if it was because she got to hang out with Daddy all by herself and that made it special, or if it's just her nature.  I think a bit of both.

She's seen bits and pieces of the movies a few times now, especially Empire Strikes Back.  I think that's her favorite.  (She's also her mother's daughter.) 

Got all that background stuff?  Good.

Last night at dinner, out of the blue, Julia said "I love Star Wars."

Alex, who doesn't, asked "Which is your favorite part?"

And Julia didn't even have to think.  "When the tauntaun dies."  She ate some more spaghetti.

Alex asked "What's a tauntaun?"

Julia, laughing:  "It's a big animal with FUNNY HORNS!"  And she made twirly motions with her hands at the sides of her head.  She could also have been referring to Leia's coif in the first movie.

We ate in silence for a moment, and then Julia got a dreamy look on her face.  She was still thinking about Empire Strikes Back.

"I love Yoga," she sighed.

~~~~~

And so,

A very Happy Birthday to you, Beth!

Love,

Jayne, Bill, Alex...

and especially,

Julia

Okra and Tempeh, Indian Style

I was reading through all the Tuesdays With Dorie blogs these last several days, and I found a recipe on one that sounded perfect for dinner. 

It's Madhur Jaffrey's Sweet and Sour Okra, and it was posted by Shirlie of Stop and Smell the Basil (which, by the way, is good advice).

Anyway, it sounded good, I love Indian food, and, amazingly, I happened to have a package of okra in the freezer.  It was meant to be.

To get the recipe, please click on the link for it above. 

I added a package of tempeh to the recipe, because I didn't have the full amount of okra the recipe called for, but I did have a package of tempeh in the freezer, too, and I figured it would work nicely.

Tempeh, by the way, is fermented, cooked soybeans combined with the Rhizopus mold to form a whitish, chewy cake.  You can use it as a meat substitute if you wish - I've used it for tacos or fajitas, for example - or you can slice it up and fry it in some oil and make french fries out of it.  My kids like it that way.

Anyway, in addition to the okra and the tempeh, the recipe is full of plenty of intense flavor, including garlic, red pepper flakes, coriander and cumin, and turmeric, which mainly adds color, and has a faintly metalic taste (at least to me), and lemon juice. 

The dish came together really quickly, and while I was getting that ready, I cooked up some rice to serve with the okra/tempeh mixture.

Here's a small bowl of the final product:

I halved the amount of red pepper flakes called for, only because sometimes the kids don't like the heat.  Next time, I'll use the full amount.

Bill and I loved it.  The okra and the tempeh soaked in all the flavor of the spices, and the "sour" of the lemon juice was not overpowering.  It had a nice balance of warmth and faint tartness. 

Julia liked it, though she didn't eat a lot of it and mostly just ate her rice.

Alex...well, Alex took one look and didn't think he was going to like it.  The thing is, he does this with a lot of new things now, and once he tries them, he doesn't always dislike them.  So the rule is, he has to TRY it.  Just one piece, and if he doesn't like it, okay.  Just eat the rest of the food on the plate.

But he really, really didn't want to try it.  And we really, really (nicely) told him it wasn't going to hurt him, and he really really didn't know if he didn't like it because he'd never had it (okra) before.

So we found the smallest piece of okra on his plate, checked it to make sure no red pepper bits were hiding on it anywhere, and told him to just try it.

And, finally, he did. 

New Neighbors...and Pictures of My Kids

I was getting dinner ready last night and Bill was outside when the new neighbors started to move into their house.

Bill called to me from outside, quietly, so as not to be rude.

And behind our house, we could see the Mister surveying the neighborhood from his front window.

A bit later, the Missus came back from curtain-shopping...

Alex, in particular, was very excited about this.  I think I wrote about getting these birdhouses a month or so ago (Julia's is the smaller abode to the left).  To be honest, I thought it was too late in the season; that all the birds had already built their nests and were waiting for their offspring to hatch.

But I was wrong.  So hopefully in the near future we will get to see little baby sparrows poke their heads out that front door/window and learn to fly across our back yard.

~~~~~

While I sat outside snapping distant pictures of birds, Alex looked for bugs and worms and things,

and Julia flung dirt with a shovel for no particular reason other than she is Julia.

 

And while I'm at it, here are more pictures of my kids from last evening.  Just because.

You can just tell where the picture above is going...and you're right.

Below, Alex is telling me the difference between butterfly antennae and moth antennae...

 

 

And here are some of Julia...being Julia.

She's nearly four.  My baby girl.  And nearly ready to rule the world.  She just needs to fix the tag on her shirt, and I think she'll be all set.

First Harvest, Two Ways

All of our gardens this year seem, at this point, to be more lush and productive than they were at this time last year.  Maybe it's the weather.  Maybe it's the super awesome compost we put down.  Maybe my husband's green thumb grew THREE SIZES that day.  I don't know.  But we've got a lot of green stuff out there.

We've been picking asparagus for several weeks now, and here and there a leaf of something, but yesterday, we actually harvested some things.  In a collander (so you know we mean business).

Here's the take:

Four pak choi, two more asparagus, and about 6 broccoli rabe plants.  Part of the reason we pulled these (except the asparagus) was because they had grown so tall they were blocking light from some smaller plants behind them.  The broccoli rabe can really go a bit longer, but, again, they were blocking light, and I was hungry.

My initial plan was to cook all the greens together, probably in some kind of pasta dish.  But something in me resisted that plan and so I figured, okay, I'll make two dishes.  I thought it would be fun to make these two dishes kind of similar, but with different ethnic influences.

No real recipe - I didn't measure things - but here's what I did:

Spaghetti with Broccoli Rabe and Asparagus

I poured some olive oil in a pan, added two crushed, sliced cloves of garlic, and about two tablespoons of tomato paste.

To that I added a good slug of Blueberry Wine (yes, blueberry) from Cellardoor Vineyard in Lincolnville, ME (not far from Camden).  Why Blueberry Wine?  The bottle was already uncorked.  And it's red.

I whisked all that together and let it simmer for a bit, and sprinkled some oregano in there, too.  While all that was going on, I also had a big pot of water on the stove, coming to a boil, for the spaghetti.

I rinsed the rabe (and trimmed off the roots) and the asparagus...

I also thawed some shrimp and sliced them in half, lengthwise.

Once the spaghetti was cooking, I sliced the rabe, broke the asparagus into pieces, and added them to the tomato paste and garlic mixture.  When that had cooked down, I added the shrimp pieces, and then, when the spaghetti was cooked, I combined the spaghetti with the sauce/shrimp/greens mixture and served.

A little freshly grated parmesan on top, and my kids were both quite happy to eat this for dinner.

While I was doing all that, I was also concocting this:

Thai Style Rice Noodles with Baby Pac Choi

 

First up, I trimmed the roots from the pak choi leaves.

And then I rinsed the dirt off...

And sliced the leaves cross-wise, about an inch wide, and set them aside while I assembled some other ingredients...

And they are:  ban pho (rice noodles about half an ince wide), zest and eventually juice of one lime, 3 dried thai chilis (sliced later), sliced fresh ginger, two cloves of garlic, and some shrimp. 

I also had on hand some fish sauce (nuoc mam) and soy sauce.  I think that was everything.

I immersed the noodles in a large bowl of boiling water to soak for about ten minutes.

Once the spaghetti had been added to the sauce in the first recipe, I had my power burner free and set the wok above that.  I poured some vegetable oil in the wok and heated it until it started to smoke.

To that I added the garlic and ginger, sauteed them briefly, then added the chopped chilis, and the lime zest, and the fish and soy sauces.  I'd say to taste, but it was more to see and to smell.

Next in went the shrimp, and on top of that, the sliced pak choi, and the lime juice.

After the pak choi was wilted, I drained the rice noodles and added them into the wok and tossed the mixture together. 

Because of the heat from the thai chilis, Bill and I ate this and didn't give any to the kids.

Both dishes were good, though there is certainly room for improvement.  But for a quick, impromptu pair of noodle and fresh greens dishes, they were pretty tasty.

I love spring.

   

Browsing

I want to make these cupcakes for dinner.  Maybe tonight.

Lemon Sugar Bites

I needed to make some sort of desserty thing to bring to the party on Saturday, and I was going to do something fancy but ran out of time.  I'd made a big batch of short dough, some of which I used for last Thursday night to make little guitars and musical notes.

But I still had a lot of it left.  I was going to make other cut-out cookies and decorate some and let the kids decorate others, but like I said, I ran out of time.

So here's what we did.

I took the zest of one lemon, and about a cup of granulated sugar...put them in the food processor and buzzed them around til the zest was chopped up pretty fine and incorporated into the sugar.

Then I took pieces of the dough, rolled it into little balls (about the size of...hmm...smaller than a ping pong ball), then rolled the dough balls in the lemon zest/sugar mixture, put them on a parchment lined baking sheet, and pressed down to flatten somewhat.  Maybe to about a third of an inch thick or so.  I baked them in a 350 degree oven until just starting to turn golden around the edges.  Once cooled, the outsides were sugary-crisp with the tang of lemon, and the insides were buttery and ever so slightly soft. 

Nothing fancy about them at all. 

They just taste good.

 

A Closer Look at Meringue

Just because.

Cakes - Over the Hill 50 - 2008

I made this cake last week for a surprise (I think) party for the husband of a friend of a friend.  Inside, the cake was lemon, and the frosting in between the layers was just a plain frosting blended with seedless raspberry jam.  Over the whole thing was chocolate frosting, and then the fondant covered all of that.

This has become my "Over the Hill" cake.  A hill with little mile-markers representing the person's age, meandering up the cake, until the marker for the person's milestone birthday- that one points down to the rocks.  I made one a while ago for my friend (same friend as above) for her boyfriend's 40th birthday, and that one led to this one.

I don't know what my problem is, but I stress out about these cakes until I'm in the process of decorating them (in this particular case, rolling the "rocks" out of colored fondant and building the stone side of the mountain.  Or hill, I guess.)  Then - once I'm doing the fun stuff...the grown-up version of playing with Play-Doh, THEN it's fun and I remember why I still do these from time to time.

A friend of the wife picked the cake up at my house on Friday - and a very rainy Friday it was.  She held the umbrella while I carried the cake out to her SUV, and I told her that the raindrops would leave little shiny spots on the fondant.  Couldn't do anything about that.

Then she got in her vehicle, and I went in my house, and woo-hoo!  Stress-B-Gone!  Until the next time.

And Me Without A Speech Prepared

A week ago, Donna, of Spatulas, Corkscrews & Suitcases, sent me an email to let me know she'd given me (and 4 other bloggers) the "You Make My Day Award." 

Now, I'm really not someone who does well with praise, positive feedback, kudos, applause, or friendly smiles.  So I sort of gaped at the email and then quickly closed it and pretended it hadn't really happened.  Help!  What am I supposed to do with THIS?? 

So I emailed Donna and asked.  She likened it to girl scout badges, kind of.  It was longer than that, but I'm getting tired and it's late.  But clearly, it's a NICE THING, and I am kind of expected to continue along this PATH OF KINDNESS and pass this award along to some bloggers who - as suggested - MAKE MY DAY.  Oh, and by the way, I think I only made it through one year as a girl scout.  So I think I lack famililarity with badges as well.

Anyway. 

True to form, I stalled and procrastinated and "forgot" all about it because not only do I feel majorly uncomfortable with kind words and smiles and all directed at me, but I'm equally lacking in adeptness (is that a word?) in passing such things along to others - no matter how much they are deserving of kind words and smiles.  And chocolate.

I always figure either a) when I say it (the NICE THING), it will come out sounding stupid, or schmoozy, or stupid.  Or stupid.  Or, b) the person will scoff at my piddly gesture and I won't officially know about it because I can't see them, but I'll just assume that this is the case and so I will automatically cringe and wish I could hide somewhere.  Like Antarctica.  And c) the person will notice my eyebrows need waxing.  (Stop staring.)

Armed with this confidence, I now bravely step up to the mike and name my awardees.  (Is that a word?  I just keep making them up.  I'm going to need to write my own dictionary now.)

Oh - and I should say this - I was going to give the award to my sister and her blog, but she is a black belt in karate, and when I casually mentioned it, she threatened to hurt me.  And I sort of believed her.  She only has nine and a half toes, you know.  That's a person you don't mess with.  (Hi Mere!)

Okay, so here I go.

OH - wait - the rules.  (Donna?  I just copied them from your blog.  That's okay, right?  They won't revoke my award, will they?) 

The award rules are: give the award to people whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel happy about blogland. Let them know by posting a comment on their blog so they can pass it on. So I am passing the award on to:

Jen of Alien Spouse - because she cracks me up in just about every post, and because I have just learned that she, too, suffers from HORRIBLE HANDWRITING, which makes me feel just a little less alone in the world. 

KT of Zenslaw because she IS inspiring.  And a marvelous photographer.

Tracey of Beyond the Pale because she is capable of shooting red lasers out of her eyes.  And that impresses the hell out of me.   And she's marvelously creative and talented and funny.

Rebekka of Maple Sugar - for the beauty and elegance of her blog - and the gorgeous baking, too. 

Now I am going to email these folk and let them know about the award.  I hope they don't point and laugh at me.  But they probably will.

And all sarcasm aside - Thank you, Donna, for the award - I sincerely appreciate it.  :) 

 

At Joe and Em's

Last Saturday we went to a surprise 25th birthday party/housewarming party for our nephew, Joe.  (The housewarming part of this also included his girlfriend, Emily.  Hi Em!)

Anyway, I am mildly jealous about WHERE their house is - the back of the property ends at the edge of a pond - the western end of the property, which means not only a beautiful view of water, but also a beautiful view at sunset.  We weren't there when the sun set, so I don't have anything like that.  I just have images like this:

and this:

   

And while we were there, not one, but two families of Canada geese stopped by to collect the bits of rolls my kids and another little girl (one of Em's little cousins)

were throwing into the water.

The first family on the scene had 6 goslings...

 

And the second family brought 4...

And at some point, amid the carb frenzy...

The goslings got a little confused...and instead of six and four, there were five and five...

And then there were three and seven...

But eventually they sorted things out...

And the 4-gosling family went on their way first...and then the 6-gosling family went off in the opposite direction...

And we trooped, through a mine field of goose droppings, back to the party.

Some more pictures from that afternoon can be found right here.

TWD: Florida Pie

This week's Tuesdays With Dorie recipe was selected by Dianne of Dianne's Dishes, and I have to say I was SO glad to see that she had picked Dorie's "Florida Pie."  I love lime, love coconut, love cold and tart anything, so I was really looking forward to making this one.

The pie was pretty easy to put together, however I got distracted by one of my kids (can't remember which, so I can't blame one in particular) and as a result my meringue was overbeaten and kind of dry.  It sort of resembled polyfil - that fluffy stuff you find inside pillows and stuffed animals.  So the top of my pie didn't have smooth, elegant swoops of meringue as much as it had sweepings from the groomer's floor after she'd trimmed the coat of a white poodle.

   

See?

But enough of that.  It still tasted really, really good.

Ingredients:

1 9-inch graham cracker crust (page 235), fully baked and cooled, or a store-bought crust
1 1/3 cups heavy cream
1 1/2 cups shredded sweetened coconut
4 large eggs, seperated
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup fresh Key (or regular) lime juice (from about 5 regular limes)
1/4 cup of sugar

Getting Ready:

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.  Put the pie plate on a baking sheet lined with parchment of a silicone mat.  (I used a springform pan for some reason.  I think I like to make things just a bit more complicated than they need to be.)

Put the cream and 1 cup of the coconut in a small saucepan and bring it to a boil over medium-low heat, stirring almost constantly. 

Continue to cook and stir until the cream is reduced by half and the mixture is slightly thickened.

Scrape the coconut cream into a bowl and set it aside while you prepare the lime filling.

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with a paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl beat the egg yolks at high speed until thick and pale.  Reduce the mixer speed to low and beat in the condensed milk.  Still on low, add half of the lime juice.  When it is incorporated, add the reaming juice, again mixing until it is blended.  Spread the coconut cream in the bottom of the graham cracker crust,

and pour over the lime filling.

Bake the pie for 12 minutes.  Transfer the pie to a cooling rack and cool for 15 minutes, then freeze the pie for at least 1 hour.

To Finish the Pie with Meringue:

Put the 4 egg whites and the sugar in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan and heat over medium-low heat, whisking all the while, until the whites are hot to the touch.  Transfer the whites to a stand mixer, fitted with the whisk attachment, or use a hand mixer in a large bowl, and beat the whites at high speed until they reach room temperature and hold firm peaks.  (Don't overbeat or you'll end up with poodle hair!)  Using a rubber spatula, fold the remaining 1/2 cup coconut into the meringue.

Spread the meringue over the top of the pie, and run the pie under the broiler until the top of the meringue is golden brown.  (Keep an eye on it - if you get called away, for instance, by your daughter who wants to get out of the bath NOW, bribe her to stay put until you take the pie out of the oven.  It burns quickly, and some of your golden brown will become blackened black.) 

 

(Or, if you've got a blowtorch, you can use it to brown the meringue.)  Return the pie to the freezer for another 30 minutes or for up to 3 hours before serving.

Dorie also suggest you let the pie sit at room temp for about half an hour before serving, so it will be cold but not frozen solid when you serve it.

My taste-testers were Bill and Alex - Julia was in bed early for a variety of reasons. 

Alex also helped out with some slice-of-pie shots...

Alex, to his credit, tried to like the pie.  He likes pie, he likes citrus, and he likes coconut.  But despite his open-mindedness, he just does not like white creamy foods.  He didn't like the meringue (because he's not a fan of poodle fur on food), so we scraped that off.  And he had several bites of the pie and then, very reluctantly, he admitted he didn't really like it.  I know it's a texture thing with him.  But at least he tried it.

Bill LOVED this pie.  And as for me?  I loved it.  And it would be really delicious without the coconut, if you're not a fan.  But I love the chewy layer of coconut on top of the crust, and the icy cold lime filling is lovely.  I think I'd like to intensify the lime flavor next time around - maybe some lime zest in the filling.  Florida Pie would be perfect on a very warm summer evening.  Outside.   On the deck.  I will definitely make this one again.  Yum!

Oh - and don't forget to go check out how all the other Tuesdays With Dorie bakers did with this one!

The Peddlar

My Mother's Day came early this year, actually.

On Friday I attended the Mother's Day Tea at Alex's kindergarten. 

I thought about bringing my camera, or our little DVD camera.  But I decided not to.  I didn't want to be so wrapped up in getting good shots that I missed out on the actual event.  So no photos of Alex or the other little kids.

The mothers waited outside in the hallway until Mrs. Z, the kindergarten teacher (the most fabulous teacher in the universe), opened the door and told us to "form a straight line, no cutting" with a faint smile and a twinkle in her eyes.

One by one, she announced us:  "Alex's mom is here!" and each mother's child would come up to the door and escort (or drag) the mom to her tiny seat at one of the low tables throughout the room.  Each table was decorated with a pretty little tablecloth and a clay pot with flower-framed photos of the two children at that table.  At each mom's place was a small pile of papers, on top of which was something like this:

Funny thing is, Bill is usually the one who cooks the rice in our strange and glorious division of kitchen duties by food and part of the world.  Except I make the risotto.  Which Alex doesn't like.

Anyway, there were a few copies of tear-jerky poems with child-sized handprints, but since they weren't actual handprints made by Alex, they didn't jerk my tears at all.

There was a storybook he apparently thought up and illustrated. 

And there was my mug.

That's his name...a blue swordfish, a red giant squid (which he pronounces "squood"), and an octopus, all swimming above some seaweed.

And that black thing is a shark, and there's a snail and the gray thing with a pointy arrow thing is a stingray.  And down at the bottom, not that his class studied them at all during their Ocean Creatures month, but those are Patrick and Sponge Bob.   

And up high is a blue jellyfish, and way over on the top right, a penguin (I think)...then a blue whale, and underneath, a lobster and a crab.

Hee hee hee!

Anyway, the "Tea" began with a kind of demo of how the class begins every day - first a Helper is chosen, and this person helps out with listing the day of the week, the date, the weather, and so on...they practice their reading words...take a head count of girls and boys and then the total...all of them sitting in their places on the rug in front of the board.

Next they sang a bunch of songs, and after each song, Mrs. Z focused on some other part of the song - like, "And what punctuation mark is this?"  "And what does it mean?"  and so on.  They sang with gusto, especially songs like "Polar Bear, Polar Bear, Do You Wear Long Underwear?" 

After about 8 songs, they launched into the acting portion of the event.  I'd been waiting for this.  I overheard Alex reciting a familiar line from a book I remember seeing on The Captain Kangaroo show, of all things, and when I mentioned the book to him, he sort of froze, and then said they were "doing" that book for the Mother's Day Tea.

Anyway, a few kids were called up and held up sea creature masks, while the kids sang the song for it...(in which, one by one, sea creatures eat smaller sea creatures and are then eaten by the next sea creature up the food chain.  It ends with a humonguous whale who burps.  Naturally it is a hit with the kids.)  Then there was a song about astronauts...and then...the moment I had been waiting for.

Caps for Sale, by Esphyr Slobodkina.

And Alex was the Peddlar.

"Caps!  Caps for Sale!  Fifty cents a cap!"

Four other kids wore monkey masks and perched on top of a table, behind a small tree. 

As Mrs. Z read the story from a huge copy of the book perched on an easel, Alex recited all the peddlar's lines and acted out his portion of the story.

It was adorable, and yeah, of course it was adorable because it was my own kid, but also - just - the little sweet voice of a five-year-old (almost six!) portraying that of the increasingly annoyed peddlar as he tries to get the monkeys to give him back his caps (which, SPOILER ALERT! they stole while he was sleeping under the tree) is priceless. 

Oh - and the caps?  They used five straw cowboy hats.

Anyway, the peddlar falls asleep under the tree and the monkeys steal all but the peddlar's own cap.  Then they stick around up in the tree to taunt him, basically, as he demands the caps back:

"You monkeys, you!  Give me back my caps!"  And the monkeys, of course, just make noises at him.  So he gets angrier and angrier.

First, as he's hollering (in such a tiny little stage-frightened-but-the-show-must-go-on sort of voice!) again and again "You monkeys, you!  Give me back my caps!" he shakes one fist.  Then two.  Then he stamps one foot.  Then two (jumping up and down), until finally, he throws his hat down in frustration and, (ANOTHER SPOILER ALERT!) the monkeys copy him and throw down all the hats they'd taken. 

I can hear Alex's little peddlar voice...and see him shaking fists and stamping...or - earlier in the story - just walking around on the carpet, hawking his wares. 

It was the most wonderful production I have ever seen.

Anyway, there were some more skits after that, and some songs about mothers, and another really great song called "I am a pizza" - the second verse was sung in French - and then finally the kids all got to join the moms and eventually we had either tea or coffee (in our mugs) and some cookies and brownies and Dunkin Munchkins.  Mrs. Z had impressed upon the kids that they could take ONE OF EACH item, rather than as many as they could hold. 

So we sat together and ate our sugar and drank our beverages and I couldn't even think of a thing to say because I was just smiling too hard and my face sort of froze like that for a while. 

And when we were finished with our snacks, we gathered up our things, and said goodbye to his teachers, and headed to the car.

On our way out the door, Mrs. Z said something like "And didn't our little peddlar do a great job?" and I agreed heartily, and she said "We can always count on Alex."  And I wished her a happy mother's day, and that was the end of the Mother's Day Tea.

And besides imagining ways he might phrase his "thank you" to me when he accepts his first Oscar, or Tony, I felt kind of happy and content and good about life right then, because it's nice to know Alex is someone they can count on.  He told me that morning that he was nervous about performing in front of all the moms.  Actually, he told me that several times over the few days leading up to the Tea.  And I told him just to look at me when he was saying his lines, and pretend no one else was there.  But when it came time to do it, he didn't look at me.  He just did his job, tiny voice and all.

Afterward, he told me he didn't think he was loud enough for all the moms to hear.  And I know that feeling.  Like your mouth is forming the words, but instead of coming out, they seem to drift back down your throat, no matter how hard you try to project them.  But actually, I think he was heard just fine.  All the moms were silent.  For every kid who spoke a word or a sentence or made monkey noises that day.  All the moms silently cheering on every kid.

It was a lovely Tea.

Holding Hands

(Rough lines sketched out in between cooking scrambled eggs and opening cards this morning.)

~~~~~

I remember being smaller,

Walking

A bigger hand holding mine.

The feel of being small, and safe, and loved

All in that clasp.

My mother's long, slender fingers

Pretty nails

Hands that made dinner

Kneaded dough smooth

Formed pie crusts

Baked cookies.

Nurturing.

Softened steel.

And her wedding ring flashing gold.

My father's hand,

A bit rougher, wider

Gentle and capable and strong.

Wrapped around a camera.

My hands resemble his, more than hers.

Short fingers.

Short nails.

Sometimes wrapped around a camera.

Also kneading bread

Forming pie crusts.

Baking cookies.

The other day my daughter and I went to CVS to get apple juice and tissues.

We got out of the car and headed toward the store, and her small hand drifted up and into mine.

Automatically.  It's the rules, when we're in a parking lot.

We walked together this way

Her small hand in mine,

And I wondered

What does my hand feel like

To her?

Jumping on the Meme Bandwagon

I blame Tracey for this whole invasion of my privacy, but in a nice way, of course.

Okay, ready for trivia and perhaps a touch of whimsy and a smidge of sarcasm?  Read on:

~~~~~

1.ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?  Just below my left knee.  It was a bicycle accident involvoing colliding wire baskets and a newly tarred road.  I had 6 stitches!  And I watched!  (Twelve when it happened, and still twelve now, at least mentally.) 

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM? Which room?  In general, photos and drawings by the kids.  And about 3 feet up from the floor, probably plenty of fingerprints.  I try not to look down, because if I can't see them, I don't have to clean them. 

3. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN? Yep.  2:40 in the ay-em.

4. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?  Fame.  The unbridled adoration of millions of total strangers.  And tons of cash.  Please.

5. WHAT DO YOU MISS? Sometimes?  When I'm too lazy to walk across the kitchen?  And I throw the egg shells at the garbage can?  Sometimes I miss it. 

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION?  Like, as in, what would I grab if the house was burning down and we'd already managed to get the kids and pets outside, what would I run back in for and collapse from smoke inhalation and have to be rescued by a fireman?  I have no idea.  I'd collapse from smoke inhalation because I'd be standing there trying to decide what my most prized possession might be.  And I wouldn't be able to do it.  Because it's all just things.  Yeah, a lot of things have important memories attached to them, but in the grand scheme of things?  I don't prize possessions.  ...................That wasn't the answer you wanted?  Oh.  Okay.  Well then, most prized possession would beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee......................... my brain.  No, really.  I've been sitting here trying and trying to come up with a single possession that is most prized, and I can't.  Because if I think of one thing, then I think, well what about that?  Do I prize this over that?  Or that over this?  And then there are collections of things that are precious - like notes and letters my husband wrote to me when we were first together - but they are not one single thing.  However, all of these things are triggers for my brain, which releases a whole slideshow of memories...and if I didn't have that going on in my head, then the possessions would merely be...possessions.  Just things.  So there's my long and far-too-thought-out answer to THAT question. 

7. HOW TALL ARE YOU? Five feet, five and a half inches.

8. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DAY?  Um...I guess if a car almost slams into my car in the day, I'd get scared, but I don't spend a whole lot of time being scared in the day, so no.

9. WHAT’S YOUR WORST FEAR?  That studies will show that too much consumption of real butter on white bread is bad for you.  What?  They have?  Well, damn. 

10. WHAT KIND OF HAIR COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?  Pretty much any color as long as it's not also involved in a comb-over.

11. WHAT ABOUT EYE COLOR?  Anything other than pink.

12. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?  Coffee.

13. FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?  Anchovies.  No, really. 

14. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?  Anything?  Crumpets.  I'm all out.  If some could magically appear on the counter, I'd be grateful. 

15. FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME?  Of all time???  I don't have one.  Of all time?  What does that mean, anyway?  I haven't lived long enough for that.  For now...I'll say green.  And soft shades of pink.  And bright red.  And brick red, too.  And gray, lots of shades of gray.  And off-white.  And blue.  Dark blues.  And very light blues.  And black.  Oh, and dark brown.       

16. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?  Eew.  That would be a no.

17. WHAT WAS THE FIRST MEANINGFUL GIFT YOU EVER RECEIVED?  Well, I received my life a whole bunch of years ago.  I'd say that was the first.

18. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?  Yes.  Jacoby Ellsbury.  There.  I said it.

19. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?  Hahahahahahaha.  Yeah, right.

20. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU WANT?  The one I have.  I love my Subaru Outback.  I'd wanted one for years, and in 2004 I bought one.  Ta-da!

21. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?  I'd try not to, hypothetically, but it's not like you can always control your heart.

22. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE USA?  Yes.

23. YOUR WEAKNESSES?  Just one?  Good lord, I have thousands from which to choose. 

24. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?  Yes.

25. FIRST JOB?  Paper route.   

26. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?  Actually, no.  I'm really boring that way.

27. DO YOU THINK EVERYONE OUT THERE HAS A SOUL MATE?  Gak.  I wouldn't know. 

29. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?  Yes.

30. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?  My Barbie-like appearance.

31. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?  A new lens for my camera.  (See Amazon wish list.)  Besides that?  Oh...world peace.

32. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?  Well, I have two.  I don't really want any more, thanks. 

33. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?  Yes - my two grandmothers.

34. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST TURN OFF WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?  Ignorance.   

35. WHAT IS ONE THING YOU MISS ABOUT GRADE SCHOOL?  Recess.

36. WHAT KIND OF SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?  Suave.  The flavor varies.

37. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?  No.  I have horrible handwriting.  Since the third grade.  It's gotten especially worse because I type more than I write now.

38. ANY BAD HABITS?  Zillions.

39. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON?  On occasion.

40. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?  I don't know.  Depends on what the other me was like. 

41. DO YOU AGREE WITH FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS?  Oh I don't care.  I really don't.

42. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?  I become sarcastic.  And I mutter.  Both of those could be included in question number 38.

43. WHAT’S YOUR MAIN GOAL IN LIFE?  To not screw up my children.

44. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?  We didn't have toys.  We just had corn husks.  And dirt.

45. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?  Ten.  Those would be "one" through "zero."  Check your cell phone - I bet you have the same numbers as I do. 

46. WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY AS A LITTLE KID?  Barney was a little kid?  Well, I haven't been a fan of him as an adult, so I'm sure I wouldn't have liked the little kid version either.  Heh. Heh.  Sorry - I was a grown up WAAAAAAAAAAAAY before Barney burst onto the scene in all his scary purpleness.  I grew up with Oscar the Grouch.  Now HE was an interesting guy.

47. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?  Or?  Can't you pile one on the other?  No?  Okay.  Mashed potatoes. 

48. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?  Yes.

49. DO YOU HAVE A COMPUTER IN YOUR ROOM?  My room?  I have one - my laptop - in the kitchen, which, I suppose, is my room.  Our desktop computer is in the office/music room/only room still gated because we don't want Julia messing with stuff.  So actually we have computers in TWO of our rooms!  Woo-hoo! 

50. PLANS FOR TONIGHT?  I hope not.

51. WHAT’S THE FASTEST YOU’VE EVER GONE IN A CAR? I don't know.  Once I make the jump to hyperdrive, it's hard to keep track, since I'm too busy dodging asteroids. 

52. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?  My husband and my daughter watching "Empire Strikes Back" downstairs.  Julia:  "Is that a tauntaun?"  Bill "Yes."  Julia:  "COOL!"

53. LAST THING YOU DRANK?  Coffee. 

54. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?  Costa Rican.  The coffee, I mean.

55. DO YOU HAVE A LOW SELF ESTEEM OR A HIGH SELF ESTEEM?  My self esteem has won many limbo competitions, it's so low.

56. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?  An advance copy of "Meat:  A Love Story," by Susan Bourette.

~~~~~

And there you have it!  A good long peek into the depths of my soul.  Happy now?

And we have a winner!

Okay, the contest ended at midnight last night, and I ran the numbers through the Random Integer generator, and here's the result:

True Random Number Service

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

10

Timestamp: 2008-05-10 11:23:12 UTC

So the winner is number 10, and number 10 is...

Denise Graziano!  Congratulations, Denise!  Just shoot me an email (barefootkitchenwitch at yahoo dot com) with your shipping address and your new "Spain and the World Table" cookbook will be on its way!

Thanks to all who participated! 

 

Just a Quick Reminder...

The Spain Cookbook Giveaway ends tonight!  So if you're interested, and you haven't entered yet, you've got until midnight tonight, eastern standard time, to leave a comment in this post!

Random winner will be chosen Saturday morning!  Good luck!

Feeding the Boys

Last night we had some college guitar students over for dinner after their juries, or final performance exams.  I think there were 7 of them - not the 12 I had been told originally.  Plus the other classical guitar teacher - that made 8 extra mouths to feed. 

But it was more like 16 or 20.  Doesn't anyone feed these people?

I had some of the food out on the table by the time they started arriving, and Bill, who had zipped home after the juries, was grilling up the flat iron steaks and corn and chicken. 

I took a few pictures of the table before everyone arrived, but that was it.  I'll upload them at some point before the weekend is out. 

I love doing this sort of thing.  Well, I don't enjoy cleaning the house.  But I like cooking for a crowd.  And this crowd was special. 

For one thing, I didn't know any of them, except the other teacher.  And these kids had just finished up the semester by performing in front of both guitar teachers and maybe one other teacher (I think), after working on their performance pieces and scales and finger exercises, and they were, I know, just so glad it was all over with.

Last Sunday, most of the guitar dept (students and teachers) gave a small concert at a church and rather than write a check for the performances, the tradition at this church is to pass the hat.  Bill had thought that it would be nice to take that money and use it to buy the food and have this dinner for the students.  So that's how it all came about.  And we decided after last night that we'll make this a tradition.

They clearly weren't expecting the kind of spread we put out.  I don't know what they did expect, but I don't think it included brie or crab and roasted corn and cheddar quesadillas.  They were actually whispering "wow" when they saw the food.  It was cute. 

And they ATE.  Seconds, thirds.  Good thing there weren't 12 students last night because we wouldn't have had enough food.

Oh - and my kids - especially Julia - were a riot.  Not at all phased with all these strangers coming into the house, eating from out table, playing darts and fooseball in the basement.  Julia, in particular, rose to the occasion as 2nd hostess, sometimes showing the guys where the food was (though they already knew), and directing them to the type of cheese they should try.  "You can cut some of THIS one!"  She knows her foods.  Earlier in the evening, while students were still arriving, she was hungry, and took a plate and said she just wanted "some of this" and helped herself to a small piece of prosciutto.  That was it.  A minute later she was back.  "I'm still hungry,"  she told us.  "But I only want this."  And there went about a quarter of the remaining prosciutto.  Girl knows what she likes.

It was a really nice night.  The guys were polite, appreciative, and nice to (and extremely tolerant of) my kids, which scores the most points with me. 

Anyway, that was last night.  Today I will be attending the Mother's Day Tea at Alex's kindergarten, and I am SO looking forward to that.  He's been wiggling with the job of keeping all the little planned events a secret - not easy for a kindergartener.  He's let a few things slip, but that's okay.  It's like watching the trailers for a much-anticipated film.

Anyway, that's where things are at the moment. 

And here, since I haven't uploaded yesterday's food pictures, is another flower for your viewing pleasure.

Have a good day!

Cooking and Cleaning

We've got a bunch of guitar students coming here tonight after their juries this afternoon.  We're feeding them. 

I'm going to be busy cooking and cleaning (and bossing my children around, using them as cheap labor, because, after all, isn't that why people have kids?) and getting things ready for this evening.

Here's the menu, in case you were wondering:

Grilled flat iron steaks, sliced thin.

Gai yang - grilled chicken (in this case, boneless, skinless thighs) with hot and sweet dipping sauce.

Shrimp and Avocado with Wasabi

Crabmeat and grilled corn quesadillas.

Pasta salad with fresh asparagus and roasted red peppers, in an olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing.

Assorted cheeses, prosciutto, other meats, olives, and grapes.

Sliced vegetables with a couple of bean-based dips that I'll whip up later on.  I'm trying to use up the herbs we froze last fall.  We still have a lot of sage left, so I'm sure that will be an ingredient.

And I made some little shortbread-like cookies in the shapes of guitars and musical notes in case anyone wants something sweet.

Ta-da!  Well, I guess that's a bit premature.  But anyway, that's what I'll be working on today.

I'll try to take pictures of at least the finished products as I put the food together. 

In the meantime, above is a little picture of a tulip I took the other day.  Since I don't have any food pictures yet.

Asparagus

Photo inspired by a bit of my morning reading - here.  These came from our asparagus bed, which grows wider every year.  I picked them yesterday, and I plan to pick a few more today and tomorrow, as they become tall enough.  Favorite way to cook asparagus?  Actually, there are two:  either tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper and grilled on our charcoal grill...or sauteed in a pan with a little butter, little lemon juice, salt and pepper.  Yum.

Tasting Menu

A few weeks ago my husband and some of his buddies brewed up a batch of beer (about 20 gallons) to be divided among the four of them.

One of the guys brought his daughter along - a little girl right around Julia's age.  This is the second time she's been over, so she and Julia were already well acquainted.

Long before that first play date, the little girl's father and Bill and I had been sharing stories about our respective daughters and their rather strong little personalities.  We all figured the two of them would either hit it off or become mortal enemies.  Fortunately for all, they hit it off.  More or less.

This most recent time, Julia and "Jakey" as Julia constantly refers to the other little girl (her name is not Jakey, but it will be for this story) played together a lot, but their friendship was occasionally interrupted, as are many little girl friendships, by period of time when, as Julia told me "I'm not gonna be her best friend any more."  So there were moments of silence.  Times when one little girl played outside and the other one played inside.

But for the most part, they played together...dragged out all of Julia's toys and dolls together...colored with chalk in the driveway (and Jakey colored on her dad's truck with chalk, too).  So it was a pretty good day.  Jakey's dad also brought along Jakey's brother, who is about Alex's age, and the two of them were instant buddies.  So alike.  It was fun to watch them.

But anyway.  Over time, part of brew day's routine has come to include muffins from Whole Foods, that one of the guys picks up on his way here...Bill and I make lunch (which, this day, was spicy fish tacos - yum) and Jakey's dad brought a 12-pack assortment from Dunkin Donuts.  Alex had a glazed chocolate donut - he ate part of it and I saved the rest for later.  I think Julia had a glazed one...I forget who else had what. 

Anyway, the guys were outside tracking the beer's progress and playing whiffle ball (an important part of brew day, apparently)...the two little boys were watching a movie about dinosaurs downstairs...I was zesting lemons and other citrus for the beer, or doing dishes, or making guacamole for lunch - I don't remember where I was...and the girls were in the dining room. 

And they were relatively quiet, and getting along nicely, and I wasn't really paying attention.

Which is probably why this happened:

That's Julia (she chose her own clothes that day.  She has her father's sense of style.)...and that's her co-conspirator, "Jakey."  And those are what's left of the donuts.

They were tasting them.  Perhaps discussing the subtle nuances of flavor...the quality of the chocolate...texture and crumb.  Not really sure.

But they both were pretty amused by the whole thing...and their faces were pretty well smeared with chocolate, too.

And here's what was left:

I especially like how they licked away most of the choclate frosting. 

Cakes - Chocolate Heart With Flowers - 1997 (Eek!)

 

Yeah.  It's not that pretty.  To be fair to myself, that red wrapping I used on the base is what throws off the color balance in the photo.  But still.  It's a rather ugly display.

It's chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, a 6" heart sitting on a 15" heart...decorated with rambling greenery and frightful flowers in "aster mauve" and light blue.

It was for my bosses's wife's birthday.  I know, really.  It's amazing I lasted another day.

I've got a few cakes like this - ones that I just cringed the whole time I was making them because I didn't really have any sort of theme or story to work with.  I think I was just asked to do something chocolate.  Maybe the heart shape too.  I don't know.

Anyway.  Let us close the door on this frightful chapter.  Thank you.

Timing is Everything

Earlier today I put up a post to let readers know I was going to take a little vacation of sorts from posting - it's a busy week here and I needed to set something aside, and this seemed the logical choice.

And then...because I am a masochist...I was just checking my stats, and I saw a whole bunch of people coming over from Typepad's "Featured Blog" section. 

Oh cool!  They're coming from here!

You know how some days you go along, kind of kicking the gravel as you walk along, not quite sure what you're even doing on that road?

Okay, a bit too philosophical.  Sorry.  I knew I'd been chosen as one of Typepad's Featured Blogs - I just had no idea when they'd post about it.  And so naturally, since I chose today to say "I need a break" - that's when they put up that post.

(I must say, though, I am not sure where they got the idea I have videos on here.  I don't.  Sorry.)

But there's a lot of food, and food talk, and recipes, and pictures - interspersed with talk and photos from the rest of my life, too. 

So, to those of you who have bounced over from that Typepad article - Welcome!

TWD: Not This Week - Sorry!

Sorry, I didn't make the Peanut Butter Torte - this week's Tuesdays With Dorie challenge.  I have too much else on my plate right now and just couldn't squeeze it in. 

But go check out all the other members (listed on the TWD site) and take a look at all of their mouth-watering renditions!

See you next time!

May Breakfast

Yesterday morning my Dad's Rotary Club held their annual May Breakfast.  We went down, and saw my father there, resplendant in his bright red apron, while we stood in line.  My mother and my sister and her son arrived a little later.

While we were there, I snapped few pictures, and this one just cracks me up.  So I figured I'd share.  Alex clearly enjoyed his breakfast.  Especially the blueberry pie.

Blinks

Bill put a few large crickets in the lizard tank and Julia stood nearby - not too close - to watch the lizard stalk his prey.

He finally scurried down from his leafy perch and got one, then scrambled back up to gulp the thing down.  It was a big cricket, so it took a little work.

Julia came rushing over (to where I was sitting, six feet away) to tell me all about it.

"The lizard caught a...a girl cricket!

"A girl cricket?  How do you know it's a girl cricket?" 

She thought a moment.  "Because she's got...blinks." 

"Blinks?"

"Yeah, just like I got blinks," she put her fingers near her eyes, "and you've got..." she peered closer, looking in through my glasses, "...wait a minute...you only got little blinks," she said, with pity, and went back to watch the lizard devour his meal.

Bill looked at me.  "Blinks?"

"Eyelashes."

"Oh."

Margarita Ice Cream with Picante y Dulce Almond Brittle

I suddenly realized the other day that Cinco de Mayo was fast approaching and, good heavens, I haven't posted anything relevant.  Not that too many people will care...but I had a couple of big theme months recently, food-wise, what with all the Valentine's Day dinners and desserts in February and then the whole corned beef project in March.  April...well, April just kind of flew past me.  So I think I felt I needed to pay more attention to the holidays again.  And because of all that, I came up with these two recipes.  Hope you try them, and hope you like them!

My ice cream recipe is adapted from the Lemon Ice Cream recipe from Masaharu Morimoto's cookbook Morimoto.

Ingredients:

2 large egg yolks

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup milk

1/2 cup heavy cream

zest of half a lime

3 T tequila  - plus enough lime juice and orange or lemon juice (or a blend) to make a quarter cup of liquid or so.

* Our house ratio for a martarita is 3 parts tequila, 1 part triple sec or Grand Marnier, and 1 part lime juice, so I tried to keep close to that.  There was more "other" citrus juice in this than lime, simply because I had a blend of freshly squeezed citrus juices on hand (long story) and only half of a tiny lime in the fridge.  That's why I used the zest of the lime - for the flavor.

Anyway.

In a heatproof medium bowl, beat the egg yolks lightly.  Gradually whisk in the sugar and beat until the mixture is thick and pale, about 2 minutes.  (I actually had to add another yolk - maybe my first two were on the runty side.)

In a small saucepan, heat the milk until bubbles appear around the rim of the pan.  Gradually whisk about 1/3 cup of the hot milk into the yolks to warm them. 

Slowly whisk the yolks back into the remaining milk in the pan.

Reduce the heat to low and cook,

stirring,

until the custard is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. 

Strain into a clean bowl (I didn't strain - I decided to keep the zest in the ice cream), set over a larger bowl of ice and water and stir until cooled.

Whisk in the heavy cream and yuzu (or lemon) juice.  (And while I was making this and taking pictures (and probably distracted by something...like a small child...or two) I combined the cream with the milk earlier in the process, so I only added in the tequila/juice combination at this point.)

Cover and refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours, until chilled.

Pour into the canister of an ice cream machine and process according to the manufacturer's instructions.  Transfer to a covered container and freeze for at least 3 hours, or overnight, until firm enough to scoop.

While the ice cream was in the freezer, I made the Picante y Dulce Almond Brittle.

Once the brittle was ready, and broken into pieces, I assembled the dessert.

When I started thinking about this concoction, I knew I could probably do the Margarita ice cream without too much trouble.  But I knew it would need something else.

Something...maybe crunchy like chips and salsa...but spicy, too, to balance out the cold tang of the ice cream.  I started thinking about Mexican flavors that might work in a dessert, and this brittle is what I came up with.  In some ways, my choice was influenced by what I already had in the pantry or the freezer.  I thought of making some sort of cookie, too, and maybe I'll try that next time, but somehow the thought of a nut brittle of some kind appealed most to me. 

I figured I could do a lot with the ingredients...and the broken shards of candy stuck in the ice cream looked good in my mind. 

So I thought I'd see how they looked for real. 

And that's how this dessert came about.

And how did it taste? 

Pretty yummy, actually. 

I could taste the smoky tequila flavor along with the citrus in the ice cream, but I think maybe next time I'd zest a whole lime instead of a half.  (I'll also, hopefully, be planning ahead then, too.)  I'd had some initial concerns about the tequila preventing the ice cream from freezing properly, but the day after I made it, the ice cream was solid as a rock. 

The brittle was best when taken from the center of the pan.  Around the edges it was thinner and had fewer nuts and just wasn't as texturaly (is that a word?) satisfying.  The red pepper flakes added an unexpected (to everyone but me) flash of heat at the back of the throat - which was just what I hoped for.  What better way to cool that heat than with the accompanying ice cream?

So overall I'm pretty happy with my little experiments.

And then this morning - I was trying to figure out what to call the ice cream, and I thought "Margarita con Leche!"  Margarita with Milk, right?  That's kind of what it was.  And then, just to make sure I had the meaning of "con Leche" right (I second guess myself all the time) I typed "Margarita con Leche" into Babel Fish and selected the Spanish to English translation.  And I learned that it translates to "Daisy with Milk" - so maybe that's what I'll call it, eventually.  And just confuse the heck out of everyone.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, everyone!  Enjoy some "Daisy with Milk!"

Picante y Dulce Almond Brittle

I wanted to make something crunchy to accompany my Margarita Ice Cream.  I wanted it to be sweet, but to have flavors influenced by what I know (not a lot) about Mexican cooking, and I wanted it spicy-hot to play against the cold and tangy ice cream. 

I used Gale Gand's Sesame Brittle recipe in her book Just a Bite as a launching pad, and then tinkered with it a bit. 

This recipe is what I came up with:

Ingredients:

3/8 cup toasted sliced almonds

1 cup sugar

1/8 tsp cream of tartar

1/2 cup light corn syrup

1 T unsalted butter

1/2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes

1 tsp Tabasco Chipotle sauce

and 1/4 cup water (not in photo)

2 oz unsweetened chocolate

1 oz semi sweet chocolate (not in the photo - I decided to add that once I'd started)

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

You'll also need a candy thermometer and a metal baking pan with sides.  I used a 12" round when I was shooting these pictures, but I'd use something smaller next time - 10" or even 8" - because in the larger pan, the edges didn't have a lot of "stuff" in them - the nuts in particular - and tasted kind of blah. 

Now, to make the brittle...

Grease the pan generously with vegetable oil and set aside.

Toast the sliced almonds (if you haven't already done so) and set aside.

Combine the sugar, cream of tartar and corn syrup with the water in a medium-sized sauce pan.  Bring to a boil over medium heat. 

After it boils, stir the mixture occasionally. 

Cook the mixture until it reaches 350 degrees F. 

The color should be deep golden brown. 

(It's getting there...)

When the sugar syrup is ready, remove from the heat and stir in the butter until melted,

then stir in the chipotle sauce, the almonds, and the red pepper flakes. 

Pour the mixture onto the oiled pan and spread it out a bit with the back of a wooden spoon, to about 1/4 inch thickness.

   

Let the brittle harden, uncovered, in a cool place, 30 to 45 minutes. 

While the brittle is hardening, melt the chocolate in the microwave and stir until smooth.  Stir in the cinnamon. 

Drizzle the chocolate over the brittle and allow to harden. 

The chocolate will take longer to harden than the brittle did.  Don't be tempted to put the whole thing in the fridge - it will hurry the chocolate along, but the moisture in the fridge will soften the brittle.

Once the chocolate has hardened, pop the brittle out of the pan and break it into pieces.

Use brittle, if you wish, to garnish a bowl (or Margarita glass) of Margarita Ice Cream.

   

Store in an airtight container for up to 1 week, or 3 days if the weather is very humid.

Red Miso Souffle with Lemon Ice Cream

I've had a copy of Morimoto: The New Art of Japanese Cuisine for, oh, months now.  It's another beautiful book put out by DK (Dorling Kindersley) Publishing and written, of course, by Masaharu Morimoto, of both the original Iron Chef series and the American version.  And, more importantly, chef and restauranteur and rock star of the Sushi world. 

Bill and I were both delighted (okay, Bill would balk at that adjective, I'm sure) when the book came out.  As you already know, if you have read this blog for a while, that we both love sushi and Japanese cooking and all sorts of other cuisines from Asia and, heck, everywhere.  And we've watched both Iron Chef incarnations for years.  My favorite Iron Chef, by the way, from the original series, was "Iron Chef France" - Hiroyuki Sakai.  "The Delacroix of French Cuisine."  But I digress.

Anyway, I've been wanting to make something from this book for a while - alternatively, I've wanted Bill to make something so I could take the pictures and do the write-up.  But for some reason, it just didn't happen.  And then, a few weeks ago, just out of curiosity, I took a look at the items in the dessert section of his book.  And there I saw a recipe for Red Miso Souffle.  Hm.  I've been wanting to do some sort of souffle for a while, too.  And red miso?  Wonder how that would taste in there.

"Red miso makes a souffle that is buttery yet has a unique kick.  This is especially delicious served with softened Yuzu Ice Cream as a sauce." writes Morimoto.

Yuzu ice cream?  Hm.  We have an ice cream maker.  Somewhere.  In the basement, I think.  I flipped a few pages and found that recipe.  I could make that, easy.

Okay!  I'll make the souffle and the ice cream, just like Morimoto recommends!

I made the ice cream the day before, so it would have time to set up. 

And then I made the souffle. 

Ingredients:

2 tsp unsalted butter

1/2 cup red miso

1  1/4 cups sugar

6 whole eggs, separated

6 egg whites

To make the souffle:

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.  Butter 4  8-oz ramekins or individual souffle dishes.  (I had 8 small ramekins and a large souffle dish and still had leftover batter for some reason.)

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the red miso, 1/4 cup of the sugar, and the 6 egg yolks.  Blend well.

In another large mixing bowl, beat the 12 egg whites until frothy.  Gradually add the remaining 1 cup of sugar while continuing to beat until soft peaks form.  Fold the beaten whites into the red miso base. 

 

Divide among the ramekins. 

Level off the tops with a spatula.

Bake for 8-10 minutes, until puffed and just set.

   

Serve immediately.

And to serve a souffle, what you're supposed to do (I think I saw Julia Child do this on The French Chef years and years and years ago) is to take two spoons and, holding them back to back, sort of, insert them into the center of the souffle and gently pull the souffle apart.

At this point, I dropped in a scoop of the lemon ice cream, and snapped a picture while it still looked pretty.

That's the thing about souffles, by the way.  When Morimoto wrote "serve immediately," he meant IMMEDIATELY.  Because in very short time, souffles collapse.  And they're just not as pretty any more, and the texture becomes kind of gummy.

And how did it taste, you may be wondering.  I'll do my best.  The red miso gives the souffle a slightly earthy taste, and reminded me of the way the mash smells when Bill is making beer.  Basically, it's a sweet, cooked grain.  Kind of like something you'd have for breakfast in winter.  Hearty with a touch of sweetness.  But not too sweet. 

Texture-wise, the souffle is smooth and light and warm and soft. 

I liked the souffle best in combination with the ice cream.  The cold tartness of the lemon ice cream was a perfect balance against the warm, darker flavored souffle.  The contrast of hot and cold in the mouth was interesting and enjoyable, too.

Would I make the souffle again?  I don't know.  Bill didn't love it, and I wouldn't want to eat a whole vat of it.  But - with the lemon ice cream - the red miso souffle woke up my taste buds and made them take notice.  So maybe for a party, with people would like to try something new.

 

And, as I tell my kids, it's always good to try new things.

Lemon Ice Cream

(Adapted from the "Yuzu Ice Cream" recipe in Morimoto.)

"This ice cream is subtly flavored with yuzu, a citrus fruit favored by not only Japanese chefs, but by chefs everywhere who get to sample its inimitable taste.  The juice can be had from the fresh fruit or is sold jarred or frozen in Asian specialty stores.  When yuzu is not available, though, fresh lemon juice can be substituted."

Ingredients:

2 large egg yolks

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup milk

1/2 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup yuzu juice (or fresh lemon juice)

In a heatproof medium bowl, beat the egg yolks lightly.  Gradually whisk in the sugar and beat until the mixture is thick and pale, about 2 minutes.

In a small saucepan, heat the milk until bubbles appear around the rim of the pan.  Gradually whisk about 1/3 cup of the hot milk into the yolks to warm them.  Slowly whisk the yolks back into the remaining milk in the pan.

Reduce the heat to low and cook, stirring, until the custard is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.  Strain into a clean bowl, set over a larger bowl of ice and water and stir until cooled.

Whisk in the heavy cream

and yuzu (or lemon) juice. 

Cover and refrigerate for 1 to 2 hours, until chilled.

Pour into the canister of an ice cream machine and process according to the manufacturer's instructions.  Transfer to a covered container and freeze for at least 3 hours, or overnight, until firm enough to scoop.

Yep. It's Strep.

I just knew.  There was that notice that came home from kindergarten in his backpack - the generic "a child in your child's class has tested positive for strep" form to give all the other parents a head's up.  That was earlier in the week. 

But there could have been other causes for the sore throat - at least I thought so initially. 

First of all, there's this:  Peppa Pig.  Just watch - or, rather LISTEN to - the beginning part of one of the little "Peppa Pig" videos.  Where she introduces herself and her family.  Hear the British accent?  My son can do this whole bit perfectly.  And has been doing so.  All the time.  Complete with loud piggy snorts.

And it makes me laugh every time.  Not only is it hysterical to hear an English accent piped out in my American son's little voice, but there's also the snorting.  Done with great gusto.  And not just any old piggy snorting, either.  No.  If you listen to the little video clip there, you'll note that Peppa pig has one small snort.  Her little brother George - two quick little snorts.  Her Mummy pig - a louder, grown-up piggy snort.  And Daddy Pig?  For Daddy Pig's great loud piggy snort, Alex has to take a great gulp of air first and then he releases a loud Daddy Pig snort with every ounce of energy in his skinny little body.  He actually goes up on tiptoe and clenches his fists and trembles a bit with the effort.  It's quite a show. 

Anyway, he'd been doing that over and over and over lately - so much so that he'd sometimes have these little coughing episodes after the Daddy Pig blast.  I kept telling him not to do it so much (while giggling, so I admit, I wasn't all that effective) because he'd get a sore throat.  But sore throat was so hypothetical as to be just one of mommy's caffeine-induced halucinations (much like her dreams of typing for five minutes without one or the other kid hollering about what the other one just did...dream on) that he just ignored me and kept on with the Peppa Pig rehearals.

So there was that.

And then, let's see...Wednesday night.  I put them to bed, read them a couple of stories, but Julia, as usual, just wasn't ready to lie down quietly and go to sleep.  I warned her.  And left.  Went downstairs and was making a late dinner/snack for Bill and myself, and then suddenly I could hear it.  The Crying.  Sigh.  I aimed myself at the stairs and flew up to the second floor and hooked a right, toward the kids' room.  Julia was in her bed, crying.  Alex was in his bed, looking worried.  I asked what had happened. 

"Alex bit me on the hand!" Julia wailed.

"Well she was messing with my bed!" Alex countered.

"You BIT her?"  I looked at Alex's little face, peeking out from beneath his blankets.  He cowered a bit.  Julia stopped crying.  It was clear that messing with Alex's bed was the lesser crime and she was probably safe from THE WRATH.

I was just plain tired and fed up with all the (very typical) sibling squabbles of the day, and I just pulled the blankets down a bit and snapped "DON'T!  BITE!" at Alex and then flipped the blankets back up.  And left the room.

And before I got to the stairs, the real crying began.

If it had been Julia doing the biting (which used to be the case), she would have said "yeah, whatever," snapped her gum a few times and swilled some apple juice from her pink leather flask.  She tolerates me because I'm tall enough to cook scrambled eggs for her.  Once she can see the top of the stove, we're done.

Alex, on the other hand, is very sensitive.  So even though he's perfectly capable of doing horrible big brother things to his annoying little sister (who, to be fair, often deserves what she gets), he feels enormous remorse afterward.  Even when we don't get all that mad at him.  He just takes it upon himself to feel terrible, beat himself up ("I'm just not a very good big brother!" he will wail), and basically condemn himself to one of Dante's 9 circles of Hell.  The one for not very good big brothers, whichever that one was.  I don't remember.

So he cried.  Loud, aching, unrelenting sobs of anguish.  For a long time.  With no sign of stopping.  Ever.  Until the end of time. 

And I was (still) trying to put together dinner (I tried making Coconut Shrimp, and it didn't come out the way I'd hoped, but that had nothing to do with Alex) and so right before I started frying up the coconut-battered shrimp, I went upstairs to check on Alex. 

He was still crying.  Sobbing.  Loudly.  From the gut.

Julia was snoring.

So I hugged him and tried to get him to calm down and breathe deeply and stop crying.  His face was bright red, his eyes were bloodshot, and there were slime trails running from his nostrils and the corners of his gaping mouth.  It took some time, but I finally got him to relax and breathe and stop the crying.  And we talked about how even when your little sister is very, very annoying, you still can't bite her.  But even though he did bite her, it didn't make him a bad big brother.  It's normal to get angry because of things your baby sister does.  Just like it's normal for her to sometimes get upset about things her older brother does.  That's just part of being brother and sister.  And it's not okay to hurt each other...but it's understandable, sometimes, to want to.   And then I tickled him a bunch of times to make him laugh and snap him out of the last of his self-flagellation phase so he could finally fall asleep.  And so Bill and I could have our dinner.

The next morning, Alex woke up with a sore throat.  I assumed, then, that it was because of all the crying he did the night before, so I figured it would sort itself out over the course of the day.

But it didn't.  He still had a sore throat after kindergarten...still had it later in the day.  I tried looking in his throat, but he wasn't all that cooperative.

Next morning, Friday, I kept him home from school because it wasn't any better and he was wincing every time he swallowed.  And even though he hadn't had a fever, I made an appointment with the doctor to have THE DREADED STREP TEST.  But I didn't tell him that part.  Because of the last time. 

Well, we went.  And the nurse took his temperature and took a peek in his throat...and then she gave him the bad news.  "I'm just going to tap the back of your throat..." Alex's face squinched up and he pressed his lips together resolutely.  He wasn't buying it.

And the nurse tried.  She really did.  But reasoning won't work on a five-almost-six-year-old veteran of the throat culture.  Once swabbed, twice stubborn.  I could tell she was getting frustrated.  "We could have been done by now" she pointed out, a bit of strain in her voice.  So we had no choice but to put Alex in my lap.  He's pretty tall.  I turned my head away so that when he jerked back reflexively he wouldn't break my nose.  I crossed my arms around his body and pinned his arms to his sides.  And the nurse approached with the second or third sterile double-q-tip stick...and it was no use.  He would not open up.  The nurse tossed the wasted swab in the trash and said the doctor would have to do it. 

And there were the two warring parts of me.  There was the part of me that knew exactly how he felt.  If I wasn't an adult (at least in theory), I'd clamp my mouth shut at the approach of a giant double swab, too.  But I can't really get away with that sort of behavior any more.  But once upon a time...when I was probably his age...the chair I sat in was big and red and high-backed and either leather or vinyl.  But it was red.  And my doctor - our family doctor - the doctor who had delivered both me and my sister - a kindly older gentleman with a Gregory Peck voice (as I remember it) - just wanted to look in my throat.  Not even a throat culture - he just wanted to look.  With a tongue depressor.  From the glass jar of tongue depressors on the little table opposite me.  Along with a glass jar of cotton balls.  And I don't remember what else.  He was tall, and I was very small in that big red chair.  And I did NOT want that yucky dry wooden stick pressing on the back of my tongue and making my stomach clench and my throat tighten in that awful gagging feeling, like I might throw up.  No way.  And so I didn't cooperate.  And no amount of sweet talk or logic could change my mind.  And so eventually my mother and the nurse had to hold me still so Doctor Gregory Peck could shine his little tiny flashlight on my squirming throat and see that it was fine and normal and pink.

So here we are, thirty-some years later, and it's history repeating itself.  So I really sympathised with Alex during all this.

And at the same time, I just wanted to get this DONE so we could know for sure that yes, it's strep, and get our prescription for whatever antibiotic the doctor would put him on, get some apple juice and go home.  Just suck it up and do it!!!  That's what the other part of me was feeling.  I'm not proud of it, but I just knew that if he didn't open up and let someone swab him, it would turn ugly.

The doctor came in slow and friendly and just wanting to talk.  She was casual.  "So, what are you here for?" Feigning ignorance.  "Does your...leg hurt?"  With a slightly exaggerated look of puzzled concern on her face.  And so she went on like that for a bit, soothing and hypnotic.  Not even the least bit interested in his throat at all.  No sirree, Bob.  Not one bit.  And then she asked, hands behind her back, if she could just peek in his mouth for a second.  Just look.  So he opened up, and she could clearly see what I had seen and what the nurse had seen.  It was red.  And yucky.  And most likely it was strep.  But.  She still needed to do the test.  So she started laying the trap. 

"You know, I've got two boys and a girl, and they don't like having it done, either." she said, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.  (I love all the doctors in this office.  They are all so patient and caring and understanding and wonderful.  By the way.)  "So," she continued, "when they have to have it done, they lie down on here,"  she tapped the exam table he was kneeling on, poised for flight, "and it's just a quick tap and it's over with.  That's how they do it and it's much easier."  And I'm nodding along with her, encouragingly, understanding that this way they have no where to back up.  Hmmm...maybe. 

We got Alex to lie down...and the doctor had me hold his hands down alongside his hips, and she took the point position near his face.  Tongue depressor in her left hand, swab in her right.  Still purring that it would be just a tap - and then all done with.

"But it'll still make me frow up" Alex said.  He's no dummy.

"Well, no, it'll just make you cough a bit - ek ek - but that's it" she told him.  (Okay, I know "ek ek" looks funny but how would YOU write it?)

"Ready?" she said.  "On three.  One.  Two.  THREE!"  And he didn't open his mough.  Of course. 

She tried again.  "Okay, this time we'll do it and then it will be OVER with.  One.......twoooooooo.....THREE!"  Nope.

Well, there's no way to cut this long story short, but I'll cut to the end of this portion of it.  I don't remember how many tries it took - maybe four - but finally at one point he opened the right corner of his mouth about an eighth of an inch, and the doctor was in like a flash - tongue depressor and giant q-tips, working blind because he wouldn't open his mouth any further than that, and also he was squirming away and the only reason this worked at all was because he was smashed into the corner where the exam table met the wall, and he had nowhere left to go.  I hung onto his arms, and the doctor and I were sort of laying on his tiny squirming little torso, and I felt, once again, like a human manacle.  And like crying.  I'm so sorry for helping to pin you down, my baby boy.  Motherhood is not for the faint of heart.

Anyway.  Success at last.  The doctor pulled the double swab and tongue depressor from Alex's mouth - and she and I both stared at them in silence for a moment.  They were all bloody.  Oh great.  She's poked a hole in his trachea and now he's going to drown in his own blood.  Just great.  But of course, no.  She just said "I think he's sick," and left to have the swab checked for strep.  I figured since she wasn't freaking out about the blood then neither should I.  So I remained calm (so Alex wouldn't freak out any more than he already was) and I grabbed some tissues and caught the red drool as it dribbled from his quivering lower lip.  He cried and cried and finally slowed down enough to voice his real concern:  "I'm really not gonna get to pick a lollipop now!"

Because he thought he hadn't been a good boy.  A brave boy.  Someone older than five-going-on-six.  He had done what he considered, in retrospect, the cowardly thing of trying to avoid the people with the long sticks who were hell bent on jabbing these sticks at the back of his throat.  He fought with all his might to get away, and it took two adults to beat him. 

The doctor was back very soon.  "The test showed positive for strep in twenty seconds" she said.  She knew just looking, and so did I, but now we had the official scientific proof.  She wrote out a prescription and told me if Julia showed signs of having it, just to call and they'd call in the prescription for me.  No need to go through another round of this. 

And I asked her if Alex could have a lollipop.  And she said "Of course!"  And he asked, in his little shaky voice "Can I get a lollipop for my sister, too?"  And yes, of course you can, she said.

Alex was pretty well worn out after that.  He didn't want to go to the store.  He didn't want to pick out juice.  He didn't want to pick out something yummy for dinner.

He just wanted to go home.