My Bit of Earth

The Kitchen Reader: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

This month's Kitchen Reader book--chosen by Karen of Shortbread South--is Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. 

The plot was not terribly new for me at this point--urban family moves the the country and eats local for a year--but I liked this book the most of any I've read in this genre, because the author is very practical about it.  

A lot of the time authors turn eating locally into an endurance contest.  (In Plenty, for example, the authors picked mouse poop out of their locally sourced wheat so they could make bread--ewww!)  In much the way I admire people who run marathons, but would never actually want to run a marathon myself; I admire that sort of dedication to eating locally, but it's not for me.

Throughout this book, Kingsolver's family eats locally where they can, takes the time to consider whether they really need things that can't be gotten locally, and then buys sustainably where they must.  This strikes me as being much more realistic for the average person.

But the most fascinating part of this book is the turkeys!

According to Kingsolver, almost all modern, domesticated turkeys are hatched in incubators.  Like chickens, they're raised until a given point where (meat) weight vs. food consumption makes economic sense, and then they're slaughtered--usually before they're even a year old.  

In one chapter of the book, Kingsolver decides to see if she can make her domestic turkeys self-perpetuating--in other words, could her turkeys hatch and raise their own young?  While the underlying concerns are serious (we've screwed with Mother Nature so much that these birds can't even reproduce without human interference), the story of how one turkey eventually figures it all out is hilarious.

All in all, a very good read!

Kitchen Afternoons

Pick an afternoon in our kitchen these days and you'll probably see a lot of this.

Basil being rinsed and made into pesto.

Tomatoes being roasted and frozen for sauce and soups.

And just about every other form of vegetation being pickled--thus far, cucumbers, peppers, and okra.

I'm still not getting quite as many of our own tomatoes as I'd like, but they're slowly coming around.  And, to the credit of our every-few-days squash bug torture sessions (I hop up and down on them until they're dead, Sweet Husband cuts them in half with garden shears), there is one little pumpkin getting started in our pumpkin patch.  Hopefully brothers and sisters will follow.

The Kitchen Reader: In Defense of Food

This month's Kitchen Reader book--chosen by Margaret of Tea and Scones--was In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto by Michael Pollan.  

I can't quite say this book was life changing for me--because the first time I read it I was already starting to generally eat more whole, local food--but it did give me a manifesto: Eat food.  Not too much.  Mostly plants.

There's a bit more to it than that, but not much.  Mainly it's about knowing the difference between "food" and "food-like substances".  

To give you an idea, probably my very favorite of his "tells" is "Don't eat anything that won't eventually rot."  It just seems like good sense, ya know?

Sweet Husband and I have gotten to where we even make a game of it sometimes.  As in,

      "Those Fruit Loops are so NOT food."

    "Oh yeah, well neither are your Mike'n'Ikes!"

But all kidding aside, the book makes a very good case for eating real food, and it does so in a way that's not more judgmental than it has to be.  For example, although Mr. Pollan frowns on high fructose corn syrup and the like, he's very realistic about it.  I get the idea that even he has a handful of Mike'n'Ikes every now and then--just not every day.

In short, if I could recommend only one book to everyone from atop my "food issues" soapbox, this would unquestionably be it.  You can see the rest of Mr. Pollan's "food rules" summarized here, but, really, just go read the book.

A Simple Pickling Rig

I ended up getting cucumber seeds this year from Mrs. Pendleton's personal stash.  I'm starting to suspect they were magic seeds, as they're producing like crazy.  And while a sliced cuc with cheese is a wonderful, cool snack, at some point a girl's just gotta start making pickles. 

In addition to the processed pickle recipe that I used last year, I'm experimenting with fermented pickles as well.  It takes less prep time and the results are supposed to be more crunchy.  

After trying an internet fermented pepper recipe that failed (it was an exercise in how many colors of mold can be grown in one jar), I decided to go buy a book in hopes that the recipes would be better tested.  On glowing recommendation from Marisa, I went with Put 'em Up!, which has been everything I hoped it would be.

In short, these pickles are soaking in a brine full of salt and other yummy spices.  The brine is just salty enough to kill any nasties, while still allowing lactic acid (which is naturally present on the pickles) to grow.  The lactic acid preserves the pickles and gives them their flavor.  The pint glass sitting on top, keeps the pickles fully submerged in the brine while they're "cooking".  And those little bubbles at the top of my jar?  That means the pickles are fermenting just as they should.

I also made another batch of pickled wax peppers from a recipe in the book, but I went with canned this time.  One moldy batch of peppers was enough for me for one week!

Can We Chat About This Strawberry Salad Again?

[Brief digression:  Thanks so much for all the wonderful thoughts yesterday!  It's so nice to feel all the good wishes comin' in from all over--yay!  And now on to some yummy salad!]

A few months ago, I briefly mentioned that we'd served this guy up for a dinner party.  But it really deserves a little more fanfare than that.

It's official name (courtesy of Jamie Oliver) is Strawberry Salad with Speck and Halloumi.  We actually haven't been able to find halloumi cheese locally, so we use something called "bread cheese".  (You could really substitute just about any mildly flavored cheese and get the same idea though.)  Also, you must have sweet strawberries.  The ones in this particular salad were about a day from going bad, which made them perfect.  

Other than briefly frying the cheese to give it a crunchy exterior, this is no-heat-throw-it-together-in-five-minutes food.  We often just mix it up together on one big plate, scoot together 'round the table, and tuck into it.

Happy Things of Note

How long does peony season usually last?  I'm not sure, but it seems like it's going on forever this year.

Cherries and grapes and apples and bananas and blueberries and pears and plums...woohoo for fruit!

 

Summer thunderstorms that knock out the power for a whole afternoon.

 

A very grown-up thank you note that arrived in the mail the other day.

  Mulberries that are growing juuust on the other side of our fence.  Thankfully, our neighbors are sweet!

Blueberry cake with yogurt.  It's actually more like a bread, but it's addictive! 

A Pretty Party

Tossed together a wee dinner party this weekend.  Two very old friends, and two very new friends that feel like very old friends. While we can squeeze six in the dining room, it was the first nice day in weeks so I decided to set up outside.  

We have this awkward concrete pad outside our back door that I've been trying to figure out what to do with for a few months now.  As we sat down to dinner, I thought, "Aha!  This is what we do with it--throw as many summer dinner parties as we can!"

It just so happens that I hate to put together "menus", but I love appetizer-y, snack-y foods.  So that's just what we had--a whole dinner full of starters.  I think the winner was this strawberry salad.  I will be making it once a week at least for as long as strawberries are in season.  

Also yummy, these fancified twice baked potatoes, a platter of beef carpaccio, and a beautiful salad that Nice Friend brought and I need to get a recipe for--cherry tomatoes, asparagus, feta, and baby mozzarella, all in the most perfect vinaigrette.

Then, after dinner, a little fire in the fire ring--yes the weed burner was used to start it!--chocolate cake, and much-too-much wine.  Yes, we do need to do that again soon!

Rhubarb, How I'd Love to Love You

Sweet Husband and I have been talking a lot about gifts lately.  As in, everyone has at least one thing that they're amazing at--e.g. "Friend X is an awesome guitar player," or, "It's a little sad that Friend Y is trying to go to law school when it's so clear that his real gift is cooking."

I've decided this line of thought applies to food as well as people.  

Take rhubarb.  It has a gift.  It is an incredibly beautiful food.  It is very good at that.  Asking it to be tasty also...well, maybe that's just asking too much.

(And when I say tasty, I mean tasty without being drenched in sugar.  When I was originally lamenting my rhubarb problem, I got an amazing recipe for strawberry rhubarb pie from a friend.  It was just that--amazing.  But 2 cups of sugar and a pie crust is cheating and not something I can eat on even a weekly basis if I want to keep my girlish figure!)

A few Saturdays ago, I made the above pictured recipe for Rhubarb and Pistachios over Thick Yogurt.  (It's from the book Lucid Food: Cooking for an Eco-Conscious Life.)  It's gorgeous, yes?  The vibrant red rhubarb, contrasted with creamy yogurt and bright green little pistachio crumbles, all atop a steaming bowl of warm grains.  But the rhubarb tasted like the spices it was cooked in and that was all.  No flavor, only magnificent color.

Is it just that my tongue is defective?  Have I just not found the right application yet?  Because I'd really like to love rhubarb, but it's just not cooperating with me.

Anyone have any ideas that don't involve lots of sugar?

Great-Grandma Minnie's Knitting Needles and Cake

Over this past week, my family has been cleaning out my grandma's house.  She's been in assisted living for a bit now, and, for various reasons, decided it was time to start sorting through her worldly goods.

As I suspect would be the case with anyone who's lived in a house for over 50 years, there was way more than any of us could or wanted to take.  But--vintagey nut that I am--I did find a few treasures, and,slowly but surely, I want to take the time to tell the stories of them.

We were all sitting in the basement going through an old trunk full of pictures and souvenirs--many of which seemed to be from my grandpa's Navy days--when someone pulled aside a bit of clothing to reveal these.  I was almost too excited to talk, but eked out, "Oh, can I please, please take these?"

"What are they?"  my dad asked, with a puzzled look.

"They're knitting needles!"

Judging from the rest of the items found in the trunk, we guessed they belonged to Grandpa's mother, Minnie.  From them, I was able to add another few tidbits to my store of knowledge about her.  

First, she wraps her double pointed needles in string from the last project she worked on, just like I do.  Second, she was a good knitter.  The needles are sizes 0 and 2--good for knitting socks and lace, not just chunky beginner scarves.

That's a lot to add, considering that I only knew about three things about Grandma Minnie before.

I knew that her great-grandfather was a tailor for the King of Sweden, and her grandfather worked in the King's gardens.  Her father, David, married her mother, Bengta--who worked in the palace brewery--and they immigrated to the United States in the 1880's.

According to my grandmother, who would have been Minnie's daughter-in-law, she was fairly meek and submissive to my great-grandfather--refusing to spend money on even small household goods without his permission.  But to the extent I remember him talking about her, I got a definite sense that my grandfather, her younger son and the baby of the family, adored her.

One summer--I must have been 10 or 11--my step-mother and I connived to surprise my dad with a picnic dinner.  I decided to make him a cake from a book of family recipes, and settled on one submitted by "Minnie", unaware that she was my great-grandmother.

Somehow, I ended up putting in far too much shortening--I think I must have switched the amount of shortening and the amount of sugar.  The picnic surprise came off perfectly, but then my dad bit into the cake.  

What you have to understand about Nice Dad is, he was wonderful about eating what I cooked with a smile, no matter what.  But this was so bad, even he couldn't fake it.  "Is this a joke?" he sputtered, as he spit the piece of cake out.  I quickly took a bite myself, and--there was no help for it--the cake tasted like a spoonful of straight Crisco.

When we next saw Grandpa, I recounted the story of the "Crisco cake".  It was he who informed me that "Minnie" was my great-grandma.  He said he remembered her making that cake all the time, and smiled fondly as he told me how he used to love it.

Looking at Grandma Minnie's knitting needles the other day, I got to thinking about that cake.  I pulled out the book of family recipes and decided to give it another try.

I immediately realized why--at 10--I had difficulty with it.  It's obvious from reading it that she had it memorized so well that she didn't need basic instructions, like how long to bake it for or at what temperature.  But I took a good guess (350 degrees, start testing at 20 minutes and go until a knife comes out clean), and I can see why it was one of her favorites.  Not too sweet, light but still substantial...my piece didn't even make it long enough to get icing--it was perfect on its own with a big glass o'milk.

I Bought a Cow--Who Wants To Make Cheese With Me?

Last weekend, Sweet Husband and I bought a cow, a herd of cows in fact.  Three of 'em.  Didn't catch all of their names, but the leader of the pack is named "Black Cherry" and she makes the tastiest milk.

OK--don't freak out Mom--we didn't really buy a herd of cows to bring home, we bought a share in the herd.  Why would we do that?  For milk.  Specifically raw milk.

It's a funny legal issue actually, but in many states farmers are not allowed to sell raw milk.  There are some good reasons behind this--you certainly wouldn't want to buy raw milk from just anyone, as cleanliness is obviously a must--however, during the pasteurization process lots of good bugs and vitamins are killed along with any bad ones that might be present.  Essentially, it's a balancing act between health and safety.  There are risks--and you should definitely do your own research before making a decision--but my conclusion has been that if I could find a farmer I felt I could trust to run a clean ship, the benefits of buying raw milk would outweigh the risks.

In Kansas, you can buy raw milk, but only if you either go to the farm that sells it (possibly inconvenient) or own the animal producing it yourself.

Which is why I now own a share in a herd of dairy cows.

 

We bought our share from the lovely Amy of Amy's Meats.  The initial share cost was $30.  We then pay $16 a month room and board for our cows, and get a half-gallon of milk a week--about the going local price for organic milk.  And it is awesome!  I'm not actually a big milk drinker even, but you really can tell the difference.  It's almost as drastic as homegrown summer tomatoes vs. the mealy winter store-bought version.

So now we've got milk.  And with it I'm going to start a new project--some hardcore cheese-making.

I'm thinking of using Home Cheese Making as a guide and doing, I don't know...two cheeses a month?  Anyone interested in joining me to make it a group project?

Easy Cheese

No, not the stuff in a can that you squirt at your significant other, but rather the easiest homemade cheese you can make, with the least possible amount of equipment--labneh.  

I've dabbled in cheese making from time to time.  Divine homemade mozzarella.  A nice little block of farmhouse cheddar.  But I always come back to labneh.

Labneh (pronounced lab-neigh, if you're curious) is a Middle Eastern cheese made of strained yogurt.  It's spreadable--it basically has the consistency of cream cheese--but tangy.

To make it, get yourself to the store and buy a container of plain yogurt.  Just plain, regular yogurt is fine, although buying Greek yogurt (which already is slightly strained) will speed the process up a bit.  

Then, pour your yogurt out onto the center of a clean white dishtowel.  You can use cheesecloth if you want to be fancy, but a dishtowel really works just as well.  Pick up the corners of the towel and tie or otherwise afix them underneath the top shelf in your refrigerator, so that the yogurt is suspended in the towel.  Put a bowl underneath to catch the whey that will soon be dripping out, and in anywhere from 24-36 hours, you'll have labneh.  (P.S. For a picture of exactly how to hang the cheese, see picture #9 here.)

But the fun doesn't stop there.  While it's very good plain or with just a little salt, I almost always have to add a little somethin' somethin' to my labneh to really put it over the top.  In its latest incarnation, I mixed in a tablespoon of honey for a slightly sweeter cheese that's perfect with one of Sweet Husband's biscuits.  Just about any chopped, fresh herb you want to toss in is also delicious, as is garlic.  Just mash up the cheese a bit, add your topping, and then reform it into a pretty little ball.

And throw that canned stuff out!  I know the bottle is fun to squirt, but it really is a scary color!

I Believe This Might Be Soul Food

Not having grown up a southern girl, and being a person who has (snobbishly, foolishly) disdained southern cooking, I don't know if I'm qualified to judge.  But I think this might be soul food.

How can I tell with my limited experience, you ask?  Well, because it warms my soul.

The bottom layer is polenta (OK, grits).  I use Heather's  ratio of 6 1/2 cups water to 1 2/3 cups polenta, and cook it over medium heat--stirring constantly--until a wooden spoon will stand up in it.  About halfway through, I toss in whatever herbs I have on hand.  You can't go wrong with the Scarborough Fair combo--parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.  A handful of Parmesan cheese tossed in at the end will not be amiss, either.  (Oh, and if there is leftover, pour it into a loaf pan and refrigerate.  It will solidify, and you can then cut it into slices to broil or fry the next day.)

The green stuff is kale.  (Although sometimes when they're available I do use actual collard greens.)  I've been on a huge kale kick this winter.  It goes with everything, and I never seem to get bored with it, even though I always end up cooking it the same way--wilted and braised with onions and garlic. 

And then, a poached or fried egg to top everything off and add a smidge of protein.

I think this is winter's answer to July tomatoes.  Soul food, indeed!

Bread Like No Other

In addition to bad-ass breakfasts, Sweet Husband has also been learning to make bread.  

At first I was a little skeptical.  We have two fabulous bakeries in Lawrence that aren't overly expensive, and I really didn't believe we could get comparable results at home.  But I kept quiet, largely because Sweet Husband was obviously having so much fun, and I've quickly been converted.

Although he says he's still playing with it all a bit, I'm convinced he's found our keeper--the crunchiest-crackliest-chewiest-lightest-easiest bread you'll ever bake.  (And a big, huge, bear hug to Ms. Kathy Flake for passing the recipe on!)

The great thing about this recipe is that the dough can stay in the fridge for up to a week, actually gets better with age, and it makes about three small loaves of bread.  That means Sweet Husband can mix up a batch of dough over the weekend, and easily break off a hunk to bake as needed through the week.  The smaller loaves mean the bread gets eaten more quickly and is always fresh and yummy!

Sweet Husband Speaks: Bad-Ass Biscuits and Gravy

Every so often Sweet Husband says, "I should start a breakfast blog."  I always agree wholeheartedly.  The man is one-hundred percent in charge of weekend breakfasts at our house, and is very good at experimenting and perfecting recipes until they're perfect.  (I've resigned myself to being the principal taste-tester...it's a rough job!)  We've even gotten so far as to give this hypothetical blog a name, "The Bad-Ass Breakfast Blog". 

But, alas, Sweet Husband does not necessarily enjoy blogging on a regular schedule, and so the BABB has not been realized.  Meanwhile, yesterday morning--after a particularly nice round of biscuits and gravy--I said, "I'm going to blog about this recipe, it's awesome."

S.H.: "You know, maybe I should get co-author rights on your blog?"

Me: "Um, if you want to be a co-author, you have to write mister."

S.H.: "Well, I could do that...every once in awhile."

Now how could I turn that down?  Especially when he was plying me with gravy?

Without further ado....I give you Sweet Husband!

*****

My favorite type of food is breakfast food, so over the years I've spent time perfecting it. After many attempts at biscuits, I finally stumbled on to this recipe.  My reason for settling on this recipe over others is the quick and simple procedure for mixing in the fat.  Other recipes want you to cut the fat in with your fingers without getting it too hot.  This never seems to work for me--I always end up with big clumps of fat, or over working the mixture to the point that my biscuits don't rise.  This recipe solves that problem by having you melt the butter and pour it into cold buttermilk, stirring to break it up into tiny pieces.  This is freaking genius!

 

So, now I have what I consider to be the perfect biscuits.  But what about toppings?

Yes, there are jams and jellies, but everyone knows that the ultimate biscuit topping is gravy.

Mmmm gravy....Some call it "food of the gods".   Some give it it's own food group.  Whatever you want to call it, it's amazing.  

My gravy is very simple--no real measuring, so these are just estimates.  This weekend it went as follows:

• 1/2 pound of hot Italian sausage
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 heaping tablespoons of flour
• 1 quart of milk
• 1 tablespoon Herbs de Provence
• Salt and pepper

I start by cooking my sausage in a skillet until it's cooked through, and then I break it up into small pieces.  Next, I pour in the olive oil.  (I add extra fat because the sausage I use is very lean.  If you have a lot of grease in the pan skip this step.)  Next, I add a couple of heaping tablespoons of flour into the pan, and stir it all together until all of the oil is absorbed and the sausage is coated in the flour/oil mixture.  At this point the pan should look pretty dry, and you shouldn't see any freestanding oil. 

Let that cook for a minute or two, then pour in the milk.  Keep the pan over medium heat, and stir constantly until the gravy starts to thicken and bubble.  If it doesn't seem thick enough let it cook down a little, and remember that it will thicken as it cools as well.  

Once it's thick enough, you can start adding your seasonings.  I used about a tablespoon of Herbs de Provence and a teaspoon of salt or more.  Measuring is for baking not making gravy! If you're using a milder sausage you might want to put in some pepper too.  

Now break out those fresh biscuits and slather them in some bad-ass gravy!

 

The Kitchen Reader: What We Eat When We Eat Alone

This month's Kitchen Reader book was What We Eat When We Eat Alone: Stories and 100 Recipes.  (If the title sounds familiar, I read a review of this book several months ago, and ended up testing the chocolate mousse recipe--divine, I tell you!)

The book is essentially a couple of foodies asking people "What do you eat when you're alone?  When you don't have to think of anyone else?  When your only limitation is what's in your cupboard?"

Some of the answers are a little bizarre--oyster crackers crumbled in milk?  avocado soft tacos?--but that's what makes the book interesting.  Because often it was stuff that I hadn't thought about before, but, now that I have, sounds really yummy.  (Fried potatoes with yogurt sauce anyone?)  I really want to try at least 90% of the recipes in this book.

And, of course, it got me thinking about what I eat when I eat alone.  

Like many of the people in the book my go-to, just-for-me recipe is both a little indulgent and a little bit utilitarian--i.e. made from ingredients that I almost always have on-hand.

What I like to do is make up a single serving of pasta.  When the pasta is almost done, I brown some butter in a sauce pan, throwing in some herb-y goodness if I've got it.  (Thyme, sage, rosemary...really, just whatever.)  Once the butter is brown, I add a splash of balsamic vinegar.  Then I drain the pasta and toss it in the butter mixture for a few seconds, just to coat it.  For toppings, again, it's just whatever's on hand--Parmesan cheese, capers, olives, a bit of preserved lemon....delicious!

Give me some more ideas, guys--what do you eat when you eat alone?

Ladies and Gentleman, May I have your attention puh-lease!

(Yeah, sorry about that...couldn't help myself....)

This, for those of you who have not grown up in the Eastern European-immigrant-influenced Midwest, is a bierock--a meat and cabbage filled pocket pastry.

Despite the fact that I did actually grow-up in the Eastern European-immigrant-influenced Midwest, I had never tried one until a few weeks ago when we ate lunch with Nice Grandma at The Friendship House.  (If you ever find yourself in Wamego, Kansas, it is--almost literally--the only place to go.)  It was such a tasty little bite that Sweet Husband and I decided to try to make some of our own.

We secured Nice Friend's grandmother's recipe, which was perfect in all respects but two:

1. The filling to dough ratio.  We started with less meat than recommended (about 1 1/2 pounds, instead of 2 pounds), and still had about 3 cups of filing leftover.  Not a big deal, as I think it will mix in well with rice or pasta, but something to consider.
2. The seasoning.  Nice Friend warned us that bierocks are traditionally a bit bland.  We subbed 1/2 a pound of hamburger for apple sausage, added about three fistfuls of dried sage and thyme, and two dried chili peppers.  Although that was enough to make them acceptable, I certainly wouldn't call them overly flavorful either.  Something about the dough is just like kryptonite to the spices. But if you have your bierocks with mustard or--as The Friendship House serves them--with horseradish sauce, all will be well.

The recipe makes about 2 dozen, and you can freeze whatever you can't eat in a few days.  I'm looking forward to the stash of easy to grab lunches!  

Also, although they wouldn't be "traditional", you could really fill these with about anything, as long as it's not too liquid-y or greasy.  Maybe sun-dried tomatoes, mozzarella, and spicy sausage for something more Italian?  Lamb and feta to go a little Greek?  Possibilities, possibilities!  Here's the basic recipe:

 

Bierocks

Dough

• 2 pkgs yeast
• 1/2 cup warm water
• 1/2 tsp sugar
• 2 eggs
• 2 1/4 cups milk
• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 5-6 cups flour+

Dissolve the yeast in the water with the 1/2 tsp sugar and let sit until foamy.  Add eggs, milk, salt, sugar, and butter.  Add flour to make a soft, but not sticky dough.  Cover and let rise for 45 min. to 1 hour.  Knead down and let rise again.  Roll dough out to 1/4 inch thick, and cut into 6-inch squares.

Filling

• 2 lbs ground beef (As noted, we used 1lb ground beef and 1/2 lb sausage--and next time I might even up the ratio of sausage)
• 1 medium onion (chopped)
• 3-4 lbs shredded cabbage
• salt, pepper (and whatever other seasonings you want to add--it's really not possible to over-season these)

Cook ground beef with half of onion.  Cook cabbage with the other half of the onion (until it's translucent).  (Our meat was very lean, so there wasn't a lot of fat to drain off, but you'll want the filing to be fairly dry, so if either the cabbage or the beef is liquid-y at all, you'll need to drain it well.)  Add everything together and cook for 5 more minutes.

Assembly

Put enough filling on each square so that you can still pinch the corners together.  (I found 2-3 heaping tablespoons worked well.)  Put the pinched side down on a greased cookie sheet or parchment paper.  (Although not in the original recipe, we brushed the tops with butter to make them nice and brown.)  Bake at 400 degrees for about 15-20 minutes, or until browned.  

Eat a few while they're warm and delicious, then wrap the rest in foil and freeze for later noms!

With Love, From Julia

Awhile back--maybe a year ago--Sweet Husband went on a quest to learn to properly poach eggs.  Through trial and error, he found the best method was to crack the eggs into coffee cups and slowly lower them into simmering vinegar-water.  The coffee cup and the vinegar together take care of one of the biggest problems in poaching eggs--the whites separate into a tentacle-y creature, instead of forming a nice, round pocket.

That has been the established method of egg poaching in our house, until last weekend.  

I was reading Julia's Kitchen Wisdom--which is like the cliff notes version of Mastering the Art--when I came upon a trick Sweet Husband had not discovered in his research.  

Using a push pin, punch a hole in the bottom of the egg's shell.  Then gently boil the egg (with the shell still on) for ten seconds.  Using tongs, pull the eggs from the water, then carefully crack the egg back into the water and poach as normal.  That little ten second dip is just enough to keep the egg in its shape.  (And you can use your coffee cups for coffee!)

My Mama's Deviled Eggs

At Thanksgiving, I finally begged and pleaded enough that Nice Mama showed me how she makes deviled eggs (and stuffing too, but we'll get to that later).  While it is entirely possible that this recipe is fairly standard, they are just the kind of deviled eggs that I love, so it was important to me to get down exactly what she puts into them.  

Of course, I can't make any recipe without doing something to it--even my own mother's apparently--so when experimenting at home I had to add just a teensy squeeze of hot sauce.  (I use the kind with the rooster on the bottle.)  

Mmm...deviled eggy perfection!

My Mama's Deviled Eggs

• 6 hard boiled eggs, peeled
• About 2 heaping Tablespoons mayo
• About 2 squirts of plain yellow mustard
• About 3 Tablespoons dill relish
• 1 squirt of "rooster" hot sauce
• salt and pepper
• paprika or chili powder

Cut the peeled eggs in half and deposit the yolks in a large mixing bowl.  Add about half the mayo and relish, then add the mustard and hot sauce. Mash everything together, and see how it looks.  The goal is to have everything well incorporated, but still a little chunky.  Add more mayo and relish as needed to get the right consistency.  Season with salt and pepper to taste, then scoop the yolk mixture back into the whites.  While it's not mandatory, they'll taste much better if you refrigerate for a few hours before eating.  

It is mandatory, however, that you sprinkle them with paprika and/or chili powder prior to serving--it really does make them so much prettier!

Quite Possibly the Perfect Buche de Noel

I can't let the year slip out without a post about this guy, but I promise this will be my last Christmas-y post.  (Excluding a little Christmas present knitting, but that doesn't count right? Right!)

Through the whole month of December I went back and forth about whether to make a Buche de Noel (that's a Christmas Yule Log cake, in English, but it's so much more fun to say it in French).  Our local bakery makes them, but they're kind of expensive...which is fair because they can be a big pain to make yourself.

'Round about December 22nd though, I found this recipe promising an "easy yule log".  It looked simple enough, so I finally made up my mind to give it a go.

Seriously--easiest buche ever!  It took me less than an hour (excluding cooling time, of course) to put it all together, and it tasted wonderful!  I'm so excited to find a buche that doesn't take four hours and four thousand ingredients--yay, yay, yay!

Have a happy, safe New Year everyone!

*****

Bûche de Noël (Slightly modified from Easy French Food)

• 4 eggs (these have to be at room temperature)
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 cup cake flour (sifted before measuring)
• 2 Tablespoons Grand Marnier or other flavoring

Butter a 10 X 15 inch jelly roll pan. Line with parchment paper and butter that as well. Preheat oven to 400° F.

In a mixer beat the eggs until they are very thick and light colored (this takes about 7 minutes). Continue beating and add the sugar in 1 tablespoon at a time, allowing each spoonful to mix in before continuing with the next. Beat in the vanilla as well.

Stop the mixer and sift 1/2 cup cake flour on top of the batter. Using a spatula, gently stir the flour into the batter. Sift the final 1/2 cup flour on top and then very gently fold this into the batter. You want to stop as soon as all the flour is integrated into the batter. This will give you a lovely, airy cake.

Pour and spread the batter into the prepared pan and bake for just 10 minutes. Do not overbake or the cake will be too stiff to roll without breaking.

Dust a clean dishtowel with powdered sugar.  As soon as you take the cake out of the oven, turn it out onto the towel.  Remove the parchment paper and allow the cake to cool for a couple of minutes. Douse with Grand Marnier or other flavoring.  While it is still warm, roll the cake up from one of its short ends with the dishtowel inside (this way the cake gets used to being rolled and won't tear when you fill it and roll it back up). Allow the cake to cool completely.

Unroll the cake, and spread about 1/2 of the chocolate buttercream (recipe below) evenly on top.  (This recipe really does make enough icing, so don't be scared to use too much!) Carefully roll the cake back up and neatly place on your serving dish.

Optional: To enhance the yule log effect, cut off the ends at an angle and use these to create stubs on the log (they're supposed to look like cut off branches), attaching them with some buttercream.

Frost the outside of the log and, using a fork, trace irregular lines in the frosting to give it a woody effect. Cover the cake carefully with plastic wrap and allow it to "age" in the refrigerator for several hours.

Chocolate Buttercream Frosting

• 1/2 cup soft unsalted butter
• 3 1/4 cups powdered sugar
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1/4 cup buttermilk 
• A little more Grand Marnier or other flavoring

Whip the butter in your mixer until is is light and creamy. Sift together the sugar, cocoa and salt and add this to the butter. Beat until well mixed then add the vanilla, buttermilk, and a splash of whatever flavoring you're using. Beat until very smooth.  You may have to add a little more buttermilk to give it a spreadable consistency. This makes just the right amount of buttercream for the yule log cake recipe above.

The Kitchen Reader: Cookie Recipe Exchange Day!

For this month's Kitchen Reader, instead of reading, we're having an online cookie recipe exchange.

I have been baking up a storm this year--peanut butter balls, truffles, candied orange peels, orange shortbreads--but since I've written about all that before, how about something new?

Upon trying this recipe, Sweet Husband declared it his "perfect candy bar".  I have a feeling it's going to become standard Christmas candy in our house, which is great because it was super easy!

 

Cranberry and Nut Bark (recipe slightly modified from Real Simple)

• 12 ounces of chocolate (I used dark, but semi-sweet or even white chocolate would be good too.)
• 2 1/2 cups mixed nuts (Make sure there are some pistachios in the mix, as they'll make it pretty and green.  In fact, I probably would have used all pistachios if they weren't so spendy.)
• 1/2 cup dried cranberries (Optional, but very pretty as a red-and-green-thing in combo with the pistachios.)

Melt the chocolate in whatever way you see fit.  Real Simple recommends doing it in a double boiler setup, but I just did mine in the microwave.  (Carefully--go thirty seconds at a time and give it a really good stir in between each spin in the microwave.)

Spread the chocolate evenly on a parchment lined baking sheet that's at least 9x13.  While the chocolate is still hot, sprinkle on the nuts and cranberries.  Pat them down gently at the end to ensure good contact.

Put in the fridge until it's all set up--about 30 minutes.  Then break the chocolate into pieces and enjoy!

*******

For more cookie ideas be sure and check out these lovely Kitchen Reader blogs:

Blue Ridge Baker
Cooking for Comfort
Food.Baby by Susan
Jill's Blog
Laws of the Kitchen
Shortbread South
Someone's In The Kitchen
Spike Bakes
Tea and Scones