Me Versus Cake: Round 1

I win!  I WIN!  Round One goes to MEEEEEEE!

Okay, details.

Cake: declared delicious by all.
Cake making process: went off with only one hitch.
Cake assembling process: the same.

So basically, this is how it went down:

I stepped into the ring: my tiny apartment kitchen.  It was a tag team of me and my 10-year old cousin versus the cake, the stove, the oven, and the lack of counter space.  Did I mention the hand-me-down Aldi's stand mixer?  So basically, 5 against 1 and a half. 

We assumed fighting posture in our luchadora ensembles of a zoo souvenir apron and a recently handmade apron.  The cake stared back at us in its many parts.  "Ha ha," it seemed to be laughing villainously, "you can't even fit all my ingredients on the same counter with the mixer!  And you only have a liquid measuring cup.  I laugh in your silly faces!" 

But my cousin and I were not to be defeated so easily.  We measured.  We sifted.  We added in the correct order.  The cake appeared taken aback by our efficiency and accuracy of attack.  We had not seen the last of its fight, though, as it rose defiantly to twice its desired height in the oven, taking on the appearance of a very large cupcake that refused to bake fully only in the very center of the very highest part. 

The cake's perfidy largely went unnoticed, though, while my cousin and I struggled against a new foe who had leaped into the ring in a surprise attack, metal folding chair held high: the homemade frosting.  This opponent, despite his unsubtle approach, led us into a false sense of security by appearing to come together as requested.  However, in a surprise offensive it suddenly became both watery and oily!  My cousin and I retired to the ropes for a rest, and upon mature reflection decided that the only place for such a nasty opponent was the Big Chill.  So into the freezer it went to think about what it had done. 

Now we discovered the cake and its cancerous growth.  Remembering the words of a wise sensei, the proprietress of the Sugar Drop baking supply store, I let both layers have it with a wet towel...draped over the top,while it was still in the pan.  I then gently pummeled the cupcake into cake shape before inverting it on a wire rack to continue cooling.  Now, for the frosting. 

Oh la la!  It had spitefully taken our suggestion that it "cool off a little" literally and had become lumpy but yet still not set.  A little exercise in the Aldi's hand-me-down mixer soon literally whipped it into shape.  Now for the final assembly. 

I sent my cousin into the living room (aka 10 feet away with no walls) so that I could launch my final offensive with complete concentration.  The physical pugilism had by this point subsided and the cake, frosting, and I were locked in more cerebral cat-and-mouse game in which I attempted to torte and fill and frost my layers into a level tier and the cake attempted to slide sideways and resist all efforts to appear like a cohesive unit with an evenly thick layer of frosting. 

In the meantime, my cousin, in her boredom, danced around the living room practicing her "Golem" voice until my patience could take no more and I requested that she do something quiet and still like play solitaire with an actual deck of cards.  Surprisingly, she did.  And the cake came together at last, frosted, filled, layered, torted, beautiful if slightly lopsided.  Here it is.

 

Dear the World

Dear the World:

Thank you for continuing to visit my blog.  I have no idea why you continue to do so.  On a related topic, look forward to my upcoming efforts in wedding cake baking.

Why?

Because, last year, I tried to bake a cake using really good ingredients and it was so bad I had to throw it away without eating it.  At this point I had two choices: accept that I am a really bad baker and journal about my feelings.  OR: form a long-term vendetta against all baked goods by PROVING (to: myself, the bad cake, the world in general) that I am actually a GOOD baker by teaching myself to successfully execute a homemade from scratch and hand-decorated multitier wedding cake.  You can probably guess which one I picked.

At this point, I have no results, but several dozen pages of handwritten notes on technique and form.  Yes, I am an Olympic Athlete of in-your-face, Chariots-of-Fire cake baking.

I will post the results of my efforts on this blog.  It should be hilarious.

Split Pea Cakes

So, what happens when you overcook split peas, try to cook the water out of the result, then get frustrated and put them in a colander lined in cheesecloth?  Split Pea Cakes.  I was intending to do as I have done in the past and cook split peas as a filling, fiber-rich alternative to a rice or pasta base for the vegetable curry I was cooking,  However, I made the fool's error of following the instructions on the package.  The result would have been perfect  if I were making a split pea soup.  But I feel that it is egregious assuming on the behalf of the package to write cooking directions that suit only the most well-known dish made with the product and totally do not suit any other use of the product.  Shame on you, store-brand split peas!  FOR SHAME.  However, I now have a tasty result to pass on: a fine-textured product that can easily be cut into squares immediately after cooking and, when laid gently on top of a dish, add a nice toothsome quality.

 Split Pea Cakes
(completely necessary)
2 C. dried split peas, sorted for rocks and washed
3-4 C. water
1/2 tsp. salt

(for flavor-- substitute whatever you think will compliment your dish)
1/2 onion, chopped
1/4 tsp. mint flakes
1-2 TB. cooking oil

 If you are adding the "flavor" ingredients, heat the oil in the pan first, then sauté the onions until they're soft.  Then add in the mint and frizzle it a bit.  Then, continue as follows: combine all  "necessary" ingredients in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer until the split peas are beginning to break apart-- about 30 minutes.  Line a colander with three layers of cheesecloth.  (This is simpler than it sounds-- just fold up your cheesecloth before laying it in the colander.)  Pour the split peas and cooking liquid into the colander, then fold the hanging edges of the cheesecloth over the top of everything and use it the squeeze and press out as much moisture as you can.  Transfer the cheesecloth, contents and all, onto a work surface, cutting board, or plate.  Unfold the top covering.  Using your bare hands (if it's cool enough, or a tool if it's not), press the split pea paste until it's about 1 inch thick all over.  Cut gently with a knife into 2 inch squares.  The end.  These do not fry well, having the tendency to a) fall apart and b) soak up way too much oil.  When your other dish is ready, lay 2-3 squares on top of each serving. 

Makes 4-6 servings



 

Homemade Yeast Starter / Muffins for a Personal Crisis

Yeast starter has been the project of my kitchen efforts lately.  Mundane, perhaps, but intriguing in possibilities.  Yeast-risen chocolate cake?  Yeast-risen apple muffins?  Tried.  Failed.  But the results were interesting.  The chocolate cake was delivered and eaten up.  I even checked the trash can, which did not contain 12 pieces of chocolate cake with two bites taken out.  The apple muffins were offered to a friend in a personal crisis.  I described then as "Shitty Muffins" because, in my mind, they were.  Also all eaten up.  Either I'm a better cook than I thought I was, or other people's standards are way lower than I thought they would be.

Why yeast starter versus baking powder or baking soda?  Well, it all started when I discovered aluminum-free baking powder.  "Hum," I thought.  "Aluminum is certainly not a good thing to be eaten," so I bought it.  However, aluminum-free baking powder could also be described as "Shitty Baking Powder".  It kind of does the job.  Kind of.  But it also requires all kinds of changes in steps when you're mixing your ingredients to avoid the same effect as if you had not added any baking powder, shitty or not.  And that effect still does sometimes occur.  Baking soda, on the other hand, has more reliable results, but also has its signature taste, which I shall describe as "salty tin cans."  Yes, if you are masterful at measuring things exactly, like Grandmom, you do not run into this problem with your caraway seed scones with the real butter in them.  (Why is it always when I use really good ingredients that things go horribly wrong?)

So, all that being said, I decided to get inventive with yeast.  Here is my recipe, only requires a bought yeast infusion once, at the start, and which rises admirably albeit slowly by today's standards-- according to Julia Child in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" each rising of a bread recipe should take 5 hours, which is about how long this recipe takes.  Quick yeast bread?  No.  Bread dough you can let rise overnight or while you're at work all day, care free?  Yes indeed.

Homemade Yeast Starter

1 package dry yeast of your preference
2 cup water
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar

Mix all together, let sit in a warm place in a loosely-covered container.  (Unless you want your container to burst eventually and spew starter everywhere.  Then, by all means, firmly affix the lid-- the tigher, the better!)  Shake or stir the contents about once every third day.  Use about half of the starter no less frequently than once every 6th day.  Whenever you do use it, use about half of it.  Replenish the remaining volume with half the amount of the ingredients above except, of course, for the packaged yeast.  Then you must do something totally countercultural (at least if you're an American). Leave the yeast starter container uncovered in its warm place for about 12 hours.  Why?  You're collecting free yeast from the environment.  (The first time I explained this, the person I was talking to responded after a pregnant pause with "Did you just say 'collect yeast from the environment' ?")  And get THIS!  The free-range yeast outperform the packaged kind.  So basically, the reason you add the packaged yeast in the first place is to get things going on a good footing by creating the kind of environment that a yeast would like.  Then you basically encourage it to get roommates from the wide world.  And they are the best roommates.  At least when it comes to bread.

Poo Update

I admit that I couldn't resist.  I'm not sure what motivated a whole haircare movement to dub itself the "Low 'Poo Method", because I for one have never referred to my regular hairwashing routine as 'Poo.  No, it's really true.  You won't find me walking down the store aisle wondering aloud, "I wonder where they keep all their 'Poo?"  or thinking, "Geez, that bar was really smokey.  I'd better 'poo my hair before work tomorrow."

All 'Poo aside, I had deeply hesitated attempting any haircare efforts that literally did not involve soap.  If using soap in all its many many wonderful forms means I'm an affiliate of the man, then bring. it. on.  I love soap.  Dish soap.  Dishwasher soap.  Dishwasher soap packets.  Laundry soap.  Organic gardening became more appealing when I learned it could involve Insecticidal Soap.  Take that, non-beneficial insects!  I've got a good cleaning coming your way!

However, I have become increasing dissatisfied with my beloved soap when it comes to hair care.  I tried cheap (older, more tried-true ingredients at times), I've tried fancy (more fancy?), I've tried "all natural" (ingredient list I can, mostly, read).  I've even tried bar soap.  The winner of the soap category?  The bar soap.  My hair had a lot more...shall we say "texture", but it also was clean and my scalp was not launching a full-on resistance.

Aaah, resistance.  It's lead me to be more "eco-friendly" than any other motivation.  So now we come to the crux of the matter.

To 'Poo or not to 'Poo?  I finally decided, maybe, kind of, to try not 'pooing.

My first thought was, "Why haven't any of these other bloggers delved into the blog goldmine of a volcano of foaming low-'poo scalp?"  Apparently, because there is no volcano.  I was very disappointed.  In my book, if I combine baking soda and vinegar on my head, and cast aside all other 'poos be they scented, organic, or made of placenta, then there should be at least a little fizzing.  Foaming.  Mentos/Diet Coke-style explosion in the shower.  It would all be good with me.  But alas, none of that occurred. 

What did occur was: my hair was clean!  Like, "regular shampoo clean".  As in "I've been washing my hair with a combination of conditioner and bar soap for a week and have the afro to prove it so anything I put on my head has a whole mess of funk to deal with" clean.  Clean!  Clean!  Hallelujah!

Also, my blood pressure did not go up.  (I took it the day after unpooing.  Or whatever it's called.)  I read that some individuals may have problems.  And it makes sense.  Your scalp is pretty vascular.  And baking soda is pretty salty.

Medium-Batch Tsoureki / I think I see bubbles

Tsoureki.  My first foray into Greek Cooking.  Which is a lot like Italian Cooking, except it doesn't have basil, because basil was found by St. Somebody around the foot of the cross.  I know that's not very specific.  But, speaking candidly, I don't care what was growing around the foot of the cross.  Especially if it was basil, because basil is delicious, medicinal, and easy to grow.  I can't imagine that Jesus would feel that if basil were growing around his cross that it should be verboten to his beloved people forever. I mean, he made it.  He knows how good it is.  If He had died atop a hill of johnson grass, maybe I would feel differently.

I had heard about these legendary Easter Breads in passing, read about them once or twice (Italians make them too) and finally came across a recipe that sounded so tasty that I could not resist making it for Easter.  I modified it for size because the original made 5-6 loaves.  I mean, when a recipe is so large the author is not clear on how many whole loaves it makes it is too large for my kitchen.  And in addition, the actual yield of the original recipe, based on my experience, is 1000.  Yes.  Possibly 2000.  It's a lot.  My cut-down recipe, which I cannot even honestly call a "small batch", makes one hubcab-sized loaf or, likely, 2-3 normal-sized loaves.  But it was worth it because it is not only great fresh, it is lucious day after day for breakfast slathered in butter and dunked in your hot beverage of choice.  It is rich, and just lightly sweet, with a velvety, almost cakey texture.  I think I need to go make some more, because my hubcab of Easter love didn't last very long.

Medium-Batch Tsoureki

1 package fast-rising yeast
1/2 C. warm water
3-4 C.sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 C. sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs, separated
1/2-1/3 C. milk
1/2 C. butter (one stick, in America)
half a can of sesame seeds
1 TB. vanilla or almond extract (I made mine with vanilla)
Hardboiled and festively dyed eggs for decoration (extremely optional, but attractive)

Mix together the warm water, salt, and sugar in a large bowl.  Add in the yeast and let proof for 5-10 minutes or until seriously foamy.  As in, "froth on beer" foamy, not "I stirred it a little and I think I see bubbles" foamy.  That is not enough foamy.  That amount of foamy could be "yeast is actually dead but faking you out" foamy, otherwise known as "ahahahaha try and burn ME in the oven, your bread will never rise, yeast-hater" foamy.  Stir in 2 egg yolks and 1 egg white.  (The other egg white is for brushing on top later.)  Add in your milk.  Sift your flour and stir it into the yeast micture one cup at a time, mixing it well to make a smooth batter, then, as you continue adding flour, a glossy dough that pulls away from the sides of the bowl.  Turn it out onto a well-floured surface and knead it about 10 minutes, adding in additional flour as necessary to prevent it becoming too sticky.  When you're done, you should have a satiny elastic dough that does not tear easily.  Put it in a well-greased bowl and cover it with plastic wrap (or wet cheesecloth, it works just fine).  Set your dough in a warm place.  (I've had good success with putting the oven on the lowest setting, letting it preheat, then putting in the dough to rise and turning the oven off after I shut the door).  Let it rise until doubled, about 1-1/2 hours.  This will be your longest rising time.  When it's risen, punch it down and let it rise until doubled again (about 45 minutes).  When it's done so, turn it out onto your work surface and cut it into 6 pieces.  Shape each piece into a long snake.  Braid three snakes together, then turn them into a wreath.  Put your wreaths onto your baking sheets.  Tuck the dyed eggs in amongst the sections of braid if you want the eggs in for decoration.  Then, brush each wreath with the egg white and sprinkle sesame seeds all over them until they are basically more sesame seed than bread.  Yum.  Put them in the oven and bake at 350 until golden brown on top and they sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.  I had to tent mine with aluminum foil for the last 15 minutes or so to prevent the crust from scorching, but a rich caramel brown crust is actually pretty tasty, and this bread's texture doesn't result in a tough crust.  Au contraire.  Weap, packaged white bread, weap.  Toothsome crusts come from the home oven now.


 

Slap Your Momma Biscuits

Hello all!  I hope to post some tastylicious recipes for you to enjoy in the next few weeks, reversing the trend of several months, ie "not posting at all ever, like, ever".  To break the fast I bring you:

Slap Your Momma Biscuits

Why are they called this?  I don't know, and I named them.  Let me clarify.  Here in the American South, we have this phrase, "It/They was/were so good, they made/will make I/me/you/everyone on the planet slap your/his/her/their Momma."  Okay.  But, why?  Why is something so tasty or delightful that it makes a person want to hit their mother?  I don't know.  It defies my reason.  By the same logic, a person could say, "Oh my, this train is so on-time it makes me want to fart inappropriately in an elevator!" or "I love my girlfriend so much that I want to ask her to marry me and then put minor body damage on a stranger's car!"  Not that I'm negating the actual offense of mother-slapping.  It's just that the implied offense in the "slap yo momma" phrase is similar to stinky farts or not leaving a note when your shopping cart leaves a scrape.  But, at the end of the day, when someone says "such and such is sooo good, it'll make you want to slap yo momma!" they mean it is THAT good.  SO GOOD.  OH MY HEAVENLY HOSTS THERE ARE ANGELS DANCING ON THE TIP OF MY TONGUE.  So let's get down to it.  Just don't slap yo momma.  Or told her you wanted to slap her.  Or she may slap you in a pre-emptive mother slapping strike.

By the way, this is definitely one of those recipes where the technique is actually more important than the list of the ingredients.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

 Slap Your Momma Biscuits

1-1/2 C. SIFTED flour.  IE, sift it into the measuring cup, or sift it and then measure it, but by all means DO NOT measure it and then sift it!

2 TB. shortening or lard
2 TB. soft butter + extra for brushing on the top
1/2 tsp. salt
1-1/2 tsp. single-acting (aluminum-free) or 3/4 tsp. double-acting ("regular") baking powder
1/2 to 3/4 C. buttermilk*

Preheat the oven to 450F.  Combine the sifted flour with the salt and baking powder.  Cut in the shortening and butter until the mixture has a grainy, sandy texture.  If you need more of the fat, add more shortening for crustiness or more butter for tenderness.  Gently mix in the buttermilk until the dough is moist and can be patted into a shape.  Proceed to turn the dough out onto a floured surface and pat it into a shape.  These biscuits are crustiest when you pat the dough 1/2 inch thick and then cut them into rounds with a SHARP biscuit cutter.  They are fluffier if you pinch off the dough into golfball-sized chunks and then softly pat them into a round shape.  Either way, do not overwork the dough!  By "not overworking", I mean that the process should literally process (proh-CESS) like this if you're getting ready to cut out rounds, for example: "Dumdedum, mixing in the buttermilk, dumping it out, pat pat, nudge nudge, a little more patting DONE."  Basically, as soon as you have the dough in a defined shape you've worked it enough.  Otherwise your product will be tough little items useful for sporting practice, or deterring the local racoon from your garden by show of force, but not for eating.  Take it from me, the person who learned how to make pastry before she learned how to make biscuits and paid dearly for it.  Returning to the subject, put your biscuits nestled up to each other with their sides touching on your baking pan or ideally your cast iron skillet, and brush or spread a little pat of butter on each top.  (I just spread it on, but it would be easier I guess if it were melted?)  Then, bake them in your nice hot oven, without peaking (except to look through the glass door with the oven light on, if you are so blessed) for about 10 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown.  If you are not blessed with a glass door and an oven light, wait at least 5 minutes before checking on them.  When they are done, take them out and let them cool off a minute or so before devouring them like hungry animals with lots of butter, honey, jam, gravy, or whatever you like to put on biscuits.  Seriously, they're that good.  They're pretty good leftover too.  So maybe I should rechristen them "Hungry Animal Biscuits."  Naaah.

*You can make your own buttermilk by combining the total volume minus 1-2 TB of milk with 1-2 TB vinegar or lemon juice.  Either option tastes fine.



 

Huh.

So, I haven't posted a lot.  And...people still visit this blog.  For the recipes.  Success.  It baffles me that my stuff both comes up in a google search and is, apparently favored over more "legit" sources.  I don't know, maybe it's because the stuff is good?  Or not ridiculously complicated?  Who knows.  Still, it's fun to check on a project that was on the back burner's back burner and see that it apparently has as many visits as it did in its heydey of me posting things three times a week.  So...congratulations to me...for being a culinary success...in the eyes of the anonymous internet?