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.

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.



 

Savory Gravy for Cornbread / Family Photos

I created this recipe as a way to use up a can of diced stewed tomatoes, and because I've been wanting to try both of the things this sauce evokes: Red-Eye Gravy and Tomato Gravy.  For those who don't know, Tomato Gravy is a rich sauce that traditionally has fresh tomatoes and cream in it, as well as various seasonings, onions, and occasionally bell peppers, that's meant to be served on top of grits, rice, biscuits, or cornbread.  (Sometimes it comes with shrimp in it too.  Delicious.)  Red-Eye Gravy is a thinner, meat fat-based sauce that is served atop biscuits or cornbread, more as a condiment, shall we say.  It's called "Red-Eye" Gravy because the roux is thinned with coffee instead of milk or broth.  So which is my recipe?  Both, neither, and definitely its own thing.  I don't thing either Red-Eye or Tomato Gravy has ham in it.  But I had ham, and ham imparts a tasty flavor, so ham went in it!

Savory Gravy for Cornbread

1 can diced tomatoes
1-2 TB flour
less than 1/4 C. chopped ham-- say 1-2 TB?
cooking oil
1/2 to 1 whole onion, chopped (this depends on your appreciation of onions)
1/4 tsp or so instant coffee granules (or 1-2 TB. of strong brewed coffee would probably work, too)
1 TB. Korean BBQ sauce.  (In my opinion store-bought Korean BBQ sauce cannot be beat for imbibing a certain meaty je ne sais quoi.)

Heat the oil in the bottom of a small saucepan.  When it's hot enough, add in the onions and saute them until they're reasonably soft.  (They'll have more time in the pan, so it's not essential that they're limp.)  Add in the ham and let it sizzle around for a hot minute, then add in the canned tomatoes, juice and all.  Let that simmer at medium to medium-high (depending on your stove-- in other words, super-bubbly but not erupting tomato juice all over your stove top-- which mine totally did) for about 5-8 minutes.  Add in the Korean BBQ sauce and the coffee granules/brewed coffee, stirring so that they're well mixed.  Add in the flour, stirring rapidly to avoid lumps, 2 tsp. at a time until the sauce is the thickness you like it.  Turn the stove down to the low setting and let it simmer and bubble for another 5-10 minutes or so.  Serve in generous helpings over some fresh cornbread.
________

I thought I'd pull out the photo album Grandmom put together for me to see if I could find some inspiration there.  I did!  Sort of. 

The first few pages are pictures from my parents' (failed) wedding.  By that I mean that the wedding was successful but the marriage was not.  Interestingly enough, Grandpop looks like he doesn't know what the hell is going on.  Also I note that Grandmom has, with the delicacy of a true archivist, hole-punched straight through the 8x11 deluxe photos to put them in the album.  Go Grandmom.  She has always liked my mom, and I'm sure she likes my dad, (her son), but it gives me a sort of glee to see hole punches through pictures of them looking...well, not to put too fine a point on it...smug.  Or, in my dad's case, like he doesn't know what the hell is going on.  Maybe it's genetic? 

Heading forward a couple of years or so, there's pictures of "(me) 5 days old".  Grandpop definitely looks like he knows what the hell is going on.  He is holding a tiny baby.  He appears to like it.  I appear to like it too, even when the picture shows only a large masculine finger pointing directly at the side of my face (I'm smiling). 

2 months later, my new talent appears to be looking accusingly into the camera. 

A couple of months later and Grandpop has beaten "Meet the Parents" by decades, trying to give a very confused-looking me a bottle while nestling me close to his hairy chest.

Through it all, Grandmom and Grandpop keep appearing, having taken expensive trips several hundred miles away from where they live, all to come see me.  (I was the only grandchild for a long time.  I had some serious cousin envy when my Uncle Ron finally settled down!) 

My cousins and I all learned to like each other eventually, and somewhere there are pictures of us all playing dress-up together.  And, in one memorable instance, me manhandling one of them because of a theatre-related mishap.  What can I say?  I SPENT ALL AFTERNOON WRITING THAT PLAY ABOUT PRINCESSES.  THEY COULD AT LEAST BOTHER TO LEARN THE LINES.  Personally, I would be happy if that picture were never seen by human eyes again.  I wouldn't even mention the incident except that it was so memorable that my cousins also remember the actual event, and continue to tease me about it.  They definitely come from the more laid-back side of the family.  Other, fonder, memories also came from that family trip, just to set the record straight.

Cinnamon Raisin Coffee Cake

Update

This cake is nasty!  I guess I've gotten so used to being able to produce good stuff from my kitchen that I didn't bother to try it for once before posting it.  I mean, it's not cough-syrup-flavored or made with lice, but it's not exactly tasty.  Its issues are: too dense, not enough filling, not enough flavor overall.  There, I said it.  Based on the continued popularity of my blog post about the homemade toothpaste, I'm guessing that my honesty about kitchen failures is entertaining.  Which was in part the point.  Success!  So, if you feel inclined to mess around with this recipe, feel free.  I would add about 2-3 more cups of raisins and real sugar instead of corn syrup, skip the whole "1 TB of this, 1 TB of that" business and just dump a whole boatload of butter in its place, and let this one rise twice like it was supposed to, rolling it out between risings and filling it with the aforementioned raisins.  But that's just an estimate, since I probably will just make actual real cinnamon buns next time instead of lazy, cabinet-purging muffinettes.  (I felt at the time that muffins would be a good call.  Turns out: I was wrong.)

Fruit Filling (I use the word "filling" loosely)
1 C. golden raisins
1/4 C. granulated sugar or light corn syrup (I used corn syrup...still cleaning out the cabinets)
1-2 tsp. ground cinnamon

Heat the corn syrup on the stove in a small saucepan over medium heat.  Stir in the cinnamon and the raisins.  Turn the heat down to low and let it sit and bubble for a few minutes-- 5 or so.  (It should still be runny.)

Batter
1 pkg. quick-rise yeast (if you have regular, just plan on doubling the rising time, but otherwise do everything else the same)
1/2 C. milk

Heat the milk until it's warm but not hot (otherwise you'll kill your yeast!!).  Stir in your yeast and let it proof, ie let it sit and make bubbles for a minute or so.  (If it doesn't bubble, start over with new yeast and fresh milk.)

Then, whisk together:

1 C. all-purpose flour
1 C. whole wheat flour
1/4 tsp. salt

In a separate bowl, combine the following, adding the egg second last and the sugar last.

1 egg
1 TB. shortening, melted
2 TB. sunflower oil
1 TB. cream cheese
1/4 C. sugar (I had powdered, but granulated would probably be fine)

Stir the yeast mixture into the wet ingredients.  Then add the wet into the dry, including the Fruit filling that you have prepared.  Or, you could make it a true filling and layer it into the batter when you get closer to baking it.  Either way, set your batter aside in a warm place and let it rise until double.  (I'm impatient, so what I do is let it rise to about 75% and then put the batter in a cold oven instead of preheating it.  It works out pretty well!)  When your batter is how you like it, pour your batter into the receptacle of your choice.  I used a muffin pan plus a mini loaf pan, but it would make two regular-sized loaves, or a 9x9 square pan as well.  Then, bake it according to your tastes (the impatient way or the regular way) at 350 for 20-30 minutes or until it passes the toothpick test.  If you feel extra festive, make a frosting from 1 C. powdered sugar and 1-2 TB. of milk and pour it over the top!
_________

When I was younger, I used to wish that I had a more picture-perfect home life.  "Wish" is probably not strong enough a word.  I felt instinctively that my life would be a lot easier if it were.  I'm thankful, though, for the strength that God has taught me through my non-picture-perfect family, and I'm thankful that he gave me Grandmom and Grandpop, that were such a source of rest when life was so hard.  In amongst all of that, they were like an island of food and love in the midst of a raging sea. It was bittersweet to go visit them because I knew I had to leave, and I knew what I had to go back to. But it still meant the world to me. And I appreciated the home-cooked meals while I was there, and the unfashionable winter coats that they sent me when I wasn't there, much more than if their love and kindness were all I had ever known.  And at the end of the day, I think I can honestly say that I could survive pretty much anything. My world isn't going to come crashing down if I'm hungry, or cold, or despised. I know that hunger cannot break your spirit, and the cold cannot kill it. I know the difference between being liked for what I have and being liked for who I am, and I know the difference between being disliked for what I've done and being mistreated because I'm vulnerable.

But most of all, I'm thankful for knowing what it means to be loved just for existing on this earth, and not because of anything else.  And the wisdom to know that this is the difference between love and appreciation.  Appreciation fades.  Appreciation can replace its object.  Appreciation definitely dies a swift and bitter death once its source dries up.  Love...doesn't.  Love is worth it.  Appreciation isn't.  Thank you, Grandmom and Grandpop.

Fudge Sauce / Determination-Flavored Yogurt

I made this recipe up because of an unfortunate event that has occured in the last few weeks.  Here's the story: several months ago, I went to the store to get some things and discovered yogurt with chocolate on the bottom.  Not fruit.  Not a fruit-based derivative.  Straight up chocolate.  I bought other, more conventional flavors, as well as the chocolate-on-the-bottom with my mind open and my reservations alert and ready.  No need.  It was delicious!  I have, in a back part of my brain, been meaning to go get some more ever since.  However, at some point in the time between when I bought it and when I (recently) returned to that store, the store decided to no longer carry it.  Not that brand.  Not that "style" (oh, yogurt styles...there are now a thousand of them), just that flavor.  I was so upset that I pouted (which, with my strict upbringing, I have only recently learned to do) up at the disappointing and conventional fruit flavors displayed along the top shelf.   And then I put the toe of one foot on the lip of the refrigerator case and hoisted myself to eye level with the yogurts, hoping to find one last chocolate-on-the-bottom hidden in the back.  If my thoughts had been verbalized, they would have gone something like, "I do not care if you have been back there up to and past your expiration date!  Others may not be willing to risk it, but I love you, chocolate-on-the-bottom yogurt!"  After several hopeful seconds of scanning the back of the shelf, I descended from my perch disappointed.  Whether it was the pouting or the climbing, or both, a nearby store patron then chivalrously offered to help me get whatever it was I was trying to get.  Sometimes sharing your feelings with others is healthy!  Especially when people unexpectedly offer to get things off of high shelves for you.

Anyway, I was not one to give up so easy.  I had already, in full public view, climbed on an appliance in the grocery store!  Undeterred, I went home with the idea of recreating the blissfulness of chocolate-on-the-bottom yogurt in my kitchen by basically putting chocolate sauce on the bottom of a reusable cup of yogurt.  And I did.  And this is the chocolate sauce recipe!  I will offer it with some variation options and caveats, since my approach was somewhat unconventional.

Chocolate Sauce for Yogurt

1/2 a Dove bar
2 TB. cocoa powder
2-3 TB. half & half
1-2 tsp. light corn syrup
1-2 tsp. butter

Melt the chocolate over low-medium heat.  Stir in the cocoa powder (it will make a coarse meal).  Add in the butter, which will then melt and help better blend together the cocoa powder and chocolate bar.  Reduce the heat to the lowest setting and stir in the corn syrup and half & half, adding a little more cocoa powder if you want your sauce a little thicker.  Your sauce is done when there are not lumps of cocoa left and the sauce looks smooth and glossy.  Spoon it into a prepared glass jar (a small one-- maybe 4 oz. at the most) and let it cool a couple of minutes before refrigeration.  When you're ready, put 2 spoonfuls of chocolate sauce on the bottom of a reusable container, then fill it to the top with yogurt!  This appears to make about eight 6 oz. yogurt cups-worth of chocolate sauce.

This is how I actually made it, because it's what I had on hand and also because I was too stubborn to break into the half-a-package of legitimate chocolate chips that I also had and hope to use to make a chocolate babka with next week.  It tastes good to me, but if you used probably about 2-3 oz. of semisweet chocolate chips in place of the cocoa powder and Dove bar combo it would probably be creamier, and also more like a milk chocolate sauce than a dark chocolate sauce.

Apple Spice Coffee Cake / The Smoking Foodgun

Apple Spice Coffee Cake

Filling
3 large apples, cored, peeled, and coarsely chopped
juice of 1 orange
1 C. dark brown sugar
2-3 TB. butter
1/4 C. sultana raisins (optional).

Melt the butter in a skillet.  Melt the sugar in the butter.  Dump in the apples and juice.  Let simmer until the apples are fully cooked.  If you want the raisins, add them at the same time that you add the apples.

Batter
1-2/3 C. unbleached all-purpose flour
2/3 C. whole wheat flour
1 pkg. yeast
1/2 C. milk
2 eggs
1/3 C. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cardamom
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
2 TB. ginger paste -or- 1 tsp. powdered ginger
1/4 C. oil

Mix together the dry ingredients.  Warm the milk.  Add in the yeast and let it proof (1-5 minutes, depending on whether it's regular or quick-rise).  In a separate bowl from the flour, mix together the yeast mixture, the eggs, and the oil.  Beat this into the flour mixture, stirring for about 1 minute or until the dough starts to pull away from the sides slightly.  Let rise in a warm place about 30 minutes to 1 hour (again, depending on your yeast).  Grease and flour a bundt pan and preheat the oven to 350F.  Pour half the batter into the pan.  Pour in the filling.  Top with the remainder of the batter and bake for about 40 minutes.  (You might have to tent the top of the cake for the last 10 minutes or so, depending on how hot your oven runs.  It should be a nice medium brown on top, though.)  Take the cake out after it passes the toothpick test and let it cool for about 15 minutes before attempting to cut it. 

I had apples, so I used apples, but another alternative is to use two or three jars of orange marmalade and skip the whole "making a filling" step.  That would bring out the spices more and be a lot easier.  It is tasty as an apple cake, for sure.
________

In my search for a pan while cooking dinner, I discovered the manual to a vintage kitchen appliance I own called "the Foodgun".  I know.  It sounds like it should be illegal in schools and on planes and public property.  In reality, it is a spritz cookie maker and, according to the ambitions of the manufacturer, the most useful tool in our kitchens since the fork.  Have a bunch of cooked unfilled manicotti laying around?  Problem solved!  Use the Foodgun.  Need to turn plain mashed potatoes into a gourmet dish via shooting them out of a motorized canister?  Shabam, the Foodgun gives you "Duchess Potatoes".  Its uses potentially are limited only by the human imagination of things that need to be filled and substances that can be shot into those things.  In addition, the manufacturer provided a helpful "FAQ" section at the back that makes Dr. Dre look like an amateur at spinning.  Example: "Q. Is it dishwasher safe?  A. The motor housing is not immersible, but easily cleans with a damp cloth.  It's possible to put the separate parts in the dishwasher--but not advisable....Besides, they're so easily cleaned with a soak and a wipe that it's hardly worth the time to put them in the dishwasher."  (Emphasis mine.)  Excuse me, but until I have a personal attendant who enjoys applying "a soak and a wipe" to dishwasher-safe items, it is still worth the time for me to put them in the dishwasher.  Furthermore, I cannot imagine the "soak and a wipe" that would be both quick and sufficient to remove a thick, sticky layer of extruded cookie dough from the inside of a plastic barrel.  It would involve much more than that.  Possibly two soaks.  And definitely about a thousand wipes.  Or the dishwasher.  Just come out and say it if it's not dishwasher safe.  There is no such thing as "marginally dishwasher safe", except, apparently, in the minds of the makers of the Foodgun. 

This Foodgun in particular came to me by a circuitous route.  It was originally given to Grandmom as a Christmas or birthday present, and it was something she wanted.  However, it turned out not to be exactly what she thought it was, or something to that effect, so she hung onto it for a while and then regifted it to my mom at her bridal shower.  Remember, this was about thirty years before "regifting" was even a word.  But Grandmom did it!  My mom knew about it and was fine with it.  Eventually she tried it out, and it too wasn't quite what she had in mind.  So, she gave it back to Grandmom, where it sat in the basement for the next 25 years until Grandmom asked me if I wanted to poke around there and see if there was anything I wanted for my first apartment (on approval, of course).  I haven't tried it out yet.  Honestly, I'm kind of afraid to. 

Also, my not using it allows it to last longer and therefore possibly become the most epic regifting since the Ugly Sweater Episode.  In a nutshell, either my Great-aunt Kitty or my Grandmom or possibly their respective Mother-in-law/Mother gave it to one of them.  It was, by both their reports, really ugly.  Yet it was mandatory for whoever got it first to wear it occasionally out of respect for one's elders.  Until somebody got the brilliant idea to "accidentally" lose it at the other one's house.  In a very hidden location.  At first, the finder, whoever it was (Grandmom or Aunt Kitty), thought it was an accident and tried to give it back.  The ugly sweater returned, and the game was on.  Over the course of about 15 years the ugly sweater traded houses multiple times and also went to Myrtle Beach and Upstate Pennsylvania, (in various hands) and also once to Paris, France.  (Grandmom was responsible for that one, sneaking it into a packed suitcase on pretense of using the bathroom at Aunt Kitty's house the day before she left on vacation.)  As you can imagine, over time the methods of sweater delivery had to become more sophisticated.  It got mailed.  It got "Return to Sender"-ed.  It came in the back of a framed picture.  Of course it got given for Christmas along with a more legitimate gift at least once apiece.  It goes without saying that every coat closet in both their respective houses got paid a visit by the ugly sweater, while the deliverer tried to sneak out without having to retrieve it, sometimes with success.  (I remember Grandmom telling me she was so frustrated on one occasion because she had checked every closet multiple times during a visit from Aunt Kitty and Aunt Kitty still managed to sneak the ugly sweater in somehow right before she left.)  So, with my vintage Foodgun approaching its fourth holder and decade, I think I can definitely continue the tradition, if I find just the right victim...er...recipient.

Oven-Roasted Potatoes, Ketchup Variations / Fire, Fire, Fire

Something I learned in the American-Style Chop Suey Incident is that Italian Seasoning makes things better.  Typically I am not a big promoter of spice blends, because personally I like to be able to add what I want to add in the quantities that I want to add them in, rather than have my dish's flavor dictated by Knorr or McKormick.  However, I have added Italian Seasoning to my short list of exceptions.  It's good for making a dish somehow zippier.  Just to be clear, it doesn't make it taste more Italian, at least not in my opinion, but it's still good.  I especially recommend it on roasted potatoes, like in the recipe below, and in sautees and sauces that you want to be indefinably meatier without actually adding any meat.

Oven-Roasted Potatoes

3-4 medium potatoes, washed but not peeled
enough Italian Seasoning to generously sprinkle over the potatoes
salt to taste
oil of your choice

Preheat the oven to 425F.  Chop your potatoes thusly: cut them in fourths longways (ie hold them up on one long side and slice off each end, then slice the remaining middle in half).  You should now have four slabs of potato about the size of a deck of cards each.  (The ends will probably be smaller.)  Take each slab and slice it into 3-4 strips, then turn the cut slab as a whole shortways and cut the strips into 1 to 1-1/2 inch chunks.  Put your chunks in a glass baking dish and drizzle them with the oil.  Then sprinkle on your salt and Italian Seasoning.  Bake them in the oven with a tinfoil lid for about 45 minutes, or until they are tender in the middle.  If you like them crispy on the outside, take the tinfoil off for the last 15 minutes or so.  If you like your potatoes softer but not crispy, leave the tinfoil on the whole time.

Additionally: Interesting Things to Do With Ketchup

Mix 1/4 C. ketchup with: 1/2 tsp. curry powder
                                       : 2-3 TB. honey
                                       : 2-3 TB. soy sauce
                                       : 1 tsp. Korean BBQ sauce 
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An interesting note: oil in the oven can catch on fire.  Surprisingly, so can many other things, especially if the oven is on too hot.  Do not turn on the oven too hot.  "Too hot" is defined as anything besides broiling meat put in on the "broil" setting, or 100 degrees or more higher than the stated cooking temperature.  Do not leave things in the oven too long.  "Too long" is defined as at least 15 minutes after you first smelled something starting to burn and though "Oh, I should go do something about that," and then promptly forgot about it. 

Follow proper procedure for kitchen fires if something in your oven catches fire.  "Proper procedure" is NOT defined as opening the oven door, having flames shoot out, saying "OH DEAR!" and slamming the oven door shut.  I promise none of these happened to me while preparing the Oven-Roasted Potatoes.  But that is as far as I am willing to commit in the promise-making department.

It might also possibly be true that I once told my lab partner that I almost set my last lab partner on fire and then immediately got a beaker vacuum-sealed to my hand.  Both of my lab partners developed a fine sense of hyperalertness.  But they didn't trade lab partners!  Even lab partner number one, who not only almost got set on fire as a general concept, but who almost got his genitals set on fire in specific.  Moral of the story: do not try to light your Bunsen burner unless you are absolutely certain which tap is the gas tap.

Independence Pancakes / On Being American

These pancakes are free of animal products! So I guess that makes them cruelty-free, too. They are also cholesterol-free, and, if you leave out the oil and add more almond milk, fat-free. Leave out the white sugar and they're sugar-free. Besides all that, the batter is an excellent consistency for adding patriotic-themed fruit. Here's a tip, BTW: Pour your pancake batter into the hot pan, spread it around a little with the spoon you used to put it in there, and then put your fruit pieces in one at a time until you've got a nice pizza-pie effect going on. Let the pancake cook like normal, then flip it. Shazaam, each pancake has the perfect amount of fruit and is also cooked to perfection on both sides. Grandmom taught me that trick.

Independence Pancakes

1 C. applesauce
1/4 C. oil + extra for frying the pancakes
1 C. whole wheat flour
1 C. white all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
2 TB. white sugar (optional)
1/3-1/2 C. almond milk as needed for consistency (it should be a thick but pourable batter)

Whisk together your dry ingredients.  Add in your wet ingredients one at a time, putting in the almond milk last.  Let rest a couple of minutes.  (The batter actually will stay good in the refrigerator with a piece of plastic wrap covering the surface for over a week, so you can do that too if you don't want to make all 12 or so pancakes at once.)  In the meantime, heat about 2 tsp. of oil in a fry pan over medium heat until a drop of water tossed in sizzles and pops.  Drop in about 1/4 C. batter per pancake, spacing them out adequately so you have room to turn them.  Put in the fruit (or other additions) now if you want to have them in your pancakes.  Let the pancakes cook until they have dry bubbles around the edges and wet bubbles popping up in the center.  Then flip them, and let them cook until the pancakes rise and are firm and not squishy when you stroke them with the spatula.  (That's the best way I can describe it.)  If you're uncertain and you don't care how your pancakes look, use the sharp edge of the spatula to make a small cut in the center of your pancakes-- when they're done the middle will look cakey and shouldn't be gooey or wet-looking at all.  You know your stove temperature is right when your pancakes are a nice golden brown on both sides and they're done in the middle.  If your stove is too hot, they'll be burned on the outside and gooey inside.  Too cold and they'll be lightly tanned on the outside and tough on the inside.  Anyway, once your pancakes are definitively done, remove them to a serving plate and eat them as soon as possible, with whatever toppings you prefer.  I like the traditional maple syrup and butter combo, but pancakes are almost always tasty with applesauce on top, and sometimes sour cream.  And who knows what else.
________

The other day, I went to visit my cousin who's about to enter seminary.  We had a great visit, we talked about all kinds of things, and I learned something about my family: we are all rebels.

Only in my family would becoming a minister be a rebellious act, but it was.  If my cousin had, for example, decided to go to a state college in pursuit of a bachelor's degree, he would be unexceptional for us.  If he discovered while there that he was incredibly talented at, say, engineering, everyone would be applauding him right now.  But instead, he decided to become a priest.  A priest!  A Catholic priest!  If he had announced that he wanted to grow antlers and run away to the forest he would have been met with less resistance. 

But he didn't want to grow antlers, he wanted to be a Catholic priest.  And so he faced the flack, the flat-out, no-holds-barred, intrafamily gossiping, the subtle hints that his sexual libido would eventually grow into a One-Eyed, One-Horned, Giant Purple People Eater with dire consequences if he continued on his chosen path. 

And that's what I mean when I say, "We are all rebels."  My mom loves business.  What did I do?  I got a fine arts degree.  Her mom was a housewife, member of the garden club, and proud supporter of the DAR.  What did my mom do?  Become the manager two steps down from the CEO of any company she works at.  It's like some sort of Call of the Wild.  Tell one of us what we should do and...hey, what are you doing?  What?  WHAT?!  Yes, that person is now doing the exact opposite. 

So, in the spirit of the upcoming Independence Day holiday, I have to mention that this uncontrollable personality trait may have been shared by the gentlemen who felt it would be appropriate to throw a whole boatload of very expensive tea in the ocean and set the boat on fire.  Let freedom ring!  And I love you, James!  I'm so glad that you're my cousin.

Javelinas / True Love, Fifties-Style

2-2/3 C. all-purpose flour
1/3 C. whole wheat flour
1 TB. baking powder
1/2 C. milk
1/4 C. shortening
1/2 C. molasses
2/3 C. brown sugar
1 tsp. anise seeds
1 C. golden raisins
1 egg, separated
1 tsp. vanilla
granulated sugar, for dusting

Preheat the oven to 350F.  Combine the flours and baking powder.  In a separate bowl, blend together the shortening and brown sugar.  Add in the molasses and vanilla.  Beat in the egg yolk.  Combine the flour and egg mixtures.  Blend in the raisins and anise seed.  Add milk to moisten until the consistency is somewhat akin to scone dough.  Turn out onto a floured work surface and knead briefly, just until the dough hangs together well.  Pat into a round, then pat the round out to 1/2-inch (1 cm-ish) thickness.  Cut into rounds with a biscuit cutter --or-- use a pig-shaped cookie cutter.  Place them on a greased baking sheet about a half-inch apart and brush the tops with the reserved egg white.  Sprinkle them with generously with granulated sugar.  Bake for 18-20 minutes or until done.  (They will rise somewhat and the sugar on top will brown.)
________

The difference between Grandmom and me (so I thought) was that I had a more adventurous and reckless nature.  Grandmom doesn't go out of the house with the dryer still running.  I still occasionally put things in the oven that are going to take a long time before I leave the house on purpose.  I don't do so very often, because eventually I am overcome by the possibility of returning to my house to find it a smoking ruin.  It's never happened, but you try driving home hoping your house hasn't recently been put out by the fire department and see how inclined you are to do it again.  There you go.  Some people, like Grandmom, could not even bear the possibility.  I, on the other hand, eventually forget the possibility and live to tempt disaster once again.  And so I thought that was the way things stood amongst us, until Grandmom told me about her other fiance. Yes, all this time I thought Grandpop was her first love.  In my imagination it could have been taken right from a script for "The Donna Reed Show".  But oh, no, I was wrong.  She was about 20 years old, and she had been seeing this other boy from her high school since she was fourteen, so about six years.  Eventually, they got engaged.  And then, she and my Grandpop (who also went to the same school) both went to a party hosted by mutual friends.  At some point during the party, Grandpop called out "WHO WANTS TO SIT ON MY LAP?!"  And Grandmom decided that she wanted to.  She told me that at that moment she knew that she loved that other guy "like a brother", and she broke it off to go out with Grandpop!  So I guess I come by it naturally.

Cherry Biscotti

So, I thought I would provide info on the cherry biscotti that made it into the picture of the Walnut Snowballs!  It's really easy:

Make a batch of dough for the anise toast, leaving out the anise extract.  You can omit it entirely--or--substitute vanilla extract if you want.  Coarsely chop about 2/3 C. dried cherries.  In a small bowl, mix together the dried cherries and about 1/4 C. sugar.  Divide your dough into two portions.  Put both portions on a lightly-greased baking sheet.  (They will both fit on one.  Do the filling and shaping on the baking sheet rather than on a work surface because the dough is fairly soft and otherwise it would take some serious coordination to keep them from falling apart midair while you were attempting to transfer them.)  Pat each portion out into an oval about 8 inches long by 4 inches wide by 1 inch thick.  Pat half of the cherry-sugar mixture on top.  Roll up the dough jellyroll-fashion.  Pat into a loaf about 10 inches long by 2-3 inches thick by 3 inches wide.  Repeat for the other half of the dough.  Bake as directed for the anise toast, including the slicing and retoasting part.  My experience making this is that you want to let your baked loaves rest about 5-10 minutes (it's okay if they get a little cool) before trying to slice them and toast the slices.  They'll hold up better and be less likely to crumble when you're cutting them.  The ones in the picture turned out really crispy and flavorful!  They are good for dipping in coffee, but are not hard, so you can eat them by themselves also.

Scrapple

1 lb bulk sausage meat
14 oz. can evaporated milk
3/4 C. water
1/2 C. yellow cornmeal
1/4 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp. pepper
Cooking oil
flour for breading

In a heavy skillet, brown the meat in its own fat.  Mix together the evaporated milk and water, and add into the pan.  Bring to a boil, then slowly stir in the cornmeal and seasonings.  Cook five minutes, stirring constantly.  Pour all into a loaf pan and chill until firm (overnight).  Unmold and slice into 1/2" thick slices.  Dip the slices in flour and fry in a pan.  OR, dip the slices in crushed cornflakes, then milk, then flour, and then fry.  Good served with ketchup, horseradish, or pancake syrup.
***
Oh, scrapple.  This recipe is a pretty good variety.  Commercial scrapple is a whole other story, akin to the stories of commercial hot dogs and commercial balogna versus the homemade items.  (Is there such a thing as homemade hot dogs?)  How well I remember a particular family friend asking me nearly every time he ate scrapple, "do you know what that's made of?"  And then relishing in the denouement once again, while taking luxuriously large bites of scrapple or alternating descriptions of its content with songs of praise about how delicious it was.  He was and is truly an odd bird.  As, in my opinion, is anybody who eats scrapple.  Maybe he taught his lesson well: more scrapple for him!