Potlikkery

new favorite bread

The bread recipe from  Bon Apetit that I made for Thanksgiving must be my new favorite bread recipe. I love the blend of two flours with cornmeal; it's whole wheat and regular. The recipe uses cranberries and pecans. There's also a bit of maple syrup in there as well as maple extract. I love cranberries, but pecans I only like in pecan pies and german chocolate blizzards. I'm not one for nuts in my bread, or cookies, or brownies, or cakes.

Alas, maybe it's pecans. I love almonds in anything. So I tweaked the recipe a bit and subbed dried blueberries for cranberries and almonds for pecans. Added a bit of vanilla extract, but should have dropped in almond extract, too. Next time.

And then, my options in bakeware were limited. My glass loaf pan was dirty from the bread I made the previous day. And my metal load pan is rusted. Just don't feel right about making anything in that. Yet, I had four mini-load pans. Divided the batter into fourths and went that way. But, the bread seemed to lack the density of the original loaf.

Pretty to look at and yummy to eat!

pancakes flipped with love

Sigh. Having Ian home in the mornings is lovely. We awoke with the same thought in mind. Pancakes. Okay, actually I love waffles better than pancakes. It's silly, really. They're almost the same thing.

I like the grids and depressions that catch my syrup. I had waffles on my mind, but I said pancakes to Ian because pancakes make him happy. And he was doing all the mixing and flipping.

pumpkin bread pudding

My pumpkin bread pudding wasn't as mouth-watering as I hoped. Oh, it was good, but then in the middle of tasting I decided that pumpkin is just a bit bland for my palate. The bread was all fabulous and bread puddingy, but that was about all that recommended this dish. It's terrible, and wasteful, but frequently I made dishes, taste them, then let them sit in the fridge until time to throw them out. Mostly I lack that urge to gobble my way through dishes that don't absolutely float my boat. That may be what helps me keep my weight within a steady range, sometimes.

While my actions don't highly recommend the recipe, it was good. Ian loved it. He nibbled a few cold spoonfuls from the bowl. I used at least a dozen of those little Hawaiian bread rolls. The ones that are super sweet and eggy? Perfect substitution for challah when you don't have many bread options in homogeneous-town America.

I also added white chocolate chips, pecan pieces, and golden raisins to the recipe that appeared in the October issue of Gourmet. Serendipitously, several recipes for bread pudding cropped up under my radar in the last month or so. There's one in Bon Apetit I might try, also.

turkey lurkey

Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday overall, but my most favorite for its food. Oh how I love turkey. I could eat turkey every day. All day. Standing over the turkey leftovers and nibbling those refrigerated bits is a certain kind of bliss. And turkey sandwiches? I won't go on.

Ian and I spent the day alone, together. It was lovely. Intimate holidays are the best and I love them for their simplicity. We get along so well together that spending the day puttering around in the kitchen is the best thing ever. It's mostly stress-free. This year I didn't mess up any recipe or run out of ingredients. Staying home is wonderful, as is feasting on the fruits of our labor.

We bought a deep fryer and at least a vat of peanut oil to fry it in a few weeks back. Ian bought our turkey around the same time as well. Then for the past few days I've heard about how he was rooked at Kroger because their price on Butterballs was higher than anywhere else. Not a big surprise to me about Kroger.

Our twelve pound turkey cooked in just under forty-two minutes. It was heavenly. Ian said it tasted, the skin, that is, like bacon. And I agreed. Yum. I've always been a skin-lover. That's the best part. Forget the meat inside. Yet, the meat was juicy and tender and remained hot even after we'd eaten and were picking the carcass clean of its meat.

Before easing it into the fryer, I rubbed the turkey with a mixture of sea salt, pepper, cayenne, and garlic salt. No injections here. I read about them online, but figured since this was our first deep-frying experience we'd keep it simple. The fryer was set up outside and fueled by a propane tank. Ian heated the oil to 325 and then we were set. The day was cold, windy, and wet.

Besides being Thanksgiving, it was Ian's birthday, and my step-sister-in-law's as well, though I didn't see her until today (Saturday). And it started out kind of crappy because Ian messed up the first batch of deviled eggs. We think the mayo was bad.

He likes Miracle Whip, I prefer Hellman's. We both like his mother's deviled egg recipe and it's usually what we go by. Exact amounts are not important and for the most part I usually don't pay attention to how much of something I use. Making things to taste is just intuitive. Anyway there's mayo, mustard (or mustard powder), vinegar, salt, pepper, and sugar in Barb's deviled eggs. I'd love to try something more frou frou with the deviled eggs, like a caviar stuffing, but Ian wouldn't go for that.

Deep fried turkey, stuffing, deviled eggs, roasted veggies (mushrooms, pearl onions, carrots, brussel sprouts, garlic, and yellow potatoes), sweet potato souffle, green bean casserole, cranberry-pecan bread, and gingerbread cheesecake.

Now we have leftovers that I was told to take care of. That means either scarf it all down by the time Ian returns from his latest train trip, or toss it into the garbage. No way I'm eighty-sixing the turkey. It'll go into the freezer.

New recipes I tried this year were the gingerbread cheesecake (from MSL, 12/07), the cranberry-pecan bread (from Bon Apetit, 11/07), and the roasted veggies since I saw something similar on Healthy Appetite with Ellie Krieger a few days ago. I so missed the mashed potatoes and swear I won't go without them again. But, sweet potato souffle and mashed potatoes? Too much starch. It's potato overkill.

Q and A (quinoa and applesauce)

Since I've been lax with the foodie posts in the past four days I'm taking this opportunity for a small dash of fun in the form of a meme I found at Lisa's. I think I've answered something similar before. But I can't resist. And I'm off to make a bread pudding!

How do you like your eggs? deviled (or over-easy, depending on the season, cause everybody knows that deviled-eggs aren't everyday affairs

How do you take your coffee/tea? black, if i'm drinking coffee; tea is iced and plain/un-sweet

Favorite breakfast food: soppy egss and toast with a side of bacon; i love breakfast food

Peanut butter: Reduced fat crunchy Peter Pan that they haven't returned to the shelves since the peanut butter scare of February

What kind of dressing on your salad? Bleu cheese

Coke or Pepsi? Neither, thanks. I'll drink water

You’re feeling lazy. What do you make? White rice in my rice cooker; less than 15 minutes for two cups

You’re feeling really lazy. What kind of pizza do you order? Plain cheese is always my favorite no matter whether I'm lazy or not.

You feel like cooking. What do you make?  Something decadent and greasy and loaded with butter

Is there a food you refuse to eat? Ham

What was your favorite food as a child? Mac n cheese

Is there a food that you hated as a child but now love?  pinto beans

Is there a food that you loved as a child but now hate? Nothing comes to mind

Favorite fruit & vegetable: blueberries & brussel sprouts

Favorite junk food: Salt n vinegar chips

Favorite between meal snack: cheese

Do you have any weird food habits? maybe

You’re on a diet. What food(s) do you fill up on? salad and water

You’re off your diet. Now what would you like? those mini krystal cheeseburgers. no, a corn dog.

How spicy do you order Indian/Thai? mild to medium

Can I get you a drink? as long as its got a clear liquor in it; vodka, gin, etc.

Red wine or white? red

Favorite dessert? Pie, preferably coconut cream, but I might take key lime or something fruity like blueberry

death of a hand mixer

In a previous post I mentioned how I dread replacing appliances. That was the case with my hand mixer, too. I inherited an avocado-colored hand mixer from my mother when I moved out on my own in college. I had it until a year or two ago.

Granted, the occasions that called it out from the drawer were rare. Most mixing is done with the Kitchen Aid my mom gave me for Christmas the first year Ian and I were married. That was, and still is, my favorite kitchen appliance.  And then other mixing is usually split between my Braun hand blender or the regular old blender that most of us grew up with.

Somehow mixing butter and garlic in with the mashed potatoes is easier with a hand mixer, though often as not I grab my old-timey potato masher first. Potato mashers don't work on whipping cream. That's just a guess. I've not tried. But I'm too lazy to whip cream by hand.

Eventually that dear old avocado-colored hand mixer died. Mid-mix.  It struggled, emitted a dainty cough, and then died. I overwhelmed it's twenty-to-thirty year old motor with cookie dough, as I recall. Cookie dough is usually best left to the KA stand mixer, but I had not cleaned its bowl or mixer. The more utensils I dirty while cooking, the better I like it. Our arrangement is that Ian does most dishes and runs the dishwasher. I return clean dishes and utensils to their homes. And also do the majority of the cooking, lest you think this division of labor unfair to Ian.

While looking at toaster ovens we came across the hand mixers. I wanted to wait on purchasing one, after all, I've held off for almost a year on this already, but Ian pointed out there were only two pink ones on the shelf.

That's right. He said pink. And now, I'm the semi-proud owner of a pink hand mixer. Pink is way down on the list of colors I like. But its purchase supports breast cancer research. And it's different. It won't match the deep red walls of my kitchen, but it doesn't have to, since it'll be relegated to an over-full drawer.

Upon seeing the mixer out of the box Ian's main complaint was that its beaters are so fine. Not much lickable surface, not much batter will cling to those anorexic tines. And that means he'll lose out on batter.

My main complaint is it's digital control. Long gone are the days of controlling speed by moving my thumb up or down a notch. With that old button, I could take the mixer from zero to whip in no time flat in one smooth motion. But the digital control means I'll have to bump the speed up seven times with my finger to get from zero to whip. Progress is a bitch. And, it's regressive.

ladies love Paula

With holidays zooming up in no time, I've managed to kill three birds with one book: Paula Deen's latest book Christmas with Paula Deen: Recipes and Stories From My Favorite Holiday (2007). My copies arrived a few days ago. Haven't cracked a spine on a one of them to see what awaits the mothers in my life. Got one for my mom, step-mom, and mom-in-law. I hope they have sense enough not to go buy a copy for themselves. Paula is a perfect gift for Christmas. I've relied on her books and magazine subscriptions for several years now.

a different kind of turkey

Ian has a taste for whiskey and bourbon. I don't. Still, he compelled me to taste from a bottle of Wild Turkey American Honey. He found it extraordinary. As soon as the taste hit my tongue, there went my gag reflex. It's not a pleasant taste to me. I prefer clear liquors like vodka and gin. I appreciate the lovely colors of whiskey and bourbon and all those amber liquors, but can't stomach them. Must only admire them from afar. If there was any doubt, not a drop of Wild Turkey American Honey touched my hot tea.

Speaking of turkey, we're on our own for T-day. And that's perfectly alright with us. Last year was low-key, just me and Ian at home, feasting on our turkey with trimmings. And this year will be a repeat. We can't wait. Holidays are anxiety-filled for me because there's so much to do and so many personalities to tolerate.  We scoured the latest issues of Saveur, Bon Appetit, and Gourmet for all their t-day suggestions and found lots of dishes that appeal to us individually. So making a decision on our final menu will be tricky.

woe is my oven

For months now, getting the broiler to work on my wall oven is tricky. One night last week I decided on breakfast for supper. I fried my eggs, over-easy. I buttered my toast, put the slices on a cooking sheet, and opened the oven door. No heat. No light. No nothing. I over-cooked my eggs. And by the time I made toast in the skillet, they were cold. Not the most successful breakfast ever.

Fiddling with the thermostat resulted in more frustration on my part. Mostly the broiler doesn't work for Ian. He grumps about the problem, I walk over, flip the dial around a few times and the broiler works.

Not this time. My wall oven hates me. I love it though. It's original to the house. Think 1962 or 1963 24 inch stainless steel Fridgidaire wall oven. Nothing digital on it. Nothing fancy about it. I've baked, broiled, and roasted with it for almost ten years now.

Like all foodies, I melt at the sight of double wall ovens and viking ranges and perfectly constructed cabinets. But that is not my reality. My kitchen takes me back to the sixties each time I step inside one of it's doorways. And I wasn't born until 1971.

Ian and I went in search of a replacement part. FYI, the model number is: RBE-G94-1-CH. The thermostat is part number 5307522594. After all the visits to appliance shops and phone calls to appliance parts dealers in the Tri-Cities area we were told that the part isn't made anymore. But we knew that. We hoped that a used appliance dealer might have a circa 1960 Fridgidaire wall oven buried under a few Maytags, or something.

Neither of us want a new wall oven. I'm very curmudgeonly about my kitchen. If it isn't broken, I see no reason to buy something shinier and newer because it's available. And because that shows how upwardly mobile we are, or how much we wish to impress people with our cash outlay on stainless, high-end appliances.

Last night we looked at toaster ovens. We've wanted one for a while. We found one we like. We may buy it eventually. But spending less than $200 for a fabulous stainless toaster oven beats the pants off buying a completely new wall oven. Honestly, I LOATHE digital controls and displays. None of the new wall ovens do a thing for me. And we cannot afford another debt for a $1K to $2K wall oven. And our space is minimal, twenty four inches wide. Replacing the cabinets is completely out of the question. Practicing kitchen triage is so painful and filled with misgivings.

Eventually I'd love to redo our kitchen. Sure, I'd like to fill it with high-end appliances because I'll actually use them; they won't be just for show. I don't want to spend $500 on an okay-for-now oven that I may want to replace with something else down the road.

The worst part was visiting an appliance store and seeing all the fabulous kitchens on display. They reminded me of cooking show sets: Fabulous, immense, and tricked out to the max. At least we got estimates on how much a new ventilation hood costs. It works okay, but it's also circa 1962. One of its fans falters frequently.

persimmon possibilities

I haven't spent much time with A Love Affair with Southern Cooking: Recipes and Collections (2007) despite having a copy for weeks now. I browsed it as I ate cereal a few mornings ago and my fingers stopped on the page about persimmon pudding. Just so happens that I bought a persimmon a few days prior without any concrete plans for it. Anderson's persimmon pudding looked good, but I needed an entire cup of persimmon pulp.

Ian returned from the grocery store with several more persimmons in tow. His persimmon identification wasn't the greatest, so he asked the woman working in produce to corroborate the fruit's identity. She said what he held in his hand was not a persimmon. Soon they drew another produce worker into the conversation and she confirmed that Ian's selections were persimmons.

What appealed to me about the persimmon pudding was the information Anderson included about the fruit's endangered status. All around the south, farmland and orchards are gobbled up in the name of progress and development of McMansions for those people who simply cannot live in high-density, historic neighborhoods. Anderson only wrote about development and cited it as the reason for the scarcity of persimmons. Ahem, of wild persimmons. There are plenty of domesticated persimmons, but like most things, those in the wild have better flavor and more character than those industrially produced.

Growing up in a border state, as Tennessee is referred to since it's along the northern edge of the Mason-Dixon border, I never ate persimmons. Anderson's section on pulping the persimmon didn't help me since mine was unwild. She suggests rinsing the fruit, removing the stem and leaves, and pushing it through a strainer to free the fruit of it's skin.

Didn't work for me. I sliced the skin away and cut the insides into small pieces. I tasted one. Ew. Not that great. Kind of sweet followed by a painful bitterness on my tongue that caused me to spit persimmon pulp into my trash can.

Pounding my potato masher into the persimmon pieces didn't result in a mashed consistency, so i turned to my Braun handblender and mushed it that way. The other ingredients were butter, milk, flour, eggs, baking soda, cinnamon, and cloves.

I substituted several different sized ramekins for the 1 quart casserole dish Anderson called for in her instructions and placed them inside a water bath inside a larger casserole dish. It was my first water bath. I've never made cheesecake in that manner. It seemed too complex, so I avoided those kinds of cheesecakes. However, in this instance, it was not so bad, not traumatic a bit.

Ian was surprised that the persimmon pudding had to bake for an hour.  I read. He played a game on his hand-held gaming device. About a minute before the timer went off (it's portable and was next to me, and not in the kitchen), I returned to the kitchen, turned off the oven, and pulled out my casserole dish.

A small amount of batter ran over the edge of the ramekins, so the water bath water was murky and clotted. But that was no trouble. Extracting each ramekin was dicey. I didn't want to wet my oven mitt. Ian wandered into the kitchen. I found a spoon, and we both took bites.

It was like gingerbread lite. Like too subtle for our palates.  Where was the persimmon flavor? We were disappointed. But, other pudding possibilities came to mind immediately. Apples. Ian wanted apple pudding. I leaned toward pear. Who knows what we'll try? But at least we have a new baking technique to list in our skills section.

As for the Anderson book, I can't wait to read it's other sections. In the introduction she wrote that southern cooks emphasize sweets. Likewise, her book is heavy in the sweets/desserts. And that's quite all right with me.