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diy strawberry soda

Thinking about strawberry soda for Juneteenth made me realize I've never tasted it. Sure, orange and grape sodas were staples of my childhood, but never strawberry. Short searching brought me to use real butter who shared a strawberry syrup recipe from the food in jars cookbook. I know, so many links and layers: Like going down the rabbithole in Alice in Wonderland--all this for strawberry soda?

It was worth it. 

And so simple, too. 

The recipe was 2 pints of strawberries, 3 cups of water, and 2 cups of granulated sugar. For the recipe, refer to the use real butter website.

But I had 2 quarts of strawberries. I doubled the water and sugar.

I'm not scientific. I didn't train at any culinary school. Doubling usually works for me. It worked this time. use real butter's recipe yielded a quart/liter of syrup, while mine yielded almost half a gallon (the photo below is much less than half a gallon, I've made a LOT of strawberry sodas). 

I poured it into a glass gallon apple cider jar I couldn't throw out. I'm old, but not terribly old. Yet, one set of my grandparents lived through the Great Depression. I learned recycling and resiliency from the examples they modeled vis a vis their frugal lifestyle.

Confession: I hoard glass bottles, but maybe not because of why you think. When I find a framework I like, or construct one, I'll mount a bottle tree in my yard. Haven't decided whether front or back, yet. Bottle trees, if you don't know, are associated with the southern US. Empty bottles are stuck on limbs of a tree in a yard and they trap evil spirits around the perimeter so they don't enter your home. It originated in the Kongo and came to the US with slaves who were captured and sold. And, its practice spread with the African-American diaspora. It's a Hoodoo folk-magic belief.

I'll spare your eyes with my awful photos of processing the strawberries. user real butter's are better. 

Once your syrup is made, it keeps in the fridge for about two weeks. To made soda, mix sparkling/carbonated water, syrup, and ice in a glass at a ratio that pleases you. I do about half syrup to sparkling water, but Ian likes more carbonation. Plus, he really liked it. Reminded me of that old Life commercial. He likes it, hey Mikey!

As for the experience of drinking this strawberry soda. Well, it's simply delightful. I can't think of a better use for strawberries when they come into season. It's the most refreshing summer drink I've ever had. Other than a fruity cocktail. Homemade strawberry soda is a sweet taste that satisfies all your senses. 

Strawberry syrup opened my eyes to the possibilities of other fruit syrups and their use in drinks. Not thinking beyond drinks at this point. Mostly just sodas, cocktails, maybe a frozen-ish liquor drink, etc. I'm a thirsty woman. 

gluten is my bitch draft review appears from beyond

Backed up my iPad to the cloud yesterday pm and out of nowhere my original draft review of Gluten is my Bitch appears in my gmail inbox like Casper the Friendly Ghost and man don't watch the original version of that cartoon because the racist, sexist stereotypes make me want to censor my child's television agency and I'm not that kind of parent.

Wanna read it? 

Hands down Gluten is my bitch: rants recipes and ridiculousness for the gluten-free is the most irreverent guide to gluten-free cooking and eating I've ever read. It's also the only one. Can't claim to be late to the gluten-free party on this one. Gluten-free doesn't effect me, or my family, thankfully. Though secretly I believe it does.

You see the men in my life crap their pants. And I've always thought its just because they're men and men have inferior GI tracts. As Gaga says: Born that way.

My step-father farted constantly when I shared a household with he and my mom. Then at some point after my intended and I shacked up and lived together in sin he thought it was safe to let loose and it hasn't stopped since.

Lucky me.

I chalked it up to men and their sucky bowels. They're just meant to eat meat and be gone from home for great lengths of time with hunting parties so women don't have to smell their odiferousness,  right?

Naw. It's Gluten, baby. But see if I can sell the hubs on that. He doesn't have a rash and he hasn't lost a scary amount of weight. So maybe it isn't gluten after all those are only two of many symptoms April Peveteaux breaks down for readers in this totally atypical guide to celiac disease.

I've never read one before because they're lengthy, complex, & not relevant to my life. But April's tone is fun. Maybe it touched me a the right moment.  What's more fun to read than frequent reminders about crapping ones pants? Brings out the juvie in each of us.

Oh but wait. There are reasons other than suffering from celiac to go gluten-free like recovering from depression, brain fog, anemia, joint pain, mouth sores, acid reflux, anxiety, migraines, and other conditions. Who knew?

And that totally reminds me that one my friends' children has celiac. Kelly said integrating that into their family dinners hasn't been too tough, but in his classroom it can be dicey. April's chapter "Holy crap my kids a celiac" undoubtedly will reassure parents entering the celiac game at any stage.

The recipes look awesome. Didn't try them though because I don't have any gluten-free flours in my house. It appears though, for the most part, one could simply substitute gluten-free flours in ones old recipes. I know, but it's not so simple.

April shares several gluten-free cooking secrets like it takes longer for things to bake so make sure to really preheat the oven and others you'll not want to miss.

I think it's actually better than what I ended up writing/posting on Wednesday, but that's just me.

gluten is my bitch (uh, not just yet) (galley review)

So I reviewed this galley at least a month ago. Wrote it up all nice and pretty on my iPad and LOST the dread thing, somehow. And have been super lazy about the re-write. Re-creating it might be a bitch, to plcuk from April Peveteaux's title. But, perhaps I can improve upon my original.

Gluten is my Bitch: Rants, Receipes, and Ridiculouness for the Gluten-free is the first--damn, cannot use tome here, because this is a slim thang they sent me to review-- galley of this nature I've read. Of the gluten-nature, I mean. 

You see, my family and I are lucky in that we do not suffer from the celiac disease. Praise the Lord. But, there are ____ loads (insert shit before there, because as April drops the bomb so eloquently in chapter one "What to do when you're crapping your pants") of folks who do gluten-free by choice because of its many health benefits. Granted, I'm one of those who veer toward the gluten-free side just because it's gotta be better for you. 

April writes the blog Gluten is my Bitch. It came first, then the book. Sadly, I had not read her blog prior to reading the galley, but I love her voice. You will too. So energetic. How can someone weighed down with celiac disease pluse with energy and such be gifted with a flair for language? I mean, I suppose my notion of those suffering from disease is outmoded, cause April has killer energy, energy out the yang, and a level of happiness that just ain't natural. It's all those alt wheat flours she's injesting.

Heck April breaks it down for you anyway. Going gluten-free might help you with:

depression, brain fog, anemina, joint pain, muscle cramps, mouth sores, acid reflux, dental & bone disorders, neuropathy, exhaution & weakness, stundent growth, weight loss, fertitlity problems & miscarriage, anxiety, migraines, acne & eczema.

Gluten is my Bitch is a mix of memoir and recipes you won't want to miss. Amd, the cooking tips? Who knew all this mess about how gluten-free cookie batter sucks? Obviously not I.  And then there's the bit about having to preheat the heck out of your oven because gluten-free baked goods take extra long to cook. Seriously. I'm sure that you could learn all this in most gluten-free cookbooks, but you wouldn't have nearly as much fun.

Another jewel I learned is once you go gluten-free, you can still make most of your favorite recipes, but you have to substitute your nasty old shit-inducing flour for a sparkling new gluten-free kind and maybe add xanthan gum.

Or maybe I'm wrong.

So like when you make pasta, use gluten-free noodles. Right? Correct me if I'm wrong. Oh, and then adjust your cooking time per the cooking tip above that I revealed.

Given the sample of April's writing and recipes that I tasted in the proof her publicist from Abrams Books sent me, I gotta say that I love her voice and want to read more. Gluten is my Bitch is truly entertainining. April's voice is original. Her experiences in the kitchen, disco dance floorand elsewhere, will have you raising your rolling pins in gluten-free solidarity and clamouring for more.

Okay, one more thing, Gluten is my bitch is spot on for parents whose darlings have celiac disease. Chapter Six, "Holy Crap my Kid's a Celiac" walks newbie parents through the process, like the blood test, and then stocking your pantry, getting ready for snack-time at preschool, etc.

And there's a helpful sidebar for those terrifying moments at the crafts table cautioning you to always check the label on your kid's modeling clay, paper mache, finger paints, and play-doh, cause if they eat it, they'll have diarrhea.

smitten kitchen (book review)

Yeah, yeah, ever late to the party. The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook rocks, but you already know this, right? So I contacted SK's publicist ages ago (last fall) and received gallies and worked with the recipes for a few months and they're awesome. If you didn't buy everyone on your list a copy for winter holidays or mother's day, well father's day is coming up and there are always birthdays. And maybe it will be in paperback soon, or there's always the kindle edition, but who wants an eBook cookbook? not I. 

Deb Perelman's recipe's and photography are just that fantastic. You should own this book. Her pizza dough recipe is OUR house pizza dough recipe now. I've been making the dough recipe that accompanied my pizza stone a decade ago and once I tried hers, well, I'm never going back. For one, that recipe takes too long, and for two, her recipe is tastier. 

Her quick and dirty pizza dough recipe rocks, and honestly I always do that one. It's ready in less than thirty. But, she offers a longer one that you have to let rise for a Loooooooong time. But why wait? If you've got the time, I suppose you could do so. Like if you're also watching your grass grown in your yard. Whatever floats your boat. 

And I don't love popcorn, but her popcorn cookies are freakishly good. The popcorn and cookie combination somehow works. The cookie dough batter is irresistible. Just work up a batch of that and spoon it up. Slowly, while you watch your grass grown and wait on your pizza dough to rise. 

True confession: I rarely eat cookies, either, and I couldn't help but snarf these left and right one after the other. So, I actually haven't made them again, because both the batter and the finished product are too dangerous to my waistline. 

Since I had the gallies, the photos were in black in white, so I had to imagine how drool-worthy Deb's photos were, but since you're undoubtedly familiar with her blog & online presence, you can imagine the book's real beauty. After Smitten Kitchen Cookbook appeared at bookstores I leafed through a copy and yeah, it was tremendously well-produced. Lovely paper, typography, and photography. 

Why are you still reading this blog post? Buy a copy, or three, already. 

I received gallies of this book from her publicist, just to let you know, so I'm in accordance with the new FTC regulations, but otherwise, I received no other form of compensation for this review. It's just what I do. I love to read. I love to write. I love to eat. Sometimes cook. And I love to share my opinion.

white jacket required

One of my favorite kinds of culinary memoir to read is what I've dubbed the "corporate-to-culinary" or "grey-suit-to-toque" realizing where one's true passion and/or vocation lies. But Jenna Weber's White Jacket Required: A Culinary Coming of Age Story departs from that right out of the oven, because she bypasses the corporate job entirely. Instead of seeking a Fortune 500 job after graduating from the College of Charleston she heads straight for Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Orlando, Florida and is up to her elbows in Meat Fabrication before she can say "not by the hair of my chinny chin chin." 

Another odd thing about Weber, who is decidedly NOT odd as you get into the meat and potatoes of her memoir and learn about her life, is that she isn't going into debt at Le Cordon Bleu to have kitchen underlings snap to and say "Yes, Chef!" and "No, Chef!" at her every whim. Her culinary aspirations are writing about food, not creating it or serving it. 

She wants to do it well, and with authority. And so she seeks a chef's education and this basis for understanding her subject in a way that many food writers do not. Certainly we must admire and respect her for her noble goal. It's an approach I would take if I was young, unmarried, childless, and at the beginning of my career. 

A glimpse at her daily life reveals her mornings at culinary school interspersed with evening shifts as a hostess at a restaurant, negotiations with her childhood friend and roommate who is attending police academy, and occasional dates with her long-time---and older boyfriend-- with whom she has a committed and long-distance relationship with. 

What is a typical day, or course at culinary school like? Undoubtedly each person's experience is different, colored by her personality, classmates, instructors, the setting, and the events culminating in her life. So while Weber captured many typical scenes you might expect, such as hours spent in commercial kitchens replicating recipes until they were perfect, or taking copious notes as her instructors lectured, or working in teams with classmates with whom she got on well (or did not), there were many details specific to her life that make White Jacket Required a timeless rendering of a woman's journey seeking identity. Another thing we learn about Weber is her determination. She takes up running despite the excruciating pain it leaves her body in. She plows through and continues running. With such moxie and determination, readers understand that Weber will easily make it through Le Cordon Bleu and any other trial she must overcome.

Weber's skills improve as we read each chapter, but ultimately she discovers that the Culinary Arts program leaves her dry. Dealing with meat and the other portions of the curriculum leaves her dispirited, and it's not sinking her hands into the bread making course that her spirits rise and she finds her passion. Fortunately, she easily switches to the Baking and Pastry Arts Program and though she has many challenges to meet, she does so readily and cheerfully. 

I loved reading about the time she spent in Napa, which she writes about near the end of the book. And since it's where she currently lives it's nice to know that dreams do come true, smiley face, smiley face. 

Dozens of recipes are tucked within the book's chapters. I made First-Day-of-Class Biscuits because I had a yen for biscuits and the recipe intrigued me: pastry flour in biscuit dough? Granted, I have Nathalie Dupree's mammoth book on biscuits, Southern Biscuits (As If there are Western Biscuits, Northern Biscuits, New England Biscuits? Pah.) but haven't made any from it, yet. These were so so. I credit my failure as a biscuit maker rather than Webber's recipe. And, that I used unbleached whole wheat flour. I don't stock any other kind in my larder. Somehow biscuits don't taste as yummy unless they're made with bleached flour; simply my preference for incorporating more healthy ingredients in my home.

Weber's publicist shared the recipe for Pumpkin Whoopie Pies which she said was available for reprint, so I'm sharing it herein: 

Reprinted with permission from White Jacket Required: A Culinary Coming-of-Age Story © 2012 by Jenna Weber, Sterling Epicure, an imprint of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.

Pumpkin Whoopee Pies
By Jenna Weber,
Author of White Jacket Required: A Culinary Coming-of-Age Story

Makes about 18 whoopee pies

These cookies are very rich, almost like a cupcake, so I suggest saving this recipe for a special occasion or a rainy afternoon. The cookies are best the day you bake them; if you keep them for too long they will become a bit gummy and soft. They would also be perfect with cream cheese frosting in the middle, or on their own, sprinkled with a dusting of powdered sugar.

For the buttercream filling

1 egg white

2 tablespoons milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups powdered sugar, divided 

¾ cup shortening

For the cookies

2 cups brown sugar 

1 cup canola oil

1½ cups canned pumpkin 

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract 

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder 

1 teaspoon baking soda 

1½ teaspoons cinnamon 

½ teaspoon cardamom

¼ teaspoon ground cloves

¼ teaspoon ground white pepper 

1½ teaspoons ground ginger

Make the filling: In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, combine the egg white, milk, vanilla extract, and 1 cup of the powdered sugar, then mix on high speed until the mixture is creamy and light. Add shortening and remaining cup of sugar, and whip on high speed until very light, about 8 to 10 minutes. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 325°P. and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Make the cookies: In a large bowl, blend together brown sugar and oil with a spoon until well combined. Add pumpkin, eggs, and vanilla and continue to stir until smooth.

Sift together flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and spices, and then add to the wet ingredients, stirring only until combined (be careful not to overmix).

For best results, spoon batter into a piping bag with a large tip and pipe mounds of batter (about 1 tablespoon each) of batter onto the lined sheet tray, about 3 inches apart. (If you don't have a piping bag, use two large spoons and space the batter in the same way.)

Bake cookies for about 10-12 minutes, until they begin to turn golden. Let cool completely before sandwiching cookies together with the filling.

Cookie sandwiches will keep in a sealed plastic container at room temperature for a few days.

The above is an excerpt from the book White Jacket Required: A Culinary Coming-of-Age Story by Jenna Weber. The above excerpt is a digitally scanned reproduction of text from print. Although this excerpt has been proofread, occasional errors may appear due to the scanning process. Please refer to the finished book for accuracy.

Reprinted with permission from White Jacket Required: A Culinary Coming-of-Age Story © 2012 by Jenna Weber, Sterling Epicure, an imprint of Sterling Publishing Co., Inc.

Author Bio
Jenna Weber, author of White Jacket Required: A Culinary Coming-of-Age Story, is the author of the highly successful food blog Eat, Live, Run. In 2007, she attended Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Orlando, Florida. White Jacket Required is her first book. She lives in San Francisco, California. Go to www.eatliverun.com for an up-to-the-minute look at Weber's world of food.

For more information please visit http://www.eatliverun.com, and follow the author on Facebook and Twitter

I received a review copy of Weber's memoir from her publicist, just to let you know, so I'm in accordance with the new FTC regulations, but otherwise, I received no other form of compensation for this review. It's just what I do. I love to read. I love to write. And I love to share my opinion.

making piece, bring on the pie

Every few chapters or so Beth M. Howard alluded to her pie crust recipe, mentioning how it was a simple ratio, not even a recipe. How, it's not even complicated at all, that you follow a few guidelines, and voila, you have pie crust. She wrote about flour and fat and water and salt I kept waiting for a semi-exact recipe to appear, since it was a book about pie memoir.

And since she learned it from a retired pastry chef from the merchant marines... omg, what a story. What a recipe! It's a great as all the recipes I never learned from my grandfather who was a cook in the Navy. Wonder if he can recall any of those? Interestingly he did all the scratch cooking at his house while my grandmother cooked from cans and boxes, except for her pineapple upside down cake. I don't think he ever naked. Mostly he cooked savory. But I digress...

Sometimes I surprise myself by my reading habits. Used to be I was impatient and flipped back and forth in a book. As a teen I skimmed a book's last page or too, just to be bitchy, but that was was fiction. In reading Making Piece: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Pie I expected recipes and thought they'd appear randomly inserted between chapters. Must be having a mid-life moment because I failed to turn to the back of the book to check for recipes. They were there!

A good deal of the book isn't so much about pie, though it is a central and recurring theme of the book. It's about Beth Howard and how she killed her husband. Oh, I'm being dramatic. She thought she killed him. He was a hard-working German man whom she never saw. She desired a more intimate relationship, but that wasn't possible because he loved his work more, perhaps? She asked him for a divorce and he keeled over: Read the book. Imagine an irreverent Year of Magical Thinking meets American Gothic, Road Rules, and my favorite-- pie. Howard lives in the American Gothic house, don't you know? Ultimately pie is what keeps Howard together. It keeps her sane. It gives her something to focus on. It is her passion. And she follows where her passion leads her. 

Making Piece serves as a manifesto for grievers everywhere: Immerse yourselves in pie-baking and you will know peace (and piece, may I slice a piece of peace for you?). It's an interesting concept, pie baking as a balm for grief. Howard followed her bliss, made pie documentaries, judged pie baking contests at the Iowa State Fair, traveled across the country in an RV, and landed in Iowa, a few miles from her childhood home, near the Dibble House, in which she resides and operates a pie stand, Pitchfork Pie Stand, summer weekends.

Following her, and her dogs, on this transformative adventure zig-zagging through several states--Texas, Oregon, California, Arizona, and Iowa is never boring. What I loved the most is her idea that "the world needs more pie." Pie making, eating, sharing as a means of world peace. Lovely sentiment. I agree. Can't we all just get along, bake pies, eat pies, and live in harmony? Read Making Piece, it's a lovely book with pie deep down at the heart of it all. 

Normally I'd be at the American Library Association's (ALA) annual conference in June, which is in Anaheim this year. And guess who sits on a panel? Beth Howard. Would be lovely to meet her, but I won't be going to ALA this year because we had unexpected things come up (like Ian's hospitalization) and no money to go. Drat. Another time. Maybe I can wrangle a [work] trip to Iowa later this summer and pony up to the Pitchfork Pie Stand for a personal pie of my own.

I mentioned a few posts back that I'd grown ovaries and decided to make pie crust from scratch rather than rely on my old standby the Pillsbury pie crust from the dairy section of the grocery store (although sometimes I use another brand whose name I've forgotten, it's wholesome and organic and is stocked at Earthfare, my favorite place to shop, and no, they don't pay me to endorse them). And Howard's crust was the main contender for such a pie crust. 

Working it up was easy enough. Getting it to tacky stage was....meh. What do I know from scratch pie dough? But who cares? Because what does it matter, really? At the Southern Food Writing Conference I attended a few weeks back in Knoxville, Nathalie Dupree talked about wasting the makings for biscuits, just a few cents, really, and what does that matter in the long run, when it comes to building the best darned biscuit you can? So, my mindset changed thanks to Dupree, and experimenting with pie crust to get it right isn't such a big whoop. Or is that whup? 

Nevertheless, after dividing my dough into two balls and rolling them out, one did better than the other, so the better of the two I used for the base dough and the worse of the two I let Elsa cut with cookie cutters to make a "fancy" top instead of a full top. My favorite pie is peach, blackberry, and blueberry. Can't recall if I've shared the recipe here before. And I'm never exact with it--with exact ingredient amounts, anyway.

The worst part about making the pie crust was that my head was pounding as I mixed the shortening and butter and flour and "fluffed" in the ice water. But, we were invited to a Memorial Day barbecue and I didn't want to arrive empty handed. I wanted to bring pie. The guy who invited us, a dear old friend whom Ian and I have known since sixth grade, was an Air Force veteran, and it turned out that his father was, too. So I was doubly pleased to have made pie for these two men and their family. We also had strawberry shortcake and banana pudding. So quite the triumvirate of desserts that day!

8 or 9 organic peaches, peeled and sliced thinly

pint of blueberries, washed & picked over
smaller container of blackberries (1/2 pint) I didn't pay attention, washed & picked over
1/2 cup of flour
1/3 cup of sugar
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon candied ginger
1T freshly squeezed lemon juice
1T butter 

Preheat oven to 450 F.

Combine the fruit in a large bowl. Add flour, stir together. Add sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, stir well. Add candied ginger and stir well. Pour contents of bowl into pie shell and distribute evenly in shell. Sprinkle lemon juice over filling. Slice pat of butter into small pieces and distribute evenly around pie.

Then at this point you'd top with another crust or do a criss-cross crust, etc. Or if you had a very wide in circumference bottom crust, you could fold it over the filling in more of a rustic pie-type style.

Bake for 35 minutes with crust covered with aluminum foil so that it doesn't turn too dark. Then remove foil and bake for another 10 minutes (45 minutes total), or until crust is the shade that you prefer.

Luckily my forgetting to throw in the dash of salt didn't have any real effect on the crust's taste. There was less than a piece that we brought home. But, I must do better at perfecting my crust-making skills by the next pie I make. 

Because I am a major pie fan, and I love memoir, and this book featured two of my most favorite elements, I contacted the publisher and they sent me a review copy of Making Piece. Just letting you know, so I'm in accordance with the new FTC regulations, but otherwise, I received no other form of compensation. 

cruze farms & southern food writing conference

No way was I missing out on a field trip to Cruze Farms. Their buttermilk was hyped so much during the Southern Food Writing Conference that I wanted some of that for myself.

I can't recall the last time I was so motion sick. I was so glad to be off the tour bus. I was hot. I thought I might vomit. No buttermilk cocktails were offered on this jaunt. Boooo.

So Cruze Farms was an oasis of dairy delight after being cooped up on a miserable rocking tour bus. It is an oasis no matter what circumstances brought you there, mind you. The farm is located inside Knoxville city limits, but falls within the historic (think National Register) Riverdale community, one of the oldest parts of the county first settled given its prime location at the crotch of the French Broad and Holston Rivers. Just not enough occasions to use the word crotch.

Although dining at Blackberry Farm was a once in a lifetime experience, being at Cruze Farms was like coming home, even though most of my farm experience is recent and equine in nature. I could have spent all day there. We were treated to hoecakes hot from the griddle which we drizzled or drowned with as much honey as we could stand. Jaanki flipped the hoecakes and I chatted with her a bit later, after the freak lightening storm popped up. Turns out she spent time growing up in Johnson City, so we were on the same plane comparing notes with that. 

The longest line was for buttermilk biscuits. Oh. My. Golly. Had to be the best biscuits I've ever eaten in my life. They were HOT out of the oven and ooooozzing butter. It was one of those die-and-gone-to-heaven biscuit experiences. Better than the ones at the Loveless Cafe. Hmmm, trying to think of other places where I've had stellar biscuits. Cracker Barrel's are fairly good, actually. Where else? I make darned good shaggy biscuits. And I learned a thing or two about biscuits from Nathalie Dupree and Cynthia Graubart from their panel at the conference. 

Pair all that biscuit eating with samples of buttermilk and the one percent (I think?), and the chocolate, that I didn't sample. Despite my chocolate aversion, I would have drank the chocolate milk if Cristina made another round offering them. She didn't. Her primary role as milkmaid came to an end when the thunderstorm hit. 

Ayaka was busy scooping salty caramel ice cream when the downpour hit. Everyone scrambled to squeeze under the two tents, but I sought cover under the farm-shed close to where Cristina doled out the milk, which was well protected and gave me a birdseye view of everything. 

The rain and the lightening turned our biscuit party into a danger zone given the electrical cords and other items that could easily shock any of the Cruze farm workers if they stepped in the wrong direction. Colleen scrambled, shoving the tent covering Ayaka closer to the shed I sheltered in so that there was no gap to let water cascade down her back. Alas, Ayaka was drenched, but she cheerfully kept scooping while Cristina, in the true spirit of teamwork, held the roof of the tent so that it would not drip water down Ayaka's back.

As soon as everyone had adjusted for the storm, it stopped and the sun shone almost immediately. Emma left the protected cover of shelter and offered everyone a biscuit. She helps Colleen assemble the buttermilk biscuit dough. What a charmed chore that is! Lucky girl.

While some may think that a thunderstorm "ruined" the biscuit party, I don't. It offered a lovely interlude. Mother nature is unpredictable. Learning to roll with it offers the best learning environment for everyone. As far as I can tell, all were in good spirits. The storm cooled the day and offered visitors a memorable experience. 

Going on this field trip was part of the Southern Food Writing Conference that I paid for so in accordance with the new FTC regulations, I received no other form of compensation for the udder love and affection I show for Cruze Farms and their bovine products. 

sweet home

Raspberry jam bars, brown sugar glazed cardamon cake, pistachio lover's pound cake, best bran muffins, secret-ingredient vanilla cupcakes, anna banana muffins, and crunchy lime mint cookies are just a few recipes within Sweet Home that I marked as "must-tries."

What I tried first were the best bran muffins, and they were frickin' fantastic. What surprised me first of all was that Rebecca Miller Ffrench had me use two cups of bran cereal as the first ingredient. I didn't find it at my hippie grocery store, so I used wheat bran instead, and the recipe turned out perfect.

The story Ffrench tells alongside this recipe is how she received a bran muffin recipe from her aunt Susie one birthday. Susie shared how the bran muffins sustained her family through tough times. Thus Ffrench relates how the sentiment plus the recipe meant much more to her than any material gift ever could, and she suggests this practice as one that we establish within our circle of friends and family to give gifts that are more memorable than material. 

I'm just dipping into Sweet Home, but it's gorgeous and one of those books easy to curl up in bed with and page through night after night. Philip Ficks is the photographer and Roscoe Betsill was the food stylist. They're as much to applaud for the lovely aesthetic of Sweet Home as French for her ideas.

Too many thing have kept me from the kitchen of late, so I hope that this weekend--a long holiday weekend--I can cross off a few of those items I mentioned at the top, especially the cardamon cake. Cardamon floats my boat.

By the way, according to the new FTC regulations, I received a review copy of this book from the publisher, Kyle Books, but received no other form of compensation. 

miette's gingerbread with cream cheese frosting

Before I selected this recipe from Miette, I made sure to read the eratta that came out a bit after the book was published. There were a few errors. I printed it and tucked it into the back of the book for future reference. I was tipped off by the Food Librarian who received a new book from Amazon. Since my review copy came from the publisher, I was not so lucky.

Another gorgeous cookbook with scalloped edges, floral green and white endpapers, glossy pages, and pink, green, and black fonts. Photography by Frankie Frankeny details the steps in icing the Tomboy Cake, the perfected mass production of pink meringues, and droplets of dew beading blueberries in the fresh fruit tartlettes, and then some.

But, instead of making the cake, I decided to whip up cupcakes to share with my librarians. We meet each Wednesday morning as part of our website redesign and we take turns bringing goodies to share to make the work more pleasant. Since I'm not cooking much at all, other than the occasional bit of pasta for Elsa and I for dinner, and I've been dying to try a recipe from Miette for ages now, the gingerbread filled the bill. 

Especially since it's made with Guinness. Naturally, when I bought the six pack I ran into a relative with whom I go to church and I felt as if she gave me the MAJOR STINKEYE about the Guinness in my cart, even though she didn't say a word about it. It's not as if I declared "The Guinness is for cooking" cause, y'all know I'm well over the legal drinking age, and as an adult it's not like I need to justify anything to anybody.

Although that's just what I did. Shoo. I swear. Must be living in Appalachia. Or just going to a family/community church. But she lives clear over in Virgnia and it's not like I expected for her to be 50 or 60 miles over in my town shopping at my hippie grocery store anyway!

Enough said. I love cooking with beer. I think that's my calling. Beer cakes, beer breads. The yeastiness is something to behold. 



The preparation is similar to the Nigella Lawson Guinness chocolate cake that I love making wherein you combine beer with other items and let it warm in a large saucepan, stirring regularly, not letting it stick to the bottom, get overheated, etc. etc.

Plus, you'd think I'm such a beginner in the kitchen. And sometimes, I think I am. Instructions said to fill the cupcake liners with 1/2 cup of batter and be done. And that's good news to me because I usually overfill. It's that stomach bigger than the eye dynamic. Then my cupcakes expand and bake well over the liner or cupcake cup/holder, whatever you like to call them. 

I'm not an expert at cupcakes. Nor at icing, either. I'm not a perfectionist. Styling a plate so that it looks picture perfect doesn't make my day. I'm more interested in how it tastes. Because plenty of things look pretty but don't taste worth a hoot. As you can see, my attempt at icing failed. I used my pastry bag with one of the nozzles. It was my first time! Ugh. Such a failure. I need lessons.

Next time I'll use a ziploc bag and no nozzle. Because actually I practiced this technique two weeks ago with deviled eggs at my sister-in-laws house. Her deviled egg mixture was very moist and had to be piped into the eggs whereas ours is usually thick and scoopable. So after an egg or two I had this technique down. Yet in these days of such specialization I know I can easily find a cupcake icing apparatus if I google such a creature. Dare I?

However, the icing was yummy: Typical cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar, and I added a smidge of peppermint extract. Or no, was that some other cupcake I made? 

I'm easily confused. 

Whatever. Regardless, the gingerbread was awesome. The recipe is a keeper. The cupcakes grew moister each day I kept them under my glass cake keeper. The blend of so many spices is key. And my use of Penzey's cinnamon (and I forget which one I used, exactly, because I have several blends) is really what made it's flavor so stellar. 

And, I can't credit any foodies for turning me on to Penzey's. It was my knitting guru who introduced me to their fantastic products a few years ago. Yep. Awesome how serendipity plays it part.

So. Miette, from trying one recipe, I'm hooked on the cookbook and other than running my fingers along that sensual die-cut scalloped edge, I'll be flipping through the pages looking for more more more and cooking up more more more!

paris, my sweet

Imagine having a job that assigned you to Paris for two years. If dreams can come true, the did for Amy Thomas because she indulged in the City of Light's most fabulous chocolates and pastries for a year, or more while working on Louis Vuitton's advertising campaign. She writes about this year of hardship in Paris My Sweet: A Year in the City of Light (and Dark Chocolate). While I don't live and die for chocolate, I DO love all things Paris. Probably not as much as Thomas does/did. But, I can live vicariously through her, at least.

In thirteen chapters Thomas tours would-be tourists through Paris's chocolates, bonbons, cupcakes, macarons, cakes, cookies, madeleines, muffins, carrot and banana cakes, and whatever else she encounters. Recently reloacted from New York, much of what she writes compares Parisian trends to New York trends, and so this book could be useful for those with eyes for the Big Apple as well.

Even though cupcakes are so "over" you'll find them on every corner of NYC. She mentions Beyond Magnolia, Buttercup, Billy, and Sugar Sweet Sunshine. But also says that when you stand on a corner watch out for cupcake trucks--CupCake Stop. Paris boasted four or five shops such as Cupcakes & Co., Berko, Synie's Cupcakes, and Sugar Daze and Sweet Pea Baking. 

But what's really valuable about Thomas's book is the context she provides. So, if you didn't know the backstory on Magnolia Bakery and how its former manager left to open his own near replica, then you might learn a thing or two. But, that's a NY tale, not Parisian. So while there are some NY tales, most of it is Parisian based. While exploring Paris she blogged about it too and shared all her new finds with the world at large.

The terrible thing about the book is that I want to sample everything Thomas writes of. And can't. Must travel to Paris. And that's the one thing I truly hate about yummy food books: Reading about buttery croissants and then being unable to try one for myself. Thomas has a keen eye and nose for the best combinations of flour, sugar, and eggs. 

Thomas mentions the typical Parisian frostiness and how impossible it was making friends. Eventually she found her place with a group of expats. But then a large decision loomed: Spend another year in Paris, or return to New York? Her priorities changed while she lived there, and New York wasn't as appealing as when she left it. Yet, she didn't feel as though she belonged in Paris 100 per cent, either. What to do?

Deciding where her heart and where her life belonged sent her into a lengthy list of either-or questions and answers. But you'll have to read the book to learn her ultimate decision.

Sidebars at the end of each chapter list her picks for shopping for the best chocolates, pastries, cakes, cookies, etc. and a full list of Paris and New York bakeries with addresses, phone numbers, and websites precede the index.

The color map illustrations of NY and Paris spots Thomas recommends on the front and rear flyleaves by Gary Hovland lend the book a delicious je ne sais quois!