tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26399585338581530882024-03-13T21:00:03.619-07:00Gluten Free Dogs and PeopleLisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-51446544608184265782011-02-16T16:13:00.000-08:002011-02-16T16:13:31.185-08:00Moving Day! Join us at Gluten Free Canteen!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FbxQDV00hDk/TG8Z-dMAdgI/AAAAAAAABZs/6-eCQ9x-dI4/s1600/lisadishesB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FbxQDV00hDk/TG8Z-dMAdgI/AAAAAAAABZs/6-eCQ9x-dI4/s320/lisadishesB.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Hello GF Peeps! </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> <a href="http://glutenfreecanteen.com/">http://glutenfreecanteen.com/</a></b></span>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-45037860185576591572010-12-15T20:51:00.000-08:002010-12-15T20:51:19.294-08:00A Merry Holiday Multiple Personality Gluten-Free Butter Cookie<div class="pd-rating" id="pd_rating_holder_3257236_post_129" style="display: inline-block;"><span style="clear: both;"></span><div id="PDRTJS_3257236_post_129_msg" style="float: left; padding-left: 5px; text-align: left;"> </div><img alt="Quantcast" border="0" height="1" src="http://pixel.quantserve.com/pixel?a.1=p-18-mFEk4J448M&a.2=p-ab3gTb8xb3dLg&labels.1=type.polldaddy.rating" style="display: none;" width="1" /></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=pinwheelcookieB-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" class="aligncenter" height="333" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/pinwheelcookieB-1.jpg" width="435" /></a></div>Right now there are four kinds of cookie dough chilling in the refrigerator and some will be relegated to the deep freeze so that we can enjoy holiday treats well past Christmas. In February when the skies are gray and the ground is soaked with endless rain, there is nothing like the smell of gingerbread boys baking up in the oven to warm the soul.<br />
<br />
All this annual cookie lollapalooza-ing began because this little Jewish kid got a taste of the holiday tree trimming and brightly sparkled cookies one Christmas when she was 5 years old. And though I didn’t get a stocking filled with treats that year although I begged, I did add a festive and cookie filled Christmas, sans the religious part, to my <em>things-I–will-do–when-I-am-all-grown-up</em> list I kept in my kidlet head. The list was varied; I never did get to fly on a spaceship with Major West from Lost in Space, but I eventually did get to make all the holiday cookies I wanted.<br />
<br />
From the first year we lived on our own, I happily embraced the other festive holiday tradition aside from latkes and made more Christmas cookies than the bakery down the street. Even having to live gluten free didn’t stop me.<br />
<br />
A big fan of bakery butter cookies, and the store brand, Stella D’oro, I wondered for years how they got those little confections into those spiffy shapes. And then one day I learned about cookie presses and rushed right out to find one. I’ve gone through several varieties including the spiff-o-matic electric thing, and I’ve come back around to the simple cheap manual press. Once a year I drag out the tattered box and set out to make fabulous copies of my favorite bakery and Stella D’oro treats. And every year I end up with something slightly the same only different.<br />
<br />
I am not organized. If it weren’t for my blog, I might never remember the recipes I create. I write them down as I bake and promptly do something stupid, like forget to label the paper with what the cookie is, or even that it is a cookie. I put it in the junk drawer only to find it years later with no recollection of what the list means, if I can even read the bad penmanship at all. Sometimes I put it in a special place where I am sure not forget it. I still can’t find any of those. Other times I write notes in a cookbook when I modify the recipe with annotations that make perfect sense at the time. And later, reading them over, I’ve no idea what “yippee” means next to baking soda.<br />
<br />
Consequently, I redo the whole recipe deal every year and search for something that sounds right, or a new one that seems improved. And then I mix it up a little. But I warn you. Recipes are fluid and meant to evolve. So don’t be surprised if I make the same thing next year, but it is slightly different. Try it.<br />
<br />
Multiply the recipe to accommodate larger batches. You can store the extra dough in the refrigerator for a few days and in the freezer for quite some time. Bring to a chilled room temperature before using. Happy baking!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=sprtizcookiepinwheelrecipe-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" class="aligncenter" height="346" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/sprtizcookiepinwheelrecipe-1.jpg" width="474" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Gluten Free Black & White Butter Cookie Dough: Spritz, Pinwheels, and Thumbprints</strong></div><strong><em>Almond & Vanilla Dough</em></strong><br />
<ul><li>2 sticks room temperature unsalted butter (1 cup)</li>
<li>¾ cup ultra fine sugar or 1 cup sifted powdered sugar</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla</li>
<li>½ teaspoon almond</li>
<li>1 egg</li>
<li>295 grams gluten free flour (no gritty stuff because it has no place to hide) about 2 and a scant ¼ cup</li>
<li>1 teaspoon xanthan gum</li>
<li>½ teaspoon baking powder</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
</ul><strong><em>Double Chocolate Dough</em></strong><br />
<ul><li>2 sticks room temperature unsalted butter (1 cup)</li>
<li>1 cup ultra fine sugar or 1 cup sifted powdered sugar</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla</li>
<li>½ teaspoon almond</li>
<li>1 tablespoon strong coffee (leftover from the morning joe)</li>
<li>295 grams gluten free flour (about 2 and a scant ¼ cup)</li>
<li>1 teaspoon xanthan gum</li>
<li>½ teaspoon baking powder</li>
<li>½ cup unsweetened cocoa sifted (your favorite)</li>
<li>½ cup of melted bittersweet chocolate</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
</ul>Blend together the flour, xanthan gum, salt, (cocoa for the chocolate dough only) and whisk to lighten.<br />
<br />
In a stand mixer, cream butter and sugar until pretty. Add the flavorings and the egg. On low, mix in the flour (and cocoa) until blended. Finish incorporating with a spatula and don’t over mix. For the chocolate cookies, add in the melted chocolate and blend in thoroughly with a spatula.<br />
<br />
Bake each at 350. Makes at least 3 dozen per recipe.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>Spritz</strong></em><br />
Using parchment paper, place a long-ish rope of dough toward the edge of the paper and like roll up like sushi, into a sort of log that is slightly less than the width of the cookie press tube.<br />
<br />
Refrigerate (or freeze) until ready to use but at least two hours. You want the butter to chill thoroughly.<br />
<br />
Take one log or two logs at a time out of the refrigerator and as soon as it is workable stuff into the press and pop out designs on silpat or parchment sheets. They won’t spread much so you can get a lot on one sheet.<br />
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Add decorations, like sprinkles or colored sugar, cherries, or chocolate chips now. Bake 5 minutes and rotate. Bake for about 4 minutes more. You want the light cookies just very lightly browned and the chocolate are better slightly less brown.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Black & White Pinwheels</em></strong><br />
Roll the plain and chocolate dough separately to the same size on parchment paper. Place one on top of the other and roll them up with the aid of parchment paper (the dough is sticky) as tightly as possible. Refrigerate overnight for best results. Unroll the dough and slice at ¼ inch intervals with a very sharp knife. Place on silpat or parchment and bake about 10 minutes depending on thickness. Rotate and bake about 5 minutes more or until the plain dough is slightly brown on the bottom.<br />
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<strong><em>Thumbprints </em></strong><br />
Scoop dough by teaspoons size and roll into a ball. Place on silpat or parchment lined cookie sheets and with your index finger, press a dent in the center. Refrigerate about an hour before filling and baking. Fill with jam (about a ¼ teaspoon) or a chocolate chip or two, or candied cherries, or nuts or crushed peppermint candy canes. Bake about 5 minutes and rotate. Bake about 4 minutes more.<br />
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Cool and eat. Store in separate tins.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=cookieforLu-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" class="aligncenter" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/cookieforLu-1.jpg" /></a></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-24373915711761977512010-11-24T16:13:00.000-08:002010-11-24T16:18:09.020-08:00On Thanksgiving, I am Grateful for You<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=boysluluphoebe-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img alt="Photobucket" border="0" height="291" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/boysluluphoebe-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>grateful - the little reminders</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">To my virtual and otherwise embodied friends & family:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I know that so many of you are going through challenges, that 2010 has been a year filled with anxiety and questions, largely without answer. To say that this past year has been full of underwhelming hope and disappointing results is an understatement. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I am proud to be your friend. Honored, actually. If anything, I’ve learned from each of you a great deal about humility, grace and how to operate with compassion when life is dealing a hand that should be tossed back into the pile of discards. Not once did you complain and say your plight was unfair. Mostly you said that you were still better off than so many others and that it was just time to muster up more patience and fortitude.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sadly, one of you folded your tent before anyone could reach out and grab your hand, leaving us breathless with grief and questions without answer. We kept going anyway, missing you every single day. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then there are those of you who can make even the most unfortunate event seem like a glass half full. You’ve no idea how much your attitude catches on and makes life bearable and even inspirational for so many more around you. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ve watched some of you invent great alternate universes that keep the sanity alive. I’ve watched some of you create some innovative solutions to ordinary life altering issues. I’ve seen some of you march forward with enough chutzpah to lend some to others who are in need. I’ve seen some of you part with precious gifts just to make the world a better place all the while dealing with a pile of things that would undo an ordinary soul.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You are some of the most brilliant people on this planet. Keep marching. Keep on speaking. Keep on being who you are. That’s all. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In gratitude I say, pie for all.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And thank you.</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-37060668322004660492010-11-22T20:39:00.000-08:002010-11-22T20:42:48.784-08:00A Very Gluten Free Thanksgiving<span class="share" style="text-align: right;"></span> <br />
<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="><div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"><fieldset><div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <br />
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Holiday food memories are like a family photo album with scratch and sniff pages. Ask anyone about their earliest Thanksgiving memories and chances are it is a combination of the Macy’s parade and the smell of yams with toasted marshmallows or pumpkin pie. Then again, some of us might only remember Uncle Zeke’s shiny flask filled with something that added a certain charm to the boring punch bowl filled with preseason eggnog.<br />
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My brother reports that we always had a Thanksgiving dinner growing up; that the Ad Man recited the same typed poem/prayer of thanks each year. But I cannot muster up one solitary memory from childhood about the holiday. There aren’t even any family photos from Thanksgiving to use as a memory crutch. I’m puzzled that the guy- the Ad Man- who photographed anything and everyone would skip a major holiday opportunity. I suspect that we actually ate liver and onions for Thanksgiving and that is why I’ve blocked out those early years.<br />
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My Thanksgiving memories actually begin when I was a 17-year-old bride attending the famous holiday feast with combined families at the newly minted in-laws. Just because it was Thanksgiving and the new lemon loving in-laws were hosting my father and stepmother, assorted siblings and guests meant there was <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">something</span> nothing to be nervous about. The gathering would take place in their beautiful colonial on a wooded lane where the neighbor parks his helicopter. Perfectly Norman Rockwell – in theory. Spending most of that memorable holiday with a “nervous” stomach ailment was mortifying. The Ad Man even rustled up the family doctor by phone who diagnosed “stomach ache”. It would still be years before the gluten intolerance diagnosis, but I was suffering all the way back then.<br />
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Since that Thursday 30 something years ago, we’ve spent some happy and almost pain-free Thanksgivings with the in-laws. We came to enjoy the time together and I prepared in advance for the onslaught of not feeling well by keeping a giant assortment of stomach remedies in my bag. It also helps that we avoided mingling the two entire families ever again after that first crazy year.<br />
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That first memorable in-law Thanksgiving Day is where the early hints that gluten was not my friend were apparent. Those “stomach aches” that everyone assumed were merely stress related were pain inflicted by the invasion of wheat, barley and rye making me sick. And Thanksgiving dinner is nothing without a pile of stuffing, freshly baked rolls, pies and even those awful green beans drowning in mushroom soup and topped with fried onions; lots of wheat.<br />
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These days we prefer a small holiday dinner. Neither of us enjoys turkey so we feast on a chicken or duck and after the gluten diagnosis we avoided stuffing, but now that we have access to some great gluten free breads, we indulge this one time of year. Loading up on fresh veggies, lightly sautéed and seasoned along with the chicken makes for a wonderful feast and none of the stress, physical or mental.<br />
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My favorite stuffing is Stove Top (quit snickering). It was a sad day when I realized I couldn’t eat it any longer. And there are those that subscribe to more is better, loading up the savory bread with chestnuts, apples, nuts, sausage and other little goodies. I like the old original version with a little sautéed celery and onion, seasonings like sage, thyme, (poultry seasoning), salt and pepper and moistened with chicken broth and butter. Tossed lightly and either served from the pot or a casserole that bakes to make the top a bit crunchy.<br />
I worked on this version until it tasted quite similar to the old Stove Top and nothing makes me happier.<br />
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On this holiday, I salute the long gone Ad Man, the long gone family doctor who meant well more than he was accurate, and the fabulous house that was on the lane with the helicopter pad. We raise our glasses in a toast to our younger selves – and say a small hallelujah that we got this far in one piece to enjoy our gluten free holiday feast.<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=stuffingB-1.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" height="331" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/stuffingB-1.jpg" width="428" /></div></a><b>Gluten Free Fabulous Stove Top Stuffing</b></div><i>Savory Cubes</i><br />
<ul><li>Ends of old loaves of gluten free bread (variety is good), cubed into ½ inch pieces</li>
<li>Olive oil</li>
<li>Herbs and spices: thyme, chopped sage, poultry seasoning, a pinch of rosemary, salt, pepper</li>
<li>Butter</li>
<li>Chicken broth</li>
</ul>Cube up the bread into ½ inch pieces. If you have the opportunity, leave it out overnight uncovered to dry out a bit. Otherwise just proceed after cubing. The prep and recipe are very flexible and resilient. In a large bowl combine a couple of tablespoons of olive oil and enough herbs/spices to make your nose tickle. Add the cubes of bread and fold gently (don’t break up the bread) to coat. If you need more just drizzle and fold.<br />
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On a lightly oiled baking pan (I use a half sheet pan size) lay out the cubes about one layer high (you will have a small pile). If there is too much use a second sheet.<br />
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Place in a preheated 350 oven for about 15 minutes. Turn the oven to 300 degrees and bake for about 35 minutes. You want the cubes to toast and dry, but not burn. Turn the oven off and don’t open it. Leave the pans in there for as long as you are able – overnight is great. You want them as dry as possible.<br />
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When completely cooled store in a double zip-lock bag or container and refrigerate. Because they have so much oil in them, you don’t want it to get rancid before you use them all.<br />
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<i>Gluten Free Stuffing</i><br />
<ul><li>6 -8 cups of stuffing cubes</li>
<li>2 ribs celery chopped to a medium fine dice</li>
<li>½ onion chopped to a medium fine dice</li>
<li>½ stick butter</li>
<li>Poultry seasoning to taste</li>
<li>Salt and pepper to taste</li>
<li>Parsley (until it looks pretty)</li>
<li>½ cup gluten free chicken broth (and more if needed)</li>
</ul>Sautée celery and onion in butter and oil mixture over medium low heat. When very soft add the spices and stir. Take stuffing cubes and place in a bowl. Drizzle the softened mixture over the cubes and fold in being careful to not break up the cubes. Add broth until just moistened. Place in a buttered casserole dish and cover with foil. Bake at 350 for about 20 minutes and uncover for an additional five to ten minutes.<br />
Just remember that the whole thing is adjustable to your own tastes – add more or less spicing, veggies or broth.<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=pumpkinpieB-1-1.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" height="333" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/pumpkinpieB-1-1.jpg" width="442" /></div></a><b>Gluten Free Drunken Pumpkin Pie</b></div><div><ul><li>One gluten free pie crust: Whole Foods or your favorite recipe</li>
<li>One 15 oz. can of organic pumpkin</li>
<li>1 cup of half/half</li>
<li>½ cup of milk</li>
<li>4- 5 tablespoons of really good whiskey</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla</li>
<li>½ cup of superfine sugar</li>
<li>¼ cup of maple syrup (the real stuff)</li>
<li>3 eggs</li>
<li>Ground ginger, a pinch of ground clove, a bit of cinnamon and a large twist of the black pepper</li>
<li>A ton of whipped cream</li>
</ul>Preheat oven to 325. Bake pie shell (9”) for about 20-25 minutes or until lightly brown.<br />
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Place the other ingredients (except the whipped cream) in a large bowl and whisk together until fully incorporated. Add as much or as little of the spices as you like – they mellow with time so more is actually better. The black pepper is an old trick (not mine) that seems to provide a happy back note to the whole thing.<br />
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Pour through a mesh sieve into the pie crust and bake for about 55 minutes, checking at 45 minutes. The center should be slightly wiggly. Do not fret if cracks form (although they should not) because you can cover them with whipped cream when serving.<br />
If you have the time, leave the mixture to sit for about 30 minutes to mingle before pouring into the shell. Even better – bake the pie the night before because it tastes best the 2<sup>nd</sup> day after the flavorings and whiskey have a chance to hang out together. Store in the refrigerator but take it out about 30 minutes before serving for best flavor. Pile on the whipped cream and enjoy.<br />
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Happy Gluten Free Thanksgiving!<br />
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*cross posted from my new food blog at Wordpress: <a href="http://glutenfreepeople.wordpress.com/"></a></div></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">http://glutenfreepeople.wordpress.com/</div><span id="reader_tags"><a class="tagit" href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/11/22/a_very_gluten_free_thanksgiving#" id="edittags"></a></span>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-36857765393400762542010-11-16T15:06:00.000-08:002010-11-16T15:06:19.275-08:00You Know You Want One: Peanut Butter Buckeyes<div class="rate clearfix"><span class="share" style="text-align: right;"> </span> <span></span></div><form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/11/15/you_know_you_want_one_peanut_butter_buckeyes#">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <br />
<div> <div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=buckeyesone-1.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" height="330" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/buckeyesone-1.jpg" style="border: 0pt none;" width="433" /></div></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>fully dressed little peanut butter buckeyes</em></div><div style="text-align: left;">Even though most of our street celebrated Hanukkah, there were neighbors and friends who brought us homemade holiday food gifts and by far the favorite was chocolate peanut butter fudge. If candy were currency we kids would have been able to pay off the mortgage with the amount that we hoarded. We were allowed to buy candy with our allowance, but rarely was any sweet stuff purchased by our mom; Brach’s Bridge Mix was for, well, bridge games. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Halloween was the most important holiday of the year and none of us failed to fill up pillowcases filled with goodies. We were only interested in the good stuff which would have been by today’s standards, enormous chocolate bars and peanut butter cups.</div><div style="text-align: left;">At an early age I fell in love with the partnership of anything peanut butter and chocolate. It was limited to Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups when I could afford them with my allowance.</div><br />
Syracuse is not all that far from Ohio yet I never knew a buckeye was anything but a tree thing until I saw the recipe on <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/10/buckeyes/">Smitten Kitchen</a>. How did this confection remain off my sweet tooth radar? For God’s sake – it has peanut butter and chocolate, two of the holy grail candy ingredients.<br />
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Smitten Kitchen was borrowing from the <a href="http://bakednyc.com/">Baked boys</a> and that version has cream cheese and graham cracker crumbs. I wondered how the origninal Buckeye candies were prepared.<br />
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A Google search came up with a zillion recipes and mixed reviews as well as several techniques. <br />
</div><div>The common complaints turned out to be rather simple. People had an expectation that mixing up butter, peanut butter, powdered sugar and flavoring and covering it with chocolate could be done by a door knob. <br />
Even the most simple looking confection requires a little skill, practice, and attention to detail. Chocolate seizes – it doesn’t harden, or the inside mixture crumbles if too dry, or oozes condensation if too wet and messes with the chocolate coating. All things chemistry have to coincide to make it work. Though it isn’t rocket science, it is the kind of thing that takes a bit practice and patience. <br />
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I might find darker creamy peanut butter next time. When the ingredient list is that small, the main character, peanut butter, needs to be stellar and taste deeply roasted. I used organic (ordinary) peanut butter from Whole Paycheck and it isn’t peanut-ty enough. But that might just be me.<br />
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But about one thing everyone agrees - be careful. They’re addictive.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=buckeyestwo-1-1.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" height="363" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/buckeyestwo-1-1.jpg" style="border: 0pt none;" width="458" /></div></a>happy little (linty) buckeyes </div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Peanut Butter Chocolate Buckeyes</strong></div><ul><li>3 cups sifted organic powdered sugar</li>
<li>1.5 cups creamy peanut butter</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla</li>
<li>1 stick unsalted butter, softened</li>
<li>1 teaspoon flaked salt (you want salt that will dissolve)</li>
<li>1 bag (12 ounces) bittersweet chocolate chips</li>
<li>1 tablespoon Crisco or other shortening</li>
</ul><div style="text-align: left;">Prepare a large baking sheet with a silpat or parchment. Sift the sugar into a large mixing bowl (I used a stand-mixer). Drop in the peanut butter and butter. Set the mixer on low until the sugar is incorporated and then turn it up just until everything is fully mixed. With the mixer running on low, slowly add in the salt and vanilla.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Using a tablespoon scoop, place on the cookie sheet until you’ve used all the mixture. Form into round balls. Keep your hands clean and a little moist with water and the rolling will go smoothly. If you start to build up the mixture on your hands, the balls will get slightly linty (see photo).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Once done, set the pan in the freezer. You can leave it overnight but you will want to cover it with foil. Right before dipping, in a small bowl over a tiny pan of simmering water (tiny tiny simmer!) melt the chocolate with the Crisco. Once melted, stir until fully dissolved. Cool slightly.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Using toothpicks or forks, dip each frozen peanut butter ball into the chocolate, let it drip a bit and place on the frozen cookie sheet; it helps set the chocolate faster. Either cover them entirely with chocolate or just leave a little “buckeye” peeking out.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Freeze or refrigerate. And serve cold – straight from the freezer or refrigerator.</div><div style="text-align: left;">And watch them disappear!</div></div></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-90534069388373118232010-11-04T17:15:00.000-07:002010-11-04T17:15:38.563-07:00Dear Insurance Company: Really?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VMSHeXVvN10/TNNMJIx1eQI/AAAAAAAABcU/2PzIjglSydI/s1600/Sinus+endoscope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VMSHeXVvN10/TNNMJIx1eQI/AAAAAAAABcU/2PzIjglSydI/s320/Sinus+endoscope.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">avoid this!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">Even the fancy aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies doesn’t banish the persistent ode-de-stink; nothing like the imaginary smell of an old wet down jacket or stinky boot-liner to clog up the sinus.<span> </span><span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Battling an ongoing sinus war is certainly not a good way to enjoy the beautiful fall weather.<span> </span>Oh wait.<span> </span>At 85 degrees things are continuing to bloom long since past their prime; including mold and fungus which accounts for the spectacular Petri-dish fusion up inside my head.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">For going on a decade I’ve lived with the persistent muse called sinus fungus that mimics a sinus infection.<span> </span>In fact there is more research these days that points to fungus being the culprit of more sinus problems than infections as once thought.<span> </span>Antibiotics, while effective for treating real infections, only provides a better playground for the other stuff once the good bacteria are wiped out in the grand slam from the pharmaceuticals.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With some spot treatment over the years, most times I am adept at handling the August/September onslaught of allergies and can keep invasion of the clinical mud room in my sinus to a minimum.<span> </span>But once it takes hold, the battle begins.<span> </span>I bring out the McNeil rinses, the sprays, the OTC Claritin, and a huge pot of chicken soup.<span> </span>In some cases it requires a battlefield of little soldiers called antifungal that attack the monsters hiding deep inside my breathing passages.<span> </span>I take no prisoners and take the battle seriously because I want them gone.<span> </span>Banished.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Only a few times during the decade, (ok, a few more than a few) have I had to succeed to intervention on the part of the torture machine inside my ENT’s office.<span> </span>It is with mighty fortitude and the promise of a good fine red wine afterward that I even get near that contraption.<span> </span>If you’ve seen one, you know what I am talking about.<span> </span>Think Dyson, made especially for the sinus; only the wand is longer than one is tall.<span> </span>Impossible it would seem that it would not go straight into one’s brain, but the Doctor is quite skilled in not poking a hole into the tiny bit of gray matter that remains intact at my age.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After one treatment, I once waited to faint until I was outside his office because I was too embarrassed to do it inside.<span> </span>That required not only copious amounts of wine, but some very fine dark chocolate to rid me of that nightmare.<span> </span>That is why, the actual incentive why I try valiantly to take care of it myself with all the tools at hand – at home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I finally ran out of the antifungal meds and now with a new insurance plan find myself perplexed at how they are so stingy with the cheap ass drugs.<span> </span>First they would not allow the doctor’s prescribed dosage saying it was too many.<span> </span>I am supposed to take the stuff for a few weeks at a time – but the insurance company insists I cannot take more than two weeks.<span> </span>Of course I don’t remember them conferencing in on my doctor’s visit, but apparently they were there in spirit.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Trying my best to not get too upset with their machinations, I relented and went for the copious refills allowed at the first moment possible.<span> </span>And that was nixed as well with the slap that one treatment is plenty and the drug is not for chronic issues.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh, really?<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So, now the Pharmacy has to submit a form from the doctor that double pinky swears that I really need this cheap ass medication that costs less to buy than the fax machine and man power it will take to give uber special permission to use.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Got that?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Good.<span> </span>Welcome to our health care system, revised.<span> </span>Let’s just say it needs some fine tuning.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And let’s just wish my visiting fungus a fond farewell, just as soon as I get my medication once again.<span> </span>Meantime, I am parceling out the last doses like they are the very last pieces of dark chocolate on earth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Thank you, health care company.<span> </span>So glad to have you in my corner, all the time, 24/7 and making sure my treatment fits YOUR guidelines.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I never knew you cared so much.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VMSHeXVvN10/TNNMQ6T4YUI/AAAAAAAABcY/Yq8E78Gn5VU/s1600/healthcare.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VMSHeXVvN10/TNNMQ6T4YUI/AAAAAAAABcY/Yq8E78Gn5VU/s320/healthcare.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-65289852134056423782010-09-27T10:39:00.000-07:002010-09-27T10:39:53.249-07:00Book Review: Gluten Free Girl & The Chef<fb:like action="like" class=" fb_edge_widget_with_comment fb_iframe_widget" colorscheme="light" font="verdana" href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/09/23/book_review_gluten_free_girl_the_chef" layout="button_count" show_faces="false" width="100"><span class="share" style="text-align: right;"><!-- <a class="myyahoo" href="http://add.my.yahoo.com/rss?url="> </a> --> <!-- <a class="buzzit" href="#"> </a> --></span><span></span></fb:like> <form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/09/23/book_review_gluten_free_girl_the_chef#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VMSHeXVvN10/TJvpIxs3y3I/AAAAAAAABbE/jpTlGuQU3LI/s1600/51qTMtqKSGL._SL500_AA300_.jpg"><img alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VMSHeXVvN10/TJvpIxs3y3I/AAAAAAAABbE/jpTlGuQU3LI/s320/51qTMtqKSGL._SL500_AA300_.jpg" /></a></div><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <div style="text-align: center;">my new <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gluten-Free-Girl-Shauna-James-Ahern/dp/0470419717/ref=sr_1_1?s=gateway&ie=UTF8&qid=1285294646&sr=8-1">favorite cookbook</a></div><br />
It took three days to pore through the entire book because I’d stop and savor the recipes and the stories. Or I'd have to go into the kitchen to check for ingredients of everything I was planning to make from the book.<br />
<br />
But after cooking along with Shauna and Daniel through their<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_616776986"> </a><a href="http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/">blog</a>, Gluten Free Girl and the Chef over the past years as they created this book, I almost feel like a proud distant relative as do many of their other faithful readers.<br />
<br />
That feeling of comradery shouldn't be a surprise to other people who also must eat gluten free. Gluten free people often feel a kinship when they meet others like themselves. It’s like showing up for the Bar Mitzvah and finding out that the special meal you had to special order was made for two other people too; you all end up at the same table, grateful for one another’s company.<br />
<br />
But this book is so much more than that. They’ve raised the bar on gluten free cooking and baking, making it as mainstream and fresh as it can get. Each recipe is gluten free, but not taste free. Each recipe comes with a story, a background, and a history and through that you feel like you want to recreate it right now. I almost didn’t get past the first recipe – the baked eggs with taleggio cheese because I wanted to run right into the kitchen and bake that dish. It was ten o’clock at night and common sense won, but I still will be hunting down a good ripe taleggio this week for baked eggs this weekend.<br />
<br />
For once, a gluten free book is not laden with recipes that try to imitate gluten baked goods or food. It is a book about real food including an introduction to all kinds of flours that go into baking and cooking gluten free. Shauna and Daniel introduce readers to a fabulous array of great flours and how to mix them together for different types of food.<br />
<br />
They also introduce the concept of weighing ingredients for a variety of good reasons – not the least of which is that all flours are not created equal. One cup of superfine brown is not the same as one cup of sorghum flour and your results will suffer if you merely substitute cup for cup.<br />
But if you are no stranger to their blog, you already know this. I am grateful that all the recipes offer weights because I have given up the measuring cups for everything dry and most other ingredients. (Another proponent of weighing ingredients is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Crispy-Crunchy--Your-Mouth-Cookies-Medrich/dp/1579653979/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1285294709&sr=1-1">Alice Medrich</a> whose Chewy Gooey Crispy Cookie book is due out in November- she offers some gluten free recipes in that new book).<br />
<br />
The Ahern’s are also fans of fresh ingredients. Over the past two years in our house, we have been working to buy locally and as fresh as possible. I really like that they emphasize that in their book, and how to make choices about what to buy at the market just in case this is new to the reader. They lead gently with such kindness that any reader would feel confidence in following.<br />
This book certainly changes the landscape for any other gluten free cook books to follow. No one would feel deprived or feel like they were on a special diet when cooking from this book. Instead of looking for this cookbook in the special diets section, I would hope it is shelved in the mainstream cooking section under a category called something like, smashing success.<br />
<br />
I’ve already incorporated many Gluten Free Girl and the Chef recipes into my own cooking and baking. <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/2010/04/06/gluten_free_rocky_road_bars">Gluten Free Flying Rocky Road Squares</a> use Shauna’s <a href="http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/gluten-free-graham-crackers.html">gluten free graham crackers</a> for the crust, and a gluten free adaptation of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Crispy-Crunchy--Your-Mouth-Cookies-Medrich/dp/1579653979/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1285294709&sr=1-1">Alice Medrich’s</a> Rocky Road Bars from her Cookies and Brownie book. Last night I par boiled some Yukon potatoes in an ocean of salted water with a little fresh thyme and garlic, drained them thoroughly and baked them until they were crispy on the outside, and soft and perfectly salty on the inside. All thanks to their instructions in the book.<br />
<br />
Anyone gluten intolerant or living with celiac disease needs this book on their bookshelf, but I would also buy this book for anyone, living gluten free or not, who loves to cook and bake – it is that good.<br />
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I'm off to the kitchen to bake a one bowl wonder; chocolate peanut butter brownies from their book. After all, I still have a cupboard full of good chocolate to use up so I can make room for at least four new flours.<br />
</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-53144971300248166602010-09-21T12:14:00.000-07:002010-09-21T12:14:35.313-07:00School Night Chopped Salad<div class="rate clearfix"><span class="share" style="text-align: right;"> </span> <span></span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">It isn't like when we were kids and the streets were jammed with marauding school children swarming down the sidewalks, metal lunch boxes in hand, dressed in new clothes heading for the first day of classes. </span></div><form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/09/20/school_night_chopped_salad#">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> These days the first sign that school is truly back in business around here is the monumental traffic jam early in the morning. Lining up to spit out the kids are the mini vans, giant SUVs, and the ever more present limousine and Bentley, though the schools do ask parents to refrain from the delivering children in the latter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">By the time I arrive, the coffee shop is packed with moms (and some dads) who have finished the morning drop-off and gym routine and are taking a java break before speeding off to the next errand. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">My favorite coffee hangout, which always does a brisk business caffeinating the Geek Squad around here, is regularly jammed after school begins. There are no solo tables available from 8AM to 10:00AM and everyone shares space. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Recently hearing a collective murmur of “what’s for dinner” I replied with some smarty pants remark like ask Martha Stewart. Forty one eyeballs (someone had an eye patch) turned to me and I’d be dust if those glares were lasers. I never did that again – but I was ready the next time to win friends and influence mothers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">This time when they got around to the predictable dinner discussion, I said to no one and everyone, chopped salad with chicken. This time, no eyeballs turned to laser me into dust and eye-patch-mom was fully functional again. One cup of coffee later, I heard conversations around me mention salad fixings and that Trader Joe’s sells things already chopped, even the chicken. I was not exactly winning friends, but I was influencing people. One out of two isn’t bad that early in the morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Let’s try it here. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">What’s for dinner? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">How about chopped salad with chicken? And don’t go buy those veggies already chopped – it is easier and less expensive to do it yourself on the weekend. Roast a chicken on Sunday, chop up most of the veggies at the same time (after the farmer's market sojourn) and you can have dinner ready for Monday, a side dish on Tuesday and lunch on Wednesday. That leaves only two more weekdays to worry about and that my friends, is success for a very busy household. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Chopped salad used to be that oddity on the menu which usually meant the end of the ice berg lettuce with bits of tomato tossed in for color, and everything swimming in a sea of bottled Italian dressing. No more. These days chopped salad is making an improved appearance everywhere. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">There is a chopped salad that I wait for each springtime at a favorite restaurant and hope that it is on the menu once the early spring vegetables have hit the market. It has a tiny bit of dill, some of those first baby peas that are actually green and sweet, some freshly blanched fava beans, and all kinds of other goodies. Once I see it on the menu, I hit the farmer’s market or the best grocer’s produce section and buy a smattering of all the newly minted goodies. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">But other times of year I still crave a good chopped salad so we go with what’s ripe and local. Sometimes we will have tiny pieces of freshly roasted beets, a little bit of blanched chard, and other times, just a variety of peppers, tomatoes, artichokes hearts, avocado, cukes, and herbs along with the freshly chopped varietal greens which always include nutty arugula, baby spinach and anything else that is fresh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Add in a little bit of leftover chopped roasted chicken and some hearty provolone or fresh mozzarella cheese sprinkled with grated asiago and it’s a meal. A very pretty and very filling meal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The key is to find stuff that is in season and local which is always cheaper, fresher, and way better tasting. Take a walk around the weekend Farmer's Market to see what is in season right now. Avoid produce from the grocery that is trucked from far away, if you can, because it is picked for shipping, not flavor or freshness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Dressing? Just a little bit goes a long way. You want it to dress up the chopped stuff, not drown it. I’d recommend your favorite homemade or artisanal vinaigrette. Add an extra drizzle of your most special olive oil over the top and a smattering of freshly ground pepper and et voila! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">I'm patient. Perhaps soon, instead of the dinner murmurs at the coffee shop, someone will start a conversation about dessert. I have 750 different ways to mention chocolate.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="saladchopped2" height="263" hspace="5px" id="cid_793231" src="http://open.salon.com/files/saladchopped21284950464.jpg" width="368" /></div><div align="center"><strong>Chopped Salad with Chicken</strong></div><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">(Suggested) Ingredients </span></strong><br />
<ul><li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1.5 to 2 cups of finely chopped leftover roasted chicken</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">12 cups of mixed greens moderately chopped into ½ inch dice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Fresh or roasted red pepper ¼ inch dice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 cucumber ¼ dice (no seeds)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 tomatoes chopped (seed them) ¼ inch dice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 carrot peeled and ¼ inch diced</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Jar of artichoke hearts cut into ¼ inch dice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 cup of cheese ¼ inch dice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh dill</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Sprinkle of fresh thyme</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Other favorite veggies, either ¼ inch diced or finely chopped</span></li>
</ul><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Directions</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Prepare the chopped items and store overnight in the refrigerator separately (if you are working ahead). To assemble, drop everything into a huge bowl and give it a good toss. Add in tiny amounts of the vinaigrette until the salad just slightly glistens. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Portion out four hungry person servings (or more not so hungry person servings) and add a sprinkle of grated cheese, a splash of really good olive oil and a dash of freshly ground pepper. Croutons are nice but not mandatory.</span><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Optional (diced) items</span></strong><br />
<ul><li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Charcuterie </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Hardboiled egg</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Other cheeses (goat cheese is great)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Cured olives</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Other herbs</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">apple or pear</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">nuts</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">dried fruit</span></li>
</ul></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-65473600802458578482010-09-15T15:46:00.000-07:002010-09-15T15:46:45.095-07:00Merci à Ma Belle-Mère with Rainbow Birthday Cookies<span class="share" style="text-align: right;"></span><span></span> <form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/09/12/merci_ma_belle-mre_with_rainbow_birthday_cookies#">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/family%20pics%20for%20Ruthe/?action=view&current=karletc-1-1.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" height="226" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/family%20pics%20for%20Ruthe/karletc-1-1.jpg" width="363" /></div></a> <div style="text-align: center;"> <em>my college graduation: Ad Man, Step-Mom & future Rabbi </em><br />
</div><br />
As a half-orphaned 12-year-old, I grew five inches, several pounds, one or two shoe sizes along with a few other assorted things that branched out during the year I spent with the widowed <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2010/01/05/open2010_adas_brownies">Ad Man</a>.<span> </span>When my soon to be step-mother arrived on the scene I was ready for a makeover from gawky child to ever more awkward and sullen adolescent.<span> </span>My shoes were way too tight, my clothes were slightly small, and my very first training bra had long since navigated past safety pin RX.<br />
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I am pretty sure the woman took one look at me, grabbed the Ad Man’s credit card, shoved me into her car, and took me to the best department store in the city.<span> </span>The Ad Man had probably exaggerated his fairy tale wealth and so she assumed buying the best (read: expensive) stuff would be a no brainer.<span> </span>Too bad he blanched to the shade of winter blizzard white when she showed him our loot.<span> </span><br />
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The outing was to buy a complete makeover ensemble for their nuptials – something that hopefully would not embarrass anyone.<span> </span>The idea was to start with the first layer and move on out to the stuff people actually would see.<span> </span>Until she took me to the department called foundations (which is now affectionately called lingerie) I had no idea that underwear came with so much hardware.<span> </span>We left there with two complete matching sets of stuff with enough wire to build a bicycle.<span> </span>But not before I was mortified beyond reason by someone called a fitter who actually makes you stand there naked and measures you from more angles than I thought possible on one teenage human body.<span> </span><br />
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We left the store that day with all the layers to completely transform me into a young lady, or a newly minted secretary as played by a giant 12 year old; the outfit was a tailored suit with little black pumps.<span> </span>My face said kid, but my outfit said dictation. <br />
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Fortunately my step-mother also knew that stopping by the Snowflake Bakery on the way home to bring the Ad Man a special treat would probably soothe his shock at the final tab for all the fabric it took to make me presentable.<span> </span>I was allowed to get some of my favorite things which amounted to a <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2010/06/24/half_moon_cookies">half moon</a> treat along with their famous rainbow cookies.<br />
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Just to make sure I had my role in the newly formed family pretty well nailed down, I did what any self respecting hormonal teenager would do.<span> </span>I perfected sullen.<span> </span>Even on their wedding day, banished to the end of the one of the long tables, far away from the happy couple, I undoubtedly did my best pouting teen look for the audience of none.<span> </span>Self involved teenagers rarely know that the world is not watching them, especially at an occasion where they are not the star of the show, like a wedding.<br />
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I am not even sure she remembers this early getting-to-know-you-through-undergarment-before-the-wedding shopping escapade.<span> </span>But it was a beginning I’ll never forget, and have come to treasure as the years fly by.<span> </span>It has been many decades now and today she celebrates a very big birthday that comes after 30 (plus four more decades).<span> </span>If the old Snowflake Bakery were still in business I might buy her a little pastry and tell her that having her as my second mom is my lucky fortune, wired undergarments or not.<br />
<a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=rainbowjudycookie.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/rainbowjudycookie.jpg" /></div></a><div style="text-align: center;"> <strong>Judy's Birthday Rainbow Cookies </strong><br />
</div><strong><em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Ingredients</span></em></strong><br />
<ul><li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 to 2.5 packages of (fresh) almond paste (about 16 ounces total) </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">4.25 sticks of unsalted butter</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 cups white (ultra fine works great) sugar</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 teaspoons almond extract</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">splash of vanilla</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">pinch of salt</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 teaspoons xanthan gum (for gluten free flour only)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">3 cups of gluten free flour or all purpose flour</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">8 eggs</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">about 25 drops of red and green food coloring (each)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1.5 - 2 jars of dark red jam (seedless is best)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">pinch of your favorite liquor, Godiva, Cherry or whatever smells good </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">12-15 ounces of really good quality bittersweet chocolate</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 tablespoons corn syrup</span></li>
</ul><div style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><strong><em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Directions</span></em></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Preheat oven to 350. Butter and line three jelly roll pans with parchment that overhangs slightly. <span> </span>Butter parchment. <span> </span>Set aside.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Mix almond paste with sugar in a food processor thoroughly. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">In a stand mixer, incorporate the butter, almond/sugar. <span> </span>Add eggs one at a time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Whisk flour, xanthan gum (for gluten free flour only) and salt in a bowl. Add to wet mixture until incorporated. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Separate batter evenly into three bowls.<span> </span>Add green food coloring to one bowl, red in another bowl and leave one without color. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Spread each batter in your prepared pans. Bake about 12 minutes total and rotate half way. Let cool completely.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Heat jam until liquid. Add liquors to taste. Strain if necessary & cool to room temperature.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Loosen edge of green cake. Lift parchment slightly so that it is free, but keep it in the pan. Spread thin layer of jam on top.<span> </span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Loosen edges of the layer that is not colored. Flip layer onto layer with jelly using parchment to help. Gently push it into place. Spread jam on that layer.<span> </span>Place the last layer on top as evenly as possible. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Cover final layer with clean parchment. Wrap the whole thing in plastic wrap. Place a large cutting board on top to weigh it down. Set aside two hours or more. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The Finish</span></em></strong></div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Break up the chocolate and melt it in a double boiler over barely warm heat, stirring occasionally. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">When almost melted turn off the heat. <span> </span>Stir in corn syrup. Let chocolate cool slightly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Trim the edges of the cake with a serrated knife.<span> </span>Drizzle half the chocolate over top and spread. Refrigerate about 15 minutes to set the chocolate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Place a piece of clean parchment on a large baking sheet. Place that on top of the chocolate coated side and in one movement, flip over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Peel off parchment. Drizzle remaining chocolate to the edges. Refrigerate until set.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Use a serrated knife or a very small sharp knife to cut the cookies into small squares.<span> </span>Tastes best the next day after liquor and other flavors fuse.<span> </span>They keep well frozen, or at room temperature in a tin for about a week.<span> </span></span></div><br />
Happy <a href="http://www.mathcats.com/explore/age/calculator.html">36.8 Million minute</a> birthday, Judy!<br />
</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-36128836361016217862010-09-09T20:43:00.000-07:002010-09-09T20:43:30.264-07:00It's Summertime and the Catalogs Are Caroling Their Wares: A little fun<div class="rate clearfix"><span class="share" style="text-align: right;"><br />
</span> <span></span></div><form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/09/08/its_summertime_and_the_catalogs_are_caroling_their_wares#">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=santa-july-christmas.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photobucket" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/santa-july-christmas.jpg" /></div></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <em>hey WS, <a href="http://www.mimifroufrou.com/scentedsalamander/2009/08/do_you_think_were_seeing_a_chr.html">santa</a> needs a vacation, too </em><br />
</div><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=williams-sonoma.jpg"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></a><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>The mailbox is beginning to overflow with holiday catalogs even while the temperature is a toasty 89 degrees outside.<span> </span>While we are still eating freshly picked corn on the cob, summer berries, and enjoying perfectly vine-ripened tomatoes, a faint <em>fa la la la la</em> is dressing the covers of most incoming catalogs.<br />
Perhaps the holiday catalogs are arriving earlier with hope that we will be fooled into thinking that gift shopping days are running out.<span> </span>I've been peeking, and some of the most famous and once upon a time, sane cookware sellers have lost their ever loving collective minds.<br />
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It was always a treat for those who love cooking to see what new gadgets were emerging or what new pans might be available.<span> </span>But I’m afraid that this year, we are seeing an entirely new beast.<span> </span>This is the year of “say what the hell is that?” and holy craptastic. And why would anyone want that thing in their kitchen taking up valuable real estate?<br />
<a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=board.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Photobucket" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/board.jpg" /></a><span> </span><br />
For the sale price of $99 you can own your very own monogrammed cutting board.<span> </span>One of those giant wooden boards with a well around the edge to catch the meat juices now comes with your very own initial carved in the center of the board.<span> </span>But does it come with a little brush to clean into the deep crevice of letter W?<span> </span>Or perhaps Uncle Ernie is carving and he could give a rat’s ass about your hoity toity monogrammed cutting board and makes that fancy letter C turn into a somewhat awkward letter E?<span> So much for the sharp edge on that knife, by the way. </span>Monogrammed cutting board, Chuck?<span> </span>Seriously.<br />
<a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=img45m.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Photobucket" height="115" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/img45m.jpg" width="144" /></a><span> </span><br />
The All Clad Deluxe slow cooker comes with an insert that is stove-top ready.<span> All that deluxe-quality for $300. </span><span> </span>Rumor has it that they finally upgraded the stove-top deluxe insert so that it <a href="http://reviews.williams-sonoma.com/3177/all-clad-deluxe-slow-cooker-with-aluminum-insert/reviews.htm">quit peeling</a>.<span> </span>Let’s have a little insert with our stew, shall we?<span> </span>And here’s the part where it wins the stupid award; you can't brown anything in something with sides that tall.<span> </span>If you drop stewing meat in the bottom, it will steam, not brown on the stove-top.<span> </span>They sell the same slow cooker with a ceramic insert that can't go on the stove-top but it can go in the dishwasher.<span> </span>So for $100 less, buy the ceramic insert slow cooker, and brown the meat in a fry pan.<span> The ceramic insert</span> may develop little hairline cracks (they say that was fixed, too) but at least it won’t peel.<br />
<a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=staub.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Photobucket" height="104" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/staub.jpg" width="131" /></a><br />
How about a Staub cast-iron pot?<span> </span>Used to be that in order to buy those you’d have to sell your firstborn, or take out another mortgage.<span> </span>Seriously though, unless you have spent some time at the gym, or like to work out, Staub is way heavier than Le Creuset and twice the price.<span> </span>They advertise that it is dishwasher safe, but guess what?<span> </span>Hand wash for a longer life will be the saleperson's mantra or I am willing to give you my first born.<span> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=coffee.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img align="right" alt="Photobucket" height="118" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/coffee.jpg" width="94" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
</div> A couple of cookware stores began carrying the Technivorm Moccamaster coffeemaker.<span> </span>If you can call it that.<span> </span>It is more like a space age modern muse for the kitchen counter.<span> </span>Technivorm drips very hot coffee into a carafe about 3 inches lower than the bottom of the cone drip and you could stand there and watch the steam vapors escape and freeze on their way into the carafe, dropping the coffee temperature by a fair amount.<span> </span><span> </span>I’m stupid enough to own one.<span> </span>I’ve had it for a year now and every time I make coffee I shake my head in wonder at what possessed me to part with that much money for this machine aside from the modern art sculpture look on my counter.<span> </span>They came up with a fix and mailed me a part.<span> </span>It is a cover for the carafe that allows for the drip to drop, so to speak, but keeps most of the heat contained.<span> </span>A fine fix, but not a remarkable remedy.<span> </span>Still drinking tepid coffee. You could own one of these useless, but artsy machines for the mere pittance of $300.<span> </span>My French press thought it was destined for the useless appliance closet after I toted home the Technivorm, but it has yet to make the move to live next to the nonstick egg poacher insert.<span> Technivorm might arrive there first.</span><br />
<a href="http://s243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/?action=view&current=smoking-gun.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Photobucket" height="111" src="http://i243.photobucket.com/albums/ff40/LHorel/smoking-gun.jpg" width="111" /></a><br />
And last, and especially least, we could not leave out the smoking gun.<span> </span>Yes, it is called the Smoking Gun.<span> </span>It is a gadget that spews some magical smoky flavor into your food through the attached tube.<span> </span>Just don’t point it at anyone and certainly don’t answer the door with the smoking gun in your hand – no need to create a misunderstanding with the UPS guy.<span> </span>It runs on batteries and if you forget to smoke it up while cooking you can add it later.<span> </span>The catalog says you can, so it must be true.<span> </span>At only $99 with an additional $25 wood chip assortment to complete the package, I think this might be the perfect mother-in-law gift for this holiday season.<span> </span>Imagine when you tell people that you bought your mother-in-law a smoking gun for the holidays – an instant conversation stopper if ever there was one.<br />
</div><div class="pbody" id="pbody">Now, if they'd only start carrying the All Clad stainless 14 inch fry pan, I might actually buy something. But until then, I'm eyeing that Miele rotary iron for just $2000. Think of all the money I'd save ironing my own tableclothes, if only I had any. </div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-66101217936101210832010-09-01T10:21:00.000-07:002010-09-01T10:21:35.180-07:00Coming to America with Poppy Seed Cookies<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/08/30/coming_to_america_with_poppy_seed_cookies#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="linaIzzy1914" height="271" hspace="5px" id="cid_745413" src="http://open.salon.com/files/linaizzy19141283204120.jpg" width="383" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <em>Lina & sweet Izzy, circa 1914 </em><br />
</div>Where my mom was raised, in the tiny apartment on South 2nd Street in Brooklyn, the kitchen served as culinary school for mastering the art of our heirloom family recipes. She had a permanent front row seat in the classroom in her mother’s kitchen because her bed, a cot really, was located next to the stove. That kitchen was the first place in America where our culinary family history was carried forward, one recipe at a time.<br />
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There were no notes, no recipe cards, but there was a teacher and a willing pupil, usually covered in flour, speaking Romanian mixed with Yiddish at first, and then finally English. Undoubtedly some information was lost in translation, but each recipe has survived well over 150 years looking remarkably the same. <br />
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But those heirloom recipes had a long journey to get to where they are today. <br />
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Leaving behind family, friends and their home, four of a dozen siblings crossed the European continent on foot one hundred and ten years ago. During the great emigration from Moldavia in Romania in 1899-1900 they sought freedom from the overwhelming oppression of merely being Jews. Carrying only a few possessions that included precious woodworking and dressmaking tools, a couple of family heirlooms and photos, they walked alongside thousands of other Jews to Hamburg. Almost accidental Americans, they had an opportunity to emigrate to a host of countries, but because a distant cousin in the United States offered sponsorship, they finally boarded a ship sailing to New York Harbor. <br />
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Arriving in America, the siblings honored their new home by swiftly assimilating. Moise became Moses. Rosa became Rose. Marim became Mary and Lienor became Lina. Moses became a successful carpenter and with his new young wife, raised two boys in Manhattan, whose educations would never have come to pass in their old homeland because in Romania the law didn’t allow Jews to attend school or pursue higher education. <br />
Rose and Mary opened a dressmaking business in New York that specialized in copying couture. They were enormously popular and specialized in creating one-of-kind wedding dresses. Lina, the youngest sister, married a man who had emigrated from the same region of Romania. Lina and sweet Izzy, as he was known, made their home in Brooklyn where they raised my mother and her brother. <br />
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Lina and Izzy’s was the place where friends and family gathered for Shabbat dinner. Lina spent the entire day cleaning, cooking and baking and followed the admirable European method of preparation – where every single morsel of food was used. Chicken parts would turn into savory broth. Extra vegetables and herbs would go into the soup pot. A leftover potato might be the beginning of a knish. The dried fruit would be split into portions for both tzimmes and strudel. Chicken fat would be used to <a href="http://leitesculinaria.com/927/recipes-fried-chicken-skin-gribenes.html">make gribenes</a> (fried chicken skin). Nothing was wasted or allowed to be wasted. Food was expensive and precious and even after decades of living in America they never forgot what it felt like to be hungry. <br />
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Because I lost my mom nearly at the beginning of my mentoring, I had only a partial concept of how to prepare those recipes. Fortunately while she was alive, my mother, who was a gifted letter writer, often wrote down those top-dog secret recipes for distant cousins though she never saved copies. And years later with a simple twist of fate when I was researching our ancestry, I was able to locate some of those distant cousins and reclaim some of the recipes that were almost lost to me.<br />
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I never met my grandmother, and I had very little time with my mother; finding my distant cousins who actually ate dinner in my grandmother’s kitchen and could tell me family stories was like finding a treasured heirloom hidden in the attic, long forgotten. <br />
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I can still see one very special cousin, sitting across from me the day we met more than fifteen years ago, painstakingly writing down the poppy seed cookie recipe on a card for me. From memory, she spoke aloud in a soft voice recalling the ingredients and preparation, carefully documenting all of it. <br />
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I don't need the card these days to make the cookies, but I have it safely tucked away as a reminder to continue archiving all those recipes for the next generation. Sometimes when I make the poppy seed cookies I imagine my grandmother standing in her mother's kitchen, over a hundred years ago in old Romania, carefully memorizing exactly the same movements I am doing. Perhaps not exactly, since I can't help myself - this recipe is modified just a bit for a little extra kick, and can be prepared gluten free. <br />
Culinary ancestry; it's almost better than 100 year old photographs. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="poppyseedcookies" height="347" hspace="5px" id="cid_745419" src="http://open.salon.com/files/poppyseedcookies1283204491.jpg" width="460" /> </div><div align="center"><strong>Lina’s Poppy Seed Cookies</strong></div><div align="left"><em><strong>Ingredients </strong></em></div><ul><li>1 egg</li>
<li>½ cup vegetable oil</li>
<li>¾ heaping cup of sugar</li>
<li>½ teaspoon almond flavoring</li>
<li>1 teaspoon baking powder</li>
<li>3 heaping tablespoons poppy seeds</li>
<li>Grated zest of one lemon</li>
<li>2 cups of almond flour</li>
<li>1 cup regular or gluten free flour (add pinch xanthan gum for gluten free)</li>
</ul><strong><em>Directions</em></strong> <br />
Preheat oven to 375.<br />
Mix flour, baking powder in one bowl. Set aside. In larger bowl mix egg, oil, sugar, poppy seeds, lemon zest and almond flavoring. Add dry ingredients to wet and mix well. Pinch off small pieces and roll into balls (add a little more almond flour if necessary) about a half inch big. Place on silpat lined cookie sheets. Flatten with your hand or use the back of a spoon. Let set for about 30 minutes. Bake 8 minutes and rotate cookie sheets. Bake about 8 minutes more or until lightly brown. Cool. Makes several dozen cookies.Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-91119688406803598892010-08-23T19:35:00.000-07:002010-08-23T19:35:21.338-07:00Where the Wild Shoes Are: With Nutella Meringue Drops<h2><br />
</h2><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <div style="line-height: normal;"><img align="right" alt="51SS1E3XKTL" height="135" hspace="5px" id="cid_734751" src="http://open.salon.com/files/51ss1e3xktl._aa300_1282521452.jpg" width="135" /><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">After walking to every patisserie that sold French macarons during my first month in Paris, my once sensible walking shoes began to seriously malfunction. Fashionable in California but not exactly stylish in Paris, they were losing the battle with cobblestone streets and city walking. With one sole flapping in the breeze, they were clearly gasping their last breath. And given the awkwardness of encountering giggling little children and elderly women pointing at them, it was time to spring for something a little more, well, Parisian. And black. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">I memorized how to say my shoe size in French and put the prettiest pink collars on the adorable, but fake Bouledogues Français, Lulu and Phoebe (they're really Boston Terriers but no one in Paris understood the translation). I’d already learned that dogs were always welcome everywhere in Paris and warmed up even the most sullen storekeeper. I was not beneath using them to get what I wanted.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Sure enough, la vendeuse des chaussures, and in fact everyone in the shoe salon greeted the dogs warmly in rapid fire French. But when I asked to see shoes in my size, the very proper elderly French saleswoman looked at me, looked down at my feet, frowned, pointed (again) and yelled out: MON DIEU! QUARANTE TRIOS! </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The small shoe salon got awfully silent as every eyeball moved to my feet, which were sadly, still clad in the ugly American shoe now being licked by one bored dog. Satisfied that everyone knew the great dilemma the sales woman faced in helping the American with huge feet, she sighed loudly, and we moved up to the second floor where they apparently kept the clown-sized footwear. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">She brought out an array of the ugliest shoes that not even a catalog of podiatry shoes from 1943 would have advertised. I politely rejected them all. After tossing her hands in the air, doing that rapid fire French again, which I understood far more than I wanted (big ox feet, ugly shoes will be only yours should you ever find anyone willing to sell you anything you American giant). And that was the kind part. I think she also asked Lulu and Phoebe to smell my feet, or to sell my feet. Clearly, that was lost in translation.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Finally, the shoes she began to bring out were from the downstairs public display; translation, pretty shoes. Perhaps the hideous selection was a test to see if I had a scintilla of good fashion sense which would not have been obvious given my current footwear.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Exactly 15 minutes after noon, the saleswoman started packing up the shoes and told me to pick something because she was leaving for her déjeuner. Lunch break, it seems, happens whether you have a customer or not. Though I wasn’t quite finished, to promote goodwill between the France and America, I purchased a pair of shoes. Good thing I noticed they had two more locations in Paris where I could be humiliated all over again in a new setting because I certainly wasn't going back to that store ever again.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">And continuing on my quest for French macarons, we detoured on the way back to the apartment by way of La Printemps Department Store to visit Maison du Chocolat. They had just gotten in the most delicate and delicious French macaroons I’d tasted yet. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">I tried to recreate the macarons when I was home in California months later. After several macaron wrecks (getting them out of the oven without any cracks on top is tricky) I came upon a different solution; meringues with filling. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">These meringues are easy, inexpensive and dazzling. Each time I make these I am reminded not only of that shoe shopping day, but of both France's persistent use of Nutella on everything, and of course, Maison du Chocolat and those amazing macaroons.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The meringues are gluten free and elegant enough to serve at a party or to give as a gift; if there are any left, that is.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="macaroonsD" height="371" hspace="5px" id="cid_734729" src="http://open.salon.com/files/macaroonsd1282520419.jpg" width="371" /></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Nutella Meringue Drops</span></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Ingredients</span></em></strong></div><ul><li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">4 large or extra large egg whites </span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2/3 cup sugar</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">2 teaspoons cornstarch</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">pinch of salt</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">¼ teaspoon vanilla</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">¼ teaspoon almond extract</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">½ cup Nutella, or melted bittersweet chocolate</span></li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Directions</span></em></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Preheat oven to 225. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silpats. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Crack the eggs carefully and separate the yolks from the whites. Store the yolks for another use. Pop the whites into a stand mixer or in a very large bowl and add the vanilla and almond and the salt. Whisk away on high until frothy but no peaks are formed.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Whisk the sugar with the cornstarch and with the mixer on medium speed; pour the sugar mixture in a steady stream at the edge of the bowl until it is incorporated. Scrape the bowl once with a spatula to make sure all the sugar is incorporated. Now whisk on highest speed until stiff peaks form and mixture looks glossy. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Use a pastry bag or very large Ziploc bag with a 1/2 inch tip to pipe the Meringues onto both cookie sheets, filling them – they can be placed very close together. Or use a spoon to place some on the cookie sheet and use a twist of the spoon to shape them. They should be between 1.5 and 2 inches in diameter. Either way, the recipes yields dozens.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Bake 30 minutes and rotate the baking sheets. Add about another 35 minutes to the cooking time and then turn off the oven and don't open the door! Leave them in the oven 60 minutes more. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Remove and let them cool completely before handling.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">While they cool, gently melt the chocolate (in a water bath or the microwave) or Nutella until spreadable. Let the mixture cool somewhat. Take two Meringues and spread a bit of Nutella or chocolate on the bottom of one cookie. Attach the other cookie. Cool the cookies completely before serving – if you can wait. Très bon!</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Notes: Don't try to make them on a day when your house might be humid - they won't dry. Keep an eye on them in the oven because while they will still taste great if they brown, they won't look as pretty. Don't be tempted to open the oven door - and if you err on the side of too much time, not a problem. They might get soggy stored in plastic wrap. A tin is best. </span></div><br />
</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-60987359512013223192010-08-20T16:48:00.000-07:002010-08-20T17:20:10.181-07:00Fromage Blanc with Framboises, In Your Kitchen<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="FRENCHFROMAGEBLANC" hspace="5" id="cid_81747" src="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2009/01/12/files/frenchfromageblanc1231824537.jpg" width="285" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>yummy french berries and fromage blanc </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some of the food we ate while we lived in France are just memories, but some of it we have painstakingly recreated back home.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fromage Blanc is one of those, and also one of our favorite foods. It is delightfully easy to make and even more fun to eat. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is something that might be related to our cottage cheese (if it was smooth), or yogurt, or a very loose cream cheese. Depends on who you ask. All I know is that once we discovered it, we ate it everyday, often with berries that were sublime.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Fromage Blanc is easy to make but expensive to buy here in the U.S. <b><a href="http://butterandcheese.net/">Vermont Butter and Cheese</a></b> has one as does <b><a href="http://www.cypressgrovechevre.com/company/section_1.0.html">Cypress Grove Cheese</a></b> in California. Neither taste like French Fromage Blanc though. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To make it, order the <i>Fromage Blanc starter</i> from <i><b><a href="http://www.cheesemaking.com/store/p/138-Fromage-Blanc-DS-5-pack.html">New England Cheese Making Company</a></b></i> along with the cheesecloth to drain the stuff. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Get a gallon of whole milk from the store. Heat it up in a large pot to about 78-80 degrees. Mix in the starter until dissolved (about 2 minutes), cover and let sit for about 14 hours on the stove top or counter. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Using a cheesecloth lined colander with a pot or large bowl under it, spoon the mixture into the colander and cover. Refrigerate and let it drain for about 4 hours, but no more than 6. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pour or dump into a large bowl and whisk it until it is smooth, free from lumps. Use some of the liquid (whey) if it seems to dry to you. It should resemble the consistency of Greek Yogurt or sour cream. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If it looks like cream cheese you left it too long and you will want to stir some of the whey back in to the mixture. Store in a covered container in the refrigerator. It makes about a quart plus and it lasts about 2 weeks in the refrigerator. It only gets more ripe, and that is not a bad thing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Serve with berries or other fruit. I like it with bananas or honey. People in France serve it often for dessert with fruit or a honey topping.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Bon Appetite! </span>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-6464364246665955762010-08-11T16:58:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:58:03.776-07:00Short Cake Road Trip: Gluten Free Strawberry Shortcake<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/05/17/short_cake_road_trip#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="familyB" height="288" hspace="5px" id="cid_608542" src="http://open.salon.com/files/familyb1274133578.jpg" width="437" /><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Ohio? Didn't we lose my brother in Colorado?</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div>Half a century ago my family made a cross country sojourn in the old Ford. Six people were packed into a non air-conditioned car for thousands of miles in the middle of summer; three of them stinky teenage boys plus one chatty little four-year-old girl. This is the very stuff that makes warm family memories. Too bad I can’t remember any except the fuzzy-gray traumatic one where we lose my older brother somewhere on a mountain in Colorado. Fortunately there is proof we found him again, evidenced by his Bar Mitzvah photo the next fall. </div>Determined to subvert that history, thirty years later we piled our own two pre-teen girls into the tiny backseat of an air conditioned Subaru station wagon and took off west. It marked the beginning of the big move to California from Vermont, leaving behind very cold winters to happily bask in the fog and sunshine that would San Francisco Bay.<br />
Road food would rule. Motels with pools were the late afternoon destination. Think Route 66, but not nearly as awesome. Also not awesome were the two sullen pre-teenagers and their battery eating Walkmans which killed the glamour of the road trip more quickly than running out of Dunkin Donuts. We called them the Misses Bickersons not 50 miles into the trip because they argued constantly. The oldest had just declared herself a vegetarian. The youngest had yet to realize that food came in more than the Gulp versions and that 7-11 was not owned by the government nor located at every intersection no matter how many times she asked.<br />
Miss vegetarian Bickerson was getting cranky trying to find something beyond macaroni and cheese or salad to eat. Sadly, even her veggie western omelet (in Denver) was almost sent back because it had touched ham. It probably is fodder for therapy at some point, but we made her eat it anyway. Not one of us could stand her crankiness in the confines of the car for one more day. The girl needed some protein.<br />
In an old keepsake box is the evidence; rules ratified and signed in the very first miles of the trip between the two warring Bickersons. The list is preserved for posterity or the national archives, whichever asks first. On it are classics – no spitting, burping or other gross bodily functions. No flapping lips unless it is your designated talking minute. No touching the other’s side of the (compact) back seat. No slurping drinks (my rule) and no singing aloud with the Walkman. The best rule? No talking until 7AM. Let’s just say that one child was quite cheerfully chatty from the moment her eyes opened, no matter how early. The rest of us needed shots of high-test coffee.<br />
Starting out before dawn to beat the late afternoon triple digit heat, we’d begin driving at 5AM and stop at 3PM to seek the coolness of the pool and some early dessert. Aside from the gallons of really bad coffee we guzzled, almost 786 versions of tired American pie dotted the road food landscape. Thankfully, there was an alternative. Since it was late June there was also strawberry shortcake. Lots of it.<br />
Sometimes the shortcake was a biscuit – other times it was pound cake gone awry. And once in a while it was a cross between a scone and a biscuit. The scones won our hearts. Not a summer goes by since then, that as soon as the berries show up at our Farmer’s Markets; we are making shortcakes until the supply is gone. <br />
We’ve been thinking about a road trip again and it is almost strawberry season everywhere. This trip, the backseat will be filled by tiny Lulu and Phoebe who sleep when the car is moving. They will gladly eat meat and everything else offered, including strawberries. <br />
The Walkman is long gone, replaced by the iPod – which magically plugs into the car. Sometimes change is a good thing, just as long as no one messes with strawberry shortcake. <br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="sskD" height="358" hspace="5px" id="cid_608671" src="http://open.salon.com/files/sskd1274141427.jpg" width="457" /></div><div align="center"><strong>Road Trip Strawberry Shortcake</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em>Ingredients</em></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Scones</strong></div><ul><li>2 cups flour (for gluten free flour – plus 1 tspn. xanthan gum)</li>
<li>¼ cup sugar</li>
<li>Pinch Salt</li>
<li>6 tablespoons unsalted butter very cold, cut into small pieces</li>
<li>1 large egg</li>
<li>1 tablespoon lemon or orange zest</li>
<li>1 cup heavy cream</li>
<li>½ cup currants, dried cranberries, fresh blueberries, (optional)</li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Strawberry Filling</strong></div><ul><li>2 pints (or more) fresh strawberries cut into quarters</li>
<li>2 tablespoons sugar (1 per pint)</li>
<li>1 tablespoon Grand Marnier</li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Whipped Cream Topping</strong></div><ul><li>1 pint heavy whipping cream</li>
<li>1 tablespoon sugar</li>
<li>Splash of vanilla</li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em>Directions</em></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Scones</strong></div>Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with a silpat or parchment<br />
In a food processor, pulse together flour, baking powder, sugar and pinch of salt (and xanthan gum if using gf flour). Drop in the cold butter pieces and pulse until it looks like coarse cornmeal. Remove to a large bowl. <br />
Pour one cup of cream into a small bowl. Add the egg and mix well. Add the zest and stir. Pour into the dry mix and using a fork mix just until incorporated. Add the optional dried fruit and mix. Dough will be very sticky. Using floured hands, knead the dough a few turns until it is smooth. Cut in half. Roll each half into a ball and place on floured board. <br />
Flatten slightly and cut into four pieces. Place on silpat lined baking sheet. Bake about 18 minutes until lightly brown. Cool. <br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Strawberries</strong></div>Wash, dry and quarter berries. Mix in sugar and liquor. Cover and refrigerate several hours or overnight. Bring to room temperature before serving.<br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Whipped Cream</strong></div>Whip the heavy cream with a mixer or by hand after adding sugar and vanilla. Keep cold.<br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Assembly</strong></div>Using serrated knife – cut the scones in half. Spoon a generous serving of berries and juices onto bottom half of scone. Top with whipped cream and place other half of scone, offset on top.<br />
Bon appétit and happy trails.Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-56293297427913310582010-08-11T16:56:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:56:29.191-07:00Once Upon a Home Ec Cake Wreck: Marble Cake Gluten Free<div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="momboth" height="221" hspace="5px" id="cid_689714" src="http://open.salon.com/files/momboth1279571823.jpg" width="389" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <em>clearly I should have been paying attention....</em> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Home Economics was a mandatory (girl) course in 7<sup>th</sup> grade and every single project seemed to require a mother. Unfortunately I was fresh out of mothers for most of that year. </span> <div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">First up in the Home Ec curriculum was the "sew a dress with mom" project. My fondest wish tended more toward meeting the Beatles or marrying Illya Kuryakin, not learning to sew. My father enlisted a neighborhood mom to help and she thought girls only came in one size; small and dainty. Over 5’9” with feet past a size 10, I was nothing close to small. I did get credit for completing the dress and lucky for me the teacher never noticed the masking taped <strike>seams</strike> hem, or that it was a thousand sizes too small. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The next project, "baking with mom" </span><span><span><span style="background-color: transparent; cursor: default;">lamentably</span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> meant one thing. Cake. The Home Ec teacher had great affection for all things cake, evidenced by the unending stash of Little Debbie treats in her desk drawer. I pleaded my case using the poor-sad-orphan-card to get a reprieve, but the teacher knew that I had one breathing parent left, which meant I was only one-half orphan. I was toast. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">We had to bake the thing from scratch which involved purchasing ingredients that were not labeled Jiffy Cake Mix. I didn’t have a lot of cash, so I brilliantly figured I’d buy only the important sounding ingredients for my chocolate cake. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Nesquik seemed more versatile than Hershey's cocoa. Margarine was cheaper than butter and sort of looked the same. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">I'd use water instead of milk; who would know? </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Powdered sugar for frosting seemed extraneous since I had to buy the regular kind anyway. Why not use the same stuff for both? Why buy vanilla flavoring if the cake was going to be chocolate?</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Baking at 350? I preferred even numbers, like 400 which sounded as though it would bake the cake faster. It did. Well-done to burned cake transpired in a matter of minutes. But hey, it was already chocolate; the dark part was well hidden and it still smelled mostly like cake. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The granulated sugar frosting was, well, lacking. When I found some sliced almonds in the pantry to pat strategically into the grainy frosting, I was feeling quite smart. It looked rather elegant if you squinted, which I hoped my home economics teacher would be doing when I brought it to school the next day. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">I needn’t have worried about carrying it – the thing was heavy as a brick and just as petrified. I dramatically carried the cake like it was fragile; leaving everyone to imagine that it was delicate. There were so many cakes that I easily shoved mine behind the surplus. Other girls were clamoring for the teacher to taste their creations. Something about the law of averages saved me; there were only so many bites of sweetness a person can eat before they surrender. Mine was left alone. But because it looked like cake I got credit. Even motherless, I managed the façade of cake and passed home economics. Barely.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">These days I never forget to use vanilla even when I make a chocolate confection. The one lesson I learned from making that 7th grade cake wreck was that any cake can be made to look presentable, but not all presentable cakes taste good. Given a choice, I opt for both, but taste wins every time. This chocolate and yellow cake is a favorite, and one day I will actually learn the art of marbling. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="marblecakeA" height="510" hspace="5px" id="cid_683485" src="http://open.salon.com/files/marblecakea1279132342.jpg" width="383" /></div><div align="center"><strong>(Gluten Free) Marble Layer Cake</strong></div><ul><li>2 ¼ cups cake flour or <a href="http://www.authenticfoods.com/products/item/40/Bettes-Featherlight-Flour-Blend">featherlight gluten free flour</a> sifted</li>
<li>1 teaspoon xanthan gum (if using gluten free flour)</li>
<li>2 teaspoons baking powder</li>
<li>1 cup almond flour sifted</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
<li>2/3 cup cream </li>
<li>2/3 cup milk</li>
<li>6 eggs</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla flavoring </li>
<li>1 teaspoon almond flavoring</li>
<li>½ teaspoon<a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/shop/items/fiori-di-sicilia-1-oz"> fiori di sicilia</a> </li>
<li>¾ cup boiling water</li>
<li>2/3 cup valrhona unsweetened cocoa sifted</li>
<li>2 scant cups white sugar (superfine works well)</li>
<li>2 sticks unsalted butter softened</li>
</ul>Preheat oven to 350.<span> </span>Butter bottom and sides of two 8x3 or 9x2 inch round cake pans. Line with parchment and butter.<span> </span>Coat with flour. Tap out excess. <br />
In a bowl, whisk together sifted flours, xanthan gum, baking powder, and salt. In a stand mixer, cream butter and sugar until pale and fluffy.<span> </span>Add eggs, one at a time.<span> </span>Add flavorings.<span> </span>Add flour and milk/cream mixture alternately until incorporated.<span> </span>Don’t over mix.<span> </span><br />
In a bowl, mix sifted cocoa with boiling water until it is sludge.<span> </span>Scoop about 3 cups of the batter into the chocolate mix. Whisk until incorporated.<br />
Alternate scoops of chocolate and vanilla batter in baking pan until both pans are filled evenly.<span> </span>Using a butter knife, gently draw a figure eight to marble the batter.<span> </span> <span><br />
</span><br />
Tap pans on counter to settle the contents and remove air bubbles.<span> </span>Give pan a quick shake and place in oven.<span> </span>Bake about 35 minutes until lightly brown or toothpick comes out clean.<br />
Cool five minutes and turn out on a rack. Cool completely.<br />
Cut each layer in half. <br />
Brush with simple syrup, if desired, and frost with your favorite: <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/portal/site/mslo/menuitem.aced15a43a1d10e593598e10d373a0a0/?vgnextoid=b672ce791f116110VgnVCM1000003d370a0aRCRD&vgnextchannel=a349a4391ee5f010VgnVCM1000003d370a0aRCRD&vgnextfmt=print&currentslide=1&page=1">Ganache</a>, <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/mrs-milmans-chocolate-frosting-2">butter cream</a>, dark chocolate glaze or combination. <br />
Notes: To marble correctly, don’t mush the knife through like I did when you make that figure eight.<span> </span>It comes out without the distinct markings.<span> </span>Less is more.<span> </span>Really.<span> </span>I used both ganache and butter cream just because I wasn’t sure which I wanted.<span> </span>Next time I would use a thinner layer of ganache between the layers and pour a glaze over the top and sides.<span> Still, there is no such thing as too much chocolate. </span><br />
Bon appétit and let us eat cake.<br />
</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-21739769609624710852010-08-11T16:54:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:54:30.978-07:00Chocolate Bread Pudding: From Ivy's Kitchen, Very Small<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/07/05/chocolate_bread_pudding_from_ivys_kitchen_very_small#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> Stashed in the back of our stuffed chocolate cupboard is a well loved box overflowing with hand written recipes, food notes and wrinkled wine labels.<span> </span><span>It's a repository of our life in food - a truer picture of our history than any ancestral chart.</span><span> </span><br />
Dearest to me are the hand written recipes from our adopted grandmother, 80-year-old Ivy; shared with us when we were teenage newlyweds living in our very first apartment far from our families. It was a simpler time when all we needed was a home cooked meal to make the world right again.<span> </span>I can even smell that first meal Ivy made for us, although at the time we weren’t quite sure what to call it.<br />
Entering the dingy apartment house foyer on that gray, bone chilling, rainy New England autumn evening, the usual smell, old cat hair and l’eau de musty old building was replaced by the wafting and mouth watering aroma of warm-from-the-oven meat loaf and mashed potatoes.<span> </span>In the dark foyer we almost tripped over the foil wrapped gift by our front door.<span> </span>It was the very first care-package dinner from our neighbor, Ivy. That meatloaf was love in a 5x8 loaf pan.<br />
That same evening, we returned the dishes and shared the first of many cups of tea with Ivy.<span> </span>In contrast to our modest junk-furnished flat, her apartment was a cozy chintz filled slice of her previous life in England.<span> </span>Though she had been in the United States for decades by then, she still was a very proper English marm in diction, grammar, manners and food making.<span> </span>That probably explained why her meatloaf was a cross between an American Good Housekeeping recipe and Shepherd’s Pie.<span> </span>It was topped with some of the mashers, almost like Ivy couldn’t help herself – along with the inclusion of very squishy peas scattered throughout the meatloaf.<span> </span>Nonetheless, it was comfort food to a couple of kids who relied on dry cereal and boxed macaroni and cheese to survive thus far.<br />
Once she caught on that we were not fit to feed ourselves, Ivy left her version of a balanced meal on our doorstep many evenings.<span> </span>We thought she possessed some crazy crystal ball because the food was always piping hot, but we soon realized that from her living room window, she could see us getting off the bus a block away.<span> </span>That gave her just the right amount of time to spirit the dish to our door and disappear like a magic food-elf.<span> </span>She had three or four dishes that were rotated and every single one included squished peas and potatoes.<span> </span>The only one we could not eat, but never told her, was the thing that included canned salmon.<span> </span>Even potatoes couldn’t make that dish edible.<span> </span><br />
Ivy also introduced us to her favorite post dinner delight, English bread and butter pudding.<span> </span>We ate so many variations of bread pudding, we lost count.<span> </span>Our favorite was toll house chocolate chip, again Ivy's way of being half American, half British. The chocolate was warm, gooey and a perfect accent to the bland pudding.<br />
Many chilly winter evenings over bread pudding and tea, I would snuggle in one of the handmade afghans she was continually crocheting.<span> The blankets were</span> stored in a cedar chest that looked like an antique you’d find at auction deep in the New England countryside, but it had been in her family for generations.<br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">On that late spring day when we said good bye because we were moving back to our hometown, we also told Ivy that we were expecting our first baby. Over one last shared pudding, we promised to come back with the baby to visit that next summer. Before leaving, Ivy gave us not only the handwritten recipes, but another gift that we still cherish; the afghan and a bow-covered cedar chest. Thirty six years later the cedar chest stores not only the beautiful afghan but a tiny crocheted blanket that Ivy made for our first baby. Sadly, that next winter, </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">before we could bring the baby to meet her</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">, Ivy died quite suddenly. </span></div>Each one of her hand written recipe cards begins: <em>From Ivy’s Kitchen - Very Small</em>.<span> </span>Her cozy apartment kitchen may have been tiny, but her heart was huge and generous.<span> </span>I’ve a long way to go before I turn 80, but I hope I can be someone’s Ivy one day. Bread pudding is very forgiving and easy to prepare.<span> </span>Intended to use up old stale bread with a few eggs and milk, the recipe deserves a little update.<span> </span>Use some brioche or challah (egg bread) for a richer flavor and instead of toll house chips, chop some bittersweet chocolate.<span> </span>I’m pretty sure Ivy would approve and be thrilled that I finally figured out the purpose of a kitchen.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="ivybreadpuddingA" height="326" hspace="5px" id="cid_662298" src="http://open.salon.com/files/ivybreadpuddinga1277738736.jpg" width="459" /><strong> </strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>Ivy’s Kitchen, Very Small - Chocolate Bread Pudding</strong> </div><strong><em>Ingredients</em></strong><br />
<ul><li>2 cups of day old challah, brioche or pound cake, cubed (or gluten free pound cake or bread)</li>
<li>3 cups of (whole) milk, scalded</li>
<li>1 tablespoon unsalted butter</li>
<li>½ cup sugar</li>
<li>2 eggs slightly beaten</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla</li>
<li>Pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon</li>
<li>½ cup of chopped bittersweet chocolate</li>
</ul><strong><em>Directions</em></strong><br />
Preheat oven to 325.<span> </span>Butter an 8x8 baking pan.<span> </span>Scald milk, add butter and let stand about 15 minutes.<span> </span>Add the other ingredients (except bread & chocolate) to milk mixture and whisk to incorporate.<span> </span>Drop cubed bread and chopped chocolate into the prepared casserole dish and gently pour tepid liquid over it.<span> </span>Cover with foil and place in hot water bath in the preheated oven.<span> </span>Keep covered for at least 30 minutes and bake for a total of one hour or until just a tiny bit wiggly in the center.<span> </span>Serve slightly warm with whipped cream on a puddle of dolce de leche.<br />
Notes: Cube the bread the day before and let it sit uncovered overnight. It needs to be slightly stale and dried. A serrated knife will chop the chocolate easily. <br />
Bon appétit.<br />
</div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-4625850661878766522010-08-11T16:53:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:53:04.830-07:00Uncle Milt's Half Moon Cookies (gluten free)<div align="center"> <img alt="unclemiltspurpleplatehalfmoon" height="280" hspace="5px" id="cid_653734" src="http://open.salon.com/files/unclemiltspurpleplatehalfmoon1277143618.jpg" width="374" /></div><div align="center"><em>Uncle Milt's Half Moon Cookie, Kitchen Version </em></div>When life gets challenging, I retreat to the kitchen and bake.<span> </span><span> </span>I've been baking a mountain of confections and feeding our neighborhood since we found ourselves in the growing land of the suddenly unemployed two weeks ago. And whenever I listen to the news and hear some talking-head cheerfully report that the economy is improving, it merely means another baking flurry is about to commence. <br />
Yesterday I decided to bake with purpose. This time, I'm tackling everyone’s favorite, the holy grail of childhood memories; <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#%21/group.php?gid=135468979800060&ref=ts">Snowflake </a><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#%21/group.php?gid=135468979800060&ref=ts">Bakery's Half Moon cookie</a>, the kitchen version. <br />
Converting <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2010/06/07/honey_cake_snowflake_bakery_open2010">Baking Hero</a>, Milt Ziegler's commercial ingredient list for the Half Moon mix to a kitchen recipe takes a certain amount of good faith and apparently a very competent geek who happens to have some spare time these days.<span> </span>Converting 15 pounds of cake flour to a manageable quantity that would fit in my Kitchen-Aid mixer, along with the balance of other ingredients is similar to one of those pesky math word problems. There I was, biting my lip, double checking my math with a calculator, hoping I was not making a mistake. Math word problems give me hives and a headache.<br />
From over my shoulder there was suddenly the sound of Pink Floyd's <em>Money</em> in the form of a tiny hum coming from the Geek.<span> </span>I paused, pencil in the air, waiting.<span> </span>With a small, but audible “ah ha” mixed into the middle of the song I heard footsteps receding to the kitchen.<span> I followed.</span><br />
Reading glasses perched carefully on his nose, he squinted and leaned in to watch the numbers shifting in a beaker filled with water; he was dropping in whole eggs, one at a time.<span> </span>Rising up from that stooped over, back-aching bend, he grinned and said “two large eggs and a half cup of milk”.<br />
I looked at my paper and did some fast calculations and sure enough – two eggs and 4 ounces of milk.<span> </span>He'd gotten there faster, of course, and more accurately, like the good <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/products.php?term=squint&defid=2340396">squint</a> scientist that he is (hello: Bones). One fancy spreadsheet later I had my recipe.<span> </span><br />
I’ve auditioned many black & white cookie recipes through the years trying to duplicate the Snowflake Half Moon Cookie memory from my childhood.<span> </span>Alas, not a single one came close.<span> </span>Until now. Uncle Milt’s Half Moon kitchen recipe is quite probably the best version I’ve ever made.<span> </span><br />
There isn’t a week that goes by that I don’t pass a bakery in my neighborhood and wish it were Snowflake.<span> </span>After the <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2010/06/07/honey_cake_snowflake_bakery_open2010">Snowflake article</a> appeared in Salon’s Food page, a Facebook group, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#%21/group.php?gid=135468979800060&ref=ts">Snowflake Bakery Memories</a>, was created by Milt’s son, Jeff.<span> </span>After just a couple of weeks almost 250 people have joined the group.<span> </span>Almost everyone whistfully remembers the fabulous Half Moon cookies (black & whites).<span> </span><br />
The Facebook page is the closest we will get to Snowflake Bakery these days, but with Milt’s generosity, now we can have a kitchen version of <span>the </span>popular Half Moon cookie. <span> </span>Go ahead.<span> </span>Close your eyes when you take that first bite.<span> </span>It will take you all the way back to those wonderful Snowflake days.<br />
And every time you make Uncle Milt’s Half Moon cookies, be sure to send some love to the guy who made it all possible. <br />
<div align="center"><img alt="unclemiltshalfmoon3" height="305" hspace="5px" id="cid_653694" src="http://open.salon.com/files/unclemiltshalfmoon31277140575.jpg" width="410" /></div><div align="center"><strong>Uncle Milt's Half Moon Cookies</strong> </div><strong><em>Ingredients - Cookies</em></strong> <br />
<ul><li>2 oz. unsalted butter, softened</li>
<li>2 oz. Crisco shortening</li>
<li>1 cup white sugar</li>
<li>2 eggs (mixed well)</li>
<li>½ teaspoon pure vanilla</li>
<li>1/8 teaspoon pure lemon flavoring</li>
<li>Splash of <a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/shop/items/fiori-di-sicilia-1-oz">fiori di sicilia</a> (optional but seriously worth it)</li>
<li>2 ½ cups cake flour ( gluten free flour, add ½ tspn xanthan gum)</li>
<li>1 scant tablespoon baking powder</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
<li>½ cup whole milk (plus a tablespoon if needed)</li>
</ul><strong><em>Ingredients - Glaze</em></strong><br />
<ul><li>2 cups sifted confectioner sugar (<a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/shop/items/glazing-sugar-16-oz">King Arthur</a> has no additives)</li>
<li>2 tablespoons valrhona or other quality unsweetened cocoa powder (sifted)</li>
<li>1 teaspoon light corn syrup</li>
<li>Splash of vanilla and <a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/shop/items/fiori-di-sicilia-1-oz">fiori di sicilia</a> </li>
</ul><br />
<em><strong>Directions for Cookies</strong></em><br />
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.<span> </span>Line two baking sheets with parchment or silpats.<span> </span>Makes half a dozen, 5 inch Half Moon cookies.<span> </span><br />
Mix together flour, baking powder, salt (xanthan gum) and set aside.<span> </span>In stand mixer, cream butter, shortening and sugar until light and fluffy.<span> </span>Add mixed eggs and incorporate well.<span> </span>Add flavorings.<span> </span>Alternately mix in flour mixture and milk.<span> </span>Beat on high just until incorporated and fluffy.<span> </span>Add a tiny bit more milk if the batter seems too stiff.<span> </span>You want the batter to be sturdier than cupcake batter, but not like cookie dough.<br />
Scoop by half cups, five mounds to a baking sheet, well spaced.<span> </span>Using a small offset spatula or the back of a spoon, flatten the mound into a 4.5’ to 5” circle until it actually looks like a Half Moon/Black & White cookie.<span> </span>They will spread slightly, but not much.<br />
Bake about 8 minutes and rotate pans.<span> </span>Bake about 10 minutes more until lightly golden.<span> </span>Cool completely.<br />
<em><strong>Directions for Glaze</strong></em><br />
Sift the sugar into a bowl.<span> </span>Add 2 tablespoons of hot water and stir until the mixture is a spreadable glaze.<span> </span>Add the flavorings and let set for about 30 seconds.<span> </span>Spoon onto one half of the flat side of the cookie.<span> </span>Using a small offset spatula or the back of a spoon, spread the glaze thinly to the edges.<span> </span>Let set while finishing up the others.<br />
Add the sifted cocoa to the remaining glaze and more water if necessary.<span> </span>Using the same method finish the glaze on the other half of the cookie.<span> </span><br />
Let set about an hour until hard.<span> </span><br />
<em><strong>Notes:</strong></em><span><em><strong> </strong></em> </span>Once scooped, you have to spread the batter to the diameter just under what you want for the cookie size.<span> </span><span> </span>Don’t worry about it being too thin.<span> </span>They rise.<span> </span>Don’t over bake because they will get crispy.<span> </span>Half Moons should be soft.<br />
The glaze can get runny if you add even a tiny bit too much liquid.<span> </span>To remedy that, add more sugar.<span> </span>You want it thin, but not liquidy.<span> </span>It is easier to do the white glaze first and then the chocolate.<span> </span>Just be cautious to not hold the cookie over the others while spreading the chocolate glaze or you might spill it onto the other white glazed halves.<br />
<h2> </h2><h2> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">I cannot emphasize enough the addition of <a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/shop/items/fiori-di-sicilia-1-oz">fiori di sicilia<strong> </strong>flavoring from King Arthur</a>. A tiny bit goes a long way and makes your pastry smell and taste like it came from the pastry shop, or in this case, from Snowflake Bakery. It is an enhancement that will make you swoon. I promise.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span> </h2><h2> </h2><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">Bon appétit and thank you to celebrity baking hero, Uncle Milt!</span>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-67803900548063257712010-08-11T16:52:00.000-07:002010-08-11T16:52:00.342-07:00Enterprising Dogs and Ginger Banana Cookies<div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="dogcookiesB" height="306" hspace="5px" id="cid_688875" src="http://open.salon.com/files/dogcookiesb1279503215.jpg" width="407" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><em>Lulu and Phoebe signature cookies: Mine and Mine</em></div></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">My answer to our unexpected and ridiculously long stretch of unemployment has been to spend hours in the kitchen using baking therapy to work out those frustrations. I’ve baked all our old favorites at least twice, pounded dough, chopped until the cutting board looks like a sacrificial lamb, and started working on new recipes. My constant kitchen companions, Lulu and Phoebe have been quietly standing by just in case I need help sweeping up stuff from the floor, taste testing or waiting to bark in case Timmy falls in the well. </div>And, until recently, I hadn’t realized that they were actually waiting for me to get around to baking for them. You’d think after all this time they’d send a memo, a text or at least posted to Facebook. <br />
I’d just finished baking some really fine triple ginger (gluten free) cookies for humans, when I looked up and noticed that both dogs were blowing bubbles; some serious drooling was going on. <br />
Ginger-three-ways was apparently the holy grail of the doggy palate. I’ve seen them get enormously excited when I dropped things on the floor, but they had not yet been soaked with drool in advance of things dropping. Who knew that it would be all about ginger?<br />
Perhaps I was on to something here. I got busy thinking up a good recipe using ginger that would be just perfect for these guys. Sometimes, the unexpected turns into an opportunity.<br />
If the photos are any indication, they approve. <br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="dogcookiesA" height="281" hspace="5px" id="cid_688874" src="http://open.salon.com/files/dogcookiesa1279503155.jpg" width="396" /></div><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><strong>Lulu and Phoebe’s Ginger Banana Cookies</strong></div><ul><li> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">11 oz. (2 cups) mix of rice, </span> <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">sorghum and coconut flours</span> </li>
<li>½ teaspoon xanthan gum</li>
<li>1 heaping tablespoon ginger root powder</li>
<li>½ teaspoon cinnamon</li>
<li>3 oz (weight) or 1/4 cup organic molasses</li>
<li>3 oz (weight) or 1/4 cup organic honey</li>
<li>1 egg</li>
<li>½ cup peanut or olive oil</li>
<li>½ banana</li>
<li>¼ cup Greek yogurt</li>
</ul>Preheat oven to 350. Line three baking sheets with parchment or silpats. In a large bowl, combine flours, xanthan gum, ginger, and cinnamon. In a small food processor or blender, combine molasses, oil, egg, honey, banana and yogurt and pulse until liquefied. Add to dry mixture and combine until well incorporated. The dough should be stiff. <br />
Take one silpat and place it on the counter. Take ½ the dough and pat into rectangle on the silpat. Cover with plastic wrap or parchment paper. Roll very thin all the way to edges if possible. Using your favorite cookie cutter, cut into shapes and using an offset spatula, place on another silpat lined baking sheet. Or, using a butter knife, cut the rolled rectangle of dough into even sized pieces (think graham crackers) by cutting in half and then half again, repeat. Using the tines of a fork, poke each cracker a couple of times (again, think graham crackers). Slide onto baking tray without moving the dough.<br />
Turn oven to 325. Bake 6 minutes and rotate. Bake another 4-5 minutes and remove from oven. When all the baking sheets are finished, combine the cookies onto two sheets. Turn oven off and place cookies in the oven and dry for 30 minutes more (remember to turn the oven off!) to crisp.<br />
Cool completely. <br />
<div style="line-height: normal;">Notes: Using a digital scale for baking will give you more accurate results in general. The combo flours give the cookie a more multi-dimensional flavor, but feel free to use plain rice flour. The dogs won't care. Try to not to use wheat flour- most dogs can't tolerate it. </div>Bon appétit happy dogs!<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="peacelulu" height="286" hspace="5px" id="cid_688860" src="http://open.salon.com/files/peacelulu1279502428.jpg" width="380" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>vulcan salute - prelude to cookies and cookies</em></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-60143137771780164002010-05-06T10:32:00.001-07:002010-05-06T10:32:36.320-07:00My Three Moms with a Very Berry Tart<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/05/03/my_three_moms_with_a_very_berry_tart#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="threemoms" height="166" hspace="5px" id="cid_584043" src="http://open.salon.com/files/threemoms1272768831.jpg" width="391" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>circa; ultra retro - my three moms</em></div><div> </div><div>Blame the twisted super-boondoggle called fate, but I was the first kid on the block to grew up with (my) three moms. I love them all, and there is not one I would trade for another. But the one who can always find Hostess HoHos in a blizzard might have a slight edge. </div>Mom 1.0 was a quintessential Brooklyn girl by way of old Romania and eventually became a stalwart 50's housewife, which included the wearing of pillbox hats on special occasions. She was already at work teaching me how to make the old Jewish family recipes when all I could manage was to toddle by her fabulous red shoes on the kitchen floor. It was never too soon to learn the heart and soul of those old recipes along with handy kitchen skills that serve me still. She could roll strudel pastry so thin you could see through it – all without tearing the dough. <br />
She baked special <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/2010/02/10/valentines_cupcake_open2010/index.html">Valentine cupcakes</a> and provided mom-made matching clothing for both of us that was as good as couture. She inherited the dress making gene from her mother and aunts. Frail and ill, she died way too young and missed out on the best years with her children and grandchildren. <br />
But her kitchen spirit carries on in my heart every time I bake <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2010/01/05/open2010_adas_brownies/index.html">Ada’s brownies</a>, or when I roll out her strudel dough. And sometimes I swear I can hear her <strike>snicker</strike> smile as I add one more giant spoonful of chocolate to her brownie recipe. <br />
The Ad Man remarried just a year after my mother died. Enter the very young, but determined Step-Mother. Mom 2.0 arrived just as I was turning into a pubescent cacophony of attitude-ness. If ever there was a poster child for wicked step-daughter, it would have been me. I give her a standing ovation for patience, fortitude, along with a medal of valor for keeping the worst of my dirty tricks from my father. I did take away more pearls of wisdom from Mom 2.0 than I’ve ever admitted. I learned that women could work in the outside world and be equal to men, especially in the Ad Man's world. That the art of a negotiation is nothing without charm, grace and kindness - all attributes she taught me. <br />
I also learned supermarket 101; shop early and there will always be HoHos. That Red Jell-O mixed with cool whip was a dessert that never went bad, even if stored in the back of the refrigerator for weeks. And brisket has a sense of humor. She taught me that the biggest lesson of all – that I could count on her to have my back. I call it a mom thing.<br />
And then along came the <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/2010/03/02/the_tart_will_be_lemon/index.html">lemon loving in-laws</a> and mom 3.0 – the granola version. I’ve known my mother-in-law since I was fifteen years old. Even back in the day when no one was sure that our teenage marriage would last the length of a teenage attention span, she was there. She introduced me to natural foods, co-ops, bread baking, homemade yogurt, granola and raspberries fresh from the backyard bushes. <br />
She taught me how to warp a loom which I promptly forgot. She tried to teach me to sew, sure that latent DNA would kick in. It did not. So she created mom-made clothes for her granddaughters so they wouldn’t be embarrassed with stuff I tried to make. She taught me how to bake a pie. She showed me how both mayonnaise and lemon could partner with almost every food and make it oddly better. She gave me my first Christmas stocking with trinkets that made all my childhood Santa dreams come true. But most of all, she gave me her son – willingly. <br />
I honor my three moms this Mother’s Day with a pastry that has something for each of them. For Mom 1.0 this contains a stellar crust similar to her old fashioned rugelach, but with a twist. For Mom 2.0 it has a fabulous raspberry-mascarpone whip, sort of like that red Jell-O with cool whip, but tastier and a shorter shelf life. And for Mom 3.0, the mascarpone is loaded with lots of her favorite condiment, lemon. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="rasptartC" height="331" hspace="5px" id="cid_584048" src="http://open.salon.com/files/rasptartc1272769164.jpg" width="442" /></div><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><strong>My Three Moms Mascarpone-Berry Tart </strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em>Ingredients</em></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Tart Shell</strong></div><ul><li>8 tablespoons cold unsalted butter</li>
<li>4 tablespoons vegetable shortening</li>
<li>1 cup almond flour</li>
<li>1 cup flour (gluten free flour, plus a pinch of xanthan gum)</li>
<li>¼ cup ice water (more if necessary)</li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Filling</strong></div><ul><li>1 cup mascarpone cheese</li>
<li>1/3 cup powdered sugar sifted</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla</li>
<li>1 tablespoon lemon juice</li>
<li>1/2 teaspoon almond flavoring</li>
<li>zest of one large lemon</li>
<li>2-4 pints fresh, very ripe berries (I like raspberries)</li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em>Directions</em></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Tart Shell</strong></div>In a food processor pulse together flour & almond meal. Cut shortening and butter into small pieces and add. Pulse in short bursts until it resembles corn meal. Add ice water, a little at a time. Pulse until it comes together in a ball.<br />
Remove to parchment paper and gather dough until it is all incorporated. Split into two pieces. Flatten each ball slightly, wrap in plastic or parchment and refrigerate for at least an hour. Dough will keep for a few days in the refrigerator and longer in the freezer.<br />
Remove one disk from refrigerator and rest 20 minutes at room temperature. Place in 9 inch tart pan or in several small tart pans. Press to fit. Place on cookie sheet. Freeze for 20 minutes. <br />
Preheat oven to 350. Bake straight from freezer about 30 minutes or until lightly brown. Remove and cool completely.<br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><strong>Filling</strong></div>Put all the ingredients except berries in a bowl and whisk until fluffy. Add in about 1/3 of the berries and fold with a spatula until incorporated, but some berries remain whole. Spoon a thin layer into cooled tart shell(s). Top with whole or cut berries. <br />
Fill the same day you are serving. Shells can be baked a day ahead. Store in a tin.<br />
Refrigerate filled tarts. Let rest at room temperature for 30 minutes before serving. <br />
Serve plain or with whipped cream. <br />
<strong>Notes:</strong> You can find tart shells in the freezer at the grocery. Bake and cool before filling. Optional: drizzle honey over the top, add whipped cream, or spoon <a href="http://find.myrecipes.com/recipes/recipefinder.dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=549771">macerated berries</a> over the top. <br />
Bon appétit and Happy Mother’s Day<br />
<div> <div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-86607775436541152872010-05-06T10:31:00.000-07:002010-05-06T10:31:22.129-07:00Wayward Violinist Meets Fudgy Pudding Cake<div class="rate clearfix"> <span style="float: left; margin-left: 5px; margin-right: 5px; text-align: right;"><span style="font: bold 11px/18px verdana,sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase;"></span><span><br />
</span> </span> <span class="share" style="text-align: right;"> <!-- <a class="myyahoo" href="http://add.my.yahoo.com/rss?url="> </a> --> <!-- <a class="buzzit" href="#"> </a> --> </span> </div><form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/04/26/wayward_violinist_meets_fudgy_pudding_cake#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="annieviolinD" height="362" hspace="5px" id="cid_577201" src="http://open.salon.com/files/annieviolind1272257362.jpg" width="362" /><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh? Really? Not B minor? <br />
</div>We come from a long line of classically trained, yet fickle musicians. We play instruments, compose, and some have even (briefly) attended Julliard. Careers as virtuosos don't happen in our family, but it is almost mandatory that an instrument be handed to a child at a young age, nonetheless. Careful not to anger the musical spirits of the ancestors, we enrolled the 4 year-old in a Suzuki string methods class. <br />
The child attended philharmonic concerts from the age of three, sitting with us in our steeply student-discounted seats. Fidget free; she seemed taken with string instruments. When asked which her favorite string instrument was, she eagerly pointed a chubby finger at the violin section. Or so we thought.<br />
On her first day of class she talked nonstop about getting her new violin - just like the philharmonic musicians. She skipped into class, dragging us by the hand. The teacher proudly presented the child with her first <em>violin</em>; a brand new 6-inch cigar box wrapped in wood-grain contact paper with a ruler sticking out of the end for the neck. The bow? A skinny little stick. <br />
The child's face was pinching into the look that happens right before she melts into tears. She squinted at us like we had offered her worms sautéed with peas for dinner. Oblivious, the teacher sealed the meltdown by giving her a cardboard circle with two feet drawn in marker – a diagram for her stand on to get into the correct form for playing the violin. <br />
We weren’t even worthy of her pitiful look anymore. Stifling a hiccup/sigh, she turned away and merely stared at the ground. Little tears fell on the floor. Did our health insurance cover therapy for victims of well meaning, but really stupid parents?<br />
Her homework was to practice holding the pretend violin correctly using all the props. The girl was beside herself with misery, but she diligently practiced.<span> </span><br />
Her younger sister borrowed the <em>violin</em> daily for special projects, like smashing spiders. She broke it so often we finally ran out of duct tape. We also went through 3 containers of pick-up-sticks as substitute bows before we realized that the deviously clever little sister was using them as lock picks. Obviously, her career would clearly not be in music. <br />
Finally, the 4 year old graduated to her first ¼ sized violin. <br />
Have you heard the catchy tune, Mississippi Hot Dog? It goes like this; mis-sis-sip-pi-hot-dog. Repeat, a lot. If you’ve not had the pleasure of listening to a pint sized violinist play it (badly) four hundred times in a row, consider yourself lucky. It is hard to screw up the tune since it involves one solitary note. But given how many ways there is to bow a string on a violin, chaos will ensue; as in your ears will bleed.<br />
Eventually, she was fiddling reasonably well and liked to practice with the door closed because she was shy. Each day it seemed like the sound got more muffled. That should have been a clue. <br />
Imagine my surprise when I opened the door to find her in the closet sitting on pint sized chair. The little violin was now playing the role of cello.<span> </span>That’s right. Apparently she didn't have the heart to tell us that we'd been mistaken. She wasn't pointing to the violins at the philharmonic. She was pointing beyond the violins and the violas to the <em>cellos</em>.<br />
We made a deal. She could play cello right after she finished the classes we had already purchased. Mississippi Hot Dog? Sounds exactly the same on the cello as it does on the violin. <br />
Perhaps she had the right idea with that closet. Julliard would not be calling. <br />
The other thing the wayward young musician and her lock-picking sister had to look forward to on Suzuki concert days was Uncle Jake’s dessert. He came to most of the concerts and always brought dessert. <span> </span>Knowing that fudgy cake was waiting for us at home made 30 kids sawing away in unison (sort of) at Mississippi Hot Dog tolerable. Almost.<br />
The cake uses ingredients that are usually in the cupboard. Serve warm with a favorite ice cream, whipped cream or fresh berries. Or all of the above. <br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="puddingcakeB" height="307" hspace="5px" id="cid_576917" src="http://open.salon.com/files/puddingcakeb1272236972.jpg" width="433" /></div><div align="center"> <strong>Jake’s Fudgy Pudding Cake</strong></div><strong><em>Ingredients </em></strong><br />
Cake: <br />
<ul><li>1 cup flour or gluten free flour (don't add xanthan gum to this!)</li>
<li>1.5 teaspoons baking powder</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
<li>½ cup white sugar</li>
<li>3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa</li>
<li>½ cup whole milk</li>
<li>2 tablespoons butter melted</li>
<li>1.5 teaspoons vanilla</li>
<li>1 teaspoon Godiva liquor (optional)</li>
</ul>Topping:<br />
<ul><li>1 cup brown sugar </li>
<li>4 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa</li>
<li>1.5 cups boiling water</li>
</ul><strong><em>Directions</em></strong><br />
Preheat oven to 350.<span> </span>Grease an 8x8 pan.<span> </span>Mix together flour, baking powder, salt, white sugar, cocoa.<span> </span>Add in milk, butter, liquor and vanilla.<span> </span>Stir.<span> </span>Pat evenly into prepared pan.<span> </span>Mix together cocoa and brown sugar making sure no lumps remain.<span> </span>Sprinkle on top of batter.<span> </span>Pour 1 cup plus a scant half cup of boiling water over the top.<span> </span>Place in oven and bake for about 35 minutes.<span> </span><br />
Cool for about 5-10 minutes and scoop and serve.<span> </span>Best served slightly warm.<span> </span>It will be gooey.<span> </span>Serves 9-12.<span> </span><br />
Bon appétit. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="puddingcakeA" height="533" hspace="5px" id="cid_576916" src="http://open.salon.com/files/puddingcakea1272236956.jpg" width="400" /></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-22103823125964943772010-05-06T10:29:00.001-07:002010-05-06T10:29:40.445-07:00Horsing Around with Cornbread<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/04/19/horsing_around_with_cornbread#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"> <img alt="RikerB" height="267" hspace="5px" id="cid_569177" src="http://open.salon.com/files/rikerb1271701686.jpg" width="375" /><br />
<em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">remind me - what's next?</span></em></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">It was a charming 1800's Saltbox abandoned mid-renovation. Set on acres of field and woods, the house's real age could be carbon-dated by the number of field stones missing in the foundation. The glass-half-full realtor <em>almost</em> convinced us that missing stones meant natural fresh air for the cellar. We imagined picnics in fields of wildflowers, hikes through the woods and acres of gardens. So what if our water supply was some stream up in the wooded hillside? Unlike our old Victorian in the city, this was a country house with two (almost functional) bathrooms and we bought it. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">We wore out two entire sets of friends finishing the renovations. Too bad not one of us realized that streams freeze in the winter and therefore so would our pipes. When the first thaw occurred we made improvements to the water supply and our thoughts turned to the acres of land.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The place screamed for barnyard animals. The homestead came with two barns, not quite finished falling down. We voted. No chickens because the oldest child was a newly minted vegetarian. Our rabbits kept dying from frightful night noises from the woods. Goats were mean. Sheep were hairy and smelled. We finally decided on a horse because it would not only <em>look</em> awfully Ralph Lauren but chestnut would accent the new color of the house. There <em>are</em> dumber reasons.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Learning quantum physics would have been simpler than taking on one Quarter horse named Bones (as in Star Trek Doctor McCoy Bones). He ate a lot more than dogs and didn't come when called. Apparently some horses are quite clever at undoing gate latches even if the fences are electrified. And they eat flowers and vegetable gardens. The horse developed quite the attitude when he realized we were neophytes in all things equestrian and took full advantage of our stupidity. Once in a while one of us would look out a window only to see a big horse face staring back at us, lips on the glass. The escapee had no shame begging for treats.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One Vermont photo-perfect fall morning I was in the kitchen making corn bread, looking out the window marveling at my young daughter slow walking in the field on her horse. They ambled behind a bump in the terrain out of view. Suddenly, out whooshes a galloping Bones with….wait. No rider? Blink, blink. I see it. There are human feet and hands. The horse turns and I see the blur of child and saddle, perpendicular to where she should be riding and parallel to the ground. The horse is galloping and she is hanging on for dear life. I manage to throw myself out the door just in time to see her flying over the top of the horse into the tall grass. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">My brain is not processing this as quickly as it should. I am sidetracked by Bones. I only see the front end of the horse and it looks like he is sitting in the grass like some 1000 pound overgrown puppy. My brain, mesmerized by a sitting horse, almost misses my girl as she pops up with a bounce from the field and yells out in one breath - MOMMM! BONES IS SITTING AND HE WON’T LISTEN TO ME! MOMMM! Bones turns to me (I swear on all things chocolate) and winks before gracefully getting up and snorting at the child. Totally docile he lets her walk him back to the paddock.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Bones escaped regularly. When he wasn’t at a window begging, he would be somewhere close by eating someone’s garden. We’d be outside roaming the dirt road calling out his name. Soon enough someone would reply loudly through the woods which echoed better than any AT&T 3G service today. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We called it crystal clear woods-wireless. However, the traditional Vermont-speak was a little harder to decipher.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;">"Heh thair-uh? Yauh haawse iz't faam-uh Roy'z-uh god-en. Ahyup." </div><div style="line-height: normal;">Translated? Bones is eating Farmer Roy's flower garden. Again.</div>Double duty electrified, triple duty latches were installed later that day. We found Bones the next morning, once again on the other side of the fence eating the last of our stumpy vegetable garden. The only thing still growing unharmed was zucchini which even the horse wouldn’t eat. <br />
<div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Not long after, Bones went to a home far better suited to his needs. Happily, the child moved on from horses to kittens. Not only did felines eat less, they never had any interest in the flower or vegetable gardens. More my kind of barn yard critter.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Just for payback, every once in a while Farmer Roy let his cows wander into our field, right up to the back door. There is nothing quite like opening the door early in the morning only to be greeted by a herd of 1200-pound cows chewing on the rose bushes. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Those woodsy hikes? Overrun with bramble and poison oak. Picnics in the fields? Lots of field mice and really <em>really</em> big snakes. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">On cold mornings we still make a batch of cornbread almost the same way we did back then, slathered with fresh butter and jam. The only thing missing is a horse named Bones staring in through the window, and a herd of Holsteins knocking at the back door. </span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">The cornbread can be made gluten free and is best served warm. Serve with softened butter – European is tastiest, and a little bit of your favorite jam.</span></div><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"> <img alt="cornbreadB" height="339" hspace="5px" id="cid_569204" src="http://open.salon.com/files/cornbreadb1271702284.jpg" width="453" /><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></strong></div><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Fletcher Fields Corn Bread</span></strong></div><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">(Albers Brand Cornbread Recipe, modified)</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Ingredients</span></em></strong></div><ul><li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 cup yellow corn meal (Albers is great)</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 cup flour (or gluten free flour plus a pinch of xanthan gum)</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1/3 cup brown sugar packed</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Heaping tablespoon baking powder</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Pinch of salt</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 cup milk (for gluten free reduce milk to ¾ cup)</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1/3 cup vegetable oil or melted butter</span></li>
<li style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">1 large egg lightly beaten (2 eggs if using gluten free method)</span></li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;"> <em>Directions </em></span></strong></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place an 8x8 ceramic pan with a pat of butter in the oven to melt. Swish it around to coat the bottom. Don’t let the butter burn.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Whisk together dry ingredients in one bowl. Whisk wet ingredients together in another bowl. Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture and whisk those together until no lumps remain. Pour into buttered and still hot baking dish. Bake until toothpick comes out clean, about 20 minutes. Cool about 5 minutes and cut into 9 pieces.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt;">Bon appétit!</span></div><div style="line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><a href="http://www.statcounter.com/"><img alt="free hit
counters" src="http://c.statcounter.com/5794088/0/7cdd4abd/1/" /></a> </div><h3>Author tags:</h3><span><a href="http://open.salon.com/showcontent.php?tag_id=180023">horse lips are big</a>, <a href="http://open.salon.com/showcontent.php?tag_id=180022">yeah i'm hungry now</a>, <a href="http://open.salon.com/showcontent.php?tag_id=180021">breakfast cornbr</a></span>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-66667605243866564702010-05-06T10:28:00.000-07:002010-05-06T10:28:15.078-07:00Imps Go Rogue With Chocolate Nut Cookies<form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/04/12/imps_go_rogue_with_chocolate_nut_cookies#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="impsC" height="293" hspace="5px" id="cid_561213" src="http://open.salon.com/files/impsc1271115913.jpg" width="391" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <em>one of these imps is not like the other</em> </div><div> </div><div>They were relying on the neighborhood imp to lead the expedition off the block and into the city wilderness. The imp, the one who had the most success regularly breaching the border, was me. Grasping hands, we went rogue. Stepping jauntily out of bounds, we turned the corner and never looked back.</div>Stuffed into our pockets were boxes of raisins, several Kleenex, paperclips, rubber bands, mom’s chocolate nut cookies and one small apple. Two 4th grade outcast girls, one geeky 2nd grade ballerina, and a developmentally delayed 14-year-old boy made up our motley crew. <br />
Danny’s old sneaker soon started flapping as the sole separated from the canvas. <strike>MacGyver</strike> Alice secured it with rubber bands. Further along, Alice and Danny rounded up plenty of sidewalk insects, spiders and crustaceans to investigate. Alice jotted data in her little notepad. Danny was thrilled to be her science partner. My classmate, Shirley kept up the rear, loosening her tight ponytail. Unabashed, we trail blazed down one city street and then another.<br />
Danny's uniform of dungarees, old converse high tops, and a bright white tee shirt also included his version of a Gilligan hat to block the midmorning summer sun. I snuck glances at Danny, wondering if I could magically see the actual hole in his heart through his tee shirt. Shirley’s too small, faded battleship gray school dress with long sleeves was getting damp around the middle from the heat. Petite curly red-headed Alice had on pink shorts and a sleeveless button down (white) shirt with a pocket for her pencil and notepad. I was wearing my favorite mom-made polka-dot shorts and matching top. <br />
Two hours later, thirsty and sweaty we finally turned back onto our street from the lower end. Our parents were swarming all over the other end of the block calling out our names. My posse looked at me for a sign that we weren’t about to get sent to the stockade, but I think I let them down. I had told them at the beginning of the adventure that I was sure their parents would not mind us going on this hike. Add neighborhood<em> </em>hooligan-imp to my 4th grade resume. <br />
Alice’s mom was shooting me a murderous look. Danny’s mother, out of breath from running to reach us, gave me a look that only indicated half of what she really wanted to say, but didn’t. That look was worse than any punishment I would get. Shirley’s mom was standing in her doorway with a scowl that made both of us cringe. Shirley ran right home.<br />
My sentence was banishment to my room sans dinner and after that I was released to the <strike>prison</strike> back yard for two weeks. Mom brought me sandwiches and her wonderful chocolate nut cookies.<br />
The second day I pulled a patio chair to the back gate just so I could see freedom. I still felt the full weight of being the neighborhood kidnapper. Engrossed in a book, I didn’t hear Danny’s mom approach the gate.<br />
She stared at me for a moment with a much kinder look than the day before and threw a nickel at me. As she turned away she muttered something I couldn't hear. Red faced, I grabbed the nickel and stuck it in my pocket.<br />
Every time I came across that nickel, I thought of all the lessons I learned that day. From science geek Alice I discovered more insects than I ever wanted. From Danny, I learned that brain damaged doesn’t equal stupid and having a hole in one’s heart doesn’t mean it isn’t any less full. From Shirley I learned that money-poor could still mean you were a rich family, at least in cottage cheese and milk. Her dad was a milkman. And from my two week sentence I knew that reading books was a good way to free your mind from forced solitude. Especially when accompanied by chocolate cookies.<br />
Danny died a few years later from that hole in his heart. I think of him whenever I make this updated version of my mother's chocolate nut cookies. Danny ate every single one that day on our hike, and until my mother died she would bake extra just for him because he loved them that much. Eventually I learned why I had earned that nickel. He told his mother that it was the very best adventure he had ever had. That he got to be just like any ordinary boy that day. <br />
This modern version of my mother's chocolate nut cookie is flourless, fudgy and crisp-chewy. I think my old friends would like it. Alice would love the chemistry of why flourless works the way it does. Shirley would have loved to eat a cookie that someone else made. And Danny would love them because they are my mother's chocolate nut cookies, redux. We call this version Danny's Cookies, in honor of one extraordinary boy.<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"> <img alt="espressocookiesB" height="312" hspace="5px" id="cid_561197" src="http://open.salon.com/files/espressocookiesb1271114648.jpg" width="439" /></div><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><strong>Danny’s Flourless Chocolate Nut Cookies</strong></div><ul><li>4 large eggs, whites only</li>
<li>½ tablespoon each, almond & vanilla flavoring</li>
<li>3 cups powdered sugar, sifted</li>
<li>¾ cup of Valrhona unsweetened cocoa, sifted</li>
<li>pinch of salt</li>
<li>8 oz. of chopped nuts (optional)</li>
</ul><div style="line-height: normal;"><strong><em>Directions</em></strong></div>Preheat oven to 350. Turn oven down to 325 once the cookies go in.<br />
Sift powdered sugar into a large stand-mixer bowl. Sift cocoa on top. Add salt. Whisk together gently. In a separate small bowl mix the whites with the flavorings using a small whisk. With the whisk attachment on the stand-mixer on low, add in the whites mixture until fully incorporated. Turn mixer on medium high and whisk until glossy- just a couple of minutes. Stir in the chopped nuts with a wooden spoon.<br />
Drop by heaping tablespoons (or scoop) onto silpat or parchment lined baking sheet. Give them lots of space and limit to 5 per sheet. Makes about 15 large cookies. Feel free to downsize them and make a larger quantity. Flatten the dough slightly with a fork before baking – they will still spread into a thin cookie.<br />
Let them sit about 30 minutes before baking. <br />
Bake at 325 about 7-9 minutes for the large cookies, 6-8 minutes for smaller cookies. They will look gooey in the center. The tops will start to crack. Don’t over bake them!<br />
Be sure to let them get stone cold cool before you try to remove them. Peel the silpat or the parchment from the back of the cookie. Store in a tin. They taste the best on day two, so plan ahead.<br />
Bon appétit and here's to Danny's big heart!Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-15984447509926551572010-05-06T10:26:00.002-07:002010-05-06T10:26:59.482-07:00One Old House, Two Flying Girls and a Rocky Road<div class="rate clearfix"><span class="share" style="text-align: right;"> <!-- <a class="myyahoo" href="http://add.my.yahoo.com/rss?url="> </a> --> <!-- <a class="buzzit" href="#"> </a> --> </span> </div><form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/04/05/one_old_house_two_flying_girls_and_a_rocky_road#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="anniecory1982vermont" height="255" hspace="5px" id="cid_551986" src="http://open.salon.com/files/anniecory1982vermont1270503920.jpg" width="358" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>two small flying girls, one old house & a (hot) dog</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>One old house and a crumbling barn were all that remained of the original 150 year old farmstead. For all the wrong reasons we bought the place. Located on the curb of a busy intersection, there was little privacy. Windows, open all summer let in the traffic noise and odor. The plows constantly piled up the snow so that shoveling a small path to the door was an exercise in futility. With little insulation it was a freezing in the winter. No energy stars for that old house. But even with all the quirks and general disrepair it was a whimsical little home. The front had two separate porches. One led to the front door, the other to the kitchen door. People often came soliciting to both doors thinking the house was two apartments. Weren’t they surprised when the same little girl(s) opened both doors? <br />
Upstairs, we fixed up a tiny space with a window overlooking newly planted shrubs and turned it into a sunny dollhouse-sized playroom. The old house had a hole from the dollhouse room floor into the kitchen to migrate the heat from the single woodstove located downstairs. The hole had an old iron grate, and was big enough for the cats to drop through onto the kitchen table. While we were used to the cats jumping through the hole, it did startle visitors when a gray and white fur ball came flying through the ceiling. <br />
Baking brownies with tiny marshmallows one fall day, I lost track of the chatter from the two little girls above. That is, until I heard a deafening screech that certainly sounded like a feline, but was not. A child ran into the kitchen from the back porch. You can’t actually get outside except through the kitchen from upstairs. My brain addled through the logic. The conclusion was heart stopping. <br />
<ol><li>Children upstairs. </li>
<li>Children now outside. </li>
<li>Hole in ceiling only big enough for cat. </li>
<li>Did not exit, apparently, through any door (or hole). </li>
<li>Craptastic.</li>
</ol>The story was revealed through giggles and tears. Tossing your sister out the 2<sup>nd</sup> story window was the theme of the day. And I have those <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/2010/03/02/the_tart_will_be_lemon">lemon loving in-laws</a> to thank for that. Since they could never remember the words to all the traditional nursery rhymes, they ended each the same way. And taught the little girls every single rhyme with this ending:<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.7in 10pt;"><em>Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet eating her curds and whey.</em></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.7in 10pt;"><em>Along came a spider, sat down beside her & threw her out the window.</em></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.7in 10pt;"><em>The window. The 2<sup>nd</sup> story window.</em></div>Turns out one girl threw the other and then jumped after her. Landing in those most forgiving shrubs saved both from breaking their little necks. The poor shrubs took it on the chin and survived and even seemed to thrive.<br />
Though we carefully discussed why tossing someone out a 2<sup>nd</sup> story window was not such a peachy idea, I am pretty sure they continued to jump out that window based on the condition of the shrubs throughout the fall. I can only imagine what passing motorists thought when they were treated to the flying sisters’ act. I’m grateful no one called child services. <br />
The last Google earth picture of the house shows that the porches finally fell off and weren’t replaced. But those shrubs are still there, bigger than ever. <br />
Any time I bake with marshmallows I think of the two small flying Wallenda peanuts, the old house that will probably still never receive any energy stars, and most of all, those wonderful little shrubs. <br />
I’m also quite grateful that the lemon loving in-laws redacted the 2nd story window ending to all things nursery rhyme. <br />
<div align="center"> <img alt="RockyRoadC" height="324" hspace="5px" id="cid_551991" src="http://open.salon.com/files/rockyroadc1270504043.jpg" width="456" /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><strong>Rocky Road Squares with Coconut, Gluten Free</strong></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;">(adapted from Alice Medrich’s Cookies and Brownie Book)</div><strong><em>Ingredients</em></strong><br />
<ul><li>1 cup of graham cracker crumbs (Gluten Free Girl<a href="http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/2010/01/gluten-free-graham-crackers.html"> Recipe here</a>)</li>
<li>½ cup finely shredded unsweetened coconut</li>
<li> <span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span>4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted</li>
<li> <span> </span>2-3 tablespoons sugar</li>
<li>1 cup coarsely chopped nuts </li>
<li>1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips</li>
<li> <span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span>2 cups mini marshmallows (make sure they're gluten free)</li>
</ul><strong><em>Directions</em></strong><br />
Preheat oven to 350. In a small bowl combine the coconut, graham cracker crumbs, sugar and stir in melted butter. Pour into an 8x8 pan lined with a foil or parchment liner that comes up the sides and press firmly. Bake 15-20 minutes until lightly browned.<br />
Remove from oven. Place one cup of the marshmallows on the crust. Alternate the nuts and chocolate and remaining marshmallows on top and return to the oven. Bake until chocolate is soft and marshmallows are slightly toasted and melted.<br />
Cool in the pan until stone cold! Using the parchment or foil liner remove from the pan. Cut into 16 squares using a serrated knife. <br />
<strong>Notes:</strong> <a href="http://glutenfreegirlabout.blogspot.com/">Gluten Free Girl and the Chef’s website</a> is full of wonderful recipes and information for celiacs and the gluten intolerant. For her graham cracker recipe, I use brown sugar to replace most of the honey, although you should keep some in the recipe – it adds a nice flavor. I double the recipe. I leave out the final sugar cinnamon dusting. Best gluten free graham cracker recipe out there! <br />
<div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="alexceiling" hspace="5px" id="cid_552363" src="http://open.salon.com/files/alexceiling1270523693.jpg" width="285" /></div><div align="center"><em>cat orbiting through ceiling holes </em></div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-60025079107848782672010-05-06T10:26:00.000-07:002010-05-06T10:26:02.163-07:00The Passover Story: Carp, Lemon & Coconut<span class="share" style="text-align: right;"><!-- <a class="myyahoo" href="http://add.my.yahoo.com/rss?url="> </a> --> <!-- <a class="buzzit" href="#"> </a> --> </span> <form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/03/29/the_passover_story_carp_lemon_coconut#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form><div class="pbody" id="pbody"> <div style="text-align: center;"> <img alt="lisa1962sepia" height="299" hspace="5px" id="cid_543491" src="http://open.salon.com/files/lisa1962sepia1269915682.jpg" width="418" /> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <em>circa 1962, practicing the four questions on my unimpressed friend </em><br />
</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Whitefish, carp and pike are swimming circles in the bathtub. The house cleaning takes on a fevered pitch as every last leavened crumb is vacuumed. As the sound of the Hoover reaches the hallway, that is the five minute warning. I scoop up the toys from my closet floor where I covertly (or so I thought) eat sandwiches and cookies. The year before, along with the secret stash of crumbs, I also lost all my fabulous Barbie stilettos to the Hoover.</div> The Jewish year is 5722 (1962) and <a href="http://www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/default_cdo/jewish/Passover.htm">Passover</a> is approaching. <br />
Preparing the Seder feast in advance, I watch my mother make chicken soup with matzo balls, dress chickens for roasting, and scoop potato kugel into casseroles. Thankfully, the family gets the bathtub back because Mom is finally using the very um, fresh whitefish, carp and pike to make homemade gefilte fish. Dessert is cardboard sponge cake, sweet and gritty with no flavor. Manischewitz canned macaroons on the side. <br />
The evening of the first Seder arrives. I am sitting at one end of the small Passover table, squeezed between <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/2010/02/24/gluten_free_rugelach_open2010">Fake Aunt Hope</a> and my brother who seems to have eaten beans the day before. My 6-year-old stomach is churning from hunger and stage fright. As the youngest child I will recite the <a href="http://www.angelfire.com/pa2/passover/thefourquestions.html">four questions</a> from the Passover service booklet, the <a href="http://www.jewishpress.com/pageroute.do/31383/">Maxwell House</a> (yes, coffee)<a href="http://www.asktherabbi.org/DisplayQuestion.asp?ID=853"> Haggadah</a>. As the service drones on past my bedtime, I am so sleepy that all I want to do is lean on my brother and close my eyes, no matter how much he stinks. <br />
Finally, all eyes turn to me. I squeak out the first questions in a whisper. <em>Why is this night different from all other nights and why is it that on all other nights during the year we eat either bread or matzoh, but on this night we eat only matzoh?</em> My elderly faux Uncle yells out <em>“can’t hear you, missy!”</em> Beet red and humiliated, I stutter, making my voice crack. Now I imagine that everyone thinks I am on the verge of tears. I am.<br />
The <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/feature/2010/01/05/open2010_adas_brownies">Ad Man</a> purses his ridiculously large lips, my mother audibly holds her breath, my brothers stifle giggles, and Fake Aunt Hope leans over and pats my arm enveloping me in her stinky perfume. I push the Haggadah up to my nose, adjust my geeky glasses, take a deep breath and loudly mumble each question into the fold of the book. <br />
As the 4<sup>th</sup> glass of sticky sweet Mogen David <strike>swill</strike> wine is poured, the front door is opened to welcome the phantom Prophet <a href="http://www.chabad.org/holidays/passover/pesach_cdo/aid/504495/jewish/Why-is-Elijah-invited-in-during-the-seder.htm">Elijah</a> who whooshes in, drinks up his wine with a little help from Fake Aunt Hope and apparently leaves as the door is closed. We are all awake now from the cold rush of air - it is the middle of April and snowing in Syracuse. <br />
Everyone raises their wine tumbler in a final toast - <em>Next year in Jerusalem! </em>they shout with imbibed enthusiasm. And it is finally time for dinner. The feast’s perfume has overtaken Fake Aunt Hope’s cloying scent and on this night, I am a grateful little girl. <br />
But Passover isn’t over just yet. For seven days I construct matzo sandwiches for lunches. Tuna on matzo. Peanut butter and jelly on matzo. Egg salad on matzo. Ham and swiss on matzo. Ok, kidding about that one. <br />
Try eating a matzo sandwich. It's a little like taking forty ritz crackers taping them together and smashing some filling inside, picking it up and crunching. The only possible outcome is a pile of crumbs. I use the matzo as the placemat and eat the filling with my fingers. <br />
Over the years, Passover became more about how to make the food a little more interesting and still maintain the religious traditions. We tuned up the lowly, cloyingly sweet macaroon and made it a spring time delight. It has a deep coconut flavor infused with (Meyer) lemon.<br />
Now, if only someone could think of a way to make matzo a little more interesting.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="lemonmacaroonsD" height="341" hspace="5px" id="cid_543087" src="http://open.salon.com/files/lemonmacaroonsd1269894475.jpg" width="453" /></div><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"> <strong>Coconut Lemon Macaroons </strong></div><ul><li style="line-height: normal;">2 large eggs, separated, using whites only</li>
<li style="line-height: normal;">½ cup white sugar plus 2 tablespoons</li>
<li style="line-height: normal;">1 teaspoon almond flavoring</li>
<li style="line-height: normal;">Zest from 2-3 lemons (Meyers are perfect)</li>
<li style="line-height: normal;">3 cups flaked unsweetened coconut (Bob’s Red Mill)</li>
<li style="line-height: normal;">Pinch of salt</li>
</ul><strong><em>Directions</em></strong><br />
Preheat oven to 350. Turn oven down to 325 once the cookies go in.<br />
Mix the sugar and the lemon zest with your fingers in a large bowl. Let the two infuse for about 5 minutes. Then, with a wooden spoon, mix in all the remaining ingredients until thoroughly incorporated. With wet hands gather a scant ¼ cup of coconut dough and form into haystacks on a silpat or parchment lined baking sheet. Pinch the tops to form loose haystacks (keep your fingers wet). Let sit for about 45 minutes before baking. Bake about 20 minutes at 325. Turn oven off and let macaroons sit until lightly brown about 10 minutes longer. Remove from oven and cool. Makes about 12 large macaroons.<br />
<br />
Bon appétit and happy Pesach.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.statcounter.com/blogger/"><img alt="counter to
blogspot" src="http://c.statcounter.com/5727647/0/049c98d6/1/" /></a> </div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2639958533858153088.post-62692451815414684272010-05-06T10:24:00.001-07:002010-05-06T10:24:56.774-07:00Hatching a Baby Lemon Square<div class="rate clearfix"><span class="share" style="text-align: right;"> <!-- <a class="myyahoo" href="http://add.my.yahoo.com/rss?url="> </a> --> <!-- <a class="buzzit" href="#"> </a> --> </span> </div><form method="post" name="abuse_form' action="> <div id="report_abuse_div" style="display: none;"> <fieldset> <div>Click "Submit Abuse" if you feel this post is inappropriate. Explain why below if you wish.</div><textarea cols="30" name="abuse" rows="5"></textarea> <div class="actions"> <input class="call" name="rptabuse" type="submit" value="Submit Abuse" /> <a href="http://open.salon.com/blog/luluandphoebe/2010/03/22/hatching_a_baby_lemon_square#" onclick="$('report_abuse_div').toggle(); return false;">Cancel</a> </div></fieldset></div></form> <div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="oldtimannie" height="346" hspace="5px" id="cid_532912" src="http://open.salon.com/files/oldtimannie1269223589.jpg" width="346" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">baby Annie with (skinny) lemon loving dad, circa 1975 <br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div>Those three daily doses (or more) of chocolate throughout my pregnancy were as necessary as prenatal vitamins. Or so I suggested to my doctor. My impossibly curly hair frizzed at just the whisper of the word humidity and I couldn’t stand the sight of lemons (or fish) for those nine months. The extended in-law family of lemon lovers were kind enough to accommodate me, but barely. <br />
The first clue that DNA has a sense of humor was when the child was born 4 weeks late with a full head of stick straight dark hair and needed her bangs cut so we could see the color of her eyes (brown). <br />
But that crazy genetic lottery surely had the last laugh. The chocolate addicted, frizzy-haired 19-year-old new mom gave birth to a child who loved lemon as much, or more than her grandparents and father. Sure, the child still enjoys chocolate and will swill it alongside her mother with gusto. But, through the DNA roulette, we had apparently hatched an 8 pound lemon loving baby. <span> </span>She arrived into this world craving all things lemon.<br />
Little Annie would sit in her high chair, impatient for dinner to arrive. We peppered her with appetizers, cheerios or tiny pieces of fruit and veggies. The child threw all those unfortunate morsels on the floor. Minus a dog to clean it up, that certainly got old. One day, at the <a href="http://www.salon.com/food/2010/03/02/the_tart_will_be_lemon">lemon loving in-laws</a> there was a bowl of (oh, do guess) lemons on the table in front of the child. The baby pointed and grunted until some obliging adult who would not be me, gave her a lemon. A whole lemon.<br />
It was difficult for me to look both amused and scowl at the same time. I couldn’t believe they gave her a lemon and thought it was cute. She rolled it around for a bit and then with that special look in her eye that only a mother knows, and before I could grab it from her hands, she shoved the whole thing into her mouth and bit down. I expected a cacophony of unhappy screaming to ensue, but before I could reach her highchair, she was grinning, giggling and biting the thing again. The other adults clapped with unrestrained glee for the tiny heir apparent. I stood there stunned. How in the world could a 6-month-old like the taste of lemon? She continued to bite down with the few teeth she possessed until a hole was drilled in the lemon and juice started squirting out. Everywhere.<br />
My mother in law cut the beleaguered lemon into fistful sized wedges and the heir apparent grandbaby grabbed as many as she could in her tiny fat fists. She gummed those wedges until her lips were puckered, cooing and giggling the entire time. Her clothes were bleached where the juice dripped, and she was totally pickled by the time I removed her from the highchair. <br />
The stuffy professor family was all too dignified to high five one another. Instead they did that head nodding thing at one another with a look that said – we’re so proud! She’s got the right genes after all! Smiling at the chocolate loving daughter-in-law, I knew they were calculating the odds of whether the next dessert at our house would be lemon or chocolate. The smile, of course, was because they figured lemon to be the odds on winner. <br />
That same fateful evening, my mother-in-law whipped up lemon squares. I never used to enjoy those lemon squares because I swear she always left out the sugar. She, on the other hand, swears that there is sugar in them. Does a teaspoon count? <br />
I drew a line at other lemon surprises though, and the family was considerate enough, most of the time, to not cross it. I got used to lemon bits in the strangest places, like yellow cake, on top of fresh berries and in every single frozen dessert. Apparently farm fresh strawberries were too sweet for my mother-in-law? <br />
Those first few years I worked hard to impress my in-laws by bringing them lemon pie once in a while. But as time flew by, and we all got a little older, some of us (read: me) got a little more acquainted with lemons and branched out from lemon pie. I discovered a lemon square recipe that is actually tart enough to suit my mother- in-law’s palate yet sweet enough for me if I use Meyer lemons.<br />
Since I know that the first thing Grandpa asks for is lemon pie when he arrives, I will happily make him some Meyer Lemon Squares next time they visit.<br />
The child eventually moved on from cooing to talking. <em>Backle</em> was Annie’s first word. Which I am sure when translated from baby-speak, meant apple. However, some people in the family still insist it means lemon. <br />
Sadly, the adult version of the child breaks out with hives after eating lemon wedges. No need to be disappointed. I hear they hide the bowls of lime wedges at the bars she frequents in the French Quarter. Apparently, limes wedges are the new lemon.<br />
However, please don’t tell her grandmother.<br />
These lemon squares are a gluten free adaptation of an <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/super-lemony-lemon-squares-recipe/index.html">Emeril Lagasse recipe</a>. They are made with a lot of butter. Rich and delicious, perhaps they should be called butter lemon squares? But whatever you call them, they are fantastically perfect for the lemon loving in-laws. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="lemonsuqareB" height="307" hspace="5px" id="cid_505843" src="http://open.salon.com/files/lemonsuqareb1267491603.jpg" width="432" /></div><div align="center"><strong>Gluten Free Meyer Lemon Squares</strong></div><div align="center"><em>(Adapted from Emeril Lagasse, 2004)</em></div><ul><li>1.5 sticks of unsalted butter cut into small chunks</li>
<li>1.5 cups gluten free flour without any cornstarch (or regular flour) plus 2 tablespoons</li>
<li>¼ teaspoon each xanthan & guar gum (if using gluten free flour)</li>
<li>½ cup confectioners’ sugar (sifted so all the lumps are gone)</li>
<li>¼ cup cornstarch</li>
<li>Pinch salt</li>
<li>5 eggs</li>
<li>1 and ¼ cups white sugar</li>
<li>1 tablespoon Meyer lemon zest</li>
<li>Generous 2/3 cup fresh Meyer lemon juice</li>
<li>¼ cup cream</li>
<li>1 tablespoon of lemon or other liqueur (I used orange and cherry)</li>
</ul>In a food processor mix up the flour, gums, confectioners’ sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Pulse to mix well. Add the butter pieces and pulse until it looks like coarse cornmeal.<br />
Prepare a 9x13 square baking pan by buttering the bottom and lining it with parchment paper which hangs over the sides (you will use that as a handle later to remove it from the pan. Butter the parchment paper, too. Drop in the coarse crumbs and press into the pan until it is solid. It will seem fragile, but don’t worry about it. Refrigerate it for about an hour.<br />
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees while it is chilling. Bake for about 20 minutes until it is slightly brown. <br />
While the crust is in the oven, in a separate bowl, mix the sugar and lemon zest with your fingers until it is fully incorporated. Let it sit for about 15 minutes to flavor the sugar. To that mixture, add the eggs, 2 tablespoons of flour and mix well. Add the lemon juice, cream and flavorings and mix well again.<br />
When the crust is lightly brown, remove from the oven and mix the topping one more time. <br />
Straining the filling through a mesh strainer, pour it gently over the crust and put it back in the oven. Bake at a reduced temperature, 325 degrees for about 20-25 minutes or just until the filling is set. Cool completely and take a knife to loosen the edges. Using the parchment paper, lift it out onto a cutting board carefully. Cut into squares. Top with additional, sifted powdered sugar when ready to serve. While there are usually none, do refrigerate any stray leftovers.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="grownannietim" height="332" hspace="5px" id="cid_532913" src="http://open.salon.com/files/grownannietim1269223605.jpg" width="332" /></div><div align="center">grown-up Annie with lemon loving dad, circa now </div>Lisa Stander-Horelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14977288146791772297noreply@blogger.com0