how to (mostly but not really) ruin bread

Bleary-eyed, I should have gone to bed a crazy hour ago, but as usual I'm smitten with must-have-recovery-time-itis and am staying up way past tired in order to .... um .... read facebook and tell you about today's bread-baking fail.

I was going to teach Spice, who is always eager to get her hands on a new kitchen skill.  Actually, Sugar was assigned to teach Spice, but then Sugar got wrapped up in making a K'Nex tow-truck for His Imperial Majesty Lil' Snip, and as I would always rather work in the kitchen than with toys of any kind (although I must admit that K'Nex and Legos, once you are roped into using them, are head and shoulders above *shudder* dolls), I quickly acquiesced to a change in plans:  K'Nex for Sugar, bread-baking lessons for me and Spice.

Spice eagerly located the recipe, read it twice per my instructions, and assembled her ingredients.  She measured and stirred like a pro, and only turned it over to me when her arm was exhausted.  I got the kneading started and then gave her a shot at it.  Her hands are still too small for a three-loaf batch of dough, but she gave it her best effort, and compensated nicely for her handicap.

We tucked it into the warmed oven to rise. . . .

. . . . came back at the timer's cue to punch down the bread and shape the loaves.  This time Spice just watched the shaping.  Another time or two, with her sharp eyes recording every nuance of motion, and she'll be ready to do it herself.  We set the resting loaves back into the oven to rise a second time, timer cued once more.

When it rang, I set the loaves on the counter, turned the oven on, and paid some bills while I waited for the "click" that signals the oven has reached temperature.  Placed the loaves into the heated oven, and then set the timer for 20 minutes - guesstimating because I'd let an known number of minutes go by before remembering the timer.

It called me back all too quickly and I pulled open the oven door to check them.  Wow, they got big ... but still too pale.  A few more minutes, then.

Five minutes later they were still awfully pale.  And then it dawned on me:

The oven was on WARM.

WARM.

Not, for instance, 350 degrees Fahrenheit, as the recipe specifies, and as I have successfully accomplished for each of the roughly 18 million previous times I've made bread.

Nope.  "Warm."

Well, there was nothing for it but to crank up the heat to 350 and hope for the best.  I mournfully apologized to Spice for ruining her first ever batch of bread, and she cheerfully offered to help me mix up another batch.



I am here to tell you that if you let bread rise for 30 minutes in an oven set on warm, after it has already risen for its allotted time of 30 minutes, and only then turn the heat on to the proper temperature . . . .

. . . . the world does not end.  The bread, despite my pessimistic certainty, was not even really ruined.  The center of each loaf will be too crumbly for sandwiches, to be sure, but it tastes great.  We'll snack on it, or at worst, turn it into bread crumbs for all those recipes that I don't use that require breadcrumbs.

So it often goes with life:  Something [small] goes awry.  Unplanned.  Skewed.  I lose my cool, convinced that all is now doomed.



And life goes blithely on, largely unaffected by the bumps in the road that I mistook for mountains.



{I dunno, ya think there's a lesson in here somewhere??}

the proper way to honor a potato

"Ahhh," says I, fully satiated after our supper of roasted red potatoes, peas, roast chicken, and watermelon, "now that was a meal!"

"Yup!" agrees Spice, "some people don't like to eat hearty, but we do!!"

She is right.  We do!  And if you, like us, enjoy eating "hearty", here is a recipe for your files:


Roasted Red Potatoes

(I'm pretty sure you will enjoy these no matter what kind of potatoes you use - I've used all kinds - but the ones we had tonight were especially spectacular, probably because my Farmer grew them in the richly pampered soil of the chemical-free CSA farm he manages a few miles from our house.  (click to visit the farm blog, facebook page, and local harvest listing)  They were tender-skinned red potatoes, a variety called Chieftain, turned out of the earth just days ago.)

So here's what you do:

Preheat the oven - 450 degrees Fahrenheit and not one degree less.  This is not the recipe to skip preheating.

Parboil the potatoes (we decided it must mean "partially boil" but never did look it up) - basically cook them in water so that they're not raw, but not perfectly soft, either.  If you're a purist, you'll boil them in their jackets (that's "skins" to us regular people).  If you're short on time, like I was, you'll cut them first - cubes, wedges, half-wedges, as you like 'em - and then parboil them.  Took about 10 minutes.

Drain the water (eternal optimist that I am, I saved the water for potato bread that I probably won't get around to making.  Feel free to pour yours down the pipes.)

Gently tumble the parboiled potatoes into a 9x13 glass pan (or if you like scrubbing, use a metal pan - do they even make those anymore?).

Add oil - peanut is what I used - and seasonings (I recommend salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder, and thyme).

Carefully turn the potatoes into the oil and seasonings.

Roast 40-60 minutes.  

Resist stirring, except for twice.  Trust me on this.  You will interfere with the incredible french-fry-like crust that forms if you stir too often.  So set your oven timer for 20 minutes and go read (or rot your brain on facebook or something).  You may stir when it rings, and not before!  Add more paprika if you want the potatoes to brown more, or faster.  Add oil (more peanut, or coconut) if your potatoes drank up their first dousing.  Then 20 more minutes of whatever, stir again, 20 more minutes and you're ready to call the family to the feast!

And a feast it is.  I sincerely hope that your roasted potatoes are every bit as satisfyingly delicious as ours were.

(We were too busy eating to take pictures at the table, and the only reason there were any potatoes left over to photograph later is because we were also eating roast chicken, our all-time favorite!)

(If you're a local reader, you can better your odds by signing up for a share at my Farmer's farm!  Late entries to the season are pro-rated.)

orange marmalade triple brownie torte

Sugar recently turned twelve, and to celebrate, we invented a cake as sweet and original as she is.  It got so many raves that I thought I'd share it with you .... the recipe, that is, since the cake itself is now just crumbs and a happy memory.

**

First, work up an appetite.  You're going to need it, along with a high tolerance for sweet things!

Next, set out four large eggs to come to room temperature.  (Or, if you're in a hurry - not that I'm ever in a hurry for brownies or anything - cover them with warmish water to bring them to room temperature.)

Melt 3/4 cup butter in a small saucepan, and stir into it 3/4 cup cocoa (Wilbur's is best, if you can get it).  Remove from heat and allow to cool at least somewhat.

Rub the sides of three 9" round cake pans with shortening, cut out parchment paper (wax paper will do in a pinch) in circles to fit inside the bottoms, and turn the oven on to 325 degrees Fahrenheit.

Into a large bowl, break the four eggs and sprinkle with 1/4 tsp. salt.  Beat until eggs are frothy and lemon-colored.  Gradually cream 2 cups of raw sugar and 1 tsp. of real vanilla into the beaten eggs.  Quickly fold in the butter-and-cocoa, then a cup of whole wheat flour and a half cup of chocolate chips (or more chocolate chips, if you have a death-by-chocolate wish), just till evenly blended.

Scrape it into the three cake pans somewhat evenly (I didn't spread the batter out, and so got uneven sides) and bake 10-15 minutes, or until the edges begin to look just a bit dry, and the center is no longer wet.  Cool in the pans on cooling racks.

Now make the icing!

[Caveat:  I kind of wing it on icing.  Sometimes - say, for instance, this time - I've forgotten to buy a new bag of confectioners' sugar, so I have to adjust the recipe a bit for the amount I have.  Or maybe I want the orange-flavored buttercream icing but I think cream cheese would taste good, too, so ... I tinker.  And then I don't always remember what all I added, or how much.  So the recipe I give you is an approximation, at best.]

Cream a couple of tablespoons of butter with a few ounces of cream cheese and a tablespoon of orange juice.  Add confectioners' sugar (say, 2-3 cups) until the consistency is right.  Then, freelance!  I added about 20 drops of sweet orange oil, and the chopped zest* of one orange.  We wanted an orange tint to the icing, too, so added a few drops of yellow food coloring and one drop of red.

Taste test, to see if you need to add more sweet orange oil (probably - can't get enough of that), or orange juice, or zest, or who knows - maybe vanilla?

Now, take your cooled brownie layers.  Spread marmalade on the biggest one for your bottom layer. Actually, learn from my mistake, and spread the marmalade on all three layers.  Next spread a layer of icing over the marmalade - yes, it will be messy, and no, it won't necessarily look pretty.  Doesn't matter.  You and your lucky guests will be so enraptured by the flavor that no one will notice messy icing incidents.  Ice all three layers before stacking.  That's what I didn't do, and ended up with a slightly leaning tower of brownie, as a result.  If you marmalade and ice them all on solid ground, you can stack them up the way you want, and (I'm guessing) they are more likely to stay in place!

And voila!  You have created your Orange Marmalade Triple Brownie Torte!  Slice thinly (although the zest and the chocolate chips can make that tricky), because not everyone can finish a standard-size slice.

Brownie Layers
4 large eggs
3/4 cup butter
3/4 cup cocoa
2 cups raw sugar
1 tsp. real vanilla
1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup chocolate chips

Marmalade

Icing
butter
cream cheese
orange juice
confectioners' sugar
sweet orange oil
orange zest
food coloring

* I don't own a zester.  Well, actually, I might have one somewhere in that drawer, but I don't use it.  I guess I'm not fancy enough to figure out how it works, or maybe I just bought a lemon.  ;)  I use my vegetable peeler, instead, and then chop it.  So, no cute spirals of zest for me, boo-hoo.  If you know how to do that, I think they'd look nice on top, maybe with some chocolate chips sprinkled artfully about.

** Those are not peas on Sugar's cake.  They look just like peas, but they're actually fondant balls.  She thought it would look festive to make little green balls and put them around the edge, and I blush to confess that it did not occur to her mother, either, that they would look just like peas.  It wasn't until they were on, and presented for admiration to Spice and Nice, that these helpful sisters pointed out how just like peas small green balls can look.  Some tears were shed, but all three girls really like fondant (notice that I am not included in that list), so the "peas" stayed.

closing up camp

I'm inside now listening to the rain.  For the first time in our Family Week history, it held off till the end.  We got our fill, almost, of campfires and s'mores, tenting and outdoor living.

This afternoon Sugar, Spice, and Nice had their last Quiet Time in the tent, kitties curled up beside them in their sleeping bags (except for the ones who couldn't resist the smell of the sausages I was cooking over the fire for tonight's soup).  Then, in the wind from the approaching storm, they helped my Farmer pack up the tent.  I put away camp chairs.  Stacked the few remaining sticks of firewood against a tree.

The fire still burned - low -, a lone potato and a handful of chestnuts left on the grate.  We kept the fire going all week.  This morning's breakfast fire was the first time we needed matches since we started it last Saturday.  Even then, the ash was warm.

Every meal for a week, we ate around the fire.  Most days we cooked once or twice using the campfire:  hot dogs (of course), toast, chicken satay, grilled tomato & cheese sandwiches, hobo packets of potato and sausage, scrambled eggs, potatoes in foil, apples, onions, sausages, and more and more s'mores.  Meals took forever, somehow.  No one seemed to mind.

We didn't do anything flashy this week.  No grand experiments.  No pricey field trips.  Not even many photos.  We just lived.  Outside.

Nice found her own "poking stick" for the fire (I'm a little possessive when I've got a good one).  Spice made "pencils" to write on an old pallet, by holding sticks in the fire till their ends were blackened.  Sugar hauled firewood and cut brush for resurrecting a fire from the previous coals.

They played with corncob dolls with braided "hair".  Baked "bread" wrapped up in grape leaves in the fire, to feed the cats.  Went fishing.  Walked back in the woods to wade in a very small spring-fed "swimming hole".  We went to the tractor pull at a local fair, ate funnel cake and elephant ear.  One day we took bikes to a nearby park to ride the trails and spent the morning riding, walking, even running in the sunshine, and ended up getting pizza to eat in the pavilion.  For a very cold ten minutes on the warmest day, the children and my Farmer had the last swim of the season in our pool.

Last night after dark, we walked over the rise to catch the moon as it came up full over the cornfield.

And now the week is over.

Tonight Lil' Snip will get a much-needed bath.  We'll tuck them all into their inside beds, their pillows still smelling faintly of campfire smoke.  We'll leave the windows open a crack for the music of rain and cricketsong.

And then in the morning we'll eat breakfast sitting at the table, dressed in churchy clothes like civilized folks, and go sit in circulated air for two hours, listening to people sing and talk into microphones and surreptitiously thumb their smartphones ...

... and our week outside will fade into vapor like a dream ...

spicy chicken dip, "slow food" style

A while back, my sister-in-law made some ridiculously delicious buffalo chicken dip, and when I asked her for the recipe, she was happy to share it.  However, she cooks like I do - a little of this and a little of that, to taste.  Still, I had her basic ingredients.  It involved bottles, however, and while I have absolutely no qualms about consuming food made from a bottle of this and a package of that, the DIY disease I have unfortunately prevents me from actually making anything like that once I've been given the recipe.

The World Wide Web came to my rescue and offered up various 5-star-reviewed ways to substitute for a bottle of this and a bottle of that.  Here are the results, approved by my family (actually, the children would prefer it a little less spicy, but this way there's more for my Farmer and me):


Spicy Chicken Dip
1 1/2 pint cooked chicken (about a pound; I used breast meat)
2 8-oz. packages of neufchatel (low-fat cream cheese)
1 1/2 cup shredded cheddar
1/2 cup yogurt
1/4 cup milk
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp. each dried parsley and dill
1/4 cup minced onion
2 T Tabasco chipotle hot sauce (or to taste)
6 shakes of powdered cayenne (1/4 tsp?)

Mix it all up gently, heat in a saucepan or in the oven till bubbly, say, 30 minutes on medium-low, or 300F.  Traditionally served with celery, but also delicious with crackers or by the spoonful.  [note:  once it was heated, I sprinkled more shredded cheddar on top for looks]

(and a photo, for Little Sister, who pinned it)

a little more palatable

After baring my soul about the groundhog, I hasten to serve up something a little tastier for you.

Last month, my Farmer's precious aunt, having overheard my weariness, offered to watch the children for a few hours while I ran errands.  She showed up with a meal for us, and included in it were these delicious, nutritious, energy-packed snacks.  She called them "energy balls", and credited our pastor's wife with the recipe, which she shared with me, and I'll share with you.  They are a bit of a bear to mix up, requiring, perhaps, the consumption of a ball from the previous batch to energize your arm.

My mother, ever a great economizer, added to this excellent recipe the idea of simply pressing the mixture into a pan to cut into bars.  Less elegant, perhaps, but so much easier that the elegance is barely missed, especially in light of the fact that while my children love to eat them, they do not so much love to shape them into balls.

Without further ado, I give you:

Energy Bars (or Balls)
1 cup regular oats
1 cup unsweetened coconut
1/3 cup mini chocolate chips
1/2 cup flaxmeal
1 T chia seeds (sesame seeds are also good)
1/2 cup nut butter (I've been using 3/4 cup natural peanut butter)
1/3 to 1/2 cup honey (maple syrup would also be good)
1 tsp. vanilla
pinch of salt

Mix all ingredients together using either (or alternating) a smashing or cutting motion.  Chill 45 minutes and shape into balls, or skip the chilling and press mixture into an 8x8" pan.  Store in the refrigerator and save the last one to eat before mixing up the next batch!  Delicious!

groundhog, with green beans

Here it is, the recipe you've all been waiting for:  how to serve groundhog.  And now that I'm an expert (this is my second time and all), I am armed with just the information you'll need.

But let's back up a little.

It has been my Farmer's dream, ever since our pre-marriage days, to roast a groundhog.  He and a friend cherished hopes of doing one on a spit to celebrate the last day of bachelorhood before his wedding.  So it's not as if I'd never heard him talk about eating groundhog.

I just never imagined that he was serious.

But then he started farming - garden vegetables, a groundhog's favorite buffet - and Mr. Groundhog became Public Enemy No. 1 (just behind Bambi, if you must know).  Wherever there are organic vegetables, there are appreciative consumers, and the four-legged ones are at least as eager to sample the wares as the two-legged ones.  In the absence of impediments, they usually overindulge:  having neither conscience nor sense of moderation, they'll happily nibble down an entire young planting of strawberries or broccoli or unripe melons.

Enter the Hav-A-Heart trap.  Groundhogs, despite having elevated tastes in vegetables, are none too gifted in strategy, and the sight of a lone tomato in an empty wire cage arouses no suspicions.  (For that matter, an empty cage alone is sometimes lure enough.)  The problem is that, having trapped them with such a big heart, are you then going to release them for someone else to deal with?

It didn't take my Farmer long to put two and two together.  Dream of roast groundhog + groundhog nuisance to livelihood = fulfilment of the ultimate in masculine accomplishments.

And so, one day last summer, he brought me home a groundhog.*

I was not as charmed as perhaps he had hoped.  I absented myself from the butchering.  Likewise from the slow roasting and the removal of the meat from the bones.  But, when my gallant Farmer, bringer-home-of-the-bacon and provider-of-the-meat, asked me to please make supper with it .....

.... I gulped and said yes.

I don't remember which of us came up with the idea of BBQ.  I tried to pretend it was beef, and when it was all arranged on buns, cheese melting prettily on top, it really looked the part.  Except that I knew.

The children loved it!  (they had begged for bits to taste during the "removal of meat from the bones" stage)  My Farmer was pleased.  I silently awarded myself "Wife of the Year", ate my sandwich somehow, and survived.

And now I have just done it all over again, tonight.  The scary thing is .... this time I almost enjoyed it.  Shhh, don't tell anyone.  I don't think I want to be known for eating groundhog.

Then again, I might not have a choice.  As we polished off our "garden beef" BBQ tonight, my Farmer told me, with a twinkle in his eye, that he'd checked the trap again today, but it was empty.

There can only be so many groundhogs out there, right???

So, on the off chance that you are ever presented with groundhog meat, here is what I recommend you do with it, after stiffening your spine and bracing yourself to jump the necessary mental hurdles:

Sauce for Groundhog  (one hog yields about 3 cups meat)
1 cup tomato sauce
1/4 cup apricot jam
2 cloves garlic, minced
dash of cayenne
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1/2 tsp. salt
1 T Worchestershire
3/4 tsp. dry mustard
1 T brown sugar (I may omit this next time; the sauce was sweeter than I like)
1 T vinegar

Combine all ingredients in a bowl, mixing well.  Chop groundhog meat finely, and stir into the sauce.  Simmer a half hour or longer, covered or uncovered, depending on how much liquid you want in your sandwich.  Toast the insides of the buns, spoon the meat onto the bottom halves, top with muenster cheese and broil.  Add the bun tops and serve hot, with green beans on the side.

* (For non-locals, the correct grammatical construction here is:  "he brought home a groundhog for me."  Consider this your unsolicited introduction to Pennsylvania Dutch-influenced grammar.)



linking up with Ann Kroeker at:


also sharing the story on Tell Me A True Story

Peanut Butter Cheerio Squares

You know why I like these bars?  Because to me, they taste like all the goodness of childhood (that's the Cheerios, peanut butter & honey) sweetened by nostalgia (that's the chocolate topping, an adult addition).  I don't know why you'll like them, but I'm pretty sure you will, judging from the reaction they got this week at our moms' group.  Think of them as a rice krispie bar with a makeover .....

Peanut Butter Cheerio Squares


Bring to a boil and then remove from heat:
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup dark table syrup

Meanwhile, measure into a large bowl:
1 cup peanuts
6 cups Cheerios

After the honey mixture has boiled, add, stirring well:
1 1/2 cup peanut butter

Pour over the cereal and nuts, stirring until evenly moistened.  Press mixture into 9x13" pan.


Melt over low heat and spread over squares:
2 cups chocolate chips
1 cup peanut butter chips

When the chocolate has solidified, cut into squares.  This, I have found, takes a lot of hand/finger strength.  Be patient, and sample as necessary.  Don't worry if your lines aren't straight - the bars will still taste good, and your friends will appreciate the proof that you are human.  Store at room temperature.

winter wonder

The fire has gone out.  My fingers are cold.

But you know what?  I am a grateful woman.

There are bags of pellets for the pellet stove out in the garage.  The sun is streaming through my (supposedly) energy-efficient window in my (relatively) warm house.  My pantry is stocked with nutritious food, and if it weren't, it would be a matter of minutes for me to go buy what I need at my choice of nearby variety-laden supermarkets - and with cash, I might add, that my able-bodied husband earns honestly at his fairly-compensated and steady long-term job.

My children are warmly clothed.

My to-do list centers on maintenance rather than on survival.

I'm more likely to need to vacuum my carpets than patch a leaky roof.


We ration Christmas cookies to curtail greed ....
  .... some are rationing the last of the rice, to keep starvation at bay.


A World Vision Catalog came to our door a week ago, and as we pored over the photos of foreign children holding ducks and goats, suddenly the wish lists we'd laboriously thought up for the children in our lives seemed awfully petty.

                             When we could give food....





What are you grateful for today?

                            How could you show it?

Feta Avocado Salsa

Served this tonight with our usual black beans and rice (which, remind me sometime, I want to include in the recipe box eventually since for some reason my family swoons over black beans and rice - the girls have been known to request it for their birthday dinners).  This salsa ... words fail me.  May I just say, we don't bother with chips.  Even Lil' Snip, all of 18 months old currently, gets demanding after the first taste.  And that's with raw onions in it, folks.

[Actually, to be perfectly honest, my daughters are not the ones scarfing this up.  The Farmer, Lil' Snip, and I take sole responsibility for the salsa consumption.  But - where I've served it to other adults, the accompanying chips appear to be of secondary, or possibly tertiary, interest.]

This is one recipe I have not tinkered with.  I originally got it from my sister and consider it just one more proof of the good taste I've always known her to have.

Feta Avocado Salsa


1 cup chopped tomatoes
1-2 ripe avocado(s) chopped
1/4 cup finely diced red onion (Vidalia types work well, too)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 T chopped cilantro
1 T olive oil
1 T red wine vinegar
1 T lime juice
4 oz. crumbled feta cheese

Chop what needs to be chopped, then mix it up with the liquids - use an easy hand and kind of fold it together, though, so it doesn't turn into mush (although I can vouch for it's being tasty that way, as well).  Last of all turn the crumbled feta into the salsa, and chill that puppy as long as you can resist its siren song (but not longer than, say, overnight).  [We have noticed no ill effects resulting from immediate consumption.]

crab soup, Maryland-style

I first had this soup for lunch with a friend in a very busy and crowded restaurant (which I think is the best endorsement you can give an eatery) in Northeast, MD, en route to Chincoteague, VA for a camping weekend, if I remember correctly (good grief, that was nearly 20 years ago!!).  Our tent (and, more importantly, our sleeping bags) got soaked in a deluge and I got pulled over on suspicion of driving under the influence (at 10 in the morning and 18 years old, needless to say, the only influence I was under was excitement ... although I admit that driving with my left foot out the window may not have been the savviest move).

But that's a story for another time.  Back to the crab soup, which was so good that as soon as I got my hands on some crabmeat, I tried to recreate the experience.  Unfortunately, that wasn't until five years later, in small-town coastal Japan, but my tastebuds have a better memory than the rest of my senses, and I think I came pretty close.  Here's the recipe I'm serving tonight, with cheddar-garlic biscuits adapted from Betty Crocker's cookbook:


Maryland-style Crab Soup

1/2 lb shrimp - steam and shell, set aside
1/2 lb crabmeat (I use the real deal, in a one pound refrigerated can - the other half pound goes for crab dip, another crowd-pleaser.  Maybe I'll post that recipe another day)

4 potatoes, cubed and cooked (I add the potato water to the soup, too)
corn / carrots / green beans (optional - about 1-2 cups total, depending on how thick you want the soup)

While the potatoes (and vegetables) are cooking, use butter to saute:
onion
garlic
red bell pepper
celery (in a pinch, celery seed will do)

To the potatoes and sauteed vegetables add:
28 oz. can of diced tomatoes
2 cups each chicken broth and shrimp broth (I use the water I cooked/steamed the shrimp in, or just more chicken broth - and see here for how to make the best chicken broth you've ever eaten)
1 bay leaf
splash of Worchestershire
pinch each of clove and cayenne (more than a pinch of the hot stuff if you like it spicy)
a few grinds of black pepper

When all vegetables are tender, add the shrimp and crab.  You're just heating them through.  Don't boil them or they'll get tough (although I've done that by accident and the flavor is still fabulous).  In fact this soup is great made the day before and just heated up at mealtime to serve.  Garnish with cilantro, and prepare yourself to hear raves from your family or guests......

my very own brownies

These are indeed my very own brownies, but I do want to give credit where credit's due:  I started out using Irma Rombauer's "Brownies Cockaigne" recipe in The Joy of Cooking.

But you know me, I had to substitute cocoa and butter for the baking chocolate, because that's what I usually have on hand, and then I had to mess around with the flour a little to get a consistency I liked, and then I experimented with different brands of cocoa and started using whole wheat flour instead of all-purpose because why not make it "healthy" since you can't even taste the whole wheat under all that chocolate!  Oh yeah, and the peanut butter chips and optional Wilbur buds are the finishing touch.

So here they are, made so often I don't even have to look it up (yay, me):


My Very Own Brownies

Grease (I use butter wrappers saved for this express purpose) a 9x13" pan.  I use glass but I assume that is not a crucial point.  You can also set your oven for 350 degrees if you like to preheat.

3/4 cup butter (need I say, not margarine?)
3/4 cup Wilbur brand cocoa (it really does make a difference, trust me)

Melt the butter and stir in the cocoa.  Set aside, off the heat.

4 eggs, room temp
1/4 tsp. salt

Beat the eggs & salt until "lemon-colored and frothy" (courtesy of Irma)

2 cups raw sugar (a.k.a. demerara sugar)
1 tsp vanilla

Keep beating, and slowing add the sugar and vanilla till so that it gets smooth.  (I hope you're using an electric mixer for this.  I do.)


Now, abandon the electric mixer and fold in the cocoa/butter mixture, which has partially cooled by now.  Then, before that's entirely incorporated, also fold in:

1 cup whole wheat flour (King Arthur's is what I tend to have around for bread-making)
1 cup Reese's brand peanut butter chips (no imitation comes close)
[optional:  a handful of Wilbur buds / Hershey kisses stuck in upside-down, pre-baking, one per brownie]

Once all the goodies are folded in, coax it out of the bowl into your prepared pan and slip it into the oven to fill your home with intoxicating aroma.  Check it around 25 minutes but it may take as long as 30 - it's done when it's dry to the touch in the middle and has begun to pull away a bit at the edges - but before the edges shrivel and turn hard.


Take it out and let the pan cool on a rack.  (The stovetop always worked well for me until the day I turned the wrong burner on.  Let's just say we did not have to use the fire extinguisher, but there are scorch marks on my vinyl flooring and I am now short a glass cake pan.)


Now, from personal experience, I happen to know that you can actually eat these right out of the pan, but it's a lot less messy after they've cooled.


Enjoy!!

the secret to amazing soup

The secret to amazing soup is amazing broth.  And the secret to amazing broth is to make your own.

This is on my mind right now because I have a beautiful pot of amazing soup on the stove as I type.  It is so tastebud-defyingly delicious that I would feel guilty not telling you how to do it yourself.  Tonight's particular soup is potato soup, but this will be true of any soup you make using your amazing broth.  It's so simple you will kick yourself for not having known it before - but don't!  Save that energy and make some soup!!  Okay, here goes (and don't be deceived by the length of this post - it really is simple; I just get wordy when I'm excited!):

Buy a roasting chicken.  The brand does not matter, although of course if we are being all idealistic, it will be one that was raised in the sunshine under fruit trees, eating its pick of weeds, seeds, bugs and select kitchen garbage, happily husbanded by a fine rooster, the way ours are here.  But let's be real:  there aren't enough of those, and it's not much fun to butcher anyway.  So go ahead and get the Shurfine chicken at your favorite grocery store (I can actually vouch for that brand being a good one!).

Roast it.  Just follow the directions on the back of the bag.  (Only, if you want really succulent white meat, turn that chicken breast-side-down.  I know it says breast-side-up.  They're wrong.)  Or, if you actually got a pastured chicken somewhere, set your oven for 350 degrees and pop that hen right in - two and a half hours for a 6-8lb bird.  Use a meat thermometer if you like precision in the kitchen; otherwise just wait till the meat starts to sag off the bones in submission.  Baste (that is, as juices cook out of the bird, pour them right back over it to keep it moist) frequently after the first hour.

(By the way, I like roast chicken so much that I never do anything to it seasoning-wise.  It just gets in the way - kind of like almonds in chocolate.)

Eat the chicken, picking all the meat off of the bones.  Save the skin if you can resist eating it - this is where all the flavor is (as is usually true of fats!) and will take your broth to untold heights.

Now.  Here is where the good part comes in.  Instead of throwing all those bones (& skin, remember?) into the trashcan .....

..... dump it all in your crockpot, cover with water, set on low, and forget about it for a day or so.  If you want to get fancy, plop an onion in, too.  But trust me, if your chicken was at all tasty (and especially if threw the skin in like I told you to), that broth is going to have you calling your friends and spreading the news.

At your leisure, when the liquid in your crockpot is nice and dark, turn it off and let it cool a smidge.  Get your largest bowl (mine holds four quarts), line it with fine cheesecloth or clean woven cotton, and ladle all that rich yumminess into the bowl.

Bring the four corners of the cloth together (gingerly, if it's still steaming), and then throw all that away (or if you have carnivorous pets, give it to them for a treat).  Look at your bowl.  Lean in close and take a whiff.  Good, huh?  Box that up in plastic boxes in your freezer and you've got liquid gold on hand for your next soup.  Or if you can't wait that long, go ahead - make some right away!!

grass magic

Did you ever think about the divine alchemy involved in the transformation of grass (natural diet of goats and cows) into milk?  Last week during our "play-cation" we took it a step further and made cheese.

[Since my Farmer was in charge of this operation, I offer not a recipe for cheese-making, but mere observation of the process.]

First was the heating of the milk, the addition of rennet, and the waiting for the curd to set.  We used goat milk, since that's what we had on hand from a family nearby.  There is thought that the process works a bit differently with goat milk.  At any rate, it did eventually set, with the help of a bit of calcium chloride.  The curds were most tenderly cut, and then reheated and ever-so-gently stirred by Spice, who loves any work connected to cooking.

When the milk reached the proper temperature, Sugar and Nice joined the effort to squeeze out the whey...

... and shape little mozzarella balls.

The texture was not quite what we'd expected, so they were dipped into the reheated whey, and turned out something like melted cheese.  They were enthusiastically devoured by all participants.

The chief cheese-maker (a.k.a. my Farmer) noticed a good deal of milk solids left in the whey.  Never one to pass up an opportunity to try something not in the directions, he scooped them out, wrapped them in cheesecloth, and pressed them in a cheese mold we had received as a Christmas gift years ago.  After a day of pressing (and tasting), he let it dry out for another day or so.  Not bad-looking, we all agreed.  Surprisingly, all three girls liked the pungent flavor as well.

Next up was waxing the cheese.  Lacking cheesewax, but not an adventurous spirit, my Farmer used paraffin, creating a double-boiler from his wife's cupboards ....

... and spooned it over the cheese.

We've been turning the finished product daily, inspecting it for aroma and leakage.  It's supposed to be ready in December but no bets are being placed on it lasting that long.

[sharing this page with Ann Kroeker for Food on Fridays....]

pretty good millet

Let's get this straight from the start:  despite what more enterprising countries (like Africa) may do with millet, in this country, it is largely purchased as birdseed.  There's a reason for that, and yes, it has to do with flavor.  Our North American palates are accustomed to SWEET and SALTY and unless you add a lot of sugar or MSG to millet, you are going to be mostly impressed with its blandness.  [Thus, the unambitious recipe name.]

That said, and keeping in mind its high nutritive value (comments about birdbrains aside), I think I have found a way to prepare millet that at least gets me some "Mmmm!"s from my family.  Anticipating a large demand for that sort of recipe (ha), I share it with you here.  Serve in place of rice.

Pretty Good Millet
3-4 cups chicken broth (you can always add more towards the end if it looks too dry)
2 T soy sauce
Heat these in a medium saucepan while you toast the millet.

1 cup millet
Toast it in a dry skillet, constantly stirring, until it starts popping and giving off a fragrance.  Pour into the heated broth.

1 onion (large if you're an onion-lover; otherwise you decide!)
some oil
Dice onion & saute in oil.  Add to the millet and broth.  Bring to a boil; simmer covered 20 minutes or till the millet has absorbed the broth and is soft.  If you don't stir it at all, and are using a heavy pan, you might get lucky and have some of it brown on the bottom.  Yum!

my very own chocolate chip cookie recipe

These are so good that it's just kindness to share the recipe.  I experimented a loooong time to get these cookies to turn out just the way I wanted them to.  [and continue to tinker with the recipe!  Just updated 10-4-2014]  I hope you like them as much as we do.

I am listing the brands that I use because it's so disappointing when I try someone else's recipe and it turns out all different.  I can only assume that if I followed the directions they gave me, then it must be a difference in ingredient brands, and I want to save you that frustration.  So - if you follow the recipe exactly and don't love the cookies, at least you won't have to wonder what you did wrong - you'll just know that you and I have a different taste in chocolate chip cookies.  Alright.  Here goes:

My Very Own Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe

1 cup natural peanut butter

1/2 cup salted butter, softened

1/2 cup peanut oil (or coconut, if it's liquid)

1 1/2 cup raw (demerara) sugar

1/2 cup raw honey

3 small eggs (or two large ones)

2 tsp. real vanilla

Mix all the above well with an electric mixer.  If you didn't let the butter soften enough (as happens sometimes in households where the cook is both spontaneous and impatient), try to smash the resulting lumps with a spoon to somewhat integrate them.  Now, stir in:

2 cups King Arthur's ("white") whole wheat flour

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

1 tsp. Arm & Hammer baking soda

1 tsp. salt (I use the pink Himalayan now, but I'm not sure it makes any difference)

12 oz. bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips (Shurfine works, but Hershey's Special Dark is better, and Ghiradelli is best)

I usually chill the dough till I'm ready to dive in to the business of cookie-baking, but that's only because I tend to do jobs in small increments.  You can bake these right away.

Whenever you're ready, turn the oven on to 350 F.  I use AirBake pans (because that's what I was given waaaaay back at my bridal shower) and the cookies take 12-15 minutes to cook, switching pans halfway through, so if you use thin aluminum you may need to watch them for burning bottoms.  Also, if you put fewer cookies on the tray, they'll bake faster.

For the peanutiest flavor, let them cool to room temp.

Enjoy!

fresh perspective

It doesn't take much to get my eyes off the ground.

a night out at the pottery studio
pizza made by friends' hands & baked outdoors in a clay oven
a suncatcher for me to paint, gift from my daughter
husband's hand on mine
children dropped off happy at Grandma & Grandpa's
us, let loose from schedules, lunching with newspapers spread
cheese from the Savory Gourmet
a drive through the park, looking for (and finding!) mushrooms
the "ahhhhh" of a quiet house
a great illustrated book on pottery techniques
nap on the livingroom floor
chocolate for tea, and mushroom leek cheese
the possibilities of two unplanned days


All these, consecutively, work wonders.  I pray God the days' refreshment will translate into something more lasting - patience, maybe? for the multitudes of wrinkle-makers sent for my refinement.

In the meantime, gratitude, deep and sweet.

Thank you, God above.  Thank you, potter friends.  Thank you, daughter of mine.  Thank you, "Ba."  Thank you, my Farmer, my hero, my friend.

Thank you, God above.