Avocado Desperado

This was no high-noon battle. We'd been pursuing the varmint, tracking him for weeks, circling in like buzzards. But not just buzzards: somebody would have to close in to make the kill. We are the gang of three: Rachel, straight shooter, fastest pastry-slinger west of the Atlantic; Tracy, fiery-deadly with a whip; and yours truly, the unhinged experimenter, defying a slow or easy death to any victim.

Get along little cookies, we got a dessert to wrangle.

We stared down at the fresh tube of sugar cookie dough, like the smooth barrel of a shotgun. Carefully, as it was fully loaded, we handled the s.o.b. Rachel got her hands dirty, adding plenty of ginger, then more just for the hell of it. She coldly, mechanically formed a couple dozen identical balls. I took them "down stairs" for a little heat treatment, to show those bast*rds we weren't kidding around, that they had better shape up.

When I came back, Tracy, Rachel, and deputy Shengning had stripped, pitted, and mashed the avocado with some sugar. Funny, it was pretty darn wet. You wouldn't think something so small had that much to it. When some cookies had cooled their heels long enough, we slathered the green good on 'em. They were a sight too glisten-y for our liking.

Tracy flashed her whip, thickening things up with some flour and corn starch. I made a twisted sort of grin, improvised a double-boiler, and heated a beaten egg with sugar, then scrambled the avocado mixture with it. That's more like it. But a taste of power made me crazy for more, and I cackled as half a packet of gelatin dissolved into boiling water, and added to the mess. No more heat for this hombre; into the freezer.

Our posse took down that dessert. It may not have been pretty, and it may have been overly gelatinous and strangely savory, but we got the job done. Yep. Time for us amigos to skedaddle, hit the trail for another try.

lazy sunday

well gang, we've been pretty lazy (or busy) these past sundays, and every other days. we haven't been making much in the way of the pillsbury bake off, but that doesn't mean it hasn't been on our minds. and in general, we've still been cooking.

why just this past sunday, we recreated a dish i had once in florence: blueberry steak. quick sear on a couple steaks, and they headed into a reduction of blueberries, blueberry jam, red wine, cinnamon and rosemary. i'm not generally a fan of fruit and meat, but this was delicious. it sauce didn't have quite the thickness or richness of the version served at acqua al'due, but it was still darn tasty.

before sunday, i mixed up a big batch of new mexican meatball soup. whoo doggies. spicy and amazing. i just finished up the last of it, and in these final dog days of summer, with the chipotle-serrano-poblano-jalapeno based soup and the steamy temperatures, i was sweating like nixon.

this is all just to say, rest assured, dear fan(s). we'll soon be experimenting, photographing, and posting again. when the leaves start to turn, that's when the baking is at its best.

Peachy Spleen

Well, it was actually quite tasty, but the recipe for peach cobbler with Bisquick was nevertheless a bit lacking. Short on vim, vivacity, the dreamy airiness and light that one expects to accompany a golden southern belle, a sweet, blushing Georgia (shhh, she doesn't know she's from New Jersey) fruit. I blame its failure on overindulgence, a reliance on too much milk that couldn't possibly rise up as intended through that orangey goo emanating from the sliced flesh. Like Scarlet's abundant petticoated dress impeding her determined mobility, it was all just too much.

But the cinnamon and vanilla were right on. And warm-sweet nubs of fruit, even with mushy cobbler cursed by one dairy form, blended ever so perfectly with slowly melting ice cream. It might be too hot for baking these past few days, but not too far back there was a time when the golden heat of the oven matched the tones of the inexplicably available fruit, and they were beautiful and ravishing even if it could never last.

Making the batter from scratch, one can control the baking-powder/flour/sugar/milk ratio, and perhaps even add an egg for depth of flavor and a more cake-like consistency (still with plenty of biscuit flavor). Dotting with butter might add crispness and richness to the top as well. I remain a cobbler ingenue, but of course, fiery debutantes must fight their way.

I pity the blackcurrant fool!

this blog post, too, like the one below it is an update on some of our summer weekend adventures. picture, if you will, a bucolic hike through the mountains of (slightly) upstate new york. here -- this picture should help you picture it.

this is claire and me hiking around storm king. we'd just finished a couple round-offs and back-hand springs. it was an amazing day and there were literally dozens of wild blueberries along the path for us to gobble up. after the hike, we made our way to fish kill orchard which has a number of delicious fruits for the picking. matt had called ahead to ensure blueberries were ready, but upon arriving we were told that "they're not ripe yet." being the renegades that they are, the veligdans said "balls to that!" and picked them anyway. me, being a helmick, dutifully obeyed the fish kill staff and stuck to the fully-ripened blackcurrants.

i'm glad i did, because blackcurrants are a curious fruit. this was a magical new adventure for my taste buds. these little dark blue bulbs are tart, sweet and meaty all at the same time. they start out with a flavor similar to...mushrooms? or perhaps a well cooked pork chop. then come in for a zing of tartness, followed by a mellow sweetness that is not overpowering the way some other berries can be.

i scoured the internet for recipes using fresh blackcurrants, and only came up with a couple. in the end, i went with a recipe for blackcurrant fool. "fool," i'm told by mr. webster is "a cold dessert of pureed fruit mixed with whipped cream or custard." it couldn't have been simpler.

1. boil the currants with a smidgen of water until they're juicy and broken down

2. puree them in the blender with some super fine sugar

3. let them cool, whilst you whip up some cream and a egg white

4. combine and refrigerate for a few hours

i took this blackcurrant fool over to our dear friend shengning's new apartment for a rooftop bbq. i had brought along the ingredients for s'mores, but the gang quickly discovered that the marshmallows (toasted or not) were delicious dipped in the blackcurrant fool.

everything was a smashing success. and while this isn't directly a recipe that could be used for the p-bury competition, i've started thinking up ways we could append it. wouldn't a layered blackcurrant fool and marshmallow pie be delicious? happy tiers of bright purple and pristine white would be inviting for any dessert lover.

Weekends' Updates

Points on Kitchen-Counter Counterpoint

Since she is unfortunately allergic to posting on this blog, I will attempt to describe Tracy's recent-hit cupcakes from last weekend's 5th Annual 3rd of July Party. The dainty darlings were fairy-charming, as if perfectly designed by that mythical figure to tempt you with perfected confections until your teeth fall out one by one, and she whisks them away to her lair, leaving you with sugary dreams and perhaps a half-dollar. The cupcakes were golden, a combination (if I remember correctly) of cake mix, corn muffin mix, and banana, which actually formed a democratic union of flavor. The beauties were pink strawberry frosting blushed across their tops, and a bulbous blueberry reigned in roly-poly kingship at the very center.

Mealy?!

Not at all, in fact. The stuffed peppers, that is. This dish has the potential to satisfy moms' desire for familial vegetable intake as well as kids' requirement of potato-based sustenance. Skip the chips, let fly the fries, toss the tots -- these taters are tasty and almost luminous with their own seemingly-industrial-but-really-beneficial veneer of neon yellow. But let's begin and the beginning. Core some bell peppers, or slice in half and remove stem, veins, and seeds. Dunk in boiling water for about 5 minutes, then drain. Boil potatoes until just tender. Saute onion, garlic, and many spices -- tumeric gives the yellow glow, we also use cumin, coriander, a decent amount of salt, a little cloves and cinnamon -- for about ten minutes. Then add the potatoes and some raisins. Stuff this mess into the peppers, and bake.

Is this too exotic for your average Pils home-baker? Aren't we all searching for more outlets for the mysterious spices that stock the racks and rotators and wedding-gift-packs that end up huddling forlorn, scootching their way ever backward in the cupboard? Throw them all in here. Fennel seed. Cardamom. Why not a bit of paprika? Will this humble vessel of pepper and potato serve as transport for new cuisine into standard kitchens, and across borders for those hands that add them to the pan?

It's my chocolate attack

I'll keep this brief, but I wanted to share a semi-recent discovery about those hot chocolate packets my office supplies in our kitchen.

Should you find yourself in desperate need of something chocolaty, and with only an empty pocketbook or vending machine, here is a simple solution:

1. Empty 1 packet of Nestle or Swiss Miss hot chocolate into a disposable cup.

2. Pour in approximately 1/4 cup milk.

3. Mix like hell. (It won't want to mix at first, but it will eventually acquiesce.)

4. Microwave for about 35-40 seconds.

The result is an extremely molten brownie milkshake thing. It is so good. And if I've done my math right, only about 110 calories. Mmmmmm.

Rhyming Cutlets

Sing a song of kitchens full of girls so spry,
Four and twenty flour sacks baked rising high.
When their goods were tasted the girls began to sing,
'Our sweet treats should win grand prize -- the Dough Boy crown us king!'
The girls picked through their cupboards, oils and sauce so runny,
The boys helped chop and drink and fart and tell jokes fairly funny,
They seared and boiled, grilled and broiled, but still they have not chose,
The recipe to rule them all, wow every eye and mouth and nose!

Spice President

So, it's been a while. You're probably thinking, "Man, I wish Rachel or Claire would write about something they've recently baked to make me oh-so-jealous of their wicked Pillsbury skillz." Well, my friend, your wait is over. Because this 4-day weekend wasn't just about hanging off the back of a Hobie Cat by a boogie board. No no, it also served as an opportunity for me to finally go ahead and try to rip-off Tom Colicchio's mind-blowing cookies from 'wich craft.

These cookies are seriously the best cookies in the whole world. 'Wich Craft has a variety of cookie sandwiches filled with delicious ganache. When these show up in my office, I have no qualms about taking 4 back to my desk. The one I'm absolutely gaga about has peanut butter in the middle, and some kind of ginger snap cookie on the outside. I love those spicy cookies, so I just couldn't resist trying them out myself.

Ingredients for cookies:

1 tube Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies doctored up with --

approx. 1 tbsp cinnamon, 1 tsp ground cloves, 1 tsp nutmeg, 1 tsp ground ginger, 1 tbsp cocoa powder 1tbsp powdered sugar

Ingredients for ganache:

some peanut butter, heavy cream, and powdered sugar. No measuring, just mixed until I had a happy consistency and the taste was creamy and sweet.

I baked up the cookies, making sure to keep them all fairly small and the same size. Once completely cooled, I spooned about a teaspoon of the ganache onto one cookie, and topped it with a match.

They were awesome!!! Jenny did suggest that the filling could be a pumpkin ganache. I thought this was an excellent idea, and would make for easy marketing. Who wouldn't want to whip up a batch of Pillsbury Harvest Cookie Sandwiches? Yum!!

Savory New World

This blog is a savior! Just this weekend, whilst eating some delicious Vietnamese sandwiches on the roof of the church, and discussing the P-Bury bake-off, I was presented with the question "so, do they tend to favor sweet or savory recipes?" Well, as you can probably imagine, I was able to speak quite knowledgeably on the subject given my last blog entry. Of course the conversation took a turn when another friend chimed in, "What does savory mean?"

Hanging up Christmas lights on the roof

The genesis of our topic was when I pulled out what I'm calling "cheesy spicy surprise biscuit bombs." I'd recently had what I can only assume is a normal desire to bread something in crushed-up Cheez-Its. The victim of this urge ended up being some p-bury biscuits. And to spice things up (literally and figuratively) I used the Cheez-Its with Tabasco, and tucked a wee bit of queso de papa in the middle of each one.

The result was a little odd. Ok, a lot odd. (Why is that a running theme in my experiments?) Frankly, I thought they tasted like...bleh. Some of the Cheez-Its burned, and when the biscuits returned to room temp, the queso inside re-hardened into an unsavory block.

However, it was decided that in the future, Cheez-Its would make a suitable substitute for cornflakes as a chicken breader.

Upside-Down Uprising

What a stellar statistical circumnavigation of bake-off winners past, Rachel! You have such a way with numerals.

We inhabitants at the red castle have been preoccupied with a new neighbor, who is still adjusting to his home and scratching post/box. St. George (the mouse-slayer) is not inspiring us in a culinary fashion, as his palate favors meaty-but-odd variations on brown, in "wet" and dry variety. Now that the mice have returned, we can assume, to hiding in the walls and feasting on the fall-out shelter crackers, we can again face our pantries courageously.

Last Sunday, I shared an old favorite and considered ways to fashion him for the modern age: pineapple upside-down cake. Not that I don't love him just the way he is, but he's just so retro. So McCarthy-era conscious of trying to please and fit in. Nothing untoward here, just us canned, culturally bland chunks. Dear Mr. Upside, let's get down. You are soaked with sweet. You are weighty in that ponderous Brezhnev/Yeltsin way.

While I like the density of the cake (it contains much less egg and much less flour than the standard ratio), it is one-dimensional. It could be enriched with extra yolks, or officially soaked with fruit juice (and rum?) after baking. The one standard that must be perfected is the crispy caramel topping that goes into the pan first. I let the brown sugar and butter commingle, slowly and luxuriantly bubbling, for a few minutes, but cut down the over-all baking time as the cake appeared to be brown about 15 minutes early. A fatal error, as far as the caramel was concerned. Everything tasted great, but was of mushier-than-desired consistency.

To make Mr. Upside into a Pils winner, we will have to revolutionize. I call for perestroika: abandon your out of date identity, sir! I'm imagining cardamom, cloves, a merangue topping -- or rather, bottoming, once flipped, and of course fresh pineapple, cut into practicable bite-size triangles -- a banishment of the alien-rounded donuts from the can. Are you with me, comrades?

Winner is served.

Well, my little Pillsbury groupies, in case you did not hear, the winner of the 2010 bake-off was announced. Big congrats to Sue Compton for her “Mini Ice Cream Cookie Cups.” They do look really yummy. However, this throws a bit of a wrench into our situation.

You see, our dear friend Jenny Tang had astutely observed that there had been a certain trend in P-bury winners. While history has favored sweet/dessert recipes, the last 14 years or so had suggested a new oscillating pattern.

UNTIL THIS YEAR! Now we’ve had 2 sweet winners in a row. Who knows what the committee will be looking for in 2012? I suppose we should factor in economic forces. It’s been a rough couple of years. The world is looking for a delicious, small way to treat themselves. Forget stay-cations, the real trend is baking up a batch of brownies with your kids. Pillsbury has always pulled at the heart-strings of America, knowing along with the likes of Hallmark and LoLcats, just what our sappy hearts yearn for. These are probably amazing days for Pillsbury. In fact, take a look at this analysis:

Ok, to be honest, I thought that the above chart would reveal something amazing. For the most part, it seems that when unemployment is on the decline sweet recipes tend to reign, which of course goes against my hypothesis above. Really there doesn't seem to be any tie to what kind of recipe wins and the state of our economic health. Now my faith is restored in the Pillsbury bake-off. Perhaps it really is about who has the best-tasting, best-looking food. Conspiracy theories be damned! Back to the kitchen!

Osh Kosh Ganache!

Alright, let’s leave the gimmicks at the door today. All you get in this entry is some good old fashioned bake-off straight-talk.

About a week ago, I was reading a recipe in Cook’s Illustrated for these insane chocolate cupcakes. Long story short, Claire and I baked these suckers up, complete with chocolate ganache filling. I started to wonder, what else could you fill with such a lovely concoction? How about Pillsbury Crescent Rolls?

I decided to make a peanut butter ganache, and add chocolate chips. So over a double-boiler I combined pb, heavy cream, powdered sugar and semi-sweet chocolate chips. I popped open the roll of crescents, and got to filling. The crescent rolls weren’t really shaped nicely for stuffing, so I tried a couple options – rectangular little spring rolls, and triangular purses (complete with a rose on top using the extra dough).

For a final touch I sprinkled a mixture of sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon on top, and sent them into the 375 oven.
Now let me discuss the results. My exact words upon taking a bite of one of the still warm spring rolls were “HOLY F*CK!” They were, and are delicious! Oh golly, I guess there’s not much to dislike. I’m quite pleased with the texture, too. Could this be a winning submission? I plan on taking some into the office tomorrow to get outside opinions, but hopes are high that others are just as pleased as I.

The Phyllo is Risen, Indeed

Has it really been so long? We've missed you, too! Let's travel back in time, all the way to Easter. All of a sudden, it was 80 degrees, the tree buds were fairly popping out, and Matt pulled out the yellow-striped linen shirt that is the true sign of the season (as well as a sign of lack of ironing skills/effort). I baked a plain old Pills cake, smoothing the batter onto a cookie sheet in anticipation of cutting it into fun-themed shapes and colorful frosting decoration. But ah -- foiled! -- the frosting was chocolate, and while much more delicious, did not abide by food coloring. In case you're in a bind for time though, here's a handy tip: the cake only took about 15 minutes to bake up nice and golden.

But that was just a preamble, testing the water with a toe, or, if you will, dipping a finger in the flour. (You know, instead of a "green thumb," I would suggest that Rachel, Tracey, and I have "buttered thumbs.") The real show would be with dinner, and it turned out to be just as much of a snap.

The picture on the box made it all look so simple, and happily, it was. Classy but unassuming, the general aura of the phyllo dough box seemed to say, "Oh, how about some napoleons? Or just a little baklava? That sounds nice." Sure, why not? Mr. Chef helped brush the butter onto the dough, Rachel pared away the edges and layered the sheets, and I cooked down some a big pack of Chinatown strawberries into jam. Things hummed along, and we learned that cookie cutters cannot compete with phyllo, but that's just fine. Triangles are great, thanks.

The warmth and butter and sugar created a sort of hazy hang-over halo of happy fatigue. Maybe that's why I thought it didn't matter much that the wand-mixer flung bits of chocolatey cream, spackling us with dessert. We laughed and rolled our eyes, and bundled it up to go to Melanie's place. She treated us to a perfect feast, and we found many ways to construct and consume our phyllo-strawberry-chocolate-cream towers, perhaps falling victim to their namesake's ambition, but only with happy, delicious ends.

Brownie Points

Another shout-out to Cook's Illustrated, the wonderful magazine the churns out perfect, easy-to-follow recipes. I'm so sorry to now cannibalize them, but this recipe needs to reach the world. Matt and I made these scrumptious brown sugar cookies the other night, without much exertion, just perhaps a few extra dirty bowls. That is no price at all to pay for these chewy caramel delights. I apologize for sounding like poorly written magazine copy. Here's the recipe (I made a half-batch to reduce the possibility of us eating 50 of them at once):
http://www.bigoven.com/162655-Brown-Sugar-Cookies---Cooks-Illustrated-recipe.html

Cuckoo Shock

Situation: Dinner at Tracy's. Rachel has been requested to bring "dessert?" She accepts the challenge. It is also fantasy baseball draft day, leaving Rachel with surprisingly little time to figure out what this dessert will be.

Approach: Cogs in Rachel's brain begin to turn (ever slowly). "What is fast?" she thinks. "Pudding pie," a little cog says. "Oh, what flavor!?" A trip to the jello-o website reveals a whole host of options. Chocolate! Vanilla! Banana Cream! and the pièce de résistance ...White Chocolate! Go little cogs, go. "What goes with white chocolate?" How about a strawberry...jam? Or pretzels would be nice. Something along the lines of chocolate covered pretzels in a white chocolate pudding.

Execution: A trip to the grocery store reveals what Rachel had long suspected. No white chocolate pudding!! But the others were there (and on sale 4 for $3). New plan, quickly devised. What would go with banana cream? Rachel has to think outside the box if she's going to ever win that Pillsbury bake-off, let alone please her friends at dinner. Then genius strikes...Cocoa Puffs! They're crunchy, chocolaty. They will be delicious in a creamy banana pudding.

And so it went. A quick and easy pudding pie, constructed and let to set for an hour or so.

Results: Shockingly weird. The cocoa puffs did not stand up to the pudding, and became chewy, half-soggy, cardboardy mystery nuggets in the middle of the pudding. New theories postulated - any mix-ins must be impermeable. Suggested solutions include the previously mentioned chocolate covered pretzels, whoppers, or Reeses balls.

Bonus: Pretty good fantasy baseball team.

Like the Desserts Miss the Rain, MacArthur Park

Rachel, kudos on the tutor cookies. You are such a good maiden aunt! And you even fed me in my own time of need, as you, Jenny, and Chins provided hardy beef stew and mint-chocolate cake that could vanquish any tree-ripping, sky-weeping storm. Here's a re-cap of the cake, that was simple and yet so very very good:

1 box Pills Devil's Food cake (plus what they indicate to make batter)
1 package mint-chocolate chips
1 (8 oz.) carton heavy cream (or whipping cream)
loads of mint extract
more chocolate

Ok, I have to admit, I was still basically asleep when the cake was made, but that will only make this remembrance more dream-like, and esoteric, right?

Make the cake like a normal cake and mix in the chips. Bake and cool. For the frosting, borrow your nice neighbor's totally sweet hand-mixer/wand that rotates 800-million times per second. Melt some semi-sweet chocolate (I really have no idea how much, maybe 3 ounces). Let it cool, but stay melted. Whip it in with the cream, add enough mint extract so that it hits you like a shot of whiskey, and don't stop till the peaks are stiff. Frost and enjoy the perfect combination of quilted-downhome chocolately-warm goodness and whippet-fresh bright-eyed wonder. We figure we can soup it up a little for the Pills submission, but this is a winner taste, ease, and appearance-wise. And we did not leave it outside in the tempest of rain...

Now, to bring you up to date, last night we

LOVED

Tracy's inspiration: apple dump cake. Which might need a slight name change. Suggestions? Votes? Here are some to riff on or start your own creative juices flowing:

- Apple Goop (*plays on association with everyone's most beloved actress, Gwyneth Paltow!)
- Prairie Pie (*unfortunately plays on association with people stewing prairie dogs)
- Autumn Cobbler (*positive and negative associations with aging Geppetto)
- Butta Flava (*could help develop inroads with various judge demographics)

I don't even want to give this recipe away, but will mention that some cranberries were key to balance and appearance. Maybe Tracy will craft an interpretive dance to fully convey the beauty, symmetry, and grace of this dish.

Tough Cookie

Well, I had wanted my newest blog entry to be about balance. I had this great entry all worked up in my head, but then I remembered that tomorrow is the birthday of one of my SAT students. So , I attempted to whip up a batch of sugar cookies for him. The result was so terrible that I knew I had to write about that instead.

The premise was pretty simple. I found a sugar cookie recipe in my recipe bible, aka The Better Homes and Gardens Cook Book. It even had a best loved heart next to it. Best Loved! I could already imagine how tomorrow would go at tutoring.

Dereck: Wow, miss. You made me cookies!? You’re the best tutor ever.
Rachel: Oh, that’s so sweet of you to say, Dereck. I do it because I care. Happy birthday.

And then I would tutor the hell out of those next two hours, while the students sat back with full bellies and smiles on their faces. Pythagorean theorems utilized, thesis statements written, vocabulary words successfully inserted into sentences. Yeah, the best tutor ever.

Sadly, I don’t foresee that happening. I think what will actually happen is closer to:

Frantic, running-late Rachel: Uh, hi. Hello, right here! Pay attention! Goddamn it, Dereck, I made you cookies!!
Dereck: What? These gross looking things? Uh, thanks I guess.
Rachel: Oh, give me a break. It’s the thought that counts. Get your book out.

I think the problem started when I decided to go with a half batch. Halving is hard. For instance, what is half of 3 egg whites? And what is half of 1 ¾ cup? My brain said a little less than 1 cup. But I think my hands went for way less than 1 cup. The dough was loose (and not the fun kind). And why does any recipe ever call for cream of tartar? I figured skipping that would be fine. I also spruced up the recipe a bit with some lemon and lime zest.

Oh, BHG I should never have deviated from your wisdom. The result was completely flat, rock-hard little discs of evilness. What I was able to scrape off the cookie sheet actually didn’t taste that bad, but it was repulsive to look at. Like that chihuahua that won the ugliest dog contest, with the bad teeth and random tufts of hair. But you just can’t look away. Crestfallen, I added some flour to the remaining dough and hoped for the best. I got 9 decent looking, but still, totally flat cookies. Maybe I should stick to the tutoring. Although even that isn't guaranteed to go smoothly.

Pizza rut?

Full disclosure (part deux). Today my friend had an IM status about trying a “pizzacone.” A quick trip to Google, and the recipe plagiarism cogs were a-turning. The pizza cone is just what it sounds like – cone of crust filled with all the pizza goodies you’ve come to know and love. You can read about it here or here or here.

So, in the time-honored tradition of attempting to re-create restaurant foods at home (see Red Lobster ® cheddar bay biscuits or Cinnabons ™), I thought, “Heck, I can do this.”

Enter 1 tube of wheat grands biscuits, 3 sausage links, a huge pile of spinach, 1 small can of tomato sauce, and some mozzarella. I first split the biscuits in half, squished them into a muffin tin, poked them all over with a fork, and sent them into a 375 oven. The fork poking, of course, did nothing. After about 10 minutes in the oven, I had 12 muffin shaped biscuits (not dainty conical shells). The fork came back into play and made quick work of the crust innards. The guts came out really easily, actually. Meanwhile, I browned up the sausage (I like my sausages like I like my plates and tubs – hot), added the spinach to sauté and finally topped it off with the can of tomato sauce. A few herbs and garlic powder finished it off. I spooned this sausage mixture into the hollowed out biscuit-muffins, and sprinkled a little mozzarella on top.

Back into the oven, at a lower temp so nothing would burn, went the little muffins of pizza joy. About 5 minutes later the cheese had melted, and the faux-pizzacones were ready. They were pretty darn tasty and most came out of the tin easily. My only concern is that this idea isn’t the most original. But then again, maybe this is the kind of straight-forward simplicity the P-bury committee is looking for.

Common-Taters on the Lax*

In addition to several naps, (maxin' and reLAXin'), I did rustle up some imagination this weekend, in that I imagined a parmasean-flecked pie-crust atop my scalloped-potato-and-asparagus pie. I think it hit the nail on the head as far as seasonal appropriateness, as the satisfyingly warm, cheesy potatoes were complemented by sprightly rounds of spring-fresh green. It snowed last week, and then on Sunday got up to the high 50s -- it seems NYC is emerging from the cold gray, and we won't need to fight off the piles of snow with piles of potatoes much longer. Perhaps the dish lacked complexity, but as Rachel pointed out, we cleaned our plates entirely, including the baking pan.

Hopefully it won't jinx the warm weather to look forward to summer bonfires for inspiration for my next Pills baking experiment. Matt and I enjoyed an incredibly charming and simple dessert, a toasted marshmallow on a stick dipped in chocolate, as part of a very enjoyable night hearing some of his music played live at Lincoln Center (he is an orchestral rock star!). While this is probably not the most original of concepts, I'd like to try my hand at a peanut-butter-s'mores pie. Graham crust, a dense layer of peanut-butter cheese-cake, a thin layer of melted chocolate, topped with marshmallowy meringue...such stuff as dreams are made on.**

*I cannot claim creativity points for this title. Yes, it is yet another girly childhood literary allusion: Pa Ingalls presented the riddle of two potatoes on an axe to the townsfolk on the prairie: common taters on the axe, or rather, Commentators on the Acts.
**Um, I can't take credit for this line, either. Thanks again, Bill.

Slow Your (Casse)Role

Let me begin this entry with full disclosure. I stole this idea from Claire. Earlier this week, while killing time before our friend Melanie’s show, Claire whipped up a heck of a chicken casserole. Chicken + carrots + onion + cheese + big crispy bread crumbs. So with a fridge full of discounted biscuits, I tried to think of a way I could morph this recipe to fit the P-bury parameters.

What I came up with was some seared chicken (went with thighs for flavor), broccoli, green onion, and turnips. The turnips were honestly on a whim, and out of curiosity. I decided that this mixture needed to be combined with some sour cream and cheese and topped off with some biscuits. So the assembly began. I par-boiled the turnips to ensure they’d cook through, then mixed this with the chopped broc, onion and chicken that I had browned with a heavy dose of “old world seasoning.” This was put into a casserole dish, upon which I poured a spurious mixture of sour cream and milk. In my head this would become a beautiful thick and tangy white sauce. I finished it off by topping with cheese and some biscuit halves.

I set this to bake at 350, and pulled it out when the top was nice and browned. The result was…a little odd. The sauce didn’t exactly thicken. In fact, is it possible for sour cream to separate? All the individual elements were pretty tasty, but they didn’t gel as I had hoped. Perhaps a couple teaspoons of flour or corn starch in the sour cream mixture would be advantageous.

Going into this, saying I had no idea what I was doing, would have been an understatement. So, lessons learned. And turnips conquered!

No Spring Chicken

The quality of sunlight changed this morning, the snow is melting, and the asparagus at the grocery store seems to possibly be of more local origin. I'm not afraid to embrace the change (though my northern upbringing cautions that it's months too early to anticipate spring), and I can at least pin my hopes to the decreased desire to consume gallons of creamy soup and whole-roasted pigs. Perhaps the time is at hand for the lighter side of baking to shine in our recipe pursuit.

A fruit tart with custard could be nice...or Tracy's apple-ginger turnovers...maybe even some sort of angel food cake? Veggie pie could star the tender new plants that will pop out of the ground, and fail-safe souffle would celebrate the eggs that do thusly from chicken butts. Or the Easter Bunny...

-Which reminds me of the Easter weekend that I went to Capri via Naples (and ran into Rachel and her roommates there, proving much more fun than my and mine alone). Many many wonderful sights were seen and times had, but for now I just want to note an interesting bakery treat. On our long trip back, ferry from Capri to Naples and overnight train from Naples to Florence, my roommate and I were a little distressed (though we should have known) to find EVERYTHING closed in Naples on Easter, and us without dinner. But wait -- there! We spotted some patrons exiting a tiny bakery just a block from the train station.

We shyly stepped in, scanning the shelves for something hardier than a roll. There was a grandiose bread, quite a bit fancier and more involved than the cookies on either side of it. It was studded with whole hard-boiled eggs on top, and the cross-section revealed a quiche-like interior of egg, ham, and cheese. I chatted (read: mangled a few sentences in Italian) with the baker and tried to figure out what exactly this thing was. The baker was so pleased to meet a nice American that could speak with him, and said he was just closing up and was happy to give us giant slices of the bread/pie/quiche. He mentioned something about it being traditional Easter food, what with the eggs and celebratory rich ingredients. It was delicious and kept me full and content all the way back to Florence.

Skill Pickle

I've been thinking a lot about all the skills that are necessary for making a good meal. Guys only want girlfriends who have good skills. You know, like knife skills, whisking skills, kneading skills.

However, seems like the uber skill is timing. Think about it. Without good timing, your asparagus is done and getting cold while the pork is raw, or your guests are sitting -- stomachs growling -- waiting for a casserole to finish baking. You've got to know when to end a recipe, and I think what's even more tricky is knowing when to start a recipe. That's the worst. Not allocating enough time. At least if you start something too early you can re-heat it later.

It's been a long climb, but I think I've finally managed to get most of my timing down on the cooking. There have been a few awesome meals where I've been able to coordinate it so veggies, starches and meats are all completed at the same time. Strange how that can evoke such a sense of pride. Of course there have been many, oh so many, missteps along the way. Just two weeks ago I burnt a batch of cookies. And right now, I'm stomaching my way through a pot of overcooked tortellini soup. Mmmmm, bloated stuffed pasta (accompanied by mushy broccoli).

You'd think I'd learn. And even with this very endeavor. We TIMED IT PERFECTLY! Or, so we thought...Start practicing and baking in January. Perfect a recipe by March. Submit it in April. Be a millionaire by 2011. But oh, no! Turns out the P-bury bake-off is a bi-annual project. Timing fail! But better too early than too late. We can always re-heat these recipes when the time comes.

Live Free or Pie Hard

Blog overload! Claire has been too hard on herself below, with the descriptions of our caramel endeavors. And for the record, cubes of caramel WILL grate, but only on the largest holes of the box grater (and at an ambient room temperature below 71F). (Ted, I owe you $1.)

Truly yesterday was tremendous blog fodder. Before the crew came over for our usual dinner, I took the opportunity to hack up one bone-in pork shoulder – pernil, if you will. I won’t go into excruciating detail, but let’s just say there was a lot of blood. Something reminiscent of a certain scene from Carrie. OK, not quite that bad.

This hacked up pork became the base for a delicious meal of tinga and tostada. While it didn’t meet any of the P-bury bake-off requirements (not an easy entrée, nor an entertaining appetizer, and certainly not a family breakfast), it was a food product I was proud of. The slowly simmered pork, home-made chorizo and crispy corn tortillas came together nicely, and were even better when topped with a little queso fresco, cilantro, sour cream, lime and avocado. No pictures are available, and we licked the plates clean, so use your imagination.

I think the spices and labor-intensity of the entrée might have affected our judgment because, let’s be honest, we all made some mistakes on that dessert. The pie crust didn’t come out quite as planned. I also thought we probably should have doubled the amount of bananas used. It all worked out in the end though. I now have a half-consumed pie resting peacefully in my freezer, which I plan to wolf down as soon as I can leave my office. Also, I took the liberty of pouring Ted’s miraculous melted caramel cube/water syrup over the remaining pie as I was cleaning up last night. I’m salivating just thinking about it.

And while this blog is dedicated to the endeavor of pulling in some cold hard cash, I think we all know that the food has always been second fiddle to the real reason we cook. Having an opportunity to gather with friends, talk about the Olympics and pontificate about why competitors, namely gymnasts, aren’t naked. Claire really summed up the evening beautifully. “STDs! You can’t have everyone’s junk hitting the pommel horse.” Sigh…that’s what it’s all about.

Caramel Chameleon

Remember that fresh, spry idea we floated way-back-when in the first post, Frozen Bananas Foster Ice Cream Pie? Great. Now, what I really want to talk about is declensions. You see, the dative perhaps lends itself most easily, and confusingly, to elision in that...

Fine. I will admit to a highly embarrassing cooking gaffe, one so worn and predicable even dear Anne of Green Gables committed it: I mistook the salt for sugar. In my defense, and not to rip too much on her, Rachel keeps her flour, sugar, and salt in three neat storage containers on the counter, and has an inordinate amount of salt. As in, I drowned some bananas in almost a cup of it without really thinking because that amount did not significantly deplete the salt supply. Rachel also admitted to making this same mistake some weeks ago, despite having poured the salt into the container herself. So here are a few lessons:

- if you're making caramel (well, simple syrup in this case), don't use salt
- if you're making caramel and the "sugar" doesn't dissolve into the rapidly boiling water and become caramel, it is not sugar
- if you're making burnt-molasses-tasting, tooth-breaking, cement-setting candy, do rapidly boil brown sugar with butter for three minutes
- if you're making caramel with salt instead of sugar, but it didn't turn into caramel, and you're feeling like a flop, do not think that stirring in bananas will in any improve the concoction

I did not taste one, but apparently bananas soaked in a boiled solution of 3 parts salt to 2 parts water are horrifyingly inedible.

Before going completely bananas (ha...ha.) we thought, well, the Pills competition's secondary ingredients include Smucker's, so we'll just buy some caramel sauce. Bless them, Ted and Shenging volunteered to go to the store, and returned with caramels. The cubes. Note: these can not be grated at room temperature. They can be slowly melted with some water to form a pretty tasty sauce. Rachel snuck out and got some caramel sauce, and it felt like we might finally be on our way.

I somewhat redeemed myself by cleverly hacking away the ice-cream container and using a butcher knife to slice the ice cream, to more easily pack and shape it over a layer of bananas and caramel on the pie crust. We topped the ice cream with more bananas and caramel, and returned it to the freezer. Oh, topped with a single square of caramel.

Really, the most important thing is we had a good, though thoroughly exasperating -- in that way that comical mishaps make you giggle-groan, time. Culino ergo sum. And also, we are what we eat. Have another helping of laughter-producing-phallic-fruit-topping-with-frozen-cow-udder-discharge Dessert Delight. It will make you smile even if it doesn't taste amazing.

Sappy New Year

With the confluence of Valentine's Day and the Chinese New Year, the choice was easy: we made lots of Chinese food. We're guilty of taking off a week from Pills baking, but refreshed our pallets with the revelation of Shenging's mirin-lip-smackin' shrimp. Kristen sweetly cheered for St. V with personalized sugar cookies that were worlds better than any other sugar cookie. How does that woman do it?

Well, we've written about clever and humbling cooking experiences past, so maybe we each have a story about a dish offered at the altar of love. (Tracy, you've *got* to have a good tale here...) As a firm believer in the romantic power of baked goods, I can pretty much accurately claim to have baked at least 100 batches of delectables for wooing and woo-related purposes. One of the simplest and most impressive is key lime pie:

4-6 limes
2 cans sweetened condensed milk
1 egg
graham cracker crust

This gem is supposedly straight from the Keys, where my dad's parents used to visit family, and nabbed the recipe from a hotel restaurant. It is tart. It is rich. It is both flirtatious and soothing to squeeze limes with someone by hand (a reamer is a little too violent -- you wouldn't suggest skinning a fresh-caught rabbit to your date, now, would you?), and while the ingredients seem comically simple, they come together like a sleight-of-hand trick. How did you pull that silver dollar from behind my ear? How do these few components combine into a silky, citrusy, almost-too-much gratification?

There's snow business...

Well...as long as we're off-topic. I too was out enjoying the snow today. Our office closed early (woo hoo!), so I took the opportunity to trek it over to one of my favorite Long Island City hot spots - Socrates Sculpture Park. The whole place was covered in a massive blanket of pristine snow. I of course upset this perfect landscape by running through the park snapping photographs of the various exhibits. The picture to the right is IN COLOR. Isn't that amazing??? Although I've been in New York for a solid 8 1/2 years, snow is still a novelty. I suppose if you don't truly experience something before age 18 or so, it will always remain a spectacle and mysterious.

Spending all that time outside, during the peak of the blizzard no less, I got a wee bit tired out and damp. So I decided the best way to warm up and re-fuel was whip up some potato leek soup. There's a recipe in the latest issue of Cooks Illustrated. About half the bowls in my entire apartment were used during the somewhat labor intensive process, but oh lordy, was it worth it. Simmered leeks and onion, hearty leek broth, thin sliced potato and a few chunks of toasted bread came together for one of the best soups I think I've ever had. My mom has accused me of describing everything I eat as "amazing" or "the best." I can't help it. It really is!! (Oh, those garlic croutons on top didn't hurt either.)

Well, the snow is still falling. I'm warm at home, with a belly full of leeks. American Idol will be on a mere 10 minutes. What else could a girl ask for?

SNOW

I hope no one will mind this departure from our usual topics, but I just wanted to say that NYC is being treated to incredibly beautiful, bounteous snow. My apologies to those with actual things to get done and/or those poor souls who do not welcome the joy of snow into their hearts. Snow is clean and bright and soft and quiet and fun in about 8,000 ways. It just wants to play and be your friend, and cover you in a blanket when you lie back in your sled to smile at it, and eat it. (I guess that has something to do with food...)

98% Perspiration

Truly this was an exhausting weekend in terms of culinary energy expended. 5 recipes on Saturday (!!!!) -- which Claire has covered below.

In addition to that, I decided to re-vamp the "Chipotle Chicken Poppers" by substituting chorizo for the chicken, and adding a couple tablespoons of tomato sauce. That gave it a little more zing, which countered the mellow dinner rolls well. I also wasn't chintzy with the cheese on top or in the middle. The new "Chipotle Chorizo Poppers" accompanied me to Steve's Superbowl gathering, and while no one gave them a resounding hurrah, Oscar did say, "Yes. These are better. But they're still missing something." I'll take what I can get.

The idea for the re-vamp came from a recipe I had just read in Cooks Illustrated. That magazine is THE best cooking magazine. If you've never read through one, I highly recommend picking one up the next time you're lurking around Barnes and Nobel(s). (Yes, I see you there, in the cafe, sneakily perusing the latest issues of Car and Driver and Playstation Magazine.)

In fact, I've been finding more and more sources for inspiration. After several trips to the electronics and 99 cents stores, I've finally jerry-rigged my Internet connection to provide a few cable channels (shhhhh...lets keep that on the dl), including THE FOOD NETWORK! Now many mindless hours of foodie joy are mine. I'm really trying to be more inspired by Iron Chef America than Sandra Lee, but honestly it's all good. And with my awesome pre-owned 27" TV, I can actually see what they're cooking.

And let's not forget the mecca of P-bury inspiration: thisiswhyyourefat.com. Before this website was recommended to me, I hadn't even fathomed wrapping bacon around anything more than a meatball. Now I know that there are no limits to where saturated and trans fats can be snuck into a meal. Surly the judges would appreciate a masterpiece such as the donut upside-down cake.

My mission is to harness all this good energy and turn it into a winning recipe of my own.

Yes We Pump-Can!

Since the snow didn't make it, we whipped up a veritable flurry of cooking this weekend. We started out the weekend with some impressive inspiration with dinner at South Gate on Friday. We came, we ate, we surrendered. From the mouth-amusing cheese puffs, eager bread roll distributors, weighty wine-list lap top, and delightful cocktails to the richness of bread pudding, cilantro-flecked steak, lemon-ginger seafood pasta, and an avalanche of chocolately and fruity desserts (tarts, pots au creme, sorbets, a pistachio mousse!), we were extremely joyful.

So on Saturday, we got down to business. Biz-NASS. With help from Ted, Shenging, and Matt, we turned out a smorgasboard of chocolate-ricotta cookies. Lessons learned (for me at least): 1. ricotta tastes like nothing, and 2. styling desserts after other foods is cute. While the taste was lackluster, our ravioli shapes were oddly adorable, like a dog dressed up in a kitten costume. Or, perhaps, a clock with a cozy flannel shirt.

After that warm-up round (and some dinner with actual vegetables to veer from our cookie-laden path to sugar-induced physical and emotional disorders), we considered one of the under-appreciated gems of baking: pumpkin puree. This humble, retro-colored, ploppy fellow warms the cockles of my heart and unhinges my jaws with joy throughout the seasons as pumpkin cookies, gnocchi, soup, roasted chunks on salad, and of course pie (and cheesecake!), and has even crossed over to assume beverage duties in our ale.

1 can of pumpkin. Endless baking properties. It adds moisture, texture, lightness, density, plays leading man or recedes to the background as a favorite character actor and work horse. We made monkey-bread my mixing it in with Pills cinnamon rolls, dipping scoops of that batter in butter, then topping the gooey mass of amazingness with pumpkin-spiked frosting. We also made muffins with a Pills cake mix base, apples, and cinnamon. Imagine the warm scent of these orange-gold splendorous orbs, baking that elemental yet exotic cinnamon into sweet-comfort perfection. I don't think I can say anything more.

Curds and Whoa!

Claire's description below perfectly describes our Sunday night, but for those of you who've let TV rot your mind and imagination...here's a little peek at what we created.

We'll Always Have Stuffed French Toast...

Bonjour mes amis, et -- er? Sacre bleu!

This wily, experimental baking has made for a steep learning curve, but we're on it like a French guy with his girlfriend at the park. Well, objects of beauty (near-beauty) have been gazed upon and perilously mauled.

Rachel's poppers were a great kick-off, and I do think we deserve points for "nutting up" and going savory first. Anybody can make a good dessert. It takes that aforementioned moxie to mold chicken into tasty submission.


On Sunday, we continued the southwest theme with some Jalapeno-Cornbread Cheesy Surprises. (Yes, "surprise" is such a doomed culinary descriptor...) Mixing some minced jalaps, red bell pepper, cheddar, cornmeal, milk, and Pills Dinner Rolls was a snap, as I enjoy getting my hands covered in food-related goo. We plopped the new dough into a muffin tins, and secreted a cube of cheddar in the center. They tasted pretty durn good, though were quite heavy. Bombs, even. So perhaps a re-do with some baking soda and/or egg, and some spices to add a little je ne sais quoi.

Which brings us to the next trial: Stuffed French Toast. AKA French Maid Stuffed with White Sauce. Don't think about it.

Stop for just a minute and imagine: what if you had the ability to serve your own fresh-baked baguette to impress the hubby and wow the kiddies? Well, Pills is there to help you score all around. They have somehow in-tube-ated dough for French bread. You can cut the slits on top, brush it with egg, and everything. Maybe we should call it Freedom Bread.

Anyway, Rachel and I divided the dough so as to maximize experimentation (and minimize expenditure). After an ill-fated bowl of curded cream cheese and egg, we got our $hit together and made a yummy filling with said c.c., sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon. Then, genius flashed: Rachel thought to poke the bread with a fork, letting egg seep in and therefore rendering the bread french-toast-y. The two versions both tasted good, though the pans were not enticing.


So, three non-dessert recipes, with passing grades, in one weekend. Get ready for the overwhelming force of creativity that will be unleashed by our partaking in NYC's Restaurant Week TWICE this week!

Chipotle Chicken Poppers

Well, I've done it. I've made at least one item that both qualifies for the pillsbury bake-off and tastes half-way decent.

This first round experiment is an homage to a trip that I took about a year ago with my mom to Santa Fe. I just really, really fell in love with the food there and thought I should do something that's a little peppery as a first attempt.

Behold the ingredients that my alchemy would turn into a million dollars: 1 jalapeno, some shredded cheese, ground chicken, goya hominy, chipotles in adobo and (of course) some pillsbury dinner rolls.

I started off dicing and sauteing the jalapeno in a little oil. I took the jalapeno out, set it aside and added the chicken, about a tablespoon of the adobo sauce and one diced chipotle pepper (seeds removed). Once the chicken was cooked through, I poured in the hominy and let that heat through.

Thus began the assembly process. First I rolled out each dinner roll and gave them a layer of the sauteed jalapeno, which I had mixed with a little cheese. Then I piled on a spoonful of the chicken/chipotle/hominy mixture. I balled that all up and sent it to the oven!

Results were somewhat mixed. Everyone who sampled it had different feedback -- too spicy, could use more spice, too bready, needs more cheese. Suffice it to say, this was a good first effort, but will definitely need some tweaking before its "ready for primetime." Any thoughts on hominy? Is it too fancy or unknown for this competition? (I included it to help cut the spiciness of the chipotle, and to mix up the texture.)