Spooning the Dish

A Baker's Wife's Pastry Shop

2014-01-23T17:11:00.000-08:00

I'm grateful for the baker and his wife. They don't know me, but I visit their shop every time I'm in Minneapolis. This bakery has been a Twin Cities fixture since 1987 and it has special time warp powers. It's not fancy inside, there are no pastel walls serving as a backdrop to white porcelain cake stands topped with trendy cupcakes or any kind of minimalist, hipster aesthetics. It's like going to visit a favorite relative's home filled with familiar smells, endearing knick knacks, hand made signs, and all the chaos of a family working feverishly to give you the best pastries you've ever tasted. The pastries are displayed on plastic trays in a glass case like they were in the days when we were all riding banana bikes and wearing knee socks. It's a little slice of heaven if you suffer from chronic nostalgia and prefer something authentic and unpretentious.

It's really about the pastries though. People keep coming no matter what they think of the unfussy interior. The baker is Gary Tolle and the baker's wife is Margaret Mossberg Tolle. Gary is a former pastry chef of Manhattan's Plaza Hotel and together he and his wife have created a Midwest legacy bakery. The pastries are gigantic, buttery and represent the best of American baking, from high brow to low. A Baker's Wife's shop is especially known for great doughnuts and lemon bars. I was there in November with my sister. She ordered a Caramel Cake and I ordered a Mankato Butter Cake with a chocolate glazed cake donut on the side. We did a little taste test and the Mankato Butter Cake came out the clear winner for both of us. It was so buttery and sweet that it melted into your mouth as you took a bite. I wish everyone could have a baker and his wife in their neighborhood. Lines here are often long and it's important to note that they only accept cash & checks. No cards! More than once I've found myself digging in my coat pockets for quarters because I forgot that little aspect of the lovable time warp. Go there. A Baker's Wife's Pastry Shop can be found at 4200 28th Ave. S., Minneapolis, MN 55406. They don't have a website, but they do have a Facebook page.

Whisky Buttermilk Pie with Mapled Bacon & Pecans

2013-12-08T20:51:00.001-08:00

One of my earliest attempts at making pie happened when I was in my early twenties. I was living in Seattle, apart from my family. It was Thanksgiving and I was homesick for mom's pumpkin pie so I decided to try and make it the way she did. My mom always makes her pie crusts from scratch using her mother's and grandmother's recipes. I didn't think it would be that hard, and as usual, I was wrong about not needing to practice. The crust fell apart before I could get it into the pie plate and then after getting some of it in the pie plate and adding the filling, I over-baked the pie. What came out of the oven was a plate of darkened pumpkin with a pool of oil on top and a dark brown crust sticking out on one side, but not the other. I proudly wrapped it up and took it to a friend's family gathering where I saw someone in the dessert line point to it and say "what the 'expletive' is that?"

I didn't try making pie again until I moved back to Iowa. Again I tried making my pie crust using our family recipe, and again it fell apart on me. I ended up throwing the whole thing out because I was so frustrated and mad. Still, I wasn't giving up and decided I would try learning with a different crust recipe. I went to the library and checked out The Joy of Cooking's All About Pies and Tarts. I attempted making their Deluxe Butter Flaky Pastry Dough also known as Pâte Brisée and was able to produce my first successful crust. From then on, I read as much as I could about pie making until I developed an understanding for technique and method. The crust recipe I most often use these days is one I read about in Cooks Illustrated called Foolproof Pie Dough which uses vodka as way to add more moisture to the crust without the risk of toughening the dough. So much of the failure that occurs when making and rolling out a pie dough is that it's very dry and temperamental. If you handle it too much, if you add too much water, if you do anything too much then it gets angry and cracks, sticks, and tears. So, if you give it a little vodka, then the dough starts to relax and go with the flow. I'm not kidding about this. This is one of the best recipes for pie dough I've ever used because of how the vodka interacts with the other ingredients. Click here to view the recipe for Foolproof Pie Dough which is available on Serious Eats.

In time I became known for my pies and instead of expletives of dismay, my pies began calling forth expletives of gratification Throughout the years, I've practiced making all kinds of pie following recipes with exact precision. Now I'm to a point where I feel bold enough to go out on my own in playing with ingredients and coming up with ideas. This Thanksgiving I wanted to make a buttermilk pie with the flavor of maple and bacon and as I was making it, I decided to add some whisky to the mix. I made it the day after Thanksgiving and decided it was almost a holiday hangover pie of sorts since it infuses a little hair of the dog with the buttermilk, bacon, and maple for a morning pie that will make friends and family swear in a good way. I haven't revisited my great grandmother's pie crust recipe since my failed attempts, but someday I'm going to to confront the past.

Whisky Buttermilk Pie with Mapled Bacon & Pecans

(The beaten egg whites give this pie it's light, airy consistency which pairs nicely with the richer sweetness of the topping. My inspiration for the buttermilk filling came from a 1958 copy of Good Housekeeping's Party Pie Book. The whisky simply adds a subtle nuance to the tanginess of the buttermilk filling.)

Make or buy a pie dough of your choice for a single crust 9" pie. For Cooks Illustrated's Foolproof Pie Dough, click here. Roll out and fit into a 9-inch pie plate.

2/3 cup granulated sugar

3 Tbsp flour

1/4 tsp salt

3 egg yolks (beaten slightly)

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups buttermilk

1/4 cup whisky

1/4 cup melted butter

3 egg whites at room temperature

1 cup chopped toasted pecans

2 Tbsp butter for toasting pecans

1/2 cup crumbled cooked bacon

1 Tbsp maple syrup

Preheat oven to 400℉. I like to bake the crust a little bit before I add the filling so the crust doesn't get soggy. This process is called blind baking. By now you should have already rolled out your pie crust and fit it into the pie plate. Press a sheet of aluminum foil onto the crust, draping over rim of pie plate. To blind-bake, fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake it until the edge of the crust is firm, about 20 minutes. Remove weights and foil; let crust cool completely and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the sugar, flour, and salt. In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks slightly and then add to dry ingredients. Also add the vanilla, buttermilk, whisky, and butter and whisky.

In a large bowl, beat the egg whites until they're stiff and peaks start to form, but don't beat them until they become dry. The whites should look shiny and form peaks that stand up on their own. If you see the whites starting to form granules along the side of the bowl, then you'll know you've gone too far. I use the lowest setting on my electric hand mixer.

Slowly add the yolk mixture to the egg whites and beat just until combined. Pour into the cooled pie shell and return to the oven to bake at 400℉ for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat to 325℉ and bake for another 30 to 40 minutes or until a knife or toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. You'll need to watch and make sure the edges of your crust don't get too brown and if they are, just throw a pie ring over the edges or loosely place a piece of foil over the pie. When it appears to be done, take it out and place it on a rack to cool. Note that the buttermilk/egg filling is going to rise up quite a bit because of the air in the egg whites, but as it cools, the filling will go back down.

As the pie is cooling, you can work on the topping. Fry the bacon until it's good and crispy, then set it aside to drain and cool on paper towels.

Either on a rimmed sheet in the oven or in a pan on the stove, toss the pecans with the butter and cook at medium heat until you draw out the smell and they start to brown and then promptly take them away from the heat. I did mine in a skillet on the stove, melting the butter first and then adding the pecans. It only takes about 5 to 7 minutes to get them toasted.

Crumble the bacon into small pieces and mix with the toasted pecans in a bowl. Add the maple syrup and toss with your fingers to coat. Using your fingers, sprinkle the topping over the buttermilk pie. Don't worry if the pie is still warm, adding the topping won't hurt the structure of the pie. Then press the topping down a little bit with the back of a spatula.

It's now ready to be enjoyed for a little day-after-the-feast feasting.

Helen Brown's White Wine Potato Salad

2013-11-24T12:41:00.000-08:00

For years I've been attending a fall barn party in which everyone brings a dish to share with the wine, beer, and live music provided by the hosts. This year I decided to find a simple dish that would be cheap to make, feed many, and wouldn't be a high risk perishable. My inspiration came from a cookbook I'd recently purchased, Helen Brown's West Coast Cook Book, published in 1952. The recipe I liked was the California Potato Salad with White Wine. It seemed simple, but the addition of white wine was a charm, and the short list of ingredients was accessible. I found that white wine is in fact a great pairing for potatoes and building this salad was easy. It's one of those dishes you can make ahead of time for any event, but especially useful if you don't want to worry about keeping something hot or cold. It was a taste explosion of the best kind. Helen Brown's West Coast Cook Book was a four dollar investment which I consider to be a boon.

Helen Evans Brown and I could've been great friends in a different lifetime. She was a food writer and chef from Pasadena, California that also collected cookbooks. By the time of her death in 1964, Helen's collection included 5,000 titles on food history and cooking. The titles that withstood the test of time are now being sold off by Janet Jarvits of Cook Books. Ironically, not much is written about Helen Brown herself. James Beard was a close friend and together they wrote The Complete Book of Outdoor Cookery. It's unfortunate that Helen isn't well known since her West Coast Cook Book was actually a seminal work on Western American food culture, drawing from the food traditions of both immigrant and native populations. In 1952, the West Coast was still cultivating its culinary identity in the spirit of gaining acceptance and recognition from the East Coast establishment. That's why Helen Brown's West Coast Cook Book was so important, because it gathered without prejudice, the foodways of the entire western coast, from California to Washington state (the exception being Alaska, which hadn't yet become a state). In her introduction, Helen explains the sources for all the recipes, which resonates with me and my own attempts at collecting oral and written food histories.

"The recipes have come from many sources. Some were evolved from tantalizing and usually vague descriptions by early historians. Many came from early cook books - books which bear considerable resemblance to one another, as the good ladies of that day stole quite shamelessly from one another. As these books were invariably compiled to raise funds for some worthy cause, this larceny probably had a heavenly blessing. These recipes have been adapted for modern use. Some are recipes from old families, which I have been fortunate in obtaining, and some are for dishes now so well known that, out here, we cook them without benefit of rules, and invariably have our own versions. Then there are some fine recipes from famous eating places on the West Coast."

I'm ecstatic to have discovered Helen Brown, my soul sister from the great beyond. Helen having fronted for the West Coast, me fronting for the Middle West, both obsessive cookbook collectors who troll for recipes from anywhere and anyone. This will not be my last word on Helen because I'd also like to delve into some of her other recipes, like Chinese Almond Cakes, Hangtown Fry, and Bodega Dill Beans.

As for the white wine potato salad, it keeps nicely for up to two days, and should actually be made several hours ahead of time. I found this out since in my typical scattered approach to life, I showed up to the barn party at the right time, but on the wrong day. I was a day early and knew something was up when I pulled into the grassy field to park and heard Pour Some Sugar on Me blasting from the open barn doors. I spotted a large guy wearing a tux and a purple vest and realized I was about to crash an Iowa wedding reception with my West Coast Potato Salad. Oops. Back home I went and popped the salad back in the fridge.

Helen Brown's White Wine Potato Salad

(I've renamed this recipe to pay homage to its curator. Because I made this for a larger gathering, I doubled the recipe, but the recipe as written here, should serve 8 to 10. If you decide to make this salad, set aside a glass of the white wine to toast Helen Evans Brown.)

Boil 5 large potatoes (I used regular old Russets) until just tender. Just tender is key, because you don't want the potatoes to get too soft or they'll fall apart when you start mixing in the other ingredients, and all the marinating is going to soften them even more. After boiling, slice or dice the potatoes, and dress while warm, with 2/3 of a cup of white table wine mixed with 1/3 cup of olive oil, a tablespoon of white wine vinegar, 1/4 cup of minced green onions, 2 tablespoons of minced parsley, salt and pepper to taste, and 1/4 cup of melted butter. Let marinate for several hours before serving. Don't worry if the mixture appears soupy at first, because as it marinates, the potatoes are going to absorb the liquid. By the time you take it out to serve, the flavors will have married and heightened into something amazing. Helen also suggests that boiled, halved chestnuts mixed in make it even more interesting.

5 large potatoes
2/3 cup white wine
1/3 cup olive oil
1 Tablespoon white wine vinegar
1/4 cup minced green onions
2 Tablespoons minced parsley
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup melted butter

October Cake

2013-10-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

It's been too long since I've written a post. I've been fiddling with the blog design, which is an ever evolving process of tweaking something, making a big mistake, trying to fix it, and starting all over again. This was the explanation I gave to my high school guidance counselor when we met to discuss why I was failing sewing class my freshman year. Basically, it was nearing the end of the semester and I had turned in nothing. I couldn't get past our first project, making a stuffed rabbit. It was to be made from a fabric of my choosing. I chose florals and lace with the idea of creating a Victorian masterpiece, a design the Laura Ashley company would want to add to their home collection. No one told me that sewing required patience and practice before I could turn out perfection. After a semester of seam ripping, multiple restarts, cursing under my breath, and parent-teacher meetings, I finally finished a rabbit worthy of county fair entry rather than the Laura Ashley Home Collection. At that point, nobody cared what it looked like, they just wanted me to finish and end our collective misery. In the end, my home-ec teacher took pity on my obsessive compulsive proclivities and graded me on quality rather than quantity. It still follows that when I get an idea for how I want something to look, I can't move on until it's exactly the way I had envisioned. As illustrated, this obsession with perfection can sometimes be a curse.

Sewing and I never reconnected after that and later in life baking became my thing. As of lately, cakes have been my focus and October Cake is one I've been thinking on for the past year. The important ingredient in the cake is apple cider. Using a locally made cider is worth your while for the quality of the taste and we are now in the height of apple season, so why not enjoy the fruits of the harvest? I picked up a half gallon produced by our local apple orchard. The idea for this cake was adapted from a 1959 copy of Farm Journal's Country Cookbook. In this book, the recipe is titled Cider and Spice Cake, but an accompanying note said it was referred to by someone's grandmother as October Cake and that's the name I liked best because it speaks to its seasonal appeal. The filling has a wonderful tart flavor set against the backdrop of apple and spice.

October Cake

Cake
3 cups sifted cake flour
1 Tbsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
3/4 cup butter
1 1/2 cups brown sugar, firmly packed
3 eggs, beaten
1 Tbsp. lemon juice (freshly squeezed is preferable)
1 cup apple cider

Cider Filling
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
3 Tbsp. constarch
1 cup apple cider
2 Tbsp. lemon juice (freshly squeezed is preferable)
2 Tbsp. butter

Creamy Cider Icing
1/2 cup butter
3 1/2 Tbsp. flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 cup apple cider
3 cups sifted confectioners sugar

For the cake: Preheat oven to 350 ℉. Butter and flour 3 round 8" cake pans. Sift together flour, baking powder, salt and spices. Cream butter and sugar, add eggs, and beat until thoroughly blended.

Add lemon juice to cider. Add alternately with dry ingredients to creamed mixture, beating after each addition.

Pour batter into the 3 prepared pans. Bake for 30 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean and the cakes are golden and spring-back when touched.

Set the pans on a cooling rack for 10 minutes before you flip them over and turn the cakes out to further cool on the racks.

For the cider filling: Combine sugar, salt, and cornstarch in saucepan. Add cider and combine. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly until the mixture becomes thick and somewhat clear. Remove from heat and add lemon juice and butter. Set aside to cool.

For the creamy cider icing: Melt the butter in a saucepan, then blend in the the flour and salt. Add the cider and stir well. Bring to a boil and cook for 1 minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Add the confectioners sugar and beat well.

Assemble the cake by spreading half the cider filling on one cake round. Set another round on top and spread the rest of the cider filling on top of that layer. Top it with the third round and then frost the top and sides with the creamy cider icing. Top with something like walnuts or pecans or maybe even a sprinkling of cinnamon-sugar and you'll have a beautiful fall cake that wears the flavor of the season.

Word Up: the week's reads

2013-10-06T21:08:00.002-07:00

I'm pretty excited about this rainbow stack of books. They're little cookbooks by the French Chef, Keda Black. I was in one of my favorite thrift stores this week and discovered them on a bottom shelf. Each book has an ingredient theme and the recipes are simple. It's the little things in life sometimes.

Some other reads I've been spooning this week:

{The Mother Jones article, Why Your Supermarket Only Sells 5 Kinds of Apples, is a fascinating history of apple growing and explains how many unique varieties have been lost in America. John Bunk is determined to find and save them.}

{Marcella Hazan, 1924-2012, Changed the Way Americans Cook Italian Food is the New York Times tribute to the great chef who passed away last week-end. Oddly enough, both Marcella and Lidia Bastianich showed up in my dream last night.}

{The Guardian article, Rise and Shine: the daily routines of history's most creative minds, is great. Did you know Benjamin Franklin was a nudist throughout the morning? Anyways, I've been inspired to look at my own routines and see how I can make them more bizarre in order to fan the creative flames.}

{One of my all-time favorite authors, Wendell Berry, was a guest on Bill Moyers this week. If you have the time, check out the interview. Wendell writes fiction, nonfiction, poetry, philosophy. He does it all, but his nonfiction, specifically his Agrarian essays have had a major impact on me. It should be noted that Mr. Berry rarely gives interviews.}

{If you like beer then you have to look at this beer chart. It's like a beer family tree that connects brands and types. Impressive design work.}

{I can't wait to get my hands on a copy of The New Midwestern Table by Amy Thielen. Read a little interview with her here.}

Have great week!

Poetry and Porridge: the teachings of Ireland

2013-10-05T16:53:00.000-07:00

The best thing about traveling is it removes me from my comfort zone of daily routine and vicarious living by way of TV dramas and social media updates. I also find that when I take leave of my collective belongings and reduce my necessary material items to whatever fits in a suitcase, that a burden has been lifted from me. All I have to worry about is a bag, and when that's gone, as I experienced in Ireland, then I'm confronted with the mere fact that life goes on with or without belongings. In Ireland, I found myself being internally realigned to value real life moments more than things. You see, the Garda in Drogheda did recover my bag, which I'm guessing turned up on the side of the road. They called us at Ballynahinch castle on our second to last day in Ireland and said we could come get it if we wanted. However, that meant a five hour drive back to the east side of Ireland on our last day of visiting Connemara and the castle. I thought about it for a few minutes, but it was a no-brainer. There was nothing in my bag worth the sacrifice of mine or my aunt's joyful time at Ballynahinch. The Garda offered to donate my things to a local shelter and I felt nothing could be more perfect or right with the world than that.

I think traveling also challenges your assumptions about people, places, and things. There's no good way of really knowing the truths of the world without seeing and experiencing first hand. My assumption, however minor, that was challenged in Ireland was my belief that anything called porridge was a horrid gruel served by cruel adults to children living in an orphanage. Imagine my surprise when at breakfast on my first day in Dublin and at every subsequent breakfast to follow in Ireland, there was always a big pot of porridge. Yet, we were not bunking at any kind of institutional care facility. I avoided it on my first day, but on the second I had to cross the gauntlet. I stood back and watched a well dressed woman who was dipping the ladle into the pot o'paste. After she dumped a ladle full into a bowl, I watched as she dressed her porridge with cream, dried fruit, brown sugar, maple syrup, and muesli. Wowee!!! I hadn't noticed the accoutrements before! I suddenly had a feeling about porridge. I scooped my own ladle full, dressed it up with all the fixings, and raced back to the table. First bite in and yes, oh yes, it was amazing. Figuring out how to make it was the first order of business upon returning to the states. Basically, Irish porridge is oatmeal made from steel cut oats, which you can find in most grocery stores. Steel cut oats are not flattened and rolled like the quick cooking oatmeal we're used to in the states. If you really want to do it right, get a can of McCann's imported Irish oats. Just follow the cooking instructions on the package and then dress up your porridge with whatever you want or have at home. It's thick, but not pasty, and it becomes a wonderful canvas for whatever flavors and textures you add.

This trip to Ireland also rekindled my love of poetry. Maybe it's because the beauty of Ireland has been the inspiration for so many poets and because I was traveling with my aunt, who is a huge lover of poetry herself. On my second night at Ballynahinch Castle, I stayed up talking to John, the night porter, and we were having a discussion about William Butler Yeats. John shared his favorite Yeats poem with me titled He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven. In this poem, Yeats is expressing how if he had the means, he would bestow wonderful riches upon the one he loves, but because he is poor, all he can offer are his dreams. He asks his loved one to take that into consideration in the handling of his heart since his dreams are all he has. This trip for me, was like being offered the Cloths of Heaven. It is the most beautiful place I have ever been to for so many different reasons. I did find adventure and the love I found was that of the country itself. I am forever grateful to Lucy and my parents for making this adventure possible. I hope I can go back someday, but until then I have to experience it through literature and film. If you're interested in the Irish culture I've been partaking of, you may want to browse my online bookshelf. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you William Butler Yeats:

He Wishes for the Clothes of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered clothes,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

-William Butler Yeats

Ireland Part Four: handmaidens, unicorns, and pirate queens

2013-09-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there were two peasant women, an aunt accompanied by her niece, and they were in search of a castle. They were traveling in an economy Ford Fiesta and were hoping to reach the castle before the drawbridge was raised for the night. Both were hopeful they would be welcomed and not forced to work as handmaides.

We had no idea what to expect from Ballynahinch Castle. Most of my ideas about castles are based on fairytales and BBC dramas. I'd never actually been to a castle before, but in my imagining there was usually a moat, a drawbridge, a tower, and a Mr. Darcy. This castle, Ballynahinch, is located in the region of Connemara, a peninsula northwest of Galway. It's a more remote area, slightly off the beaten path, as we discovered in our search to find it. Ballynahinch had not actually been in our plans. Galway was the destination of desire, but there were no rooms available. There were horse races going on and the city was packed. The nearest accommodation was at this castle and my aunt was slightly dismayed at how far it seemed to be from Galway. As we drove farther out, the landscape started to change. There were fewer houses until there were almost no houses, the landscape became rocky and there were small mountains and hills popping up, usually flanked by a lake or a waterway. There was none of the busyness of Kerry, no tour buses, and few other cars.

We were unsure of where the castle was located exactly. I had a couple of towns marked on the map where we thought it might be, but we were counting on signs. The driving hadn't been that difficult this day, but as the area became more remote and the sun began to set, our need to find this castle felt urgent. I had visions of the Fiesta breaking down leaving Lucy and I to stumble across the moors with the "hounds of hell" on our heels (have you read The Hound of the Baskervilles?). I think I may have been expecting lots of signage advertising the castle because I'm an American and I've been to Wall Drug. The idea that this castle might be a gimicky King Arthur playland, complete with reenactments, was dissipating. We weren't seeing any signs and soon we would be nearing a turn-off that we should maybe take, but neither one of us knew for sure. Fortunately, out-of-nowhere came a discreet sign on the corner of a country road that said Ballynahinch Castle with an arrow pointing down the road and the number of Kilometers to get there. So, off we went down the little road and we drove and we drove and it seemed like we had gone much farther than what the sign said. We were about to give up and drive back to reread the sign, when all of a sudden there was another little sign that said Ballynahinch, 40 meters (or something like that) and it wasn't long before we saw the sign that pointed to the entrance.

As we made our way up the drive, we ceased talking. The suspense over Ballynahinch Castle hung in the air. We were at the base of a mountain following a lane that curved back and forth with trees and flowers on both sides and a shimmering river off to the left. The castle stayed out of view until we reached the top of the lane and then there it was.

The magnificence of the building and the setting is beyond words or pictures. We pulled up and parked the Ford Fiesta in amongst the Bentleys and the Mercedes. We still hadn't spoken and we dared not even look at one another because it all seemed too good to be true. How had we ended up here? This couldn't possibly be our castle. Unless, maybe they had some musty cabins down by the river. We left the car and walked up to the castle door. It opened as we approached and there stood a man in a white shirt, tie, and vest. He ushered us inside, where we were greeted at an elegantly carved desk by a woman named Jane.

There was no mistake, we were officially registered as guests at Ballynahinch. It was about 9 p.m. and as Jane checked us in, she said "Oh ladies, it looks like you've had a hard journey, are you hungry?" How did she know? We were starving for everything this castle had to offer: the food, the ambience, the luxury, and the castleness of it all. Jane called upon the pub manager to see what he could do for us since the restaurant was closed and the pub had just stopped serving food. When he arrived, he greeted us and also said, "Oh ladies, it looks like you've had a hard journey, are you hungry?" I'm not sure what we looked like, but Ireland is hands down one of the most hospitable places on Earth. The pub manager offered to put together a cold platter of smoked salmon, prosciutto, cheese, and bread along with a tomato bisque soup. We were then shown to our room, which was not a musty cabin. It was a suite on the top floor of the castle, complete with canopied bed, walk-in shower, jacuzzi tub, walk-in closet, views of the castle grounds, and a sitting area. After the porter left us, Lucy and I did our jumping up and down, squealing, hugging etc. Then we collected ourselves, put on our cool faces and went down to enjoy our salmon and wine in the quiet castle pub. We spent the next two days soaking it all in: the grounds with their walking trails, the food, the company, and the beauty of Connemara and its seaside towns. We never made it to Galway and we didn't care.

It's no wonder Colman Andrews devotes an entire chapter to salmon in The Country Cooking of Ireland. Salmon in Ireland is plentiful and delicious. The restautant at Ballynahinch can serve salmon caught fresh from the estate's fisheries.

Some things you should know about Ballynahinch:

The history of this castle goes back to 1384.
Writers love Ballynahinch and it has a distinct connection to the literary arts.
It's nestled on a 450 acre estate of woodlands, gardens, lakes, and rivers.
You may see unicorns grazing on the estate grounds, but only if you have "the gift" of sensing their presence as I do.
The castle restaurant is amazing and has been recognized by Food & Wine magazine time and again.
Crackling logs burn away in the reception area fireplace nearly all the time.
There is a library with leather wing chairs and its own fireplace.
When you look out at the castle grounds from the gabled windows of your room, you believe your name is Princess So-and-So.
One of the most famous residents was the pirate queen of Connaugh, Grace O'Malley. She moved in around the year 1546.
Live music in the pub on Saturdays.
Fly fishing is the main reason many guests come to Ballynahinch. There's even a fisherman on staff.
The crowd is high society at its casual best.
The night porter, John, knows far more about Irish writers and Irish history than any college professor.
Unfortunately, there are no ghosts at Ballynahinch.
The castle staff are splendid.
Ballynahinch is a castle of the people and for the people.

Secret passageways at Ballynahinch.

The town of Roundstone, Connemara.

The Shepherds

2013-09-05T19:25:00.000-07:00

Ireland Part Three: ballykissthemen and the forty shades of green

2013-09-04T21:40:00.000-07:00

Arriving in Killarney began an entirely different chapter in our journey. Western Ireland is where we truly discovered the Irish countryside and saw with our own eyes that it's everything they say and more. You can't possibly imagine how beautiful. We arrived in the evening and didn't go exploring the countryside until the next day. Lucy and I were on a live music mission that night in Killarney and found it at O'Conners. We settled in with our Guinness pints and were treated to a mix of traditional Irish and Americana performed by a couple of young gents with incredible talent. As I waited at the bar for our first round, I visited with a local woman. Upon finding out I was American, she told me right away how much she loved Johnny Cash. She wasn't alone. It happened again later when I was visiting with some other locals, who said the same thing to me, "You're from America? Ohhhhhh, I love Johnny Cash!" Needless to say, that night's performance included more than one Johnny Cash song, and of course one of them was his famous tribute to the Emerald Isle, "Forty Shades of Green". Well, thank you Ireland, we love him too. It was a great night in which we made some new friends from Germany and in which I made up for not kissing the Blarney Stone by kissing the Irishmen of Killarney.

The next day we took a bus tour around the Ring of Kerry, an extensive circular drive that takes you past beaches, the Atlantic Ocean with its little islands, medieval ruins, mountains, and lakes. Your head rotates around and around on your neck as you try to absorb every beautiful sight crashing upon you like wave after wave. It was amazing. We stopped for lunch at a little spot called the Vista Bar & Restaurant which claims to have the best view in Ireland. They might be right about the view. Sticking with the traditional dishes of Ireland, we ordered Shepherd's Pie and savored another comforting meal.

Our bus was driven by the fearless and seasoned John O'Connor, a natural-born storyteller with a perfect sense of humor. He took to those little windy roads in that big bus like they were nothing but a lazy river under a yacht. John and I hit it off, and in spite of our age difference, developed a little crush. He told everyone on the bus that the last woman on had to kiss the driver, and well, John made sure I was the last woman on at every stop. Killarney is the town to go to if you want to be kissed. John tried to talk me into meeting him for a pint, but alas, Lucy and I needed to hit the road for our final destination, the castle.

Ireland Part Two: the empress's new clothes & the reign of markets

2013-08-31T10:26:00.000-07:00

Cork City Shopping

Waking up at the Imperial Hotel in Cork City with no clothes wasn't the result of a torrid love affair. Rather, it was waking up to deal with the fact my clothes were gone because they'd been stolen (see Ireland Part One). Regardless of our predicament, The Imperial Hotel is beautiful and historic, in fact, Charles Dickens had once been a guest. It's outfitted in dark wood, marble, and fresh flowers. Regretfully, I didn't photograph it, but I was trying to conserve my camera battery until I could get a replacement charger.

In Drogheda, I had managed to buy some knickers and toiletries, but still needed some clothes to see me through the rest of the trip. The woman managing the front desk at The Imperial kindly recommended a store called Penneys which carries inexpensive knock-offs of current fashions. It was near the hotel, so I went there directly and spent the next hour trying to figure out European sizes and squeezing myself into the trendy "super skinny jeans" which were the only jeans available at Penny's. I had never before dared to put on a skinny jean, but I was cornered. Much to my surprise, I liked the tight, stretchy Mick Jagger pants and bought four pairs in different colors. I owe a huge debt to the thieves who took away my tired boot leg jeans and forced me, legs first, into becoming a nouveau hipster.

Enough about skinny jeans, Cork City is actually about food. It is in fact, the culinary mecca of Ireland. The famous English Market is nestled in the heart of the downtown, and houses vendors selling seafood, produce, meat, poultry, spices, baked goods, and chocolates. It reminds me of The Pike Place Market in Seattle, one of my other favorite places on Earth. The name, English Market, seems odd in Ireland, but it goes back to the earlier history of the city. It was established in 1788 as the Grand Parade market by a Protestant (English) corporation that controlled commerce in the city. At that time, Catholics were not allowed to be vendors at the Grand Parade. In response, Catholic vendors established their own market in the city, named St. Peter's Market. Eventually, the two markets came to be known simply as The English Market and The Irish Market. In the long run, only The English Market survived. However, by the time the Irish Market closed, Catholics had gained full membership to The English Market. It still stands today as a home to all the regionally procured treasures that make Ireland special to food lovers.

The market is also home to the esteemed Farmgate Café. The cafe is on the second floor of the market with a layout allowing diners to look down on all the goings-on of the market as they savor their meals. Farmgate is revered for their take on simple, traditional Irish food prepared from locally sourced ingredients. Lucy and I had lunch there, and we could have ordered anything off the chalkboard menu and been outrageously pleased. We both ended up choosing the Irish Lamb Stew. I wanted something classic and the fact that it was another chilly, rainy day beckoned for comfort food. The stew came with a wonderful heaping of Irish mashers to go with.

I can't write about Cork and not mention Darina Allen, one of Ireland's most famous chefs. Darina has been referred to as the "Julia Child of Ireland" and that's probably because she is a pioneer in teaching other people to cook simple, traditional dishes using fresh local ingredients, not just in the Irish tradition, but with an emphasis on world cuisine. She has her own cooking shows and is a renowned cookbook author. In 1983, she and her husband started the Ballymaloe Cookery School, which is located in County Cork. The school has become one of the most famous cooking schools in Europe. As if that weren't enough, Darina also founded the first farmer's market in Ireland. A few years ago, I bought her cooking compendium, Forgotten Skills of Cooking, and it's become one of my all time favorite cookbooks. Thanks to Darina, I finally learned the art of making a French Omelette. If you love food and care about local food movements, then Darina Allen should be one of your heros.

After Lucy and I enjoyed our comfort food, we went back to the hotel and begged the porter to draw us a map, illustrating the way out of Cork City. We wanted an air-tight plan since getting to the hotel the night before nearly broke us emotionally, at least I was nearly broken. The map did work. This time we only made one wrong turn instead of several and soon we were on the N22 roller coaster towards Killarney. I say roller coaster because this portion of the journey was our introduction to the more narrow, incredibly curvy roads of Ireland. There had been steady, hard rains for the past couple days in Ireland causing flash floods so it was another white knuckle drive as I gripped the dashboard or anything else I could clench with my hands, listening to the side mirrors tap other cars. Aside from the road warrior anxiety, crossing from Cork City to Killarney was a game changer for other reasons. Ireland was already magical, but the magic takes on a whole new meaning in the western half.

A porter's hand drawn map.

Ireland Part One: Dublin's heart & thieves at the cemetery

2013-08-24T15:08:00.000-07:00

I had three days notice I was going to Ireland. My aunt called me on Wednesday evening, July 24, and asked if I would meet her in Dublin on Sunday. Lucy had been traveling in England with a friend who had to return to the states suddenly because her husband was very ill. The next leg of their journey was Ireland; they'd already paid for their accommodations and couldn't get their money back nor did Lucy want to go alone. It took me about three seconds to decide. I hadn't been to Europe since 1992 when I traveled to France as a high school student. International travel, especially to Europe, has become a fantasy for me in recent years. Maybe my interest in Europe is related to food, but I also feel a connection to various countries because of ancestry, language study, and overall I feel like my life has been lacking in two major areas: adventure and love. In my mind, I think I've developed the romantic notion that Europe is where it could all happen. This time I would be going to Ireland and unlike my last trip to France, I wouldn't be wearing a fanny pack and tinted glasses.

Thankfully, I already had a passport. I'd renewed mine in 2010, but hadn't had a reason to use it since. So, of course, after tearing my desk apart looking for it and quickly searching the date of expiration, I nearly broke down in tears. At first glance, I thought the small print stated it had expired in 2010. No, not so, next line down: expiration of 2020. Deep breaths. Early Sunday morning I left Minneapolis, flew to Chicago and boarded an Aer Lingus flight to Dublin.

You'll know when you start walking the streets of Dublin that you're in the presence of literary ghosts. Walking into the setting for many a writer's tale always gives me that spine tingle. Dublin is colorful, alive, modern yet ancient, artistic, and there is food and drink to complement it all. Coming from a family of book lovers, my aunt and I both wanted to visit Trinity College to see the Book of Kells and the Old Library. Being in the presence of such books in their ancient stacks aroused deep feelings of scholarly passion. I wanted everyone in that library to clear out so I could be alone with the books, pouring over them, fingering their covers, and researching with total abandon. However, you could only look, not touch. Walking through St. Stephen's Green afterward helped cool me down and gave us a preview of the greens that were to come later, in the western half of Ireland. More than once we stood with our map open, wondering which direction to head, when Dubliners kindly stopped and asked us if we needed help. It doesn't take long to start falling in love with Ireland and its people.

The food of Dublin is varied, like in any big city where traditional dishes mix with the worldly. Our first night, we ate fish and chips at Leo Burdock, the oldest chipper in Dublin. The hot fish is handed to you wrapped in news print. When you find a spot to squat and and unwrap your present, the fish flakes apart in your fingers and melts in your mouth. Our upscale Dublin dinner the next night was at Dylan McGrath's Fade St. Social which has both a gastro pub and a restaurant. Dylan McGrath is a celebrity chef in Ireland and performs as one of the judges on Ireland's version of Masterchef. We weren't seeking his restaurant on purpose, but stumbled upon Fade Street Social by chance and liked what we read on the menu. An order of tapas from the gastro pub and we were clapping excitedly to ourselves in celebration over our choice. We were spooning dishes of shrimp tempura, sauteed spring cabbage, wild Irish mushrooms, and pumpkin macaroni. It was delicious.

Dublin Pubs

"When I die Dublin will be written in my heart." -James Joyce

The only cloud over my head was the anxiety I felt about the next leg of our journey which was going to be by car. My aunt would be driving and I would be navigating because I don't know how to drive stick (most cars in Ireland are manual for fuel efficiency). I have auto anxiety even in the states, so the thought of our taking to the road in a country where everything is the mirror opposite and round-a-bouting is constant, with my seniorish aunt at the wheel, was already heightening the need for Maalox and muscle relaxers, neither of which I had. A few wrong turns in Dublin, but we did it. I figured out the maps and Lucy shifted gear effortlessly while keeping us in the right "left" lane. Setting off, we were actually feeling pretty confident, maybe overly so, after our two days of navigating Dublin by foot, our mostly painless drive out of the city, and the great rapport we felt with everyone we met. Little did we know what was to come.

Our next destination was the city of Cork, but we decided to include a sojourn that morning to the ruins of Monasterboice, an early monastic community. The ruins include a round tower and the best preserved celtic crosses in Ireland. The site is nestled in rolling green hills, on a one-lane road in the countryside near the town of Drogheda. Monasterboice had at one time been captured by invading Vikings, and as we walked in the drizzling rain amongst the ruins and grave sites in this peaceful place, we were oblivious to the fact that our own belongings were being pillaged and captured at that very moment.

"Your Charity Pray For The Souls Of..." -grave marker at Monasterboice

When we returned to the car, nearly everything was gone. My aunt's larger suitcase remained, but her bags containing her valuables & passport were gone. I had my passport & valuables on me, but all my clothes and incidentals were taken. Panic stricken, we were soon helped by the four older gentlemen who were working in the tourist booth at the cemetery. They called the local garda for us, and two officers were dispatched to take a report and provide assistance. In the end, my aunt's backpack was recovered by a garbage collector who found it tossed on the side of the road; it still had her passport and credit cards inside, which was great luck.

We received wonderful help that day from all the people around us, including the garda. Luckily, one of the officers working our case was a woman who kindly advised me on where I could at least get a new toothbrush and some underwear. After we finished giving reports and collecting Lucy's found backpack, we got back in the car for the long, rainy drive to Cork. It was a difficult drive, both of us having to concentrate that much harder as our minds kept wandering to the theft. Evening was settling in as we came into Cork, the most challenging city to navigate on our entire journey. We didn't have any maps that showed the street our hotel was on and the city itself was made up of a labyrinth of one-way streets, some of which were labeled and some which weren't. In the end, the only thing that saved us from never finding the hotel, was stopping to ask a person for directions. It took a few tries to find someone who was actually from Cork and knew where to go, but we made it. After checking in, we went right to the pub for Jameson, straight and chips. As we reflected on the day, I realized a tiny part of me might have been just a little bit thrilled something exciting had happened. That's not to say I wasn't mourning the loss of my best bras and journals or feeling sad for my aunt's more expensive losses, but it was in fact an adventure.

The Night Carnival

2013-07-19T07:28:00.000-07:00

Goodnight Moon.

The Blueberry Crow's Nest: when the crust flies south

2013-07-18T11:03:00.000-07:00

The Blueberry Crow's Nest was inspired by a recipe I came across in a vintage cookbook, The Lilly Wallace New American Cookbook, published in 1945. When I was looking through it, I found something called an Apple Crow's Nest. After reading the recipe, I realized it was an apple cobbler that had been flipped upside down after baking. I decided to try it with blueberries instead, adding lemon juice and cornstarch. For the crust, I decided to adapt a cornmeal biscuit recipe I found in a cookbook titled Rustic Fruit Desserts by Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson. To adapt their crust, I just omitted the turbinado sugar and installed the dough differently. I love flipping the cobbler upside down to serve because the berries are so dark, shiny, and beautiful. You wouldn't be able to admire them if they were under a crust!

This was also how I used the blueberries from Taylor's Market and I was looking for something I could make and submit to a contest on Food52. Making the Blueberry Crow's Nest is easier than you might think and it was delicious. Great summertime dessert when blueberries are in season.

Blueberry Crow's Nest

Filling

3 1/2 cups fresh blueberries

1/4 cup sugar

1 Tbsp. cornstarch

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. fine sea salt

1 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice

Crust/Nest

1 1/4 cup all-purpose unbleached flour

1/2 cup cornmeal

2 Tbsp. sugar

1 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. fine sea salt

1/2 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

1 cup cold heavy cream

2 tsp. sugar for sprinkling

Fresh whipping cream or ice cream and cinnamon-sugar for serving.

Preheat your oven to 375℉ and place top rack in the middle. Grease an 8 1/2 to 9 inch pie pan with butter (I used a metal pie pan which worked great). Make the filling first. In a medium bowl, whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and sea salt. Add the berries and using your hands, toss until coated. Add the lemon juice and stir it in. Pour the filling into the prepared pie pan and set aside.

For the crust: combine the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and sea salt in a medium bowl and whisk together. Cut up the butter and add it to the mixture. Then, using a pastry blender, a fork, or your fingers, cut the butter into the mix working until the butter cubes are mixed in and broken down into a pea size. Pour in the cream and stir until it's absorbed into the dough and the dough is sticking together.

It's easier to work with this sticky dough in small amounts. Pick up hand-fulls of the dough and flatten them into a biscuit or patty shape and lay them on top of the berry filling in the pie pan. As you lay each disk of dough onto the berries, spread it out a bit. The idea is to top the filling with the dough and spread it around so there are no gaps. You don't need the biscuit shapes to remain after you've laid them on. Once your dough is covering all the berries, sprinkle with the extra 2 tsp. of sugar.

Place the pie pan onto the top rack in the oven with a baking sheet on the rack below to catch the drips. Bake for about 45 min., but start checking it when there are about 5 min. to go. The crust should be golden brown and the juice from the filling is going to be bubbling up from below. When it's ready, take it out and set on a rack to cool for about 10 minutes.

I like to top it with fresh whipped cream, so I would use this time as it's cooling to make the cream or you could serve it with vanilla ice cream. After about 10 min. have gone by, find a serving platter bigger than the pie pan for turning the cobbler upside down. Place the platter upside down over the cobbler and center it. With both hands securely holding the two together, flip them around so the pie pan is now upside down on top of your serving platter. Using a large serving spoon, tap the bottom of the pie pan to loosen the pan from the cobbler and also run the spoon along the crust edge sticking out from under the pie pan. Ease the pie pan off of the cobbler which has now been transformed into a beautiful blueberry crow's nest! Serve warm with the whipping cream or ice cream and sprinkle with a little cinnamon sugar.

Caw!

Would You Like a Tastee-Freez?

2013-07-17T16:37:00.000-07:00

"It happened on the way to the demolition derby" is my killer line this week. After the Taylor's Market tryst, I stumbled upon the oldest Tastee Freez in America. It was in the town of Aledo, IL, just a couple of miles from the Mercer County Fair Grounds, my target destination. It's hard to believe I've found the oldest soda fountain and the oldest Tastee Freez in America within the past month and that both are within an hour's drive of one another. So, I couldn't not stop. The owner's name is Lenny Bowlyou and we visited while I inhaled a pork tenderloin followed up with a rainbow crunch cone. Lenny has owned the Tastee Freez for 23 years, but wants to sell it so he can retire and maybe move to a tropical location. If you'd like to own a classic piece of Americana, then call the number on the sign. One of the responsibilities that comes with the job is learning the names of everyone in town and keeping straight who's related to whom. I fell in love with the ceramic cat and owl interior decor, so if you decide to buy the Tastee Freez, I insist you keep them.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, my cousin's husband was making a demolition derby come-back and that's why I was making this trip. The derby was out-of-this-world-fun! I didn't expect to like it that much, but it turns out that car smashing is a riot. Josh did great until his car caught on fire, and while I know he wasn't pleased with the outcome, it provided some crazy excitement for the rest of us. When my Ford Escort is ready to leave this world, that's how I'm taking it out.

Bees & Berries Cocktail: a forager's reward

2013-07-15T12:04:00.000-07:00

Foraging for black raspberries has become my thing. I have a friend that lets me raid his bushes, but I also find them when I'm out wandering in wooded areas around the Midwest. There's nothing I like better than free berries, especially beautiful dark purple, almost black berries that release a burst of sweet-tartness in your mouth. You will get snagged and stabbed by the thorns of black raspberry bushes, but if you can take it, you'll reap a wonderful delicacy. If you're picking from a bush you have no permission to be picking from then the whole experience is heightened by the danger factor as thoughts of "I really shouldn't be doing this, I could get caught, and just this once" race through your head. Try it at least once in your life.

The dark purple berry is what a black raspberry looks like when it's ripe.

Sadly, the Black Raspberry season is coming to a close. In the past I've used them to make jam and pies, but this year I hadn't picked as many. I didn't want my small bounty and the work I'd done to be all for naught, so I decided to create a forager's cocktail. Using the fruits of your labor to make a delicious summer-time drink is the perfect reward. I was inspired by an old book I'd recently picked up called The How and When: an authoritative reference guide to the origin, use and classification of the world's choicest vintages and spirits. It's a 1945 edition written by Hyman Gale and Gerald F. Marco and published by Marco's of Chicago. My recipe is an original creation, but I did get ideas on possible ingredients from looking at all the classic cocktails curated in this book. I used vodka, but gin would also work great. Simply delicious.

Bees & Berries Cocktail

This recipe makes enough for two half-sized serving glasses.

2 cups of black raspberries (or try using other berries available to you)

1 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

2 spoonfuls of honey

1 cup of sparkling water

1 1/2 jiggers (1.5 oz) of vodka or gin

Ice for the cocktail shaker and serving glass

Crush the berries in a sieve or strainer placed over a bowl or measuring cup. The crushing should produce about 1/3 to 1/2 cup of thick black raspberry juice. Add the lemon juice to the black raspberry juice and mix. Drizzle the spoonfuls of honey on the bottom of your serving glass. In a cocktail shaker filled with ice, add the berry juice, the sparkling water, and the liquor. Shake well and strain into your serving glass, but only fill half way. Mix the honey in with the liquids and then add ice. Add a slice of lemon to the glass for decoration, or to squeeze in for added tartness.

Salud!

Ramble Map: Always Brake for Open Air Markets

2013-07-14T22:04:00.002-07:00

Headed to a demolition derby nearly five counties away, I cruised down the road with one hand as plum juice ran down the other. I was taking bites from the fruit I'd just bought and thinking about the art of driving unconventional routes. There's an art to driving fast and furious in races, there's an art to driving with efficiency from point A to point B, there's an art to driving with one hand while you have a plum in the other, and there's most certainly an art to driving slowly with wild abandon for the least direct route.

At that moment, I was savoring the art of driving slowly as an explorer of uncharted waters of the least possible direct route. If I'd been another drone on the interstate, I'd never have found that plum. If I hadn't been a slow cruiser with no plan other than eventually getting to the Mercer County Fairgrounds, I also might not have found that juicy plum. You see, I'd already made a turn from a county road onto a four lane highway without noticing at the stop sign that there was a beautiful open air produce stand on my left. As I slowly rambled onto the highway amidst zipping cars, I happened to look over and I saw what I'd just absent-mindley passed. Of course I turned the Ford Escort right back around and had a look-see.

Taylor's Market has been around since 1980 and carries a variety of Midwestern produce, along with a small selection of preserves. Listening in to conversation, I overheard the woman at the counter talking about her father who owned the market. She said he was getting older and there was some question or concern for who would want to take over. The woman was hoping her son might be interested, but wasn't sure. She herself had been working there for more than 20 years. Businesses in need of someone to take over was a recurring theme in this jaunt as I found out later at the country's oldest Tastee Freez. Hopefully someone will step in to carry on these local legacies.

Why in the Sam Hill was I headed to a demolition derby five counties away? My cousin's husband was making a big come-back in demolition driving and I didn't want to miss it. I may share some pics from the derby/county fair a bit later and I'll also have to share about Lenny and the oldest Tastee Freez in the United States.

So, it wasn't just a plum that came out of the Taylor's Market stop. I also bought two pints of Michigan blueberries, a brown bag of red potatoes, a nectarine, a banana pepper, and a jar of sorghum molasses. The berries are amazing...big, plump, full of flavor, and much cheaper than in any store. The molasses I'll save for some fall/winter baking.

Note: Taylor's Market is located right off of Highway 61 between Muscatine and Davenport, IA.

This is what I made with some of the potatoes. Slice them and toss in a skillet with olive oil, fresh ground pepper, and kosher salt. Let them cook until brown and add sliced mushrooms, green pepper, onion, and fresh parsley. Zip it up with some hot sauce if you like. Easy and tasty.

Bastille Day

2013-07-14T17:46:00.001-07:00

Treat yourself to a store bought French pastry and reflect on the French Revolution as you thumb through classic French cookbooks while watching Les Misérables. Vive la France!

Betty's Seductive Macaroni Salad

2013-07-05T17:10:00.000-07:00

Back in the day, when I was a twenty-something in Seattle, I occasionally got homesick for certain things. One of them was macaroni salad. It wasn't a staple on our table growing up, but it was always in the creamy salad lineup at picnics and potlucks. I was usually the one spooning a heaping mound onto a paper plate that gave way onto the ground. Sloppy with mayonnaise, chunks of cheddar, sometimes chunks of ham, and peas for a hint of green, it was not the poster child of healthy salads. For me, it was the mix of tangy mayo with the sharpness of cheddar that tripped my taste buds.

When I'd start pining for macaroni salad, my best friend Lydia, also a closet mac salad junkie, would go shopping with me and we'd try to track it down in Seattle grocery stores. It wasn't hard to find, turns out macaroni salad is a deli staple with national appeal. After careful taste testing and research, we decided Larry's Market had the best macaroni salad in Seattle. They didn't go overboard with the mayo and more importantly, they didn't leave out the cheddar. As is the way though, Larry's Market closed some years ago, so I can't tell you who has the best macaroni salad in Seattle these days.

The good news is, you don't have to go searching because you can make it for yourself and in doing so, you have complete control over the cheddar and mayo. When I was looking through all my old cookbooks, a recipe for Summer Macaroni Salad in the 1967 Betty Crocker's Outdoor Cookbook caught my eye. They referred to it as "a man-pleaser salad." Hmmm, the picnic salad I've always lusted after was once marketed as a way for women to seduce men at a barbecue. This makes sense to me, but I'm not comfortable with the implied sexism. This salad should be an equal opportunity instrument of seduction. Therefore, I'm reintroducing this version as a way to score with anyone at a picnic. I'm also reintroducing it with some updated flavors. If Betty Crocker had been a real person alive today, I'd like to think she'd have a thing for Sriracha.

Betty's Seductive Macaroni Salad

This salad is best made a day ahead. It gives the flavors a chance to meld. It's 100 percent my own concoction, and I have to say the lemon juice & Sriracha are key.

2 cups uncooked macaroni

6 strips of bacon

3/4 cup chopped onion

3/4 cup chopped radishes

1 10 oz. package frozen peas

3/4 cup chopped red bell pepper

1/2 cup minced fresh parsley

1 cup cubed sharp cheddar cheese

2 hard-cooked eggs chopped

1 cup sweet relish (preferably all-natural)

3/4 cup Lemonaise or mayonnaise (see notes)

1 1/2 Tbsp of Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce

1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice

2 tsp. kosher salt

fresh ground pepper to taste

Cook the macaroni according to the package, preferably until it's al dente so that your pasta isn't too squishy. When it's done, drain it and rinse under cold water. Cook the bacon strips until they're crispy, lay them on a paper towel-lined plate to absorb the excess grease. Cook the peas according to the package, but really watch them and maybe even cook them for a shorter time than the package recommends because you'll want them to be firm in the salad. When they're ready, pull them off the stove, drain and rinse under cold water, like you did with the macaroni.

Combine the macaroni and peas in a large serving bowl. Chop the onion, radishes, bell pepper, parlsey, eggs, and cheese and add them to the serving bowl as you go. Break up the bacon strips into small pieces and add to the bowl. Combine everything as you add each ingredient.

Add the sweet relish and stir it in. Add the Lemonaise or mayo and mix it in well. If you'd prefer a creamier salad, then add an extra 1/4 cup of mayo. Personal preference reigns. Here's where things get crazy. You're going to kick up the flavor with some Sriracha. Like the mayo/Lemonaise, it's a matter of personal preference. I listed the amounts that I prefer, but if you don't like it as spicy, then start with a smaller amount and taste as you go. Finally, add the lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Mix everything completely. Serve or cover and store in refrigerator to be served the next day.

Notes: Lemonaise is a natural mayonnaise without any preservatives in it and it has a nice lemon flavor. I stumbled onto it some years ago at my local food c0-op. I think it's a little healthier than regular mayo, but it's not available at every store and it's a little more expensive. Just an option.

I also chose to use an all-natural sweet relish because in reading labels, I found that most bottled relishes have high fructose corn syrup in them. There are some ways of making this salad healthier than Betty's old school version.

Seduce.

Soda Fountains, Boiled Ham, & Sanka

2013-06-30T09:14:00.000-07:00

"Tavia Tindall" was here 2013

Well, if it's good enough for Brooke Shields, then it's good enough for me. The Wilton Candy Kitchen is the almost mythical soda fountain my cousins from Texas speak of every time they see me. Fred and Aleta come up every year from Port Arthur, Tx to visit our elderly aunts and to take them for drives around the Illinois/Iowa countryside. Visiting the soda fountain has become a regular pilgrimage in their roaming. They can never seem to figure out why I haven't experienced "the oldest ongoing ice cream parlor/soda fountain/confectionary in the world" that's 30 min. down the road from where I live.

Hoping to find this beloved treasure, I motored down historic Highway 6 to the town of Wilton, IA, pop. 2,807. If you get lost in Wilton or can't find the soda fountain, then I have no hope for you and maybe you shouldn't be driving. It's run by George and Thelma Nopoulos and has been in the Nopoulos family since 1910, but it was established in 1860. More facts and history are available here.

George is 93 and Thelma is in her 80s. Thelma told me they've been married for 63 years and that she and George met when they were working behind the soda fountain. She is adamant they be photographed together as a symbol of their love and devotion. Thelma didn't want anyone taking individual photographs of herself or George. They reminded me of the elder couples in the love story vignettes from the movie When Harry Met Sally.

George and Thelma, along with the atmosphere, are part of the experience. The other part of course is the food. It's rare to see a "boiled ham & cheese" sandwich listed on a menu and equally rare to see Sanka listed as a beverage. I ordered both. Thelma looked at me with confusion when I said "Sanka."

Thelma: What did you say dear? Me: Sanka, I'd like some Sanka to drink. Thelma: We haven't had Sanka on the menu in years. Me: Oh, okay.

George and Thelma probably don't look at the menu much when the only real change in 60 years has been Sanka. Why in the Sam Hill was I trying to order Sanka you ask? Sometimes I prefer novelty over taste. Also, I had envisioned the possibility of using the Sanka as a sort of au jus for the boiled ham & cheese. I ordered a chocolate malt instead.

When Thelma isn't looking, George likes to grab a spoon and stick it into the ice cream vats behind the counter for a taste. He winked at me and said "quality control." No worries, I'm pretty sure he gets a clean spoon each time. A customer sitting next to me ordered one of the Greek Super Sundaes, which are Greek because George plants a Greek toothpick flag along with an American toothpick flag onto the top of the sundae. Yes, that's right, both George and Thelma are descendants of proud Greek families. A Greek flag sticking out of your ice cream is pretty novel so that's what I'll order next time. My cousins are right. George, Thelma, and their ice cream are worth the trip.

It's been a challenge to figure out when to use what camera depending on the situation (I have two choices). All of these pics were taken with my smart phone, but some turned out blurry. Oopsie. Stay tuned for more soda fountain action. July is National Ice Cream Month.

Rhubarb Pudding: a creamy cake

2013-06-27T16:46:00.000-07:00

Rhubarb love fest 2013 continues this week. If you know my family, then it's not a surprise I'm trying to extend the rhubarb season as much as possible. When my grandma died ten years ago, most of her eulogy was about rhubarb. Grandma Harriet's love for this red celery-like fruit/veggie surpassed anyone else's claim of affection for the red stalk. In other words, my grandma loved rhubarb more than yours. As a rhubarb ambassador, she desperately wanted the world to taste rhubarb and love it, and set out to grow it, and promote it everywhere she went. For example, she was known to do things like invite perfect strangers at Mr. B's Grocery to stop by her house for free rhubarb, give them directions, and then have it bagged and ready for them as soon as they pulled up. Not really an exaggeration.

I'm not sure what drove her to be so outgoing where rhubarb was concerned, but I can only guess she couldn't stand to see it wasted. She loved the taste and believed in it. Watching her advocate for one of the most celebrated/despised foods to come out of the ground, elevated it to superstar status in my mind. It's all I think about when Spring rolls around. Some people absolutely hate rhubarb and scrunch their face up at the mere mention. I guess they can't stand the jolt of the tartness, but it gives me a food high. The tart burst of rhubarb is perfect for cloaking in something like the sweetness of cream. Here's a recipe that does it nicely and I know Grandma Harriet would've spooned the dish over this one. It's also adapted from the Town Crier Recipe Book featured in the post about Spring Fling Pie.

Rhubarb Pudding: a creamy cake
(Obviously not a creamy pudding to eat with a spoon, but rather a creamy cake, topped with fresh cream.)

2 cups diced rhubarb

1 cup sour cream

1 cup sugar

1 egg beaten

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 tsp. baking soda

fresh whipped cream

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees. Grease an 8 x 8 baking pan or dish. In a medium bowl, combine the sour cream, sugar, and the beaten egg. Add the rhubarb and stir it in. Measure the flour and baking soda into a sifter and sift over a separate bowl. Add the sifted flour and baking soda to the wet mixture. Stir until you can't see any more dry flour.

Pour the mixture into your greased baking pan and bake for about 30 min. Insert a toothpick into the middle, if it comes out clean you're good to go. The top will be a nice golden brown.

Cut into squares and serve warm with fresh whipped cream.

Enjoy.

An Iowa Farm in Pictures

2013-06-25T16:09:00.000-07:00

Spring Fling Pie (strawberry & rhubarb mate with pineapple & banana)

2013-06-25T07:37:00.000-07:00

I realize writing about a spring pie four days into the summer season is nothing short of seasonal sacrilege, but the spring fruit is still here and I’m a rhubarb, strawberry junkie. The beauty of the Spring Fling Pie is it invites some tropical friends to join the Midwest party and all of a sudden reds and yellows are having a seasonal tryst in your pie plate. Banana, pineapple, strawberry, and rhubarb make wonderful bedfellows.

This is a pie I made and took to my friend Catharine's farm for a potluck gathering to celebrate summer, animals, and life in general. It was a hot day, with temps in the 90s, so a fruit pie was the way to go because it can stand up to the heat. And it did stand up, until everyone ate it. It turns out having a Spring Fling at a summer party was acceptable.

The idea for this pie came from a 1938 cookbook titled Town Crier Recipe Book: 300 Lucky Low Cost Prize Winning Recipes. The cookbook endorsed Town Crier Family Flour made by The Midland Flour Milling Co. of Kansas City, Missouri. I haven't been able to determine what happened to the Midland Flour Milling Co, though I suspect it's long since gone out of business. I've sent an email of inquiry to the Missouri Historical Society and will wait to see if they can shed some light. I was paging through the book and found a recipe called Spring Medley Fruit Pie which offered the idea of changing up the usual strawberry-rhubarb combo. I adapted it by cutting the sugar in half and used my preferred recipe for Cook's Illustrated's Foolproof Pie Dough.

Spring Fling Pie

Don't worry about dicing your fruit into small pieces.

In fact, I'd say I cut mine into chunks. I prefer the

aesthetics of larger cuts and keep in mind that fruit

will shrink during baking.

Pie dough for a double crust (recipe here)

1 1/2 cups diced strawberries

1 1/2 cups died rhubarb

1 1/2 cups diced fresh pineapple

1 diced banana

1/2 cup flour

2 Tbsp. cornstarch

1 cup, plus 1 Tbsp. sugar

1 Tbsp. butter

1 egg white

After making and refrigerating the dough, take one disk out of the fridge and roll it out on your generously floured work surface. Don't skimp on the flour or your dough is going to stick to the surface and the rolling pin. Roll the dough into a 12 inch circle and then gently fold that circle over your rolling pin and lift the dough into a 9-inch pie plate. Straighten out the dough gingerly and press it down into the plate. Leave the dough overhanging the plate and stick it in fridge to get firm, about 30 min.

Adjust oven rack to lowest position, place a rimmed baking sheet on the oven rack, and preheat the oven to 425 degrees. While the dough chills and the oven heats, clean and cut up the fruit, measuring it into a medium mixing bowl. In a separate bowl, measure and mix the flour, starch, and sugar thoroughly. Set both bowls aside.

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Pull out the other disk of refrigerated dough and roll out into a 15 x 11 inch rectangle. Using a pizza wheel, fluted pastry wheel, or pairing knife trim off uneven edges, then cut the rectangle lengthwise into 8 strips. Gently pick up the strips and lay them on the baking sheet. Put the baking sheet into the freezer to firm up the strips, about 20 min.

Pull the dough lined pie plate out of the fridge. Spread 1/4 of the flour, starch, & sugar mix in the bottom of the dough lined plate. Thoroughly combine the remaining flour, starch & sugar mix with the fruit. Pour the fruit filling into the pie plate. Cube the butter into small pieces and dot the filling with the butter.

Remove the pie strips from the freezer and if they're really stiff, let them sit at room temp until they soften a bit, but are still cold.

Now, you may think a lattice top pie is too difficult or that you can't do it, but you can. The first time I tried making a lattice top, I didn't realize you were supposed to weave the strips and just laid them out in a grid, but it was fine! If weaving the strips seems too much, then layer them. Either way, you're going to want four strips going across the pie one way and the other four strips laying perpendicular. Weave, don't weave, no biggie. This dough is extremely easy to bend, move, and repair.

After the strips are on the pie however you want them, trim off the excess ends, fold the dough rim of the shell up over the lattice strips and crimp with your fingers or a fork.

Next, grab a pastry brush or a smallish unused paint brush. Crack open your egg and separate the yolk from the whites. Use the brush to paint the egg white onto the top of your pie, coat the strips and the edge until they're glistening. Use the remaining Tablespoon of sugar to sprinkle over the dough, the sugar will stick to the wet egg white.

Take out the pre-baked rimmed baking sheet, set your pie on the sheet and put it into the oven to bake at 425 degrees until the top is light golden brown, about 20 to 25 min.

Then reduce the oven temp to 375 degrees, rotate the baking sheet and continue baking until the crust is deep gold brown, about 25 to 30 min. Pull the pie out and set it on a wire rack to cool for an hour or two.

Note: After reducing the oven temp to 375, I usually place a metal pie ring over the pie's edges to prevent it from getting too brown. If you don't have one of those and you think the edge is browning more than you'd like, just use tinfoil and place it around the edges. It's always important to keep an eye on your pie while it's baking. Ovens vary a great deal, so what cooks faster in your oven, may cook slower in mine. Baking times should be regarded as a suggestion.

Enjoy.

Pies are what got me into baking. There’s much I can say about my failures and successes, and stories to go with, but that’ll be a post for another day.

Beginning

2013-06-21T06:18:00.002-07:00

It’s time. I’ve talked about doing this project for years and obsessed throughout all that time over names, blog platforms, header designs, content ideas, and scope. All the friends and family I’ve cornered with my blog talk are by now thinking or have actually said, "For the love of god, please stop talking about your non-existent blog and start it."

So, here is Spooning the Dish, a food blog. The name is about the excitement of eating, like when amazing food possesses you and as manners are cast aside, your spoon takes on a life of its own (my downfall from time to time). It’s also in reference to great conversation. The best conversations I’ve had in life, the best storytelling I’ve heard or shared has always happened at the table.

Most of the cooking and baking I’ll present here is based on vintage recipes from my large collection of cooking pamphlets, cookbooks, and found recipe cards. I do a ton of scavenging in junk shops.

Seeing as how I’m a Midwesterner, I also hope to document some of the regional food culture. It’s kind of a secret, but there are some great eats in between the coasts.

I’m hoping Spooning the Dish will offer some laughs, some noteworthy food, interesting photography, and good stories. If you want to know more, click on About.

Cheers.