The Everyday Epicurean

Memorial Day Show of Patriotism: Red, White, and Blue Salad

Liz — Wed, 23 May 2012 17:19:37 +0000

In the word association game, if you said “patriotic holidays,” I’d respond with “Old Navy.” When I was younger, Old Navy made t-shirts every summer that had American flags with “Summer 19xx” scripted beneath the waving flag. The shirts were sold throughout the summer, so your kids could be patriotically attired from Memorial Day to July 4^th on to Labor Day.

Most summers, my extended family takes a vacation together. We’re a small family, but the five grandchildren are within five years of each other. When you have five kids between the ages of, say, eight and thirteen in close quarters for a week, it is easy to think there are far more than five cranky, screaming preteens in your midst. But my grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, were somehow able to mentally and emotionally survive the experiences year after year. Whenever the vacations fell during the Memorial Day or July 4^th, all five of us were bedecked in matching Old Navy American flag t-shirts.

Those days were no one’s best fashion moments. Personally, I’m happy to forget pictures of me in inches-thick glasses, my brother’s hand-me-down soccer shorts, and one of those shirts. But they are wonderful memories with my grandparents and cousins. Not to reminisce too much as a 22-year-old, but life does speed up when you get older, and it has now been three years since we were all together.

This week, however, all together, we have celebrated my younger cousin’s college graduation, and this weekend, we will celebrate his older brother’s wedding. While no one will be wearing Old Navy tees and everyone will, hopefully, be much less feisty than during our childhood vacations, we will be together again for Memorial Day. And it is always a blessing to make new memories with the whole family together.

For a slightly more fashionable display of patriotism this weekend, always opt for food:

Red, White, and Blue Salad
Courtesy of my mother

1 cup slivered almonds
7 tbs sugar, divided
1 tsp salt
¼ tsp Tobasco
3 tbs white wine vinegar
½ cup olive oil
8 cups salad
½ pint blueberries
1 cup sliced strawberries
6 oz. crumbled feta cheese

In a cast iron skillet over high heat, cook almonds and 4 tablespoons sugar, stirring constantly. When almonds are coated in syrup and light brown, remove from skillet and place on a piece of aluminum foil. Once cool, break into small pieces.

In a measuring cup, combine remaining 3 tablespoons sugar, salt, Tobasco, vinegar, and oil. Whisk to combine.

Add all salad ingredients to a salad bowl, add salad dressing, and toss.

Transitioning Away from Deliciously Bad Mexican Food: Mango-Pear Guacamole

Liz — Wed, 16 May 2012 20:04:23 +0000

There is a direct correlation between a Southern town’s size and the number of cheap Mexican restaurants within its city limits. I know this could probably be said about all restaurants or, for that matter, other service industry establishments. But Mexican restaurants are different. In the case of, say, a French restaurant, you want a very nice establishment with a well-trained chef and white tablecloths and a full wine list. This establishment can almost exclusively be enjoyed in a larger town.

For someone who grew up in a small town, however, the quality of a Mexican restaurant has little to do with the food. A cheap Mexican place invariably has cheap vinyl booths in a odd color. The chips are too salty, and the salsa a little watery. But it’s the place you eat with your friends, and you stay for hours. You love the food, no matter how much grease is pooling in the middle of the enchilada’s cheese or how many rumors you’ve heard of rats in the kitchen. For small town Southerners, Mexican restaurants are judged by their character, not their quality.

In the town where I grew up, there were two such places. At college, a place almost entirely populated by people related to tiny University, there was one glorious place. My favorite memories with my friends in high school and college were spent at these places whose names even fit their stereotype: Los Mex and Mi Casa. Hours stuck in those cracked vinyl booths. Hours spent crying and laughing with my friends over gallons of queso, too many overly sweetened margaritas, karaoke, waiters that knew us far too well, and truly enjoyable, bad food.

Here, in New Orleans, there are more Mexican joints than I care to keep track of. There’s one that specializes in burritos. Burritos. But none of them have filled my cheap Mexican food cravings. And in New York, well, I try not to think about the fancy Mexican food I’ll have to switch to. To avoid crying into my margarita once I’m in the foreignland, I’m just trying to prepare myself for a finer level of South of the Border dining. With the help of homemade, fancier-than-I-am-used-to Mexican food, I’ve been trying to ease myself into a slow transition to make the experience less painful.

Mango-Pear Guacomole
Adapted from a recipe by Patricio Sandoval

3 Hass avocados, cut into ½-inch dice
1 plum tomato, seeded and diced
½ small onion, diced
2 ripe mangos, finely diced
1 Asian pear, finally diced3 tbs finely chopped cilantro
1 medium chipotle in adoba, minced
1 small jalapeno, seeded and minced
2 tbs lemon juice
kosher salt

In a large bowl, use a fork to gently stir together all the ingredients except for the salt. Once the ingredients are combined, season with salt to taste and serve.

Preparing to Leave: Roasted Corn with Lime and Manchego

Liz — Wed, 09 May 2012 18:38:15 +0000

I’m not scared to move to New York. I’m just a little confused. Compared to anywhere else I have lived, New York is breathtakingly, mind-numbingly massive. It’s like watching a newborn child for a few hours compared to interacting with Shaq. The newborn sleeps peacefully, blissfully, until it’s time to be fed; and then, you feed it. All the tyke needs is a good swaddle to be happy again. But then you have Shaq. While I’ve never played host to him, I feel like his very presence would make me feel uncomfortable, like I have to be doing something at all times to make this large creature happy. It’s not that a newborn is better than a giant basketball player; it’s that the idea of one is much less confusing.

Every time I find an apartment listing that is within my price range, I get the urge to tape the dimensions onto the floor of my current apartment. As someone who might not have a bedroom in a few months – rather, a bed located closely to the stove, I need to rework my introverted reaction to problems that end in me retreating to my bed.

I’m not the only one who will have to make confusing adjustments, so I’ve been considering breaking Sophie, my cat, in for the move by buying her a leash and harness. Bringing a leash trained cat to New York seems slightly more humane than forcing her to spend the next two years using a small window as her only access to the outdoors. When Sophie gets upset, she stares angrily while slowly twisting her head nearly halfway around and meowing; she looks like she could star in the cat version of The Exorcist. I can only imagine what two years inside would make her do.

I also have this nagging idea that I will never again eat fresh vegetables. I know the state of New York has agriculture. I also know I’m moving closer to much of America’s farmland. But I’m probably waving goodbye to okra and greens for many months. So I just keep overeating vegetables. This will be a staple until I have to bid farewell to sweet Alabama corn.

Roasted Corn with Manchego and Lime
From Epicurious
Serves 8

6 ears of sweet, yellow corn, unhusked
2 tbs olive oil
2 tbs unsalted butter
Kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 jalapeño, seeded, finely diced
½ tsp crushed red pepper flakes
1 lime, halved
1 cup finely grated Manchego cheese
¼ cup thinly sliced chives
2 teaspoons finely grated lime zest

Preheat oven to 450°. Roast corn on a baking sheet, turning occasionally, until heated through, about 15 minutes. Shuck corn and cut kernels from the cobs.

Heat oil in a large skillet over high heat. Add kernels and sauté until heated through and light golden, about 3-5 minutes. Add butter and stir to melt.

Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer corn to a large wide bowl. Sprinkle with jalapeno and crushed red pepper flakes. Squeeze limes over, evenly spreading the lime juice. Sprinkle with cheese, lime zest, and chives. Stir to combine and serve immediately.

Crawfish Monica: In the Season of Jazz Fest and Gift Giving

Liz — Fri, 04 May 2012 17:37:52 +0000

I have always really liked listening to DJs on the radio. The ones who talk much more than they play music and have obnoxious laughs that bubble through the speakers and who are generally disliked by their listening audiences. I was listening to one such afternoon program on Tuesday. Between songs or, more likely, commercials, the DJs aired clips from Mark Zuckerberg’s announcement that Facebook was getting an organ-donation option.

In the press conference, Zuckerberg talked about how his girlfriend, a pediatrician, would frequently come home from work sad because she was watching her young patients suffer. But occasionally, she’d come home ecstatic because a child had received an organ transplant. And so Zuckerberg wanted to use Facebook as a way to continue to make his girlfriend happy.

I think this is an amazing move on Facebook’s part – California had 1117 new organ donors sign up via Facebook in the first day! Still, there is something incredibly funny in the idea that this was a billionaire’s thoughtful gift for his girlfriend. No casual surprise of spring flowers for that girl – nope, she gets a dramatic upshot in the ability to save her patients’ lives.

Because it is Jazz Fest time down in New Orleans, Zuckerberg’s kind gesture reminded me of another thoughtful – and more relatable – move. Crawfish Monica is a standard at the music festival. If you want to find the spicy, creamy crawfish laden pasta dish, just look for the food booth with the longest line. Thirty years ago, Pierre Hilzim, the chef of Kajun Kettle Foods, created this gem for Jazz Fest and named in after Monica Hilzim, his wife. And then he trademarked the name and the coveted recipe is kept secret. Now, that is a nice gift.

If anyone feels inspired to create a delicious new dish in my honor, just let me know! My parents gave me four names, so you even have a few options when you are pondering what to call that dish. Until I get that phone call, though, I’ll be enjoying the end of Jazz Fest and eating Crawfish Monica. And then whipping up the knock-off version.

Crawfish Monica
…or a knock-off version of the secret recipe
Serves 4

1 lb. crawfish tails, boiled and peeled**
1 stick butter
1 pint half-and-half
5 garlic cloves
1 bunch green onions
1-2 tbs Creole Seasoning
1 lb. pasta (rotini works well)

Cook pasta in boiling, salted water. Drain and then rinse in cool water. Drain again.

In a stockpot, melt the butter. Add garlic and green onions and sauté for 3 minutes. Add the crawfish and sauté for 2 minutes. Add the half-and-half, then add Creole seasoning by large pinches. Stir the pot and taste the sauce before adding more seasoning.

Cook for 5-10 minutes over medium heat until the sauce thickens. Add the pasta and toss well. Let it sit for 10 minutes over low heat, stirring often. Serve immediately.

**If you cannot get crawfish in your area, a pound of shrimp, lump crabmeat, or quartered oysters will work equally well.

When Veggies Play Dress-up: Roasted Cauliflower with Lemon-Herb Dressing

Liz — Wed, 02 May 2012 17:32:57 +0000

My boyfriend once told me that he’d break up with me if I ever became a vegetarian. This was not a carnivorous admission of a meat-free phobia, nor was it a revealing statement that opened the windows into the mind of a strange diet-tyrant.

It was actually an indicator of my embarrassingly exuberant love of processed and cured meats. Apparently if I ever found it within myself to forgo sausage and bacon and prosciutto, it would mean that some core tenet of my being had changed.

He was, for the most part, joking, but he had hit upon a very true chord. I will eat and enjoy any vegetables. But I believe in the statement, “Bacon makes everything better,” in the same fervent way I once believed Santa Clause needed those cookies if he was going to finish his long Christmas Eve journey: there’s no rationale behind it, but it is undeniably, unequivocally true.

On occasion, however, something comes along that shakes those adamant certainties, even if just for a second. Just like the Christmas morning where Rudolph’s ink-stamped autograph looked suspiciously like the paw print of my pet beagle, this roasted cauliflower dish briefly forced the idea that maybe I don’t need any alligator sausage in my life. (This was very brief, of course). When roasted in slices, rather than florets, cauliflower gains a strange meaty quality. It becomes substantial and hearty, rather than delicate. And with a tangy lemon-herb mixture poured on top, it’s absolutely delicious.

Roasted Cauliflower and Herb Sauce
From The Meaning of Pie
Serves 4

1 head of cauliflower
2 tbs olive oil
¼ tsp kosher salt
½ cup mixed fresh herbs (I used what was already in my fridge: basil, oregano, and sage)
1 ½ tbs lemon juice
¼ cup olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 425°. Rinse the cauliflower head and cut the stem section to remove the leaves and much of the stem; you want to get the green stem as short as possible while leaving the florets entirely intact.

Place the head of cauliflower in a pie dish and rub the 2 tablespoons of olive oil onto the surface. Sprinkle the salt on top. Place the dish in the oven to roast for 1 hour and 15 minutes. Check at 1 hour, and if the head is browning too much, cover it with tin foil for the remainder of the cooking time.

While the cauliflower is roasting, finely chop the herbs. If you’re into saving on the dish washing, add the lemon juice and herbs to the measuring cup that is holding your olive oil. Use a whisk to fully combine the dressing.

Let the finished cauliflower sit for a few minutes, then pour the lemon-herb dressing over it. Cut the head into wedges, like a pie, and serve immediately.

A Perfect Picnic Dessert: the Most Chocolatey Brownies

Liz — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 21:32:03 +0000

In my persistent and very dedicated search for the perfect bite of chocolate, I’ve found only one constant: the brownie.

Nearly every brownie holds a delicious bite of chocolate and sugar that is craved in the dead of winter when you can put hot chocolate sauce on top or when pulled, sun-warmed, from a picnic basket in the summer.

Three years ago, I found this brownie recipe, and I’ve never made another since. I don’t remember how I found it, but the title gives me a very good, but embarrassing guess to the answer. I probably searched, simply, for “chocolatiest,” and got these heavenly creations: The World’s Chocolatiest Brownies.”

With the rising temperatures, I wanted to share a recipe that is can be a standard treat throughout the summer.

World’s Chocolatiest Brownies
From a recipe on Big Oven
Makes 16 brownies

¾ cup sugar
¾ cup butter (a stick and a half)
2 tbs water
2 cups chocolate chips, divided
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
¾ cup flour
½ tsp salt
¼ tsp baking soda

Preheat oven to 325°.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, salt, and baking soda. Set aside.

In a saucepan, over medium heat, bring sugar, butter, and water to a boil, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and stir in 1-cup chips and the vanilla. Stir still smooth. Cool 5 minutes. Beat in eggs one at a time until well mixed. Add flour mixture and combine. Reserve a handful of chips, and then add the remainder of the 1 cup and combine quickly so that they do not completely melt.

Pour mixture into a greased 8×8 square pan. Sprinkle the reserved handful of chocolate chips on top.

Bake for 35 minutes. Cool completely.

When Life Isn’t a Picnic, Pizza Helps with Hard Decisions

Liz — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 18:10:42 +0000

When I was 15, my dad gave me my first Hemingway book saying, “He made me realize writing doesn’t need to be fancy. It can be simple and be good.” Like my father, I fell in love with Hemingway’s journalistic style of writing. Without auxiliary language, Hemingway constructed a clean novel. The simplicity of his sentences conveys more than what is on the page. The words evoke emotions that are tangible and relatable, even when the scene is far from familiar.

His work made me want to write, and I quickly realized I wanted to write for magazines. I wanted to construct words into that precise and perfect order that creates the exact message I want – both on the page and emotionally for the reader. I am drawn to magazines because they are an incredible forum for this. Those glossy publications are not simply a source of hard facts; they provide meticulously edited essays, profiles, and personal stories that are all coupled with beautiful photographs. The reading experience is sensory and intriguing, whether the actual article is of interest or not.

I have spent the last eight months drowning in the Journalism graduate school application process. The process culminated in a choice between my top two schools. As someone who hates making massive life-altering decisions, I decided there was a better way to look at it: through pizza.

On one hand, I had Chicago. Deep-dish and totally unique. It’s ready to hold oodles of toppings on its substantial surface, but sometimes that tradition of pizza just doesn’t taste quite right.

On the other hand, there was New York. Exciting, massive, and ever changing. But everyone goes for the New York style – is it more exciting to go a different route.

I finally put my deposit down for the latter option. That New York Style pizza, which is the neo-Neapolitan variety served at most national pizza chains, is ready to be covered in whatever toppings you want and enjoyed exactly how and when you want it. It is a quirky pizza, the way the tip of every slice starts to droop, but it is always delicious.

New York-style Sauce and Cheese Pizza
From Peter Reinhart’s The American Pie
Makes one 12-inch pizza

1 New York-Style Pizza Dough Ball, recipe follows
Cornmeal
¼ pound mozzarella cheese, coarsely grated
¼ cup freshly grated Pecorino
¼ cup coarsely grated medium-sharp Cheddar
¼ tsp dried oregano
¼ tsp dried basil
⅛ tsp freshly ground black pepper
½ tsp granulated garlic powder
⅔ cup All-Purpose Marinara Pizza Sauce, recipe follows

Place a baking stone on the middle shelf of the oven and preheat at 500° for at least one hour. Flour the backs of your hands. Begin to shape the dough by placing it on your floured hands. Use your knuckles to gently stretch the dough, only stretching from the edges, not from the center. Rotate the dough a few inches and repeat. Continue this process until the dough is ¼ inch thick and has a 12-inch diameter. Lay the dough on a cornmeal-dusted dough peel or inverted sheet pan.

In a bowl, stir together the cheese, oregano, basil, pepper, and garlic powder. Spread the tomato sauce evenly over the dough, leaving a ¼-inch border uncovered. Spread the cheese mixture evenly over the pizza.

Carefully slide the pizza from the peel onto the baking stone. Bake for about 12 minutes, or until the dough is crisp and slightly charred on the edge and the cheese is fully melted and beginning to caramelize.

New York-Style Pizza Dough
Makes three 12-ounce dough balls

5 cups bread flour
1 ½ tbs sugar
3 ½ tsp kosher salt
1 ½ tsp instant yeast
3 tbs olive oil
1 ¾ cups room-temperature water

Combine all ingredients in the bowl of an electric mixer. Fit mixer with dough hook, and mix on low speed for 4 minutes. Let the dough rest for 5 minutes, then mix again on medium-low speed for another 2 minutes; the dough should clear the sides of the bowl and stick just a little to the bottom. If the dough is too soft and sticky to hold it’s shape, add flour by the tablespoonful; if dough is too dry or stiff, add water by the tablespoonful.

Divide dough into 3 equal pieces. Round each piece into a ball and rub with olive oil. Place each in its own Ziploc bag. If you plan to use the dough later that day, let dough balls sit at room temperature in the bags for one hour, remove them from the bags, punch them down, reshape them into balls, return to the bags, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. If you are making the pizzas the following day or later, let the dough balls sit at room temperature for 15 minutes, then put them in the refrigerator overnight or freeze the ones that will be used even later.

Remove the dough balls from the refrigerator 2 hours before you plan to roll them out.

All-Purpose Marinara Pizza Sauce
Makes about 6 cups, so plan to have more pizza or pasta dish later in the week!

1 28-oz. can tomato puree
1 ¾ cups water
1 tbs dried parsley
2 tsp dried basil
1 tsp dried oregano
½ tsp dried thyme
½ tsp dried marjoram (optional)
¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper
2 tbs granulated garlic powder
¼ cup red wine vinegar
1 ½ tsp salt, or to taste

In a bowl, stir together all ingredients, starting with ½ teaspoon salt and adding more to taste. Store in a tightly covered container in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.

Italian Sausage Stuffed Peppers for Summer Grilling

Liz — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 20:12:15 +0000

In the spring of 1997, Comet Hale-Bopp brightened Northern Hemisphere skies. I was seven years old, in the 2^nd grade, and fascinated. It was the celestial sketch that kids my age drew in paintings during art class: a glowing orb in oranges and yellows with a long tail streaking gracefully behind. It did not fit into the sky-scene at all. It just glowed through the pink, dusky sky and kept shining through the dark night for months.

My parents put an incredible amount of time making our backyard into a beautiful space, full of bright zinnias, happy sunflowers, and bold hydrangeas, which each took their turns to perk up our home. Starting in the spring, when the lingering heat at dusk brings out flowers’ perfumes, family dinners frequently moved outside. Rather than enjoying the typical Alabama evenings, that spring, we were captivated by Hale-Bopp, which was hovering just above my neighbor’s garage. Dad would grill, and we would have long dinners, talking and staring at the comet.

Hale-Bopp remained visible from my backyard for only a month, but, in our memories, it was forever suspended in the sky when we grilled out. Without fail, my dad would raise his hand at some point in dinner and point into the northwestern sky, just above the neighbor’s garage and to the right of a spindly crepe myrtle and say, “Remember when Hale-Bopp was there?” My brother and I would moan out begrudging acknowledgements, but I really did love thinking back on that phenomenal display.

Eleven springs and summers passed before we moved. Hale-Bopp did not travel to Chattanooga with us, although my dad still occasionally throws out a “Remember when we used to grill out and think about…” comment. Still, every time the grill gets fired up in the spring, I happily think of that and wonderful family dinners on the patio.

Last week marked the beginning of grilling season for me; four of the past six dinners have come with the heavenly hint of charcoal taste, and two of those have included these stuffed peppers. Unlike the oozing, oily cheese-filled peppers that tend to make up the stuffed pepper genre, these are packed with hearty Italian sausage, seasoned with a hint of extra fennel, sweet tomatoes, and feta. The grill brings out the flavors, making it perfect for eating under a spring sky – comet-lit or not.

Italian Sausage-Stuffed Peppers
Serves 6 as a side

6 hot peppers of your choice (I used 3 Anaheim and 3 Poblano)
1 lb. mild Italian Sausage
1 tbs fennel seed
⅓ cup cherry tomatoes, quartered
Dash of Tobasco
½ cup crumbled feta

In a large skillet, toast the fennel seed for about 5 minutes. Transfer to a mortar, add a pinch of salt, and grind with your pestle.

Remove sausage from its casing and add to the skillet; cook, breaking into small pieces, until fully cooked. Add fennel, tomatoes, Tobasco, and feta; mix well.

Starting with one pepper, cut in half in a way that best allows each half to lie flat. Use a small spoon to scoop seeds out. (Note: the spiciness of the sausage mixture combined with the spice of the pepper’s flesh is just the right amount of heat to work with the myriad of flavors. But if extra spicy is your goal, feel free to leave some seeds behind.) Repeat with the other peppers. Fill each pepper with the sausage mixture.

Grill the peppers over direct heat for 5 minutes, then an additional 2-3 minutes over indirect heat.

Life Guarantees: Deviled Eggs in the Picnic Basket

Liz — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 17:33:37 +0000

I have always hated the saying, “There are two things in life you can rely on: death and taxes.” What kind of life is that if those are the only two things that you can count on? I have so many other certainties.

I can wake up on any spring morning and know before I look out my window that New Orleans looks beautiful. If there are rain clouds, the oak trees covering my regular drive gain a breathtaking silhouette. If its sunshine, well, there is no blue sky that can frame bunches of blooming jasmine quite like the sky in this part of the country.

Have you ever tasted good cheese straws? I promise that my grandmother’s were better. If I came to visit, I never once doubted that a tin would be sitting on a table in the dining room ready for me to eat.

At every Southern church picnic, there will be at least one plate of deviled eggs. Actually, it is fairly likely that you’ll find three plates; but I cannot say that with the same confidence as the single plate, my grandmother’s cheese straws, or the beauty of New Orleans in the spring.

Because of Easter, this final life-truth kept popping up in my head, and I decided to make some deviled eggs. What better way to use up Easter weekend hardboiled eggs, right? I went for a less traditional twist on this picnic standard and made Bacon Cheddar Deviled Eggs.

With such a quintessential picnic basket filler, I had to use a classic picnic basket. Even if the woven willow of the Picnic & Beyond Veranda Collection basket had not immediately caught my eye, the cotton lining would have – it’s the perfect springtime green! This basket is on the small size, but it still has the perfect amount of space for leftover pork tenderloin slice and the deviled eggs; plus, that size makes it ideal for carrying comfortably. The salad-sized plates make this a great basket for a light dinner in the hot spring or summer sun.

Bacon and Cheddar Deviled Eggs
A recipe by Philadelphia based chef Mitch Prensky, shared with CHOW
Makes 24 deviled eggs

12 eggs
6 tbs mayonnaise
2 tsps Dijon mustard
4 tsps rendered bacon fat
2 tsps cider vinegar
2 tsps finely chopped fresh thyme
salt and pepper
crumbled bacon (garnish)
thinly sliced aged cheddar (garnish)

Hard-boil the eggs. Cool, peel, and cut in half. Use a spoon to remove the yolks into a medium-sized mixing bowl. Reserve egg whites on a plate.

Add mayonnaise, Dijon, bacon fat, cider vinegar, and thyme to the yolks. Combine, adding salt and pepper to taste. Mix until the yolks are broken up and ingredients are completely incorporated.

Spoon mixture into a small Ziploc bag; seal tightly and clip off one corner. Pipe the mixture evenly into the egg whites. Top with crumbled bacon and cheddar.

Bunny Bread: Easter Picnic Basket Must and Self-Medication for Homesickness

Liz — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 18:07:27 +0000

I am incredibly homesick. I wish I could say I reached this realization in a respectable, rational way, but that would be a lie. I actually recognized it while reading The Hunger Games series.

Donna Curie's much cuter bunny that accompanied the original recipe on Serious Eats.

I’m not especially proud of it. This is a typical example of how I tend to freely indulge my erratic emotions.

Intrigued by the hype that surrounded the movie’s release, I decided to read The Hunger Games. I like to tell people that I stopped reading and started watching TV in college. I do realize the irony in this, but when I read, I stay up late, unwilling to put down the book; TV shows end in a specific time and, in a dorm that only had Internet through an Ethernet cable, going to sleep was easier that starting another show. The Hunger Games was no exception, and I read the entire trilogy in two weeks. When I closed the final book yesterday, I discovered that I had slowly curled up on my couch. And was crying. A lot. Without spoiling too much of the plot, my train of thought went something along the lines of the following:

Katniss went through SO much. Pause for sobs. Her POOR FAMILY!!!! Pause to blow nose. She needs a hug. Just a big hug to make everything okay.This continued for longer that I’d like to admit. When I finally talked to my parents later that night, I realized that it was really me that wanted a big hug. From my parents. As upsetting as the fictional life of Katniss Everdeen is (and it really is!), my sobs were primarily the result of not being able to be with my family for Easter.

My mom decorates the house for every holiday. From the standards like Halloween to the less typical like Advent, we have one very festive house. So, I know exactly how the rooms in our home look right now, which Easter baskets are where, what Kindergarten artwork has been hung on what.

Without decorations of my own to make myself feel at home, I decided to ease my homesickness with the next obvious choice: Easter themed food. Specifically, bunny bread. My rabbit turned out much flatter (fatter) than the picture on the recipe I followed, but hopefully I’ll have mastered it by Easter, so I can nibble on a well-risen, chubby bunny.

Picnic tip: If your Easter meal involves a few picnic baskets, rather than an Easter basket, this bunny bread is great to throw in. It’s great bread for tearing, which is always good for a picnic.

Bunny Bread
From Donna Curie’s recipe on Serious Eats

1 1/4 cups water
2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
1 tablespoon sugar
2 3/4 cups bread flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoon olive oil

Put the water, yeast, and sugar in the bowl of your stand mixer. Stir to combine then add the flour. Knead with the stand mixer fitted with the dough hook until the dough is smooth and elastic. Add the salt and olive oil and continue kneading until the oil and salt are fully incorporated and the dough is smooth, shiny, and very elastic. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set aside until the dough has doubled in size.

When the dough has doubled, flour your work surface, line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Turn out the dough and knead it briefly to knock out the air. Cut off about 2/3 of the dough, and form it into an egg-shaped ball. Place this piece on the parchment paper, seam-side down.

Cut the remaining piece of dough in half. Form one of those halves into a teardrop shape. This will become the bunny head and ears. Begin rolling the thin end so you end up with a ball about 3 inches in diameter on the fat end attached to a thick rope (think of the shape of a Tootsie Pop) about 6 inches long. Using a bench scraper, pizza cutter, or sharp knife, slit the rope in half all the way up to the ball. Form the two pieces that you just created into ears. Set this aside.

Cut about 1/3 of the dough off of the remaining piece of dough. Form this into a rope about 6 inches long. Form it into a U-shape and slide the U under the narrow end of the egg-shaped piece of dough on the parchment. Leave the loose ends sticking out about 2 inches. (This doesn’t have to be exact – arrange it so it looks pleasing to you. The important thing is that the base of that U is anchored under the body.) Those loose ends will be the front paws.

Form the last piece into a rope about 9 inches long. As you roll, leave a fatter bit in the center then thin it out, and leave the ends fatter. Fold the dough in half and form that center fat bit into a ball. This will be the bunny’s tail.

Position the tail at the back end of the bunny, then tuck the thin portion under the body, leaving the thicker parts – the bunny’s back legs – sticking out on either side of the bunny.

On the narrow part of the egg-shaped body, press down just behind the edge of the dough to form an indentation where the head will rest. Put the head on the body, and adjust the front paws and ears as desired. Sprinkle the bunny with flour and cover with plastic wrap. Set aside until doubled in size – about 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 350° while the bunny is rising.

Uncover the bunny. Using small, sharp scissors, snip the ends of the paws to form toes. Cut slits for the eyes. Pinch the front of the dough to form a nose.

Bake the bunny at 350° until nicely browned, about 40 minutes. Let it cool completely before slicing.