Never Bashful with Butter

Alright.. This post is dedicated to one of my favourite fruits, the lychee.
In the spirit of The Greater Pacific Northwest Durian Challenge.

My first introduction to the lychee flavour was just a few years back, on a day trip to Seattle with my sister. We were there for the Chinese New Year Celebration, and while we were there, we stopped at the Giant Uwajimaya supermarket.

Giant in comparison to the Uwajimaya closest to where I live now, which is still huge in comparison to most grocery stores.

Anyways, so we went there, and me, not being familiar with much in the way of Asian foods, drinks, produce or.. well, anything, I went straight for the beverage section. I’m addicted to beverages, what  can I say? Whenever I’m in a different city, I stop at a grocery store and a convenience store, and check to see if there are any beverages that I haven’t tried before. I’ve even dneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comriven half a state away, just to buy an Afri-cola, and a Nesbitt’s Orange soda.

So I’m looking through this refrigerator case full of stuff I’ve never had before. So, of course I get two of everything that looks drinkable. I stay away from anything that looks milk based, since we had a long drive home still. I end up with a ton of Ramune soda, one flavour in particular. The Lychee flavour.

Of course I didn’t know it was lychee flavour at first, I had to do some investigating.

See, I don’t pretend to know much about anything Asian. I grew up in a rural farming community. Major exports from our town- milk, and chicken manure. As a kid,  the closest thing I experienced that was even close to “culture shock” was eating at the mongolian grill booth at the county fair.

I’ve never much been into anime, just because I don’t have a long enough attention span to really watch them. Same goes for most movies and TV shows though. Nothing against Anime in particular.

So all I really had to go on for what flavour this soda was, was the cute little drawing of the fruit on the side of the bottle. A cute little bumpy  acorn shaped fruit, with a smiley face, of course.

In fact, my quest for flavour discovery actually lead me to my first introduction to the durian flavour.

It was a package of flavoured marshmallows. There was a cartoon drawing of a cute little bumpy acorn shaped fruit on the package of marshmallows, too. I bought them. of course, upon further investigation- (i.e. placing them in my mouth and chewing) I discovered that the flavour was something all together different. There was no way they could be the same, and infact, they were quite different. (though a cartoon durian is very similar to a cartoon lychee, in my opinion)

Anyways, I finally figured it out after investigating ramune soda available flavours, and narrowing it down through google image search for label photos. (Its actually pretty funny, because there are some labels that clearly say LYCHEE in english on the side, but apparently I didn’t buy those bottles)

It would be a quite a while before I encountered an actual lychee fruit, however-

I’ve had lychee fruit a few times now, since that first encounter. Unfortunately, because lychee fruit aren’t native to where I live, they’re all imported, and the quality varies, as does the import season.

The fruit posted here is not quite fully ripened. Its the best I can find though, as I’d rather have less ripe than overripe. It tastes fairly close to fully ripened lychee, but only a little less soft.

The shell of the fruit is kind of leathery, and you’ve got to cut through it with a sharp knife. It helps to cut the top off and then peel off the shell, but for photographic purposes, I chose to do it differently. also, you can pluck the seed out this way, and its a lot less messy.

The actual flesh of the lychee ranges from white to a soft pink, depending on what variety of lychee you’re eating. This one is more white than pink, and the dark spots you’re seeing are part of the inner lining surrounding the seed. I don’t know if you’re supposed to remove that lining before eating the fruit, but I always do, because its hard and not very fun to chew.

As you can see, the rest of the fruit is soft and juicy.


Its hard to describe the actual flavour of a lychee. Its just GOOD. Slightly citrusy, with a bit of grape and rose thrown in there. Its sweet, not sugary. Its not tart at all, nor is it sour.

The texture is pretty close to that of a grape, a bit of a thin skin on the outside holding tightly to all the juicy goodness on the inside. Biting into it there is a slight crunch, followed by a lot of juice pouring out of the flesh.

Because Lychee fruit are not common around here at all, its not very cost effictive to buy them fresh and expect to be able to make much with them. The fruit themselves are about the same size as a small apricot, if not a bit smaller at times. As you see in the photo above, the center of the fruit is a large seed, which is poisonous (don’t eat it) so really, there is very little fruit on the whole thing.

So when I set out to try my lychee experiments, in addition to the actual fruits, I bought lychee juice to suppliment.



So for the first experiment, I made lychee juice and puree popsicles.

They’re small, the size of a shot glass, but really tasty.

I also made a lychee and lime martini. VERY good.

Hopefully this weekend I’ll be able to post photos of more lychee experiments.

Amongst other things, three desserts are planned. Cupcakes, Jello, and a tart.  Other fruits in the mix- Strawberry, Cherry and Tuscan Melon.

Keep an eye out!

To make two servings, you’ll need-

4 measures white rum (if you prefer, you can use vodka, both variations were pretty tasty)
2 measures triple sec
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 tablespoon agave nectar
4-6 measures lychee juice

Shake with ice, pour into chilled martini glasses, garnish with slice of lime, marachino cherry, and drop the fruit of one lychee into the drink.

Enjoy!

If you want to enjoy something similar without being alcoholic
you might try the lychee and lime spritzer-

1 cup lychee juice
2 tablespoons lime juice
2 cups lemon lime soda

Stir to mix, and serve over ice.

Also, you can see in the first photo, I made some mini lychee juice pops, by freezing lychee juice in disposable shot glasses. Just put some tape over the open end, and stick a toothpick 3/4 of the way into the juice, freeze, making sure the pops are level, and in within about 6 hours, you’ve got a delicious frozen treat!

Enjoy!

-A.

Since today felt like the sun had landed in my back yard and shone solely for the sake of my sweat  glands, I didn’t feel much like making dinner this evening. My husband, being the utilitarian type, announced he planned on living off popsicles anyways, so my food preparation boycott didn’t bother him in the least.

“You know, now you see why I buy those frozen burritos for myself when I’m at the grocery store.” he says.

It’s true. I do see why. I just happen to hate them, myself. I figured if worse came to worse, I’d eat some cold cereal, or maybe just drink a lot of water until the heat started to fade, and make myself something to eat later.

Realizing it had been a few days since I cleared out the mailbox, I decided to throw on some flip flops and brave the sun drenched afternoon to fetch the mail. Its not really that long of a walk, but I catch a freckle after being in the shade on a sunny day in about five minutes. Walking to the mail box I usually throw on a long sleeve shirt and just deal with the heat, because I sneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comeriously could get sun burnt in a tank top.

But I digress.

The mailbox was jam packed with goodies. My threadless tee from the 12 club came, there was a mish mosh of bills, ad flyers, coupons and a tiny little cardboard box. My Soyjoy snack bars FINALLY came in the mail. I ordered them like.. oh.. 3 months ago?

Into the house I went. I opened the box and dove into the bars. Apple, raisin almond and coconut mango. I chose apple.

I ripped open the package and was caught a little off guard by the sight of it. It was a little square bar of… baked good. The smell was delicious, so I took a bite.

I don’t think I’d choose to call it a baked good. Maybe a baked Bad. I gave it to my husband. He immediately says.. “you know what this reminds me of?”

I stare blankly.

“MRE’s”

And at that moment I knew what had to be done. This post is not about soyjoy snack bars. Its a post about my first MRE.

Aaron’s brother is a reservist, and I think last year for Christmas, he had all the males in the family stick their hands into a giant box and pick out a “present”

Of course, they ended up with MRE’s. It was kinda funny, because they were all SO happy. It was like they had been given the best present ever, which is neat, because from that point on, I knew I could give everyone food for presents, and they’d be happy little campers about it.

I think originally Aaron ended up with another one, but he quickly swapped for this one, because he thought there might be a chance that in the future, I might want to try it. I guess he was right.

I took the MRE down from its hiding spot, above the medicine cabinet, inside the fondue pot. I figured in case of a zombie apocalypse, I should keep it near the bandaids.. You know, because you can never plan too well for those things.

I opened the pouch. (for future reference, do not attempt to open pouch with your teeth.)
With a knife.

I was greeted by a wide selection of brown tubes, pouches, boxes and packets.

A rundown of what you see here-

Cheese tortellini in tomato sauce, spoon, Spiced pound cake, Iodized salt and salt free seasoning packet. Charms candy, clorets mint chewing gum. Iced tea with lemon drink powder, Spiced cider, spiced apples, Peanut butter, crackers, Moist towelette, toilet paper, matches. There was also a heating pouch, but Aaron was busy getting it ready when I took this photo.

The Nutritional information on these puppies was amazing-

Not too bad, you know.. except for the SODIUM CONTENT. Holy crap.

So,I uess the way it works, is you put the heating packet in water, and then put the heating packet and the food packet into the big heavy duty pouch that the whole mess came in. When Aaron did this, we both were surprised with how hot that little thing got. Seriously? I tried to get a photo of the steam, but my camera didn’t wanna play. it was amazing though. Our pasta was hot in a matter of minutes. We also warmed up the spiced apples, and then warmed up water for our apple cider.

While Aaron was preparing all this, I got down to business with the Peanut butter and the crackers-

If you haven’t had MRE crackers before, just imagine like.. three slices of white bread, smashed and dried. That’s what one of these crackers is like. They’re really good, but they suck all the moisture out of your body. The peanut butter is really good too, but… well, you’ll be licking the roof of your mouth for a good half an hour after eating it.

The heating phase of dinner was complete, and.. well..

Pouch time.

We figured we’d go authentic, and only use the tools that came with the meal to present the meal. Considering the only tool that came along with the mess was a spoon.. well, this is what you get-

Cheese tortellini with tomato sauce-

Spiced apples over spiced pound cake-

The entire meal, plus the lemon flavoured iced tea beverage that I prepared. Aaron made and then quickly consumed the spiced cider pouch after he had a bout with the peanut butter crackers. hehe..

Overall, I was pretty impressed. If it wasn’t for the sodium content, I might be persuaded to eat this same thing again. The pasta was fairly fresh tasting, and not overly.. well it tasted good, and not really like canned pasta sauce, which is weird. The tortellini could have been improved upon, but I mean.. It came from a pouch, what should I expect?

The Spiced apples had some crunch on them, and didn’t feel weird or have a funky aftertaste to them. The spiced pound cake was really good, if only a little dry. But then again.. It came in a pouch.

So, I guess my MRE experience wasn’t too bad. If I was stuck in the desert, or in a forest, or somewhere where regular food wasn’t available, I’d definately enjoy this. I didn’t eat more than about a third of the whole thing, and I’m STUFFED. Sure, after I was done, I drank about a gallon of water, but that’s what canteens are for, right?

I’m thinking I’ll have to find a way to get my brother in law to donate more to us.. you know.. since I’ve depleted my emergency rations for the zombie apocalypse and all.

OH yeah, and I gotta say, great thinking, including a wad of toilet paper with the meal. Definately thinking ahead, the MRE packagers are. Definately on top of things.

Also, I’d just like to note, Its been about an hour since we ate this, and I don’t even have heart burn. heh. simply amazing.

-A.

Even though I was a very sensitive child, I tried my hardest to be a rebel…

I can remember the first time I bit into a lime. My mom told me I wouldn’t like it, so I was determined to prove her wrong. Bordering on 6 years old, thats just what I did. I spent my time asking questions and then saying “nuh-uh” and then doing what I was told I wouldn’t want to do, or wouldn’t enjoy doing.

I didn’t really think much about it, since I’d only met with two other types of citrus, the orange and the lemon. This fruit was much prettier. The exact shade of green that I liked. One of my favourite colours, besides pink. Since there were no pink fruits that I knew of (I hadn’t met with the amazing grapefruit before, and it would be quite a few years before blood oranges made their debut in my local grocery store) This green one would have to do.

I didn’t know how to broach it. Do I peel it? Do I bite right into it like an apple? It was greeneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comn, like an apple. It smelled faintly sweet. I licked it.

The rough texture of the rind felt like how I imagined a frog would feel on my tongue, minus the sliminess, of course. I thought of the frog that I had been keeping as a “pet” in the hose box outside by the water spigot. I named him Fred, and I would dig up worms in the garden and put them in a cup with a little bit of dirt inside the hose box, so Fred would have something to eat. Occasionally I’d keep a few worms and put them under my sisters pillow, or just throw them at her if I felt like it. I wasn’t afraid of worms, though the thought of putting them in my mouth made me gag a little. So did the thought of putting an amphibian in my mouth. I decided to peel the lime.

For those of you who don’t know, citrus peeling technology in the mid 80’s was fairly… barbaric. You either used a paring knife, or a peeling tool. I was still five years old, so I wasn’t allowed to handle sharp knives just yet. I used the orange peeling tool from my mom’s bright orange tupperware set. The thing looked like a crochet hook , only the front of the hook was flat, and the inside of the hook was sharp. It worked kind of like a reverse zipper. You hooked the rind on the hook, and then you pulled downward, “unzipping” the peel, and revealing the soft white pith that you removed by hand.

It wasn’t so easy with a lime. I think I cut myself a few times on the sharp end of the citrus peeler, so I gave up and tried the potato peeler.

This did not work so well. I turned to the butterknife in hopes that it would help free the tasty green flesh of this forbidden fruit.

My mom looked on as I cut into the lime, spilling the sticky juices out onto the cutting board. Again, she warned me. “you’re not going to like it”.

This was like adding fuel to the fire. I was a pretty good little kid, but I found little ways to rebel. This was one of them.

She took a break from putting the dishes into the dishwasher to observe my little experiment. I think she cringed as I bit deeply into the lime, as if I was trying to shove the entire fruit into my mouth.

From the moment the sour juice hit my tongue, I was no longer in control of my actions. I dropped my hands to my sides and made the sound that my mom used to refer to as “the shudder gag” which is sort of an involuntary sound made by a person who is gagging, only they have their mouth open. Try it sometime, its unique.

My teeth clenched, holding the lime deeply within my mouth. When this happened, the hard rind of the fruit hit the spot in the back of my mouth that sets off my gag reflex. So I’m gagging with my mouth propped open by the fruit that I can’t remove from my mouth because my jaw has clamped down because I’m gagging, but the fruit is making me gag. It was a vicious cycle.

My mom dropped her dishtowel and laughed that full body belly laughter that made her knees buckle. She said I looked like a cat that had just been given peanut butter. My tongue was thrusting against the fruit which would not budge from the spot which my teeth held it tightly to.  I started to cry.

Finally, my mom realized what was going on, and stuck her finger in my mouth and pulled out the lime. I’m fairly certain she was still laughing when I yelled “ITS NOT FUNNY!” and got all bent of shape about her making fun of me, although really, she was just laughing at a funny situation.
…And that is when it happened.

I threw a temper tantrum. The last temper tantrum I EVER threw in my entire life.

To say I was a spoiled little brat would be missing the point. I wasn’t spoiled, per se, I was the baby of the family, which did not get me anything special really, other than the excuse that I was the baby, and that was why I was throwing a temper tantrum.

I’d throw a temper tantrum over anything. ANYTHING.

I didn’t want to take a shower. Temper tantrum.
I didn’t want to go to school.  Temper tantrum.
I didn’t want to eat my vegetables. Temper tantrum.

I didn’t want to take my cold medicine..
… OK, that last one never happened. My mom will freely admit that I was a Dimetapp addict as a child, even convincing my older sister that “mom said it was ok” for her to get the bottle of delicious grape flavoured goodness (grape is still one of my favourite candy flavours), down from the shelf that I was too short to reach.

Anyways, I was big into the temper tantrums. They all followed the same format, too.

Step #1- Clench fists and hold arms tight against the sides of your body. Frown
Step #2- Stomp, using the biggest steps your body can muster. Develop a “tantrum catch phrase” such as “I DON’T WANNA” or “YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!” Repeat often. Fake cry.
Step #3- Jump up and down, repeat your tantrum catch phrase loud, and repeatedly. Alternate between jumping up and down and stomping.
Step #4- Fall down, Kick, scream, and writhe on the floor, continue until either parent relents, or you are told to go to your room.

This tantrum was just like any other.  I stomped, I clenched, I repeated something like “Its not funny!” and just when I got to the part where you fall backwards.. Yeah, The look of horror filled my mom’s eyes as she realized what I was about to do.

I was probably about 2 feet in front of the dishwasher, which was open.

Before she could act, I launched myself backwards, landing on the open door to the dishwasher. When I hit, I realized what had just happened, and I scared myself so bad that I started crying for real. When I used my legs to try and kick myself back up, the backs of my calves hit the door latch, which was a big sharp metal hook. Needless to say, I cut both of my legs on this hook. I managed to wriggle myself back up, but the force of my body pushing down on the door bent it down to where it could not be shut again. I ran into my bedroom, screaming and freaking out all the way.

Unaware that  I was injured, my mom came running behind me into my bedroom. She wasn’t screaming at me because she was mad, but because she was just as scared as I was. I just remember her saying over and over, “THE WHOLE DISHWASHER COULD HAVE CLOSED ON YOU!” and telling me she was just glad I wasn’t hurt.

Well, I was hurt. We didn’t have health insurance at that point, so my mom just used butterfly bandages to close the huge wounds on the backs of both calves. I told all the kids at school that I got hit by a car, and survived. They didn’t believe me.

I had to do the dishes, by hand, three days a week for the next month. I guess it was a fitting punishment, since my parents had to buy a new dishwasher and everything.

That was the last temper tantrum I ever threw. Srsly. Sure, I’d cry or say “MOoooooOOOoM!!!” in that way that kids do when they want something and they just can’t have it. But I never ever threw a physical tantrum again. I was too scared.

It was a pretty long time before I tried another lime, too. The next incarnation of the lime that I experienced was via the Lime Jello, Cottage cheese and pineapple “salad” that was so very popular in the 80’s, even though people were eating lumpy green goo with stringy chunks of yellow stuff in it.

But really, who am I to judge. I played with worms.

These cupcakes taste like the key lime cheesecake I had for dessert at my high school prom. It was the first time I’d ever had cheesecake with a layer of sweetened cream cheese at the top, and a layer of pineapple at the bottom, just sitting on top of the crust. To say this cheesecake tasted like that lime jello salad that I mentioned before would be an understatement.

It was delicious, and so are these cupcakes.

Tasting more like cheesecake than my childhood memories of the evil “Lime jello salad” with cottage cheese and chunks of pineapple, I chose to add pineapple juice and lime jello powder to a cream cheese base, eliminating the awkward texture that no one loved about the original.

Key lime cupcake recipe-

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons grated key lime zest
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup key lime juice

Cream together the butter or margarine and 1 cup sugar. Beat until light and fluffy. Separate the eggs. Beat in the egg yolks one at a time, and add the key lime zest.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add these dry ingredients to the egg butter mixture, alternating with 3/4 cup key lime juice.

Beat the egg whites until stiff, and fold into the batter.

Spoon the batter into paper lined cupcake tins. Bake for 15-20 minutes at 350 degrees F, or until the cakes test done with a toothpick. This recipe should make about 12-18 cupcakes.

Allow to cool before frosting.

Lime Jello Salad Icing Recipe-

1 regular sized package of lime gelatin dessert powder (not sugar free)
3 cups powdered sugar
1 cup cream cheese
1/4 cup butter
1-4 tablespoons pineapple juice

In the bowl of a heavy duty stand mixer, beat the cream cheese and butter together on high until smooth. Scrape from the edges of the bowl with a spatula and turn mixer to one of the lowest settings. slowly add the lime gelatin dessert powder, followed by the powdered sugar. The mixture should be dry and crumbly.

Turn the mixer speed to high, one step at a time, allowing the mixer to remain at each speed for about 30 seconds or so. Add the pineapple juice one tablespoon at a time. Mixture should come together and fluff up. IF the mixture is still dry, add a tablespoon of HOT water. IF the mixture is too liquidy, add more powdered sugar.

Let the mixture rest for about 5 minutes before spreading on the cooled cupcakes. Sprinkle with sprinkles and top with a lime section or a marachino cherry. Serve cold and enjoy!

-A.

This Warm, dark chocolate, mini cake with brandy soaked apricots and caramel sauce… well, it would hardly fit that bill.

I’ve been craving apricots (brandicots) and caramel for a long time now.. Chocolate just seemed the best base for the two flavours…

Coming in at Four inches across, this cake is perfect for two people…

of course, a full batch actually makes four of them, but whatever. Thats what the freezer is for… And dinner parties…

One thing I wish I had right now… A big scoop of vanilla ice cream.

..Of course, I feel that way after I make any dessert, so maybe I should look into making some more ice cream this summer. hehe.. Who’da thunk it?! *smile*

On with the recipe!

A few days before you plan on making this cake, you’ll want to get working on the apricots.

Brandy soaked apricots-

4 fresh, ripe apricots
1/2 cup water
1 cup sugar
Brandy (just enough to cover the fruit, so probably only a cup or two)

In a medium saucepan, add the sugar and the water. Stir until the sugar is dissolved, bring the syrup to a boil. As soon as the mixture begins a rolling boil, remove from heat. Cool completely.

Once the sugar syrup has cooled completely, cut the apricots in half and put them in the pot with the sugar syrup. Stir them around until they’re completely coated, then pour them into a wide, shallow resealable container, like tupperware. make sure the apricot halves are all completely covered with syrup.

Pour the brandy over the apricots, Seal the container and give it a good shake then make sure that no part of the apricots are extending out of the brandy, only pour enough over top to cover them. Seal the container and place in the refrigerator for 2 days or so, probably not more than a week. (I’m sure they’d be ok after that, but I don’t know how much longer)

When you’re ready to use them, simply use a slotted spoon to remove them from the liquid.

The chocolate cake recipe is a simple, dense dark chocolate cake. It tastes better warm, to me, but it doesn’t have to be served warm.

2 cups sugar
1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup powdered dark cocoa
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup boiling water

Heat oven to 350 F. Grease and flour 4 4″ round pans (spring form, if you have them) or 2 8″ round pans.

Stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt in large bowl. Add eggs, milk, oil and vanilla; beat on medium speed of mixer 2 minutes. Stir in boiling water (batter will be thin). Pour batter into prepared pans.

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Allow the cakes to cool slightly, about 10 minutes. If you’re using the 4″ rounds, cut each cake in half, horizontally. If you’re using 2 8″ rounds, level one of the cake tops, and use the other cake as the top of the whole cake (the 4″ cake rounds will be taller than the 8″ rounds, so the 4″ cakes are 4 separate cakes, whereas the 8″ cakes will be one whole cake.)

Fill with apricots, sliced medium thickness, top with hot caramel sauce. Replace the top of the cake, top with hot caramel sauce and a few chocolate shavings. Serve with a spoon. Inhale.

Or, serve with a big ol scoop of vanilla ice cream. Inhale. Either way. *smile*

If you want to use my caramel recipe go here-
Otherwise, quick! start making this before you drool yourself to death!

-A.

P.S. it doesn’t have to be made with brandy soaked apricots, plain apricots will do just fine. *smile*

Some days, breakfast comes easier than others.

Today was one of those days.

Basically, all these tasty little treats amount to, is a wad of bread dough topped with cream cheese and a scoop of strawberry jam, topped with a fresh strawberry and some agave nectar. The full recipe will be posted at both The Breakfast Blogger, and Never Bashneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comful With Butter, Ooh you tasty little things, by this evening.

I’d wax poetic about my childhood on the strawberry orchard, or talk about how my mom makes the best fresh bread on the planet (which is completely the truth, and no one will ever convince me otherwise), Perhaps I could spend an hour typing my memories about the first time I tried cream cheese, taking a giant bite out of the package, promptly spitting it out, vowing to never eat it again, or maybe I’d just ramble for a while about beautiful and blue the country sky is when you’re lying on your back in a field that goes on for miles and miles…

But sometimes some photos need fewer words than others.

Inspired by the danishes and sweetbreads that my mom used to make when I was growing up, This recipe could easily be made Vegan by substituting Vegan cream cheese and making a Vegan bread dough. Its all about the strawberries on this one.

For the breadlets-

4 c. all purpose flour
2 1/2 c. lukewarm water
2 (1/4 oz.) pkgs. dry or compressed yeast
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tbsp. vegetable shortening or butter
1 tbsp. sugar
Dissolve yeast in a little warm water. Add remaining water and mix. Add butter. Mix or sift together dry ingredients. Add half the flour, mixing with spoon or electric mixer or bread kneading attachment. Turn dough out on a lightly floured board or other surface.To knead, fold the dough over and push with the heel of the hand, adding remaining flour gradually. Give the dough a quarter turn and fold over and push again. Continue this folding, pushing and turning procedure until the dough is smooth and elastic, usually 8 to 10 minutes.

Place the dough in a greased bowl, turning to grease the surface. Cover the dough with a cloth and let rise until double in bulk. To determine whether the dough has risen enough, press two fingers about 1/2″ into the dough. If the indentations remain, the dough is ready to shape.

Punch down the dough again, and separate into two equal pieces. I usually cut each piece into ten pieces, but if you don’t want to make 20 little breadlets, you can make whatever you want with the rest, since its just regular bread dough.

Roll each of the pieces into round dough balls, and then pound them flat. Place them on a greased baking sheet and allow them to rest while you prepare the filling. (preheat the oven to 350)

For the cream cheese filling-

1 cup cream cheese
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Mix well, making sure the cream cheese is not clumpy.

Place a heaping spoonful in the center of each breadlet. With the back of the spoon make a small indent in the cream cheese, and place a teaspoon of Strawberry jam.

Bake at 350 for about 8-10 minutes, or until the bread is lightly golden brown, and the bottom is NOT burnt.

Allow to fully cool before placing a small strawberry with the top cut off, point end up in the center of the breadlet. Drizzle with a little agave nectar or sprinkle with some sugar before serving.

I love these little bites. They taste like summer in your mouth, and the cream cheese perfectly accents the sweetness of the strawberry. The bread is just there to catch the drippings, but it makes a perfect fluffy little sponge.

So delicious!

-A.

Its fathers day again (tomorrow) and so in honour of fathers day, I made my fathers favourite type of cake, Angel Food.

Angel food cake is interesting to make. The texture of the cake is based on how well you whip the egg whites, and how fluffy your cake “batter” is, though its really much less a batter than it is a poof. A poofy batter.

I think its kind of interesting that my dad’s favourite type of cake is angel food cake, considering its fluffy consistancy. Most people reading this have never met my father, so I’ll try to do my best to describe him in a way that I can explain my thoughts on this…

But first, the cake.

And now, a VERY random detailing of my father.

My dad cries at sad endings of movies. I’ll just get that out there right now, out of the way. Not only does he just cry at theneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.com sad endings of movies, but he cries at the sad endings of movies like… Rudy (Sean Astin plays the little guy that just wants to play football, and in the end he gets his wish.) or Radio (I don’t really know much about this movie, since I haven’t seen it, but from what I’ve gathered, its a heartfelt movie about Cuba Gooding Jr. as a mentally challenged man that has something to do with sports.) But his movie time crying doesnt end with just sports movies…

I’d like it to be known that my father cried at the end of Disney’s Iron Giant. Yes. Iron Giant. An animated movie about a boy and his robot. Sometimes I think.. Maybe my dad sees himself as that boy, and he lost his robot long ago..

..But then I start to chuckle, because my dad is crying at a cartoon.

I guess I should go to explain further. My dad doesn’t look like the kind of guy that would cry at football movies.

He’s about 6′3″, 250 pounds. Bright orange hair growing wildly from the sides, and the majority of the top of his head. His only facial hair is a thick orange tuft of mustache, and an orange goatee accented by two bright white stripes growing down both sides of his chin. He can usually be found in his work attire- Button up shirt, Dress slacks, a tie and some shiny shoes, but as soon as the weekend hits, he’s wearing a pair of jean shorts, a sleeveless shirt and tennis shoes, he’s either wearing a cowboy hat that he’s owned since the mid 80’s, or he’s got his reading glasses on, perched atop his head when they’re not in use. He’s a big country dude, if he was wearing leather, he’d look like an old biker. No joke. Not someone you’d expect to find their sensitive side in the ending of a sad movie.

The thing about my dad is, he’s really a great guy. He’s got this crunchy outer shell, and he’s full of all this soft fluffy stuff.

My dad is the kind of guy that doesn’t expect much, and is ever grateful for what he does get. I don’t know how many ties he’s managed to amass over the years of my childhood, recieving a tie for his birthday and a tie for fathers day, and possibly another tie for christmas from both me and my older sister. Still, he would make a point of at least acting excited about them, and on the days that he wore them, he’d make sure that we saw that he wore OUR tie to work that day.

My dad is the kind of guy that appreciates the humour in gag gifts, and appreciates the heartfelt sentiment in handmade things. I planned out my dad’s 50th birthday present for two years. I collected a penny for each year that he’s been alive. At that time, 1954 to 2004. I mounted these pennies to a board and under each one representing a year where something major happened in his life, I wrote down the event and the exact date. Things like when he got his drivers license, when he met my mom, when he started working at the job he currently has. He loved it. And yes, he cried after he looked at it. Now he’s got it hanging above his window in his office. Other things he has in his work office might seem slightly strange to outsiders, but between me and my dad, they have meaning.

Like the cabbage patch doll that I had since they first came out, dressed in a business suit that my mom sewed. I gave this to my dad for Christmas one year. It was supposed to look like him in a business suit. (the random tuft of hair on the top of the head really sent that message home. *smile*)

He also has three paintings that I made for him when I was in highschool. I never knew he had them hanging up at his office, I just thought he put them somewhere, but imagine my surprise when I visit him at work one day, without him even knowing that I was going to be there, and there all this stuff is, things that I got my dad, or made for my dad. Prominently displayed. That makes a girl feel good.

When I was growing up, I spent the majority of my time with my dad. I have a lot of memories with my mom, but she was around more often, since she was a stay at home mom. But when it came down to it, when she wanted to go somewhere, she’d take my older sister, and I’d stay home with my dad. We spent a lot of time watching TV, but that was ok. I’d rather watch tv with my dad than go shopping with my mom. I’m still like that today. I’m not much of a girly girl. I hate shopping. I’m a list girl. My dad, he’s a list guy. If its not on the list, its not in the cart. Thats just how we do.

We did other things. We went fishing a lot. I liked fishing, though I wasn’t a big fan of putting the worm on the hook, so he bought these bright coloured marshmallows that had stuff that smelled like bait on them, so I just had to put a marshmallow on the hook. He taught me how to cast the line, how to reel it back in, and how to have the patience to sit back with a cold one (Big red soda, for me) and wait for something to happen. I think I only really caught like, 2 fish in my entire life, and both of them I made him throw back, because I felt so bad for the fish and their family (yeah, I was that kinda kid). My dad was friends with this guy who owned a convienience store, and we’d go visit him after we went fishing, or whatever it was that we did during the day, and he’d let me pick out whatever kind of soda I wanted from the refrigerated case. Coming from a poor family, this was a special treat, and I felt special because I got one and my sister didnt. *smile*

I’ve got other, more random, memories of my dad.

Whenever we had a family reunion, my dad would hook up the trailer to the back of the tractor, throw a couple hay bails in there, and give all the kids a ride through the yard. He’s always been good with kids, because he’s like a big kid himself.

He built the huge playhouse that my sister and I spent a huge chunk of our childhood in (that was made with such quality that when we sold it to someone else, it was easily transported, and is actually still in one piece to this day.) He built me a “goodie stand” which I used until I was around 12 years old, selling lemonade and cookies and cupcakes at every garage sale my mom had during each of my childhood summers.

My dad was a smoker.. but he would pay me one penny per cigarette butt I picked up out of the yard or in the driveway. He even made me this thing to pick them up, with a nail in the end of an old broom stick. One time he paid me almost 50 dollars, which was a ton of money to a little kid.

My dad has a twin brother. An Identical twin brother. For a while, my dad and I stayed with my uncle, and I would get the two of them confused sometimes, because they looked so much alike. My uncle had a pony tail, so sometimes I’d check the hairline before saying anything to either of them. My uncle always seemed pretty much like my dad, though its pretty obvious that my dad was the shy, less outspoken twin…

This isn’t so much a memory, but it speaks to my fathers character- My mom used to be a waitress at Sambo’s restaurant. My dad was one of the guys that sat at the bar and drank coffee. Apparently he liked my mom so much, but he never knew what to say, so he’d give her really big tips and then just leave and not say anything. He actually sent his brother in to approach my mom, you know, “my friend likes you” kindergarten style. After they went on a few dates, they moved in together, and they got married 6 months later. Its been almost 30 years now.

One spring, he took my sister and I to go pick huckleberries on Mt. St. Helens. We emerged a few hours later, purple stained faces, carrying 5 gallon buckets full of berries that we lived on throughout the summer. I think he would have taken us on more berry picking excursions, but he worked a lot to take care of our family.

My dad was the kind of guy that would scold you for doing something stupid like jumping off the back of the exercise bike onto the couch, but he’d cry along with you if you got hurt. He was always afraid of me and my sister getting hurt. I knew he loved me because he only yelled when I was doing something that would cause me, or someone else harm.

My mom says that I was my dad’s favourite. Its possible, but only because I spent a lot more time with him than my older sister. Also, spending so much time with him meant he had time to teach me things, and then hold me to the expectations that he built up based on those things he taught me.

Mostly the stuff he taught me had to do with cleaning or cooking. Things like, how to fold a towel. Longways- fold in half, then half again. Sideways, in thirds. And How to make a perfect pancake- Never use a pan on the stovetop, always use a griddle. Don’t butter the pan after the first pancake, but use the temperature control to keep the pancake from sticking. We had a ladle that held exactly 1/8 of a cup of batter, and that made the perfect pancake. He even taught me how to swirl the batter so it came out perfectly round and exactly the same size as the rest of the batch.

There were other nitpicky things that my dad “taught” me, most of them are still habits to this day. I look at it as a good thing, because it keeps me more organized and structured. My dad is a pretty structured guy.

But I remember when I thought my dad would no longer be there for me.
I was working at Michaels Craft store, and everything was normal that day. I was in charge of the art classes, and that day I spent the majority of my morning in the classroom, working with the kids in my class, cleaning up, or planning things out for the next day. My manager came running back and told me “you can go home if you want” which seemed sort of strange, because I didn’t ask to go home, and the store seemed pretty busy, which normally means they would ask me to cashier or something. I looked at her funny, ’cause it seemed weird, and she continued “well, I just got off the phone with your mom, she’s on her way to pick you up”.

This was especially odd, because I didn’t live with my mom. I was living with my first set of evil roommates, so I honestly thought something happened with them, and my mom was coming to tell me about it. Small towns, people gossip, you know how it is.

Anyways, my manager told me to go ahead and keep working until she got here, unless I wanted to clock out. I kept working, A girls got bills to pay, you know? I was walking up from the classroom, towards the front of the store to go sort baskets when my mom came running in, crying. She told me she needed me to sit down. We went back to the classroom, and we sat down.

“Dad’s in the hospital. He’s having heart problems, and they’re not sure if he had a heart attack or what.”

I don’t recall replying to her statement.

“You don’t have to leave, but dad is at the hospital, and we’re not sure how much of a recovery he’ll make.”

Still, no reply crossed my lips.

“I just wanted to tell you, so you knew what was going on. I know you and your dad are close. He’d like you to be there.”

I told her I just needed to clock out and I’d follow her to the hospital. My dad? In the hospital? This sort of thing just doesnt happen. My dad never was much of a “going to the doctor” type of guy, just like he wasn’t much of a “going to the dentist” type of guy, and he never had tooth problems, so why was he having heart problems?

We got to the hospital, and there was my dad. The first time ever I saw my dad laying down. He was quick to put on his “everything is ok” voice, and reassured me that he would be fine. I had my doubts. There he was, sitting in the hospital bed, drinking water from a pink plastic cup, looking rather large compared to his surroundings. He used to be much larger back then. His being thinner now is a direct result of what the doctor told him after his heart failure.

He had to stop smoking, he was put on a strict, low/ no salt diet. Tons of medications. He’s done surprisingly well. And I’m grateful for that, I want my dad to spend as much time on this planet as possible.

The cool thing about angel food cake, is that it has very little sodium in it, and compared to other cakes, its pretty dang healthy. So there is no problem with him having a slice every now and then.

So tomorrow, when father’s day is in full swing, he can have his piece of angel food cake, watch his tear jerker disney movies, and enjoy. Its his day, afterall.

I reserve the right to continue teasing him though, thats how it works for us. I tease him, he laughs. Its a great situation.

I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. Making angelfood cake is supposed to be more difficult than other cakes, because you’ve got to make sure the egg whites stay fluffy while you’re mixing it all in, otherwise you’ll end up with flat cake instead of fluffy, airy angelfood cake. Thats what the cream of tartar is for. Its a a stabilizer for the egg whites. Thats why its so important that you don’t omit that ingredient.

Anyways, I had fairly good luck making this, though I made them as mini cakes rather than a full sized ring cake, as is traditional. Either way, the recipe is delicious, and I’m sure my father will really enjoy his mini cakes tomorrow.

Recipe for angel food mini cakes-

1 1/2 cups egg whites (11 to 12 large eggs)
1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
1 cup cake flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons cream of tartar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla

Let egg whites stand in bowl of a standing electric mixer (see cooks’ note) at room temperature about 1 hour before making cake. (They should be about 60°F, slightly below room temperature.)

Set oven rack in lower third of oven and preheat oven to 350°F.

Sift together confectioners sugar, flour, and salt onto a sheet of wax paper using a fine sieve.

Beat whites in mixer until frothy. Add cream of tartar and beat at medium speed until they form soft peaks. Add granulated sugar gradually, beating, and continue beating just until whites are thickened and form soft, droopy peaks. Beat in vanilla.

Sprinkle one fourth of sifted dry ingredients over whites and fold in with a rubber spatula gently but thoroughly. Fold in remaining dry ingredients, one third at a time.

Gently pour batter evenly into ungreased tube pan (or about 30 paper lined muffin cups) and bake until top is light golden, cake retracts a bit from pan and springs back when touched lightly, and the cracks are NOT sticky, 40 to 45 minutes for the full sized pan, or 15-20 minutes for the mini cakes. If using a ring pan, invert pan onto neck of an empty wine bottle or a large metal funnel and cool cake completely.

Its really important not to try and remove the cake while its still hot. Even trying to remove the mini cakes from their papers is a bad idea until they’re fully cooled. Then it will be really easy to remove them from their papers, or remove the cake from the pan.

You can garnish your angel food cake however you like. My dad likes frosting, but you could use whipped cream and fresh berries, which is how I would typically dress my angel food cake, since its so delicious.

Enjoy!
-A.

Or is it?

I mean, come on people. Who doesn’t just ache for brownies every once in a while? I know I do.
Seriously.

Sometimes it gets so bad that I can’t sleep until I have them. I’ve been known to “sleep bake” otherwise known as “Objective:brownies. Opposition:cleanliness” And wake up when my someone (currently my husband, but back in the day, it could have been anyone, even a few confused roommates) nudging the Easy Chair that I’ve passed out in, with a plate coated in brownie smudges and crumbs, the only proof that the huge mess I left the kitchen was not in vain.

Sounds pretty pathetic. And, yeah. it kinda is.
But you all know you’ve done something similar at some point in your life.

Maybe you broke down and ordered a pizza at the last possible second for delivery, because not only were you too lazy to make dinner, but you were too lazy to even leave the house to get the dinner that you didn’t have to make yourself.  Maybe you went with the salad for lunch during that business meeting, when you reneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comally wanted to order everything on the menu, and now you’re home and the fridge is at your mercy. Food is making a B-line to your mouth without the aid of napkins, forks, plates or any other vessel which would facilitate transportation.

Hey, it happens.

A particular memory tracing back to one of my first “shared living” experiences comes to mind..

I was 20, and my previous living situation was a total failure. My EX-roommate lured me into living with her fairly easily, I’d been looking for a place to live, affordable rent, comfortable living situation, blah blah. I didn’t care where, what, or really how. So when she said I’d only be paying $250 a month plus half of the phone bill, I was ecstatic. I loaded up everything I could fit in my best friends truck, and moved into the cruddy little apartment that she was already occupying. Anything that didn’t fit in the truck was sent to goodwill, my friends, my parents. Whoever wanted whatever, really. I gave up a lot to live there.

Of course it was too good to be true.
The day after I moved in, she moved her internet boyfriend in, and although I had known she had recently given birth, and that were would be an infant in the house (this wasn’t a big deal to me at all, since I helped raise my little sisters who were about 7 years old at the present time) I was unaware that her “boyfriend” didn’t care for her child, so he would periodically leave the child in the bassinet  in the living room, and go out without saying a single word to me, when she was already gone. I’d discover this when I heard the door slam, and then heard his truck start (even though the parking area was a good 40 feet from my window, its hard to miss the sound of a hesitating engine) and then hear the baby crying.

Andrea to the rescue.

I also was not aware that she was on government assistance before I moved in, so surprise surprise when I wake up mid morning, exit my bedroom to go make myself something to eat and there is a naked woman walking around the house, no job to go to, and no wish to put a shirt on, either. I could have dealt with that had it not been for the fact that she wasn’t wearing pants, either.

I found out that my rent was going towards her smoking habit and that the state was paying for all of their food, even though both her and her boyfriend routinely ate all of my food despite my placing it both in my “side” of the fridge, but also writing my name on the top of the tupperware. One time I walked into the kitchen and discovered her boyfriend had eaten an entire pizza that I’d made the night before, planning on bringing it to a work potluck the next day.

There was so much more wrong with that living situation, but I’ve already gone on too far with this part of the story.

Needless to say, It wasnt a moment too soon when one of my co-worker friends asked if I wanted to rent a room in the house that he shared with some of his other friends. I’d met them all at parties and get togethers and whatnot. They all had confirmed jobs, lives, vehicles in working order, no children living in the house, and no significant others living in the house.

Sure, I’d be the only girl, but living amongst a group of the nerdiest men in the state of Washington, there was no cause for worry.

In actuality, it was the best living situation I’d ever been in at that point in my life. It was a nice house, my room was at the corner of the upstairs, and I could climb out my window and into a tree that they’d built a little platform on, because the previous tenant liked to go and read there.  The downstairs had red shag carpet, and the guys had every imaginable video game set up, including old school nintendo, dreamcast and the newest addition to the world of video games- the X-box. The rules were simple. Pay rent by the end of the first week of the month, don’t go into anyones room without asking (unless its to retrieve the housecat, which was understandable) Do your own dishes, make your own food, You were assigned one chore to keep up with, and if you didn’t like your chore, you could swap with Andy, the guy in charge. if you were a light sleeper and you needed to wake up early on Saturday mornings, consider doing it elsewhere, because friday night was party night.  Great rules. No problem. Perfect for me, being a 20 year old. And the rent was cheap. $350 a month, including all bills. My chore was weeding/gardening the flower beds around the house, which was not a problem at all, and kinda cool, actually.

I moved in and everything was awesome. I made quick friends with all the guys, sure.. I’d met them before, but only in passing really. My co-worker Josh spent half his time at the house and half at his girlfriend’s apartment. She’d come over a lot and we’d hang out. She was really cool. On Friday nights we sort of got elected to be the kitchen wenches for the parties. We didn’t really mind. She worked at a bar, so she would invite a bunch of her friends and they’d mix drinks and whatnot, and I’d cook and plate and set out food for everyone to eat. I know that doesn’t sound like great fun to a lot of people, but think about it for a minute.. I write a food blog, of course its fitting for me.

Everything was pretty peaceful until Winter hit. The big house was mighty drafty, and prone to leaks. My chore switched from gardening to living room cleanup, which wasn’t too bad, considering.

Most of the guys left the house the week of Thanksgiving. Andy told Josh it was up to me if Josh’s girlfriend stayed in the house over the holidays, since all of her family lived in Czechoslovakia, and I didn’t care, since I was probably going to spend the holidays with my parents anyways.

All was well, Josh and his girl battened down the hatches and spent Thanksgiving weekend home alone, and me and the guys set out to our own family functions.

I came back the day after most of the guys had returned. My first stop, the fridge. I don’t know why, but I was craving something, so I opened up the door and  lo and behold, a shining star amongst the rot and rust.. Just as I bent down to further investigate, Andy slid from around the corner and announced “DONT TOUCH MY FUDGE! Monks make that! My dad buys some every year during the holidays, and I want mine to last a while. DONT eat it.”

I giggled nervously, because sure.. I had just been leaning close to it, but I wasn’t planning on devouring it whole. It wasn’t mine, afterall. I told him no problem, and I had a diet sprite, which I know I had put there before the holiday, because none of the guys drank diet soda.

Unfortunately, though I’d moved on physically.. my mouth watered for that chocolatey goodness. Fudge? Made by monks?! It had to be heavenly. I held back, because I knew better. I went to my room and got out some cookbooks. A short trip to the grocery store just up the road and I returned with the makings of some delicious fudgy brownies.

…I spent all night making those things, just so I could eat one glorious bite before falling asleep. Knowing that in the morning I could pack them up and take them to work with me so I could dole them out amongst my co-workers, and then they too could bask in their glory.  And so it was. I ate one brownie, drank a glass of the communal milk (Andy kept the milk stocked as part of his rent payment. 4 guys and 1 girl, and a gallon of milk goes FAST.) and went off to bed, allowing the brownies to fully cool on the counter with some tinfoil over the top.

And I bet you know the ending of this story.

I woke up that morning, headed down to take my shower. I heard a commotion in the hallway, but I figured it was just one of the guys shooting airsoft guns at another one of the guys as a wakeup call of sorts. They did that ALL the time. I went back upstairs for a little while, came down to the livingroom to clean it up before heading off to work,  and I headed to the kitchen to plate and wrap up those brownies…

And there were crumbs… A small trail on the ground lead me to believe this was a snack and run. Not really shocked, but a little peeved, I turned around to see Andy, holding what appeared to be an entire pan sized brownie in his hand, a glass of milk in the crux of his elbow, a mouth full of brownie.  He didn’t run… at first.  But I got him back.

…That fudge really did taste heavenly.
Tonight wasn’t so much about the aching as it was about a slight craving. And just so you know, my husband <3’s brownies more than I do, so its worthy of note that after I made these brownies, I really only had like.. 3 of them. It was a small batch.. but mysteriously, the remaining 7 or so brownies (even the ones I left in the pan thinking “no one would ever look there!”) disappeared with nary a crumb left behind.

So I made the brownies. I made them with loving care, trying to create the perfect brownie. flaky top layers, Dense and un-cakey texture, crunchy (but not burnt) edges. and NO SOGGY CENTER!

Just to add to the experience, I added some caramel sauce to the top and gave it a swirl before baking..

A few minutes in the oven, a good shake and a poke to make sure the center was cooked, and it was time to go down to brownie town.

This was only about half the batch. My husband had already started in on what wasn’t plated here..

As you can see, they’re not completely perfect. The ones in the center were a little more soggy than I wanted, though they were completely baked.. (note the brownie on the bottom)

Some came out completely wonderful. All the brownies shown above were perfectly dense and moist without being soggy at all!

mmm… caramel…

This was my favourite brownie…

…as you can see.. I’ve already started eating it!

Caramell-Oh my god… Brownies-

1/2 cup butter
4 oz unsweetened chocolate (solid, not powder)
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 caramello candy bar (or other caramel filled candy bar)
1/4 cup caramel sauce

Preheat the oven to 375F
Grease the bottom of an 8″square baking pan.

Melt the butter and the unsweetened chocolate together, on top of a double boiler.
Stir in sugar, vanilla and salt.
Add eggs one at a time, followed by flour. Stir until just mixed (kind of like you would mix muffins) Chop the caramello into small pieces. This will be slightly messy, so do it on a clean plate, and then make sure to scrape all of that delicious caramel, along with the rest of the candy bar, into the bowl. Fold gently.

Scrape batter into prepared pan and smooth out the top. Drizzle the caramel sauce over the top of the brownies, zig zagging. Don’t worry about how pretty it is. Take a toothpick or a butter knife, and “cut” the top of the brownies so you make pretty swirls out of the caramel and brownie.

bake at 375F for 20-25 minutes, until the center is no longer wobbly and a toothpick comes out “kinda” Clean.

Allow the brownies to cool, if you can, before slicing them.

If you can’t wait until the brownies cool, then at least wait long enough to get a big frosty glass of milk to drink along with it!

-A.

I’d just like to preface this by saying that Yes, there is meat in this dish, but don’t worry, there aren’t any extreme closeups of it or anything. Sorry vegans, it was impossible to hide. I did my best. *smile*

I’m actually sort of surprised to see more food bloggers haven’t done anything to memorialize the series finale of The Sopranos yesterday.   If nothing else, its a great excuse to make some tasty Italian, or Italian American food.

At any rate, I was too busy last night watching the final episode and then debating with my husband what ACTUALLY HAPPENED, that we didn’t even eat dinner, let alone make theme food, photograph it and then blog about it.  But that was then, and this is now.

Tonight’s dinner is dedicated to the final episode (ever) of The Sopranos. I like to call it “A great big Italian American Mess”.

I’ll admit though, I had planned to make a Sopranos themed meal for this Main Course Monday since I found neverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comout when the final episode of The Sopranos was. I even had the name picked out. So now that I’ve actually SEEN the finale, I’ve come up with a more fitting name, based on the actual ingredients and the actual finale.

So you can either call this dish “A great big Italian American Mess” or, my preferred title-

“Philly got whacked”

It makes sense, since its basically a Philly Cheesesteak, minus the bun, topped with “baked” ziti.
(So I grilled the steak with onions, then boiled the ziti, mixed it with the tomato sauce and topped it with the cheese and mushrooms and everything else, so it wouldn’t be as fattening as traditional baked ziti, with all the cheese)

It also makes sense, since Phil Leotardo got whacked. Hehe..

Anywho, if you’re not a big fan of The Sopranos, or, God forbid, you’ve never seen or heard of it, I’m sorry. Just take the dish for what it is. A bunch of tasty Italian American food, on a plate. Its also fairly healthy, considering its ingredients. I used organic whole wheat pasta with flax seed,  and in addition to using a different “baked” ziti technique, I also used leaner cuts of meat , made my own fresh tomato sauce, and overall lowered the sodium content.

You see, I’d like to keep from looking like Bobby Bacala when he was Junior’s driver, or Vito Spatafore before he joined “The Fit Club”.  So I made a healthy dish. hehe..

Accompanying today’s main course, I made a cocktail we’re calling the “The pinky ring” A mixture of lemoncello, marachino cherry juice sparkling water and agave nectar that doesn’t taste like alcohol at all, amazingly enough. mmm..

So, I’ll leave you with this, a few parting words from the song played as the show came to a close…

“Strangers, waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people, living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Don’t stop believing”

This dish is pretty easy to make, I used premade pasta instead of making it myself, just to save some time.

Basically, its a deconstructed baked ziti dish on top of “philly” steak. No bun.
If you want to read the full description and story, click here to visit the Other blog. You know, the one with all my stories..

Anyways, here goes with the instructions-

To feed two hungry folks, you’ll need-

2 cups uncooked pasta (ziti or penne)
1 cup mozzarella
1/4 cup provolone
2 cups red sauce
1/2 cup sliced black olives
1 lb top sirloin
1 medium onion
3 small button mushrooms
2 cloves garlic
olive oil
sea salt

Boil the pasta as you would for any pasta dish. You don’t have to use ziti or penne, though it works best if you use a pasta that has a hole in it rather than spaghetti or linguine, since those really wont work for this dish.

While you’ve got the water getting ready to boil for the pasta, begin cooking your sirloin. Ideally you’ll start out with some thin sliced cuts, but if you need to, before you begin cooking, take a nice sharp knife and slice the steak as thin as you can get it. remember to cut against the grain, otherwise you’ll end up with chewy meat. When you begin cooking the beef, make sure the pan is hot, and well oiled with olive oil. Salt the meat lightly, season it however you like. I add some minced garlic to the pan while the oil is heating, and that adds a lot of flavour to the meat.

When the beef is done cooking, divide it into two parts and place it directly onto the plate it will be served on. Reserve any pan juices or oil for the onions and mushrooms. slice the mushrooms and You can either dice or slice the onions thiny. Caramelize them and add them to the top of the beef.

By now, the pasta should either be done, or starting to get there. after its finished boiling, strain it and then toss it in the pan with a bit of olive oil and whatever minced garlic you have left over. put it back on the burner (medium heat) and add the red sauce. I added some extra sundried tomatoes to my sauce, but this isn’t necessary. When the sauce starts to bubble a bit, spoon half of it ontop of each plate with the steak.

To each plate, sprinkle half of the sliced black olives and half of each cheese, either grated or diced. Add a dash of dried parsley for colour, and there you have it..

Philly got whacked.

In addition to the main course, I created a fun little cocktail that packs a big punch. We’re calling it “the pinky ring” (another mobster joke, but its also a bright pink colour)

To make two servings of the alcoholic version, you’ll need-

4 ounces limoncello
2 ounces vodka
2 ounces marachino cherry juice
1 tablespoon agave nectar (or sugar syrup)
6 ounces sparkling lime water
4 tablespoons fresh squeezed lemon juice

Mix well, serve chilled and garnished with a lemon slice and marachino cherry.

For the alcoholic version, just mix marachino cherry juice with lemonade made with sparkling water.

Buon Appetito!!

-A.

extra treats.   I got a bit of a late start today, I had some errands to do and after an entire week of pie, I honestly wasn’t looking forward to making any more. My objective originally in dedicating an entire week to pie, was to show more than a few fillings, shapes, and things that a person can make with pie pastry, as well as exploit some of the flavourful fruits of the season.

..It seemed only right that after I declare pie week, that my local grocery store shuts down the produce department, limiting my ability to actually use fresh produce.  Add to that, I’ve been carless for more than a week, so really- that was the only grocery store I had access to.

It seems as though pie week has been a bit of a disaster for me, personally. Maybe I would have been better off starting pie week in August, but who knows.

With all of that said, I decided that even though I didn’t really feel like it, I probably should complete pie week with at least one pie, if not a few other pie-neverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comish creations.

One of the requested pies for this week was Pecan, so I figured I might as well make one, despite the fact that just yesterday I made cashew butter tarts (btw, my husband brought the extras to work today and they were gobbled up in less than 15 minutes.)

So here it is- Pecan pie.

A crust closeup-

And don’t forget the delicious pecan filling…

I wasn’t able to get a slice photo today, we’re bringing the pie to a family function tomorrow, and we decided it would be a bit tacky to bring a pie minus one slice. hehe.. Just  imagine the photo of the inside of the butter tarts from yesterday, only with pecans instead of cashews. Its exactly like that.

When I was finished rolling the dough out for this pie, I realized I had entirely too much left over to just sprinkle some sugar on it, bake it and call it good.

We had a few apples that were about ready to go off, so I decided to make some little apple brown sugar hand pies.

They’re really tasty, with huge chunks of crunchy green apple and just a sprinkling of brown sugar and a few spices.

After I exhausted the apple supply, I noticed we still had a fair amount of pie crust left over. it was a bit more stretchy, since it was the end pieces that I’d gathered and rolled out a bit, so the soft flaky texture wasn’t there quite as much as a normal pie crust, but still, I’m not one to throw out a pound of dough for that reason alone..

It was dinner time, so I thought to use the pie crust as mini pizza crusts!

A little pasta sauce, some shredded mozzarella… A few of the mini pizzas had black olives, but my husband got to those before I could snap a photo..

All in all, I’ve learned a bit from Pie week.

1. Pies are best when necessary, not necessarily when planned.
2. You can’t rush pie crust perfection.
3. TIN FOIL TIN FOIL TIN FOIL!
4. There are three basic types of flour pie crusts. Cold, Hot and Oil.
Cold crust is prepared with chilled ingredients and ice water. The dough is a little harder to work with, but its soft and flaky when baked.
Hot crust is prepared with room temperature ingredients and boiling water. The dough is easier to work with for the first round, but if you try to roll the end pieces together to create something new, you’ll have a stretchy mess on your hands which is not suitable for pies, but perfect for pizzas.
Oil crust is similar to hot crust, only you use vegetable or olive oil instead of shortening, margarine or butter. It works in a pinch, and is great for tartlettes, but it doesn’t brown as nicely as the cold crust made with butter.

5. I will always prefer a cold crust made with butter. Hands down.

I figured out that despite even my die hard love of pie, not even I could keep up with a week of pies, and my freezer shows it. We’ve got half of each pie I’ve made this week wrapped up in the freezer, waiting for that summer day where nothing could taste better than a bit of berry or banana cream.

I hope you enjoyed pie week, It’ll probably be a while before any more pies come out of this house. Perhaps a tart or two, but a whole pie? Probably not for a while.

*Smile*

On with the recipe!

1 1/2 cups pecans
3 eggs
1/2 cup melted butter
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup organic corn syrup
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Basically, you just want to beat everything together very well. Add all of the ingredients except the pecans, whisk for about 3-4 minutes, add the pecans, toss them around in the liquid for a bit, then pour into your unbaked but prepared pie crust. Bake for about 20 minutes at 350, remove from the oven, cover the edges with foil, (careful, its hot and liquidy) and then put back in the oven for another 30-40 minutes. When its done, the center will be stiff and not sloshy. Allow to cool for a few hours before slicing and serving.

You can also make tarts with this same recipe, though I don’t know how many it will make, since I’ve not used this recipe for tarts before. depending on the size, I assume you’ll get about 20 or so.

So thats that.. Pecan pie. Tasteee…
Sort of like the ugly stepsister to the empanada, these are made with the leftover pie crust dough that we all end up with, wondering if we should just throw it out, or save it for some good use. Well, my friends.. this is that good use.

Baked, not fried. No fancy frills thrills or special technique, these little pies are full of big hearty apple chunks, a nice dose of cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar and butter. AND they’re portable.

of course, you could definately make pie crust specifically to make hand pies, but you gotta rough it up a bit. If you’re using fresh dough, roll it out once or twice, fold it and roll it out again. The dough will be much more sturdy this way.

Otherwise, gather your ends and pieces, add a little extra water, wad it up in a ball, roll it out with extra flour and cut some circles out, your choice on what size. I use a medium sized tupperware lid as my cutting guide, and it works great.

After I cut out as many rounds as I can out of my ends and pieces, usually about 10 or so, I flour them on both sides, dust ‘em off and let them sit for about 5 minutes while I make the filling.

Recipe for Down and dirty apple hand pie filling-
(as a gauge, one apple will fill about 3 medium hand pies, so the more pies you have, the more apples you’ll need.)

for 10 hand pies-

3 granny smith apples
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon organic corn syrup
the seeds from half a vanilla bean (or 1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract)
4 tablespoons salted butter

Peel, core, slice and chop the apples into roughly 1 inch slices. You can always chop them finer, but I like big hunks of apple in mine.

put the brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, corn syrup and vanilla bean (vanilla extract) in a bowl, and whisk it until combined. It’ll seem a little thick, but thats ok.

cut the butter into 10 equal pieces.

To fill, take one dough round and use a pastry brush to paint half of the round lightly with water. place roughly a tablespoon of the filling into the center, top with pinch of apples (4 or 5 pieces for the size I made) and top with one piece of butter. fold the pastry in half, making sure that the filling stays inside the dough. Pinch the edges tightly, rolling the dough over itself and pressing it down into the pie. make sure the edges are sealed very well. put a few slits in the top of the pie so it wont explode in the oven, and place it on a cookie sheet that you’ve lined with foil or parchment paper. repeat for all of the pastry rounds. Brush the tops of the hand pies with milk and sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top. bake at 350 for 10-15 minutes, or until the pies have turned golden brown.

Just a word of warning about these pies. Do not attempt to take a bite out of one until its’ sat on the counter for a few minutes. 10 or so, should do it. If you’re in a hurry and simply cannot wait, put it on a plate and put it in the freezer for about 2 minutes. The filling is VERY HOT. You’ve all read the disclaimer on the McDonalds apple pie box “caution: filling is hot” yeah. its true. For these especially, since they’re made with natural ingredients and will be a little more saucy.

But they’re really good. They store well, and are great to make and put in kids lunches, or even adults lunches. My husband always enjoys finding one in his lunch box. hehe..

And of course, you can substitute many different fruits for the apples. Pears, Peaches, apricots, any of those fruits taste good with the filling recipe.

Enjoy your hand pies!

-A.

 Cashew butter tarts…

There is just something special about a tiny little pie that you get to eat all by yourself.

I’m not sure exactly when my love of the tiny pie began, probably back during childhood, when it was so very important to have MY OWN things, so having my own little tart seemed so much more special than just a regular slice of pie. It had the entire sum of its boarders, unbreached. I was free to slice it into tiny little slices if I cared to, and eat each Lilliputan slice with as much vim and vigor as I would a regular sized slice, which, to be honest, probably had more volume than the entire tart. It was about the principle, however, and the kind of kid I was would definately have chosen to have my own tart rather than share, no matter the size difference.

I’ve always kind of liked miniatureneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.com things anyways. Tiny teapots are so much cuter than their full sized compatriots. Between the ages of 6 and 10, I refused to use full sized utensils, choosing to use the miniature toddler sized version of silverware that my parents had kept since I was a baby, even though they were much less efficient in getting the food from the plate to my mouth. I had doll houses and made little sailing ships out of walnut shells. Even now, I love making tiny foods and serving them to full sized people. Its just more fun.

There was this one time, when my mom took us to the opening of a brand new wonderbread factory store, and they were giving out these tiny little loaves of sliced bread. They were only about 6 inches long, and completely to scale in every way. They even had tiny little wonderbread bags that looked just like the larger sized ones.

I didn’t want to eat it. I wanted to keep it forever, and I probably would have- if my old sister hadn’t chased me around the entire yard trying to steal mine from me.

I ended up tripping on a plant in the side yard and landing on top of the loaf of bread, squishing it beyond even wonderbread’s ability to spring back into shape. This would mark the first time I would cry over sliced bread. (though future incidents involve the breadslicer, and not the bread that was sliced itself.)

My mom tried to make it better, and she made me an entire miniature meal that night for dinner. Sure, they were just tiny hamburgers and itty bitty french fries.. with a cute little miniature apple pie for dessert. It probably took less than half of the apple to fill the pie, but I loved it. She even sliced it into tiny slices for me, though I got to eat the entire thing.

So today I made these Cashew butter tarts. They’re almost like candy, they’re so tasty. Barely a handful, but with enough flavour to satisfy your craving for an entire pie.

…Its a good thing these travel well, ’cause if I don’t get them out of my house, I’m going to eat them all. *smile*

Sort of a mish mosh of recipes, this little tart tastes just like candy, but with a perfect balance of sweet and salty, crunchy and smooth, flaky and dense.

I used my Blue Ribbon Crust recipe for the tart shells, only I cut out smaller rounds and used a regular sized muffin tin to bake them in. This recipe will make about 24 tarts.

For the filling, I whisked together-

1/2 cup butter, melted
1 cup organic corn syrup
1 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
a dash of salt
3 eggs
1 cup salted cashew halves and pieces

No need to temper the eggs, just whisk the mixture together and fill each tart shell about halfway full.

Bake at 350 for 10 minutes and for another 10 minutes at 300 degrees.

Allow the tarts to cool slightly before removing them from the tin, otherwise you’ll burn your tongue when you try and shove them down your throat. The smell of them baking is enough to drive you crazy. So buttery and beautiful, the whole experience is perfect.

See why I like pies? they’re super easy, and way tasty.

-A.