We Be Jammin'

Anyone who knows me knows that I really hate summer for the most part. Put a big white girl in the heat and humidity, and boy does she get crabby and out of sorts. Walk outside, and within 20 minutes, I am a lobster. SPF 75 doesn't cut it for me. There is also nothing like trickles of sweat running down my body (in places when I was thin I couldn't even imagine existed) to make a big girl just love the summer. Yes I just said that out loud. Just tryin' to keep it real. Yes I just said that, too. Ok, I'll stop now. I promise.

However, summer does bring with it things that this big girl loves, too. Funnel cakes, for example, and mini donuts, corn on the cob, fried things on a stick (only in MN would we deep fat fry a Snickers bar), pork burgers, sno-cones, homemade ice cream, fairs and town celebrations (ask me about the Polka festival sometime -- yes, I polka. Don't knock it. It's a gift that comes in handy when you're drunk and at weddings. Trust me.), cool night walks, and most importantly, the fresh fruit. For the most part, I really don't like to eat fruit. But summer fruit and I have a special, special relationship. Oh, the berries, the sweet, juicy strawberries. The tiny, soft, lovely raspberries. The ripe, luscious peaches. Oh my. As my friend D. would say, somewhere there is a bottle of Tequila involved and she's likely screaming "inappropriate" at me. Ok, maybe at M. Maybe at both of us. It's worth it, my sweet, sweet berries...

Anyway, I got sidetracked for a second. I'm back. It was hot today, and my neighbors moved out really early this morning. Perhaps I'm delusional. Back to my point -- the berries. Earlier this summer, stubborn as I am, I managed to track down the last of the strawberry crop in a 3 state area (my research skillz are the bomb -- for berries, not for my dissertation). They were, hands down, the sweetest berries I think I've ever had. Minnesota berries are the best, I don't care what anyone else says. I made 28 jars of jam from those strawberries. I will never be the same.

I didn't get a picture of those, but I did catch the jamming bug. Bob Marley would be proud. So, after all my company left today and I cleaned up my kitchen, I decided, at 10 pm, to make some jam. No one ever claimed I was smart or logical, least of all me.

If you look closely at the pictures, yes, I cheated. I bought Driscoll's berries from the store. This was my trial run. If I like the jam, I'll go buy local berries. I found a couple of places to go for berries -- perhaps here or maybe here -- we'll see what happens. But, the test run was tonight. I'll give you the low-down on it in the next couple of days.

Ophelia oversaw the project, as you can see from the picture. She disapproved of my mashing methods, but otherwise I think she thought we did ok. I also think she didn't like me singing country to her, though I thought the Dixie Chicks were appropriate for jam-making. She's an alternative kinda girl, I think. Poor Ophelia.

As you can see, the fruit didn't yield much jam, but that's ok. Ophelia says to stay tuned for a peach pie soon -- Eckert's are in season, so a trip will be coming soon! If you want some jam, drop a line!

Strawberry-Rhubarb "I Want to Strangle a Chapter of my Diss" Crisp

The other day I saw rhubarb at our local Mejier. Now, my mother always told me not to get rhubarb past the 4th of July, but it looked really good and I hadn't had hardly any rhubarb this summer. It's kind of a past-time -- we always have rhubarb at our house during the summer. I remember Mom going out and getting some, making rhubarb crisp, the tang and the sweet melting in with the vanilla ice cream we always ate it with. It always made the house smell, distinctly, a little like a sweet tart. I think I was looking for a piece of home, maybe some comfort food. As you can tell from the title, I am ready to strangle my second chapter of my dissertation. I am going over it with my dissertation director tomorrow, so we'll see what happens.

Anyway, instead of working on the chapter, like I should have been doing, I made this crisp. It turned out really well, if I do say so myself. Yum! You'll see the cast of characters at the top -- pretty, diced rhubarb and sliced strawberries. It's an easy recipe, really, and apparently fool-proof. The last time I tried a cobbler-like dessert, it looked like I'd cooked it for four hours, and tasted like it, too. What a waste of expensive fruit that was.:P But, this one, this one has my vote of confidence.

Ophelia got a break with this one, for the most part. This crisp called for my trusty old pastry cutter. There is something really satisfying about using a pastry cutter. I think I like what it represents -- you separate the parts of many things to make a different thing from the parts. Plus, this crust and topping had a ton of butter -- hello, Paula Deen, it's nice to meet you. No I did not sneak a taste. Not at all. I wouldn't do such a thing. I come by this figure naturally, of course.

Ophelia did play a supporting role in this ensemble, mixing the cornstarch, water and sugar for the glaze mixture. I think she was happy to not be in the spotlight for this one, to tell you the truth. All the attention was making her uncomfortable, so she thought she'd share the limelight.

I really liked this recipe for the most part. I didn't have the 9 inch square pan that the recipe called for, so I used an 8 inch pan and just cooked it 10-15 min. longer. It turned out just fine. Just fine enough that I haven't shared it with anyone. Whoops. Maybe that's my mentality with my dissertation? Maybe?

Strawberry-Rhubarb "I Want to Strangle a Chapter of My Diss" Crisp
adapted from allrecipes.com

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup quick-cooking oats
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 cup butter
4 1/2 cups sliced fresh or frozen rhubarb
2 cups fresh strawberries, quartered
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
3/4 cup water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a bowl, combine the first four ingredients; cut in butter until crumbly. Press 1/3 into an ungreased 9-in. square baking pan (see my comment above for what I did instead -- I'll have to try with a 9-in square pan yet). Combine rhubarb and strawberries; spoon over crust. In a saucepan, combine sugar and cornstarch. Stir in the water and vanilla; bring to a boil over medium heat. Cook and stir for 2 minutes. Pour over fruit. Sprinkle with remaining crumb mixture. Bake at 350 degrees F for 1 hour (1 hour 10-15 min. if in a 8-in square pan). Serve with ice cream if desired (it would also be good with homemade whipped cream). The crust does get a little bit soggy, but I found that if you only put a 1/3 of the crumb mixture in the bottom of the pan (the original recipe called for 1/2), it gets a little bit more crispy. It's also good to serve this to people right away. Enjoy!

She's a Doctor...

Just an update -- my friend D. is now Dr. D.! I am SO, SO proud of her! The cake was a success, just as she is.

Watching one of your very best friends achieve one of her major life goals = priceless.

A Labor of Love...

Cooking and baking, for me, are labors of love. And, man, that's a cause Ophelia can get behind.

Case in point: I am SO proud of my friend D. She defends her dissertation on Monday, and I know she will be just awesome. I wanted to do something for her defense, so I told her I'd make a cake. She has requested a Chocolate Raspberry cake, so today, I did a trial run. I had my good friends/celebrity taste testers K and P try it. The reviews were favorable, so I thought I'd post the recipes and antics here.

Now, I must admit that this is the first double-layered cake I've made. And, like all things new, I had some snafus. I broke the cake trying to put it on the pedestal. Then, I put waxed paper, meant to keep me from making a mess on the plate while frosting, too far under the cake, and broke off a chunk trying to remove it. I was also afraid Ophelia might rebel. The dough was thick, the steps many. She talked about walking, but decided that, since I asked her very nicely and promised to sing to her, she'd cooperate.

As you can see from the pictures above that chronicle our cake baking, we had some fun together. Yes, I do wear headphones while I bake. Likely, I was rocking out to Bon Jovi. Don't knock it till you try it. Really gets the creativity flowing. This was also my first experience with egg whites. Folding is harder than it looks, my friends.

Then, the baking -- bake, babies, bake! Likely at that point, I was dancing around the kitchen, singing Prince. Cakes like Prince. Don't ask why, just trust and try it. Ok, maybe it's for me -- he is, after all, a Minnesota boy.

They came out so pretty, don't you see? No, I know nothing about the cake with the smiley face. If you find the individual who picked the crunchy, chocolate-y goodness topping off so they could have a taste without ruining things, Ophelia offers a reward.

And, ah, the end result. I've turned it around so you can't see the broken side. And, now I've let my secret out of the bag. Cake Part Deux tomorrow!

Deep Chocolate Raspberry Cake
(recipe modified from Epicurious.com)

8 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (I used Ghiradelli)
4 one-ounce squares bittersweet chocolate (again, Ghiradelli)
7 eggs, seperated
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup butter
2 cups white sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Filling:
1 pt. raspberries, crushed
4 tablespoons seedless raspberry jam

Frosting:
6 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (once more, Ghiradelli -- I should own stock, or at least get a fee for promotion, no?)
3/4 c. heavy whipping cream

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F. Line bottom of 2 9-inch cake pans with parchment paper. Melt chocolate in microwave, stirring in 30 second intervals until melted. Cool, and beat in egg yolks. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, beat together beat butter or margarine, 1 1/2 cups sugar, and vanilla until light and fluffy. Add chocolate mixture, and continue beating until smooth. Stir in flour until just combined. In another bowl, beat egg whites until foamy. Gradually beat in 1/2 cup sugar, and continue beating until the whites hold soft peaks. Fold whites into chocolate batter, in three additions. Pour batter into prepared pans, and smooth tops. Bake until a toothpick stuck into the centers of the cakes comes out with moist crumbs, about 45 minutes. Cool in pans.

To Make Frosting: In a saucepan, bring cream just to a boil. Chop 6 ounces semisweet chocolate, and stir into the cream. Remove saucepan from heat, and continue stirring until smooth. Pour frosting into bowl, and press sheet of plastic wrap directly against surface of chocolate to prevent formation of a skin. Refrigerate until thick enough to spread.

To Make Filling: Crush raspberries and combine with the jam. Sandwich the cake layers with raspberry filling. Spread top and sides with chocolate frosting.

Notes -- be very careful with the cakes -- they are dense and fudgy, and oh so good, but very, very hard to handle and not break. I wasn't as careful as I should have been and broke the bottom layer in three places. I placed the first layer top-side up, and the second layer top-side down, so that the filling connected with both of the crusty tops. This worked well, I think, because it allowed some of the raspberry filling to absorb into the cake, but not a huge amount to make it soggy. Make sure you can place the cake in the refridgerator for at least an hour before serving to make cutting easier. Enjoy!

Ophelia says to stay tuned for our strawberry-rhubarb crisp -- it's batter bowl scraping good!

The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship...

Welcome to my new blog, chronicling my undying love and affection for my new, shiny, lovely Kitchenaid mixer Ophelia (see my account information for more on how Ophelia was named) and all things foodie (I'm sure there will also be snippets of life around here, as well). Yes, I'm jumping on the food blog wagon. Now, if it's anything like 4th grade and the Oregon Trail, I am going to kick ass at this.

Now, those of who you know me, know that I have a bit of an obsession with Ina Garten (Barefoot Contessa) and her amazing powers of food awesome. Yesterday, I made her chicken piccata with her roasted vegetable orzo salad. And then I spent the rest of the night in a lemon-induced Ina stupor. My friends topped the night off with brownies and this killer cookie dough frosting (P., I need this recipe, hint hint:). This was a good thing, as we then went to see Momma Mia. What a sour end to the night, although the music and company was good. So, I came home and baked. And then I baked some more the next day, as well. ABBA said to take a chance, so I thought I would. Story as follows:

Again, those of you who know me also know my consternation with cookies. I can bake bars like Martha Stewart on crack. Pies and cakes have nothing on these meaty Midwestern hands. But, cookies. Cookies, my friends, are the place in the trail where, instead of hiring a guide to get across the river, I consistently try to ford it myself, and sink every time. Every time I think it's going to be different. Every time I flunk out. I burn them, or leave them doughy. I make them uneven and flat, almost disgusting. How do you make disgusting chocolate chip cookies? Talent, I tell you. Talent and sheer dumb ass bad luck. Chocolate chip cookies are, quite literally, the bain of my existence. They taunt me in my sleep, the bag of chips calling me names from my kitchen and daring me to try to make them again. Never one to forgo a challenge, I always answer. I've tried the recipe on the back of the Toll House bag of chips, in my Good Housekeeping cookbook, on AllRecipes.com, from my family's own recipe stash. None of them have been successful. I made three, count them three, batches last night. All of them are not great. One is marginal, the other two down right ridiculous. Back to the drawing boards. Anyone have a great chocolate chip cookie recipe and dummy-proof instructions they'd care to share? Ophelia would appreciate it.

Signed,

Cookie Monster

PS -- to tide you over until I post some food pron, above is a picture of Ophelia at the start of our inappropriate relationship (read: my undying love, admiration and worshiping at poor Ophelia's shrine). Ophelia had no idea what she was getting into. My amazing friends have created a baking monster. At least I love her a lot.