blowing hot and cold

Where does the time go? I can't believe summer is already winding down. Here are two side dishes, one hot and one cold, that I shall miss terribly when the summer bounty is no more.


On the cool side of things, we have this salad, which was directly inspired by a recipe from Kalyn of Kalyn's Kitchen. Resistance was futile since it contained both cilantro (my all-time favorite herb) and avocado, and fortuitously, I happened to have everything in the ingredient list. My only adjustment was the addition of diced banana peppers.


(note to self: a green bowl is not a helpful picture-taking aid)

The tomatoes you see (including that gorgeous yellow one) are from my "garden" (or rather, my tomato patch, since that's all I'm able to grow...). I might be a bit biased, but they're some of the best tomatoes that have ever passed between my lips.


(the fact that the tomato has buttocks just made it that much better...)

It's a delightful little side dish, refreshing and perfect for summer--thanks, Kalyn!

Side dish number two is based on a saute created by Chuck of Sunday Nite Dinner. While that dish made use of okra and basil, I again used banana peppers and cilantro. After sauteing, I also tossed in some red cabbage for color and crunch. It's pretty purty, ain't it?


The tomatoes I used in this dish came from my brother's garden back in good ol' Virginia. They're called Black Russians, and they are delectable. By delectable, I mean extremely juicy, perfectly sweet, and just the right acidity for my tastes.


Since these Black Russians are so phenomenal, I'm sending this dish to Ramona at The Houndstooth Gourmet for her You Say Tomato, I Say Tomahto event. Tomatoes rule.

Meanwhile, I was just opining to Pam of Sidewalk Shoes that someone needed to compose an ode to the wonder that is cilantro. So, without further adieu, here's my cilantro haiku (hey, even that rhymes--perhaps I'm a poet, after all...):

Green, verdant, pungent.
You can improve any dish.
Without you, I cry.

Hmm...perhaps not.

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like riding a bike...

...but much more rewarding.


In return for sharing the goods from his garden with me, I offered to make my friend from work whatever his heart desired. His response was immediate: blackberry pie, made with the berries he planned to pick that weekend. (Apparently I've built my reputation as a competent baker since he didn't seem to doubt for a second that I could do it.)


(driiiiiiiip)

The berries he picked were gorgeous, but of course, the filling wasn't my major concern. Made-from-scratch pie crusts can be fickle beasts and the risk of failure is always looming. I'm pretty confident of my tried-and-true recipe, but since I hadn't made it for, oh, about a year, I was understandably apprehensive. (You may recall when I wimped out not too long ago...)


Good news--everything turned out fine. I know you're relieved. I sure was. Although I didn't get a taste, my friend said that he first ate a modest slice, decided to have a bit more, and ended up eating a third of the pie in one sitting. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Ah, the power of pie.


(so flaky)

My crust recipe uses all shortening, and it's the only recipe I've ever tried. The result is a very flaky, very tender, very delicious creation. I think I'll branch out next time and try half shortening, half butter, as I've read that the butter really imparts a terrific flavor. (Well duh, Grace--how could it not?)


Breathtaking and Blissful Blackberry Pie
(a fantastic fusion of this and this)

5 cups blackberries, the more gorgeous the better
1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons lemon juice
pie crust (see below)

In a large bowl, gently toss the blackberries with the sugar. In a small bowl, combine the cornstarch, salt, and lemon juice to make a slurry. Add the slurry to the berries and gently toss to coat. Take care not to crush the berries, for they are quite sensitive and fragile. Let this mixture sit for about 15 minutes.

My Go-To Pie Crust
(an amazing amalgam of a recipe from a card that came with my Longaberger pie plate and Cooking Light)

2 c flour
1/2 T sugar
3/4 tsp salt
3/4 c shortening, chilled
1 small egg, beaten
1/2 T vinegar
1/4 c ice water

In a large bowl, sift together flour, sugar, and salt. With a pastry blender or 2 knives, cut in the shortening until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Mix together egg, vinegar, and ice water; add to the flour mixture. Mix until the dough is moist enough to form a ball--you may not need all the liquid. Wrap in plastic and chill for 30 minutes.

Divide dough in half. Gently press each half into a 4-inch circle on 2 sheets of overlapping plastic wrap; cover with 2 additional sheets of overlapping plastic wrap. Roll 1 dough half, still covered, into a 12-inch circle. Roll the other dough half, still covered, into an 11-inch circle. Place the dough in the freezer for about 10 minutes or until the plastic wrap can be easily removed.

To assemble pie:
Preheat oven to 425°F.

Remove the top 2 sheets of plastic wrap from the 12-inch dough circle; fit dough, plastic wrap side up, into a 9-inch deep-dish pie plate coated with cooking spray, allowing the dough to extend over the edge. Remove remaining plastic wrap. Toss the berries once more and then pour into dough. Brush the edges of the dough lightly with water.

Remove the top 2 sheets of plastic wrap from the 11-inch dough circle; place, plastic wrap side up, over filling. Remove remaining plastic wrap and press the edges of the dough together. Fold edges under, and flute. Cut 4 slits into the top of the pastry using a sharp knife. If you're feeling fancy, brush the top and edges of the pie with milk and sprinkle with sugar.

Place the pie on a baking sheet and bake at 425°F for 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F (do not remove pie from oven), and bake an additional 40 minutes or until golden. Cover the edge of the crust with aluminum foil if it begins to get too brown. Cool on a wire rack for as long as possible. Serve with vanilla ice cream. Seriously. That's a direct order.

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wax on, wax off

I had a thought-provoking drive to work yesterday morning, for three reasons.

(Two for the price of one--my kind of ear of corn!)

First, I saw not one, not two, but three partner-less shoes strewn along the Thruway. How does this happen? How does one shoe find its way out the window? I find it completely baffling, yet see it all the time.

Second, the morning djs on my favorite radio station are idiots. They were making fun of one of their interns because he thought Washington D.C. was located in the state of Washington. Yeah, that's pretty bad, but when he asked them where it really was, they unanimously declared that it was in Virginia. Dolts.

Finally, I was passed by one of the most unique vehicles I've ever seen. The vehicle itself wasn't unique--it was a plain ol' minivan. No, what made it unique was the set of what had to be moose antlers adhered to the roof. I laughed out loud, and I'm still chuckling about it.


Here's a poser--who would want to eat a bean that's reminiscent of wax? The name just doesn't sound particularly appetizing.

One of my co-workers has a lovely garden and he has recently taken pity on me and offered to share his bounty. My first bag of goodies contained a few cucumbers, several banana peppers, and a whole bunch of yellow wax beans.

Here's my dilemma, folks: I've never before dealt with wax beans. I was raised on green beans--the kind with lots of strings (do you call them string beans?) that you snap into bite-size pieces (perhaps you call them snap beans). I'm not sure what to do with these little yellow sticks and will gladly accept any suggestions you might have.


In the meantime, watch out for mutant corn, rogue shoes, stupid radio personalities, and armed minivans.

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a happy accident

Remember those s'more bars? I'm sorry to report that they didn't turn out quite as well as I let on...


...but they ultimately became something better.

Yes, my friends, I'm sorry to say that you've been deceived. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Although those bars looked fabulous and tasted great initially, they were rock hard the next day. Not even the microwave could return them to an edible form. So, I did what any frustrated cook would do. I dumped 'em into a bag and beat the fire out of them with my rolling pin. The results of this momentary loss of calm were a glistening layer of sweat, a renewed sense of peace, and a bag full of buttery graham cracker-chocolate chunk clumps and crumbs.


Now what? Since I refused to waste the bag full of goodies, I began to look for recipes requiring graham cracker crumbs that wouldn't be fouled up by the presence of those globs of chocolate. (I picked the marshmallows out and ate them myself.)(This also helped with the recovery from the temporary tantrum.) I finally found an Oatmeal Breakfast Cake that I decided could be mangled to suit my needs.

Frankly, the cake couldn't have turned out any better. It smelled exactly like brownies, but had the texture and appearance of cake. It's too bad I couldn't preserve some for posterity because I'm sure I'll never be able to replicate it, and it truly was a delicious creation.


Because this is clearly an original recipe, forged out of frustration and desperation, I'm submitting it to Lore from Culinarty for her Original Recipes roundup.


Salvage Cake

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup quick oats
1 cup previously rock-hard, crushed s'more bar base
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 cup buttermilk (or 1 cup milk + 1 tablespoon lemon juice, left to sit for 5 minutes)
3 eggs
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1 cup chocolate chunks from s'more bars

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Coat a bundt pan with cooking spray.
In a large bowl, combine the flour, oats, demolished s'more bar base, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, cranberries, and chocolate chunks.
In a separate bowl, whisk together the oil, buttermilk, and eggs. Add this buttermilk mixture to the dry ingredients and stir until combined.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the cake in the pan for 5 minutes, then extract it and leave it to cool completely on a wire rack.


(Good thing I got my slab early--this was all that remained after sitting out for less than an hour at work.)

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taste & create, lucky number xiii

I don't consider myself to be a superstitious person (although I do tend to knock on wood quite frequently, just in case). I don't toss spilled salt over my shoulder or fret about breaking a mirror. I boldly walk under ladders and encourage black cats to cross my path. And fortunately, I have no problem with the number 13.


It's fortunate in this case because this round of Taste & Create, run by Nicole of For the Love of Food is #13. I was paired with Katie from One Little Corner of the World. Her blog is full of useful and delicious recipes, and even some great tips for entertaining.

I chose to make her Blue Corn Flapjacks. Pancakes of any kind remind Katie of her grandfather and the huge buckwheat pancakes he'd make for her every Saturday. This struck a chord with me because while my brothers and I were growing up, my family had pancakes every Sunday. It was Mamboree's duty for years, and then I took over. So like Katie, I'll probably always associate pancakes with family.


Katie was the recipient of some authentic blue cornmeal from Mexico, but I wasn't so lucky (perhaps it was that salt I spilled yesterday or that mirror I broke back in '97...). I went to two grocery stores and two other stores and finally found some blue cornmeal at Dollar General, of all places. Unfortunately, I don't think its source was blue corn. No, I suspect it was regular cornmeal dyed blue (the presence of FD&C Blue No. 1 in the ingredient statement was a bit of a clue).


Regardless of the source for that cornmeal and in spite of the resulting neon blue hue, the flapjacks were quite tasty. They were fluffy and soft and super absorbent, which I consider an important quality for my pancakes. The more maple syrup they can suck up, the better.

Thanks to you, Katie, I now have a bag of scary blue cornmeal and a killer corn flapjack recipe.

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gimme s'more or gimme...

...anything else, really.


I'm sorry. I don't like s'mores. I love each component separately (especially ooey, charred, wood-flavored marshmallows), but together they create a sloppy, difficult-to-enjoy dessert.

S'more bars, on the other hand, make my complaints irrelevant--the mess factor is completely gone. The brittle graham cracker that always breaks and usually fails to keep a s'more together is reduced to crumbs. The slab of chocolate is nicely ensconced in those crumbs. The marshmallow, although not charred or wood-flavored, is contained but still gooey and delicious. Wonderful.


(peekaboo!)

The graham cracker crumbs that I ultimately used came from a sample of chocolate graham cookies that I got from work (hooray for perks!). I used toasted coconut marshmallows because a)that's all I had, b)I love coconut, and c)obviously, the "toasted" part would lend itself to a more authentic s'more experience.


Finally, and most importantly, the chocolate I used (in combination with some semi-sweet chocolate chips) was the last of my Amano stash. It was their Cuyagua bar, said to have notes of spice and melon. Oops--maybe not the most appropriate for this dessert, but nevertheless decadent and intoxicating.


In order to correctly enjoy these bars, they really should be eaten immediately, while the marshmallows and the chocolate are still slightly melted. I guess the microwave could be used in a pinch, since eating an entire batch at once probably wouldn't end well for anyone (unless there was a money prize involved).


Coconut S’more Bars
(adapted from this recipe)

1 3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs, divided
1/4 cup sugar
8 tablespoons butter, melted, divided
12 ounces chocolate, whichever degree of darkness floats your boat
approximately 20 large coconut marshmallows, halved

Put 1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and 6 tablespoons melted butter in a 11 x 9-inch baking dish. Using a fork or your fingers, mix well and then press into the dish. Bake at 350°F for 7 minutes or until it begins to brown on the edges.
Distribute the chocolate evenly across the surface of the crust. Put the dish back into the oven for 5 minutes or until the chocolate has melted enough to be evenly spread across the crust.
Once the chocolate is spread, add enough marshmallows to cover the chocolate. Put the dish back in the oven and allow it to cook for 5 minutes or until the marshmallows puff up and turn golden brown on the edges.
Remove the dish from the oven and spread the marshmallows so they evenly cover the surface. Combine 2 tablespoons butter and 1/4 cup graham cracker crumbs in a bowl and sprinkle mixture across the surface. Bake for 10 minutes or until golden brown, bubbly, gooey, and irresistible.

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gingammonbread

Here's a Friday morning poser for you (TGIF, by the way): Why is it called gingerbread when the ingredients call for just as much cinnamon as ginger? That's cinnamon discrimination, and I won't stand for it! Henceforth, I shall refer to any such creation as gingammonbread instead.


This gingammonbread is particularly unique because it's made with a sourdough starter. That's right, Eb is back again. I'm really trying to find every possible usage for a sourdough starter, and I was delighted to find a recipe for sourdough gingammonbread. It has all the necessary components--ginger, cinnamon, and molasses--with the added use of a starter.


I must confess that I'm not too keen on gingammonbread. The culprit is the molasses--the taste just makes my face scrunch up (quite an unattractive look, I assure you). (There does seem to be one exception to my distaste for molasses and that, oddly enough, is molasses cookies. I'm not sure what it is about them, but the flavor of the molasses just doesn't bother me. But I digress.) As far as gingammonbread goes, this was good. The sourdough flavor wasn't too strong, it just made the other flavors a little more complex. It was also extremely moist, which I consider a good thing in cake-type breads.

My beloved Mamboni always tops her gingammonbread with a lemon glaze, so I went ahead and did that too. As it turns out--surprise, surprise--the Mambourine does, in fact, know best. The glaze made all the difference. Good call, Mammy.


(I wouldn't mind a dip in that pool...)

The person responsible for the original recipe called it Alaskan Sourdough Gingerbread, but since I'm not Alaskan and since I don't condone cinnamon discrimination, I've renamed it as I see fit.

Virginian Sourdough Gingammonbread
(adapted from this recipe)

1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
1/2 cup molasses
1 egg
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
2 teaspoons ginger
1/2 cup hot water
1 cup Eb-like creation

1 1/4 cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1-2 tablespoons water, if needed

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Grease up a 8x8-inch baking dish or mini loaf pan.
In a large bowl, cream together the brown sugar and butter. Add the molasses and egg, beat until well blended, and set aside.
In a separate bowl, combine the dry ingredients and blend into the hot water. Warning--you'll end up with a gloppy mess. Beat this mess into the creamed mixture like there's no tomorrow. Gradually add your Eb, mixing carefully to maintain a bubbly batter.
Pour into the prepared pan and bake for about 30 minutes or until the toothpick test is passed.
For the icing, whisk the lemon juice into the powdered sugar and gradually add the water, if needed. Spread over the cooled gingammonbread and try to let it set before cutting.

P.S. Please visit this post on my good friend Katie's site, The Kitchen and Beyond. She needs to pick your brains for some good frozen entree ideas.

P.P.S. I'm submitting this to Sunita for her Think Spice event, celebrating its one-year anniversary. Cinnamon rules.




P.P.P.S. Did you know that Julia Child was once a covert operative? My respect for her just grew even more.

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