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exploding happiness

Published June 29, 2011 pig slop , sweets 3 Comments
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My college roommate Jennifer worked her way through school with a part time job at a balloon shop. She spent her Saturday afternoons blowing up and delivering wild helium filled bouquets. Jenn often returned from work and adorned the apartment with colorful, stray stragglers. It was generally a very happy place. It didn’t happen too often, but every once and a while, if there was a big mix-up on an order, she’d arrive home with a whole carload of balloons. I loved the occasional big mix-ups. We had a big mix-up routine.

We’d toss our rollerblades in the trunk, drive the few miles over to St. Paul’s Como Lake, and get to work. Dividing the bunch in half, we’d set out in opposite directions around the lake path to bestow our wares on random strangers. People loved it. Everyone smiled. Couples, little kids, adults – even surly teens. We’d meet up again in the middle, empty handed, and skate back to the car. Sure, it was fun handing them out, but the best part came when we turned back to see all those colorful balloons bobbing their way around the lake. Mission accomplished.
I am proud to report that Jennifer now wears latex on her hands instead of filling it with helium. She is a successful dentist in Anchorage, Alaska. Yup, those balloons saw her all the way through dental school. Sadly, we haven’t seen each other since my wedding, but I still think of her fondly. Especially when I have something really happy to share with the world. Which happened to be the case the other day. I wanted to make a simple treat. Nothing complicated, nothing too heavy or too sweet. You know, just a little smackerel of something for tea time. I should note that it actually got warm enough this week to brew a jar sun tea. I wanted to celebrate with the perfect accompaniment.
I decided to try making some sort of honey bar. And the result was everything I was looking for. They are light and custardy and subtle. There is nothing fancy about them. They aren’t even particularly memorable. But when I bite into one, I feel good. Like a little bit of happiness just exploded in my mouth. And then it’s gone – almost as quietly as it came. But sometimes that’s okay with sweets. I imagine this is the sort of bar you could hand out to just about anyone and they would like it. You don’t have to worry about people who don’t care for nuts, or lemon, or berries, or chocolate (people like that don’t really exist, do they?). My rollerblades and I parted company many moves ago, but If I still had them, I might even set off around the Bayfield peninsula with a pan of honey bars in tow to test my theory.
I’m not sure exactly what occurred during the baking process, but it is almost like the crust and the filling traded places. Still it works. And the bars are just firm enough that you can pick them up and eat them with your hand. Next time I might even double the crust and push it further up the sides of the pan.
Happy Honey Bars

The crust:
1 cup flour
3 tablespoons sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of fresh nutmeg
6 tablespoons butter, cold and cubed
spoonful of ice water

The filling:
1/2 cup honey
3 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
pinch of salt
pinch of fresh nutmeg
1 cup milk

Crust: Preheat oven to 350º F. Combine the flour, sugar, salt, and nutmeg in a medium mixing bowl. Cut in the butter cubes, mixing until it is fully incorporated. Sprinkle in a small splash of ice water to the dough and mix again. Press the mixture into an 8×8 nonstick pan. Bake for 15-20 minutes until crust is lightly browned. Remove from oven and let cool. Turn the oven up to 400ºF.

Filling: While crust bakes, warm the honey and butter in a small sauce pan until it is warm and liquid. Transfer to a mixing bowl – I recommend reusing the crust bowl. Whisk in the eggs, vanilla, salt and nutmeg. Wipe out the sauce pan and slowly bring the milk to the point where it just almost bubbles. Remove from heat and slowly whisk the warm milk into the honey-egg mixture. When everything is well incorporated, pour the mixture over the pre-baked crust and bake in a 400º F for 25 – 30 minutes until set. Let bars cool before slicing.

shake it up

Published March 14, 2011 pig slop , sweets 4 Comments
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My grandpa Orville was a genuine, kind-hearted Swede who spent the bulk of his days on a tractor in Lafayette, MN – a small farming community in the south central part of the state. My brother and I would often travel via Greyhound bus from big city Saint Paul to spend stretches of our childhood summers with our maternal grandparents – Orville and Myrtle Swenson. The bus deposited us at Lyle’s Cafe in Winthrop (the next town north) where grandpa would be waiting to fetch in his Mercury. Then, luggage stowed in the trunk, Mister-Misty from the Dairy Queen in hand, off we’d go, barreling down Highway 15 – much like falling through the rabbit hole into another world. I couldn’t soak up rural, small-town life fast enough.

Upon arrival in Lafayette, the very first thing grandma would do is give my brother and me enough money so we could each go buy our very own box of sugar cereal for the coming days ahead. I still don’t know if my mom was privy to this arrangement, but I do know she wouldn’t have approved of it. We never got sugar cereal at home. Instead we got things like homemade granola, shredded wheat, and maybe if we were lucky, plain cheeriros.

Giddy with anticipation, my brother and I would trek the three blocks to Malmberg’s Store and spend an inordinate amount of time perusing the cereal aisle. Even though I knew what I wanted before I set foot across the threshold, I still felt compelled to check out all of my options. Then, armed with my very own box of Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch that I wasn’t even required to share with my big brother, I’d go up to the counter to make my purchase. Inevitably, the clerk would eye me up and say “You must be Mary’s girl.” How could she possibly know this, I’d think? How does she even know who my mom is? But I’d smile and nod yes in amazement.

Thinking back on these visits, what I remember most (cereal aside) is the food. In particular, I was strangely fascinated with watching my grandpa eat. Three times a day, like clock-work, he’d sit down at the head of their big rectangle, vinyl clad, table and wholeheartedly indulge in whatever was put before him. It was so foreign to me. This man wasn’t just eating, he was literally fueling up for the physical demands that lay ahead of him.

From my pre-teen perspective, my grandpa was a man of simple culinary pleasures. But reflecting on this as an adult, I’d say his indulgences were well chosen. Funny that I seem to have adopted most of them (save his annual lutefisk and blood sausage feast). I’ve already shared our mutual fondness of popcorn. And it’s my grandpa I credit for my love of a plain piece of bread slathered in butter and honey. The key word here is the slathered. His table knives, several of which now reside in my silverware bin, have wide, flat blades made for spreading – not cutting. The more butter the better was his motto. Knowing this now only makes me wish I knew him better.

And then, there was the ice cream and the malts. Ice cream (at least when I was visiting) was a nightly staple for Orville – which you’d never guess, given his slim build. Now ice cream was as rare of a treat in our house as was sugar cereal. But my father always told me “when in Rome, do as the Romans do.” And so I dutifully ate ice cream with my grandpa. Plain vanilla with Hershey’s chocolate syrup is what I remember best. Sometimes in a bowl, sometime shaken up with a spoonful of malt powder in his tin malt cup.

I had nearly forgotten about this fine, non-motorized invention until one night several years ago on a visit to my mom’s. We were standing talking in the kitchen when she unexpectedly reached up to one of the top shelves and handed over her dad’s Carnation Malted Milk shaker for me to have. “Really?” I asked, stuffing it in my bag before she had time to reconsider.

I think Orville would be pleased as all get out to know that his beat up old malt cup is now one of my prized possessions. I have spent many a night combining flavors in search of the perfect malt. And though I’ve tried some wild things, I have to admit that plain old vanilla ice cream, a splash of milk, some Hershey’s, and a spoonful malt powder is hard to beat. But then the other night, I shook up a very simple malt that I have been craving ever since. I happened to have some homemade honey-cardamom ice cream on hand (recipe below), but I think you could make these just as well with vanilla ice cream, an extra spoonful of honey, and dash of some warming spice. Nutmeg, cardamom, mace, or cinnamon all sound fabulous. Just a subtle hint of one of those flavors combined with the honey and vanilla would be spot on. I also can’t wait to try this later in the summer with a handful of fresh blueberries tossed in.

Honey Malteds

3 small scoops slightly melty vanilla ice cream
3/4 cup milk
2 rounded tablespoons malt powder
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1-2 tablespoons honey (I used 1 T with the honey ice cream)
small dash of nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom or mace

Shake up in a malt cup, or pulse lightly in a blender. Pour into chilled glass, adorn with a cheerful straw and enjoy. Makes one 10 oz malted.

Honey-Cardamom Ice Cream
Adapted from Alice Medrich’s Pure Dessert

I’ve also made this plain with no spice and love it. Adding a pinch of nutmeg instead of the cardamom is another favorite combo. It’s a wonderful light tasting ice cream.

1/2 cup whole milk
1/3 – 1/2 cup mild flavored honey
Rounded 1/8 tsp. salt
2 1/4 cups heavy cream
1/8 – 1/4 teaspoon cardamom (to taste)

In a small saucepan, warm the milk over medium heat until it begins to simmer gently around the edges. Pour it into a medium bowl, and allow to cool completely. Add the honey and salt, and stir well to dissolve the honey. Stir in the cream and cardamom. Taste, and adjust the amount of honey and spice as needed. Cover and chill thoroughly, preferably overnight.

Freeze according to the instructions for your ice cream maker. Freeze the ice cream in the freezer until hard enough to scoop, at least 3 to 4 hours.

week 52

Published December 28, 2010 pig slop , sweets 3 Comments
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Finally. My favorite week of the year has arrived. I go out of my way to arrange my schedule so that I can more or less take the last week of each year off. It seems fair enough, doesn’t it? After 51 weeks of running around, working, playing, and juggling the affairs of day to day life, I think we all deserve a week of rest. I can’t recommend it enough.

This is the week of slow mornings with coffee and that new novel that was under the tree. This is the week I can even get away with slipping a splash of Bailey’s into my last cup of joe. It’s the week we give our dining room table over to building our annual 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. This is the week I make a bottomless pot of stew to see us through the last days of the year. And it’s the week we set out on late afternoon skis, often treating ourselves to a cold brew afterwards.

Which is not to say that this week is altogether hedonistic. I also try and take care of those random things that I don’t seem to get to on a regular basis. I clean out my work files – paper and electronic – to make a clean slate for the year ahead. I get more satisfaction than I probably should from vacuuming in all those strange little spaces that magically collect dust throughout the year. I go through my digital pictures and order a photo book that features the best of our year’s adventures. I try and tie up as many loose ends as I can so the new year ahead gets its own fair shake.

This is also the week I make time to truly contemplate the past 51 weeks of  living. My husband Mark and I have a tradition of sitting down together with our main house calendar to reminisce over the last 12 months. In addition to writing down all the meetings, appointments, and engagements we have, we also make a point to jot down the funny, sad, memorable, and even the mundane moments that make up our days. It makes for an enjoyable way to reflect on the year and it also helps me to think about the year that lies ahead and what I maybe want to do differently – or keep the same.

If you’re thinking this sounds like a pretty good week, wait. It gets better. The crème de la crème of week 52 is my mother’s toffee. I am not a huge sweet eater, but you’d never know it if you were to catch me around a tin of her toffee. I can’t stop. No restraint. None. And so this is the week when I don’t even try. I eat it whenever the mood strikes. Which means I generally have a piece with my morning coffee. And another when I sit down to puzzle for a bit. Afternoon tea at my desk wouldn’t be proper without it. I give myself permission to work my way through the entire tin of it. It’s everything toffee should be – crunchy, buttery and just a little salty. And it’s a cinch to make. With a good heavy pan and a candy thermometer, you can turn out a batch in about 20 minutes. I’d like to say that this toffee should not just be limited to the holidays, but due to my addiction, I generally do. It’s that good.

My mom has been making this toffee to give as holiday gifts for nearly 30 years. This recipe is based on a recipe that my mom got from a friend back in the 80’s. The original recipe calls for almonds, but I am especially fond of it with toasted hazelnuts (filberts). Try either, but do yourself and your loved ones a favor, and make a batch to close out 2010.

English Butter Toffee

1 cup raw filberts or almonds
1 cup salted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons water

Pre-measure:
1/2 tsp. soda
1 teaspoon vanilla (or a splash of dark rum – especially if you are going the hazelnut route)

6 ounces bitter-sweet (60% cocoa) or semi-sweet chocolate bits or bar
coarse sea salt

Lightly toast the nuts on a heavy baking sheet in a 400º F oven for about 10 minutes. Measure out the rest of the ingredients while the nuts are toasting. When the nuts smell fragrant, remove them from sheet and coarsely chop. Line the same baking sheet with a piece of parchment paper and spread half of the nuts over the tray. When it comes time to spread the toffee, it helps to have the cookie sheet a little warm. I generally pop the nut laden sheet back into the oven – which is off, but still warm from toasting the nuts – while the toffee cooks.

Combine the butter, sugars, and water in a heavy sauce pan over medium high heat and mix well. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Attach a candy thermometer to the pan and continue cooking and stirring until the mixture reaches 300º F (hard-crack stage). In the last few minutes of cooking, the mixture will turn a lovely dark caramel shade. Remove from heat and working quickly, stir in the soda and the vanilla. The mixture will froth up slightly as you add in the soda and vanilla.

Pour the mixture carefully over the slightly warmed tray of nuts. Spread the toffee around evenly with a heat-proof rubber spatula. Resist every temptation you have to prod, tug, or even it out it with your fingers – it will be incredibly hot and not very much fun (I speak from experience).

Let cool about 10 minutes. Sprinkle chocolate bits or shaved bar chocolate over toffee. Using a butter knife or spatula, spread out the chocolate evenly. Sprinkle the remaining nuts over chocolate and press in lightly. Top with a pinch of coarse sea salt. Cool. Break into pieces. Store in an airtight container. (Makes about 1 1/2 pounds)

no going back

Published November 28, 2010 pig slop , sweets 1 Comment

I am not a shopper. Black Friday came and went, my checkbook no worse for the wear. Last week, however, was another story. I sort of went on a bender. It all stated with my ice scrapper. I had gone out to finally liberate my car from the season’s first accumulation of ice and snow. And as if to emulate my feelings on that nippy morning, my favorite 3-inch triangle shaped ice scrapper shattered into about thirteen pieces when I touched it to the windshield. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

When I do shop, I prefer not to do it online, but sometimes, when you live in a town with a population of 600 on a peninsula in northern Wisconsin, it’s just easier. And this was serious. My winter unpreparedness had reached a critical peak. I went straight in and started shopping. It was either that or a plane ticket to Jamaica.

Here’s what came of it:

• An ice scrapper for each car, and although not quite as cool as my triangular model, they are at least made by a small U.S. company. As long as I was outfitting the cars, I also bought new snowbrushes. Whoever designed the two we have been limping by with has clearly never been through a respectable snowstorm. The new ones are made in Canada – a safe bet.

• New snow boots. Last April my ten-year-old Columbias literally broke in half. At the time I could think of no better way to usher in spring than to throw them ceremoniously in the trash – all with a satisfied smirk. I haven’t thought about them since. Until now. So four trial pairs of boots went into my Zappos cart. I don’t know how Zappos does it, but they have something really big figured out with online retailing. I love them (so don’t anybody go and tell me something I wouldn’t want to know about them). When all was said and done, I ended up sticking with the same model of Columbias, even though they had to go and mess with the overall styling of them.

• A small space heater that I hope will keep our little shed functioning as a make-shift root cellar until winter finally wins the war. And when it’s done with that chore, I know I will fire it up in my office on those few days each winter when the passive heat from the downstairs wood stove simply does not make it all the way up to my keyboard.

• Four new pairs of fuzzy pink socks. I don’t know – something about putting on pink socks makes me feel better on cold mornings.

• A pair of bomber mittens. For the past week, my fingers have gone numb on my afternoon walks wearing what I thought to be suitable mittens. I am ecstatic to report that my hands actually broke into a sweat on my last hike. My hands just don’t do that. Ever.

And, while the credit card was hot, I made one last minute, impulse purchase. Even though I have put myself on cookbook probation (due mainly to space limitations) I went ahead and shamelessly ordered a copy of Amanda Hesser’s The Essential New York Times Cookbook. I actually thought about being good and handing the book over to Mark without even cracking the spine so he could wrap it up and get a jump on Santa. But that motion lasted all of about 3 seconds. One peek and there was no going back. Which has not a bad way to spend a blustery Thanksgiving weekend. Wow. Hesser has created a truly astonishing recap of 150 years of New York Times recipes and food history. The only hard part has been deciding what to try first (all signs point to a winter of good cooking ahead). I settled on a chocolate chip cookie recipe that originated from Ms. Hesser herself. I thought I was convinced to try the much talked about David Leite chocolate chip cookie first, but Amanda’s description of a flat, chewy, salty, and chocolaty cookie swayed me. And I’m so glad it did. Get in line David.

Flat and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies

As with many of the recipes in the book, Hesser proceeds this one with a great story. The moral of which is to be sure you use Diamond Crystal kosher salt, which is far less salty than other brands of iodized salt. I was so intrigued by the salt factor of these cookies that I gave my final two trays a sprinkling of coarse salt before putting them in the oven. My only regret was that I waited to try this until the end. I highly recommend it.

2 cups flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 scant tablespoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt
1/2 pound unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 cups (12 ounces) chopped bittersweet chocolate (chunks and shavings)
coarse sea salt

Sift together the flour, baking soda, and salt

In the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle, beat the butter and sugars until fluffy – about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla. Add the flour mixture all at once and blend until a dough forms. Fold in the chocolate. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, preferably overnight.

Heat the oven to 325º F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Roll 2 1/2 tablespoon lumps of dough into balls, place 3 inches apart on the baking sheet, and flatten to 1/2 inch thick disks. Sprinkle the raw cookies with a pinch of sea salt. Chill the remaining dough between batches.

Bake until the edges are golden brown, 14 to 16 minutes. Let cool slightly on the baking sheet, then transfer to a rack.

pinch me

Published November 10, 2010 pig slop , sweets 3 Comments
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It’s National Vanilla Cupcake Day. I know this because not one, not two, but three different people have e-mailed to tell me so. Is this some sort of sign? I’m not sure exactly what it means, but I guess it really doesn’t matter, because I just happen to have a vanilla cupcake recipe that I am smitten with. So much so that I really don’t have eyes for any other.

A few years ago, my husband Mark and I took and impromptu trip to Savannah, Georgia to fend off the end-of-winter-blues. We spent a sun drenched week lounging in the lush public squares in the historic district – there are 21 of them, and I’m pretty sure we hit them all.

Midway through the trip we also made an excursion to the weekly farmer’s market. I believe we bought a hunk of local cheese and a baguette to round out yet another perfect afternoon spent relaxing in front of an azalea rimmed fountain. I also picked up a post card from the bread stand at the market. It was a photo of an old fashioned pink ballerina cake topper, advertising the Back in the Day Bakery – and it caught my attention. I stuffed it away in the book I was reading and didn’t think of it again until our last day in town. We were facing the standard “what to do with the last few hours before you have to catch a cab to the airport” dilemma. And then, I remembered the bakery.

There was a small map printed on the back of the post card and it showed the bakery residing just beyond Forsyth Park at the south end of the historic district. Having walked the entire week, this seemed like an easily attainable goal. Unbeknownst to us, however, the scale of the map changed somewhat upon leaving the historic district. We walked, and walked, and walked – to the point where sheer determination alone to find it set in. Plane? What plane?

But we eventually reached our destination, and the minute I crossed over the threshold, I knew I was at home. It was everything you would imagine a place called “Back in the Day…” might be. The decor, the details – it was all so entirely perfect. We ordered cupcakes and coffee and settled in at a small table to take in the atmosphere. And then – much to my delight – the bakery owner, Cheryl, came out from the back and introduced herself. I don’t know, maybe it was me going gaga over everything in the display case that clued her in. Or maybe she overheard me proclaiming to Mark that we should seriously consider relocating to Savannah so I could get a job at the bakery. Either way, here’s where the story gets especially good. As if chatting with her about baking and the bakery business wasn’t enough – she left me with her vanilla cupcake recipe. Pinch me! It was one of the most delightful cupcakes I had ever enjoyed and I was thrilled to have the recipe. Perhaps it was the marathon walk to get to them, but having made them several times since, I think they can hold their own just fine.

One of my favorite things about this recipe – besides the obvious outcome – is the unusual prep. She lets the mixer do the sifting and there is no creaming of the butter and eggs involved. It all gets added straight to the flour. I usually make my frosting a light shade of pink as a nod to my first “official” Old Fashioned, Back in the Day cupcake. This is a fairly large recipe. I typically halve it and end up with about 14 or so standard cupcakes, or 48 two-inch mini cupcakes. What follows is the full recipe – after all, it IS National Vanilla Cupcake Day. Go a little crazy.

Old Fashioned Cupcakes

1 3/4 cups cake flour (not self-rising)
1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, cut into cubes
4 large eggs
1 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 325º F. Line cupcake pans with paper liners; set aside. Combine in a bowl both flours, sugar, baking powder and salt. Mix on low speed until combined for about 3 minutes. Add in cubed butter, mixing until just coated with flour. Add eggs 1 at a time until combined. Slowly add milk and vanilla to batter until completely mixed scraping down the bowl as you mix. Scoop batter into baking cups filling about 2/3 full. Bake until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean, 17 to 20 minutes (mini cupcakes – which I am especially fond of – require less time). Cool and decorate with Old Fashioned Frosting.

Old Fashioned Frosting

2 sticks butter, room temperature
8 cups confectioners’ sugar
1/2 cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract or other flavoring

Cream softened butter and add 4 cups sugar, milk and vanilla. Beat with paddle attachment until smooth gradually add the rest of sugar to reach your desired frosting consistency.

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