Banana-squash muffin with cream cheese frosting.
Inspired by this year’s Penguin Plunge and by this, I’ve been back at that drawing board working on making some rockin’ penguin cupcakes. I tried one batch, but wasn’t wowed by my results. I revisited my original inspiration, and decided to try my hand with fondant-as-playdough for two reasons:
So I called up Mirabelle’s, and they kindly agreed to sell me a three cups of fondant. It’s available at evil chain stores, but I assumed it would be better from Burlington’s pre-eminent patisserie. Along with the fondant, I gathered:
After dividing the fondant into several parts, I got out the gel icing coloring and started kneading in the color. Don’t do this without gloves.
The black was very strange, as the red-purple part of the pigment seemed to head right into my skin, leaving the fondant itself distinctly green. So, with CrankyGreg’s advice, I kneaded in more red, and some blue, and it finally turned a nice bright black. It also made it goopier and harder to work with, but kneading in a little bit of confectioner’s sugar mostly took care of that.
For penguin purposes, I wanted black, red, yellow and blue, and left quite a bit white. Then amidst several rounds of muttering and scrubbing, the colored fondant went in the refrigerator so it could chill down (separated, so the colors wouldn’t bleed together) while I made a batch of Abby Dodge’s Emergency Blender Cupcakes.
Then it was time to take out the black and white sections and start making penguin parts.
Eyes. These are much smaller than they look in the picture.
Heads and bodies.
And then put the parts together to make the penguins into themselves:
Then I frosted the cupcakes, dusted them with the edible glitter, and put a little pal on top.
The flock has been delivered to Special Olympics for their event on Saturday. I don’t know how they’re going to use them, but I hope they find their way into some happy bellies.
And then it was a separate batch for Math Night at E.’s school by rolling out colored and black fondant into thin sausages and shaping it into numbers and mathematical symbols.
And now it’s on to planning some kooky something for the co-occurring Valentine’s Day & Chinese New Year to celebrate Year of the Tiger. Something with hearts, maybe stripes that’s fun for the kids, plus something traditional, Chinese and delicious for the grown-ups. Stay tuned.
So I lucked out and heard about the all-star team of Vermont chefs rehearsing the meal they were fine-tuning for their upcoming trip to Manhattan’s James Beard House just before it sold out. It was a heady line-up:
A little giddy with my score, I called my mother, who certainly deserves to get an occasional call from me that doesn’t end up with her baby-sitting her wild grandsons. We made plans to go, and before I knew it the day had arrived.
So we got dressed (even in a dress, even eyeshadow, even lipstick):
And off to Richmond we went. We got there just ahead of the crowd, and caught sight of the prep going on in the kitchen, all looking both energetic and calm.
I had been tweeting with Chef Mark Timms, who had nicely told me to pop in to the kitchen to say hi. Since it seemed safe, I ducked my head and did, and caught a picture of the first course he was preparing:
I scooted out to the reception, where these soon appeared – Chef Timms’ take on the Caesar salad, with the rolled wafer with a dab of shredded romaine, anchovy foam, parmesan ice cream, and parmesan cheese tucked into the bottom. Though I heard one person refer to it as “ice cream from the fish shack,” I was taken by the whimsy, the presentation, and the juxtaposition of the strong and soft flavors, and thought it was both fun and interesting.
Though I didn’t have the light to get a good picture of it (don’t worry: a Free Press photographer was there and I hear they’ll be publishing photos in a week or so, when I’ll link to them here), another hors d’ouevres stand0ut was crostini with Red Hen bread, Jasper Hill blue (Bayley Hazen, I assume), thick-cut bacon, and a drizzle of honey. There was also a lovely little take on the BLT:
And this amuse bouche, with beef tartare (or was it carpaccio), topped with a fried cornichon:
Then we sat down for the meal, right after the batteries in my camera (allegedly freshly charged) completely died.
I probably shouldn’t even post the pictures, which are so terrible. Maybe you could join me in pretending they’re relics from a 1960’s newspaper society section. Or if you could just back up from your computer 5 or 6 feet and squint, I think you’d see that they’re pretty reasonable.
Anyway, this was Chef Steve Atkins of the Kitchen Table Bistro’s Heirloom Squash Soup with Roasted Sun Chokes, Misty Knoll Chicken, and Spiced Cream. I’ll admit that I had stifled a yawn when I saw a winter squash soup on the menu, but I found it revelatory, subtle, just lovely. The squash was sweet and deep and delicate, the chicken a perfectly light and tender addition, and the sliced sun chokes added just the right touch of tooth to the dish.
And Flounder, Rutabaga Puree & House Cured Guanciale by Chef Rogan of Verde (Chef, if you’re reading this, we didn’t spot the turnip greens mentioned on the menu). The guanciale was delicious, and the rutabaga puree was delicate and sweet. I would have gladly eaten a plate of the two of those.
Though I’m not a crazy lobster buff, I was excited about the next course: Maine Lobster with Hen of the Wood Mushrooms, Winter Squash, and Cider Brown Butter by Chef Eric Warnstedt of Hen of the Wood. And it was sumptuous, with each ingredient perfectly shown and in the barest bit of the sweet brown butter broth. When we had finished the course, I had to sit quietly for a few minutes to think about what I had just eaten. Oh my.
Next up was Cavendish Quail with Pork Belly, Greens, & Cider Glaze by Chef Sean Buchanan of Solstice. Mmmm … pork belly.
And then Deconstructed Beef Wellington that Chef Mark Timms of Topnotch was presenting with Pickled Tongue, Oxtail, a Demi Cube, and Virtual Egg. I couldn’t imagine what the virtual egg would be, and wondered if they had forgotten to do some kind of substitution because the dish clearly had a wedge of hard-boiled egg on it. But Chef Mark is a wizard of molecular gastronomy, and the egg turned out to be a white made of various cheeses, and the yolk a frozen tomato foam. Really nice, though maybe more “trompe l’oeil egg” than virtual. Beneath the egg garnish were layered duck liver pate (the chef told us he couldn’t get the beef heart he had wanted to use for this part), thin savory crisps, pickled tongue, oxtail, and a cube of demi glace on top.
Even for meat-eaters, there could be an ick-factor with this offal that we don’t normally eat. But as I explained to my boys when I was telling them about the meal today, the more we eat all the parts of the animals who die for our consumption, the fewer animals get killed. Is it really grosser to eat all the parts that we safely can rather than throw out everything that we can’t turn into chops or stew? Of course not.
I know Chef Mark will be tweaking this one, and I’m looking forward to learning what the final version will be like.
And then we ended with the Kitchen Table Bistro’s Chef Lara Atkins’ Open Faced Coffee Chocolate Sundae, Candied Almonds, Vanilla Anglaise. We didn’t know if we’d be able to eat one more bite after all the rest, but yes we did rally, and ate every bit of this. Though it might have been nice to end with a simple citrus sorbet to follow all those flavors, Chef Lara put the bracing coffee flavor in front of this, and it really did shine.
It was a fun and convivial evening. The Kitchen Table staff were terrific hosts, and the fact that Team Vermont donated the proceeds from the event to the Vermont Campaign to End Childhood Hunger made it all even better.
Vermont’s an awfully fun place to be in the food community, with a prestigious (maybe proto-prestigious) event like this is open to the public, and priced accessibly, and with the chefs coming out to meet the diners and even seek feedback. If there’s one thing I would change, I would have liked to have seen local ingredients highlighted on the actual printed menu. It would have been fun to have any farmers or cheesemakers introduced if their items were featured, especially since we Vermont localvore types so appreciate that farm-consumer connection.
Stay tuned as the team prepares for their trip to Manhattan on March 22. Oh, to be the onsite blogger … and with a camera that works.
Everyone, meet Glen. Although he wouldn’t let me take his picture head-on, Glen is my new favorite person. Why? Because Glen (there in the purple) is bringing to a lovely and so far uneventful close the “Leaking Bathtub, Buckling Floor, Toxic Mold of Death,” chapter of our lives.
Allow me to recount:
We purchased our unit before it was even constructed as part of this new cohousing community. It’s a great location, with trees out every window, lovely. It was also the first unit to be completed. We didn’t consider that we would be moving into the beta version of the development. Instead I simpered, thinking how precious it was that our condo would be the ground-breaker in this little eco-communitarian paradise.
Over time, various problems arose, some large, some less so, mostly of the seems-normal-for-new-construction variety. Then, in spring 2009, I noticed that the floor of the bathtub was feeling a little soft. I invited neighbors over and we climbed into the bathtub in our socks, springing up and down a bit. “Hmm,” we said. Hmm. We shrugged.
The caulking on the side of the tub kept pulling away and I keep dutifully replacing it. Then, sometime in June, a small hill appeared in the linoleum near the tub. Though I tried to ignore it for a couple of days, it was hard to keep that up. Greg tapped his foot at me, and I started asking around for recommendations for a contractor. My mother recommended Glen, who’s a friendly and burly Australian native. We walked around the bathroom and started talking about likely causes. If I was lucky, said Glen, it would prove to be a leak from the toilet’s gasket. If we were unlucky, it would be a leak from the tub. The only way to find out the cause would be to take up the floor and look, and he’d have to line up a plumber to assist. Hmm.
A couple of days later, CrankyGreg came into the bedroom and said, “Um, I just tried to scratch some dirt off the tub, and I poked a hole in the tub.” A hole in the tub was not something I’d ever really considered before. We went to look at it, said, “hmm,” a couple of times. I got on the phone to cancel a camping trip we’d been planning, since I’d have to stick around and get this fixed.
So I started making phone calls. I left a message with the project’s general contractor, who never returned the call. I spoke with the foreman of the plumbing subcontractor, who was the linchpin in getting to the tub’s manufacturer, but it took him 6 weeks to write three sentences on a piece of paper and submit it to the right people. I called my insurance company, who promptly told me that my policy excluded damage incurred over time. I contacted the condo association’s insurance company, who told me the whole thing would take about $1,200 to fix, including a new floor, new sub floor, new bathtub, and any necessary repairs. We said, “No, thank you.”
I reported this to Glen, who told me to call back when I knew what I wanted to do.
In the meantime, we had a hole in the tub, but it was summer and kind of fun. I sent the boys outside in the sprinkler to get clean, or else we went swimming. A couple of times, I borrowed neighbors’ bathrooms, which was a chance to marvel at how clean other people’s homes are.
But time went on and the leaves started turning and now I really wanted some action. Every time someone coughed or sniffled I became surer that we were sick because of mold spores. I contacted the supplier of the tub, who had me talk to the quality assurance person at the manufacturer. I’m pretty sure I’m the only homeowner he had ever spoken with, because what he mostly said was that I couldn’t call him, and had to deal with the supplier. I called my lawyer, who came over and stood with me and looked at the tub and said, “hmm,” a few times and then told me I really should make some phone calls and get it fixed. But that now he’d know what I was talking about when I called.
I really needed help. In desperation, I called my insurance company and asked if there was someone who could just help get something done, like quarterback this for me. From the other end of the phone came chirping crickets, silence, more silence, then, “You want us just to help you? No. We don’t do that.”
If there was a bright spot in my dealings with this wacky cast of characters, it was Donna at F.W. Webb, who had purchased the unit. Although neither of us knew what to do, she made suggestions and gave me names and phone numbers. Finally, now in October, I told Donna that I had had it, and asked her to relay to the tub’s manufacturer that she had an extremely irate homeowner who was ready to call the state’s attorney. A few minutes later, Donna called back with the name, phone number, email and fax number of the person who handled such claims. She told me what I needed to do.
It took me until December to have the two necessary estimates (in Vermont, we don’t do much in the way of home repairs in November because it’s deer season), and send them off to the company. Then just before Christmas, I got a call from Scott, one of The Big Bosses at the manufacturer, who was telling me that they were of course going to replace the tub and pay for all necessary repairs.
So as I write this, I have a newly installed tub, and am picking out new linoleum (this, I think) and paint (Misty Memories, 2nd row from bottom, 2nd column from the right). The toilet isn’t attached, and Greg says I’m on dukey duty if the boys decide to use it anyway.
That aside, things are looking up. The damage was fairly contained to one area, and there was no actual toxic mold. I even heard words I’ve never before heard in this context, “You know, everything went right for you that could have.” and now Glen is leaving for the weekend. But not without having had some Cranky Love in the form of Apple Pie Muffins, really the least I could do.
Of course, the job isn’t quite done yet.
Apple Pie Muffins
Makes 12
Preheat oven to 350.
Whisk together in a medium bowl:
In a large bowl, mix together well:
If you use fresh apples, let them sit for 10 minutes to soften.
Stir the flour mixture into the egg-apple mixture, just until mostly combined. A few lumps (not just the apples) should remain.
Put into muffin tins and bake for 14 – 18 minutes.
When done, remove pan from oven and let muffins cool for a few minutes in their pan before removing to a rack to cool completely. Feed them to your contractor and any other people who might be hanging around looking hungry.
A virtual foodie friend let it be known that she was looking to branch out and do some guest posts on other blogs, and I thought that sounded fun. And today, with work AT LAST starting on my bathroom, I’m especially grateful to be able to share some homemade love without a lot of work on my part.
The guest blogger is the lovely Jill McKeever from Simple Daily Recipes, another mom with an unfussy approach to homemade food.
And here’s what she sent.
Homemade Almond Granola
Homemade Almond Granola is my favorite food right now. It works on top of yogurt, bananas, baked apples, in a small bowl with milk, and my favorite way, out of the palm of my hand. Every time I peek into my pantry, there it is, staring at me. It whispers, “I’m so good for you, snack on me. Take just a handful and be on your way.” I listen and obey.
And this is not an overly sweet granola, either. Comparing it to others I’ve eaten. It’s why I like eating it all the time. This best part is the crunch, not chew, CRUNCH. I can hardly hear my kids going on about what happened to SpongeBob when I’m eating it, the crunching drowns out their narratives. Bless their hearts.
You’ll find this recipe makes a lot of granola and it takes 2-hours to bake. It’s best to make it before bedtime. You read that correctly, before bed. Leaving the baked granola to slowly cool down in the oven overnight seems to be the magic trick to getting the crunch. It stores very well in glass jars with good lids.
There’s something about granola in a big glass jar on the counter. It seems to say, “This is a healthy, happy kitchen. Eat up!”
HERE’S ALL IT TAKES
Stir all the dry ingredients together, then add:
Mix well and place on three 9-inch by 13-inch pans and bake at 250ºF. Stir after 1 hour; bake 1-hour longer; stir again. NEXT, turn OFF oven and leave granola in there for several hours to cool. Store in air-tight containers. Granola has been known to keep well up to 3 weeks before being completely consumed.
Recipe and photo by Jill McKeever at SimpleDailyRecipes.com
I made these cupcakes because I had volunteered to help out with a Nepali fund raising dinner here in our cohousing community. They were delicious, yes, if I say so myself, but hardly up to the meal they followed. My neighbor Ming made an amazing feast of red lentil daal, and stewed chicken, and fresh vegetables, rice, daikon pickle, raisin-sesame pickle. Amazing, beautiful food that I forgot to take pictures of. (Hey – the buffet gets pretty competitive around here. I have priorities.)
But before I made a glutton of myself, I had offered to make dessert, and chai leaped to mind and here these came.
Chai Cupckaes with Orange Honey Frosting
Makes 12
Based on the 1997 Joy of Cooking’s 1-2-3-4 Yellow Cake & Swiss Meringue Buttercream Frosting
Make the cake:
3. Combine in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer and then let sit for 3 or 4 minutes:
But don’t take a picture, or else it might look like this. Really now, I couldn’t have wiped down the sides of the pan before I snapped this? Jeez Louise.
4. In a large bowl, beat until creamy:
Gradually add and beat on high speed until light in both texture and color:
5. Add the flour mixture, 1/3 at a time, alternating with the milk, and adding the last third of flour last, using a wooden spoon or an electric mixture set on low speed until nice and smooth.
6. In another large bowl, beat until soft peaks form:
Then gradually add while beating still:
Continue beating until the peaks are firm but not dry. (I have no idea what this really means, but the recipes always say it and so I am too. I stop beating when the peaks hold themselves up without immediately flopping over.)
Fold the meringue into the batter, first adding one cup, and gently folding in until well-combined, then folding in the rest.
7. Ladle batter into prepared pans and bake until golden brown and done, 20-25 minutes, then remove to a rack and cool.
While the cupcakes are cooling prepare the frosting:
Swiss Meringue Buttercream
This makes about 3 cups, which is probably more than you’ll need unless you want to get wacky with it. What I love about this frosting is how it’s both rich in flavor and light in texture; it’s no healthier than traditional buttercream, but it seems like maybe it ought to be.
1. Whisk together in a stainless steel bowl:
Set the bowl in a large skillet filled with water so that the depth of the water is at least equal to where the ingredients inside the bowl reach. Clip on a candy thermometer, and beat with an electric mixture on low speed until the temperature reaches 140. Don’t stop beating while the eggs are in the pan, or else they’ll overcook.
Turn up the speed to high and continue beating until the temperature reaches 160, 3 or 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and beat in:
2. In a separate large bowl, beat until light and fluffy:
Fold in 1/4 of the meringue of the meringue mixture, then slowly and gently fold in the rest. Keep at room temperature for frosting once the cupcakes have cooled, and whatever’s left is between you, your conscience and any kitchen helpers you may have around. (Should you choose to do so, the frosting will keep for about a week in the fridge, or 6 months in the freezer.)
Why you might like to make your own tamales:
Last night we had two gluten-free friends and a vegetarian friend over for dinner. I whined a little bit about having to come up with a menu to accommodate everyone, but I remembered the masa harina in the back of the cupboard, came across a couple of frozen smoked pork chops from Boucher Family Farm, and off we went.
Green Chile & Cheese Tamales plus Pork & Green Chile Tamales
Adapted from Zarela Martinez
Makes about 24
You don’t need to have much else with these. We had some beer and a salad with romaine, slivered mango, red onion, and spicy pumpkin seeds with a simple vinaigrette. Perfect.
When I was a kid, I wanted to eat. I’m sure my parents will correct me if I’m wrong, but what I remember is sitting still in restaurants because I was scared that I’d miss good food. When I was 6, we went to Mexico to a fabulous and kind of famous place called Andersen’s, where I sat in my own chair and ate squid in its own ink. Did I run around slamming into glass windows and terrifying waitstaff? Why no. I did not. I did not hang cameras from straws, or start whining about dessert as soon as I had ordered dinner, and I’m pretty sure I was able to use flatware without jousting.
All of this is by way of explaining why I thought it might be okay to bring my boys along for our first adventure in Dumpling Quest 2010, which took place at Joyce’s Noodle House in Essex, Vermont. I was forced to conclude that this was untrue, based on the faces of the adults in our group of 11, and the raised eyebrows of the restaurant staff. I must mention that Cynthea also brought her son, and he was a perfect little angel who ate his broccoli and crab rangoon and drew with crayons, and even was self-contained enough that his mom was able to take these beautiful pictures.
Luckily, we were in our own room, and it was a slow Tuesday, so all relay races, chopstick drumming, and screechy whining took place in a fairly contained space. It didn’t hurt that we had a super-nice waiter (I’m embarrassed that I didn’t get his name). Kind, tolerant of my boys, knew the menu up and down, wasn’t fazed by our anarchistic tendencies in ordering, and completely professional. Give that guy a raise, Joyce!
The menu is huge, but we were there for dumplings. We agreed that folks would get what they wanted, but that we would share a few orders of whatever dumplings we could. I had printed up copies of a dumpling judging matrix, and we ordered and ordered away.
We tried pan-fried and steamed versions of pork dumplings. (Don’t these boats make you want to sail away to the land of carb-y goodness?) To me, this, the pan-fried pork dumpling is the cornerstone of the dumpling world. Joyce’s were wonderful, with a filling of finely chopped (not ground) meat, and delicate but perceptible vegetables and flavor.
We also had vegetarian ones that looked like those above, but with green wrappers. The filling in these was a mild chopped fresh vegetable mix, spinach and bamboo shoots, and I’m not sure what else. Z. ate four of them.
And Szechuan Jiao-Zhi, which seemed to be boiled versions of the pork ones in the picture above, but in a spicy sesame and vinegar sauce:
There were entrees and side dishes too: eggplant and tofu and noodles and roast pork. I couldn’t help trying it all, though I was trying to stay focused on the job. This was no easy task, what with the piles of dumplings in front of me, and with my children crawling underneath the table from one end to the other, and Z. using his special chopsticks to move the bubbles in his bubble tea from one cup to another. Or E. making incredibly sad eyes as we waited for the food to arrive while he was staaaarrrrrvvvvving.
Then Joyce herself came out to say hello, and asked what we had ordered. She and I talked about dough and wrappers (they make their own, a fairly uncommon commitment), and she asked why we hadn’t ordered the steamed buns.
She went back to the kitchen to order some for us, and brought them out herself, then removed the lid and showed us how to score the top of the bun and pour just a little vinegar into the top.
When we tried them, though we were stuffed, we knew why she insisted that we do. The thick but still delicate wrapper was wonderful. The filling was both rich and well-balanced, though my taste buds were by then too overwhelmed to pick out all the flavors – pork, maybe leek? The splash of vinegar done just that way was a new and wonderful way to treat the morsels. These were definitely the meal’s high point, and I wished I had started with them. They’re lovely enough to warrant their own close-up.
But then, after the 8th or 9th absolutely last warning to my boys, we ordered fried bananas for dessert, while I forced boys into seats, where they fiddled with fortune cookies. The bananas came with ice cream, the boys calmed down, and we all dug in, agreeing that since they had an outer and an inner layer and were fried, that they too would qualify as dumplings.
It was a great meal. With bubble teas and entrees and everything, it ended up costing about $35 a person (we counted the three tykes as one whole person for math purposes). Several in our group had heard mixed reviews about Joyce’s before, but after such warm hospitality and delicious food, I suspect we’ll all be back.
Restaurant: Joyce’s
Date Visited: January 19
Dumplings Tried: Steamed & Pan-Fried Pork, Steamed & Pan-Fried Vegetable, Szechuan Spicy Jiao-Zhi, Steamed Little Buns, Steamed Vegetable Buns
Dumpling Quest 2010 Official Grade: A-
Vermont friends, where should we go next? A Single Pebble, Zen Gardens?
With Special Olympics VT’s Penguin Plunge on the way, I was thinking penguin thoughts. Well, I was thinking something like, “What a great event. I should just take that February plunge into Lake Champlain! I just turned 40! What a great opportunity to do something bold! Hmm. I wonder if they’d like a batch of cupcakes instead. That would probably be even more helpful.”
So I did some research to see what penguin cupcakes folks have made, like this and this. I didn’t want to just mold penguins out of marzipan or fondant or whatever, and I didn’t want to buy mini donuts and donut holes, so I thought I’d try something else. And then my friend announced a bake sale to raise money for the Humane Society at our church, so I had a reason to rehearse.
Using the always-reliable Abby Dodge’s Emergency Blender Cupcakes, I made a double batch, baking half in mini tins, and half in regular sized cups lined with foil (don’t line the minis).
This is how we patiently waited for them to bake.
While they cooked and cooled, I prepared some penguin-decorating candy, starting with eyes made from little white ones with dots of black icing. I had pulled out some yellow ones too, prompting CrankyGreg to say, “Excellent. Penguins with jaundice.”
I got some chocolate-covered mint cookies for wings. These were trickier to cut without crushing than I would have thought, but the scraper ended up doing the job right.
Not pictured here:
Once the cupcakes were cool, I used a little bit of frosting to stick a mini cupcake on top of a larger one. Then I used a spoon to cover them with icing. We attached eyes, wings, beak and feet. And then I realized I had forgotten something white (like those marshmallow slices) for the bellies, so I clumsily spooned some confectioner’s sugar on. Then we stood back to gaze upon the results, which were decidedly ducklike.
The rest of the batch were improved by making a double stack of the minis on top so that our penguins had necks.
Though there was a lot of self-mockery going on around here, E. & Z. loved them. And when they proudly delivered the remaining ones to the bake sale table Sunday morning, we were swarmed and gasped at and feeling pretty good for the few minutes that they lasted. Plus I think we know enough now to make a truly beautiful batch for the February 6 event. Maybe we’ll see you there.
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