CrankyCakes

Is it just me?

Wouldn’t you expect that your children and their two friends could stay at the petting zoo and playground for two minutes while you ran to get them a bottle of water since the poor little darlings were thirsty?

And if they had to run wild in the minutes you were gone, surely you’d think they could continue on with the petting zoo animals, or climbing the wooden tractor, or running across the wide, safe, open field.  What child of reading age would cross an acre, pass the “CLOSED” signs, and enter the corn maze?

This place, by the way, is a big old actual maze with paths that swirl around in traditionally confusing and re-doubling ways.  It wasn’t terrifying at 3:00 p.m., but I sure as heck wouldn’t want to be there after sundown.   I’ve seen the horror movies and I know what goes on.

Still, you and your younger child yourselves entered the forbidden rows, yelling for the trespassers and were at last reunited, after telling the offending three children that they were in TROUBLE and had ONE MINUTE to find their way to where you were (because if you tell people to do something impossible while YELLING, the laws of physics will change to accommodate your wishes), and then the farmer showed up to yell at them too.

So there we were with glaring adults and big-eyed children.  I was waiting for the finger-pointing and the meltdown and I was ready to dish out some Very Serious Consequences.  But that was when E. said, “Listen.  It’s my fault.  I went in and they came in to get me out.  I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed.”  The farmer looked at me and I think realized they were in much more trouble on the homefront than they were with the farm.  He asked, “So now you know you did something wrong?  And if I had a cable across that row you wouldn’t have gone in?  We want to make sure you’re safe, you know.”

I don’t know what you would have done but for me it was to give the children a hug.  And then we shared our first cider donuts of the season sitting around a picnic table talking about how to decide what’s allowed and what’s safe, about how smart it was to stay together and keep each other okay.

In the end it was one of those golden moments when our children show us the beautiful people they’re becoming, even if there’s plenty of crazy along the way.

And then we went home to make a dinner of our first 2010 local apples, some good Cabot cheddar, and a pile of crackers, since I had no energy left for cooking.  On the way, E. said, “Mommy, you know it’s not really my fault.  They should have signs showing how to get out of that place!  Can you believe there was only one picture of the whole thing?!”

Indeed.

And now that we’ve recovered I want to share with you this pure summer harvest celebration of a recipe that we enjoyed last week after a much less adventurous visit to our CSA farm.  It was Z.’s idea to mix, “corn … and cheese … and broccoli and water … and I’ll stir it all up!”  I’m sure he was thinking something more mudpie-ish, but to me it sounded like chowder, and that’s what we made.

Cheesy Corn Potato Chowder
About 6 servings

1.  Remove the kernels from:

• 3 ears fresh corn

and set aside.

2.  Heat until rippling in a large sauce pan:

• 2 T. butter or olive oil

3.  Adjust heat to medium-low, and add:

• 2 cups diced potatoes, with peels unless you really hate them
• 1/2 cup sliced carrots
• 1/2 cup chopped onion

Cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until carrots are softened, and onions are starting to brown gently.

4.  Stir in and mix very well:

• 1/2 t. salt
• freshly ground pepper
• 1/4 cup flour (substitute your usual thickener if you’re going for gluten-free)

Then pour in, 1/2 cup at a time, and bring to a simmer while stirring.

• 2 cups milk
• 1 cup water

5.  Stir in and cook at a low simmer just until broccoli turns bright green, about 3 minutes:

• 2 c. shredded cheddar cheese (I use Cabot 50% reduced fat cheddar)
• 1 cup finely chopped broccoli (or substitute spinach or chopped chard)
• the reserved corn

Heat through, and serve.

I like the nutrition and transportability of a breakfast smoothie, but I don’t always want something sweet first thing in the morning.  I started making these during the heatwave a couple of weeks ago, and have been pretty breakfast-happy with them.   They’re healthy, creamy and tart, and have enough protein to keep me reasonably satisfied until lunchtime.  Plus not having fruit or sweet things in them means that the boys never, ever abscond with my cup.

Savory Super-Green Smoothie
Makes 1

• 1 c. plain lowfat dairy or soy yogurt
• 1/4 c. soy milk, whey from yogurt, or milk
• 1/2 ripe avocado
• handful of spinach or lettuce
• 1 T. tahini
• 1/2 t. spirulina powder
• 1 T. green olives or your favorite salsa
• 3 or 4 ice cubes

Stir, blend & repeat until nice & smooth.

This video this is supposed to be funny, like stupid ha-ha.

But maybe because it’s late, or maybe because a birthday makes a mom notice how fast time passes, I think it’s right on.

Friends, readers, loved ones, thank you for being here – whether it’s your birthday or not.  And it’s cool if you didn’t get a promotion or a new degree or cure anything or finally make a perfect meringue.

I’m just glad you didn’t die this year. Really: nice job with that.

Thanks for not jumping off a bridge in spite of these crazy oil-spill, immigrant-hating, war-mongering, Fox-news-yelling, unemployment-up-the-wazoo days.  In spite of all that’s going on in your own life that might have made it tempting.

And Z., my baby, my brilliant bubbly little shining birthday star. Thank you for coming into this world and being here with me.  Happy birthday.

Let’s have some silly cupcakes and give the whole thing another whirl.

(The fabulous Abby Dodge’s Emergency Blender Cupcakes, with Italian Buttercream Frosting, with candy-coated sunflower seeds and snipped licorice, peach gummy rings, and fruit leather.)

It was an early summer day and there in the cheese section was a bright and cheery box of ingredients put together by Ricki the Cheese Queen.  It was about $25, said it made 30 batches of mozzarella and/or ricotta and I had a little extra money and couldn’t resist.

So I got some milk, invited friends over and off we went.

We thought the boys would love making cheese, but the process turns out to be a lot of cooking and then touching hot things.  Instead they turned out to be more interested in this:

So we mom-types got a look at the ingredients in the box …

And then, repeating to myself, “pay attention, pay attention, — ooh look, a glass of wine! — pay attention,” we got started.

We learned this is really important before you start:

1. You can use raw (if you’re a fan) or pasteurized – but not ultra-pasteurized – milk.
2. Get thee some chlorine-free water, either by buying filtered or letting your chlorinated water sit uncovered for a few hours to let the chlorine evaporate.  I don’t know why this matters but the Queen hath spoken.

We dissolved 1/4 rennet tablet in 1/4 c. of that chlorine-free water.

Then mixed the citric acid in with 1 c. more chlorine-free water.

Then we poured the milk into a big stainless steel pot, stirred in the citric acid, and heated the milk to 90F.  First it looks like this:

And then before I knew it, it looked like this.  This was definitely the first time I’ve ever been excited to see curdled milk, and the first time I can remember ever considering that “curdled” doesn’t mean “went bad” but does in fact mean “form curds as if to make cheese.”  Awesome.

Then it was time to stir in the dissolved rennet.  Ricki’s instructions say to stir with “an up and down motion,” and I have no idea what the hell that means since I’m pretty sure that stirring means something that happens in a circular fashion.  So I stirred, making sure to sort of fold the top part of the stuff into the bottom part of the stuff and hoped that was good enough.

Then it was time to cover the pot, leave it alone, and wait five minutes.

After 5 minutes, it was supposed to look like a custard, with the liquid (whey) separated from the curds.  It didn’t look like custard, and the whey was pretty milky looking (apparently not desirable), so the lid went back on for 5 more minutes.  Then it looked better.

We were supposed to next cut the curds in a sort of grid fashion, but ours were not so solid that they were really able to be sliced, so we stirred it around.

Then the pot went back on the stove to stir and to heat the proto-cheese to 115F while stirring, then stirred it off the heat for a few minutes more.

There is no picture of this.

Then Her Majesty said to “drain the whey” off of the curds, which seemed a little crazy because the whole thing was mostly liquid.  We poured it over a strainer instead.

Next a big pot of water got heated to 185F, and then the curds get dipped in and stirred around.  This was super-exciting because they quickly start to melt and look an awful lot like mozzarella.  Then there’s more dipping and folding and dipping and folding and stretching, some adding salt and herbs and before we knew it we had some cheese.

There’s no picture of this because I was dipping and folding and adding salt.  But look:  video!

We thought, “Why not bocconcini?”  so after it was thoroughly cheese-like we started forming those.  They were hard to get round and it was hard to make them without lumps and bumps and seams.  But by then we were on our second glasses of wine so we pressed bravely ahead.  We mixed up some garlic and olive oil and kosher salt and Annie chopped up some basil from the garden to marinate our little mini mozzarellitas.

And we threw together some edible flowers and greens and currants and thawed some biscuits from the freezer and turned it into dinner.

It was lovely, and I’m happy to report that every day since then Z. has asked for homemade cheese.  And it will most definitely be coming.

I don’t know if our librarians could possibly know how much the summer reading program saves our sanity.

How positively alluring and magnetic we find that weekly day at the library, amidst the chaos of the disrupted schedule, the dinners with friends that stretch on into the night while mommies sip wine and can’t bear to call children in before sunset, the watergun fights and overtired, mosquito-bitten warriors on endless quests.

Library day.  So we gather whatever books we can find to return, bring in the boys’ reading lists from the past week and we toodle down the hill.  They perch on chairs and gesticulate wildly while they describe the horrible things their favorite characters have done on that week’s pages.

While there this week, E. excitedly found a past favorite, “Wild Boars Cook.” Oh, the boars (Horace, Morris, Boris & Doris) are horrible creatures, beautifully drawn and full of badness.  While in this sequel book they are neither bathing in toilets nor breaking toys nor farting, they are in the kitchen making a “massive pudding,” with ingredients I’ll leave you to discover.  Plus the book ends with a recipe for a massive cookie, and we made our version of it.

Massive Cookie
Adapted from “Wild Boars Cook”
Makes 1 cookie, about 12 servings

Preheat oven to 350.

Cream together until very well blended in a medium bowl:

• 1/2 stick (4 T.) butter
• 1/4 c. olive oil
• 3/4 c. sugar

Sift over the top of the butter mixture:

• 1/2 c. white flour
• 1/2 c. whole wheat pastry flour
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. baking soda

Stir thoroughly.  Then mix in:

• 1/2 c. chocolate chips

Grease a cookie sheet, then form dough into shape of a large cookie.

Bake for 15 minutes, then have one of your little boarlets carefully sprinkle over the top while you stand there nervously with potholders between your child and the pan.  Or maybe just do it yourself:

• 1/2 c. m&m type candies
• 1/2 c. gum drops or jelly beans

Bake for 15 minutes more, or until golden brown.

Cool, cut into wedges or whatever shape you like.

Have any great kids books with recipes you love?  I’d love to hear about them since, ahhhhh, our next library day is coming soon.

It is day 5 of summer vacation and I have already threatened my #1 son with juvenile detention if he doesn’t stop hitting his brother.

Homemade sugary treats with purple sparkles!

He wanted to know if he could eat hot dogs if he went to kid jail.  No hot dogs, I told him.  No good food at all.

For breakfast!

Homemade Blueberry Pop Tarts
adapted from King Arthur Flour & with inspiration from Smitten Kitchen
makes about 9

Whisk together:

• 1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 2 T. ground flaxseed
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt

Use 2 forks or a pastry cutter to work in:

• 1 stick unsalted butter, cut into pats

Whisk together:

• 1/2 c. olive oil
• 1 large egg
• 2 tablespoons milk

Add oil-egg-milk mixture to flour mixture and stir briskly until mostly incorporated.  You can knead it a couple of times if you like.

Divide the dough in half and shape each a rectangle.  Chill in the refrigerator for 10 or 15 minutes, then roll out first one rectangle and then the other to a rectangle about 1/8″ thick measuring 12 x 15 inches (use a cutting board or baking sheet as a guide).

While dough is chilling, prepare filling by placing in a small saucepan, stirring well and heating to a boil for one minute:

• 2/3 cup blueberry jam
• 1 t. cornstarch dissolved in 1 T. water

Let filling cool.  Lightly oil a baking sheet and set aside.

Removing dough from refrigerator, use a sharp knife or a pastry wheel to cut 9 approximately same-sized rectangles.  Repeat with second rectangle of dough.  Brush outline with:

• beaten egg

then place a tablespoon of filling in the center.  Put another piece of dough on top, then press and crimp edges with a fork and poke a few holes on top for ventilation.  Put each on the prepared baking sheet.

Preheat oven to 350.  Refrigerate pastries for 15 – 20 minutes, then place directly into oven and bake for about 30 minutes or until lightly golden.  Remove to rack to cool.

If you really want to be able to prepare these in your toaster, you probably should stop here.  But if you just want them to enjoy them without the actual use of a toaster, go ahead and make some sugar glaze and then top with colored sugar or sprinkles before eating them all in a carbo-loading festival of self-loathing and -pity at your horrible parenting surprising your little angels with them for a special breakfast treat.

So at last I’m reading Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and the truth is that I’m liking it so much that I’m a little bit embarrassed.

I was sure that I was going to find it a total snoozer, and roll my eyes at all the stuff I already know.  Like I need to be taught how to eat locally and why it’s a good idea?  But reading it is like talking to another localvore friend, one who’s clever and funny and self-deprecating and good-hearted, and not as “preachy” as I’ve heard the book described.

Maybe that’s why I took it a little personally when I read the passage about how my new BFF’s year of eating locally was going to mean growing food and buying from local farmers.  And ABSOLUTELY NOT going to include gleaning weeds by the roadside because she didn’t want to fit some low-class stereotype.

Ahem.

I like collecting weeds, and I’m okay with knowing that my sons will grow up to be mortified by the habit.  It’s okay because one day they’ll appreciate my boundless creativity and thriftiness.  Of course by then I’ll be dead and my ghost will be hovering over the heads of their wives or husbands saying things like, “Really?  You’re too good for that?  You’re just going to throw out the peel and those greens and not even make soup out of it?  And what the hell is that thing you’re wearing?  You call that a shirt?”

But here and now my target is grape leaves (well, grape leaves plus eight uninterrupted hours of sleep and maybe paying my bills on time for once).  The vines are absolutely everywhere, and I’m gearing up for a big harvest and preservation.

And in the meantime, I’m preparing lots of dolmades with the fresh ones.  They’re a quick snack or meal, taste great, are gluten- and dairy-free, and easily made vegan.  Come on by and join me among the weeds.

Stuffed Grape Leaves
Adapted from Joy of Cooking
About 40 rolls

Pour 2 cups of boiling water over:

• About 40 large grape leaves (or 2 small jars if you haven’t gotten the fresh wild ones around).

Let sit for 1 hour.

In the meantime mix well together in a large bowl:

• 1 1/2 lbs. ground lamb or beef (locally, humanely raised)
• (if you want a vegetarian version substitute 2 cups dried lentils plus 1/3 cup of water for the meat)
• 1 finely chopped onion
• 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh herbs (your choice – I used oregano and thyme)
• 1/3 cup uncooked white rice
• 1 T. salt (don’t skimp)
• Ground black pepper to taste

Line a large saucepan with several leaves.  Then roll the remaining leaves by placing a leaf on a small plate or cutting board, vein-side up and with the stem facing you.  Put a heaping teaspoon of filling about an inch above the leaf’s bottom.  Fold over the left and right sides, then roll from bottom to top and place in the pan with the flap-side down.  Roll the rest of them and place in concentric circles in the pan, building to a second level as necessary.  Save a few smaller grape leaves aside.

Drizzle over the top:

• 3-4 T. olive oil

Pour in:

• 2 T. lemon juice
• 2 cups stock/broth or water,

Place remaining grape leaves on top, and cover with a small plate (this will ensure that all the stuffed leaves are sufficiently submerged).  Cover the pan and simmer for about 30 minutes, or until the rice and meat/lentils are cooked.  Serve hot, cold, or at room temperature – which is how much Mediterranean food tends to be eaten.

I’ve long wanted to make this cake,  which I first had years ago at a celebration dinner with friends.  But  though it combines two of my very favorite flavors (strawberries and almonds), I was intimidated by making genoise, the classic European sponge cake that provides its layers.

My mother inspired me recently though, telling me that even though she didn’t think of herself as much of a cook, she could do fairly complex things because she knows how to follow the steps of a recipe.

I thought, I want to do that too.  And before I knew it it was Mother’s Day, and since these are tastes my mother also loves, Z. & I got in the kitchen.  We followed the recipe, making it just a bit healthier, and it was very, very good.

Fraisier Cake
(adapted from Joy of Cooking)
12 servings

Preheat oven to 350.

Grease and flour the bottoms of two 9 x 2″ round pans.

Sift together 3 times and return to the sifter:

• 1 1/4 c. whole wheat pastry flour or cake flour
• 1/4 c. sugar

Melt in a small saucepan:

• 1/3 c. clarified butter (I used 2 T. butter, and the rest olive oil)

Whisk together in a large heatproof bowl:

• 6 large eggs
• 3/4 c. sugar

Set the bowl over a skillet of very lightly simmering water, and whisk constantly until the mixture is warm to the touch (110 on a thermometer).  Remove bowl from the heat and and beat on high speed until very lightly colored and tripled in volume.  This will take about 5 minutes with the whisk attachment of a stand mixer, or 15 minutes with a hand-held beater.

In 3 additions, sift the flour mixture over the top and fold in with a rubber spatula.  (Unless your children relentlessly steal your rubber spatulas, no matter how many times you replace them, in which case you can use a wooden spoon like I did.)

Reheat butter until warm, and fold into

• 1 1/2 c. of batter, with
• 1 t. vanilla

until completely incorporated.

Fold into remaining egg mixture, then scrape into pans and spread evenly.  Bake until cake begins to pull away from sides of pans and top springs back when lightly pressed.  The JoC recipe says this should take about 15 minutes, but in my oven it took about 22.

Let cool on rack in pans for 10 minutes, then run knife carefully around edges to detach from pan, then let cool on rack completely.

While cakes are cooling, clean and slice in half:

• 3 c. strawberries

Set aside and whip until fairly stiff:

• 1 c. whipping cream
• 1 t. sugar

Get a rolling pin, and roll out until nice and flat (alternately, if you can’ t find your rolling pin no matter how you try, you can get a nice big cutting board and use your hands to create a nice flat circle that’s the same size as your cake):

• 1 tube of marzipan

Once cakes are cooled, place the marzipan disc (use a spatula to lift it from the board) on top of one cake.

Then place the strawberry halves, flat side down and cut side facing out, in concentric circles on top of the marzipan.

Place whipped cream on top, and then top with top layer of cake.  You can decorate the top with strawberries or extra marzipan or more whipped cream if you like.  It’s also traditional to drizzle some chocolate over the top.  I was told to put the plain round circle on there so that’s what I did.

And we ate it and were very happy.  Then Z. said it was time to, “put your hand way out and take a picture of ourselves hugging,” so I did that too.  Hope your Mother’s Day was just as sweet and silly.

I don’t know what is happening to me, but I seem to be turning into Cursing Mommy.

We were coming home from Costco the other day, merging onto the highway.  There were three cars driving in our direction, and two of them merged into the passing lane so we could merge in.   I started to get up to speed and steer into the right-hand lane, but saw that car #3 had not yielded.  This is clearly annoying, but really not an unexpectedly big deal, right?

So what happened next is a little confusing.  A word came out of my mouth that I didn’t really know was in my vocabulary, a word so far beyond polite conversation that I can’t write it here.  It was a word that had Z. in an explosion of delight there in  the backseat:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  What’s a dushbag Mommy?!  HAHAHAHAHAHA!  DUSHBAG, DUSHBAG, DUSHBAG!  Mommy said duuuuuushbag.

Proud I was not.

Clearly I have no excuse for what came out of my mouth as I was reading about the recall of all those children’s products and realized I had given the boys the tainted medicine.  Upset, of course, but was it really necessary to provoke E. to ask:

Son of a what, Mommy?

It’s a good thing I’ve got some nice mellow dinners like this one to get myself on an even keel.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Greek Veggie Burgers
yield: about 12

Puree together in a food processor, leaving it just a bit chunky for texture

• 1 1/2 cups steamed and drained kale or spinach
• 1/2 c. chopped sauteed mushrooms
• 1 1/2 cups cooked or canned chick peas, drained

Place spinach mixture in bowl and stir in:

• 1 1/2 cups bulgur wheat (3/4 c. dry, soaked in 1 1/4 c. boiling water for 30 minutes)
• 3/4 cup vital wheat gluten
• 1/4 cup olive oil
• 1 T. tamari, soy sauce, or Bragg’s
• 1 t. chopped garlic
• 1 t. dried lemon peel
• 1 t. chopped fresh oregano or 1/2 t. dried

Form into patties, then place on baking sheet (give a little space around each, but they won’t expand like baked goods so don’t worry too much).  Bake for 25 minutes, then carefully flip with a spatula and bake for 20 more, until nicely browned.  Serve in whatever burger-y way you like.

Now I have a four-year old whose favorite word is, “stupid.”   He’s discovered its versatility, with applications like,

“I can’t have a second dessert today?  I don’t want to be part of this stupid family any more.”

“My face got wet.  This swim class is 10 amounts of STUPID!”

“My [child-centered, loving, hippy-dippy, filled-with-friends] pre-school is stupid and I’M NOT GOING.”

It’s a joy and a half, I tell you.

But still it’s spring and it’s beautiful and I crept outside this afternoon to do some gardening and before I knew it both boys had found their way out with me to dig in the dirt and water plants.  And then we spied a new neighbor’s little boy around their age and in a flash they had all armed themselves with plastic guns and were climbing the dirt pile and refusing to come in when the rain started.  It felt like childhood.

And while this was going on I was working on a clean-out-the-crisper effort, and turned some random bits of of this and that into a fully respectable and totally delicious relish.  We had it with some mashed potatoes and lamb chops I had found in the freezer and defrosted, but it would be great with some sauteed tofu, or spread on a wrap with some brie or prosciutto, or with some eggs for breakfast.

Do consider yourself warned:  it is far too stupid for ornery four-year-olds.

Fennel-Tomato-Orange Relish
Makes about 2 cups

In a large skillet heat:

• 3 T. olive oil until rippling

Add:

• 1 large onion cut into 3/4″ dice
• 1 large or 2 small fennel bulbs, white parts cut crosswise and then diced into 3/4″ pieces

Cook over medium-low heat until transparent, then add:

• 2 diced plum tomatoes
• 1 organic orange with its peel, cut into 1/2″ dice 
• 1 organic lemon with its peel, cut into 1/2″ dice
• 1/2 t. kosher salt
• finely chopped fronds from the fennel

Cook for about 10 minutes at a light bubbling simmer, then cover and cook for 30 minutes more over very low heat.  Stir 2 or 3 times and add a bit more olive oil if it starts to stick too much.  Remove lid and cook over medium heat for 5 minutes more.  Serve warm or cool and use as you like.