S'more cake

Here we go again, another idea taken too far in the name of food. What idea is this? Well, St. Alton did graham crackers, home made marshmallows, and pound cake within a three month span of my wonky memory. Put together with Ina Garden's chocolate buttercream icing and the goofy Wilton heart-shaped fill-in cake pans, and here's another experiment in the making.

In short, I took the pound cake recipe, then adjusted the flour and sugar to match what was in the graham cracker recipe. I maintained the ratio of the flour ingredients and the sugar ingredients, and ended with 13 oz. graham flour, 3 oz. AP flour, 9 1/8 oz. brown sugar, and 6 7/8 oz. molasses. The butter and eggs were the same.

Oh, just as a side note, when it calls for you to grease and flour a pan, use butter. Not nonstick spray. Take a guess why.


I was in for a rude surprise when I filled the first pan and one recipe filled... one pan. A quick whipping together of a second recipe filled the other pan plus 6 cupcakes. So keep in mind that this cake is upwards of 2 pounds of butter right now. Stick all of this in a 350 degree oven. Pull the cupcakes at 30 minutes in, or less. Start testing the actual cakes around 1:45.

Now for the chocolate buttercream. Accent on the butter.

Yeah, that's a few tablespoons into a pound and a half of butter. That's six @#$%ing sticks of butter. Mark this down, because this may be the only time you'll ever see these words in this blog: This may be too much butter.

The heart-shaped cavity is filled with marshmallow. I started with a full recipe, and there's plenty left over. But that's okay. I'll use it.

For example, as little garnishes on the cupcakes.

So... there's also this little issue of the crowns of the cake. You know, the part you have to cut off in order to level the cake. Well, we ate one because it wasn't that big. But the other one, well, it needs another application

On the left: half of the crown laid out as a cutting pattern on top of some of the leftover marshmallow. On the right: the other half frosted with chocolate buttercream. You know what's coming next.

It looks like a giant Oreo, but so, so much better.

Ah. The taste. I knew I was forgetting something.

Well, it does taste like a graham cracker, a little. I think I'll try honey next time because the molasses leads to a heavy texture. The marshmallow, well, if you have ever had home made marshmallows, you're going to have a hard time stomaching store-bought ever again. And the chocolate buttercream. Um. I have a quart of it left over. The recipe says "makes 4 cups," but that's a filthy, dirty, undercutting lie. It makes something more like 7. I'm going to have to figure out something to do with it....

Christmas 2009 cookies

Um, whoops. So much for that New Year's resolution. 25 days in, and not only is it broken, but you never heard it.

Ahem.

Okay, so, Christmas cookies. This is usually Kate's department, but since she's in grad school right now, she's a lot busy. So I took over cookie duty this year, and in true Bayani fashion, went completely overboard. Let's survey the damage....

Snickerdoodles: Classic. I love the little crunch that the caramelized cinnamon sugar brings to these cookies.

Dipping sticks: This idea came about after watching St. Alton make zabaglione. Well, it's an Italian custard, so I figured sorry Alton, but we're going with Mighty Mario this time. These are shortbread and gingerbread cookies cut into sticks suitable for dipping into marsala wine and custard. Pretty slick.

Toll house: This is pretty standard stuff too. Take the recipe from the back of a bag of chocolate chips. Then replace the chocolate chips. In this case, with some chopped up cinnamon almonds left over from the last Reniassance Faire, or chopped up pistachios. Double extra boo-yah on each of them.

Tricky business: Meringues are always a bit of a stunt. I found that using a star shaped tip rather than the usual nozzle keeps them from looking like poo. These are cotton candy flavored, somewhat ironic given that meringues are mostly sugar to begin with. And whee, pinwheels. Take a half batch of sugar cookies, half a batch of gingerbread, and render them into sheets. Roll them together into a festive log, and then slice and bake. It's pretty good for presentation, plus, if you're not completely keen on gingerbread, the sugar cookie blunts the taste a little.

Spritz: Kate got me the Cookie Gun a few years ago. It's a joy to play with. I pulled it out a couple of years ago at Tita's, and I was like, "Raoul, you wanna try?" And he was like, "Nah, I'm okay." And then I shot a batch. Then he was like, "Um, can I try?" They don't make this particular model any more, but if you can get your hands on one, it is a lot of fun.

I swiped the tin from the cookies the cleaning company left for my company in the office. It's about 16" across and 8" high. And now it's full of cookie love.

Happy holidays guys. Keep on reading, keep on eating.

Zucchini fettuccine

I blame Jimmy Buffet. You may be wondering how I got to that. Rock Band is involved. You can download "Cheeseburger in Paradise", and the lyrics just wouldn't leave my head. In particular, "Not zucchini fettuccine or bulgur wheat." That actually sounds good.

Okay, maybe not the bulgur wheat. I have no idea what that is. I don't think I've ever seen it in the grocery stores either.

Aaaaaanyway, zucchini fettuccine. I always thought it sounded good, but then I had an idea -- there's this stuff called "spaghetti squash," so named because you can get the flesh to render into spaghetti-like threads when you rake them with a fork. Zucchini's a squash, right? Hmm....

Slide your zucchini through your mandolin slicer with the large julienne attachment. And use a cut-proof glove! They're only like $25 at your local cookware store, plus they're like chainmail. Oh yeah.

I tried adding a yellow squash to the mix, but they don't take to noodling quite as well as the green ones, particularly because of the seedy middle.


Mince a handful of garlic, and french an onion.


Sweat all of that in some olive oil and some salt, then add some roasted red peppers in their liquid. Let the liquid boil off so you're down to a little oil and vegetable goodness. Over in the land of pasta, boil the fettuccine to about 1 minute short of al dente, then add your fettuccined zucchini. Boil for 1 more minute, then drain.


Throw in your oil and other vegetables, toss, and serve.


Hey, even I can go vegetarian periodically. And now, for a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat. And maybe a margarita.

Starfruit

Hi, hello, I'm back, and I bring another act for What The? Theater. This one needs a little backstory. When I was 10, my Mom brought me and my brothers to the Philippines to meet her side of the family. We're out there in the Batangas, a rural area. And there under a tree were a bunch of starfruit, fallen on the ground. Little math geek Bayani is immediately drawn to a food that has its own strong sense of geometry. Naturally, I reach down for one, figuring I can wash it off.

"Don't eat that," Mom says.

"Why not?" I ask.

"That's not for people to eat. We feed that to the pigs." And I left it at that.

Years and years later, I'm cruising through the local grocery store, and what do I see?

That's right. Pig food at $2.99 a whack. But the real "What the?" moment came a few months ago when starfruit appeared in the basket on Chopped. (Food Network show. Look it up.) And there's Alex Guarnaschelli saying, "Starfruit has a light, delicate flavor that's really wonderful." In pig food? What the?

I grab a couple of them and decide to solve the mystery for myself.

It's citrusy alright. Take a look at the cross section. It's like... when was the last time you had artificial "tropical fruit" flavored drink? It's just like that. Yeah, I was pretty thrown too! Now there is this nasty little problem about those seeds up the middle. But we can solve that when you think citrus again -- supremes. A gentle little knifework will extract fingers of tropical sweetness for you to enjoy.

Of course, in What The? Theater, we can't leave it there. Well, here's something else we haven't tried at Watch Us Eat! yet: a drink. I've got the supremes of two starfruit in my shaker with some mint leaves and a shake of sugar. I'm not a bartender like Raoul is, but you know what? I bet he doesn't own a muddler either (Christmas gift!) I improvise with the butt end of the strainer and muddle away.

The rest of it is pretty standard mojito procedure.

Top it off with seltzer, club soda, or lemon lime soda. Nice and refreshing.

Give it a try. I can think of dumber things to do with $5.98.

Chicken Pot Pie, Part Two: Something Clever Regarding Pie

Welcome back! It's Day 2 of our little project, and while this stage requires more work, we don't have to wait four hours for it's conclusion. Forgive the size of the pictures today; I was in a hurry, so everything came out blurry. Hey, that rhymed. I'm so clever. Anyway, smaller pictures are forgiving, so you'll have to deal with 400x300 imaging for this round.

Now that we have assembled our stock, our chicken meat, and our schmaltz, it's time to put them to work. But first, our mise en place!

(of course, for those of you qui ne parle pas le francais, that means "stuff we's gon toss into other stuff.)

Behold, our vegetation!

Nothing exciting here. Yes, those pearl onions and peas are frozen. They're easier to work with. Also, as a side note, nomming on a frozen onion is not as good an idea as it sounds. Onionsicles = thumbs down.

Other flavorants?

Mmm. Next to the garlic, you can see some grated ginger. I love ginger in any sort of chicken soupish application. Try it, you'll see what I mean. Can't identify the powdered stuff? I don't blame you, the picture sucks. That's dried thyme, ground allspice, and fresh-grated nutmeg. Not in that order, though.

Now that we've got all our ducks in a row, let's hop to the action. Chicken pot pie gravy, like all good thickened-broth things, starts with a roux. And a roux, as you all know, is equal parts fat and flour...

(in tonight's performance, the part of fat will be played by schmaltz, bolstered with butter.)

...mixed together over low heat until it tans into a pasty concoction.

To this, we add, in order, two quarts of stock, a healthy dose of salt and pepper, the spices and whatnot, and the vegetation. Bring all this to a boil, and you've got:

Soup! Gravy, technically, but whatever. Regardless of what you want to call it, we still have to stir in one last ingredient.

Fare thee well, Murray. You have served us nobly. Now get in there.

Whew. Fun times. Now just ladle into a big ol' baking dish...

Top with rounds of puff pastry...

And bake! And if you've been a really good boy/girl, Santa will swap out that gooey mess you put into the oven for this:

Ta da! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my first attempt at chicken pot pie. I'll be honest, it was a bit of a disappointment in places. The gravy was far too watery, the puff circles were limp and flat. But it still tasted darn good. And the recipe had a lot of soup left over... I think I'm going to freeze it and take another swing at this in the future. A little extra thickening, some fancier puff pastry work, and I think I'm there.

Cheers, kids. I'll see you on the morrow. I think.

Chicken Pot Pie, Part One: The Brothening, Part Two: Extrication at Dusk

Just a little side note 'bout little Murray - he likes to float. So how do I keep him submerged?

That's right, a small glass bowl will do just fine. Really, any heat-resistant ceramic or glass thingamajig will do. It's not like the stock's at a rolling boil; it's at around 185 degrees or so.

So it's been four hours now. Let's see how ol' Murray's doing.

Hmm. Doesn't look so appetizing, does it? Well, it's not supposed to. After all, we just boiled all the flavor out of a chicken and two pounds of his vegetable friends. Well, maybe not all the flavor, but certainly most of it. The smell, though... mmph. It's serious.

Since we need the meat for the pot pie tomorrow (really, it's the only part of Murray that has any flavor left), let me extricate Murray...

...and pull out the leftover vegetation.

See why I used a pasta strainer pot thing stuff pants? Now, with one fell swoop, I am left with a pot full of liquid chicken.

Mmm. Deelicious.

Okay, that's enough work for today. Let's take a minute and see what we've produced here, shall we? We have:

Three pints of shredded chicken meat. One quart white, one pint dark.

A little under a gallon of chicken stock. And, last, but not least...

A wee bit of schmaltz. Measuring cup says 1/3 cup, and I'm not about to argue. Pyrex is a tough debate opponent.

Well, that's all for tonight. See you tomorrow, kids!

Chicken Pot Pie, Part One: The Brothening

That's it. Camera or no, I'm getting tired of not posting.

Turns out I've been doing a lot of cooking lately, of all shapes and sizes. I've done salads, I've done chili dogs, I've done pork tenderloin with blueberry-cheddar pastry puffs... you name it, I've been futzing around with it. So rather than try to backtrack and fill you in, I'm just going to go ahead and chronicle what I'm up to right now.

For those of you who, by Fate's rancorous hand or Chance's fickle affections, have not yet heard, a-well-a bird bird bird, buh-bird is the word. My doting aunt was kind enough to bring by a family-farmed, raised without antibiotics, free-roaming chicken. Ch-check it out:

Now, what the difference is between this little fella and an organic chicken eludes me at the moment. I can at least hope that he wasn't raised like those poor clipped-beak little buggers that run around in their own filth for their pitifully brief, miserable lives that Perdue markets. That doesn't mean I don't pick up a family pack of Perdue chicken thighs when they're on sale for $1.09/lb., but I do usually have to brine them to get the guilt out.

Anyhoo, I'm-a name this little guy Murray. Looky - he looks so comfy sitting in his bathtub...

Now, I'm planning on making pot pie out of Murray, and that starts with a good chicken broth. Of course, I could have just grabbed a carton of the stuff while I was at the store scoping out meat specials and on-sale leftover Halloween candy, but where's the fun in that? I'll just make my own, and cook my chicken while I'm at it.

Roll call! Onions and garlic?

Here!

Other aromatics?

Here! Oh, hey, even Parsnip made it. How's it been, man? Really? Man, I told you that bitch was crazy. You're better off, trust me.

Oh, right. Sorry. Herbs and spices?

Here! Peppercorns, you brought your Chinese cousins? Wicked. Everybody into the pot.

At this point, you people know the drill. Add a gallon of water to the mix:

(No, I'm not so snooty as to use spring water for this, this is just easier than refilling my measuring cup a couple of times. Also, easier to photograph.)

Set on stove. Bring to a boil, then simmer for four hours.

We'll check in on little Murray then, won't we?