Shoofly!

Howard's been out of town since Friday, so I've been living as a single man, getting into wild hijinks, like drinking alone with an entire frozen pizza or maybe Ramen noodles! I've also taken a bath using what is called a "bath bomb." It sounds violent and wet, but is actually relaxing and smells wonderful. I felt like I was bathing in an avocado. But mostly I settle onto the couch, surrounded by animals, for marathon viewings of Girls and Broad City. Who knows what I'll get up to next?!

Elise graciously stepped in to socialize with me and save me from the insane life I've been leading, and last night we had a sleepover, waking up to make an avocado-feta frittata. Listening to the McGuire Sisters while cooking and talking made me nostalgic for the period we lived together.

Patrick and Chelsea were coming over for tea, and Elise and I made a shoofly pie. It's not a recipe in my Good Housekeeping book, but it should be! Elise introduced me to it, and we used a recipe from Martha Stewart.

I focused on rolling out the crust while Elise made the filling and crumble crust.

I was really proud of the crust. It didn't break, it was enough for the entire pie plate, and trimmed sweetly.

Pre-bake:

Post bake!

"Like a landscape," Patrick said

Chelsea said it reminded her of home; it was very southern. It's like a chess pie, which is a pie I'm familiar with. We all wondered where the name came from: Was it something to do with the expression "you catch more flies with honey than vinegar"? But instead of honey it was molasses? Did it mean it was so good you'd have to shoo flies away?

According to Wikipedia, the shoofly pie came from the Pennsylvania Dutch, and its name may be "because the sweet molasses odor attracts flies that must be 'shooed' away."

All this reminds me of that rather strange, manic folk song medley in Meet Me in St. Louis:

"Flies in the buttermilk shoo, shoo, shoo!"

Tea was nice and relaxing. We spent a long time talking about Leopold and Loeb. Chelsea read For the Thrill of It, which I'm halfway through. We discussed what makes a crime famous or sensational, and also tried to come up with all the famous Chicago crimes we could: The Valentine's Day Massacre, the serial killer during the World's Fair, and Leopold and Loeb. Only after everyone left did I remember John Wayne Gacy! Drat!

Post-pie. Picture Elise sitting next to Patrick!

It was a lovely way to spend an afternoon off!

Merryfield Apple Cake

The past weekend was insane at work, a constant juggling act that left me exhausted at the end of each day. Sunday I couldn't stop, though, and came home (Howard was at a writing group) and fed the pets as well as myself while simultaneously making a Merryfield apple cake for our building manager. I don't know where it gets its name, but a Merryfield cake is supposed to look something like this:

Photo from amandascookin.com

Quaint and English, isn't it? A fitting cake to make as I came to the close of George Eliot's Middlemarch. Very Victorian.

I did not feel quite so proper as I measured out flour and then mashed up canned cat food.

My recipe made two cakes, and for some reason the batter is very dry and sticky. I had trouble spreading it out in the pans (and mixing in the diced apples, nuts, and raisins was a feat!). It baked for an hour, which gave me enough time to watch the first episode of this season of Downton Abbey, where by far the winning quote of the episode was the "are they kidding me?" line: "I'm going upstairs to take off my hat." I really enjoyed this summary, where the story is told as a group text.

By the time the cakes came out of the oven I was like -

So after ten minutes cooling in their pans I took them out, put them on my cooling rack, and forgot about them. In fact, I woke up this morning, went into the kitchen, and was surprised to see them there.

Howard and I examined the bottoms of the cakes like they had landed from another planet. They looked like they could have made the journey: They were crusty and dark brown, with crevices from where pieces had stuck to the cake tins on the way out.

"Are they supposed to...?"

"Powdered sugar covers them."

"Powdered sugar won't hide that," Howard pointed to an enormous hole in the bottom. We debated for a hot minute how stuffing a bit of the other cake into it would look: More or less terrible?

Then I flipped the cake over and we were like "Ohhh!" and cracked up. It was a lot better. A softer, lighter brown, with white squares of apple. We tasted the other cake and it was good.

The crowning moment of a Merryfield cake is when you sprinkle powdered sugar through a doily.

"I need a doily," I said this morning, and then: "I never thought I'd say that!"

"Really?" Howard was skeptical.

But where does one find a doily? So we folded up coffee filters and cut out shapes like we were kids and we were making snowflakes to decorate our daycare's windows, but the filter didn't want to lie flat, so I put it under a pile of board games and left it for Howard to do in the afternoon.

I came home and asked him how it looked before he gave it to Tom. Basically, it was a clumped mess and didn't look like much of anything. It'll still taste good, though.

(Unlike my Christmas pie. Sorry, fam.)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Tom and Wife! Thanks for letting us live here with four animals. And thanks for the free storage space in the basement! Do you know whose moldy fur coat that is?

A Christmas Pie

Guess which one I am

I write this sitting on the blue couch that was in our Kentucky farm house and has been transplanted to Cleveland. The wreckage of Christmas is around me--crumpled paper, presents, and a bottle of wine I occasionally sip from. This day has been characterized by board games, cooking, and drinking.

Last night we went to a Christmas Eve service. We heard about the World War I Christmas Truce, where soldiers stopped their fighting for one day to exchange souvenirs, cigarettes, and sing Christmas carols together. It was an incredible moment of peace, where the people actually doing the fighting recognized each other's humanity, and then the next day went back to killing each other. The service, for one out of practice with church-going, was almost intolerably long. I scribbled on my bulletin: "Must practice patience, stillness, breathing, listening," and then the sermon was all about that. A long, long version of that.

I had decided to make this pie weeks ago, without really looking at the recipe. It's a Christmas pie. Here's the recipe, with my edits in bold. Merry Christmas. Safe to assume I love you, or I would if I got to know you.

Soundtrack: Sylvan Esso and Sturgill Simpson

1 9-inch Nut Crust ("Your delicious nut crust" Howard entitled an email he sent me with a picture of this recipe, which still makes me laugh, but gross)

1/2 c. sugar
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
3 eggs, separated
1 3/4 cups milk
1/4 cup chopped candied brandied cherries

3 tablespoons light rum or 2 teaspoons vanilla extract no
whipped topping in aerosol can no

EARLY IN DAY OR DAY BEFORE SERVING OR LIKE AT FIVE THIRTY, AN HOUR BEFORE DINNER, WHICH IS WAY TOO LATE BY THE WAY: Prepare piecrust in the process burning out the coffee grinder, then chopping the nuts by hand, and bake crust for 8 minutes, or until you realize the timer has stopped for some reason, using Brazil nuts pecans; cool. Meanwhile, in medium saucepan, stir 1/4 cup sugar with gelatin until mixed. In small bowl, with wire whisk or hand beater, beat egg yolks with milk until mixed; stir into gelatin mixture. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring, until mixture is thickened and coats spoon at point of curdling; remove from heat. Refrigerate Freeze, because there isn't much time, until mixture mounds when dropped from spoon, about 40 minutes. Yes, still about forty minutes, for some insane reason. WHY DOES THIS TAKE SO LONG?
At this point, you are 1.4 beers in on an empty stomach, so it's getting a little harder to manage your smaller motor skills. With hand beater, beat mixture until smooth, stir in cherries and rum.
In small bowl, with mixer at "high" speed, beat egg whites until soft peaks form you've had enough. Beating at "high" speed, gradually sprinkle in 1/4 cup sugar, beat until sugar is completely dissolved. With wire whisk or rubber spatula, gently fold whites into gelatin mixture. Spoon filling into crust; refrigerate freeze until set Scrooged is over, about 4 hours 101 minutes.

Guest Post by Howard Simmons: Grasshopper Pie

Thursday was Michael’s birthday, so I’ve offered to write his blog this week. I also made a pie for him, but whatever.

Besides cats, Michael loves chocolate and mint (preferably together), so he kindly told me that I was going to make him a grasshopper pie. Me being the awesome boyfriend, I agreed, because that’s what awesome boyfriends do. And the fact that I knew people would read this and think “what an awesome boyfriend” helped as well. I crave approval.

Anyway, here are the ingredients:

Grasshopper Pie

Chocolate-Wafer Crumb Crust (I made this too *pats self on back*)

1 Envelope Gelatin (unflavored, obviously)

Sugar (the book just says sugar, but in the end you’ll use ½ cup)

1/8 teaspoon salt

3 eggs, separated (this is fun and gross at the same time)

¼ cup crème de menthe

¼ cup cold coffee

1 cup whipping cream

Angelica for garnish (I ignored this because I believed my pie would be so gorgeous I wouldn’t need garnish to distract from mistakes. What is angelica anyway?)

Chocolate-Wafer Crumb Crust

Oreos (about half a package)

Butter (about 1/3 cup)

Okay, so after preheating the oven to 375 degrees, I started on the crust, which allowed me to combine two of my favorite things: Oreos and sharp blades spinning very fast:

Basically you just pulverize the hell out of those delicious cookies until they’re completely crushed, much like your dreams after you graduated college.

Feel free to eat any large pieces that refuse to be broken up (Pro tip: Before grabbing cookie pieces, turn off blender!).

Next, dump them into a bowl and pour the melted butter on them (oh yeah, you have to melt the butter first). Then stir until it’s a tempting, heart-clogging crumbled mess. Then simply pour into your pie dish, and press down on them until you think, “That looks about right.” Bake for eight minutes then set aside to cool.

At this point, I was beginning to worry that I was moving too slowly, because Michael’s friend Elise and beau Josh were coming over for dinner, and there was still so much to do. However, I did not increase my rate of speed, just my level of worry.

So the recipe was divided into four steps, but basically it can be boiled down into Egg Whites and Egg Yolks. I separated the eggs, which is pretty easy – just crack the shell and, while holding both portions of the shell over a bowl, transfer the yolk back and forth between halves. Much like the contents of my father’s stomach on a fair ride, the egg whites can’t take the constant motion and they come spilling out in a disgusting ooze down into the bowl waiting below. Then you just put the yolk in a separate bowl. Easy peasy.

Egg Yolks: These yellow balls of cholesterol are combined with ½ cup of water and whisked. When it’s good and frothy, you add it to a saucepan in which you’ve already placed the gelatin, ¼ cup sugar and the salt. Stir it a few time and give it about 10 minutes. (Pro tip: Turn on the stovetop to a low heat! Gelatin thickens faster when there’s actually heat on the burner. Something I’ve just now learned!) It’ll go from dark green to bile yellow.

At this point, remove from heat. Normally, you would add the crème de menthe, but our local liquor store, cash only and with the motto “we’re sold out of that” (that being anything besides flavored vodka and Bud Light Lime), didn’t have crème de menthe, but it did have peppermint schnapps (which is delicious and a great throwback to that high school party where you sat on the back porch with your best friend and wondered why Ryan didn’t like you, even though you would be so good for him). So add the peppermint schnapps and cold coffee.

The egg yolk mixture is to be refrigerated, yet constantly stirred, for 20 minutes. However, other things took my attention and 40 minutes later Michael and I were staring at something that looked Nickelodeon Gak©®™

Being the quick thinker I am, I put the mixture back on the stovetop on low heat, until it resembled the consistency of “unbeaten egg white” as the recipe called for. Unfortunately, not all of the pieces of gelatin melted again, so it remained a bit “chunky.” In fear, I showed it to Michael, who was enjoying the week off by shopping online for a Christmas present for me (or at least I think that’s what he was doing). Michael remained admirably stoic, although I could tell that he was reconsidering spending his life with a man who couldn’t be trusted to follow a 45-year-old recipe. I also don’t think he ordered that iPad upgrade for me, either.

Anyway, that problem addressed, I turned my attention to the egg whites. I used Michael’s mixer to beat those egg whites like (insert inappropriate domestic abuse joke here). Once the eggs are peaking softly, the remaining ¼ cup of sugar is added slowly until dissolved (still using the mixer – this time at a medium speed and not full tilt like before). Then you “fold” it into the egg yolk mixture. “Folding” sounds intimidating, but it’s basically stirring it from the bottom up, and slowly at that.

Finally, the cream is whipped into stiff peaks and folded in as well. You dump it all on the crust and refrigerate. This is what it looked like when I was done:

  

Note the golden gelatin chunks, which, it can be argued, some might find appealing. Maybe.

And that’s it.  Basically you just refrigerate it until it sets completely then serve.

When Michael and I first began dating, I was a little dubious about his choice of recipe books, to be honest. As a child, when my mom cracked open one of her Good Housekeeping recipe books, nothing good could follow (my brother and I still remember with horror one particular asparagus casserole.) I mean, once upon a time, culinary sophistication was the following:

(Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised to find the second recipe in this book. Good Housekeeping loves them some gelatin.)

But each week he’s surprised me by creating something delicious while remaining pleasingly old-fashioned (in the same way that bell-bottoms are old-fashioned). The grasshopper pie was no different, as it proved very tasty. And most importantly, the beautiful birthday boy enjoyed it. Which, in the end is all that matters, really. I love that guy.

Peppermint Pie: The Family Dollar Edition

Lord, I love me some Christmas. I am full hog embracing that this year. I introduced Howard to the amazing Muppets Christmas Carol, which he has since been obsessed with (to my joy). We've been listening to a lot of "It Feels Like Christmas" lately. In the spirit of the season, Howard and I went to the Brown Elephant to buy used ornaments, picking through other people's abandoned mementos. Tonight, with the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas playing, we made a peppermint pie. There are a few variations on this pie, including this one from Rocky Mountain Cooking, which uses Oreos for the crust and booze!

I thought it looked tasty, but it was completely different from my recipe, so I just opted with the Good Housekeeping version. I had to buy actual peppermints, which our grocery store doesn't carry, so I ventured across the street to Family Dollar, which, if you haven't been, is a similar to a post-apocalyptic nightmare:

"Excuse me, where are the peppermints?" 

There, a very well-dressed, nicely-coiffed young man (however, milksop is the description that comes to mind), younger than me, lingered over a junky children's toy. Like he was considering if it would actually make his niece happy, or maybe if it would just suffice.

How I feel about picking out your Christmas presents at Family Dollar:

For some reason, peppermints are super hard to find. I circled the war-torn Christmas candy stand, finding a lot of bubblegum-flavored candy canes, OLD-FASHIONED HARD CANDIES in a tin, and most horrifyingly, what they call a "fruitcake."

Who I imagine eats Family Dollar Fruitcakes: 

#fuckyeahsaturdaynight

I approached an employee, who was in the midst of the Sisyphean task of stocking and organizing Family Dollar. Wiping away sweat and maybe tears, she immediately located and delivered me a bag of the much-needed candies, which Howard later hammered on our kitchen floor:

Inspired by Rocky Mountain Cooking, I did make the crust out of Oreos, which is great! It looks pebbly and tastes...like buttery Oreos. Which of course is delicious.

The pie itself is very fluffy, pretty-pink and peppermint. It's great for this time of year and would also be a sweet Valentine's Day treat.

Worth it.

Spicy Gingerbread Cake

With my Christmas playlist "Eggnog" in the background, I made Good Housekeeping's spicy gingerbread cake today. For a change, I didn't need to buy a lot of ingredients for this one. It calls for flour, molasses (the only thing I didn't have), sugar, shortening, an egg, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, salt, and cloves. Super easy! Great for the season and a lazy day where I read in bed until about noon, but still wanted to do something productive-sounding.

I've never used molasses before, and expected it to be thicker and slower. "Slow as molasses," is something people say, so I didn't expect it to pour so gracefully from the bottle. It's very dark and silky. When it poured onto the mountains of flour it made little rivers and lakes, rolling thickly in the white powder like mercury.

While I write with a French bulldog on my lap, it bakes for 55-60 minutes at 350, and once it's cooled I'll frost with "4-minute" frosting (sugar, egg whites, corn syrup, vanilla extract and salt).

Cakes this easy are a quick way to boost your self esteem. "Look what I can do!"

Tomorrow will be the anniversary of my grandma Ginny's birthday, and we're always thinking about her around this time. She had such a sweet tooth--she loved soda, bourbon balls, and sin brownies, among other things. I found an email exchange between my mom and me about her sin brownies from when I was studying abroad in England. I wanted to make them for a potluck, so she sent me the recipe and we talked about GG. My mom wrote: "She loved chocolate and sweets, and made these often. They were always a big hit. She liked to pass the leftover caramels around to us while the brownies were in the oven. She was really indulgent when it came to sweets. Luckily we weren't all big as balloons because of it!"

The family is remarkably fit.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find caramels or German chocolate cake mix (and didn't think to make that from scratch) in Sainsbury's, so I went with a savory family classic: spinach casserole.

The cake is out of the oven, and it expanded quite a bit!

Now I'm off to visit with friends for the day, and will frost and enjoy this spicy cake tonight, or maybe tomorrow. I'm excited!

"It tastes like a prune": Vegan Mince Pie

The weeks are spinning by so fast, and Christmas is only 22 days away, as the Christmas Countdown Bar someone downloaded at work keeps reminding me (thanks, I didn't forget I have ALL my Christmas shopping yet to do). But see, I'm getting ahead of myself. Thanksgiving happened, though you may have missed it--it was squeezed in somewhere between controversy about stores opening the day before Black Friday and actual Black Friday.

My Thanksgiving was spent with wonderful friends of Howard's (now mine, too) in St. Louis. Since the mother of our host made three pies my offer of sour cream pumpkin pie was politely looked over. In truth, it was kind of nice to sit on the couch with the guys, feet up, dogs around, watching football. But don't think I watched football. I read Middlemarch.

My Thanksgiving pie was for the vegan Thanksgiving with coworkers. A bit ago I made the mincemeat, which I think I sort of slurred over when writing about hot toddies. Mincemeat is such an old-fashioned pie. It used to be made with actual meat and eggs and gradually bastardized into just a spiced fruit pie. If you buy normal mincemeat in a jar it often contains suet. What's suet? It sounds lyrical, like a song sung by two Susan. In fact, it's kidney fat from a cow or lamb. I don't think my vegan coworkers would have appreciated that addition, so I adapted a vegan recipe from Joy of Baking, making lots of exceptions for my wallet and our local grocery mart.

My mincemeat contained:

4 T vegetable shortening
1 c apple juice
2 apples peeled and grated
1/2 c golden raisins
1 c dried currants
1/2 c dried cranberries
1/2 c dried cherries
1/2 c dried prunes
zest and juice of one orange
2/3 c brown sugar
1/3 c dark rum
1/3 c brandy
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t nutmeg
1/4 t ginger
1/4 t cloves
1/4 t salt

Old people read that and be like:

PRUUUUUNES!!!!!

You bring it all to a boil and then simmer until almost all of the liquid is evaporated, then you add a bit more booze, cool, cover, and refrigerate until needed. I had it sitting for nine days and it was fine. I took a swig of brandy and stirred in a little more before putting it in the crust.

Howard put it in the oven for me, since I had to work all day before the party, and said he didn't think it looked "golden" enough, so melted some butter, took out the pastry brush, and was just about to give it a nice buttery glaze when he remembered he was about to attend a vegan dinner.

Close call.

If I say so myself, my lattice was the best I've made so far. And do I have a picture of the complete pie? Of course not. But here's the last piece, which I'm getting ready to eat:

Looks like it dragged itself to the rim of the pie plate to die, guts trailing, but it's good, trust me. It's really dense, nicely spiced, and I like the tiny bursts of fruit. At the party, Susanna squinted and said: "It tastes like a prune. But...like, good." I'll take that.

Not sure you could get a clear survey of how the desserts were, because by the time we ate them everyone was a little tipsy. And by that I mean most of us had had more whiskey-cider drinks and mulled wine than was altogether good for us. My Hangover Breakfast was this:

Note the Emergen-C and assortment of pills (also that weird Buddha Hand fruit in the background--I didn't have that for breakfast).