Archive: Crafty/Tasty

Two weeks after I visit my sister in DC, she and her boyfriend are coming up to our house to hang out. They’ve never met Ted, so we’ll hang out at the house, play Guitar Hero, and go out for food, and I am so excited. It’s fun to see them in DC, but it’s even more fun to show them around our little Pennsylvanian hamlet, not to mention share the charms of our puppy.

Whenever I see my sister, there is one staple: baked goods. She claims she can’t bake, but I think it’s a front to coerce me into making something for her, as though I needed second bidding. We were chatting about the visit up to “the country,” as she calls it, and I reminded her to let me know what she wanted me to make ahead of time so that I could have it ready, rattling off items that have elicited jealous pangs from her. Pretzels? Big cookies? Raspberry bars?

“How about cream cheese brownies?” she asked.

Uh, way to suggest something I’ve never made, Zeister.

But, hey! This week’s Whip It Up theme is cheese, so what better time is there to experiment? Nic pointed out correctly that cream cheese is not actually cheese, in the production sense, but for the purposes of this challenge, we have let that detail slide. With that, I found a suitable recipe for the brownies at Smitten Kitchen and got to work.

Method
From the start, I fidgeted with the recipe because I did not need a 9×13″ pan of experiment brownies, and I figured that I could halve the ingredients and end up with a nice 8×8″ batch for testing purposes. Most of the reduction was a piece of cake, but eyeballing one half of a beaten egg for the cream cheese filling was no fun. If nothing else, for the purpose of reducing the cake flour and sugar measurements for the brownie batter, I learned that there are four tablespoons in a quarter cup. Who knew? I work better in the metric system, where the conversions make sense, for the love of all that is good.

The process was very easy to follow, which was not surprising since Deb adapted her recipe from what I’m sure was an already sound method from Cook’s Illustrated. I was rather inefficient with my use of dishes because I did not catch the detail that I would add everything to my melted chocolate, rather than the other way around, so do yourself a favor and melt your chocolate and butter in the biggest bowl you can. Also, I highly recommend the use of the foil sling for brownies to make removal and cutting so significantly easier. However, beware of using “the tip of a knife” to swirl the cream cheese and chocolate layers together; I was sure at certain points that I had punctured my foil lining. Next time, I would use the handle of spoon or a chopstick for a narrow, blunt swirling utensil. What, I wasn’t supposed to use a steak knife?

Taste
I cut up the brownies to have as dessert for a get-together this week, but JG and I shared one to make sure they were, uh, edible. I chose a brownie with a higher proportion of cream cheese swirl so we could properly test that portion of it, and we both took thoughtful bites. The brownie was moist, very chocolate-y, and pleasantly sweet, but we couldn’t exactly taste the cream cheese. In fact, if I had been blindfolded I may not have even picked up on the swirled layer.

Repeat appearance
JG had a quick solution to the wimpy cream cheese taste: double the filling. So, next time (because, oh, there will be a next time), I will halve the brownie batter as I did this time, but make a full portion of the cream cheese batter. That’s more of a relief than anything, since I won’t have to guess at what half of an egg looks like. I think I might try out one more test batch to make sure the proportion is right; after all, someone has to make sure that my sister doesn’t eat an out-of-whack brownie. I’m taking one for the team!

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Of all the “to try” pockets in my recipe binder, the tightest-packed one is definitely the pasta pocket. I adore pasta. I will eat it in any form, at any temperature, for any meal, at any time. It is my carb of choice; I will eschew the bread at Italian restaurants so as to leave room in my stomach for the main event. For one of my birthdays, my mom threw me a “pasta fest,” with three different types of pasta with all different sauces. I think I should do that again sometime…

To satiate my bottomless pit of pasta love, I am constantly searching out new ways to work with what some (misguided) folks may consider a tired, has-been foodstuff, and last night, I tried a recipe for lemon fusilli that I had seen on Barefoot Contessa. I know, it’s been all lemons, all the time around here! Here’s the thing — up until recently, JG was under the impression that he did not like anything lemon, which sharply turned my love of the tangy citrus to an unrequited one. After I made a lemon basil pasta salad a couple of weeks ago, he came to the realization that he didn’t like lemony things that were meant to be sweet, like lemon squares or lemon meringue pie, but savory things were fair game.

I’ll take it! Trot out the lemony recipes!

Method
Ina’s recipe was surprisingly simple and easy to follow. Whenever I watch her, I have my doubts that the processes are so clean and easy, because her garlic comes peeled, her water comes boiled, and her baking sheets come greased. It must be nice! This time, I took cautionary measures against being flustered (as is my custom with a new dinner recipe) by chopping the garlic, zesting and juicing the lemons, and reducing the broccoli to florets before I started anything else. I took a little longer to make the dish than I should have, but at least I wasn’t stressed out.

I made a few tweaks to the ingredient list:

• I used tricolor rotini because I couldn’t find fusilli at the store.
• I omitted the third lemon to save JG’s taste buds, and I didn’t quite understand why Ina just tosses one in at the last minute.
• I substituted baby spinach for the arugula.
• I only used a handful of tomatoes because I would be the only one eating them.

I also opted to use the same water to blanch the broccoli and cook the pasta. Even with our household “you cook, I clean” policy, I like to be economical with my dish use. Why dirty up two pots when they were both for boiling water? Sure, the broccoli turned the water a little green, but that didn’t make a difference. The only trouble I had with the process was getting my cream sauce to simmer properly, but that is no fault of the recipe; I still have not figured out how to do it on our electric stove. One would think that almost three years in a house would have taught me that, but alas, no. Overall, the recipe proceeded just as Ina had predicted, and there were no unpleasant mishaps along the way.

Taste
The tradition at our dinner table is that whoever doesn’t cook gets to take the first serving, so JG dug in to the pasta before I got a chance. Now, I had already given him the disclaimer that I had reduced the lemony goodness so that there would be less chance of a “too much lemon!” complaint, but JG smacked his lips and said, “It’s definitely lemony, but it’s good!” I sprinkled Parmesan cheese on my helping, and took a bite. Yes, the two lemons’ zest and juice made the dish distinctly lemony, but the creamy base softened the acidity. The pasta had soaked up the sauce nicely, and there was barely any left pooling at the bottom of the dish. This dinner didn’t need meat to be filling because it was plenty hearty from the broccoli, tomatoes, and spinach.

Repeat appearance
JG declared, “Put it in the rotation!” and the recipe is now safely tucked away in one side of a clear plastic sleeve. This dish is easy and filling, and I packed up three lunch-sized portions after dinner. I’m glad to add it to the repertoire, and it’s a handy meatless option. In the future, I will retain the changes I made to the recipe, in addition to lightening up the sauce a bit by using equal portions of cream and milk. JG also requested that I chop the spinach more finely than I did last night, since I just ran my knife through it roughly. But don’t misinterpret my tinkering! This lemon fusilli is simple to make and really tasty, and I highly recommend it.

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It’s time to kick off Whip It Up, the challenge to try at least one new recipe each week for two months! My first experiment for the challenge came from The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, which is just one fabulous cookbook choice up for grabs for the successful Whip It Up participant who wins the raffle.

Anyway! I have always wanted to try to make strawberry shortcake. It’s one of those nostalgic, American dishes that people can’t help but enjoy, and I am always on the quest for non-chocolate desserts. For our little 4th of July celebration at home, JG made a grilled potato salad to go along with enormous New York strip steaks, and the strawberry shortcake was a lovely, light dessert.

Method
Although the process was somewhat lengthy, the recipe instructions were very straight-forward. Since the dessert was just for JG and me, I halved the original recipe, and the only tricky part was estimating half of a beaten egg for the shortcakes, which I made before dinner. I did not have a biscuit cutter, so I used a medium-sized drinking glass, instead. Once the shortcakes came out of the oven after 12 minutes of baking time, I realized that I had forgotten to brush the tops with egg white and sprinkle them with sugar. Oh, well.

The strawberry filling was easy enough, although using a potato masher was a bit violent for my taste. The only thing left was the whipped cream, which was my only new technique of this recipe. I had made biscuits before, though not sweet ones, but the whipped cream was a whole different animal. Its short recipe was rife with pictures showing the dire consequences of overbeating, so I erred on the side of caution. Regardless, watching my half cup of heavy cream transform into a fluffy whipped topping was nothing short of magical, not to mention knowing that it was not infused with preservatives or any such chemicals.

Taste
I carefully assembled the first shortcake for JG, and I was pleased that the biscuit split easily down the center with a fork, like an English muffin. I warily watched him slide his fork into the layers of shortcake, whipped cream, and fruit, and then take that first bite.

“It’s good!”

Phew. I made up my own serving, but with blueberries for a more patriotic feel, and it was light, summery, buttery, and sweet. I hardly missed the forgotten sugar glaze on the shortcake, and the fruit oozed pleasantly into the bottom half of the buiscuit. Americana, here I come.

Repeat appearance
I would definitely make this strawberry shortcake again. The combination of flaky shortcake, sweet fruit, and light cream was exactly what I wanted, and the constituent parts of the recipe were not excessively challenging. Next time, I would try not to forget the sugar glaze on the shortcake, and I might simply chop up the strawberries, rather than using the potato masher, to have a more visually pleasing filling. In the case of a larger party, I would make the shortcakes ahead of time, but I think both the strawberry filling and the whipped cream could be prepared about an hour before serving and kept chilled. However, it is noteworthy that the time spent from making the biscuits, preparing the fruit filling, whipping the cream, and assembling each serving is significant, so I would not undertake the full recipe under any sort of time restraint. That said, the shortcake is delicious. If you have the time and energy, this dessert is worth it.

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After my failed attempt at the perfect lemon cookie, Stephanie alerted me to a recipe for key lime cookies that she thought might do well with a substitution of lemon for lime. Intrigued by the shortcake nature of the final product, I printed out the recipe for future reference.

The recipe originally hailed from good old Betty Crocker, and its homespun origins made me feel rather quaint, even as I said a little eulogy for my arteries in light of the whole, staggering cup of butter. With powdered sugar, cornstarch, and flour, the dough came together easily, and it looked quite festive with its flecks of lime zest. Because I cannot leave well enough alone, I sloshed a little margarita mix into the dough. Hey, my lime didn’t yield quite enough zest, and the mix was lime-flavored, so what harm could it do? The rest of the shaping process was new to me, what with the flattening with a sugar-covered drinking glass, but the balls of dough flattened out nicely and without much protest. Because my kitchen was roaring hot, and my hands were too warm to handle such a buttery dough, I chose to drop the cookies rather than roll them out, and I think the crinkly edges impart a certain rustic charm. At least, that’s what I told myself at the time.

After eight minutes in the oven, my cookies emerged with slightly golden crusts, but they were pleasingly pliable when I removed them from the pan. I put together the lime glaze with some degree of trepidation since the glaze was my main downfall with the buttermilk lemon cookies. I added a bit of green food coloring, per Stephanie’s suggestion, and I, uh, may or may not have splashed in some more margarita mix at that point. Ahem. In any case, I was disconcerted because the glaze was really runny, and it wasn’t clear to me it would harden into a solid coating. I tried adding more powdered sugar to thicken it up until I realized that my strategy would render the glaze capable of eating straight through a tooth, so I finally threw caution to the wind and started glazing the cookies, despite my misgivings.

People, I think I should swear off glazes. My light green, zest-flecked glaze ran all over the cookies, instead of adhering to the centered circle I pictured. Okay, if I am really honest, I pictured a glaze that I could use to draw little semicircle lime slices. Why can’t glaze be the same consistency of puff paint? By the second wire rack of cookies, I had finally gotten used to the viscosity, and the last dozen or so appear to show much more restraint than their greedy precursors.

I reluctantly chose an ugly cookie for a taste test, and I was pleasantly surprised! Because the glaze was so thin, the cookie soaked up the sugary shock due to the shortbread texture. The crumb was nice and soft, and even with the sweetness, there was a tang of lime and tequila in the background. These cookies are a cool summer treat, and I’d make them again, but definitely for a crowd. One needs to spread out the effect of all of that butter! I wonder… what about using some rum and mint extract for a mojito cookie? Very interesting, indeed.