The Domestic Sensualist, Inadvertant Phallic Kitchen Photography and Tomato Martyrdom

Oh, domesticity! The wonder of dinner plates and cream pitchers. You know your friends by their ornaments. You want everything. If Mrs. A. has her mama's old jelly mold, you want one too, and everything else that goes with it -- the family, the tradition, the years of having jelly molded in it. We domestic sensualists live in a state of longing, no matter how comfortable our own places are.

~ Laurie Colwin, "The Lone Pilgrim"

Laurie Colwin (June 14, 1944 - October 24, 1992) was a short story writer and contributor to Gourmet Magazine.  Two of her books, "Home Cooking" and "More Home Cooking; A Writer Returns to the Kitchen" are staples in my kitchen.  Unbleached All Purpose Flour, a container of  Paula Deen's House Seasoning, homemade brown sugar, and Laurie Colwin's Home Cooking books are the only things in my kitchen that I KNOW I have on hand without checking.  (Also, Marmite. Odd since I can't stand the stuff.  Nevertheless, at least once every twelve months I buy a jar because I have heard it referenced on a BBC "Britcom" or read about it and am convinced that I MUST like it now.  But, alas I never do.  I find it repellent on its own, but hating to waste it, will incorporate it into beef bouillon, soups or stews where it gives a salty "OOMPH" but can't otherwise be recognized.)  I have owned at least three copies of the second book as I often read it while keeping a close eye on a roux, dulce de leche, or something else that needs constant minding.  Unfortunately, this means the poor darlings end up getting splattered, drenched, scorched or schmutzed. An example:



Laurie wrote in a style that makes me feel I am sitting across from her at a bistro table in a sunny kitchen nook while a cat dozes in a sunbeam at our bare feet.  I can hear her voice and imagine her gestures as she tells her stories.  I never met her or saw her interviewed and only discovered her books by accident when I picked one up in a "bargain bin" (Sacrilege!) in 1999.  When I found out she had passed away seven years earlier, I felt like I had lost a friend.  A few years ago, I was looking to see if there were other recipes of hers out there.  I found this article that illustrated just what kind of person and how kind a person Laurie was.

She often wrote of dishes in a conversational manner rather than specific, detailed recipes.  One dish that she discussed is based on vague instructions from a waiter who saw the dish made.  I played with it and came up with the following addictive, multi-tasking goop on the second try.

Last year, I was looking through Zingerman's catalog (I don't like to tell anyone what to do, but if you have not yet been introduced, to Zingerman's GO NOW. Yes, some things are expensive.  I can't imagine buying a $35 jar of what is basically Nutella, but I know if someone bought me a $35 jar of Zingerman's Guido Gobino Gianduja Hazelnut and Chocolate Cream it would be the last time I ever looked at Nutella.) and came across a Sicilian tomato reduction called estratto or "strattu."  After researching how Sicilians make strattu, I think this is a heck of a lot easier, despite the cooking time. In More Home Cooking, Laurie begins her anecdote with "The...tomato concoction has no name." (page 111) For that reason and because I am loathe to disrespect the arduous process involved in making strattu (and am even more loathe to disrespect the good Sicilians who make it), I am calling this:

Laurie Colwin's No-Name Tomato Concoction

This is "Take Two" of the "Assembled Ingredients" photo.  I had started out with the makings for a double recipe and had arranged the four cans of tomatoes in a wall of 2 x 2 cans with the olive oil in the center in front of them.  The two bulbs of garlic were nestled at the base of the olive oil bottle resembling...well,  I didn't see it until I was proofreading. However, I also see a butt print in this view out my snow dusted rear window, so maybe it was just me.

Anywhooooo...

INGREDIENTS:

Two (2) 28 oz. cans of whole plum tomatoes in juice
One (1) head of garlic, peeled and chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
One (1) teaspoon of salt
CAMERA SHY: Two (2) Tablespoons of sugar

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees,

I prefer to only make a small batch, so I use a 10 inch cast iron pot.  The pot will go in the oven to cook, so if you don't have a cast iron pot, a roasting pan will work.

Smash and roughly chop the garlic and dump the tomatoes and juice into your pan.
You can half the tomatoes if you want or even squeeze them to release the juice inside so they don't inflate with steam.  But, if you do you will miss out on some juvenile fun in an hour. Sprinkle the garlic on top of the tomatoes.  Drizzle with 1/4 cup olive oil.  Sprinkle with salt and sugar.
*The sugar helps battle any acidity from the tomatoes and bitterness from the cooked seeds.  When making traditional strattu, the tomato sauce is rigorously strained and the seeds removed.  It also helps caramelize the garlic and tomatoes.

Place in the oven and leave it for one hour.

An hour later, your house (no matter what size) smells like garlic.  (So does your neighbor's bathroom that shares a common wall. At least that is what has been reported to me.)  The tomatoes are inflated and make a great, satisfying "PFFBT!" sound when you poke them with a wooden spoon.  It is the culinary equivalent to popping bubble wrap. (If you are a real grown-up and squeezed the juice out earlier, then you will miss out on this experience and won't understand what it is you missed out on.  Poor you.) Stir the garlic into the tomatoes and leave alone for another hour.

At Hour Two, the tomatoes are starting to brown and the liquid is starting to evaporate.  Stir again and repeat at Hour Three when NNTC looks like this:

Stir and mash tomatoes and big pieces of garlic being mindful of scraping down the browned bits off the sides and bottom of the pot.  The NNTC is starting to incorporate into itself and become a paste.  At this point, you can take a piece of bread and taste to see if you need to add anything.

The mashed mixture goes back into the oven for 30 minutes.  Stir and scrape down The Concoction and back into the oven it goes for another 30 minutes.  Keep scraping and stirring until NNTC is a thick deep maroon colored paste.  A total of about 5 hours for this sized recipe.  The recipe yields about 1 1/2 cups of Laurie Colwin's NNTC.  Yep.  One and a half cups.  Let me state again that this is a MUCH less labor intensive effort than that which is undertaken by the devoted Sicilian strattu makers.  I have no doubt their product is heavenly, but an endeavor that takes 20 lbs. of tomatoes to yield a cup of strattu is some kind of tomato martyrdom.  

I like spreading NNTC on warm, crusty bread.  It is sweet, garlicky and deeply tomatoey (it's a word).  Try other options like tossing it in warm pasta or spreading it on uncooked dough, then top with fresh mozzarella and basil and bake.  Add it to jarred spaghetti sauce to add depth and to claim you made the spaghetti sauce from your own recipe.  Add to vinegar and oil for a tomato vinaigrette.  Use it as a condiment with an omelet and a glass of wine ((Nod to Elizabeth David). Spread it on wounds to heal small cuts and bruises. Okay, that last part may be going a bit far. 

 And "tomatoey" is too a word. z

I think Laurie Colwin would agree with me.

Mardi Gras, King Cakes, and That Time I Tried to Tackle a Drag Queen

Ahhhh...Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday is the last "HURRAH!" before we Catholics enter a 40 day season of penitence and spiritual reflection.  Or according to my past performance, two days of adhering to my Lenten pledge, then lying about still adhering to my chosen penance for another 38 days all the while indulging alone behind closed doors.  But, then I confess about the lying and it's cool.

One of my favorite Mardi Gras (Plural: Graux?) is one I don't actually remember.  There was naturally, a great deal of alcohol consumed. I am not going to lay blame, but I will say this: It was not my fault.  No one can go to New Orleans, Louisiana and not imbibe unless they were dead before they got there. 

(Before I go any further let's address how to address New Orleans. Write it "NOLA" and say "nyoo orluns." "New OrLEENS" is only acceptable in song and "Nyawlins" is allowed only if you are a native. Or you are given permission by a native.  If you are a non-aboriginal and do not have the required papers and say, "NAWlins" you will sound like a douche and be severely ridiculed.  Don't say you weren't warned.)

Picture it: It is 2005 and Hootie and the Blowfish, Gene Simmons and The Pointer Sisters were the Grand Marshals for the Endymion Parade.  Clearly, it was a confusing time for everyone.  We had a base camp at a lovely hotel on St. Charles Avenue.   The idea was to watch the parade from the veranda in smug gentility and superiority.  A few Dubonnet Cocktails and Abitas and the four of us were feeling more superior than a decent servant of our Lord and Savior should, and well... gentility got flushed down the crapper never to be seen again.

It was a Saturday night in NOLA and the Saturday night before Mardi Gras means the people watching is FANTASTIC. I am a great fan of people watching as I am rather socially awkward and would prefer to be sitting on the sidelines observing than making a butt of myself and then fixating on every nuance of my embarrassment for the rest of my life. Seriously, I do that.

Well, we were watching the crowd and the parade pass in amiable drunken company of a group that ranged in age from early 30's (us) to late 60's.  I was being chatted up by a man older that my father (Old guys dig me. I have no idea why.) when my attention was caught by a flash of electric blue in my peripheral vision.  I turned around and saw the MOST MAGNIFICENT DRAG QUEEN (MMDQ) I had ever seen.  She had to be 6' 5'.  I'm tellin' ya - Sista made RuPaul look like a Walmart Greeter.   Yeah. That good. So, naturally, I had to get a closer look. 

One thing that amuses and frustrates my closest friends is that when I drink I get HYPER. REAAALLLY Hyper. Hyper with a capital "H" hyper. Chihuahua puppy on crack hyper.  The crippling shyness from which I suffer and impropriety filter I usually maintain in decent society dissolves and I suddenly lack any attempt at impulse control.  (Which is why I do not often drink to excess anymore.) That being said...

I RAN hell for leather towards the MMDQ.  Luckily, I was in the company of my BFFWAPs (Best Forever Friends With Penises), the late, great Brien "BK" Kelley and Paul Ignatius Larabee. (Seriously.  His mother named him that. But, who am I to talk. More on that another day.) My BFFWAPS know me well enough to keep an eye out for any sign that I may be preparing to "tunnel out" of the prison of reasonably accepted social behavior.  Snap my leash.  Go ape cookies.  <Insert your favorite phrase>.  BK, being of sounder mind and quicker reflexes than Paul, managed to catch up to me despite my almost inhuman-like ability to easily weave through crowds. (I am 5 ft tall.  If I want to see events, I have to get to the front of the house.  Otherwise, I could be stuck looking at tramp stamps and Skoal ring outlines instead.) The MMDQ was holding court on the street and BK managed to jerk me back before I could make a lunge towards her by grabbing the hood the sweater I was wearing. (I don’t know why more parents don’t make their kids wear zipped hoodies.  It is a very effective method of restraint.  Sort of like a choke chain.)  I managed to catch her attention, as it is sort of hard for a 5ft adult woman to “blend in” when a 6’ 3” man is practically lifting her off the ground by a hooded sweater, arms forced outwards due to armhole wedgies.  It sort of looked like this:

But replace the underpants with a hoodie. And I was too entranced to cry. So it was not a “wedgie” in the classic sense. (A “hoodgie”, maybe?) So there I am dangling like a recalcitrant puppy by the scruff of its neck and say, “I like your wig! And where do you get shoes that big that aren’t fugly?!” The MMDQ responded graciously with, “Aren’t you DAHR-LIN! And online, of COURSE!” Now, I don’t remember this next part, but apparently I got loose and lept upon the MMDQ and attempted to touch the wig.  Now, in my defense, it was a lovely wig.  A pageboy cut that was so blue it hurt your eyes.  Anyways, The MMDQ must have been used to this sort of attention, because she took it in stride.  BK dragged me away and the night went on. 

I never thought to see The MMDQ or the wig again.  I felt she was destined to be my great white, whale. (I cannot bring myself to call her “Moby Dick.” It just seems wrong.) However, a few nights later we were again on the veranda and we were having a “Sing for Your (Liquid) Supper” thing happening. I sang the only song that came to mind (besides the theme song to “Silver Spoons”, natch) which was Judy Garland’s “Rock-a-Bye Your Baby (with a Dixie Melody).” (I remember NOTHING about that, but I do know the oh-so-politically incorrect words to the song, so it is plausible.) Well, of COURSE, if there is any reference to Judy, Barbra or Bette, the attention of a certain section of the community is liable to be engaged.  Well, wouldn’t you just KNOW it! The MMDQ witnessed my performance! I did not recognize her because she was wearing a different wig.  (A blond one sort of like the one Frenchy wore to Rydell’s dance in “Grease.” You know the one.  Meh.)  We invited her and her entourage up to the veranda for some Dubonnet Cocktails and chatted a bit.  (BK said he did this to avoid the possibility of me being prosecuted for assault.  Whatever.) She and her court left, but returned a little while later with a Winn-Dixie bag.  I was called to the front of the veranda where I was presented with the MOST MAGNIFICENT ELECTRIC BLUEBERRY WIG. I wore it for the rest of the night and part of the next day.  I would have worn it on the flight home, but Paul wouldn’t let me.

Laissez les bon temps rouler, ya’ll.

Anyways…the King Cake.  It is basically a big honking cinnamon bun filled with raisin and pecan goo. (MMM..."goo.")  There are places that offer cream cheese or marzipan or other fillings but, WHY? It is then iced with confectioner's sugar and water goo (MMM...more "goo.") and decorated with Mardi Gras colors of purple (representing justice), green (faith) and gold (power).  After it is baked, a trinket (often a plastic baby representing Baby Jesus.  You can find them with the favors in the Baby Shower aisle of a craft store.  if not, then use a dried kidney bean or a dubloon or something else.  Be creative. I can't be expected to do everything.) is pushed up into the bottom of the crust. (A baby is pushed up into bottom crust. I just grossed my own self out.)  Traditionally, where there are lots of King Cake Parties, the person who gets the baby is to provide the cake at the next party.  I took a cake into work and declared that whoever found it would choose a cookie, cupcake or muffin to be baked and shared in their honor. The idea was a hit.
  

Assembling Your Team

PASTRY:

1 cup milk

1/4 cup butter

2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast

2/3 cup warm water (110 degrees F/45

degrees C)

1/2 cup white sugar

2 eggs

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

5 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

FILLING:

1 cup packed light brown sugar (By the way: If you don't have any or the brown sugar you have is as hard as a brick, you can put a cup of white sugar in the bowl of a food processor and add 1 1/2 Tablespoons of molasses for light brown and 3 Tablespoons for dark.)

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

2/3 cup chopped pecans

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup raisins

1/2 cup melted butter
Two plastic babies, two dried kidney beans or two trinkets to place in cake once it has finished baking.

ICING:
1 cup confectioner's or "powdered" sugar
1 tablespoon water (or more; See Note below)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract (Or my favorite, Fiori di Sciilia; If you spill it on you, no worries. You will smell GLORIOUS.)

Lightly coat a large bowl with vegetable oil and place the ball of sweet dough* the prepared bowl.  Spray a sheet of cling film lightly with cooking oil, cover and place the bowl in a warm area until the dough has doubled in size-about 2 hours.  While it is rising, prepare the filling by mixing all the ingredients together.  Set aside.

* This picture show the sweet dough already rising after about 30 minutes.  I forgot I that I wanted to take a picture. So, starting out, it looks a bit smaller. (That's what she said.) 

Now you have a brief respite from mixing or kneading, so take a nap, watch a move that runs an hour and 45 minutes or clean up the kitchen.  Or run out to pick up confectioner's or the colored sugars you will need for the icing, but forgot to pick up or thought you had on hand but don't.

Or, fix a Dubonnet Cocktail

2 parts Dubonnet Rouge (Wegman's carries it near the port and sherry. Wegman's carries everything.)

1 part Bombay Gin

1 slice orange or lemon
2 ice cubes, plus more for shaker

Shake and then strain into a rocks glass with two ice cubes and a slice of citrus fruit.

  

After two hours, the sweet dough will have doubled.  Punch it down and then divide it in half.

Turn one of the two blobs out onto a lightly floured surface and roll out into a rectangle about 11 inches by 14 inches with the long edge toward you.  Sprinkle half the filling evenly over the dough, leaving about an inch of dough along the edge close to you clean.   Brush the edge lightly with water so it is damp, but not wet.  Then, take the long edge farthest away from you and begin rolling towards you, jellyroll style making sure the seam is on the bottom.  Sealing the seam and making sure the weight of the dough and filling are directly over it, helps mitigate the risk of the filling "pooping" out the seam.  Brush on end of the roll to dampen it.

 

 Next, take the two ends and join them to form a ring.
Place the ring on a piece of parchment paper on a cookie sheet.

Finally, take kitchen shears and snip or take a sharp knife and cut slits around the dough to vent.

Let the dough rise again until doubled-about 45 minutes.  (By the way, I have forgotten this step before and everything came out fine.)Repeat with the other ring.**
**Once you have formed a ring, you can freeze the dough. When you are ready to bake it, defrost it in the refrigerator for approximately 5 hours then let it rise in a warm place until doubled then bake as directed. OR, roll the filled dough jellyroll style then slice pinwheels about an inch wide.  Grease a 9in x13in pan and place the slices cinnamon swirl side up about 1 inch apart about on inch apart.  Let the dough double and bake for about 15-20 minutes until golden brown and the rolls sound slightly hollow when you thump them.  Then ice as directed below.

Then bake at 375 degrees F for about 30 minutes.  The bread will be brown and sound hollow when tapped when it is done.  While the cake is still warm, take a plastic baby and insert it into the ring from underneath, making sure it cannot be seen.

Let the cake cool then mix 1 cup of confectioner's sugar with 1 tablespoon of water and 1/4 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract. (The extract is optional.  I just don't like the taste of "raw" confectioner's sugar.) NOTE: You can use more water if you want a thinner "glaze."  It depends on the humidity of the room you are in, just add a little water until you reach the consistency you like.

Finally, using purple, green and gold decorating sugar, sprinkle the cake with the colors in alternating "stripes." You are done!

Here is a picture of my cake and this Year's Mardi Gras King with a refugee from the Krewe of Venus.  Or the Krewe of Kinque.  (Hard to tell.)

However, let's say for the sake of argument that you did everything right but the dough still pulled away from itself and you ended up with a horseshoe instead of a crown.  Then, make the best of the situation and tell everyone it is as tiara, not a crown and it is a Queen Cake. In true Queen fashion, work whatcha got!

And that reminds me...I still have that electric blue wig.  But, my days of scaling 6'5" drag queens are now over.  Nowadays, Zack will take it out of the closet when he needs to feel pretty.

 

Hello. My Name is Brandy and I am a Blogging Virgin.

I have resisted blogging for the longest time mainly because when I am suffering from an overwhelming need for attention, I have Facebook and most of you are kind enough to indulge my neediness by "Like-ing" what I post. (By the way, thank you for that.  A couple well-placed "Likes" have kept me off the emotional "ledge" more than once. Yeah. I am that shallow. Sue me.)
 
Another thing that held me back was that a perceived pressure associated with blogging "responsibilities."  I mean, HOLY NARDS, what if I can't think of something to say? What if I can't do it regularly?? These questions were of great concern to me.  Then I started paying attention to the blogs out there and I realized something:  There are a LOT of blogs floating about the ol' Inter Web where people have absolutely nothing to say, but blog that nothing in great detail.  So, I figure, if I don't have anything to report, I won't.  By contrast to a great deal of blogs out there, mine could make a nice contrast. Or not. Whatever.
 
Lately I have been wanting to share not just what I am doing or cooking, but how I am making my current projects or recipes happen. Although it may seem extremely egotistic for someone with such a poor self image, sometimes I think I am quite clever. (Several factors must be present for me to think this. Like when my medication hits their marks. Or my hair does what I want it to do right when I want it to do it. Or when I am not retaining more water than Hoover Dam. Or when all three happen at once! A phenomenon I like to call "The Hat Trick of Happy Coincidences.")This surge in positive self-esteem usually passes as quickly as it arrives, so I though I had better record the episode when I could.
 
Anywhooooo....Yesterday was bitterly cold.  When we have that type of weather, I like heating and humidifying the house by baking and having a pot bubbling on the stove and decided last night that I would spend today in the kitchen.  I looked through the cupboards, refrigerator and pantry to see what I could pull together without having to go out get missing ingredients. Grocery shopping the day of the Super Bowl? In the words of the inimitable Toni Winner (the person want to be when I grow up): "I'd rather eat a bug.". (NOTE: I can spell "inimitable", but have the dangedest time saying it.) 
 
After I took stock, I decided on Polish Pickle Soup and having found an unopened packet of caraway seeds bought for a discarded recipe idea for New Year's Day, thought to accompany it with Caraway Seed Bread.  So last night I began the easy but, 14 hour long process to baking this crusty bread and then started the soup this morning.  Polish Pickle Soup is one of those culinary animals that upon hearing the title makes the uninitiated and/or unadventurous think, "What the ...?"  If you like dill pickles and you like potatoes, this simple and hearty soup will warm body and soul from the while weather or world weariness batters you from the outside.
 
Just a QUICK disclaimer: Spring through the first part of autumn I live an 80/20 Paleo Lifestyle. (For ME that means no dairy, no gluten, no sugar, no legumes and no artificial additives.) This is not a DIET, but a lifestyle.  Although I consider myself a "sturdy girl" and would love to be "waifer theen" (Mea culpa,Monty Python. Gross-out scene ahead.)  living Paleo for me is about how I feel not how I look.  I love fresh fruit and veg and the best of what Olde Towne Butcher has to offer me 3/4 of the year.  But during cold weather, I like simple carbohydrates and lots of them. I only ingest dairy infrequently because ever since I cut back, I stopped getting back to back to back sinus infections.  
 
Now the recipes:  Both recipes can be made ovo-lacto vegetarian and I imagine soy milk can be substituted and the egg and butter in the soup can be omitted.  But I opted not to go either route.  So, SPOILER ALERT! There be dairy ahead.
 

 

Polish Pickle Soup and Caraway Seed Bread

I'll do better with pictures in the future. I'll also wash my stove burner pans.

 

 

Caraway Seed Bread

 

Ingredients:

2 1/2  cups bread flour

1/2 cup wheat flour

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon active, dry yeast

2 tablespoons caraway seeds

1 1/3 cups warm water

vegetable or olive oil

more bread flour for kneading

 

 Directions:

1. Combine the flours, salt, yeast and seeds. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and stir in the warm water until just blended. 
2. Turn out onto counter dusted with bread flour and knead for about five minutes.  Let rest while you lightly oil a bowl large enough to contain the dough once it eventually triples in size and looks like it is going to take over Downington, PA. 
3. Cover and allow to rise for 12 hours. I like to do this overnight so I am asleep for most of the rising cycle. Mainly because you are to leave rising dough to itself to do what it has to do and I can't be trusted not to poke a finger in it.
4. Punch dough down and form it into a ball.
5. Take a clean, cotton tea towel and dust it with flour one) and place the dough ball in the center and fold the sides into the center covering the dough loosely.
6. Leave it alone to rise another hour.
7. Bake in a dutch oven* for 25 minutes at 450 degrees F. Uncover the pot and bake another 5-8 minutes.

* I love cast iron cookware and use it for almost everything.

 

Polish Pickle Soup

 

Ingredients:

6 cups vegetable stock or chicken stock

4 large fresh* dill pickles, (found in or around the refrigerated deli case) shredded

1/2 cup pickle juice from the pickle jar

2 1/2 cups thinly sliced potatoes (use your favorite or whatever you have on hand)

2 tablespoons Wondra flour

1 cup milk

1 large

2 tablespoons softened butter

 

Directions:

1. In a large soup pot with cover, combine stock, pickles, pickle liquid & potatoes.
2. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook covered, over low heat until potatoes start to get soft (about 10 minutes).
3. Combine flour and milk, add to broth, bring to a boil and remove from heat.
4. Combine egg and butter and stir into broth. (This step can be left out. I don't think it makes much of a difference either way.)
5. Return pot to the stove and heat through without boiling.

Season with salt and pepper. (Or not.)

Garnish with sour cream and/or fresh dill. (Or not.)

 

So, that was my first blog.

 I'll work on the formatting and see how it goes.

Happy Sunday!

Brandy