Anger Burger

My parents were hippies, and I don’t think I ate a chicken nugget until I was about 10 years old.  On the other hand, my Aunt Linda was not a hippie and my first introduction to hotdogs was her version, which involved splitting the dog lengthwise, inserting a folded piece of American cheese and a pat of margarine for good measure and then broiling.  So you know, it’s not like I survived on nettle paste and carob chips or anything.

Anyway, chicken nuggets.  Mike the Viking insists on calling these “Chicken Puffs” which has been confusing to me for almost a decade.  He’ll shout “CHICKEN PUFF!” and throw his glögg horn at me, leaving me to scramble into the kitchen wondering, what the fuck is a chicken puff? And then I remember: nuggets.

This is one of the rare instances where white meat works better.  Because the puffs nuggets only cook for about 10 minutes, they remain quite moist, and the flaky quality of white meat better suits the nugget-eating anyway.

I must profess a deep love for the S&B Oriental Curry Powder.   It’s not a flavor you’ll find in any Indian cuisine, and certainly not Thai either.  But when you want a very mild, non-denominational kind of curry flavor, the S&B can’t be beat for price, availability and flavor.  It can be found in almost every grocery store in America, and when mixed into ketchup or lightly sprinkled over fried fish adds just the right about of curry flavor without much heat or, well, personality.  Which is sometimes a very good thing.

In the instance of the chicken nugget, the result is a lovely piquant spiciness, nothing very challenging, and the perfect balance between eating a kid food and taking it too far into the wretched humorlessness of Foodiedom.

Somewhere along the line we started eating them with fresh cilantro in each bite, and there was no looking back.  And then somewhere further along the line, the Viking starting eating his with a creamy dipping sauce I cobbled together, and that was that.

He also likes me to make extra so he can make a hot chicken sandwich the next day, kind of a breaded chicken burger sort of thing that he smashes together between two halves of soft bread along with whatever other unlucky creature he finds in the icebox.  It isn’t crispy the next day (I never never tried it, but I suspect a quick fry in a dry pan might crisp it up) but he doesn’t care.  So I don’t care.

Chicken Puffs Nuggets
you really don’t have to use the curry powder here, but you might find it is more thematically ambiguous than you think it’s going to be – I often eat mine with BBQ sauce and find the flavors don’t clash at all.  however, if you really don’t want to use curry powder, feel free to experiment with other spice mixes, taco seasoning, old bay or any “grilling” blend.  just make sure the spices are finely ground – the grilling blends for example will need to be ground finer in a spice mill or mortar and pestle.  also, don’t fear the mayonnaise – it’s serving its purpose here merely as thick oil.

1 lb chicken tenders cut into bite-size pieces (see note)
1/4 cup good quality mayonnaise
1 – 2 tsp S&B Oriental Curry Powder
hot sauce to taste (I do 2 tsp. of Sriracha aka “Rooster Sauce”)
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp. pepper

2 cups panko bread crumbs
2 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper

fresh cilantro

*Note: chicken in much of America can be bought in a cut called “tenders”, which are actually the tenderloin of the chicken.  They are a single muscle bundle of white meat off the side of the breast and are more tender (imagine!) than the breast meat.  If you can’t find chicken tenderloins, breast meat is just fine.

• Cut chicken into bite-size pieces – tenders can be cut into even thirds, usually.  Don’t forget that meat shrinks as it cooks, so make them a little bigger than you want them to be when eating them.

• In a bowl, mix together the mayo, curry, hot sauce, 1 teaspoon of salt and 1/2 teaspoon of pepper.  Add the raw chicken pieces, stir to coat and place in fridge for at least 30 minutes and as much as an hour.

• Meanwhile, prepare the panko: in a shallow dish such as a pie pan, drizzle the olive oil over the panko.  Sprinkle over 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon of pepper.  With a fork, mix and mash and fluff the panko until the oil is evenly distributed, or until you can no longer see any oily clumps.

• At this point, decide if you want to broil the nuggets (if you have a good broiler, this is the preferred option) or bake them at very high heat (also good).  If you decide to bake them, preheat your oven to 500° and give it time to really get up to heat.  Line a baking sheet with foil.

• When the chicken has finished marinading, press each piece into the panko firmly, turning and pressing each piece several times to ensure that it gets a solid, even coating of panko.  Place each nugget on the baking sheet, allowing just a little room between each piece.  I find I can easily fit a pound of chicken on a single regular baking sheet.

• Whether baking or boiling the nuggets, allow each side to cook for about 5 – 7 minutes, but without walking away from them.  When cooking anything breaded like this, it’s very dangerous to walk away as it can go from cooked to burnt in seconds.  When the tops are golden brown with darker bits starting, turn the pieces over with a pair of tongs, return to the oven and toast the other side to golden brown as well.  However long this takes, the chicken inside will be cooked through.

• Remove from the oven and allow to sit for about 3 minutes before serving.  Eat with pieces of fresh cilantro on the side – eat the stems too!  They have lots of flavor and a pleasant crunch.

The Viking’s Creamy Dipping Sauce
i only make this to serve one, so you know, if you want to make more you’ll have to figure it out for yourself.  that being said, it’s pretty delicious.

1 heaping spoonful of mayonnaise
1 heaping spoonful of low-fat or fat-free yogurt
1 heaping spoonful of Major Grey’s chutney (or any mango chutney)
very finely chopped cilantro (I use this stuff)
1/4 tsp. S&B Oriental Curry Powder
1/4 tsp salt

• Mix together.
• Eat.

Four months ago, I embarked on a piece of folly.   I wanted to try St. Louis style “gooey butter cake” and instead of making the recipe everyone and their hamster claimed was their grandmother’s recipe, I went straight for the updated New York Times version.  The result was one-dimensional, and I was pretty steamed I’d spent the better part of my day making it.  It  then became inedibly stale by the next morning, and I was fit to cut a bitch.

It’s taken me a few months, but I just now worked around to making the trailer park abomination that has captured the heart of St. Louis.  I mean that in the most flattering way, of course.  Anyway, as you see above, it’s a box of yellow cake mix that gets half a cup of melted butter and an egg.  Nothing else!  This makes a thick, cookie-like dough.

The dough becomes the bottom crust, and I worry about it.  Cake mixes already tend to brown too easily, and I’m concerned that it’s going to burn.  Whatever, what have I got to lose?  A box of Betty Crocker cake mix.  I’ll bury it under the tire-fire of heartbreak already in progress.

The top layer of the gooey butter cake is nothing more than a loose cheesecake.  Cream cheese, more egg, a pound of sugar (gurgle) and since I’m me, I added the juice of a lemon.  It’s an attempt to balance the flavors not unlike President Bush’s attempt to help the people of New Orleans after Katrina, but it’s the gesture that counts, right?

It smells like unicorn farts when cooking, make no mistake.  Sugary, milky and downright sparkly.  The resulting product is gorgeous as well, perfectly golden brown and crinkled.   And the taste?  First, a rare trait: it was much better after it came to room temperature for a few hours than it was while still warm.  Significantly so.  Straight from the oven the top layer had an unpleasantly curdy quality – have you ever ruined pastry cream by overheating it before?  It was like that.   But five hours later?

I can’t deny it, it’s abominably tasty.  An atrocious sugar bomb to be sure, offensively sweet and without character, but at the same time… The cake mix does something strange by turning a deep tan shade and tasting like the lovingly toasted sugar of a perfect campfire marshmallow.  The cream cheese topping is transparent in complexity: it’s mostly sweet, a little creamy, and distantly tart.  And together, while fodder for an instantaneous tummyache, is everything you’d love in a treat you’d get at a family reunion potluck.  Mostly embarrassing, but satisfying nevertheless.  I doubt deeply that I’d make this for myself ever again, but would I bring it to a party?  Shit yeah, I would.  And it would get eaten up.

Gooey Butter Cake
if you care to google variations on the recipe, you’ll be rewarded with a multitude of options: pumpkin, chocolate, coffee, coconut, it goes on and on.  i don’t know what else to say about it.  oh!  other than this: if i do make this again i think i could safely cut the powdered sugar in the cream cheese layer down by like 1/3.  because, damn, sister.

1 box yellow cake mix
1/2 cup (1 stick) of melted butter
3 eggs
8oz (1 box) of cream cheese
1 lb (1 box) of powdered sugar
juice of one lemon (optional and recommended)

• Heat oven to 325°.

• In a bowl, mix together the cake mix, butter, and 1 egg until it forms into a smooth dough.  Press the dough evenly into a greased 9×13 pan.

• Using the same bowl, mix together the cream cheese, 2 eggs, powdered sugar and lemon juice.  To facilitate the mixing, you can microwave the cream cheese by itself for about 30 seconds on high power, or until it’s soft but not hot.

• Pour the cream cheese mixture over the top of the cake dough and bake for 40-50 minutes or until the top of the cake is lightly browned and the edges are golden.  Let cool completely before cutting, and allow to sit for several hours for best flavor.

Another non-recipe!  This trend is alarming.  However, I am pleased to recall that omelettes exist.  If you’ve got eggs and cheese, you’re pretty much done and can sit back and relax.  Well, I mean you still have to make dinner, but you get the idea.

This was one of those times where Mike the Viking called me on my bullshit.

Mike: “What’s for dinner?”

me: “Southwest omelettes.”

Mike: “What makes them Southwest?”

me: “…Corn.”

Mike: “Corn?  That’s it?”

me: “Ancho chili powder!  Jesus, I just made it up.  What’s with the third degree?”

I never used to be this woman, but I’ve started to like salsa on my eggs.  Or Sriracha.  Or Tapatío.  Does this commonly happen with age?  That you need your eggs spicy?  Also I disliked omelettes a great deal when I was younger, but mostly because I get bored plowing through a huge pile of plain, overcooked eggs, which many omelettes tend to be.

Oh alright, here’s a recipe.

“Southwest” Omelettes
if you add cumin it’ll taste maybe a little more taco-seasoning-y, which I’m personally not into, but I’m telling you: ancho chili powder. it’s not a hot spice but it tastes like it, if that makes any sense at all.

serves 2.

1 tsp olive oil
1/2 yellow onion, diced small
1/2 red bell pepper, diced small
1/2 cup frozen corn
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp ancho chili powder
6 eggs (3 per person)
2 tbsp milk or water
shredded cheddar cheese
chopped green onion

salsa, sour cream or other condiments to taste

• In a nonstick frying pan, saute the onions over medium heat in the olive oil, stirring frequently, until they are starting to brown on a few sides, about 5 or more minutes.  Add the bell peppers and continue to saute until the peppers begin to brown and the onions are cooking down nicely, about another 5 minutes.  Turn down to medium-low and add the corn, garlic, salt and chili powder.  Saute gently for 2 to 3 minutes, or until the garlic has softened a little.  This is now your filling.  Set it aside in a bowl.

• Wipe the saute pan clean (no need to wash if you can get it reasonably uncrusty with just a paper towel) when it has cooled enough to not totally hurt yourself.  While you are waiting for this, shred your cheese and set it aside.  In two small bowls, break 3 eggs into each along with 1 tablespoon of either milk or water and very gently whisk them with a fork just enough to barely blend them together.  Don’t overbeat them into a homogenous yellow slop, there’s no need.

• Placing the pan back over medium heat, grease the surface with another little dab of olive oil  – I love using one of those refillable misters for this, because you want just enough oil around the edge of the pan to ensure that the cooked egg will be easy to handle, but not so much that it’s greasy.  If you don’t have a refillable mister, some commercial cooking spray like Pam will have to do.  Dump one serving of the eggs into the pan.  Using a spatula, move the eggs around a little at first to try and get as much exposed to the heat as possible, but stop shy of allowing any of the egg to really set and become scrambled.  Smooth the egg slurry out and let it cook for 30 seconds before adding 1/2 of the vegetable filling to one half of the side of the egg.  Top with as much shredded cheese as you’d like – we use about 1/2 cup per person.

• With the spatula, fold the un-fillinged side of the egg over on top of the fillinged side and gently press down to ensure a seal.  Turn the heat down to medium-low and cover with a lid for 2 minutes.  For me this omelette is done, though there’s a danger of encountering some jiggly egg in the middle of the omelette.  I hate overcooked eggs, but I understand that many people cannot abide by the texture of uncooked egg, and if this is you: flip the omelette over to the other side and cook with the lid on for an additional 2 minutes.  You’re in danger of losing melted cheese with this technique, but you can always scrape it out of the pan and onto your plate.

• Serve with salsa, chopped green onion and/or whatever else you want on top.

• Immediately begin second omelette and glare at your partner while they eat their delicious dinner while you insist that they shouldn’t wait for you.

I love making salad dressing, I really do.  Is that the most twee thing I’ve ever said, or what?  Shit, dawg.  Anyway, salad dressing.   I never use recipes, which means that for better or worse, I’ve never made the same dressing twice.  That being said, therein lies the appeal: any acid, any oil, and any billions of additions and most of the time, they are delicious.  I have formed some opinions about it.  I call it:

THE USER’S GUIDE TO SALAD DRESSING

• Salad dressing needs to sit refrigerated for at least a few hours.  The longer it sits, the better it tastes. It may also thicken a little as it sits.

• The ratio for vinaigrette dressing is as follows: something acidic, plus the same amount and slightly more of oil.  That’s it.  Everything else is flavorings.

• A little good quality mustard will thicken, help emulsify and zip up any and every salad dressing without adding a mustardy flavor, unless you want a mustardy flavor, in which case you should add more.  I prefer Gulden’s Spicy Brown above all others, though a Dijon-style is a close second.

• Same for some grated onion, garlic or best of all, shallots.  A little bit adds a deep, savory flavor dimension to even sweet dressings.  A note of caution:  very fresh dressing with grated onion or garlic will have a sharp, raw flavor.  This is good news if you love garlic and/or onions.  If you don’t then plan on letting the dressing sit for a few hours so the acid has a chance to break down the sulfurous chemicals.

• Creamy dressings don’t need to be made with a lot of dairy – if you add two spoonfuls of plain yogurt or mayonnaise to about 1/2 cup of vinaigrette, you may be surprised to find the dressing is plenty creamy.  This is also a good way to change a vinaigrette you’re bored with: a few spoonfuls of yogurt and some fresh herbs, and it’s a different dressing.

• Alternately, dressing made from buttermilk plus a few spoonfuls of yogurt to thicken is one of my favorites; it’s tangy and only¹ some chives and ground pepper away from a much lighter version of ranch dressing.  Which reminds me: if you do purchase storebought creamy dressing and it is too gloopy and thick, add buttermilk.

• Avoid granulated sugar in dressings.  Honey and maple syrup are already liquid, and they add better flavor.

• If you like fruity dressings, use fresh fruit.  Dur.  Soft fruit like raspberries, mangoes and peaches can be mashed into pulp with a fork and added to the dressing.  And they’re pretty.  HOWEVER.  They get less pretty with time, so make only as much as you’re going to eat, and only for the same day.  Alternately, make a basic vinaigrette and about an hour before using, decant a little into a small bowl and add the fruit just to the amount you’re going to eat.

• Any vinaigrette would probably make a killer marinade for roasted or blanched vegetables, fish, chicken or tofu.  Also: pour over warm pasta, refrigerate it for a few hours and WHIZBANG pasta salad.

I actually measured the dressing made here as I went, and it wrote it down.

Sweet Orange Vinaigrette
i intend on eating this over a spinach salad with almonds, strawberries, goat cheese and red onion.

1 medium shallot, grated
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
juice from half a juicy orange (about 1/3 cup) (NOT A NAVEL ORANGE²)
1/8 tsp orange zest
1 tsp good mustard
2 Tbsp maple syrup
1 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil

• In an jar with a tight-fitting lid, mix together everything but the olive oil by shaking the hell out of the jar.  With the lid on.

• Add the olive oil, and repeat the shaking.  Do this with great vigor and rage.

• Taste for seasonings.  Bear in mind that the salt will not have dissolved yet, and has probably drifted back down to the bottom.

Lastly, the restaurant secret to dressing a salad is to toss just the leaves with a small amount of dressing, by hand, just before serving.  Literally start with one big spoonful, toss, taste a leaf, add another spoonful if the dressing is not detectable.  Then plate the salad, top with extra bits, and then and only then can you drizzle with an additional spoonful of dressing.  This ensures each bite is well-balanced.  It’s silly if you’re just serving a big side salad and everyone wants different dressings, but if you’re making a salad-as-a-meal showstopper, then heed my words.  HEED.

¹ Okay, not only chives and pepper. Also salt and some grated shallot. And a little honey. And fresh parsley.
² Navel oranges have a chemical compound in them that once exposed to the outside world, turns very bitter over the next 24 hours. It’s the same chemical that makes the rinds bitter. Use any other kind of orange.

C’mon Donners!  Let’s get this caravan back on the road.  All we gotta do is cross this one pass and then we’ll be home free – I bet they’ll even name it after us!

I saw this recipe a few days back and bookmarked it, even though I’m generally not nuts about pumpkin-flavored stuff.  I’m not a big pumpkin pie fan, for example.  I think it’s alright and all, but there’s almost always something I’d choose over it.  Ironically, my dad’s livelihood is based on people who do love pumpkin.  I’m tempted not to explain further.  Oh alright: he’s a baker, and 99% of his business is pumpkin bread for coffee shops.  Wasn’t it better when you were imagining that he constructed pumpkin cannons for a living?

Anyway, that recipe is a secret my entire family will take to our graves¹, so when I felt the vague urge to try this pumpkin cookie recipe, I realized I should go for it.  Because though my dad’s pumpkin bread recipe makes great cookies (pro tip: most sweet, quick bread recipes actually make lovely cakey little cookies if dolloped onto a cookie sheet and baked for 10 minutes), I can’t share it with you.  Or anyone, really.  So I’d better find an alternative that doesn’t involve my having to kill you.

I was surprised to find what a strange little cookie this otherwise unremarkable recipe produces.  They are ridiculously soft.  Like, even hours later, they ever-so-gently droop when you pick them up by one side.  They’re like the texture of a marshmallow.  I decided to add butterscotch chips for Mike the Viking, who has a fondness for such things, and mini chocolate chips for myself, and I am glad I did.  The chips – both flavors – bring a lot to the party.  They offer a slight variation in texture, which is much welcome when eating something so consistently squishy, and they bring a zing of flavor, even if too sweet, to the mildness that is pumpkin-flavored anything.  I wish I had some of those cinnamon chips they sell at King Arthur Flour.  I bet those would be perfect, too.

So while I still think my dad’s pumpkin bread is the best in the world, these cookies are better cookies, and that’s the truth.  They’d never bake up into bread, it’d stay raw in the center until the crust was burned.  These are just too sticky-gooey. Oh man, if you spread cream cheese between two and ate them as a cookie-sandwich?  Sweet fuckery, now we’re talking.

Soft Pumpkin Cookies
greatly inspired by Honey and Butter
i tweaked the original recipe just a little, upping the salt, swapping the white sugar for brown, and changing the spices, all of which is probably not as important and adding chips of some kind.  i’d think chips of almost any flavor make these 100% better; white chocolate or maybe even crushed toffee bits?  it’s your science kit now.  as an aside, this just may be the easiest cookie i’ve ever made, in that it doesn’t even need a mixer.

1 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla
1 15oz. can pumpkin puree, about 1 1/2 cups
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp allspice
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. ginger
1 tsp salt

1 cup chips, your preference

• Heat oven to 350°.

• In the bowl of a mixer, or in a large bowl and a spoon in your hand, mix the sugar, oil and egg until smooth.  Add the vanilla and pumpkin puree, and vigorously mix until smooth.  Add the remaining ingredients, and mix just until totally incorporated.

• Using a small ice cream scoop or a regular soup spoon, scoop globs of batter onto a cookie sheet, smoothing them into the approximate shape you want the cookies to end up being.  Their shape does not alter significantly as they cook.

• Bake for 12-15 minutes, or until the cookies are tenderly firm in the center when you very gently tap on them.  If you press hard they’ll smush even when they’re cooked through, so just gently tap them like you’re spanking a baby mouse.

• Allow to cool for 5 minutes on the sheet before gently transferring them to a wire rack to cool.  The cookies will get even softer when stored, so don’t stack them if you want them to remain more or less intact.  The outsides of the cookies will get sticky by the next day, but they’ll also be tastier.

¹ Or to the bank — I’m pretty sure he’d sell both the recipe and the bakery for a song, if you offered it to him. A dude can only bake pumpkin bread for so many decades before he loses his mind. OH SHIT TOO LATE.

I liked when the crafty folks started demanding that old lady skills be referred to as The Gentle Arts.  I don’t jive with that whole “preserving the domestic arts” fervor (maybe ladies don’t know how to quilt anymore because they don’t want to), but I like the belief that keeping house is an art form.  It is.  But this isn’t my point.  My point is that my washing machine stopped draining and I ran crying to my landlord because there wasn’t a man in the house¹ and I’m a girl.

My brain’s daily math works like this:  I’m going to be stuck at home all day today.  What takes forever to cook? Answer: carnitas.  Also, a pie, but that’s a given.

I started thinking about making carnitas when Catastrophysicist wrote about it last month (I also made the lemongrass slaw recipe he mentions, and it’s rad, though I made it with Japanese fried chicken), but his recipe is less of a recipe and more of a brainstorm.  After some epic Google-fu, I came to the realization that there are a bazillion recipes, and I was going to have to wing it.

First, I knew I wouldn’t be using any cumin because cumin tastes to me like taco seasoning.  Instead I’d go heavy on my favorite Mexican flavoring agent, ancho chili powder.  Ancho chili powder isn’t terribly hot – no hotter than paprika – but packs a dumptruck of chili flavor in.  It’s mildly roasty, very deep and almost chocolatey.  Actually, ancho is just a dried poblano pepper, which is the pepper often used to make chili rellenos.  Just, you know, to bring you up to speed.  I don’t mean to turn this into Jeopardy or anything.

Anyway, I went as low-tech as possible.  Big cubes of pork, an orange squeezed over and torn up, lots and lots of garlic and onions, bay leaves, and (what ended up being too much) fresh oregano.  I poured a beer over it all (Kirin Ichiban, just because Japan has gotta represent) and shoved in a 300° oven for 3.5 hours.

LOOK AT IT.  Oh man.  Each nugget of pork is so soft that if I stabbed it with a fork it’d just split in two.  And all the stuff in the pan melted into a slurry of flavor.  I pushed the lumps aside and used some of the juice to moisten the shredded pork.

$10 worth of pork butt (heh), enough food for half a dozen people.  Excellent.

We broiled it to get crispy bits, and then of course I promptly forgot to take photos of finished tacos.  HA.  Cuh-lassic.  I made the Viking go back and make himself another taco just so I could take a photograph.

Generally speaking I’m not one of those all-pork-all-the-time nutbags.  I mean, we get it, pork is delicious and horn-rimmed glasses are cute and GET A HAIRCUT YOU FUCKING HIPSTER.  But carnitas?  This should be in your regular rotation.

Also, pie. 1/3 of this went home with the landlord for fixing the washer and I really mangled the shit out of it trying to cut it, so it’s nice to see that it was once an attractive and intact pastry.

Pork Carnitas
by all means if you like cumin, use it.  either way I stress: buy some ancho chili powder.  you’ll end up using it a lot.  also, if you don’t use cumin, you can pass off the carnitas as American pulled pork after it’s cooked by dousing it with your favorite BBQ sauce. i’m aware that the recipe appears to call for a LOT of garlic, but it does not result in an overly garlicky flavor, it all but disappears.

3 – 5 lb. pork Boston butt (heh)
1 large yellow onion, cut into thick slices
10 cloves of garlic, cut into thick slices
1 large orange
4 bay leaves
1 sprig fresh oregano or 1 tsp. dried
1 Tbsp kosher salt
1 tsp. fresh black pepper
2 tsp. ancho chili powder
1 beer, your choice (water if you’re a teetotaler)

• Heat oven to 300°.

• Rinse and pat dry the butt (heh) and then cut into big cubes roughly 1-2 inches by 3-4 inches wide.  Don’t worry about there being big pieces of fat, these will be easy to pick off after the pork is cooked.  Or you can be super authentic and just eat them.  I picked them off.  Thoroughly salt, pepper, oregano (if dry) and ancho powder each piece and then pack them into a 9×13 baking pan.  It’s okay if it’s tight.  Between each piece of pork, smash some slices of onion and garlic.  Cut the orange in half, squeeze the halves over everything, and then tear the orange up into about 8 pieces and tuck those pieces in evenly around the pork.  Tuck the bay and oregano (if fresh) leaves randomly around too.  In summary: put everything in a pan.

• Pour a beer over it until liquid comes about 3/4 up the sides of the pork.  Don’t submerge it.  You probably won’t even need the whole beer, so drink the rest fast before your landlord sees you.

• Bake for 3.5 hours.  Somewhere in there flip the pieces of pork over once or twice.  They’re done when you can easily flake the pork apart with two forks.  Remove from the oven and let cool a little before setting about shredding the pork with your forks, putting the shreds over on a cookie sheet (or straight into a storage container for the fridge, if you’re making this ahead of time), picking fat off as you go.   When it’s all shredded, pour over about 1/2 to 1 cup of the delicious pan juice and toss together.  The pork will soak up all the juice.

• When you’re ready to eat, broil the shit out of the shredded carnitas until it’s dark and crispy on the top, and then immediately consume.

¹ Mike the Viking is back to copywriting in an office.  It’s exactly like Mad Men and we’re exactly like the Drapers.

An alternative title for this post could be:   WRITE NOTES IN YOUR COOKBOOKS, MORON.

In my defense I hadn’t made lavender shortbread in years, and from the actual cookbook the recipe came from in many years longer than that.  I hand-copied out a quadrupled version for commercial production nearly ten years ago, and haven’t looked at the original since.

The book is Susan Herrmann Loomis’ Farmhouse Cookbook, and my copy is so well-used that some pages are permanently stuck together.  I can’t tell you how many recipes in here have become my standards, but I can say that the recipe for ‘Barbara Fischer’s Whoopie Pies’¹ alone makes it a worthwhile purchase.

Anyway, shortbread.  The recipe is ‘Herbfarm Rosemary Shortbread’ and the recipe is very nearly not shortbread at all.  The inclusion of rice flour makes the texture not that familiar sandy, firm bite of a Walker’s Shortbread, but a very fragile, tender and light alternative.  (The color also stays a pallid, Victorian-bosom white.)  And though I’ve made the recipe probably hundreds of times, I still read through the original recipe with fresh eyes.

At the bakery we’d always weighed out the cookies ball by individual ball, smashing them with a mallet (true!) and generous coatings of granulated sugar before they went into the oven.  It was the fastest way to make them.  Now – alone in my house and the master of my own cookies – I wanted fingers of shortbread, but since the dough felt too soft and that struck me as vaguely familiar, I refrigerated the dough and came back to cut it an hour later.

The dough itself is barely sweetened, and the cookies themselves rely on a coating of extra sugar. If you really want a nearly-unsweetened cookie, this part can be skipped.

At this point, I’m not going to lie.  I’m proud of myself.  These are fine cookies, and there was a reason Grandma River loved them.

When baking, their perfume is pure sex.  The fatty odor of the butter is tempered by the peculiar dusty sweetness of the lavender, producing this big, round globe of scent.  Perfume aficionados talk about “gourmand” perfumes – those with food-like odors.  But there’s no opposite version for cooking, and there should be.  The lavender shortbread is a food odor that ambles slowly from digestible to wearable, until the only explanation is that a gorgeous French woman wearing only a satin chemise has been baking cookies in your house, her arcane perfume mingling with those of the oven.

And then, I checked on them.  And burst out laughing.

I remember why the softness seemed vaguely familiar.  The shortbread are too soft.  I had increased the flour to keep them from pooling and those notes are back in Washington state.  Result: unsightly lavender blobs.

That taste astonishing, anyway.  I just wouldn’t send them to Grandma, were she here.

Lavender Shortbread, Adjusted
as you might imagine from the original title, these shortbread are also good with fresh rosemary – to be totally honest, I have a hard time deciding which of the two herbs i prefer most.    the recipe also suggests mint or thyme, and again – just lovely.  any resinous herb will work.  and do not be tempted to increase the quantity of lavender – lavender flowers can be bitter in concentration.  look for organic lavender or lavender intended for human consumption – don’t just empty out a panty sachet or something.

1 ½ sticks (6oz) of butter, softened, but firmer than room temperature
1/3 cup sugar
1 Tbsp dried lavender
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup rice flour (white or brown)
1/4 tsp. salt
additional sugar for the tops of the cookies

• Cream the butter on medium speed until very pale and smooth.  Add the sugar slowly at low speed, then increase to medium again until very fluffy and light, about 2 or 3 minutes.

• Add the rest of the ingredients and mix on low until just bound together.  It will take a few minutes.  If your kitchen is at all warm, place the dough in the fridge for 10 to 30 minutes before continuing.

• Heat oven to 375°.

• Form the dough into small, thick patties about 1 ½ inches across and ½ inch thick.  Dip the tops into granulated sugar, then place on a cookie sheet with at least 1 inch of room between each cookie (12 to a sheet is good).

• Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges have just begun to turn golden brown.  The rest of the cookie will be almost white.

• The cookies are very fragile, so allow them to cool for a few minutes before transferring to a cooling rack.  As is so often the case, I prefer them either straight from the oven or after they’ve had a chance to sit in an airtight container or plastic bag for 24 hours.

I will be making these again soon, and will share photos of what they are supposed to look like.

¹Which I discovered way before the whoopie pie craze swept the nation, and I say this not with smugness, but with a certain level of resignation — explaining to customers what whoopie pies were was a lesson in smiling even when you’ve heard a joke one thousand million times.  The recipe also calls for not a marshmallow creme center, but a peculiar buttercream made with lemon juice and raw egg whites, the texture of which becomes both fluffy and creamy in a way that to this day boggles my mind.

Happy adoptiversary, Tankerstiltskin.  I know we say this at least once a week, but I’m sorry your last family left you at the kennel like that.  But it was for the best.  You’re our Tank-Tank now.  Our little Punchkin.  Supertanker.  Black Beast of Arrrggghhh.  Lady MacTanksalot.  She-Smaug.  Pukerina.

Speaking of puking, ThinkTank is allergic to almost everything found in commercial and even most alternative dog treats.  No eggs, potatoes or oats, no beef, turkey or salmon.  There are a lot of other things too, but those items in particular are found in almost every single product for sale.  Nearly a year ago I started making her treats, in a recipe I’ve since altered slightly and perfected¹.

Last night I wanted to make her a special treat, something just for her.  I didn’t want to overload her on meat since too much protein seems to make her sick, too (see: Ground Lamb Incident of 2010).  I poked around the kitchen and realized what I could make her.  Buckwheat zucchini pancakes.

Since she can’t have egg I used flax-replacer.  At which point I realized I had just made my dog gluten-free, vegan zucchini pancakes.

Oh my god.  Really?  If I’m not careful my dog is going to move to Portland without me.

Still, they turned out pretty good.  Fresh mint and rosemary from the garden worked amazingly with the zucchini, and even though I greatly dislike the texture of pure buckwheat, the pancakes themselves were soft and fluffy.

She, you see, loved the texture.  Somewhat gummy and chewy.  The Viking was lucky to keep his hand.

My Dog is an Insufferable Hipster
Gluten-Free, Vegan Buckwheat Zucchini Pancakes
like i said, i think that pure buckwheat has an unpleasant texture, both gritty and gummy, and if you made these for humans i’d certainly replace at least 1/2 of the buckwheat with something else.  i’m not sure what since i don’t regularly bake gluten-free, but i imagine there are plenty of suggestions out there on the interwebs.  but rest assured: these taste lovely, and are even better at room temperature.  made very small and topped with a piece of smoked salmon, they’d be a charming party snack.
makes six 3-inch pancakes

1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt (these tasted undersalted to me)
1 Tbsp. ground flax seed mixed with 3 Tbsp. hot water
1/2 cup soy milk
dash of granulated garlic²
1 heaping tsp. finely chopped fresh mint
1/2 tsp. finely chopped fresh rosemary
1/2 packed, heaping cup finely shredded zucchini
1 tsp. olive oil for cooking

• First, prepare the flax egg replacer.  Mix the flax and hot water together in a small bowl and stir for 1 minute to combine.  Set aside.  When you return to it in a few minutes it will be thickened and slimy, like the texture of a beaten egg.

• In a bowl, stir together the buckwheat, baking powder, sugar and salt.  Add the zucchini, herbs, granulated garlic and then the flax slime.  Begin to stir with a spoon, slowly adding the soy milk as you mix.  Set aside while you heat a non-stick skillet or griddle over medium heat.

• Drizzle or spray a very small amount of olive oil into the non-stick pan and begin to dollop on pancake batter.  I used a small ice cream scoop to facilitate both speed and consistency.  The pancakes can be any size, but the smaller they are, the easier they are to handle.  Like a regular pancake, it’s time to flip them when holes form in the surface of the cake that do not disappear after the bubbles pop, about 3 – 4 minutes.  Flip the cake and cook on the other side for about 2 minutes, or until the pancakes feels springy and firm when gently tapped on the middle.

• Set aside to cool on paper towels and cook the next batch, if there is more batter.

¹ I’ll post a re-do of the recipe sometime, but I replaced the cheese with seaweed and bonito (fish) flakes, both items found at the Asian market. They’re highly nutritious and stink like low-goddamn-tide when you’re baking them. She LOVES them.
² There is some argument that any garlic is bad for dogs, but my belief and the general consensus is that dried garlic, in small quantities, is perfectly safe. Raw fresh garlic and onions are not safe.

Can you hear that?  “Flight of the Bumblebee” playing slightly off-key?   Or can only just Mike the Viking and I hear it?

A few weeks ago the Viking lost his job as a destroyer of civilization in a rather spectacularly poopy way.  Did you see that Facebook movie?  It was like that, but minus the billions of dollars.  Basically he worked day and night burninating the countryside for over a year, only to find his employer Nelsoning at him with a pink slip and a contract that cleverly left us with nothing.  I think it may have been the only time that I threw the battle-axe at the servants.

The following whirlwind of life became both actual and metaphorical as new employment was established, as guests from out of the country came and went, as cars died and were towed by good friends with AAA memberships.  Crohn’s flare-ups kindled and then faded, a pound of fat was lost, and then regained.  Raging storms shook Southern California, and Japan bent under the weight of the earth.  Such is the circle of life.  And then the Viking’s Grandma River died.

She’d been sick for quite some time, but expecting someone to die and them actually dying are two different things.  Grandma River was a consummate grandma, both withered and spry, sharp-witted and charmingly obtuse.  Her hair was a thing to behold, the kind of hair grandmothers have in movies: long and snow-white, like a princess fast-forwarded through time by a wretched witch’s curse.  But it was real!  The hair, not the curse.

Awesomely unintentional butter-henge!

Many years ago Mike brought her some of the lavender shortbread we used to bake at my family’s bakery, and she loved them enough that Mike mailed her whole batches more than once.  I wanted to make those shortbread today for her, mostly because her health prohibited her from eating anything like them for well over her last year of life, and if there was any time to eat a cookie in someone’s honor, that time is now.

But I don’t have any dried lavender in the house, so I made lime-coconut sugar cookies instead.  I’m not sure if she’d like them as much as the lavender shortbread, but what can you do.

Skål, Grandma River!

Put the Lime in the Coconut Sugar Cookies
i put a little bit of tangerine zest in this batch, too, because i think that layering citrus always makes for a better flavor.  try it – if you’re making something lemon flavored, add a quarter of the same amount of orange, too.  it makes the star citrus flavor rounder, more complex.  like many cookies, i like these either straight out of the oven, or stored in plastic and left until the next day, when they begin to soften a little.  also, i know i found this recipe on the internet years ago, so if anyone recognizes it please say something so i can give credit.

3 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt (or 1/2 tsp. of regular table salt)
4 oz. (2 sticks) butter, softened
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 tsp. lime zest (about 1 large lime)
1/4 tsp. orange or lemon or even grapefruit zest
1 egg, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3 Tbsp. lime juice (about 2 limes)
1/2 cup toasted fine coconut flakes

• First toast your coconut, either in a clean skillet over medium-low heat, stirring continuously, or in a glass bowl or pie plate, microwaving for 20 second bursts about 5 or 6 or 7 times, stirring between each.

• Heat oven to 350°.

• In the bowl of a stand mixer, hand-whisk together the citrus zest and the sugar until the citrus is well-incorporated.  Add the butter and cream at medium speed with the paddle attachment for about 3 to 5 minutes, or until pale and fluffy.

• Add the egg, vanilla and lime juice, and beat again at medium until creamy again.  The mixture will appear to curdle but come more or less back together after a minute or two.  If it still looks a smidge curdled, that’s okay.

• Add the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and toasted coconut.  Mix just until combined.  Let the cookie dough rest on the counter for 10 minutes before scooping.  If your kitchen is very warm (75° or higher), let the dough rest in the fridge for those 10 minutes.

• Scoop into balls (I use a 1 1/2 Tbsp. cookie scoop) and place 12 per sheet.  Bake for 12-13 minutes, or until the edges of the cookies have just begun to turn golden brown.   If you want them crunchy, let them cook 2-3 minutes longer, or until visibly golden brown across the surface.   Move to a cooling rack and eat some while still screaming hot so that you burn yourself.

Mike the Viking has embraced American culture with a mixture of disdain and obsession, with the obsession part reserved for anything peanut butter & jelly flavored.  Well, that and destroying my virtue, but it’s not as though that’s a tall hill to climb or anything

Long long ago at my family’s bakery we made a sort of hoity-toity poptart we called a Babetart (they were actually called Bab-tarts since the bakery was called Babette’s but everyone misread it as Babetart, so it stuck) and they were a pain in the fucking ass to make.  They weren’t made individually, but as a large sheet.  We’d carefully form one layer of a very buttery, tender shortcrust, parbake it a smidge, then smear on raspberry jam and top it with another sheet of shortcrust, this one pre-formed and frozen so it could be dropped, whole, onto the warm bottom, and then the whole thing shoved back into the oven.  Later, cutting them and removing them from the pan was like a daily round of Operation where screwing up meant wasting money.  They were fragile as hell and totally delicious, and quickly became the bane of everyone working.  No one wanted to make them, but customers wanted hundreds of them.

Ever wondered what a puck of frozen peanut butter looked like?

And Mike innocently asks, can you make those but with peanut butter crust instead?  And of course my first answer is no.  IMPOSSIBLE.  We never speak of it again.  But he’s been really busting his hump burning villages and ruining farmland, so I got a bug up my rear to make him the damn PB&J tarts.

First, I knew I wasn’t going to make them like the Babetarts.  I’d make a proper poptart shape.  Second, I don’t know.  I just started making crust.  All I knew was that there was some way to do a peanut butter cookie and pie crust mashup, so I went at it.  First, the butter I normally use in my pie crust was replaced with peanut butter.  I’ve been freezing it for reasons that aren’t actually well-founded at all, and I don’t think it really needs to be done.  In fact, the recipe doesn’t reflect this step, because I think it’s probably pointless.  Add powdered sugar for smoothness, some egg and whole wheat for toughness… and what do we get?  Something pretty good, I think.  A tough dough that is pretty easy to work with, but results in a sandy, tender bite when cooked.  Not too sweet so the jam can do it’s own thing.

But the trick is to get perfect rectangles of dough with no waste.  Let’s walk down this tedious path together, shall we?  I’ve done this a bazillion times to make the Babetarts and am currently the world’s leading authority on this technique.  First, roll half of the dough roughly out to bigger than 9×13 between two layers of plastic wrap.  You must use plastic wrap.  You’ll see why later.  My plastic wrap isn’t wide enough, so I use two sheets to make one large sheet on each side.

Starting with the top edge, peel back the plastic to expose some of the dough.  Because of how oily the peanut butter is, the dough releases easily from the plastic.

By grasping the bottom sheet of plastic and firmly folding the dough over onto itself, you can get a very even, straight line like this:

You can use a ruler to assist your straight edge at this point.  I don’t because I’ve truly done this hundreds of times, but it is important to get it more or less straight.  Meaning don’t go all nutbag getting it perfect, but spend maybe 10 seconds getting it as straight as you can before moving on.  And when you do move on, switch to a different side and do the same thing again, taking care to make sure these two edges are at as close to a right angle as you can get them.  Here’s where having the 9×13 pan comes in handy, you can basically set the pan on top of the dough and lightly trace around it with the blunt edge of a butter knife to get a perfect rectangle.  I know it’s hard to see in my photo and I’m sorry.

When you’ve done all four sides, remove the top sheet entirely and carefully and tightly wrap the entire rectangle up, one side at a time, like so:

Because what we’re gonna to is roll this plastic and make all the edges we folded over mush back into the dough, and even everything out.  And because we were careful about how we did the plastic, the perfect 9×13 rectangle we made will stay intact while we gently roll:

See?  When unwrapped it’s as good as you’re gonna get, with zero dough scraps:

Cut the sheet into 8 rectangles by cutting one long slice longways down the middle, and then the other way in half and then each half in half again.  Place all 8 on a cookie sheet, then put the sheet in the fridge to hold while you repeat the entire process again with the other half of the dough.

Construction of the Miketart should be performed entirely on the sheet you’ll be baking them on, because moving these would be a total goddamn nightmare.  Each bottom gets an eggwash around the edges, a big glop of thickened jam (see recipe) and a top rectangle of dough.

They bake until just cooked and barely starting to color around the edges, just how the Viking likes them.

Some slightly overfilled ones will crack a little on the surface, but that’s okay.  These are homemade poptarts.

I’m not going to lie to you, these are  tedious.  There are a lot of steps.  But the dough is fairly easy to work with and the result is pretty impressive, but it’s not like you’re making these to use as actual breakfast items in the morning.  Or hell, maybe you are.  In which case, uh, you do know they make hippy poptarts with all-natural ingredients now, right?

Miketarts
i use unadulterated peanut butter, meaning that the label ingredients read: “peanuts, salt.”  if you use something like Jif or Skippy, I’m not sure how the dough will work.  probably the same, but i just don’t know.  if you plan on toasting them to reheat later, please use a toaster oven and not a regular toaster – they may asplode.  any jam flavor works for the fillings, mike happens to prefer raspberry, but i think that grape makes for a more authentic-tasting PB&J experience.  the poptart is in your court.

dough:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat
1/2 cup vegetable shortening
1/2 cup smooth peanut butter
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 tsp salt
1 egg
3 Tbsp vodka, icy cold if possible

for the jam filling:
8 oz (about 2/3  heaping cup) jam, any flavor
1 Tbsp + 1 tsp cornstarch
1 Tbsp lemon juice

spare egg for eggwash

• Make the jam filling first.  In a small saucepan, mix together the cornstarch and lemon juice until smooth and lump-free.  Add the jam and stir to incorporate.  Put pan over medium heat to bring to a bubble, and then lower to medium-low for 2 minutes to thicken and cook the cornstarch.  Do not walk away while it is cooking, and stir continuously.  When thickened and no longer faintly milky in tone from the cornstarch, decant into a shallow bowl and let cool on the counter for about at least an hour while you make the dough.

• To make the dough, use a food processor or stand mixer.  I prefer food processor.  Put in the flours, powdered sugar and salt and pulse to blend.  Add the shortening and peanut butter, and pulse about 4 or five times to blend.  Add the egg and vodka and pulse to blend, this time allowing the dough to form into a ball.  Don’t worry about overworking it, for once we’re making something that benefits from the sturdiness of overworking.  Remove the dough from the fo-pro and separate into two equal balls.  Flatten each in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

• When the 30 minutes are up, roll the dough out.  Roll one ball into a perfect 9×13 rectangle (see tutorial above for guidance) and cut into 8 equal (4.5″x3.25″) rectangles.  Carefully remove these rectangles (I actually gently flip the bottom sheet of plastic over onto my other hand to remove each square) and place them on a baking sheet.  Put the baking sheet into the fridge while you roll out and cut the other half of the dough.  To this second sheet of rectangles, poke holes in each with the tip of a pointy chopstick.

• Heat the oven to 350.

• In a small bowl, beat the egg with a fork until smooth and have it and a pastry brush handy.

• To assemble, brush the entire bottom sheet of each tart with eggwash and then drop a heaping spoonful of jam onto the dough.  Spread it out as best you can (it will be very thick) leaving at LEAST 1/2 inch of room around the edge.  Take a top rectangle of dough from the second batch and gently place it over the top.   Do not press on the center of the tart or you’ll push the jam closer to the edges.  Just press the edges together firmly, first with your fingers and then using the tines of a fork to seal.  Do this with each tart.

• Brush the tops of the tarts with eggwash for a shiny finish, but don’t if you want a dull one.  I like to sugar the edges of the tarts by sprinkling granulated sugar on them after the eggwash, since the dough itself is not very sweet.

• Bake for about 20 minutes, or until the tart is barely golden around the edges.

• Remove from the oven, let the tarts cool on the pan for 5 minutes and then remove to a wire rack to cool.