he came from the glorious kingdom

boom

the yachtsman was *mortified*

whoopie!

It was a banner weekend, my friends, complete with swimming, sailing, and reading for hours in a porch swing. Dark & Stormies were consumed. Chester learned to swim (I catch myself saying that we taught Chester to swim, as if we had anything more to do with it than throwing the ball into the lake). Did I mention there were homemade whoopie pies? Happy Fourth of July to me.


I had even less to do with the making of those whoopie pies [thanks, T&I] than I did with teaching that puppy to swim, but I did find out where the recipe came from. Happy Fourth of July to you.

be mine

Valentine's Day is overrated, a setup, one of those Hallmark holidays that just should not be celebrated.

And yet flowers are nice. A card, at least. Fancy chocolates. Did I ever tell you about the year the yachtsman gave me a key chain and some trucker speed from the CVS across the street from his job? But let's not dwell on the past. Let's dwell on chocolate cake.


The man made me a chocolate cake for Valentine's Day. A fancy Cook's Illustrated cake with magically fluffy frosting.


Happy Valentine's Day to me.

holiday dessert wishlist item #6: forgotten cookies

Every year on my birthday growing up, my mother would tell me the story of the day I was born. The tale has dramatic elements—a blizzard, a drunk hitchhiker, a plane that couldn't land in the snow—but my favorite parts are the little details. For example, I loved hearing about Spite and Malice, the card game my teenage aunties played with my mother while she labored, and the two batches of meringues my grandfather, Pop, made to bring to the hospital—one tinted pink, in case in I was a girl, the other blue if I was a boy.


Meringues were one of my favorite cookies growing up, perhaps because of their role in my own genesis tale, but I also loved their crisp shell and chewy interior, the fact that they could be colored to suit the occasion, and the way they baked overnight in an oven that wasn't on, the magic of which tempered my impatience to eat them. But I hadn't eaten a meringue for years until I went to my Tonto's last month for dinner (Tonto is one of the teenage aunties from my birthday story; not the one who sat in the back of the squad car with the drunk hitchhiker—that's Julie). For dessert Tonto served a plate of holiday treats, and among the homemade caramels and Advent Wreath Fudge (another family-tradition dessert) were pretty little meringues. Inspired, I decided to attempt for the first time to make meringues of my own.


Tonto no longer uses Pop's recipe, but because I'm a traditionalist (and in some ways, I think, my grandfather's granddaughter), I tried the version he made on the day I was born, the same ones I ate growing up. They were incredibly easy and as delicious as I remembered, though not as perfectly formed as the ones my mom and aunties used to make. But I'm planning on honing my meringue-making skills this winter (yellow ones when I can't stand the low, gray sky anymore; a batch for the yachtsman, who was out of town the first time I made them and whose favorite color is blue; green when I need a reminder that spring will eventually arrive, etc.) and eventually hope to recreate the shiny little kiss of a cookie I remember.



Pop's Forgotten Cookies

2 egg whites
½ cup sugar [These were pretty sweet; I think you could use a scant half cup and still have a delicious meringue.]
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup chocolate chips [I love chocolate chips, but I think you could go easy here, too, three-quarters of a cup instead of a whole one.]
food coloring (optional)
mint extract (optional)

Heat oven to 400˚F. Beat egg whites until stiff, then gradually add sugar and vanilla. Fold in chocolate chips. Spoon by teaspoons onto ungreased cookie sheet. Place cookie sheet in oven. Turn off oven. Leave in overnight, or for at least eight hours.

You can use food coloring to change the color of the meringues. You can also substitute the vanilla for mint. [A word of warning: I made two batches, one with vanilla and one with fancy peppermint oil I bought at the fancy natural foods co-op. The minty ones were completely flat (but still good), and later I found out this was because of the peppermint oil, so if you make a mint version, use the crappy mint extract you can buy at the crappy chain grocery store.]

holiday dessert wishlist item #5: satsuma mandarins 4-eva

Did you think the holidays were over, darlings? Well they may be for you, but I won't be dragging myself over the holiday-season finish line until this weekend. So I thought I'd tell you about the little fruit that has kept me company over the past several weeks. No, I'm not talking about the yachstman; the little fruit I'm referring to is called a satsuma mandarin.


I should begin by noting that, as a rule, fruit does not qualify as dessert unless it has been doctored, for example baked in a buckle, muddled with sugar and served between the halves of warm shortcake, or topped with honey-sweetened Greek yogurt. But these little shizzles are special, and over the past month or so I've eaten them for breakfast, brunch, elevenses, lunch, post-nap snack, tea, supper, dinner, dessert, and midnight snack, among the other meals I consume daily.

I had my first satsuma mandarin a few weeks ago at my Greek stepmother's. I was assigned to peel them for a salad she was making, and for every section that went into the salad, four or five landed in my mouth. On my way home that night I stopped at the market and bought a few. Dozen. I bought a few dozen, OK?

The next time I went to the store I bought a few (dozen) more. Because who knew how long they'd be in season? And I was sure that as soon as word spread about how delicious they are, a Walmart-style stampede into the store would ensue, shoppers crushing each other underfoot to get the last of the satsuma mandarins while I was safe at home, hiding under my bed, eating tiny oranges. (Tiny oranges that taste like candy! And don't have seeds!)


This compulsive purchasing of oranges went on until we left town for the holidays, at which point I packed my hoard into a cooler and took them on a little tour of the Eastern Seaboard. I ate numerous satsuma mandarins on our sixteen-hour drive to North Carolina. Satsuma mandarins were there for me during the Christmas Day ice storm that left us without power or heat or running water. And I ate satsuma mandarins as we fled North Carolina in search of a place with a working toilet, namely the Shus in Maryland.


Satsuma mandarins saved me from scurvy when we arrived in Maryland and, too exhausted/lazy to move from my chair next to the fireplace, I relied for days on yachtsman-prepared meals of pizza, biscuits, and popcorn (the yachtsman didn't actually pop the corn, but he did open the bag). And when we ran out of hot chocolate to mix with the rum on our New Year's Eve boat ride, someone came up with the brilliant idea of soaking sections of fruit in a mug of liquor and eating those (god forbid we just stop drinking; another wizard put a stick of gum in his mouth, took a swig of rum, and called it a mojito, but that's a story for another bl*g post entirely).


I savored the last few of my satsuma mandarins on our drive back to Vermont, peeling back the thin skin and feeding sections to the yachtsman as he steered us through the blizzard that dumped nearly three feet of snow in Burlington. And the next day when we waded through the knee-deep snow to the store for supplies, I was surprised to see...satsuma mandarins. They were a little wizened and on sale, but, shockingly, still available.

Let the hoarding begin again.

i hope your resolutions include posting more comments on this bl*g

Happy New Year, GFDers, and thanks for indulging me for the past nearly nine months.

New Year's Eve cocktail-boat ride on the Sassafras River

I look forward to sharing more recipes for gruel, soundbites from the yachtsman, and photos of my pets in 2010.

Love and nuts,
Your Bl*g Mistress

holiday dessert wishlist item #4: happy happy

Happy birthday, Candy!

It's my Greek stepmother's birthday today. I won't be with her to celebrate—she's in California for the holidays, I'm cold chillin' at the Shus in Maryland—so I'm going to give her a virtual birthday cake (actually, it's a virtual birthday dessert) with the promise of a literal version early in the new year.


Mrs. Snead's Snow Pudding is the lemony, airy confection my Greek stepmother asked for in lieu of cake on her birthdays growing up. I had it for the first time this past spring, and was immediately smitten. It's hard to describe this combination of frothy egg whites and rich custard, and I assumed it would be hard to make, too. But I was able to (literally) whip this up after work one night and bring it to friends' house for dinner; the snow and the pudding chilled while we ate.

I'm including it on my holiday dessert wishlist because it's the perfect dessert not only to celebrate the birth of my Greek stepmother, but also to ring in the new year (both events go well with champagne, too). It's elegant but unusual, festive, and quite delicious. So if you're looking to celebrate a momentous occasion—say, the beginning of a new decade or the birth of one of your very favorite people—get to your kitchen and start whipping.

Mrs. Snead's Snow Pudding

Ingredients for the snow:
1 (¼-ounce) envelope unflavored gelatin
¼ cup cold water
1 cup boiling water
¾ cup sugar
1 tablespoon grated lemon zest
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
3 large egg whites

Ingredients for the pudding [custard]:
2 cups whole milk
1/3 cup sugar
3 large egg yolks

Making the snow:
1. Stir the gelatin into cold water in a large bowl and let stand 5 minutes. Stir in hot water, sugar, lemon zest, and lemon juice until sugar has dissolved. Set the bowl in an ice bath and stir often until mixture is cold and thickened (consistency will be similar to that of raw egg whites), about 45 minutes.

2. Beat gelatin mixture with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until very frothy, 1 to 2 minutes. In a separate bowl, beat whites until they hold soft peaks.

3. Add the whites to the gelatin mixture and beat at high speed until tripled in volume and very thick, about 5 minutes (longer if using a handheld mixer). Transfer to a large serving bowl and chill until set, about 3 hours.

Making the pudding [custard]:
1. Bring the milk, sugar, and a pinch of salt just to a boil in a small saucepan, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat and let sit for several minutes (you don't want the milk mixture to be so hot it curdles the egg yolks).

2. Put yolks in a small bowl and whisk about ½ cup of the warm milk mixture into the yolks, then whisk this new mixture back into the remaining milk in the saucepan. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until custard coats back of spoon and registers 170°F on an instant-read thermometer.

3. Transfer custard sauce to a bowl and chill, stirring occasionally, until cold, about 2 hours.

Spoon a puddle of the pudding into a glass or bowl, top with snow, and drizzle with more pudding.

the reason for the season

Christmas Eve: My sister-in-law made chocolate cupcakes with peppermint frosting, and my mother-in-law got drunk on fruitcake. I hope your holidays are as full of fun and love and dessert-wishlist fulfillment as ours.

holiday dessert wishlist item #3: the parade of peppermint and chocolate marches on

Did you know I have folders full of pages pulled from Martha Stewart Living, tasteful crafts I will never do and recipes I will never make? Does this confirm your suspicion that I'm a hoarder? Because I think of myself as an archivist. An archivist with a sore, throbbing finger from holding a pen while proofreading: 11 hours today, 9 yesterday, 10.5 on Saturday ... shall I go on? Frankly, I'm not sure I have the strength.


Perhaps one of these Chocolate-Peppermint Cookies, from the December 2008 issue of MS Living, would revive me. Or perhaps not. On the one hand, I don't really like white chocolate; on the other, they're so pretty! And they feature what is apparently one of my very favorite flavor combinations (right up there with chocolate and peanut butter, two great tastes that taste great together).

But this is a dessert wishlist, so I don't have to be practical (see four-layer collapsing cake, below) or worry that I don't like one of the main ingredients. I'm never going to make these cookies—they look nearly impossible, and I can barely type with this gimpy finger, let alone make cookie dough, roll it out, cut it, bake it, melt the chocolate, dip the cookies in the chocolate, and sprinkle the whole mess with candy bits.

My only hope is that they will appear on my countertop like Jesus was born to Mary in the manger, a sort of virgin baking event wherein I sit chastely in my kitchen doing nothing but end up with a plate of cookies. A real Christmas miracle.

holiday dessert wishlist item #2: my little cupcakes

Not only do I want one of these chocolate peppermint cupcakes under the tree on Christmas morning, my New Year's resolution is for My Little Cupcake to open a cupcake shop in 2010, preferably in downtown Burlington. Because a Couch Jedi cannot live by gruel alone, and I'm not sure I can make it through this bitter winter without a regular (possibly daily) dose of my favorite tiny dessert.

A lemon raspberry cupcake from summertime, when the livin' was easy.

holiday dessert wishlist item #1: cakes that have appeared on the cover of the december issue of bon appétit

Like most agnostic half-Jews, the yachtsman loves Christmas. Like most recovering Catholics whose parents are divorced, I don't. But being married to a man who takes such great pleasure out of listening to Handel's Messiah and shopping for his nieces and opening presents on Christmas morning (and one year getting a little drunk on Christmas Eve, putting a Band-Aid on his face, and insisting that I call him Nelly) has brought me around from relying on Valium to make it through the day to almost sort of liking it. And it certainly doesn't hurt that that husband of mine can bake.

So weeks ago I told the yachtsman that I'm pretty sure all Jesus wants for His birthday is this cake:

Doesn't this look amazing? It's called professional photography; please don't grow accustomed to it.

That beauty is the Peppermint Meringue Cake With Chocolate Buttercream that was pictured on the cover of December's Bon Appétit. Sadly, however, it's not getting very good reviews on epicurious.com, which will never do. The cake is for the Lord, for God's sake, and He deserves a dessert that received more than a three-fork rating.

Now I'm hoping to convince the yachtsman to once again attempt this glorious cathedral of chocolate, the Devil's Food Cake With Peppermint Frosting that was on the cover of last year's December issue of Bon Appétit.

Also taken by someone who knows what they're doing and owns a real camera.

The yachtsman tried to make this cake for Thanksgiving in 2008, only to have it collapse under its own weight (something I may be doing soon, as well). We ate it anyway, of course, and it was delicious: Chocolatey and minty with marshmallowy icing and what was essentially whipped cream between the layers. Perfect for the Lord Jesus Christ Our Savior who art in heaven, hallowed be His name, right? And because the only Jesus I would ever believe in is kind and forgiving and loves and accepts all of his children no matter what (this is sadly not the same Jesus I was introduced to at the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception), He would not care at all if His cake collapsed or that it was made by an agnostic half-Jew. He would not even care if I ate most of it, because as it says in the bible, It is better to giveth than to receiveth, to which I say, Thank you, Jesus.

'tis the season, bitches!

Are you all infected with the holiday spirit, or is that a head cold? Oh, you poor things.

I'm off to a slow start this week, my little Christmas elves, my sparkling Hanukkah faeries, my prancing Kwanzaa unicorns. It was a busy weekend here at GFD headquarters—I didn't even have time to weave my puppy a sweater made of tinsel and bring him to the mall to have his photo taken with Santa, let alone shop for, cook, photograph, and write about food. (No, I just ate food, and plenty of it.)

But I have great plans for this week. I hope to post my holiday dessert wish list, and because this bl*g is called Gruel for Dinner, I will also tell you about a little kale dish I've been loving. Until then, gesundheit!

gruel in the adirondacks

The yachtsman and I are off for what I would like to call a much-deserved long weekend, but I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this mini-vacation. I don't know how much I'll be posting there, but I did just barely find out we're supposed to cook dinner for 11 people tomorrow night, so there will most likely be photos of that catastrophe event. I'm thinking of serving a nice cut of Spam with a side of Funyuns. If people complain about the food, I'll try to distract them with the view.

i have a personal shopper, now i need a personal chef

For the rest of you it may have been Memorial Day, but in my world it was bring-your-prepared-food-dinner-to-work day; please meet my mediocre burrito, supplemented by fresh avocado.


But I did come home tonight to a farmers-market bounty -- microbasil, radishes, a multitude of beautiful greens, rapini, basil plants -- courtesy of my stepmom, who shopped for me on Saturday while we were out of town. So tomorrow will be make-yourself-something-delicious-for-lunch-at-home day, which presents its own set of problems, namely the part where I actually have to make something for lunch.