Local Woman Marries Cookie. Film at 11

Yesterday was just one of those days. You know the kind: Things are going swimmingly for a while until one thing goes wrong, then another, and another until suddenly you're breaking out into a cold sweat with a tension headache coming on and that stupid dog next door just WON'T STOP BARKING.

You know, one of those days. 

So I took a much-needed breather and made Dorie Greenspan's World Peace cookies for the first time. Baking relaxes me. I like being able to follow step by step instructions that guarantee results. I've been burned by a few bad recipes in my day (I'm looking at you, Pinterest) but Food52 never disappoints and Dorie Greenspan is a baking legend. So naturally, I expected a lot from these cookies. I didn't expect to fall madly in love with them but, well, you can't predict these things. You bake a cookie, you're overcome by its deliciousness, and then all of a sudden its "What should we name our kids?" and "Would you ever consider converting?" 

The name comes from the idea that world peace would be possible if everybody ate one (or six) a day. I'm not sure these cookies will prevent a nuclear holocaust, but they definitely improved my mood. Even better, double the recipe and keep a few logs in the freezer. World peace may not be within reach, but the antidote to the day from hell sure is. 

Caraway Seed Cake From Jane Eyre

Poor Jane Eyre. Girl can’t get a break. First, her parents die of typhus. Then, her beloved uncle and guardian Mr. Reed dies, leaving her in the care of an aunt who despises her and encourages Jane’s abuse at the hands of her cousins. After a particularly distressing conflict with her cousin John, she is sent away to the Lowood School for girls, where she finds a new abuser in Mr. Brocklehurst, the school’s headmaster. Eventually, Jane befriends a fellow student, Helen Burns, and finds a supporter in her teacher, Miss Temple. 

In one of the first bright spots in the novel Miss Temple invites Helen and Jane for tea, and shows the young girls true kindness: 

“[...] she got up, unlocked a drawer, and taking from it a parcel wrapped in paper, disclosed presently to our eyes a good-sized seed-cake.

‘I meant to give each of you some of this to take with you,’ said she: ‘but as there is so little toast, you must have it now,’ and she proceeded to cut slices with a generous hand.

We feasted that evening as on nectar and ambrosia; and not the least delight of the entertainment was the smile of gratification with which our hostess regarded us, as we satisfied our famished appetites on the delicate fare she liberally supplied.”

I mean, at this point, this was probably the best afternoon of Jane’s life. Of course, (SPOILER ALERT) then Helen goes on to die of consumption in her arms. 

Seed cakes were quite popular in Britain well into the 19^th century and were usually flavored with caraway seeds—hence the name. You may know caraway seeds from their role in rye bread, but they actually work nicely in sweet breads too. According to Andrea Broomfield in her book Food and Cooking In Victorian England: A History, seed cakes originated in East Anglia in the 16^th Century where they were traditionally served during the harvest time. Caraway seeds were also thought to aid in digestion, so this cake was served after large meals. It became most popular during the Victorian age and was frequently served with tea. It was usually flavored with some kind of spirit, such as Madeira wine or brandy, was nicknamed a “keeping cake” because it didn’t spoil easily. 

I couldn’t find a recipe from the 1840s, so one from the infamous Mrs. Beeton will have to do. She was kind of like the Martha Stewart of her day. She came up with such revolutionary ideas as listing ingredients at the beginning of the recipe and telling readers how long they should cook something for:

A Very Good Seed-Cake: 1861 From Mrs. Beeton’s ‘Household Management’

 INGREDIENTS – 1 lb. of butter, 6 eggs, 3/4 lb. of sifted sugar, pounded mace and grated nutmeg to taste, 1 lb. of flour, 3/4 oz. of caraway seeds, 1 wineglassful of brandy.

Mode.—Beat the butter to a cream; dredge in the flour; add the sugar, mace, nutmeg, and caraway seeds, and mix these ingredients well together. Whisk the eggs, stir to them the brandy, and beat the cake again for 10 minutes. Put it into a tin lined with buttered paper, and bake it from 1–1/2 to 2 hours. This cake would be equally nice made with currants, and omitting the caraway seeds.

Time.—1–1/2 to 2 hours.

I decided to find a recipe that didn't include 6 eggs because I like my cholesterol level. This one from GoodToKnow.co.uk seemed like a great balance between classic ingredients and modern methods:

Caraway Seed Loaf Cake

Recipe

• 175g (6oz) butter, softened
• 175g (6oz) caster sugar
• 3 medium eggs
• 250g (8oz) self-raising flour
• 38g jar caraway seeds
• 2tbsp milk
• 1kg (2lb) loaf tin, buttered and lined with a strip of baking parchment

 Method

1. Tip all the ingredients into a bowl and beat until smooth. Spoon mixture into the loaf tin and level the surface.
2. Bake the cake in the centre of the oven 160°C (320°F, gas mark 3) for 45 mins-1 hr, or until the cake feels just firm to the touch in the centre, and a skewer comes out clean when inserted into cake.
3. Remove the cake from the oven and leave to cool in the tin for 10-15 mins.
4. Transfer it to a wire rack to cool completely.

The amount of eggs gives this cake a rather spongey texture, much different from the sweetbreads I'm used to, but it all works to create a nice, fluffy cake . However, I can see why wine or brandy was used to help preserve this cake because it seems to get a bit mushy from all the butter after a few days.

Now invite this guy over to tea and you'll be all set:

Literary Eats: Treacle Tarts from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carroll was the pen name of Oxford don and mathematician Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. Though Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland wasn’t his first published work, it was by far his most popular. Children and adults alike were enchanted by Wonderland’s fanciful imagery, anthropomorphic animal characters, and nonsensical language. Though Dodgson’s literary legacy has been marred by debate concerning the true nature of his relationship with Alice Liddell, the youngest daughter of Henry Liddell, dean of Oxford’s Christchurch College, his work is arguably even more popular today thanks to the 1951 Disney cartoon and Tim Burton’s 2010 pseudo-gothic movie Alice in Wonderland. Aside from the arresting visuals provided in both the book and its many film versions, some of the most famous scenes are built around some very British traditions: The infamous Mad Hatter’s tea party, the depiction of the royal court, and a game of croquet. A number of traditional British foods are mentioned as well, but there is one that causes an uproar:

The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them--all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them--`I wish they'd get the trial done,' she thought, `and hand round the refreshments!' But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to pass away the time.

Later on the Duchess’ cook (and pepper aficionado) is being questioned about the tarts:

Alice guessed who it was, even before she got into the court, by the way the people near the door began sneezing all at once.

'Give your evidence,' said the King.

'Shan't,' said the cook.

The King looked anxiously at the White Rabbit, who said in a low voice, 'Your Majesty must cross-examine this witness.'

'Well, if I must, I must,' the King said, with a melancholy air, and, after folding his arms and frowning at the cook till his eyes were nearly out of sight, he said in a deep voice, 'What are tarts made of?'

'Pepper, mostly,' said the cook.

'Treacle,' said a sleepy voice behind her.

'Collar that Dormouse,' the Queen shrieked out. Behead that Dormouse! Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!'

Treacle tart has long held a place in British literature and is even mentioned as Harry Potter's favorite dessert. It would seem that nothing could be more aptly named than the syrupy sweet treacle tart. It turns out that anything from pancake syrup to dark molasses are, in fact, referred to as treacle in the UK, but traditionally golden syrup is used for the tart. I turned to 19th century housekeeping Goddess Mrs. Beeton for a classic recipe:

Treacle Tart

Ingredients:

450g golden syrup

4 oz soft white crumbs

1 tsp lemon juice

8 oz plain flour

1/2 tsp salt

4 oz unsalted butter 

flour for rolling out


Directions:

1) Set the oven at 400ºF

2) To make the pastry, sift the flour and salt into a bowl, then rub in the butter until the mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add enough cold water to make a stiff dough. Press the dough together with your fingertips.

3) Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface and use just over three-quarters of it to line a 20 cm / 8 inch pie plate. Poke with a fork several times over.

4) Melt the syrup in a saucepan. Stir in the breadcrumbs and lemon juice, and then pour the mixture into the prepared pastry. Bake for 30 minutes.

I can see why this would be a popular British dessert--it is ridiculously SWEET, and if there was one take away from my time spent in London, it was that the Brits love their sweets. When my mom came to visit me, she commented that this was why their teeth were so bad.

I served this with some vanilla ice cream, which is obviously historically inaccurate, but I needed something to balance out the sweetness. There are a lot of modern takes on this recipe that include cream, which probably make it more palatable to today's taste buds. I will say though, that this all butter crust is delicious. Some things just stand the test of time.

Ringing In The New Year

After last week's explosion of cute embodied by my two younger cousins, I'm sorry to say that 2013 has, for lack of a better word, sucked so far. (You know things are bad when you start identifying with Peter Finch in Network.) Luckily, there is hope on the horizon in the form of a 7 day Western Caribbean cruise to be taken by myself and James. Of course, one of the stressors involved said cruise when I realized that an oversight on my part meant that we needed to book different departing flights to the tune of $600. But one of the great things about dating the Nicest Guy Ever is that when I make stupid mistakes he's more worried about me and my reaction than any fall out I may have caused. 

                        Me, James, and his creepy facial hair shortly before 12

I am happy to report, however, that 2012 ended deliciously. And really, isn't that what truly matters? My friends and I have something of an annual tradition where we rent a hotel room in downtown Hartford, dress up, and go out. In previous years we've made crackbabies and bean dip during the pre-outing festivities, but this year I "kicked it up a notch", as some TV chef used to say. Since I didn't get to do any holiday baking I made up for it (and how) with a little dessert called Slutty brownies, which involves a layer of chocolate chip cookie dough, a layer of oreos, and a layer of brownie baked together in a pan. 

                                           Action shot!

Now, I did not invent Slutty brownies and thus, have no attachment to the name. I'm not really sure why they are called Slutty brownies and given the longstanding social and political implications of the term slut, I'd much prefer Promiscuous brownies or Sexually Liberated brownies.  I myself referred to them as Turducken brownies when in conversation with my parents, which may have ultimately been even more confusing if less vulgar. In any case, they are called Slutty brownies and they were invented by my new hero, The Londoner. 

                                                     playing coy

In her version, you use premixed cookie dough but for mine I used my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe and my God it was worth the extra effort. I added about a tablespoon extra butter (using my trusty Kerrygold Unsalted) and about 2 tablespoons water. This batter is particularly dry so for other recipes, you may just need one. Either way, all you want to do is add more moisture since the dough will be baking for longer than the recipe calls for. Then came the oreo layer. 

James picked up the cookies for me while I started the dough and since he is generally less health conscious than me I was secretly hoping he would come back with a bag of Double Stuff. But he completely surprised me when he gave me a bag of Reduced Fat oreos. At first I was all like "Are you f**king serious? You talk about eating hotdogs and pizza every day and this is when you decide to get healthy?" But honestly, it was a good decision. You can't tell the difference and these brownies are so rich that you'll be thankful for that 30% reduction in fat. 

                                 It really is a thing of terrible beauty

As for the brownie layer, I used Ghiradelli's dark chocolate brownie mix because they make awesome brownies and making the cookie dough from scratch was, quite frankly, enough for one dessert. I had a hotel party to get to! After assembling the layers in a paper lined 9 x 9 pan bake at 350 for 30 minutes and you're done. Your mouth is ready to get dirty, verrrry dirty.

An Afternoon at The Hartford Baking Company

This month I'm participating in NaNoWriMo, National Novel-Writing Month, where participants attempt to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. It is my first time doing this and am happy to say that I am currently on track at approximately 21,000 words--though I'm expecting to fall behind by the end of the week. As such, I have been neglecting the blog. Between teaching, tutoring, and writing a "novel" I haven't had much time or energy to post. My students are busy working on their research papers, which is always a stressful time for them (and me). 

Lately, I've taken to reviewing drafts and grading revisions at cafes in the area that provide a nice atmosphere, good eats, and don't mind an adjunct settling in to grade forty papers. I used to never understand how people would get work done in cafes, but there is something about grading that makes it the perfect activity to do in public. Plus, it makes me feel like I'm still living in a city. I know that probably sounds stupid and nonsensical, but so much of living in the 'burbs is done in private. It's kind of nice to do something as solitary as grading in the presence of others.

Last week I paid a visit to The Hartford Baking Co. while I tackled some drafts.The outside is nothing to write home about--it's located in a strip mall. But don't let the lackluster exterior deter you. Inside it's bright and cheery with a kind of industrial/minimalist decor and an open kitchen. More importantly, this place is serious about their coffee and baked goods.

Let me just say something: This is the best scone I have ever had. Ever.  Granted, I've never met a scone I didn't like, but this one surpasses all others in terms of flavor and texture. So flaky, so buttery, so orange-cranberry-ery! Buy two. One for now, and another for later. You'll thank me for this tip.

Next time: Christmas everything!


 

French Yogurt Cake

I know what you're thinking: "Yogurt? Cake? That's gross! I'm not clicking on that link!" But hear me out! I feel like yogurt gets a bad rap in the states and given some of the offerings (I'm looking at you, Dannon) I completely understand. We seem to equate yogurt with 'healthy' food, which we all know = bleh. But, if you've spent any time in Europe or even Whole Foods, you know there's a great big world of yummy yogurt out there! Even still, it can be hard to associate yogurt with anything remotely fun and non-yogurt tasting. 

I myself was guilty of prejudging this recipe when my step grandmother Fran made it during a recent stay at her home. It didn't really help that she then described it as moist, but I wanted to be polite so I tried some. It didn't taste like yogurt at all, just really yummy, moist cake.  She sent me home with the recipe, since I ate the remaining cake, and I finally got around to making it earlier this week. Not only is it delicious, it's also super easy. I've been eating a slice in the morning for breakfast (and maybe another at lunch or dinner) and it goes perfectly with a cup of coffee or tea.

Fran found this recipe in the book Lunch In Paris, which was an adaptation of Clotilde Dusoulier's original recipe--though they both state that this is a very popular cake in France that is usually the first thing children learn to make themselves. This tidbit will also serve to make you feel bad about yourself if you screw it up. Little French children can make this! What the hell is wrong with you? Additionally, Clotilde's has slightly different measurements that I plan on trying out next time I make this cake, which will probably be this weekend since I can't get enough.

I enjoyed the mixture of berries in Fran's cake so much that I stuck with that this time, but this cake is really adaptable to whatever fruit, nuts, or other seasoning you'd like to include. I feel like it would be perfect with some chopped apples, nutmeg, and cinnamon with a little streusel topping.

Gâteau au Yaourt

2 eggs
1 cup whole milk plain unsweetened yogurt (I used 1% here)
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
a good pinch of salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Zest of one lemon
1-2 C mix of frozen raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries

Preheat the oven to 350° F, line the bottom of a round 10-inch cake pan with parchment paper and grease the sides. In a large mixing-bowl, gently combine the yogurt, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and oil. In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the flour mixture into the yogurt mixture, and blend together -- don't overwork the dough. Stir in lemon zest. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan, top with frozen fruit, and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a cake tester comes out clean. Let stand for ten minutes, and transfer onto a rack to cool.

Euro Cuisine 2-Qt. Yog...$50.99 Kohl's

Learning To Love Pears

As I mentioned in my last post, James' parents gave us a bunch of pears from their pear tree. Generally speaking, I am not a big fan of pears. It's a texture thing. An overripe pear is completely disgusting and has no redeeming qualities. It also seems nearly impossible to catch a pear at perfect ripeness, though I'm told they're quite good if you do. Despite these culinary drawbacks, James was insistent that I make pear pie. (Even just typing that out made me gag a little). However, all I could imagine was pear mush encased in a pie crust. After doing some research I came across pear tart tatin, an alternative to the traditional apple tarte tatin. 

I can still remember the first time I had a tarte tatin. My mother and I had gone apple picking and then went back to her friend's house and made this incredible dish. The whole thing just tastes of fall. Ok, now I was on board.

I used this recipe from Williams-Sonoma. It doesn't involve making a thick caramel sauce on the stovetop that more traditional  tarte tatin recipes call for, so the result is more of a syrup, but it's certainly much easier and still tasty.

Pear tart tatin, before the all important flip.

I neglected to place the pears core side up, but besides that minor snafu I'm pleased to report that not only did I eat pear tarte tatin, but I also enjoyed it. The pears didn't get mushy, perhaps due to the carmelization of the sugar and butter, so the natural flavor of pear is on display. I still think apple tarte tatin is the best, but that will have to wait for apple-picking season. Also, I should note that the crust was amaaaaazing. So. Good. 

I guess I'm now obligated to attempt a pear pie...

Preaster Feaster

Preaster, for the uninitiated, is the day before Easter, a term coined by my friend Kimmy. Really, it's just another excuse to get together and put weird spins on holiday traditions. Granted, I'm not Christian, but I can appreciate the Pagan roots of Easter--and anything celebrating the return of Spring is Aces in my book. 

So, I'll be making some Easter/Spring-themed Mini-Cadbury Creme Egg cupcakes and homemade Springtime Oreos using  Flour's recipe. We may have gone a little overboard on the candy but hey,  miniaturized creme egg season only comes once a year.

I'm also hoping to finish my first dress in time. If so, it'll be a Preaster miracle!

Pinterest Finds: Earl Grey Muffins and Strawberry Butter

My college has been on spring break this week, but it's been more of a working holiday for me. Today was the only day I had nothing to do so, of course, I baked something. 

Happy League Of Women Voters Day!

TGIF

Source: stumbleupon.com via Jami Lyn on Pinterest

Pinterest Finds: My New Favorite Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe

Christmas Attack Zone

T-minus two days til Christmas.

Presents: Bought and wrapped. 

Tree: Decorated.

Baking: Almost done. 

Since I'll be spending Christmas Eve and day helping out my aunt and uncle with their kiddies in NYC, James and I are celebrating the holiday on the 26th. We're having some friends over as well, so I've commenced holiday baking ahead of time.

I'd just like to take a moment to extol the virtues of Kerrygold butter. If you're a baker and have never used this stuff, remedy that immediately. The Irish are good at a number of things: whiskey, fiddling, being overly dramatic. I can now add butter to that list.

For my cookie-baking this year I tried out a couple of new recipes I found on Pinterest:

 Peppermint Pinwheels

A word to the wise: the recipe at the link failed to mention that one must chill the dough before rolling it out, hence my oval-shaped cookies (tsk tsk). They still taste good though!

White-Chocolate Cherry Shortbread

As is typical while baking/cooking in my kitchen, I failed to notice beforehand that I needed a pastry cutter so I had to Macguyver it. Not bad. I like that these can also double for Valentine's Day.

Now into the freezer they go until Monday's festivities!

Also on the menu: Red Velvet Cream Cheese cookies (It's a red and white theme this year apparently).

Merry Christmas!

The Christmas Spirit and Chocolate Chess Pie

It's officially December, our tiny tree is up, my Christmas mix is playing, and it's pouring rain out. Way to totally ruin the mood, Mother Nature...

                                                Charlie Brown's got nothing on our tree

I'm still waiting for those darn persimmons to ripen. Based on what I've been reading, the biggest mistake one can make in life is to eat an unripened hachiya persimmon, so I'm trying to be patient and wait just a little bit longer. 

                                                   Hurry up and mottle!

In the meantime, I made this chocolate chess pie via Jennifer Perillo's lovely blog In Jennie's Kitchen. 

I've always been intrigued by the more traditional lemon chess pie, mostly because of the name. A quick internet search suggests that this has nothing to do with the board game, but may have been a shortening of 'chest' pie because it held up so well. Considering that it's mainly sugar, I can see why. The top of the pie forms a sugary crust, while the middle stays nice and gooey, which unfortunately doesn't make for a very photogenic pie:

It's quite easy to put together though and James liked it since it's so darn sweet.

Rookie Mistakes and Persimmon Cake

I don't know what my problem was yesterday. Perhaps it was post-Thanksgiving deluge, but I made a bunch of silly mistakes while trying to make this lovely Fuyu persimmon bundt cake via The Food Librarian.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, I tried my very first persimmon recently. Turns out it was a hachiya persimmon, which is apparently disgusting when eaten unripe. One must wait until they are very soft and the skin starts to pucker to get the best results.

However, fuyus can be eaten while hard like an apple or soft. And, hence the name, are a necessary ingredient in a FUYU persimmon bundt cake. Well, I got my persimmons mixed up when I was at the grocery store on Saturday and purchased some hachiyas. I was literally buttering my bundt pan when I re-read the recipe and realized my error. So, off to the store I went. How can you tell the difference? First, you can read the labels. Second, you can look at the shape:

A hachiya is shaped more like an acorn

...while a fuyu is flatter and resembles an orange tomato.

After I got my persimmons straightened out, I managed to screw up a few more times: my butter wasn't soft enough. Then I added the eggs too soon. (Had to start again). I almost forgot to sift all the dry ingredients together, etc, etc. By the time I was done the kitchen was a total mess and I needed a drink. 

Somehow, despite everything, the cake came out beautifully:

 It makes quite a nice breakfast cake as well. 

Now, as for those hachiyas currently residing on my windowsill, well, I'll just have to wait until they're ripe.

Apple Brownies For James

Usually when James asks me to make him food it's something ridiculous that he just made up, like pizza burgers or hot dog soup. So when he asked me to make him apple brownies, I didn't take him seriously. Turns out it's a real thing. Being the good domestic partner that I am, I made him a batch yesterday.

I used Cortland apples, though any kind you prefer will do. Unless it's red delicious, because those are just gross.

                 

I may have gone a little overboard with the apples  (look at the size of that sack!) Really, three would be plenty.

                                

I substituted half agave nectar, half evaporated cane juice for the sugar and found the batter to be quite gluey. I was a little worried that I had messed up the whole thing...

But they came out beautifully and won't spike our blood sugar levels. Hooray!

Leftovers: Fall Cold Edition

Here's what's been going on during my periods of Nyquil-induced consciousness:

School starts again tomorrow (thank GOD) and then I'm off to NYC on Friday for a weekend of fun with my bbfl Elizabeth and James, who will make his triumphant return to the city that never sleeps. 

I bought and ate my first persimmon this week. They're in season, fyi:

"The French treat the persimmon as a delicacy, eating it a la cuillere, or with a spoon, to scrape up the sensuous nectar. But eating a persimmon takes good timing and an eye for ripeness."~Amanda Hesse The Cook and The Gardener.

I'm also attempting to make the longer version of no knead bread. Cross your fingers.

                                  Shhh...the dough is sleeping

I made some pretty delicious chicken noodle soup before I got too sick and added fresh lemon juice. It was Alton Brown's idea. 

Ok. Time for tea and a movie.

What I Did (And Made) While The Power Was Out

If you don't live in Connecticut, you've probably heard about unseasonal winter storm Alfred that led to some massive power outages across the state this week. If you are from CT, I sincerely hope you have your power back and are enjoying this post from the comfort of your home instead of an overcrowded Panera Bread. I was one of the lucky and very few that only lost power for about a day. Our cable and internet was out for about four days though and classes were cancelled all week. This resulted in me having a lot of downtime with very few distractions. So, what did I do? Take a look:

I started off the week with some creative bread-baking. I had a couple pippens left from my excursion to the orchard last week that needed to be turned into something delicious fast. I made a bastardized version of the bastardized baguette, an Apple-Walnut Batard, from Amanda Hesser's lovely book The Cook and The Gardener using a box of Hudson Mills multi-grain bread mix. It came out pretty good, though a bit dense for my tastes, but it makes a great breakfast bread.

Then I tackled those quinces I bought for a Renaissance-style Quince and Date Tart (post to follow.)

After a hard day of baking (really!) I went out for Halloween. Yes it was a Monday, but everyone was depressed because no one had power or work.  I was Norma Desmond and James was a vampire--I mean, a greaser.

Day 2 saw me tackle homemade pasta via the instructions on the bag of Bob's Red Mill semolina flour. Time consuming, but tasty. I made some rather wide noodles and tossed them with goat cheese and peas.

By Day 3 James' family's restaurant had internet back, so I spent some time there taking up a booth and checking my e-mail. And maybe being generally obnoxious. However, if you ever make it to Townline, definitely as for the mustache pizza.

Then I went home and made some quince butter.

Which went great with the Faster No-Knead Bread I made last night! Seriously, you have to try this recipe. You'll never buy bread again.

In addition to adding a few more culinary skills to my burgeoning repertoire, not having cable/internet/etc for a few days made me realize how much time I spend bumming around on the internet, as well as how stressed out it makes me. If Facebook was the problem, that would be one thing, but my problem is that I'm a bit (ok, a major) info junkie. It's easy for me to fall down a rabbit hole of mostly useless information when I could be spending that time making my own pasta. New resolution: spend less time on the internet starting.....now!