Fishy

We're at the end of our Florida vacation and we've seen a lot of dead fish. Luckily two of them have been delicious! The week before we arrived, it was so cold here that the beech is littered with fishies which got way too chilly. (We even saw them floating next to the alligators in the Everglades - so you KNOW it was cold here.)

But what I really want to tell you about is the delicious fish that were healthily swimming in the morning and ended up on our plate that night. We know they were healthy because our favorite fish market, Paradise Shrimp Company in Marco Island, goes to the docks every morning for the freshest catch.

Scott, the chef/fishmonger at Paradise Shrimp recommended the Florida Pompano. We were excited to give the girls an extra lesson in where their food comes from by purchasing the entire fish to cook. Although those eyeballs staring up at us were a bit daunting, the cooking couldn't have been easier. Scott instructed us to fill the fish cavity with lemons, then salt and pepper the outside after sprinkling the smooth silvery skin with a slick of olive oil.

We cooked the Pompano at 450 degrees for five minutes per inch. And Scott's instructions were right on. The fish was tender, super moist but not at all oily and the flavor was incredibly delicate and almost sweet. The girls ate it up, almost right off the thick, jagged bones.

Last night, we cooked an entire yellow-tailed snapper. Same instructions. Same results: Delicious! However, this time, the flavor was different in a good way. The snapper had a stronger fish flavor and was not as moist, but not dry or 'fishy'. It only needed a little black pepper and Meyer lemon (from our tree out back!) We did need to watch for pin bones for the girls. And my mother-in-law liked it so much, she ate the snapper's eyeball!! (She'd heard it was a 'delicacy' somewhere in the world.) In case you're curious, she said it tasted fishy and squishy.

A Birthday Buche de Noel

As I lick the last crumbs of orange-almond cake with chocolate buttercream frosting from my fork today at tea time, I realize it is this delicious Buche de Noel cake that should bring me back from my sabbatical. I’ve taken a few months off to deal with morning sickness – that hormone-induced nausea that saps all energy and makes you feel rotten no matter the time of day. I’m five months pregnant and again able to indulge in sweet delights, like the traditional French Christmas cake shaped like a Yule log.

I decided to make this sweet indulgence for my little girl’s second birthday. We wanted it to be a special day for her – even though the date is so close to Christmas.

Despite the fact that the Buche de Noel was for her, my precious toddler was more of a hindrance than a help baking the cake. I used Julia Child’s recipe (I found it in Food & Wine’s Holiday Favorites not in Mastering the Art of French Cooking) and now I know why Julia did not have toddlers helping her in the kitchen. The second that I turned my back to reach for a spatula to scrape the last of the ground almonds and sugar out of the food processor, my daughter was upsetting the bowl of egg whites I’d just separated. And so it went with me measuring and re-measuring, mixing and folding very, very slowly through the creating of an almond, orange chiffon jellyroll cake using orange zest and juice, almond extract and a scant amount of cake flour. My daughter watched the entire process from the second rung of the step-stool. Luckily I started two days before her party.

What fun it was to show my four-year-old daughter that after taking the jellyroll cake from the oven, it was to be rolled up in a dishtowel! She’s baked many a cake with me, but never a jellyroll. She was flabbergasted!

The next day, both girls helped me knead the food coloring into almond paste (inside a plastic bag to avoid red/green stained little fingers) to create marzipan insects. Julia didn’t suggest them; and I suppose there aren’t many bugs crawling around the snow-covered logs in French forests...but it was a kid’s birthday cake. And while we didn’t resort to gummy worms, we thought a few bright green caterpillars with red spots and red ladybugs with yellow spots were in order.

That night, after the girls were in bed, I made the meringue mushrooms. I felt like a French pastry chef! Well, almost; they easily turned out looking like real mushrooms. Without a Julia-prescribed pastry bag, I used a plastic sandwich bag and piped them onto parchment paper; just little 2-inch wide domes and then a separate stem that stood straight up on the paper. They baked to a golden-cream mushroom color.

And on the day of the birthday party, I whipped up the chocolate buttercream with yummy ingredients like brandy (because our liquor cabinet is fresh out of rum), rum flavoring (just in case the rum was an essential flavor), coffee, rich chocolate and leftover meringue.
Decorating the cake was tricky at first, but easier once I discovered that Julia’s chocolate buttercream could cover a multitude of torn jellyroll cake sins. (Yes, when I unrolled the cake, it cracked quite a bit; more powdered sugar on the cake and dishtowel next time.) Seeing the evergreen boughs on our advent wreath made me think that dying coconut green would make it look like pine boughs. It didn’t. Instead, sprinkled around the cake, it looked like bright green grass. However, it was perfect into which bright green and red marzipan bugs could nestle. Thus I held off on the traditional dusting of snow on the log, since that would confuse obvious summer seasonal look of our log.

The buttercream was lovely glue for attaching the mushroom stems to the tops. Dusted with cocoa, they were fine looking mushrooms; melt-in-your-mouth tasty ones too! And they were the finishing touches to the Yule log.

All the kids, adults and my little girls devoured what became a whimsical (and not very traditional) but most scrumptious Buche de Noel birthday cake.

Organic Brown Eggs $2

We just returned from what I’m calling our ‘farmcation,’ (similar to the popular and economical staycation, but instead of staying home for our summer vacation, we stayed on Grandma’s farm.)

The hand-made brown wooden sign down the road from Grandma’s was painted in white, hung from a tree, and advertised “Organic Brown Eggs $2.” The new neighbor had around 50 beautiful Isa Brown laying hens; he also had new baby chicks only a few days old. My little girls adored seeing the chicks under a heat lamp in a cardboard box in his garage. The neighbor told us they were even hatched by the hens. (We didn’t have chickens on our farm when I was young, but all our neighbors ordered their chicks from a catalog and they arrived in a box by mail.) The lone rooster, it was reported, crowed every morning at 4:17!

My baby was so excited to see all the fluffy brown hens running around – and also, no doubt, to know where the eggs she was about to eat came from – she screeched with joy! We bought two dozen of the beautiful brown eggs for $4.00. (We would have paid $10.00 at our local farmers market.)

At home, I curiously conducted a taste test against conventional store-bought eggs. At 20 months and 4 years, the members of my tasting panel did not have most discerning palates; they liked all the eggs hard-boiled and scrambled. My husband and I also participated. Here are our results:
· Egg shells: Conventional – pale brown; organic brown – darker, but still relatively pale brown with (pretty) brown speckles
· Egg yolks both when raw and cooked: Conventional – yellow; organic brown – brighter orange-yellow
· Taste: Conventional – the egg-y taste I’m accustomed to and adore; organic brown – richer, deeper egg flavor

Sweet Donuts

We turned off Interstate 94 in hopes of locating the ice cream shop I’d read was in Kalamazoo. (I later remembered it was Tommie’s Goodie Shop and is known for its creative homemade flavors.) We never found the ice cream shop.

What we did discover was Sweetwater’s Donut Mill. It was just a few minutes off the expressway on the main drag, Stadium Drive. Always on a quest for a good plain unglazed cake donut (the standardized test for a donut shop), I am not one to pass up a promising-looking independent donut shop. There are a few good ones in my area of western suburban Chicago: Kay’s Bakery in Forest Park, Honey Bee Bakery in Downer’s Grove and Bridgeport Bakery on the South Side of Chicago. They all have what I consider their specialties – but none of them do all things donuts well. For example, Bridgeport Bakery’s Boston Cream donut is tremendous (with homemade vanilla cream), but their chocolate glaze is too sweet on the chocolate cake and the plain unglazed is passable.

The perfect donut shop must also have a lunch counter with stools for patrons to sit upon and drink black coffee from white enamel diner cups. The donut shop I discovered in tiny Peru, Illinois, on the way back from a camping trip has such a lunch counter, which is frequented by older gentlemen catching up on town gossip. The fact that donuts in Peru are also only 50 cents a-piece adds a great deal to the shop’s charm.

Donuts at Sweetwater’s are 84 cents a-piece and I have no problem paying this price for any donut worth its sugary, fried weight. I am happy to support a good old-fashioned donut shop. And Sweetwater’s Donut Mill was that type of shop; with a lunch counter to boot!

As we walked in the door, the Sweetwater’s counter attendant was just bringing out a fresh wire tray of hot cinnamon and sugar dusted cake donuts – at 4 o’clock in the afternoon. And I can nearly guarantee the same experience for you, whenever you should arrive. Sweetwater’s makes fresh, hot donuts all day long because they are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week.

Sweetwater’s plain cake was rich and cakey, but not too heavy. Tiny dark specks in the donut confirmed the ever-so-subtle flavor of sweet nutmeg. But there wasn’t even a hint of old-grease flavor. It was a sweet and simply delicious product; and it passed the quality test with very high marks.

The Peanut Butter Cup donut was an entirely different breed of donut. Smothered with home-made peanut frosting and generously filled with chocolate buttercream, it wasn’t very simple – but it was delicious. The cherry cake was heavy with tiny pieces of maraschino cherries and was truly pretty in pink. Even the French Crueller, which the counter attendant threw in for free, “Because I think they’re only good when they’re still hot,” was light, fluffy, egg-y and sweet fried goodness. The chocolate cake was deep dark cocoa. There were over twenty varieties; many were original like Snickers, Banana Cream Pie and Reeses.

The shop doesn’t have a web site, but they do have three locations in Michigan: 3333 Stadium Drive and 2138 Sprinkle Road both in Kalamazoo, and I-94 at Capital in Battle Creek.

Back to Say Hi....And Some Cherry Pie

I’m back. Life has been nutty lately; mostly in a good way, but there’s been a few trials sprinkled in too. Most importantly, we are thankful we all healthy now and it’s my intent to post to this site regularly.

It’s perfect timing that I’m resuming this post immediately after sour cherry pitting time. For the past three summers, we’ve pitted cherries together with my grandmother’s antique cherry pitter. At two, my daughter was interesting in standing on a very tall stool and turning the crank a few times; at three she was excited about the whole process until the crank got stuck on a stubborn pit and she got frustrated. This year, I gave her the small crate of cherries and a few instructions and she did everything from washing to dumping the pits at the end.

First we made muffins with the freshly pitted cherries. To our old-standby muffin recie, we added a ½ cup of whole wheat flour for nuttiness and a bit of healthfulness. We also added a whole teaspoon of vanilla to the recipe for 12 muffins. Mmmm, the aroma of cherry vanilla muffins was sublime.

Next, we made a 4th of July rhubarb cherry pie. The rhubarb was from our garden and I had to pick it in the rain. (Yes, it rained on our parade yesterday.) The deep red, sweet-sour pie was the perfect end to our meal of burgers from the grill – eaten inside – as we waited for the rain to stop and fireworks to begin.

Eggs twice her age

My daughter turned four a couple days ago. We made her lime chiffon birthday cake together. In a chiffon cake recipe, egg whites are beat until stiff, and then folded into the batter before it’s poured into cake pans. The fluffy egg whites produce a cake with a wonderfully light texture.

The recipe called for eight egg whites. So I set my daughter up with an egg separator – a small plastic utensil that is placed over a cup/ramekin. When an egg is cracked into the egg separator, the white drips through the holes in the bottom and the yolk stays in the utensil.

Now, for a little girl who is a few days away from being four, it is quite an exercise in concentration to keep all the steps of separating the yolks and whites of EIGHT eggs. First, there is the whole egg cracking process. I remember the first time, a couple months ago that I let my three-year-old crack an egg. I was prepared for egg carnage all over the kitchen. In actuality, she was so careful, she didn’t crack it hard enough for the first several tries.

When cracking eggs into an egg separator, my daughter had to remember to place the egg separator on top of the ramekin BEFORE cracking the egg into the cup – otherwise the yolk must be fished out of the ramekin with a spoon – defeating the entire purpose of the egg separator. If the egg separation has been successful, she then had to remember to dump the egg yolk into the bowl with egg yolks and the white into the bowl with other whites, and NOT visa versa and BEFORE she cracked another egg into the separator. Like I said, it took a great deal of concentration.

We had a few mishaps along the way; a few fishing excursions for egg yolks. But in the end, I was impressed. My daughter completed the egg separation process eight times. And then we measured, dumped and mixed our way through the rest of the recipe.

The resulting birthday cake was light and fluffy with a light lime flavor to complement the texture. To top it off, we didn’t use artificial whipped topping as specified in the recipe. We used real whipped cream and flavored it with lime zest and powdered sugar. However, after all that, I think my daughter liked blowing out the candles even more than eating the cake; such is the magic of having a birthday when you’re four.

Superdawg Lounges Inside

It was sunny spring day on Lake Michigan today.

The photo speaks for itself: There were lots of people out buying the Chicago favorite; the hot dog. (Yes those are giant hot dogs on top of the building.)

Some of the purchased dogs were Superdawgs, "comfortably lounging in Superfries." And all of them had NO KETCHUP.

Hot dogs - or red hots - are not served with ketchup in Chicago. Instead the traditional dog is served on a warm poppy seed bun, with sweet pickle relish, chopped tomatoes, pickeled green tomoato, chopped onions, a dill pickle spear, "sport peppers" (they're hot!) and mustard.

We were lucky enough to visit the friendly car hops at Superdawg. The dogs and the hand-cut fries (that still included some 'tato skin) were delicious. All those flavors of sweet, sour, spicey and meaty umami were delicious. And of course, the sunshine made them taste even better.