The Word I Hate To Speak

But love to eat. Which is why I continue to struggle to make m-u-f-f-i-n-s. Because the ones you buy in the store? I dunno. They always taste either way overloaded with sugar and chemicals or like something you'd get if a troop of hippies spent all morning stoned to the gills on really, really good whatever it is stoners like to smoke, listening to "Suite for Judy Blue Eyes" over and over on the stereo, and then decided to bake. Dude.

Anyway. Emma, I didn't forget about you. I've just been really, really busy. And I made these back in, oh, God, May I think. Two recipes. Both from my handy dandy Williams and Sonoma Muffins cookbook. The first recipe, for carrot-nut muffins, is all earth mother crunchy. About the only thing they're good for is hiking, 'cause if you're seven miles into a trek up the side of a mountain and the last meal you had was four hours ago, you'll eat just about anything. The second, however, I think approaches near muffin perfection in terms of texture and taste. The first is made with oil. The second with butter. Proving, once again, my theory that nothing on God's great green earth despite the Mojave, beats butterfat.

See what you think.

Carrot-Nut Muffins

What:
4 large eggs
1 cup canola or walnut oil
2 cups granulated sugar
3 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon allspice
12 ounces shredded carrots
1-1/2 cups coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans (or any nut of choice, really)

How:
Preheat oven to 350º F. Spray 24 standard muffin or 16 large muffin cups (will give you larger muffins) with non-stick spray.

Sift all dry ingredients, minus carrots and nuts, together in large bowl. Set aside.

In bowl of electric stand mixer, combine the eggs, oil, and sugar and beat for one minute on medium speed. Add sifted dry ingredients and beat on low speed until smooth. If you're pretty burly, do this by hand with a sturdy wooden spoon.

Then, using a large spatula, fold in the carrots and nuts until combined.

Fill muffin cups 3/4 of the way full with batter.

Bake 20-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into middle comes out clean. Let cool 5 minutes before un-molding.

See, even the batter looks crunchy:



And the end result. See that weird texture? That's what you get with oil.



Lemon-Poppy Seed Muffins

What:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, separated
1-1/3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons poppy seeds
grated zest of 2 lemons
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 tablespoons coarse raw sugar

How:
Preheat oven to 350ºF. Spray 10 standard muffin cups with non-stick spray.

Stir together flour, baking powder, baking soda, poppy seeds, lemon zest, and salt. Set aside.

In bowl of electric stand mixer, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg yolks, one at a time, and beat well after each addition until fully incorporated. Add the dry ingredients to the mixture in two batches, alternating with the buttermilk, then the lemon juice and vanilla. Beat just until smooth.

In another large bowl, beat the two egg whites until they form soft peaks. Gently fold into the batter until just blended.

Fill muffin cups 3/4 of the way full. Sprinkle the top of each with some raw sugar.

Bake 20-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into middle comes out clean. Let cool 5 minutes before un-molding.

See? Pretttttyyyyy.

Birthday Pie

In response to Da Troll’s challenge to come up with a pie to celebrate Secretariat’s birthday on this Sunday, March 30th, I thought I would present to you one of my all-time favorite pies. Y’all most likely know this one. It’s scandalously easy, and oh-so-cheesy and I mean that figuratively, like, in a very 1970s way.

Lately, I've been on this 1970s kick. The fashion, the décor. Trans Ams. Famolares. Farrah Fawcett hair. Those little round, bright yellow radios on chains – remember those? – playing Terry Jacks' "Season in the Sun" over and over and over. AND, Secretariat was born in 1970. So there you have it. The ‘70s were simply fab.

Anyway, I was introduced to the weird deliciousness of Pistachio Pineapple Pie by one of my Aunts, my father’s youngest sister, a woman of exceptional patience and humor who each summer for several years had the dubious honor of hosting me, my brother, my father, and my bazillion cousins at her house in Massachusetts. How this woman put up with all our happy asses for two whole months, camped out as we were on her back lawn, running savage through the neighborhood, eating her out of house and home, I’ll never know. I should ask her one day. I wouldn’t be surprised if her answer was: “Percoset.” She did, after all, work for a dentist for a while.

At any rate, one of her favorite things to do with us was bake. Seriously. Five bazillion of us kids in her kitchen at one time, only two of us girls, making, among other things, this pie. And when it was finished, she’d mock-screech at us: “Now out of my hair and my kitchen, you little horrors [it always came out hah-ruhs – she may have been living in suburban New England bliss, but she was NYC born ‘n’ raised]. No pie for you until after dinner.”

And although I am posting this recipe in honor of a birth, I must also tell you one other association I have with this dessert. It was the pie we ate in silent solemnity the night my uncle came home, eyes rimmed red, his face slack, to tell us that Elvis Presley had just died.

Enjoy.

What:
1 16 oz. can crushed pineapple, undrained
1 four person-serving package of instant pistachio-flavored Jell-O pudding
1 16 oz. tub Cool Whip
1 graham cracker crust, preferably homemade, but whatever, for 9" round pie pan
1 cup whipped cream, whipped up until stiff and fluffy, with two tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup chopped pistachios, unsalted

How:
In a large mixing bowl, stir together pineapple with juice and Cool Whip. Sprinkle in pudding, a little at a time, and whip well to avoid lumps. Poor into crust. Put in refrigerator and let set until firm, 2-3 hours. Top with the whipped cream and chopped pistachios.

Make Cake, Not War

Recently, the Troll, one of Moi's 3.75 male readers, posted a recipe for what looks like a really yummy apple cake as a comment in response to one of Moi's posts. I think he posted out of sheer frustration over yet another one of my guy-mystifying ruminations on fashion, which I'm sure makes the Troll's brain itch. Most likely, he wants me to get back to posting something political, just so he can poke fun at Moi's libertarian viewpoints (are Libertarians True Conservatives or Raving Lunatics Who Just Want a Second Amendment Excuse to Wave Around their New 9mm Glocks While Drinking Martinis? Discuss.)

But, really, fashion hurts Moi's brain less than navigating the murky waters of today's pool of poleetical candidates.

So as penance, I'm posting the Troll's recipe. I've made similar cakes before and I can attest that apple cake is totally yummy. But, usually, like this one, nekkid. So I posted a suggested frosting, too.

Apple Cake:

1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
3 cups sifted flour
1 tsp. Baking Soda
1/2 tsp. Kosher Salt
1 tsp. Cinnamon
3 cups thin sliced Granny Smith apples
1-1/2 cups Wesson Oil (note from Moi: a very light virgin olive oil works, too)
2 eggs slightly beaten
2 tsp. Vanilla
1/2 cup Coconut
1/2 cup Walnuts

Preheat oven to 350º F. Grease and flour a 9x13 pan.

Mix sugar, flour, soda, salt and cinnamon. Add apples and mix until well-coated. Add oil, eggs, vanilla, coconut and walnuts. Pour into pan and bake for one hour.

Then come up with a good frosting of your own creation if desired.

To frost, I suggest:

Fluffy White Frosting:
1 cup milk
1/4 cup flour
1 cup granulated sugar
2 sticks butter, softened but not melted
1 tsp. Vanilla

In a large saucepan over low heat, combine the milk, flour, and sugar and cook, stirring constantly, until a pudding-like consistency is achieved. Transfer into mixing bowl of a stand mixer and allow to cool to room temperature. When cooled, add softened butter and vanilla and beat until fluffy. Frost cake.

What would YOU top this cake with?

Green Chile Chicken Enchilada Pie

If you happened to have read Moi's post on New Mexico's most famous and lucrative cash crop, and wondered, "That's all very well and good, but what do you all actually do with the stuff?" here's your answer.

You grow up in New Mexico, you can bet your family has in its recipe vaults some version or another of this enchilada casserole. No, we did not invent enchiladas. Just enchilada pie. It's as authentically New Mexican as you can get, comfort food at its finest.

This recipe was bestowed upon my mother by one of my home town's most venerable cooks. My mom passed it on to me. Now I pass it along to you.

What:
2-3 cups authentic New Mexican green chiles, skin and seeds removed (24 to 30 chiles)
1 small yellow onion, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 11 ounce cans of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup, uncooked, straight out of can
12 ounces of real, full fat sour cream
1-1/2 pounds cooked chicken breast chopped into bite-sized pieces
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon authentic New Mexican red chile powder
3/4 tablespoon salt
1/2 tablespoon fresh ground black pepper
2 tablespoons Harvey's Bristol Cream Sherry
18 6" corn tortillas
8 ounces shredded sharp cheddar cheese

How:

Chop green chiles into bite-sized pieces. Place in big mixing bowl.


Add the chopped onion and garlic, soup, sour cream, chicken, spices, and sherry. Mix well.

Spray a 9x13 glass pan with non-stick cooking spray and line with six corn tortillas. They come in packages like so, the best being our locally manufactured Bueno Brand.
In fact, these fine folks, who I know well, are your best resource for all things authentically New Mexican, from spices to tortillas to frozen chile and pre-made dinners. Check em out at: http://www.buenofoods.com/

Anyway. This is how your lined pan will look:



Then, place one third of your chile/chicken mixture on top and spread evenly to the sides. Sprinkle with a third of the shredded cheddar cheese. Repeat two more times, for a total of three layers.



At this point, you can cover the casserole with heavy duty aluminum foil and freeze for up to six months, un-thawing overnight in the refrigerator before baking. If ready to bake now, simply pop into a pre-heated 375º F oven for 45-60 minutes, let sit for five minutes before serving, cut, and serve with a side of refried pinto beans, Spanish rice, and a dollop of even more sour cream.

As for liquid accompaniment, I find that the only wine that really pairs well with New Mexican cooking is, well, a New Mexican wine. Before any you oenophiles get all precious on Moi, know this: New Mexico is the oldest wine producing region in all of North America. They make wines here that will knock your socks off, so there. One of them, IMHO, is Santa Fe Vineyards's Tinto del Sol, a medium -bodied Cabernet blend with a rosy nose that brings out the best in either red or green chile. Ponderosa Valley Vineyards also makes a superlative Riesling, whose character is bold but sweet enough not to get overpowered by the chile. Otherwise, just save the strain on your brain and serve the pie with a good Mexican beer.

El Perfecto Chocolate Mousse

It's my contention that more words have been wasted debating the proper texture of chocolate mousse than that of any other dessert in the known universe. (Well, except maybe cobbler.) Which is why I nearly didn't post a chocolate mousse recipe. For some, the only proper mousse is something that bears a striking resemblance to cotton candy - light, airy, and elusive on the tongue. Still others turn their noses up in disgust at anything that doesn't resemble a texture so dense, it's like a fudge gone wrong – you can literally stand your spoon stick straight up in the middle of it, go dancing around the room in your underwear, and then come back to check and, yup, the spoon's still standing at attention where you left it.

I tend to lean towards dense myself. One, because it means you have to cook the egg yolks – an extra step, I know, but what price extra step if it means the immuno-compromised in your bunch won't fall over dead from salmonella poisoning once the dessert course is finished?

And two, dense means I can scoop the mousse out all pretty-like into melon ball sized servings and hence curtail my normal impulse to ingest an entire martini-glass full of the stuff like the little piggy that I am. Although, yeah, from the photo above, it sure does look like I'm about to ingest more than just a melon ball full, that's for sure. But I'm suffering with the hanta virus crud, and it's now three days into my terrible, terrible sickness, and I am therefore finding that there is little left to live for in this world except chocolate mousse. And Canada Dry Ginger Ale.

Now join me, won't you, in my sickness:

What:
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped (or chips)
1 cup heavy cream
2 large eggs
Pinch salt
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

How:
Put the chocolate in a large sized heatproof bowl. Melt at 50 percent power in the microwave for about a minute. Stir. Keep melting in minute increments until almost melted. Stir to complete the job.

Whip the cream in a medium bowl until it holds soft peaks. Do not over whip (you'll know you've done so when it begins to look like butter, so stop just at the soft peak stage before complete anarchy ensues). Set aside.

Fill a medium saucepan halfway with water and set on the stove to boil.

Put the eggs, salt, and sugar into the bowl of an electric stand mixer, grab a big ol' balloon whisk and beat until foamy and light, about 30 seconds. Set the bowl over the boiling water (the water should just touch the bottom of the bowl; if not, add or subtract as necessary), and continue to whip with the whisk until the eggs get very fluffy and hot to the touch, about 3 minutes. I know, it's hard, but you must keep whisking briskly, otherwise you'll get scrambled eggs and cuss a blue streak my way, when really, it will be your own damn fault. At any rate, think of it as a bicep workout and suck it up.

Remove the bowl from the heat, attach to stand mixer, and continue beating on high speed with the balloon whisk attachment until a thick ribbon falls from the whisk when lifted out of the bowl, anywhere from 3 to 5 minutes more. If mixture is still hot, allow to cool to room temperature. Fold in the vanilla.

Fold about a quarter of the eggs into the chocolate to lighten it, then fold in the rest of the egg mixture. Finally, fold the whipped cream into the entire mixture and fold and fold (or, because I know your arm has just about had it by now, go ahead and just stir and stir – it won't really affect the texture) until everything has been uniformly blended into a smooth, light mousse.

Pour the mousse into 4 serving dishes or wine glasses. Cover and refrigerate until set, about 1 hour. Damn the cholesterol and serve with even more whipped cream on top. And chocolate sprinkles. And/or biscotti. Really, the possibilities are endless.

Alternatively, leave the mixture in the bowl, let set another hour longer in the fridge, and then scoop out with one of those cute melon ball scoopers into small bowls or dishes and impress your friends with the preciousness of it all.

As God Is My Witness

I'll never make pralines the old-fashioned way again.

Because in the three years I've dedicated myself to finding the perfect praline recipe, not only have I ingested enough sugar to keep all the dentists in the known universe in Mercedes and strippers, I have also reached levels of frustration that no one with my sensibility should ever have to reach. Yes, I like a challenge. What I do not like, is beating my head against a wall. It hurts.

To be sure, candy-making is fussy, fussy business. First, there are the vagaries of temperature – soft ball, hard ball, crackle stage. Then the chemistry involved in sugar crystal formation. Or, in the case of pralines, inhibited sugar crystal formation. Because nothing is worse than a grainy praline. Or one that's rock hard. The perfect praline is, instead, the absolute perfect melding of sugar, cream, butter, vanilla, and pecans into a creamy, melt-in-your-mouth confection that is firm but never crisp. And never, ever rock hard. That's brittle, Party People, not pralines.

Anyway. Over the past three years, I'd say I've reached success about 67.23 percent of the time. The other 32 some odd times, I ended up with either puddle or brittle. And a bit of a cry.

But no more. Our first night in Louisiana, my mother-in-law naturally laid out a bounteous spread for Christmas Eve noshing. 'Course, my focus was all on the sweet stuff – the chocolate pudding cake, the lemon ice box pie, the divinity, the fudge, and, oooo, what's this? A plate of perfect-looking pralines? So, I inquired, you've obviously mastered the trick of it. No, my mother-in-law replied. There is no trick. It's all done in the microwave.

Really?

Really.

Of course, I was blessed with the recipe, courtesy MIL's friend Nell Rogers. And I finally felt sufficiently de-stuffed last night to give these a go.

They're pretty much near perfect. The only difference I notice is perhaps a tad less depth of flavor that I believe is probably best achieved with the long-ass slow-cook time necessitated by the traditional method, which allows the caramel flavors to bloom more fully. Still. I think these are delicious enough to warrant the slight loss.

So, without further hesitation, here is Ms Rogers' recipe, with only one addition by Moi:

Perfect Pralines:

What:
16 ounces (one pound or two cups) firmly packed light brown sugar
8 ounces (one cup) cream
2 tablespoons light corn syrup (Moi's addition)
2 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
2 teaspoons vanilla
1-1/2 cup pecan halves (toasted if you wish*)

How:

Lay out two sheets of newspaper at least four pages thick along kitchen counter and cover with wax paper.

Into a large, deep microwave-proof bowl, stir together the brown sugar, cream, and corn syrup. Microwave on high for about 10 minutes, or until a candy thermometer reaches 235º F or the soft ball stage (check your mixture at 8 minutes).

Remove bowl from microwave (Carefully. The bowl will be super duper hot, so use your mittens and be careful not to drop. Likewise, resist all temptation to stick your finger into the mixture.) Immediately add the butter, vanilla, and pecan halves. Stir, stir, stir with a sturdy, long-handled wooden spoon until mixture starts to lose its sheen, cloud up, and thicken slightly, about a minute to two minutes. At that point, immediately spoon out onto your sheets of wax paper. The consistency we're looking for here is a mixture that will immediately hold its shape when dropped without spreading into a puddle, but not so thick you can't get it off the spoon. I've heard that if the mixture sets up too hard too quickly, you can add a tablespoon or so of water and re-microwave until you reach the proper consistency. But I think you've then blown the sugar crystal inhibition thing. Although, the product will probably taste just as good.

*To toast pecans, place pecan halves on a baking sheet and roast in pre-heated 350º F oven for 10-15 minutes, turning once. Be careful not to burn.

Enjoy. But one at a time. Otherwise, you may as well apply directly to your thighs and skip the mouth thing entirely.

When Life Hands Moi Tequila

This comes courtesy of the Pirate, that fabulously swashbuckling funster who, when not dragging her mother on a 5K run in the middle of a snowstorm or leaping 10,000 foot high mountains in her rockin' running skort, is cruising around looking for as many bits of high hilarity as she can stuff into one day.

Which comes in awfully handy at times like this when life's tapping its foot at Moi and I can't get in the kitchen (I had biscochitos and pralines and brickle oh my in mind for y'all this weekend, sniff!).

This is for fun. I think. Right?

Christmas Tequila Cookies

1 cup dark brown sugar
1 cup (two sticks) butter
1 cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs
2 cups dried fruit (dried cranberries or raisins)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans
2 cups all purpose flour
1 liter bottle Don Julio or Patron Tequila

First, sample the Tequila to check quality.
Take a large bowl. Check the Tequila to be sure it is of the highest quality.
Pour another 4 ounces in a measuring cup and drink.
Turn on the electric mixer.
Beat one cup of the butter in a large fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon sugar. Beat again.
At this point, it is best to make sure the Tequila is still OK.
Try another 4 ounces, just in case.
Turn off the mixerer thingy.
Break two leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit, picking the frigging fruit off the floor.
Mix on the turner.
If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, just pry it loose with a screwdriver.
Sample the Tequila to check for tonsisticity.
Next, sift 2 cups of salt or shomething.
Check the Tequila.
Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table.
Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find.
Greash the oven.
Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.
Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the Tequila and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

Cherry Mistmas