Brownies Meant to Be

Dinner just wasn't meant to be. The cold that I'd been fending off all week flourished on Friday night so Saturday morning we made the difficult decision to cancel our dinner party for that night.

I don't think I believe in destiny but it really makes me wonder about things that are "meant to be" given all the circumstances that aligned so that it was inevitable that that dinner was not going to take place on Saturday (see Kitchen Goddess).

I spend Saturday languishing on my chaise lounge, surrounded by kleenex, magazines, and Advil Cold and Sinus. Anything I eat is tasteless. Freshly squeezed orange juice...could be water with little bits of stuff in it for all my tastebuds know. A piece of rich gorgeous 70% dark chocolate...absolutely nothing. What a waste. However, I can't keep my eyes off the cover of the February Bon Appetit magazine. These amazing looking brownies.

Today I feel better but decide not to go to spin class. The Hubby goes by himself. I feel like I've given him a little gift to be able to go to the new espresso bar afterward and gush over the owner's baking that is the best he's ever tasted without the burden of my eye-rolling. But while he is gone, maybe it's my competitive spirit, but I suddenly have the urge to bake those brownies (see Cocoa Brownies with Browned Butter and Walnuts).

These brownies are made by hand - no mixing machine. Two eggs must be beaten into the batter one at a time. The instructions are to vigorously beat after each egg. I forget to factor in weakness from too much languishing. Nearly does me in. After I add the flour I'm again instructed to beat the batter for 60 strokes - vigorously. A little warning about the physical requirements of this dessert would have been nice. A disclaimer in the beginning cautioning prospective bakers of the need for good health and a high level of arm fitness. I call on the Adolescent to help me but he's cuddling with the Beamer...(and this is why I keep on baking for him)...

Brotherly love

So I have to dole out my vigor bit by bit but at last they are ready for the oven. They take way longer to bake than the recipe suggests, a whole 12 mins longer, but they eventually are ready and they're beautiful.

Cocoa Brownies with Browned Butter and Walnuts

The Adolescent doesn't like them. He wanted Cinnamon Buns instead. But when he sees my face he realizes the mistake he's made so VIGOROUSLY tries to back-pedal but it's SOOO way too late.

The Hubby returns from spin class and looks deeply satisfied. Yes he stopped by the espresso bar and had a latte and a pecan tart. He tries one of my brownies. He says they're the best he's ever tasted. I choose to believe him. It's been a long week. 

Kitchen Goddess

I'm undecided whether the Kitchen Goddess is supporting me to cook more or supporting me to cook less.

I have been planning all week what to do for the Gourmet Group when they come for dinner this Saturday. The theme is Japanese Izakaya. This is similar to tapas. Small dishes and a lot of them. I don't think we've done Japanese before. This is saying something since we've been doing this for over 20 years and we've covered a lot of ground. The best theme, which of course was ours, that I thought was exceptionally creative given the situation, but that has received countless taunts over the years, was: Not Using Any Indoor Heat Producing Equipment. It was in the middle of a hot steamy summer. We barbequed everything, including dessert. We thought it was very imaginative. Out of the box thinking. Certainly not any worse than others' previous themes: Eating in the Dark, Cavemen, Titanic, American (canned mini wieners)!

They ridicule us...still.

Anyway, for Izakaya night I plan to make Mango Ice Cream. I order an ice cream maker online just a couple of days ago. I figure if it doesn't come in time I'll be justified to buy dessert. Unfortunately it arrives yesterday...yay.

I plan out what ingredients we'll need to buy. I figure out if the menu is even doable by one person in a day. Saturday will be busy but I resign myself to the event.

Then yesterday I receive an email from one of our members. His wife is in hospital and needs to have her gallbladder out. They won't be able to make it to Izakaya night. Darn. We can't possibly go ahead without them. We cancel. (We're sad for our friend but) We Rejoice. If we play our cards right we might be able to put off our hosting duties for another two years! Then I think about my responsibility to all my legions of loyal readers (I know there's at least 4 now). Drats. This blog is cramping my style. Drats drats drats. I wallow in my ambivalence for as long as possible. Even the Hubby tells me not to plan anything. But my conscience takes over. I send the other two couples an email asking them if they still want to come for dinner. Hopefully I've waited long enough so that they've already made other plans. No such luck. They would all LOVE to come. Oh yay.

Then one of the members tells me that his wife is detoxing. No alcohol, no red meat, no potatoes, no grains, no alcohol, no sugar. WHAT!? Are you kidding me?! SURELY they shouldn't be coming for dinner! But oh no. They're real troopers. He'll eat anything. She'll make do with vegs and fruits. My happiness knows no bounds.

Kitchen Goddess: friend or foe?

Baking Worth Stalking For?

So yesterday, after our spin class, the Hubby takes me and Mary across the street, bypassing the Starbucks, to the new espresso bar which he has been trying not to stalk since my last posting (see Sad and Sorry 3!). I had to try the butter tart and banana loaf that the Hubby claims is the best he's ever tasted. Tell me, is this a wise claim? I AM a baker! We each order a coffee. We order a butter tart and banana loaf to share. We put the plate of goodies in the centre of the table and inspect.

First of all, it's a PECAN tart and PUMPKIN SPICE loaf. Already we are doubting the Hubby's tastebuds. We divide each into 3 pieces. First the loaf. It has a dollop of cream cheese baked into the centre - nice touch. It is sprinkled on top with pumpkin seeds - good contrasting crunchiness. We taste it. It's good...but it's definitely not the best banana loaf I've ever tasted!!!

Now we turn our attention to the pecan tart. I taste it. The crust is absolutely divine. It is flaky and melts in my mouth at the same time. On the strength of the pastry I'd say it is one of the best pecan tarts I've ever tasted. But I can't claim it's THE best. How then would I account for the baking that has the love of someone who's making it especially for you? I think of the Rock Cake that my sister made for Scarlett's 6th birthday. I could never say it was the worst Rock Cake I've ever eaten because the love (and vast amounts of creativity) that went into that cake elevated it into A Conversation Piece Cake. 

A few words on raisins. I don't understand why this little fruit elicits such huge negative responses. No one ever gushes how much they LOVE raisins, no one claims that they can't eat just one raisin but have to eat the whole bag, no one fantasizes about how if they were trapped on a desert island they would choose raisins as their only food. And lots of people HATE raisins. HATE them with passion. What is so offensive about them?! The Pecan Tart happened to have a few raisins in it. Mary will not touch it. I rid her portion of all offending substances. She still won't eat it. Apparently the Raisin infuses the entire dessert. I manage to cajole her into trying a toxin-free morsel of crust. As soon as it touches her lips, she is repulsed, her body automatically rejecting it. I didn't count her vote when deciding this pecan tart's worth. Raisin-haters are not objective voters.

The Hubby is back at the new espresso bar this morning. Today the owner "forces" a cranberry bran muffin on him. It is the best bran muffin he's ever had. Really...this is getting old...

At Last!

Finally I have cooking news to report! Tonight it's family night of sorts. Ken and Dayle. Ken's mom and my dad are "girlfriend/boyfriend". That makes us step siblings of sorts. We think this is funny. Our parents have  been together for 13 years, after Ken's dad and my mom died. Ken's mom is Finnish. There is a certain karma about this as my dad is half Swedish but isn't really in tune with that part of his heritage. Ken's mom brings Scandinavian flair to our family. We are now fans of Fazer Mints and FinnCrisp crackers. Ken's mom is a kind and loving woman. She believes strongly in the importance of family. She encourages my dad to express his loving feelings to me and my sister. She raised Ken well who we determined has 2 out of 3 of the characteristics that are in my definition of the Perfect Man.

Dayle, Ken, and the Hubby

For Ken and Dayle I try a new dessert: Meyer Lemon Custard Cakes http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/cookingclub/2009/02/meyer_lemon_custard_cakes

This is the first time that I've used Meyer lemons. They are a bit smaller and rounder than regular lemons. The flesh is a little darker. The taste is lemon-orange. It's one of these desserts that have very little flour in it and when it bakes it separates into 2 layers: a soft cake and a lemony sauce. You bake each serving individually in a ramekin cup. To serve you invert one onto a plate so that the the sauce is on top.

The recipe suggests that the cakes be served with creme fraiche. If you've never had creme fraiche you should try it. It goes well with the Meyer Lemon Custard Cake. To make creme fraiche you mix 2 cups of whipping cream with 1 cup of sour cream and you leave it at room temperature for about 24 hours until the mixture thickens. Then you chill it in the fridge before serving. And I made fun of the Adolescent for eating the bad ketchup (see Best Grilled Cheese Ever)!

Meyer Lemon Custard Cake with Creme Fraiche

Here are two of my tips for successful entertaining:

1. Have a good kitchen bitch. I have the Hubby. He is one of the best. He knows when is the time to think for himself, share his tricks for doing things better, point out the errors in my ways. When you are in the role of Kitchen Bitch, the time is never. 

2. Lots of candlelight. It makes everything, including Kitchen Bitches and Near Perfect Men, look good.

Every good Kitchen Bitch needs a Sidekick: the Hubby and the Beamer making sure there is lots of candlelight

Best Grilled Cheese Ever

I have high expectations that I will raise the Adolescent to become the Perfect Man. These hopes fade with each passing day...

Last night the Adolescent had a dilemma. He made himself two grilled cheese sandwiches. He makes the Best Grilled Cheese Ever. He settles in to really enjoy them. But they need ketchup. He looks in the fridge for the ketchup. Not there. Where could it be? He had ketchup a couple of nights ago and the bottle was half full. He asks me where is the ketchup? How do I know??? Then he discovers it, right where he left it a couple of nights ago, right by the couch where he chills. He asks me if it's ok to eat it. NO, definitely NO. He checks the label: Keep Refrigerated. He looks it up on the internet: Risky to eat due to bacterial growth. He carefully considers all the facts. Carefully considers all the risks. Really stretches that part of his adolescent brain that's responsible for good decision making. The answer is clear.

Clear as ketchup.

Sad and Sorry 3!

I resolve that the next post I publish will be about positive developments.

But first...

The Hubby confesses he hasn't even read my last two posts. My own hubby!

I think he's too busy stalking the girl at the new espresso bar in our neighbourhood.

We both really love our coffee. Our favourite place is Starbucks. Even our kids are hooked. One day over the holidays, while at the cottage up north, someone expressed a fleeting fantasy of having a Starbucks coffee. Within seconds someone had investigated it and discovered that the nearest Starbucks was a 40 min drive away. In the next second the Daughter offered to drive. A mere half second later the Hubby and several other junkies were in the car armed with the coffee order. TWO HOURS later they were back (they got lost on the way there). None of us questioned the sanity of it all. We just really enjoyed those coffees.

These are them

But back to recent developments. Yesterday, the Hubby went to the new espresso bar for the first time after spin class, walking right past the Starbucks to do so. He likes to support local business. He got an espresso. It's the best coffee he's ever had. He chats with the young woman who owns the place (he's naturally a friendly sociable guy). She just opened it 3 months ago. She does all her own baking on the premises. She convinces him to try one of her butter tarts. He eats it when he gets home. It's the best butter tart he's ever had. He CALLS HER to tell her (a little unusual but still nice). It makes her day. He GOES BACK there this morning (verging on creepy). She gives him a banana loaf (her bestseller) to try. It's the best banana loaf he's ever had. With trepidation I ask: did you call her to tell her (I don't want to have to put any narrative in these brackets!)? Thankfully, he refrained.

But I know he wants to. Because that's what baking does to you.

Sad and Sorry Part 2

The ONLY thing I made this weekend, the only thing I made this whole week in fact (and the verb "made" is being generous), is Watermelon-Strawberry and Orange-Pineapple Bru. These are electrolyte solutions. They are for replacing the stuff that gets lost through the copious amounts of sweat that the Hubby and I produce while spinning for 2 hours every Sunday. To summarize: the only food prep I did this week was to combine powdered electrolytes with water and shook.

I continue to seek inspiration.

I may be going through an unusually long drought with cooking but I usually, at the very least, make Sunday morning breakfast. However, this morning I didn't because I attended the funeral of the father of a work colleague. I thought there might be disappointment from my family for missing the food that I make with such love and devotion. But no one even seemed to notice. As I was walking into the house upon return from the funeral I happened to cross paths with the Adolescent who had just woken up. He grunted something. I think it was hello. Didn't ask where I'd been. Didn't even seem to register that there was no bacon sizzling on the stove, no pancakes on the griddle. Has my family given up on me?


I called my sister for inspiration. She tried. But then she confessed that she hasn't even been reading my blog...forgot I was writing one!!! One day I'm going to get some sisterly revenge and blog about the Hard as Rock Cake that she made for Scarlett's birthday a couple of years ago! The best she could come up with is a question: why do I want to cook? Not bad...for a baker of Rock Cakes...

One of my friends also tried to be helpful. He had a bunch of good ideas (good ideas if you actually cook!). He should write his own blog: Great Ideas for Others. But he is also the one I asked to invite me over for dinner. I still don't have an invite. I think he's intimidated or something. Intimidated??? Has he not been reading my blog either?!


The search continues.