Chirky

After my husband and daughter, there are few things I love on earth more than food, in all its myriad forms: wandering grocery store aisles, discovering new eateries, spending time in my own kitchen. (And then, afterward, there are few things I love less than spending time cleaning in my own kitchen.) Baking and cookie are a labor of love for me, passed down through the generations.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions was baking cookies with my mother and grandmother, every kind of cookie you can imagine. My grandmother would have Tupperware after Tupperware piled high on her kitchen table, and when she ran out of room there, the containers of cookies would spill onto nearby chairs, counters, and the top of a nearby chest. It was insane, the number of cookies my mother and grandmother produced. In the thousands, I am sure. (And I say mother and grandmother, because most of my memories in the kitchen with them were when I was quite young; I did help some, but I did more cookie decorating and cookie eating than anything else. And it’s not even like I could get in trouble for sneaking a sweet here and there, because there were still so many left!)

But this recipe, Norwegian Delicacies, did not come from my given family. It came from my chosen family. I had never really had anything quite like it — maybe a cross between a sugared shortbread and a crescent cookie (some call them Mexican Wedding), but with the faintest hint of coconut. My mother-in-law (Hi, Mom!) has been making Norwegian Delicacies for more than fifty years. Though her own grandmother was from Norway, this recipe actually came from a Norwegian friend. Curious, as she pointed out, considering coconut isn’t exactly local produce in Norway.

I’ve made these cookies with my mother-in-law once, but I’ve eaten them on more than one occasion, and every single time it takes all the restraint in my body not to eat the entire batch. They’re crispy, light, sweet, and delicate, and if you catch them right out of the oven, they're slightly chewy in the center.

When I signed up for The Great Food Blogger Cookie Swap, I spent a lot of time mulling over which cookie to make. I wanted something unique, but also hardy enough to travel through the mail, and the more the idea tumbled around in my mind, I realized I knew exactly what I wanted to share with others, and with you. I hope you’ll find them as irresistible as I do.

NORWEGIAN DELICACIES
(Recipe from Sue Ferris, gratefully posted here with permission)

INGREDIENTS
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup original Crisco
2 cups sugar
1 cup finely grated coconut
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
3 cups sifted flour
- - -
2 cups powdered sugar

INSTRUCTIONS
Preheat your oven to 350.
1. Mix the first seven ingredients until thoroughly combined.
2. Form into 1” balls and flatten slightly.
3. Bake at 350 until light yellow and just barely golden around the edges, about 8 to 10 minutes.
4. Allow to cool 1-2 minutes on the baking sheet, then roll in powdered sugar while warm.
5. Set on a wire rack until completely cooled.

Yield: Approximately five dozen cookies.

The Great Food Blogger Cookie Swap
If you want to play along next year, sign up for the swap.

Thank you so much to MY Secret Cookie Swappers! For the past two or three weeks, I've been sampling goodies from Alaska, New York, and Tennessee! You can read all about the delicious cookies I received here:

• Chocolate Dipped Coconut Macaroons (with milk chocolate bases!) from A Taste of Alaska


• Chocolate Crack Cookies (with amaretto-soaked cherries!) from Vaikai ir Vanile


• Cowboy Cookies from Fashioned By Grace (Happily, Jessica from Fashioned by Grace has pictures of all three of these cookies on her site!)

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I was sitting here working at my desk, minding my own business, when all of a sudden my brain said: "You need to eat marshmallows, dipped in chocolate, rolled in ground pistachios."

I don't know WHY I craved something so specific, or where this combo even came from, because I don't really ever eat marshmallows, dipped in chocolate, and then rolled in ground pistachios. In fact, I don't even really eat marshmallows dipped in chocolate. Mostly because I don't have the patience to wait for the chocolate to melt, and then to dip each individual marshmallow IN that chocolate. When I do get the urge to eat marshmallows, I've always just gone for the bag-to-hand-to-mouth method, and my brain has never complained about that before.

But when my brain speaks, I listen. Especially when I happen to have all the ingredients in my pantry. (Except I only had mini-marshmallows, not the larger version, and this is my note to self: Keep all sizes of marshmallows on hand, for future use.)

The good folks at Scharffen Berger gave me a few bars of chocolate to take home from BlogHer Food '11, so I threw a couple chunks into a microwaveable dish and it melted down so beautifully. I ground up 3 or 4 pistachios in my mortar and pestle--I'm always looking for excuses to use my mortar and pestle--and then dipped and rolled, dipped and rolled. It probably took me two minutes total to make this snack, and even less than that to eat it.

Sweet marshmallows, rolled in rich milk chocolate, and topped with salty pistachios? Yes, please!

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You know how some people give gifts because they want to give you something, even if they're not sure what you'd like, and how other people give gifts because they pay attention to the things you love and take particular pleasure in surprising you with things you never knew you needed? My husband is the latter kind of person, and that's how I came to own a Zoku.

If you live in a warm climate, or if you love ice cream / popsicles, or if you have kids, or if you are a kid at heart, you should own a Zoku. (I am not being paid to say this.) (Though I'd willingly be paid, because I love this machine.) (I guess no one is going to pay me to say it after I've already said it. Ah, well.) Zoku makes instant homemade popsicles - because the unit is frozen, it only takes about 10-15 minutes per batch - which means that nearly as soon as you have a craving, you can have instant gratification. I love instant gratification.

So the other day I was thinking about my high school cafeteria. I don't know why I was thinking about this, it's really kind of a depressing thought, but my high school cafeteria had two things going for it: (1) the Otis Spunkmeyer chocolate chip cookies they sold for 25 cents each, all fresh from the oven and melty, and which to this day rank among the top 3 cookies I've ever longed for; and (2) the ice pops they sold for 35 cents. My absolute favorite were the Double Fudge Bullets.

It was Rayah's snack time, and it was the first day this Spring that Texas weather had reached 90 degrees, and I was thinking how I could totally go for a Double Fudge Bullet right about then. I remembered that my Zoku was stuffed in the back of the freezer, unused, and had been there for weeks. I spied the bananas sitting atop our fruit bowl, and I had leftover chocolate syrup from another recipe...and my plan formed, almost unintentionally. I was going to make Chocolate Banana Popsicles, and they were going to be good. And lo, it was so.

You don't have to have a Zoku to make these ice pops, but I will go on record saying that *if you do have a Zoku, making these treats will be a lot easier.* Here's how I did it:

YOU'LL NEED:
Popsicle molds (or Zoku, frozen)
1 cup milk
1/4 cup chocolate syrup
1 banana

HOW TO PREPARE
1. Mix the milk and chocolate syrup.
NOTE: You can skip this step if you already have chocolate milk on hand. Also, I tried this recipe with both skim milk and with whole milk, and neither seemed to make a substantial difference to the popsicle's creaminess. So I'd just use whatever you have on hand.

2. Mash the banana.
NOTE: I used a mortar and pestle because I love the novelty of it, but it's a lot easier to mash the banana with a fork on the plate. If you're using a Zoku, only mash 1/2 banana at a time, so that the flesh doesn't turn brown between batches.

3. Pour chocolate milk into popsicle mold until 1/3 full. Freeze.
NOTE: Be sure to add your popsicle sticks before freezing.

4. Spoon mashed banana into popsicle mold until 2/3 full. Freeze.
NOTE: To make this easier on yourself, use either (a) two spoons: one to spoon the banana into the mold and the handle of the second to prod the banana into place around the popsicle stick; or (b) a filled decorator's bag with a tip large enough to accommodate the thick texture of mashed banana but small enough to fit between the mold and the popsicle stick. Obviously, Option B is only for Super Particular People.

5. Pour chocolate milk into your popsicle mold, until full. Freeze.

[Yields: Approximately 6 ice pops, if molds hold 1/4 cup liquid each.]

I love that I can make popsicles out of fresh ingredients! And I also love justifying it as the equivalent of "a half glass of milk and part of a banana" if I accidentally ate three in one sitting. Not that I would do that, but you know, in case it ever does happen. Ahem.

Mother made, kid approved!

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I’ve always said that I’d try any food once, which is how I’ve managed to eat things like pig intestine (gross), duck blood soup (gross) and fried chicken feet (surprisingly good). Then there are other foods that I just think are weird, like tomato-flavored Jello (why!?), and peanut butter, tomato and bacon sandwiches (in all fairness, I’ve managed to evade this so far – I like my peanut butter with fruit (plum jam, please), and my bacon with lettuce and tomato – though I’m guessing I’ll try one soon enough).

When my in-laws visited last month, Roger asked his mom to make one of his favorite childhood dishes: Avocado-Banana Salad. I wrinkled my nose at the pairing, but agreed to give it a try. Then I took a second spoonful. And now I’ve spent the past month making this salad, because neither Roger nor I can get enough.

If you’re searching for a unique side dish to serve at a holiday meal or to bring to a friend’s potluck, look no further. This dish uses only five ingredients and there’s no cooking involved, so it’s perfect if you’re short on time but want to deliver high on expectations. Avocado-Banana Salad is beyond creamy, a favorite among children and adults (in our family, anyway!), and is deliciously tangy and sweet. And maybe that’s my favorite part about this side dish – it could also pass as a dessert.

Avocado-Banana Salad

Ingredients
1 avocado, diced
1 banana, diced
1 tbsp lime juice
1 tbsp sugar
3 tbsp cream (you can also use half-and-half, or probably even milk, but I use cream)

Instructions
1. Add diced avocado and banana to a bowl.
2. Measure lime juice, sugar and cream into the bowl.
3. Mix ingredients together gently.
4. Serve immediately.

Serves 2

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I love cookbooks. I love cookbooks and I love cooking (though I hate cleaning the dishes) and I love good food. And I generally like history, as long as it is interesting. (Which, listen: history is NOT ALWAYS INTERESTING.) So when a publisher sent me a copy of the Military Wives' Cookbook, I was intrigued because it's a cookbook (score!), presumably has good food (score!) to cook (score!), and is filled with little historical anecdotes about our country's military wives. And that's all fine, it's a nice little package, but what I really needed to know was this: what about the recipes? Are they good? And the best way to answer those questions is to test a recipe out for myself.

After flipping through the book, I found a story about a bride who defied her father and married the man she loved. Which, I'm totally a sap, so it seemed like a good choice to me. What's more, she married the man she loved (a military officer) in a shotgun wedding, both bride and groom sitting atop their horses so they could make a quick escape. Which I thought was hilarious, considering this took place back in the 1800s. The story was printed along with a recipe for Quiche Lorraine - I don't know what the correlation was there: was it just a good place for the story, or did they serve that quiche afterward? - and my thoughts were suddenly consumed with BACON.

The key to frying bacon is trying not to eat all of it before you need it for the recipe. This is kind of difficult, because bacon is salty and delicious. And it's crunchy, if you're doing it right. I managed to only eat two pieces, so it's a good thing I made extra. (Okay, fine. I ate two-and-a-half pieces, which no one would ever know because you have to crumble it anyway.) Also, you can never have too much bacon.

While the bacon was sizzling, I whipped the cream (the recipe calls for half-and-half, but I generally consider recipes as guidelines, not rules) with the eggs and mustard and seasonings.

And then I took some of the onions from my mom's garden and I cooked them in the bacon grease. This is the best way to do it because BACON. MMmmmmmm. (Also, the onions cook quickly. So don't, say, realize you don't have shredded Swiss cheese, pull out the deli Swiss, and start CUTTING IT INTO STRIPS WITH KITCHEN SCISSORS. That might be kind of lame. But it will probably work. Hypothetically.) Once the onions are done, you should sprinkle them over the crumbled bacon.

It will be very pretty, and kind of remind you of Christmas. And then maybe you'll want some egg nog. Or maybe you're just pregnant.

After you've poured the cream mixture over the bacon and onions, sprinkle it with nutmeg. The nutmeg doesn't really do anything other than make it look pretty, and remind you of Christmas again. And make you want egg nog even more. So maybe you should just bake it and distract yourself with something else.

If you pair a slice of this quiche with something else, like strawberries, you'll be less tempted to eat the entire pie in one sitting. (It was also very good the next morning.) But strawberries probably won't be enough to stop you from going back for seconds. That's respectable. If you do that, it's a compliment. And, really, have you had enough compliments lately? I didn't think so.

The cookbook is organized a little differently than most, in that it's organized by menu. The menu titles are charming: "White Gloves and Hats: A Silver and Crystal Tea" or "Twelfth Night: A Williamsburg Buffet for Eight" or "A Sunday Reunion With Very Dear Friends." See what I mean? It's kind of a throwback to the days of yore, back when it was totally normal to be invited to Sunrise Coffee or Holiday Dessert Coffee or Afternoon Coffee or Breakfast Coffee -- and seriously? How many types of coffee and coffee gatherings are there? (Note to self: Good topic for coffee lovers.)

So my first recipe from this book was a success. And just for you, I've included the recipe after the jump. And I've also included my edits, because I am horrible at actually following recipes.

Continue reading "I Never Met A Quiche I Didn't Like" »

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Two weekends ago I spent my time re-creating barnyard confections, and this past weekend I spent my weekend crafting an erupting volcano surrounded by steaming lava and primitive species. That's right - my niece and nephew were born a week apart from each other, which makes for me a very busy month. (Note to self: when giving birth to my own children, steer clear of September.)

My nephew, Chase, is at an age where he likes to pick out everything himself (though, honestly, he's been at that age for quite some time). He has his favorite toys, he prefers certain activities, he chooses his own clothes. So it didn't surprise me when he wanted to discuss what type of cake he wanted for his birthday. His FIFTH birthday. We talked about monsters and whales and music, we filtered through snakes and pyramids and treasure chests. And in the end, we settled on a volcano.

A volcano surrounded by an ocean. A volcano surrounded by an ocean inhabited with sharks. A volcano surrounded by ocean inhabited with sharks, and dinosaurs prancing in the volcano's lava. For good measure. And the lava erupting from the mouth of the volcano? Well, that was just for fun.

Click on image to enlarge.

How I did it:

THE OCEAN
The oceanic base is made of an ultra-moist french vanilla cake. I drizzled semi-tinted confection-buttercream on top, for the appearance of a waterfall. It was the easiest part of the cake.

THE VOLCANO
The volcano was created from my go-to chocolate cake, a recipe that requires things like powdered pudding mix AND Ghiradelli chocolate chips, and this cake is divine on its own. It is moist and rich, but not too dense, and it's impossible to eat only one piece. (I know, I've tried. I fail every time.) The volcano is made of three layers: the base (an eight-inch bundt), the middle section (a 5-inch cake) and a cupcake (2.5-inches in diameter). I drizzled a milk-chocolate buttercream over the volcano, careful to cover it fully without pooling it too far into the ocean. And then, after all of that, I added crushed Oreo cookies to give the cake the dimension of dirt.

THE LAVA
I whipped up red- and orange-tinted confection buttercream icing for the lava spilling down the sides of the volcano, which I drizzled in thin ribbons with a knife. The day before, I had melted orange and cherry lifesavers over medium-low heat and spooned them onto foil in haphazard formations. (This can be done up to one week ahead and stored in an airtight container. Note: they break easily, so make a lot of them.) After randomly inserting the hard-candy lava around the crest of the volcano, I sprinkled the volcano center with shimmering, edible red glitter.

Click on image to enlarge.

We placed the sharks and dinosaurs on the cake, et voila! Finished! If we could have done anything differently, I would have waited until we arrived at our destination to insert the hard candy lava. By the time we got to the party, the lava shooting out of the cake had fallen waywardly in some places, and was a bit sunken in others. Still, the kids loved it. (So did the parents, though I refused to admit exactly how much sugar and butter their children were ingesting. I mean, isn't that what birthday parties are for?)

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One of my favorite things about being an aunt - perhaps even my right of passage - is that I can spoil my niece and nephew and then give them back to their respective parents. And that is why this weekend was so much fun. It was my niece's second birthday, which meant that in the two days leading up to her party, I was in my kitchen baking and baking and baking, and then whipping and whipping and whipping, and then mixing icing colors until they were just so. I love baking birthday cakes for my family and friends, but not quite so much as I love their reactions when they see the sweets.

Annabel's birthday party was barnyard themed - totally appropriate since my brother and sister-in-law live in the country - complete with tractors, hay bales, barbeque, the classic pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, red handkerchiefs and farm animal-iced sugar cookies. Taking it a step further, Roger and I made (not one, but two) themed cakes to feed the crowd.

The first cake, a piglet, was crafted from a homemade vanilla wedding cake with swiss buttercream icing and filling.

Click on image to enlarge.

Both cakes were built on a double-layer filled base with a six-inch domed cake for the head. The pig's snout and feet are each one cupcake, and the ears are one-half cupcake each. The tail is made from a strawberry licorice pinwheel (the rest of which I devoured). Grapefruit candies gave the ears a little more dimension (sadly, I didn't sample these). The eyes were made from blackberry candies (one of my husband's favorite candies, I wonder who picked out those?), with banana-shaped hot pink eyelashes. (Runts candies, which tasted like banana even though they were pink. Which was sort of weird to me, but I'm not sure what I was expecting. Maybe strawberry-banana?) The nostrils were Reese's Pieces (chocolate + peanut butter = yum) and the hooves were chocolate-covered mini Oreos (I think I officially got off my diet after all the "sampling" I did while making these cakes).

The second cake, a lamb, I made from a not-overly-chocolatey chocolate buttermilk cake and chocolate-overdose buttercream icing (which, together, were a perfectly balanced combination, though I think the marshmallows and chocolate chips really took the cake over the top).

Click on image to enlarge.

The sheep was relatively easy just because it didn't matter what the icing looked like since it would all be covered. I smoothed the chocolate-overdose buttercream icing across each layer, then Roger and I set to work applying marshmallow after marshmallow after marshmallow, OMG am I still putting marshmallows on this thing? Yes, yes I was. We took great care to place the marshmallows haphazardly - some standing on end, some horizontal, some vertical - to give it the effect of fluffy wool. The face, ears and feet were covered in chocolate chips. The face was created from blackberry candied eyes and a nonpareil nose. The hooves were chocolate-covered mini Oreos, just like the pig cake.

Both farm-themed cakes were a hit. Roger asked guests whether they would like mutton or pork, and I countered with dark meat or white meat. Get it? A little black sheep and the other white meat?

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Roger and I usually don’t make a big fuss about Valentine’s Day. We keep it low-key with dinner at home, something a little nicer than we generally eat, and we just spend time together. I love it so much more than going out to eat or to some sort of performance, or whatever it is that other people do on Valentine’s Day, because in general I think the holiday is just too commercialized. There’s too much pressure on guys to do something special for that one day, which I think is lame. Guys should do something special because they want to, not because they feel obligated by society. And since Roger does special things for me so frequently throughout the year, Valentine’s Day is really just like any other day. Except with more dishes for me to wash.

During lunch on February 14th, I got a wild hair and decided to make chocolate-covered strawberries. Blame that ad I saw in AmericanWay magazine, if you’d like. Here’s how I did it:

I dropped off some of the chocolate-covered berries at Roger’s office for a sweet after-lunch surprise, and took the remaining strawberries to share with my co-workers.

They’re best to eat the day they’re made. This isn’t usually a problem, since the strawberries don’t last long.

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Last night Roger and I hosted our Fourth Annual New Year’s Eve Dinner Party. We started at 8:30 p.m., but should have begun so, so, so much earlier. Enough time with good friends is never enough.

We ate. (Menu for the evening: Chicken Saltimbocca, Warm Spinach Salad with Pine Nuts & Prosciutto, and Green Beans with Lemon-Ginger Butter. Dessert: Caramel Toffee Crunch Cheesecake and Chocolate-covered Oreo Truffles. My thighs are only slightly larger than yesterday, but that’s what we have New Year’s Resolutions for, right?)

We drank. (Roger made me a killer Cosmo. I tried to re-create it again for myself, from the same recipe, and it was a disaster. A vodka disaster. So I kept adding cranberry juice, to no avail. And that’s when I started pouring cherry juice into it. It wasn’t bad after the cherry juice -- of course, almost nothing can be bad after adding cherry juice -- but then again I don’t think it was a Cosmo after that, either.)

We were merry. (For Christmas, Roger gave me a digital camcorder. If only I could figure out how to upload and edit videos, you could be merry with us. The laughter, the cigars, the food, the games (a new fave: Loaded Questions). I hope your New Year’s Eve celebration was every bit as lively and fun as ours.)

And to you, a toast to you, Internet (with the cherry-infused Cosmo that I made myself, rimmed in yellow and red sugars):

May this new year bring you closer to those you love; may this new year give you all of the good things and only enough of the rest to remind you how good things really are.

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My in-laws arrive today from South Carolina, which means that for the past several days I've been in a list-making frenzy.

I've made chore lists (clean, clean and clean, because we're turning our study – remember all the boxes? – into a proper bedroom). And I've made grocery lists ($141 later, I think I can feed an army. Albeit a very small one. Maybe just a platoon.).

Caddo Lake

I've made activity lists (including picnicking at and paddling around Caddo Lake). And after planning meals, I'm fairly certain I'll need an elastic waistband after this weekend. I'm most excited about the meals and have appropriately hung the final list on our refrigerator. I'm a little obsessed with good food and excited that their entire stay with us is going to be a culinary delight. To wit:

We're planning on tender, juicy steaks that will melt like butter in our mouths, spicy Tex-Mex, because there's no better place than Texas to get good Mexican food (except maybe Mexico itself), Roger will be barbequing ribs that are robust and tangy and fall off the bone, but still have little crisps around the edges (we got the recipe from my brother-in-law, and believe me: they're well worth the hour-long wait), and then there's my most recent cuisine infatuation, Indian. I've sacrificially sampled three new Indian restaurants in the past couple of weeks, just to be sure of our selection. Granted, there are dozens more to try, but I figure they can wait until next month. (Good news: next month begins in only four days.)

All this to say, we have a very full weekend ahead. One that I hope will not involve the tipping of canoes. (I'm looking at you, Dad.)

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Some of my favorite childhood memories involve baking goodies with my mom, or decorating tins upon tins of Christmas cookies with my grandmother. It's no wonder that I've turned out to be the sort of cook that I am: the sort of cook that rarely bothers to measure ingredients, the sort of cook who'd rather wing it and pray for the best. I watched as they whipped up silky batches of mashed potatoes and juicy, fall-off-the-bone roasts and perfectly salted homemade popcorn, the kind made in the iron skillet that burst from under the lid as it grew more and more fluffy, begging to be released into the giant wooden bowl for our consumption.

For the past few years I have been making birthday cakes for my family and friends, a tradition passed down to me by my mom. I've taken it a step further, incorporating candies for texture and dimension and dominating the icing, bending it to my will.

Both my niece and my nephew celebrated birthdays over the past two weekends, and I commemorated their special days with special cakes of their own.

My mom with Annabel

Annabel, my niece, turned one. Her motor skills aren't exactly fine-tuned yet, so I thought cupcakes should be the order of the day. That way she could eat her cake – face first or fingers first, it didn't matter – and we could, too.

Each cake was double the width of a traditional cupcake
(Click to enlarge)

I made butterflies, dragonflies, bumblebees and ladybugs. I used icing for decoration, sour straws for texture, M&Ms candies for the ladybug dots, licorice rope for the antennae, jumbo sprinkles for the eyeballs, edible glitter for a little shimmer and giant sugar crystals just because I could. Who doesn't love giant sugar crystals?

CLICK THUMBNAILS FOR LARGER IMAGES

Bumblebee


Butterfly


Dragonfly


Ladybug

Chase, my nephew, turned four. For the entire month leading up to his birthday, all he could talk about was a shark cake.

Chase, The Birthday Boy

I scoured the Internet and didn't turn up much, so I created the shark myself. Or, I should say Roger helped me create it, since he drew up the blue prints for the shark. Something about being a guy and watching too much of the Discovery channel made our shark a little fearsome.

Snaggly-toothed shark
(Click to enlarge)

For the shark, I decided to make two separate cakes: a white cake for the ocean, a red velvet cake for the shark's body. That way, when you cut into the shark, it would look like blood. And if there's anything a four-year-old boy wants to see, it's blood.

Bloody!
(Click to enlarge)

I made the red velvet cake in a loaf pan, so that we could carve it into the shape of a shark. I used the white tips of candy corns for its teeth, and smoothed icing over its body for a sleek look. Roger cut a licorice wheel into the shape of a fin, which we connected to a toothpick and then covered in icing before attaching to the shark's body.

Leaping out of the water
(Click to enlarge)

All the cakes took a loooong time to make, but it was so worth it to see the reaction of the guests at each party when they stole their first glance at dessert. It was so worth it to watch Annabel grab her dragonfly by the handful and squeal in delight when her fingers pressed through the mushy icing. It was so worth it to see Chase's eyes light up and turn to me in wonder when the first cut was made into the shark's body.

These are new memories in the making, not only for the younger generation of my family, but for me as well.

Comments and questions regarding these cakes and others can be directed to jes(AT)chirky(DOT)com.

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This weekend I finally worked up the nerve to tell my best friend about two of my recent food finds. I was kind of nervous about it, like confessing them would suddenly mean that grocery stores everywhere would have empty shelves whenever I visited.

I imagined driving from store to store, calling locations in other cities in a lame attempt to get my hands on the products before finally calling the manufacturer and asking if any boxes were left in the warehouse. And when the manufacturer offered a sympathy coupon, I'd take it but never use it, in an odd sort of protest. I feel kind of bad about how possessive I am, and thought that if I present my grocery store food finds on a grander scale, maybe I can cure myself of this sickness. [Though, so help me God: if stores everywhere start running out of these products, I'm blaming you, Internet.]

Sugar Free Popsicles. At 15 calories each, they make the perfect snack. This works well if you're like me and you discover that your snack includes no less than 10 popsicles in one sitting, because even then it's only 150 calories, which equals roughly 10% of a pint of Ben & Jerry's. It's totally justifiable. The grape-orange combo is the best, exactly in that order. I always let the Popsicles thaw a little before inhaling them, which works well when you're eating several in succession. That way one Popsicle can be thawing while the other is being consumed.

Vanilla Scones. Since it's a fact of life that you overspend when you go to Target anyway, do yourself a favor and throw a box of Archer Farms (Target brand) vanilla scone mix in your basket. (Also needed: whipping cream.) Next time you need a fancy-but-easy breakfast, follow the instructions on the side of the box to make the scones. Add extra vanilla (pure Mexican vanilla is best), approximately 2 tablespoons. Just before baking, sprinkle sugar on triangles of dough. [Confession: I almost did it again. I wasn't going to tell you to use the extra-large sugar crystals, because it totally makes the scones gourmet and I wanted to have that title all to myself. Gah. I think I may be incurable after all.] Whip remaining cream (adding sugar to taste) and serve with sliced strawberries. Everyone will think you are a baking god(dess).

This list will likely continue to grow, but I'm curious to know what YOUR favorite grocery store food finds are.

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When I was in seventh grade, my mom brought home a jar of capers from the market. I had never heard of capers, which look like pickled peas – and ironically, they are pickled, but they're not peas. Capers are tiny flower buds from a caper shrub (either pickled in vinegar or brined in salt), and when you think of it that way, don't the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? My mom always taught me not to eat berries off of bushes, LEST I DIE – and as I rotated the jar in my hands I realized why she had purchased them.

Attached to the jar was a small fluorescent sticker that advertised the product for only seventy-five cents.

I can see myself now: hand on hip, hip cocked out to the side, impossibly frizzy hair. I laughed, teased my mom, and then asked her what she would cook using the capers. She didn't know, she said, which only instigated more teasing.

For that, I would like to apologize, Mom. I finally understand the joy you take in grocery shopping, and even more so, I identify with the exhilaration you feel when you find items not only on sale, BUT ON CLEARANCE.

I understand this because the genes I inherited from you have matured, and I am the same. I am you, and it is not my worst nightmare, like my twelve-year-old mind used to believe it would be. It is a privilege that I'm like you. And one day, I am sure my own children will release high-pitched giggles and tease me incessantly when I purchase a container of corn smut, or whatever new food I find at the store and decide to bring home.

Since then, my mom has always kept a jar of capers in her pantry. Maybe it is a reminder to herself to always be on the lookout for new, exotic foods to try. Perhaps it serves as a reminder of my brother and I. Or maybe she's still trying to convince me that she actually cooks with capers. (Maybe I'll just stop speculating and call her to ask.)

Jes: "Mom, do you remember the time you bought those capers?"
Mom: "What? No. What are you talking about?"
Jes: (exasperated) "Mom. You can't not remember."
Mom: "…"
Jes: "Mom!! I've teased you about that for the past fifteen years! How can you not remember?"
Mom: (playfully) "Maybe the teasing was so painful I blocked it from my memory."
Jes: "Whatever."
[Refresh her memory. Laugh.]
"Mom, why do you keep buying capers?"
Mom: "I keep thinking I'll figure out something to do with them."
Jes: (clickety-clack, clickety-clack)
Mom: "Are you typing? Jessica Lynne…"

I've eaten capers in several dishes, all prepared by an executive chef and not by my mother, and lo: they were good. So, for my mom, who taught me to love all types of food from every different culture, I give you this recipe: Buca di Beppo's Chicken Saltimbocca, quite possibly the best dish on the restaurant's menu. (And finally, a recipe that involves capers!)

About: THIS DISH
The word "saltimbocca" means "jump into the mouth." This recipe is aptly named, because this delicious dish (pounded with Prosciutto and massaged with sage) seems to fly from your plate to your mouth.

About: CAPERS
The flavor of capers is piquant and lemony. Capers add pungency to Mediterranean dishes like pasta sauces, pizza, fish, meats and salads. They go well with olives, arugula, anchovies and artichokes.

CHICKEN SALTIMBOCCA

INGREDIENTS
4 (5 ounce) chicken breasts
4 thin slices Prosciutto ham
1 tablespoon fresh sage
3 ounces (1/4 c. + 2 Tbsp.) olive oil
1 ounce (2 Tbsp.) all-purpose flour
5 ounces (2/3 c.) artichoke hearts, quartered
1/2 ounce (1 Tbsp.) capers
4 ounces (1/2 c.) white wine
2 ounces (1/4 c.) fresh lemon juice
2 ounces (1/4 c.) heavy cream
1 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon salt

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Lightly salt chicken breasts.
2. Sprinkle chicken breasts evenly with chopped sage.
3. Place sliced Prosciutto on top the chicken and pound it into the breast until the thickness of the chicken measures approximately 3/8-inch.
4. Heat olive oil in a saute pan.
5. Lightly flour chicken pressed with prosciutto.
6. Place chicken in heated oil, Prosciutto side down.
7. Brown one side, turn and brown the other side.
8. Drain off excess oil, and deglaze with 4 ounces of white wine.
9. Add artichokes, fresh lemon juice, cream and butter and cook until sauce is thickened.

On a large platter, place chicken breasts topped with sauce and garnish with capers.

Serves: 4

Source: Chef Vittorio Renda, Buca di Beppo

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Tomorrow morning, for the third year in a row, I am cooking the turkey for Thanksgiving. Doing this each year reinforces the fact that I Am An Adult Now, an adult who should not try to take a nap while my mom washes the dishes. She tries to help reinforce that fact wherever she can, sometimes in the form of pots banging together above my head.

Anyone want to come over for Thanksgiving? I dare you to take a nap.

My mom is practically a goddess in the kitchen. I grew up not with a few favorite dishes, but with an arsenal of cuisines and meals my mom had created over the years. I am so thankful that she introduced me to so many different types of foods, because it helped me become the woman I am today: one who eagerly eats chicken feet (with talons!). That said, I am not a picky eater. I maintain that I will always try anything once, including pig intestines, particularly if I don't know what I am eating before it goes into my mouth.

The first year I made the Thanksgiving turkey, I was somewhat nervous. My mom had only requested that I bake a small turkey, about 8 pounds. Meanwhile, she made an enormous honey-baked ham to use as back-up in case my turkey tasted like an overcooked piece of tar. You know the meat I'm talking about: the kind that you chew and immediately wish you hadn't put in your mouth? The kind that you regret putting on your plate because how will you get it off without eating it and without your host noticing that you couldn't swallow one more foul (fowl? Ha!) mouthful?

When I arrived at my mother's home that morning, she was delightfully surprised that the turkey was golden brown rather than charred black. It smelled perfectly edible, and when she cut into it juices ran down the back of the small bird's body. By the end of the day, guests were picking the meat off the bones and commenting on how delicious it was, how perfectly moist it was, how in their 76 years of life they had not eaten a turkey as good as that one.

I shot my mom a smug look and a raised eyebrow, the look that I've trademarked over the years, and she beamed with pride. Her daughter could cook. And when I told her the recipe came from a local radio DJ, she didn't believe me.

The next year I used the same recipe to roast a 17 pound turkey, and the turkey turned out equally well. This year, I am making a 22 pound turkey. TWENTY TWO POUNDS. That's, like, the weight of my nephew.

I'm all about minimal work, fool-proof recipes, and impressing people. And this recipe for our annual Thanksgiving turkey (courtesy of the Kidd Kraddick in the Morning radio show) has it all. Whether you're looking to showcase your mad cooking skillz while entertaining a house full of guests or you just want your mother-in-law to adore you, read on for the recipe. But chef beware: keep a large supply of pillows on-hand. That tryptophan will seduce turkey eaters into slumber every time.

Continue reading "Thanksgiving Turkey" »

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Every year for Thanksgiving, my employer hosts a luncheon for the legal department and caters turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and corn. Our group supplies the rest: side dishes (carrots, green beans, yams, salads, etc.), desserts (chocolate, pecan pie, cheesecake, pumpkin pie, apple pie, etc.), drinks (soda, tea, etc.), bread (dinner rolls, cornbread, specialty breads, etc.).

The first year I signed up for it, I arrived a little late on the scene and all the normal vegetable side dishes were already taken, but there was still one remaining slot for a vegetable. The dessert openings had already been snatched up, and I was unwilling to bring something like a single tub of Cool Whip, mainly because the males in our group should be responsible for bringing that since they don't cook.

I am also an attention whore and love showcasing my ability to cook. When you've got the talent, it's important to flaunt it appropriately. In my case, "appropriately" is defined as: every opportunity. (Thus, the new cooking website, yet to launched.)

After staring at the list of vegetable dishes, I came up with a mental list of veggies not represented: zucchini, mushrooms, bok choy. Not great choices for Thanksgiving, save the mushrooms – but what could I do with those?

I made stuffed mushrooms, which were a hit with the crowd and have since been a tradition at work. Plus, they're pretty. And easy. And I'm all about no-fuss food.

Want to make them for your next party? Keep reading.

Continue reading "Stuffed" »

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I feel like there is something that I was supposed to do today – what was it?

Oh, yes. That's it. I'm choosing a winner for the cooking tip contest. There were so many great entries – I almost feel that it would be an injustice to pick just one. Whoever made up the rules for this game, anyway?

Continue reading "Good for those who haven't figured out how to elegantly dice tomatoes yet" »

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I think Roger has begun eating grapenuts cereal just to spite me. He went to the store, found the healthiest cereal possible, and eats a bowl whenever I eat ice cream.

I thought a good solution to the problem would be just to sprinkle a few grapenuts on my slow-churned chocolate ice cream with fudge sauce.

The grapenuts were so crunchy they nearly chipped a tooth, but weren't alltogether horrible when paired with my dessert.

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I am a gourmand.

There. I said it. I love food. I love cooking. I love chocolate and chicken and chives, though perhaps not mixed together.

I often find myself daydreaming of hosting my own daytime television show on the FoodTV network, of driving with Rachel Ray in a Chrysler convertible on our way to find the next best place to film $40 a Day, of sampling foods and discussing what spices have been added to produce such a unique flavor.

Simply put, I love to cook.

With the holidays quickly approaching I thought it might be appropriate to unveil a new section of this site for the food lover in each of us. Each week I'll be highlighting my favorite recipes and foods from around the world and in my kitchen. You can use the "Search" feature in the side bar or check out the Gourmand category (also: a Gourmand section coming to a Side Bar near you soon!).

I recently found a list of Unusual Kitchen Tips. The list was so intriguing to me that I feel obligated to share it. I'm also curious whether you are holding a well-kept kitchen secret, and if so, the Internets must know what your secret is. (* * * CONTEST ALERT * * *)

Continue reading "For the Foodie in Each of Us (and even those that just need a little extra help in the kitchen)" »

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