Cookbook find

At a used bookstore I promise I'll take Heather to next time she's here, I found a real treasure. The American Woman's Cook Book with a green frosted vinyl style cover, published in 1940. Eight hundred and fifteen pages of advice and recipes, with labeled thumb indents for each section.

As much as I'd love to, I won't quote from it extensively because you can download it yourself, kitschy pictures and all.


On the sticks: we won't even talk about it, since these sticks haven't clicked in some time.

In the glass: water as an antidote for the Brewer's Fest we were at yesterday. There is a chocolate vanilla beer from Montreal that I am going to hunt down next time we're there. Thick, rich, cold heaven in a glass.

Under the needle: Using up ribbon and scrap fabric for lanyards for our various sets of keys. I feel like I'm at summer camp, but they stitch up quickly and the colors are loud enough it should take real effort to misplace them. Or so I hope.

Pie update: Successfully made my mother's apple sheet pie for a big 4th of July celebration. A little bit of crushed cereal sprinkled on the bottom crust soaks up the juice nicely, and the pieces can be picked up in your hand for easy eating. Pie Fest 2008 planning is in the works! A friend I've known for more than half my life, is moving to Portland, OR at the end of the summer. We'll be having a pieluck dinner in his honor.

Holiday baking stress

When I talked to my mother last week, something possessed me to volunteer to make everything but the ham for Easter dinner. We're not really a get-dressed-to-go-to-church bunch, and Dad's a chocoholic, so the holiday is pretty much about food and springtime in our family. So... spring eats would be things like asparagus, mom's lemon meringue pie and sweet, fluffy rolls like my grandmother always makes. And bacon. My aunt swears that there is very little that can't be improved by the addition of bacon.

Please note that I named other people in relation to some of the food choices. That's because these are items I have never made. I've never had to, mom and/or her mother always has. My mother is gluten-free, so that makes baking interesting at times. It generally means two pies (one with gluten free crust, which has it's own special challenges). I was confident I could juggle all of this noooo problem. Which isn't untrue... I can generally pull off family catering, but the no problem part should never be an assumption. I do it to myself every time, despite the "Abort Mission" faces my Better Half makes when he hears me rattle off menu selections and available time frame. "Don't worry" I say "it will be fine". It usually is... often with his help.

I had pie dough in the fridge leftover from a pie fit a few days earlier, and figured I could just use it for my lemon meringue. This is the point where I found out that pie dough really needs to be used the next day (not the day after the next day), and that I was completely unprepared for the rigors of pre-baking the shell. Don't laugh, it stressed me out! When I saw my first attempt, I shuddered... butter should never be applied towards something so nasty. Frankencrust met trash can in a matter of seconds. I bought a "pie chain" recently, for exactly this kind of thing, to keep the bottom crust from bubbling up. Wasted my money... not big enough, not heavy enough, and the sides slid down like a pair of queen sized pantyhose on a toddler. I now know that a pie plate full of good ol' dried beans would have been fine. Steve helped me mix up fresh dough, and I used that lame pie chain and another pie plate to force the crust to keep its shape, and it worked. Lemon filling from scratch... no problem. Meringue? Completely intimidating. I broiled it just before we left the house, and to my great relief, it was lovely. A nice high mound of fluffy sugar. We packed it carefully, and it was transported without event. Only to find out, when we pulled it out for dessert that meringue shrinks. A lot. I even piled it right to the crust, hoping to anchor it a bit. My mother tried to console me by admitting that she always has that problem no matter what she does. But the image of beautiful meringue skating around the lemon filling committed me to some research on this subject (anyone have any tricks?).

Rolls. One of those things that seem easy to make until you actually think about how much time it takes to let things rise. I didn't realize what a family tradition dinner rolls were for me until I found myself stressing out about whether or not these would be able to meet the expectation of our collective tastebuds, conditioned after years to Gram's parker house rolls. Thanks go to my other grandmother for the gift of her bread machine! On the dough setting it kneaded the rolls for me, and the recipe I used gave me very simple shaping instructions. A relief to my ugly-crust traumatized brain. They turned out quite well actually. Not the same of course, but I will definitely make them again.

Very rarely am I worried about trying new recipes. I usually dive right in, and grumble about the results later. But this time, it felt like I had the ghosts of the bakers in my life peeking over my shoulder. Worse, they were joined by the ghosts of those accustomed to eating their baking! I'm pretty conscious about family tradition, particularly when it comes to food, so I was a little surprised to discover this anxiety in myself. It really was fine, and the bacon in the scalloped potatoes was heavenly... and I just may have finally learned not to be such a smarty pants about my baking.

Weird Pie the First

It could have been a disaster to blog about, but it wasn't. I made an Avocado Pie last week. Think key lime but creamier. Crumb crust (store bought, not Heather's homemade yummy crumb crust), sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, egg yolks, lime juice and a mashed avocado. The recipe called for lemon juice, but never one to follow any instructions to a T... I'll try the lemon next time, as the lime dominated the pie and I'm not sure that was the intent. Once out of the oven, I poured on the sweetened sour cream topping and chilled it. It was pretty good! There was a bit of greeny avocado flavor and the creaminess of the fruit held through baking. The sour cream top was a nice contrast. It was a pretty pie, the avocado baked to a nice light green color - the same green people seem to want key lime to be, and I sprinkled lime zest on the white top.

The recipe came from a book called Blue Ribbon Pies, which takes recipes from state, county and local fairs. Most recipes are quite simple, with few ingredients. I may have to try the Southern Buttermilk Lemon Pie, or the Zucchini Pie next. The latter promises to taste like apple crisp!

Stuff I came home with

Although we did spend time poking around shops, and we did come home from London with our extra bags full, we didn't spend an incredible amount of money on souvenirs. With the conversion rate at about .51 US dollars to 1.00 British pounds, we were "selective".

At Covent Garden Market, we stopped at Pollock's Toy Shop and Museum. It was packed from ceiling to floor with all kinds of lovely paper toys and Punch 'n Judy sets. We purchased a few pocket sized things. The deck of cards pictured at right are 1"x2" each and can be combined in endless permutations. On each card (which connects neatly at the edges with every other card), a road runs along the seaside, punctuated by knights, farmers, castles, and craggy islands. The five year old in me finds this fascinating, and imagines no end of stories inspired by the scene that unfolds. They remind me of bedtimes when Dad made up stories for me about favorite book characters because the books themselves had been exhausted. We also picked up a few paper scenes from this shop - a miniature farm and a small Victorian neighborhood (which I can't locate, so perhaps I only think we bought it).

Books are not only heavy, but crazy expensive. So while I was sorely tempted many times, I brought home only two books. The first was from the British Museum. So clever of them to put signs in their Japanese exhibit, letting me know what was available in the museum shop! It worked, and on our way out, I picked up A Japanese Menagerie by Kawanabe Kyosai. The anthropomorphism is delightful, and I'm both impressed by the simple grace with which the animals are portrayed, and forced to laugh out loud at their antics. The cover art is part of a painting entitled "Frog School" and in the book itself, among the bats, mice, birds and cats, is picture of a frog rickshaw that I love. Kyosai manipulates the bow legged stance and froggy grimace very cleverly.

Did I say two books? I meant three. Funny, how they multiply when you're not looking. Two cookbooks followed me home. Both were found at discount bookstores, to the relief of my wallet. Our first meal "out" in London was at a noodle chain called Wagamama's. After a cold wander along the Thames, we had a fantastic hot lunch there. The noodles and other ingredients are fresher than fresh, and can be ordered in soups, grilled, with sauce... you name it. When I saw the cookbook for cheap, I snatched it up.

It's not hard to guess that the second book was about pie. When I saw the cover, I chuckled to myself. Tarts with Tops On was just too delicious in name and content to leave behind. My sense of humor was seconded by the bookseller who said lightly "And if you turn the book upside down they'd be tarts with NO tops, now wouldn't they?". The author, Tamasin Day-Lewis, writes her lists of ingredients much like I cook, with "generous handfuls" of things, "yesterday's gravy" and recommendations that "your butcher will do this for you if you ask nicely" and that a particular brand of dry cider "is a killer". I can't wait to try the recipe for Apple Hat and Forfar Bridies.

Portobello Road was good for a shoulder bag and a pair of earrings (which I purchased twice, since I was brilliant enough to lose one of the first pair within a day). I came away from Camden Locks with a small black leather pig with two buttons for nostrils. He is quintessential Camden - punk/goth style and slightly off the wall. Borough Market yielded lovely foodstuffs, much of which I couldn't possibly get back to the states in one piece. I'll post more about that particular visit later, because it's food and I could go on and on about it. I did find yarn... can't remember where now, but we were in a courtyard with some lovely vintage shops. I saw diner style china on the shelves that was exactly the pattern my mother has at camp! (That kind of thing happened much more often than expected.) Sadly, I left behind a red tea set with white polka dots and some electrically pastel and tinselly vintage christmas decorations, for the best probably.

Greetings from the Land of Pie!

A quick post, since my friend Alex has just removed pork and sausage pasties from the oven. Which means dinner is imminent. The grocery here is packed with a variety of pie beyond my wildest imaginings. Bite size, hand sized, full sized with anything from fruit or custard to meats. You name it, the Brits have put it in a pie. They're best with hot mashed (potatoes) and a interestingly named beer... like Bishop's Finger, Fursty Ferret, Bishop's Tipple (bishops here, so straight laced and of fine reputations), Old Peculiar, Spitfire and Snecklifter. We're not drinking them all at once, of course, but it's fun to pull one out of the fridge and ask a pal if they'd like a bit of Spitfire. Bishop's Finger has been the best for crude jokes, besides being a good beer.

Time for supper, and a chance to watch our slideshow of photos for the day, so I'll sign off. Cheers!

Pie... it's a genetic predisposition

Spent the afternoon in the old hometown today, drinking coffee and wandering from bookstore to bookstore. I did not find another pie cookbook, but I did have dinner with my parents. After-dinner ramblings usually take an interesting turn at my folk's place (embarrassing family stories and all that). This time, inspired by my upcoming trip to England, Dad pulled out my grandfather's genealogy notebooks and... it is highly probably that I am a direct descendant of the "Sargent of the Pastry" to Queen Elizabeth I. That doesn't mean he could make pie himself, but it does mean that one year, in the traditional stack of gifts to the Queen for the New Year, was a gilded quince pie from my family. My fascination for Elizabeth I is equal to my fascination with pie, so this was fantastic news, and I had to blog about it.

Good, Big Doings

On a rain and sun speckled day this weekend, in the old granite quarried hills of central Vermont, my brother married his best friend. We were under a heated tent canopy, and young white birches, grapevine, and mums made that space feel like the woods in early fall. Bright paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. Into their vows, my brother wove home, family, friendship, deep love and respect. It was a brief, but very moving ceremony.

Our family has increased exponentially. Not only is my brother a parent of a 5 and 8 year old now, but he has three brothers-in-law. And another set of parents. All of whom I enjoyed immensely this weekend. With our extended family and friends, we laughed and celebrated as long as we could stand it, and on Sunday, dragged ourselves home completely exhausted. A good day - right up there on my list of best days ever.

I sat on our porch at home late that afternoon, and tried to puzzle out the wedding jitters i seemed to have had all weekend. I adore my sister-in-law. She's fantastic. My brother is happy. They glow. So why was I so emotional and jumpy?

The Better Half came and sat with me in the sun, let me read some E.B. White essays to him. A very comforting sort, White. He is the author of "Stuart Little" and my all time favorite "Charlotte's Web". His essays are timeless and so down to earth. A bit of White and my brain began to make some sense of things again.

Of the three siblings in my family, I'm the oldest by four years. By the time my brother came along, I was ready for someone to boss around. And boy, did I. He was so good natured about it... which changed eventually, of course. He was such a sunny, affectionate little person. A dreamer and a doer. Always busy at one or the other, sometimes both at the same time. He's been through a lot. Relationships, Iraq, life in general. I admit to hovering sometimes, to offering my opinion when I think I'm entitled to do so. I fret over his emotional health, his self esteem, his happiness. But lately, I haven't been fretting. Not really at all. And I'm a natural fretter. New worries go into my brain as if it were a rock tumbler. A little tossing about with some grains of sand, and I've worn away all the sharp edges. I experience their new texture like some kind of zen meditation. It's how I adjust, prioritize, make sense of things. I haven't been pulling my brother's worry stones out at all lately. He's happy, he has people (and one sweet dog with a penchant for running away) to go home to every night, and to wake up to each morning. He feels loved and cared for.

As a pseudo-parent, this fretless view of my brother was a big adjustment for me. Oh sure, there's interesting stuff on the road ahead, but for a change, he is equipped with excellent traveling companions. You dream of all sorts of wonderful things for the people you love - and sometimes it feels like being a grown up means accepting that they may never actually happen, no matter how hard you wish. But I got this one, this wish and it's pretty amazing. No wonder I was all emotional. With this Very Good Thing that has happened between my brother and my sister-in-law, and the children, life has given me a big, fat thumbs up.

P.S.
I am a firm believer in family=pie. So, of course quiche was present at the post-wedding brunch for family. Family agreed, and both quiches disappeared. I attribute that not so much to my baking skills, but more to the fact that a buttery crust and bacon (yay fat content!) are an easy sell.

More PIE please

My new PIE cookbook, which I've posted about, still has not left my living room, where it resides as deliciously fascinating reading material. This has got to be the summer of pie... not only did I get to have Heather's key lime (with the best crumb crust I've ever had), but I bought that cookbook, read a history book on the American kitchen, and just saw a pie oriented movie.

I've been reading Something from the Oven: Reinventing Dinner in 1950s America. If you grocery shop, if you have ever eaten home cooking, been a home cook, hate to cook, regularly visit a grocery store, or ever watched Julia Child on television, you'll want to read bits of this book out loud to everyone around you. Okay, I wanted to, maybe you're more polite than that. For example, lima bean sticks. Gross yes, but intriguing right? The author's style is amazingly readable and conversational, taking you directly into America's kitchens - often on the back of the food marketing industry or cooking personalities. You get a sense of the women themselves in their earnest and direct letters to magazines and newspapers. It will change the way you see food marketing (for a whole week, I felt like the products in the grocery store needed to just pipe down). It may give you hope in this nation of fast food. It will cause you to fondly recall the remnants of a 50's kitchen as they existed (or exist) in your own life. I was heartened to read that cakes and pies at the time fell under the realm of personal touch, not appropriate for box mix conversion. I am not a cake baker, but the thump of a rolling pin on a wooden board soothes my soul, and a pie never fails to impress (even if you bought the crust!).

No sooner did I finish this book, than a coworker recommended the movie Waitress. It is not a cute little movie - it's a damn good story instead, with just the right sweet and tart sentiments. The pies are wild, the characters are sometimes wilder, and none of it is predictable in the usual sugary way of romances. The women are strong and independent, life is unfair, and being a baking whiz in the kitchen does not mean you are the mother of all mankind. Just a great movie - two days later, I'm still playing it over in my head.

While we were at the movie, Alex call and left a message that was along the lines of "come and get the rhubarb from my garden right now!". And rhubarb really only has two uses - mixed w/ sweeter fruit for a pie, or blended into sauce to pour over vanilla ice cream.

Mmm, summer of pie...

Pee Eye Ee

I bought another cookbook. Various and sundry social plans had been scrubbed by one thing or another during the week, and I was feeling sorry for myself. In an attempt to offset grouchiness, we traipsed downtown for maple beers (one sign of spring around here, even if nothing else seems in synch), a good burger and a stop at the bookstore.

We wandered, not so aimlessly... magazines, fiction, stuff on sale, craft inspiring reads... ah, cookbooks. If I close my eyes in that aisle, and take a deep breath, I can almost smell the test kitchens. Just like (most of) the food that they help bring into being, cookbooks soothe my soul. This one said PIE in big letters on it's big, fat, thick spine. I like to eat pie, but I also really like to make pie. Bless you Ken Haedrich, for this book. I will spend as much time reading it as I will trying out the recipes. So many recipes! Presented in a way that makes the art of pie accessible to anyone with a hankering to make one.

Mmm. Pie...