No photo here, as I am at Grandma's house without my own laptop or my camera cord. I took some photos on my cell phone, but my Bluetooth does not want to talk to my mother's MacBook's Bluetooth. Look, I'll put in placeholders for now, and maybe when the boyfriend unit arrives he can figure out how to make my phone sync with the MacBook.
[image = "picture of cookies in clear glass cookie jar, poinsettia and mixed nuts in background"]
Anyway, these are my favorite of all my grandma's cookies, aside from maybe her sugar cookies. I'll blog the sugar cookies later. These, these Walnut Frosties...to be honest, I never knew they had a proper name until tonight. And, while to me they are my grandma's cookies, they are properly attributed to Mrs. G.P. Longmire of Austin, Texas, published in ...from the 17th annual Bake-Off: The Pillsbury Busy Lady Bake-Off Recipes: 100 Prizewinning recipes...shortcutted and up-to-dated by Pillsbury...the Idea Flour (The Pillsbury Company, 1966). The ellipses are not me omitting parts of an even longer title; they are on the cover of the book.
I'm doing this now, before I inadvertently go back to the other side of the country without this recipe for, like, the twelfth time.
[image = "picture of cover of cookbook"]
[image = "picture of Walnut Frosties recipe, page 65"]
2 cups flour (technically, according to recipe, Pillsbury's Best Flour, which to be frank is probably what my grandma bakes with)
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter (technically, Land O'Lakes butter, which I know for a fact is what my grandma bakes with)
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
Oven 350, makes about 48 cookies
Combine flour, soda, and salt (note: Grandma sifts her flour before measuring, even if it's pre-sifted). Gradually add sugar to butter in mixing bowl, creaming until light and fluffy (note: Grandma actually does this by hand, bless her). Add egg and vanilla extract; beat well. Gradually add dry ingredients, mixing well after each addition. Shape into 1-inch balls. Place 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Make a depression in center of each cookie; place 1 teaspoonful Topping (yes, it's capitalized) in depression (note: Grandma uses a melon baller). Bake at 350 for 12 to 14 minutes or until delicately browned.
Topping: Combine 1 cup chopped walnuts, 1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar, and 1/4 cup dairy sour cream. (The book says Diamond Walnuts, but I think we all know I'm going to buy my walnuts at Trader Joe's, where nuts are plentiful and inexpensive.)
Media pairing: We've been watching the endless Brett Favre coverage on ESPN. All you have to do is turn on ESPN and I'm pretty sure they'll be talking about Brett Favre, regardless of what time of day it is or whether they're broadcasting women's college volleyball or whatever.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Creamy Turnip and Arugula Soup
Now that summer squash season is finally over, I thought it safe to purchase another CSA box of mystery organic vegetables.
It came stuffed to the brim with various sorts of greens. Despite a list of "what's tentatively in your box this week," I have yet to identify everything. One bunch is definitely curly kale, and one was definitely red mustard greens (I cooked them; they turned everything an enchanting shade of purple), and one is cilantro (I have no idea what to do with a giant-ass bunch of cilantro, especially since Boyfriend Unit is one of those people who thinks it tastes like soap). Two others have me completely flummoxed. One I decided was arugula.
Also in the box: two smallish turnips, two avocados, and a daikon radish. I still don't know what to do with the daikon radish, a thing which I typically encounter as a sushi garnish.
The turnips and the arugula went into this soup, which turned out delightfully and which I assume is relatively not bad for you:
Creamy Turnip and Arugula Soup (makes...I don't know, 4 servings? Since when do I measure anything?)
2 smallish or 1 giant mutant turnip (I usually find grocery store turnips to be giant mutants)
1 medium russet potato
1 can vegetable broth
1 tablespoon crushed garlic
1 1/2 cups milk (adjust as needed)
2 large handfuls arugula, washed, destemmed, and shredded, and mostly dry
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Peel and chop turnip(s) and potato
2. Heat olive oil on stove in pot; add garlic, turnips, and potatoes and let soften a bit
3. Add vegetable broth, cover, and simmer until vegetables are soft
4. Puree the hell out of vegetables, slowly adding milk until desired consistency is reached. (NOTE: The puree is pretty creamy without the milk, so it would probably still be pretty creamy soup if you wanted to go vegan and make this with more vegetable broth)
5. Return to stove, on low heat. Add arugula and simmer until wilted. Salt and pepper to taste. I needed no additional salt, thanks to the canned vegetable broth.
6. Voila.
The assumption was that adding the potato and slightly cooking the arugula would tone down the sharpness of both arugula and turnips. The assumption was pretty correct.
Next experiment: What to do with the yams which were purchased, but not cooked, for Thanksgiving?
It came stuffed to the brim with various sorts of greens. Despite a list of "what's tentatively in your box this week," I have yet to identify everything. One bunch is definitely curly kale, and one was definitely red mustard greens (I cooked them; they turned everything an enchanting shade of purple), and one is cilantro (I have no idea what to do with a giant-ass bunch of cilantro, especially since Boyfriend Unit is one of those people who thinks it tastes like soap). Two others have me completely flummoxed. One I decided was arugula.
Also in the box: two smallish turnips, two avocados, and a daikon radish. I still don't know what to do with the daikon radish, a thing which I typically encounter as a sushi garnish.
The turnips and the arugula went into this soup, which turned out delightfully and which I assume is relatively not bad for you:
Creamy Turnip and Arugula Soup (makes...I don't know, 4 servings? Since when do I measure anything?)
2 smallish or 1 giant mutant turnip (I usually find grocery store turnips to be giant mutants)
1 medium russet potato
1 can vegetable broth
1 tablespoon crushed garlic
1 1/2 cups milk (adjust as needed)
2 large handfuls arugula, washed, destemmed, and shredded, and mostly dry
Salt and pepper to taste
1. Peel and chop turnip(s) and potato
2. Heat olive oil on stove in pot; add garlic, turnips, and potatoes and let soften a bit
3. Add vegetable broth, cover, and simmer until vegetables are soft
4. Puree the hell out of vegetables, slowly adding milk until desired consistency is reached. (NOTE: The puree is pretty creamy without the milk, so it would probably still be pretty creamy soup if you wanted to go vegan and make this with more vegetable broth)
5. Return to stove, on low heat. Add arugula and simmer until wilted. Salt and pepper to taste. I needed no additional salt, thanks to the canned vegetable broth.
6. Voila.
The assumption was that adding the potato and slightly cooking the arugula would tone down the sharpness of both arugula and turnips. The assumption was pretty correct.
Next experiment: What to do with the yams which were purchased, but not cooked, for Thanksgiving?
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Almond Coffee Cake with Apple-Amaretto Filling
My kitchen continues to be ruled by almond flour.
Boyfriend unit has been requesting coffee cake for some time. I hadn't made one in forever. Granny Smith apples were on sale this week, so I'd bought some in case the urge to make a pie struck me (it didn't).
At this point, I think we can pretty much count on the fact that I'm going to look at previously attempted recipes in The Joy of Cooking, decide they're not complicated enough, and start EXPERIMENTING. This time, I am happy to say, the EXPERIMENTING paid off. This coffee cake is really [bleep]ing amazing. The only thing I might do differently next time is pump up the apples. Three or four might have been even more [bleep]ing amazing.
Almond coffee cake with apple-amaretto filling (I need to start thinking of punchier names for these successful EXPERIMENTS. If one occurs to me, I will edit this entry.)
FYI, I based this on a recipe for a 9x9 coffee cake and doubled everything to get a 13x9 coffee cake. The cake comes out at about three inches thick--I'm sure you could halve this recipe if you'd prefer the smaller version.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Peel, core, and slice 2 large or 3 small Granny Smith apples.
Melt 1 tbsp butter in saucepan; add apples and:
1/3 cup amaretto (optional. I have a bottle left over from the vegan cupcakes, and am determined to use it.)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup sugar
Cook over medium heat until thick and syrupy.
Meanwhile, sift together in a large bowl:
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup almond flour
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
Set aside.
Cream until light and fluffy:
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
Then add:
2 eggs (at room temperature)
1 1/3 cups milk (at room temperature)
1/2 tsp vanilla
Mix in dry ingredients.
Prepare streusel topping:
2/3 cup sugar
4 tbsp flour
4 tbsp butter
Blend these until crumbly (I used my mini food processor), then add:
1 tsp cinnamon
Have ready a greased 13"x9" sheet cake pan. Spread in half the batter, then add the apple filling, like so:
Top with remaining batter, then spread streusel topping across the top:
Bake for 25-30 minutes. It will not brown very much in the oven:
You should also be careful, because this cake seems to cause problems with spectral dogs.
Media Pairing: I can't think of anything in particular that goes with this cake. So I will give you two things I watched before making it.
First, I saw a preview screening of Black Swan last weekend, and it was also pretty [bleep]ing awesome--rather evocative of early Polanski, but actually good (I hate Polanski on principle because of the rape thing and therefore refuse to see his films unless a professor makes me. One made me see The Tenant, and I hated it because it is boring and self-indulgent). To a degree, one must turn off one's training in post-Freud. post-Lacan psychoanalytic gender studies, because Black Swan requires an active investment in female hysteria, but still. It was delightfully creepy. Here's the trailer:
Mind, all the characters are ballet folks, and therefore are all various degrees of borderline eating disordered and would have nothing to do with this cake, but that's their loss.
Second, Patrick Stewart on Extras:
Andy Millman would totally eat my coffee cake, since he is a...
...little fat man with a pug-nosed face.
<3 Ricky Gervais.
Boyfriend unit has been requesting coffee cake for some time. I hadn't made one in forever. Granny Smith apples were on sale this week, so I'd bought some in case the urge to make a pie struck me (it didn't).
At this point, I think we can pretty much count on the fact that I'm going to look at previously attempted recipes in The Joy of Cooking, decide they're not complicated enough, and start EXPERIMENTING. This time, I am happy to say, the EXPERIMENTING paid off. This coffee cake is really [bleep]ing amazing. The only thing I might do differently next time is pump up the apples. Three or four might have been even more [bleep]ing amazing.
Almond coffee cake with apple-amaretto filling (I need to start thinking of punchier names for these successful EXPERIMENTS. If one occurs to me, I will edit this entry.)
FYI, I based this on a recipe for a 9x9 coffee cake and doubled everything to get a 13x9 coffee cake. The cake comes out at about three inches thick--I'm sure you could halve this recipe if you'd prefer the smaller version.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Peel, core, and slice 2 large or 3 small Granny Smith apples.
Melt 1 tbsp butter in saucepan; add apples and:
1/3 cup amaretto (optional. I have a bottle left over from the vegan cupcakes, and am determined to use it.)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup sugar
Cook over medium heat until thick and syrupy.
Meanwhile, sift together in a large bowl:
2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup almond flour
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
Set aside.
Cream until light and fluffy:
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
Then add:
2 eggs (at room temperature)
1 1/3 cups milk (at room temperature)
1/2 tsp vanilla
Mix in dry ingredients.
Prepare streusel topping:
2/3 cup sugar
4 tbsp flour
4 tbsp butter
Blend these until crumbly (I used my mini food processor), then add:
1 tsp cinnamon
Have ready a greased 13"x9" sheet cake pan. Spread in half the batter, then add the apple filling, like so:
Top with remaining batter, then spread streusel topping across the top:
Bake for 25-30 minutes. It will not brown very much in the oven:
You should also be careful, because this cake seems to cause problems with spectral dogs.
Media Pairing: I can't think of anything in particular that goes with this cake. So I will give you two things I watched before making it.
First, I saw a preview screening of Black Swan last weekend, and it was also pretty [bleep]ing awesome--rather evocative of early Polanski, but actually good (I hate Polanski on principle because of the rape thing and therefore refuse to see his films unless a professor makes me. One made me see The Tenant, and I hated it because it is boring and self-indulgent). To a degree, one must turn off one's training in post-Freud. post-Lacan psychoanalytic gender studies, because Black Swan requires an active investment in female hysteria, but still. It was delightfully creepy. Here's the trailer:
Mind, all the characters are ballet folks, and therefore are all various degrees of borderline eating disordered and would have nothing to do with this cake, but that's their loss.
Second, Patrick Stewart on Extras:
Andy Millman would totally eat my coffee cake, since he is a...
...little fat man with a pug-nosed face.
<3 Ricky Gervais.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Applesauce, and Cinnamon Almond Applesauce Bread
I am in Los Angeles. We don't really have seasons. Sometimes that's kind of a bummer. Other times it's nice.
Boyfriend Unit's family is from New England, where autumn is a regional obsession. Sweaters! Scarves! Hats! Boots! The leaves change color! Everyone drinks Dunkin' Donuts coffee (oh wait, they do that in summer too)! Also, there is apple picking.
One day last week, I came home to find that Boyfriend Unit's aunt had gone apple picking and picked us some apples, which she mailed here.
It was exceedingly nice of her to do so, and I'm sure they were lovely apples when picked. They did not, however, survive the journey without severe bruising. I let them sit on the counter for a few days while trying to figure out what to do with them. They were McIntoshes, so pie was out of the question. The apples grew increasingly fragrant. Finally, when the entire apartment began to smell of New England Fall (minus the damp leaves), I made applesauce.
I made a lot of applesauce. Consult your Joy of Cooking. Don't put in as much cinnamon as I put in. I also added ground cloves and a bit of nutmeg (because clearly, applesauce should taste like apple pie). This is 3x a Joy of Cooking recipe. I had a lot of apples.
Then I realized that I had a lot of applesauce, which I eat but Boyfriend Unit doesn't.
"You COULD let me eat the applesauce," said Gromit. "Or you could stop taking pictures of me and give me a cookie. You're probably just going to make the applesauce into bread anyway, and for some reason, I won't be allowed to eat any of it."
My dog is pretty smart.
"But why can't I have any? IT SMELLS GOOD AND I AM SO CUTE."
Cinnamon Almond Applesauce Bread
Mix:
1 cup applesauce, preferably homemade
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed (adjust according to sweetness of applesauce; mine was pretty sweet to start with, and this turned out about right)
1 tsp vanilla
Cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground cloves to taste, if applesauce is unspiced (I'd go for 1 tsp, 1/4 tsp and 1/4 tsp, respectively)
In another bowl, sift together:
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup almond flour (seriously, this is my favorite discovery of the year--it makes things awesome)
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
Add dry ingredients to wet and mix until blended. If desired, stir in:
1/3 cup chopped, julienned, or sliced almonds
Pour into greased loaf pan. I chose to garnish the top with some sliced almonds. A streusel topping would also be highly appropriate.
Bake @ 350 degrees for 50 minutes or until done.
Refuse to share with dog, thus making him pouty.
Media Pairing: I got fourteen apples, but that's a big number (I'm in the humanities). We should start with ten.
Boyfriend Unit's family is from New England, where autumn is a regional obsession. Sweaters! Scarves! Hats! Boots! The leaves change color! Everyone drinks Dunkin' Donuts coffee (oh wait, they do that in summer too)! Also, there is apple picking.
One day last week, I came home to find that Boyfriend Unit's aunt had gone apple picking and picked us some apples, which she mailed here.
It was exceedingly nice of her to do so, and I'm sure they were lovely apples when picked. They did not, however, survive the journey without severe bruising. I let them sit on the counter for a few days while trying to figure out what to do with them. They were McIntoshes, so pie was out of the question. The apples grew increasingly fragrant. Finally, when the entire apartment began to smell of New England Fall (minus the damp leaves), I made applesauce.
I made a lot of applesauce. Consult your Joy of Cooking. Don't put in as much cinnamon as I put in. I also added ground cloves and a bit of nutmeg (because clearly, applesauce should taste like apple pie). This is 3x a Joy of Cooking recipe. I had a lot of apples.
Then I realized that I had a lot of applesauce, which I eat but Boyfriend Unit doesn't.
"You COULD let me eat the applesauce," said Gromit. "Or you could stop taking pictures of me and give me a cookie. You're probably just going to make the applesauce into bread anyway, and for some reason, I won't be allowed to eat any of it."
My dog is pretty smart.
"But why can't I have any? IT SMELLS GOOD AND I AM SO CUTE."
Cinnamon Almond Applesauce Bread
Mix:
1 cup applesauce, preferably homemade
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cup vegetable oil
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed (adjust according to sweetness of applesauce; mine was pretty sweet to start with, and this turned out about right)
1 tsp vanilla
Cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground cloves to taste, if applesauce is unspiced (I'd go for 1 tsp, 1/4 tsp and 1/4 tsp, respectively)
In another bowl, sift together:
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup almond flour (seriously, this is my favorite discovery of the year--it makes things awesome)
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
Add dry ingredients to wet and mix until blended. If desired, stir in:
1/3 cup chopped, julienned, or sliced almonds
Pour into greased loaf pan. I chose to garnish the top with some sliced almonds. A streusel topping would also be highly appropriate.
Bake @ 350 degrees for 50 minutes or until done.
Refuse to share with dog, thus making him pouty.
Media Pairing: I got fourteen apples, but that's a big number (I'm in the humanities). We should start with ten.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Pumpkin Bread to Inspire Shouting
Okay, I'm going to confess something terrible right now: while I love pumpkin pie beyond all reason, I don't go crazy for other pumpkin-flavored things. In fact, many of the seasonal pumpkin things rather baffle me. I tried a pumpkin latte from Starbucks once, and found it unworthy of trying again (and definitely unworthy of the price tag). I have not tried Jamba Juice's pumpkin smoothie, because quite frankly, I find the combination of icy/pumpkin both perplexing and upsetting. Why would you want to DRINK something that tastes like a PIE? A pumpkin pie is already in its ideal state. It shouldn't be frozen and go through a straw. It should be custardy, served in a flaky pastry crust, topped with obscene amounts DIY whipped cream (a little sugar, a lot of vanilla). I made just such a pie last week, but did not blog it, because the ideal pumpkin pie recipe is the one on the back of the Libby's can with a little extra cinnamon added.
This pumpkin bread is pretty good, too. It's sort of the inspiration for this little Society of Cinnamon and Media Studies - I posted the recipe on Facebook and there was a lot of virtual yelling. It's also inspired actual yelling, in our department offices, directed at me and coming from our office manager. Something about how I must have laced the bread with illicit substances because she couldn't stop eating it.
Unless bourbon vanilla is an illicit substance, I have done no such thing.
In the interests of full disclosure, I stole this recipe from somewhere on the internet, but the stolen version turned out not that great. I've made changes. I'm still making changes. I am TINKERING. It's good enough to publish now, though.
Set oven to 350 and grease two loaf pans.
Mix:
15 oz. (one can) pumpkin
4 eggs, lightly beaten
2/3 to 3/4 cup vegetable oil
2/3 cup water
3 cups white sugar OR 2 cups white, one cup light brown
1 tsp. vanilla
Sift:
3 1/2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 tsp. ginger
Add dry ingredients to wet and mix until just blended.
Optional: Add 1 to 1 1/2 cups nuts (walnuts! pecans! almonds! possibly cashews although I haven't tried that and it sounds weird even though cashews are my favorite! hazelnuts would probably not be good!), 3/4 cup dried cranberries, OR (I just tried this for the first time, but haven't tasted it yet; if it's bad, you can blame my Aunt Nancy whose idea it was) 3/4 cup chocolate chips.
Bake for 50-60 minutes or until done.
I'll probably be hanging around campus with some of this stuff tomorrow. I can't eat two loaves of pumpkin bread by myself. I'll share if you're nice.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Ginger Peach Muffins
Wow, our posting has really slowed down since fall semester started! Who'd have thunk it?
I'm supposed to be working on screening documents this weekend, and I swear to God I have been. But I need the occasional break. Also, I had a very vivid dream last week about ginger peach muffins, which I'm sure I had never eaten before--or even seen, although a quick scan of the interwebs tells me that they are not unknown.
The ginger peach muffins in my dream (which had flavors. I don't often have dreams with flavors) were laced with a gingery swirl, sort of like the marzipan swirl in Ben & Jerry's "Mission to Marzipan" ice cream, a flavor which Amber and I have discussed in some detail. But I don't know quite how to make ginger-flavored marzipan in the first place, let alone how to put it into a muffin. However, I did have a basic muffin recipe from The Joy of Cooking, and some ideas about how to make the muffin taste good even if I couldn't recreate the swirl from my dream. So, moving on!
The next problem I encountered was the Inferior California Peach.
Look at that. That is a ripe yellow peach. That is the best ripe yellow peach I could find (at a reasonable price). I usually don't think of myself as Southern, but I did grow up in Georgia, and damn if I can't tell a Superior Georgia Peach from an Inferior California One.
The peach was so wimpy that I decided to saute it first.
Because a combination of:
1 tbsp butter, melted
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp cinnamon
is guaranteed to improve almost everything, including:
1 ripe yellow peach, peeled, pitted, and finely diced
Saute it until the peach is soft and the syrup is syrupy (around 5 minutes), then remove from heat and let cool. Meanwhile, whisk together in a large bowl:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
And in another large bowl, whisk thoroughly:
2 large eggs
1 cup milk
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp amaretto (optional. I have a bottle from the cupcake experiment, so probably a lot of things I bake over the next couple of months will have amaretto in them.)
Cooled peach mixture
Make a well in the dry ingredients, then add wet and blend quickly, with only a few strokes. The batter should still be lumpy. Spoon into a cupcake pan - you'll want paper liners.
Before baking, sprinkle a few tiny pieces of diced candied ginger and about 1 tsp quick-cooking oats over each muffin. Like so:
Bake at 400 degrees for 18-20 minutes.
They puff nicely.
Option: If you like ginger more than I do (I don't love ginger so much, really), you could finely dice more candied ginger and add that to the batter. It does turn out that finely dicing candied ginger is hella annoying, because it goes all soft and sticky as soon as you try to manipulate it.
I also wish these were a tiny bit peachier. Or maybe my sample muffin just got short shrift on the peach bits. But I might try this with two (small) peaches next time.
Media Pairing: Sing it with me! "My muffin top is all that, whole grain, low-fat..."
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Recipe review: Chef Chloe's Vegan Raspberry Tiramisu Cupcakes
As you have probably guessed from the fact that nearly every baking experiment I've blogged has involved massive, massive quantities of butter, I am not a vegan. But I've been meaning to try some vegan baking--partially because I'm curious, partially because I might one day want to bake something for a person who is allergic to eggs or dairy (or, you know, is vegan. I do live in California, after all, and "are you vegan" is not really a weird question). And my dissertation has suddenly taken an animal rights sort of bent. So when I read an article in the New York Times recently, and it linked to a recipe for apparently very good raspberry tiramisu cupcakes, I thought, "why the hell not?" even though I don't watch Cupcake Wars. Somewhere in my mind, I am aware that "why the hell not" is not always a valid reason to do something. But we're talking about cupcakes here, so why the hell not? I like raspberry, and I like tiramisu, and I like cupcakes, so I went to Whole Foods and bought vegan hippie food things and their lavender-scented shampoo which I love because it makes my hair shiny (and look, I eat butter, but I don't see any reason for toiletries and cosmetics to involve animal products or testing), and then I also went to Ralphs, because the lemons at Whole Foods were a dollar each which is absurd, and also Whole Foods doesn't stock amaretto.
My cupcakes are not as pretty as the ones pictured on Chef Chloe's blog. I did not go to the trouble and/or expense of buying carob, mint leaves, and fresh raspberries to garnish. Thus, what with the coffee-amaretto frosting, my cupcakes look a little bit like poo. I can admit that.
I think they taste more or less okay. There are some weird textural issues, and I don't know if they're my fault, or if vegan cake is just like this. Mainly, the cupcakes tested clean with the toothpick, but they seem a little underdone. Vaguely oily. The bottoms of my cupcake papers were greasier than non-vegan cupcakes. I don't know.
Problem two: the cake recipe calls for coconut milk. I love coconut and can't taste it at all in the cake. The boyfriend unit hates coconut, and thought the cake tasted overwhelmingly of coconut.
Problem three: The "soaking liquid" and raspberry sauce combine to make this a very soggy cupcake, indeed. Scroll back up to the finished cupcake. You can see that the teaspoonful or so of espresso-flavored amaretto has soaked clean through to the bottom of the paper.
This is not a cupcake to be picked up in one's hand and eaten like a cupcake. This is a cupcake requiring plates and forks.
Problem three and a half: The recipe doesn't say anything about straining the raspberry sauce. I loathe picking seeds out of my teeth, so I strained it. But maybe the seeds were meant to keep it thick in some way.
Problem four (not really a problem, but I'm mentioning it anyway): The frosting is really, really, really sweet. (Also, recipe says two tablespoons of water, but I needed four, and also added another two tablespoons of soaking liquid to it.) The raspberry sauce and soaking liquid are, respectively, tart and bitter (though the former has sugar).
If you manage to get all of the components in one bite, it's pretty good. If you don't, it's either tart, bitter, or makes your teeth crumble right out of your head. Since the cupcakes do not have tops and the frosting is stiff, you pretty much have to pipe the frosting on, which means there is more frosting, which means more feeling like your teeth are crumbling.
I need an actual vegan to come eat the cupcakes and tell me if I've done this right and vegan baked goods are just like this, or if I actually did something wrong somewhere. One of the professors I'm TAing for this year is a vegetarian, and his daughter owns a vegan bake shop somewhere on the east coast. He asked to read one of my academic papers a few weeks ago; showing up on Monday with a cupcake and asking for a critique of it is similar, right?
Media Pairing: I haven't seen this film yet--like so many other films I'm supposed to have seen by now, it is languishing in my Netflix queue. Regardless, may I recommend Examined Life? The director, Astra Taylor, and her sister Sunny Taylor (who's in the film, and pictured briefly here in the trailer, with Judith Butler) are both vegans/animal rights activists/all-around awesome people. We used to be in a homeschool group together, back in the years when we would've been in middle school (or Sunny and I would've been; Astra's a few years older). Support independent documentary filmmaking!
Slavoj Zizek appears to be dressed as a construction worker. What's not to like?
My cupcakes are not as pretty as the ones pictured on Chef Chloe's blog. I did not go to the trouble and/or expense of buying carob, mint leaves, and fresh raspberries to garnish. Thus, what with the coffee-amaretto frosting, my cupcakes look a little bit like poo. I can admit that.
I think they taste more or less okay. There are some weird textural issues, and I don't know if they're my fault, or if vegan cake is just like this. Mainly, the cupcakes tested clean with the toothpick, but they seem a little underdone. Vaguely oily. The bottoms of my cupcake papers were greasier than non-vegan cupcakes. I don't know.
Problem two: the cake recipe calls for coconut milk. I love coconut and can't taste it at all in the cake. The boyfriend unit hates coconut, and thought the cake tasted overwhelmingly of coconut.
Problem three: The "soaking liquid" and raspberry sauce combine to make this a very soggy cupcake, indeed. Scroll back up to the finished cupcake. You can see that the teaspoonful or so of espresso-flavored amaretto has soaked clean through to the bottom of the paper.
This is not a cupcake to be picked up in one's hand and eaten like a cupcake. This is a cupcake requiring plates and forks.
Problem three and a half: The recipe doesn't say anything about straining the raspberry sauce. I loathe picking seeds out of my teeth, so I strained it. But maybe the seeds were meant to keep it thick in some way.
Problem four (not really a problem, but I'm mentioning it anyway): The frosting is really, really, really sweet. (Also, recipe says two tablespoons of water, but I needed four, and also added another two tablespoons of soaking liquid to it.) The raspberry sauce and soaking liquid are, respectively, tart and bitter (though the former has sugar).
If you manage to get all of the components in one bite, it's pretty good. If you don't, it's either tart, bitter, or makes your teeth crumble right out of your head. Since the cupcakes do not have tops and the frosting is stiff, you pretty much have to pipe the frosting on, which means there is more frosting, which means more feeling like your teeth are crumbling.
I need an actual vegan to come eat the cupcakes and tell me if I've done this right and vegan baked goods are just like this, or if I actually did something wrong somewhere. One of the professors I'm TAing for this year is a vegetarian, and his daughter owns a vegan bake shop somewhere on the east coast. He asked to read one of my academic papers a few weeks ago; showing up on Monday with a cupcake and asking for a critique of it is similar, right?
Media Pairing: I haven't seen this film yet--like so many other films I'm supposed to have seen by now, it is languishing in my Netflix queue. Regardless, may I recommend Examined Life? The director, Astra Taylor, and her sister Sunny Taylor (who's in the film, and pictured briefly here in the trailer, with Judith Butler) are both vegans/animal rights activists/all-around awesome people. We used to be in a homeschool group together, back in the years when we would've been in middle school (or Sunny and I would've been; Astra's a few years older). Support independent documentary filmmaking!
Slavoj Zizek appears to be dressed as a construction worker. What's not to like?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sal's Sweet Raspberry Ravioli
I'm disgusted with how fast and easy this was.
So, I made like, three dozen leek and shrimp potstickers. Big whoop. I didn't even eat any yet. They're in the freezer. I'm so not down for delayed gratification.
SO... I decided the leftover 9, count them 9 wonton wrappers needed to be put to use.
This literally took less than 5 minutes.
1a. Put 1/2" of vegetable oil in a cast iron skillet and turn it on medium high heat.
1b. Lay four wonton wrappers out.
2. Mash about ten raspberries with about two tablespoons of berry jam.
3a. Place a dollop of this berry mixture in the center of each wonton wrapper.
3b. Use brute force to marry the wonton edges, because with a filling this wet, there's no assuring a mere brushing of water will hold back the fruity tide.
4. Whip a cup of whipping cream with two tablespoons each of sugar and good cocoa (I like Droste).
5. By now your oil is hot, so drop the raviolis in one at a time.
6. Garnish with powdered sugar (I am out of this, sadly) the chocolate cream, and fresh berries.
Media pairing: Mad Men.
Because it's 9:36 on Sunday so I'm thinking about it coming on in a minute. And because these raviolis are A. Tough on the outside B. Fruity on the inside and C. Italian-American and D. Gone, goddammit, like Sal who I am still mad got written out of the show. I don't forget.
So, I made like, three dozen leek and shrimp potstickers. Big whoop. I didn't even eat any yet. They're in the freezer. I'm so not down for delayed gratification.
SO... I decided the leftover 9, count them 9 wonton wrappers needed to be put to use.
This literally took less than 5 minutes.
1a. Put 1/2" of vegetable oil in a cast iron skillet and turn it on medium high heat.
1b. Lay four wonton wrappers out.
2. Mash about ten raspberries with about two tablespoons of berry jam.
3a. Place a dollop of this berry mixture in the center of each wonton wrapper.
3b. Use brute force to marry the wonton edges, because with a filling this wet, there's no assuring a mere brushing of water will hold back the fruity tide.
4. Whip a cup of whipping cream with two tablespoons each of sugar and good cocoa (I like Droste).
5. By now your oil is hot, so drop the raviolis in one at a time.
6. Garnish with powdered sugar (I am out of this, sadly) the chocolate cream, and fresh berries.
Media pairing: Mad Men.
Because it's 9:36 on Sunday so I'm thinking about it coming on in a minute. And because these raviolis are A. Tough on the outside B. Fruity on the inside and C. Italian-American and D. Gone, goddammit, like Sal who I am still mad got written out of the show. I don't forget.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Castle Dweller's Coffee Cake
A long, long time ago--so long ago that phone booths still existed and were culturally relevant--I spent a semester abroad, living in an honest-to-God castle in the Netherlands. It was pretty awesome, I'm not gonna lie. My favorite part might have been the email I sent to my parents, informing them that I had signed up for skydiving. "Don't worry," I assured them, "my desire to jump out of a plane over the Swiss Alps has absolutely nothing to do with my performance on midterms."
"If you're going to jump out of a plane," replied my father, "don't you want to land somewhere flat?" Dad tries to think practically about things.
There were many adventures to be had in Europe, and quite a few could be had in the tiny town of Well. I got my feet stuck in the mud by the river! During Carnival, I got groped by a six-foot-five adult man wearing leiderhosen, and while I recoiled in pain (he left finger-shaped bruises on one breast; it hurt), someone on a parade float threw a can of Heineken at my head! I had to eat the cafeteria food!
The first sign that we were going to be served bad food all semester: the Kasteel's dining hall is in a dungeon. Suffice to say that there are some things one should never be exposed to and one of those things is the Dutch interpretation of tacos. Seven years later, I still recoil in horror at the thought of them. The cafeteria was run by a lady named Nellie, who had a restaurant in the area that was supposed to be pretty good. I never ate at the restaurant. The cafeteria food was not good. "What kind of meat is this?" you might ask while staring at an unidentifiable croquette. "Pork," Nellie would respond. "It's pork AND meat." Oh. Helpful.
Many meals, therefore, consisted of the Peanut Butter Cup Sandwich, aka peanut butter and store-brand Nutella on toast. In tribute to the memory of that sandwich - although it has no peanut butter - I have invented a chocolate hazelnut pound cake. And when I say "invented," I really mean "the cookbook from which I got the recipe for the Almond Brown Sugar Pound Cake had variations listed for both chocolate pound cake and hazelnut pound cake, but I can't leave well enough alone, so I decided to combine them."
I will admit that the combination of icing and flash photography is rather unfortunate.
So, follow the above recipe, but using 2 cups white flour, 1 1/4 cups hazelnut flour, 1/2 cup cocoa powder, 3 cups granulated sugar, and omitting the almond extract. I also made a cream cheese glaze instead of the butter glaze.
The boyfriend unit chose to eat his piece with additional glaze, making it look even more unfortunate.
Gromit still wanted some, though.
Conclusion: This is good, but a touch sweet for my taste. It was actually better on the second day. I think I might want to reduce the sugar a little bit. And maybe try the plain hazelnut variation. Since the semester started, I took a couple of pieces to campus to my Official Testing Committee. They both approved.
Media Pairing: This film, subtitled in Dutch, was pretty much the only movie we had access to at the Kasteel. There are still a few folks who know me as Bob Ghengis Khan.
"If you're going to jump out of a plane," replied my father, "don't you want to land somewhere flat?" Dad tries to think practically about things.
There were many adventures to be had in Europe, and quite a few could be had in the tiny town of Well. I got my feet stuck in the mud by the river! During Carnival, I got groped by a six-foot-five adult man wearing leiderhosen, and while I recoiled in pain (he left finger-shaped bruises on one breast; it hurt), someone on a parade float threw a can of Heineken at my head! I had to eat the cafeteria food!
The first sign that we were going to be served bad food all semester: the Kasteel's dining hall is in a dungeon. Suffice to say that there are some things one should never be exposed to and one of those things is the Dutch interpretation of tacos. Seven years later, I still recoil in horror at the thought of them. The cafeteria was run by a lady named Nellie, who had a restaurant in the area that was supposed to be pretty good. I never ate at the restaurant. The cafeteria food was not good. "What kind of meat is this?" you might ask while staring at an unidentifiable croquette. "Pork," Nellie would respond. "It's pork AND meat." Oh. Helpful.
Many meals, therefore, consisted of the Peanut Butter Cup Sandwich, aka peanut butter and store-brand Nutella on toast. In tribute to the memory of that sandwich - although it has no peanut butter - I have invented a chocolate hazelnut pound cake. And when I say "invented," I really mean "the cookbook from which I got the recipe for the Almond Brown Sugar Pound Cake had variations listed for both chocolate pound cake and hazelnut pound cake, but I can't leave well enough alone, so I decided to combine them."
I will admit that the combination of icing and flash photography is rather unfortunate.
So, follow the above recipe, but using 2 cups white flour, 1 1/4 cups hazelnut flour, 1/2 cup cocoa powder, 3 cups granulated sugar, and omitting the almond extract. I also made a cream cheese glaze instead of the butter glaze.
The boyfriend unit chose to eat his piece with additional glaze, making it look even more unfortunate.
Gromit still wanted some, though.
Conclusion: This is good, but a touch sweet for my taste. It was actually better on the second day. I think I might want to reduce the sugar a little bit. And maybe try the plain hazelnut variation. Since the semester started, I took a couple of pieces to campus to my Official Testing Committee. They both approved.
Media Pairing: This film, subtitled in Dutch, was pretty much the only movie we had access to at the Kasteel. There are still a few folks who know me as Bob Ghengis Khan.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Roasted Banana Ice Cream
Bananas are an herb!
Monkeys eat bananas from the opposite side than we do — try it! Just pinch the banana button! It's much more reliable!
Bananas are much more fun to discuss in a British accent!
Gwen Stefani, despite all her fame and fortune, made sure America's youth knew how to spell the name of the most popular fruit! Now that's not bananas. It's very sensible, commercially appealing, pop philanthropy.
If your banana rings, do NOT answer it. You will go mad. Or... maybe you were already?
The strings that go up and down bananas are called phloem bundles. They deliver phloem, nutrients for the fruit's development. And I hate them passionately.
So... discard them before you slice your bananas for this recipe.
Take 6 ripe ripe bananas. These are ideal. Unriper is ok, but may require more roasting.
Chop and toss with 1.5 cups brown sugar, and roast in a 400 degree oven for 30-40 minutes. Oh motherfoster. That looks good.
Puree with
1 pint half and half
1 Tbsp lemon juice
1 Tsp cinnamon
1 Tsp salt
2 Tsp Vanilla.
It might seem like a lot of lemon juice, salt and vanilla for the amount of banana/cream. Frozen, it will taste just right. I mean, it tastes awesome as slop, but kind of strong.
To egg or not to egg? New York or Philly style? In ice cream, this is a big, overblown question. The bananas do a wonderful job as emulsifiers, so without worrying over how to make a real custard, you attain a custardy texture.
Be sure your mixture is cool before putting it into your ice cream maker, if you use a frozen core style maker as I do. Warm mixture will raise the core's temperature too much and the mix will never firm up.
This is another amazingly good ice cream recipe without any hard work. One I'll be taking to an upcoming ice cream swap.
Media pairing: Oy. The Cavendish banana wasbred designed by GOD for human consumption.
Only monkeys open them better.
Monkeys eat bananas from the opposite side than we do — try it! Just pinch the banana button! It's much more reliable!
Bananas are much more fun to discuss in a British accent!
Gwen Stefani, despite all her fame and fortune, made sure America's youth knew how to spell the name of the most popular fruit! Now that's not bananas. It's very sensible, commercially appealing, pop philanthropy.
If your banana rings, do NOT answer it. You will go mad. Or... maybe you were already?
The strings that go up and down bananas are called phloem bundles. They deliver phloem, nutrients for the fruit's development. And I hate them passionately.
So... discard them before you slice your bananas for this recipe.
Take 6 ripe ripe bananas. These are ideal. Unriper is ok, but may require more roasting.
Chop and toss with 1.5 cups brown sugar, and roast in a 400 degree oven for 30-40 minutes. Oh motherfoster. That looks good.
Puree with
1 pint half and half
1 Tbsp lemon juice
1 Tsp cinnamon
1 Tsp salt
2 Tsp Vanilla.
It might seem like a lot of lemon juice, salt and vanilla for the amount of banana/cream. Frozen, it will taste just right. I mean, it tastes awesome as slop, but kind of strong.
To egg or not to egg? New York or Philly style? In ice cream, this is a big, overblown question. The bananas do a wonderful job as emulsifiers, so without worrying over how to make a real custard, you attain a custardy texture.
Be sure your mixture is cool before putting it into your ice cream maker, if you use a frozen core style maker as I do. Warm mixture will raise the core's temperature too much and the mix will never firm up.
This is another amazingly good ice cream recipe without any hard work. One I'll be taking to an upcoming ice cream swap.
Media pairing: Oy. The Cavendish banana was
Only monkeys open them better.
Pappardelle with Asparagus and Prosciutto Cream Sauce
God, this is easy.
You get a bag of pappardelle.
You slice up about 6 ounces of prosciutto.
You pour a pint of heavy cream into a pan, sprinkle in some black pepper and a tiny bit of salt, and reduce it over low heat. While it reduces, you can boil pasta water/cook pasta and give a very quick steam to some three-inch-long segments of fresh asparagus (which you should be very careful not to overcook).
This is one of those fun dishes that's really easy to time. Pasta water goes on, steaming water goes on, wash and cut asparagus, put on cream to reduce, steam asparagus, put pasta in boiling water. Right before you take the pasta off, add the asparagus and prosciutto to the cream - don't add it too soon or else the prosciutto will cook, which is just weird - and bang! Dinner. Oh, add parmesan or romano or what have you.
I do realize that even the asparagus can't keep this from essentially being a plate of carbs soaked in heavy cream. Which brings me to my next point: there's no way to keep the sauce from being runny, so I recommend serving with a nice crusty bread, and using that to sop up the extra cream. I also recommend serving this with Lactaid. Because being mildly lactose intolerant (which I am) is no excuse. And a salad might not be out of order, either. You know, if you care about your arteries.
You get a bag of pappardelle.
You slice up about 6 ounces of prosciutto.
You pour a pint of heavy cream into a pan, sprinkle in some black pepper and a tiny bit of salt, and reduce it over low heat. While it reduces, you can boil pasta water/cook pasta and give a very quick steam to some three-inch-long segments of fresh asparagus (which you should be very careful not to overcook).
This is one of those fun dishes that's really easy to time. Pasta water goes on, steaming water goes on, wash and cut asparagus, put on cream to reduce, steam asparagus, put pasta in boiling water. Right before you take the pasta off, add the asparagus and prosciutto to the cream - don't add it too soon or else the prosciutto will cook, which is just weird - and bang! Dinner. Oh, add parmesan or romano or what have you.
I do realize that even the asparagus can't keep this from essentially being a plate of carbs soaked in heavy cream. Which brings me to my next point: there's no way to keep the sauce from being runny, so I recommend serving with a nice crusty bread, and using that to sop up the extra cream. I also recommend serving this with Lactaid. Because being mildly lactose intolerant (which I am) is no excuse. And a salad might not be out of order, either. You know, if you care about your arteries.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Hazelnut Gratin of Leeks and Turnips
Handsome Consort and I have a vegetable garden for the second year now. It's not much, just about a 2' x 25' strip along the side of the house. But along with the strawberries and herbs in the front, and the passionfruit and concord grape vines on the back trellis, we produce a fair amount of edible treats. Or in the case of zucchini, an unfair amount. Mon dieu, what did moi ever do to bring this plague d'courgettes?
This year's veggies so far have been peas (oh, fresh peas are the bessssst), zucchini (Beware! It's calling from inside the house!), peppers, tomatoes, turnips and leeks.
Oh, leeks. Leeks, leeks, leeks. Deleektable, deleekcious leeks. Rather pricey to buy, leeks are a cinch to grow. But mine never got the chance to get quite as beefy and thick as storebought. We've been harvesting them when a little thicker than a thumb. Fortunately, it was determined that they stay much more tender and sweet than storebought this way, so more of the greens can be eaten as-is (rather than used in puree or broth, which are just fine for the stringier tops.)
Also fine for stringy tops: kitty torment!
Fear me, leeks! Fear my teeth that shred! and paws! that kind of ...ineffectually grasp! when I teeter on my back feet!
Sven thinks the leeks are destined to be with him. He's kind of in love with them. Maybe because he's a turniphead. Because actually, this bunch of leeks is destined for a gratin with turnips and crunchy hazelnuts.
First, you take a leek.
And cut into small pieces while your Handsome Consort wrangles with A Ginormous Turnipohedron. Here, I did pieces about 3" long. Next time, I think I'd do only 1" pieces, so they could be laid in the gratin on their ends rather than on their sides.
Since the turnip was such a monster, the usual peel and slice rounds routine was no-go, so bascially the turnips are thin-sliced into little cracker-sized pieces.
Then they all got loaded into a very Alton Brownified steaming rig for about 15 minutes.
The mixture which will enswath the veggies in augratinny goodness begins with two eggs and 2/3 C half and half.
To which I added a teaspoon of garlic, and half a teaspoon each of kosher salt, white pepper and freshly grated nutmeg.
Whisk these together and then add half a cup of finely grated parmesan (or asiago, which I often use instead.)
Layer the steamed turnips in your baking dish and top with the leeks. Pour the cheese mixture over them.
*pat pat pat* There. Now you feel butter, hmm? (I think that leek joke envigorated some kind of zinger gland I didn't know I had.)
Now pop that in the oven at 375 for about 20 minutes, after which you'll top it with the crunch crumb mixture:
Crush half a cup of hazelnuts, mix with another quarter cup cheese and about a cup of good bread crumbs. Plus maybe a tablespoon or two of softened butter.
Crumbs, chief!
Have you seen this, have you heard about this? You buy one of those store bakery french loaves and you eat some of it with brie, and some of it with ascolana olive oil, and the rest goes stale immediately. So you put it in a bag and whack it with a shoe, and viola! Good bread crumbs. Keep them airtight.
So, you top the gratin with the crumb mixture after about 20 minutes, and bake for another 10-15. Then you get this!
Mmmmmmm it's goooood.
It breaks up into a hash of noms like so:
That was my seconds. Very tasty, served with a lemon pepper sockeye salmon. Of course, you know what happens when the blogging project is dinner...
Delicious lazy dessert!
Media pairing...
The whole internet knows that nothing goes better with slinging leeks than Finnish polkas!
This year's veggies so far have been peas (oh, fresh peas are the bessssst), zucchini (Beware! It's calling from inside the house!), peppers, tomatoes, turnips and leeks.
Oh, leeks. Leeks, leeks, leeks. Deleektable, deleekcious leeks. Rather pricey to buy, leeks are a cinch to grow. But mine never got the chance to get quite as beefy and thick as storebought. We've been harvesting them when a little thicker than a thumb. Fortunately, it was determined that they stay much more tender and sweet than storebought this way, so more of the greens can be eaten as-is (rather than used in puree or broth, which are just fine for the stringier tops.)
Also fine for stringy tops: kitty torment!
Fear me, leeks! Fear my teeth that shred! and paws! that kind of ...ineffectually grasp! when I teeter on my back feet!
Sven thinks the leeks are destined to be with him. He's kind of in love with them. Maybe because he's a turniphead. Because actually, this bunch of leeks is destined for a gratin with turnips and crunchy hazelnuts.
First, you take a leek.
And cut into small pieces while your Handsome Consort wrangles with A Ginormous Turnipohedron. Here, I did pieces about 3" long. Next time, I think I'd do only 1" pieces, so they could be laid in the gratin on their ends rather than on their sides.
Since the turnip was such a monster, the usual peel and slice rounds routine was no-go, so bascially the turnips are thin-sliced into little cracker-sized pieces.
Then they all got loaded into a very Alton Brownified steaming rig for about 15 minutes.
The mixture which will enswath the veggies in augratinny goodness begins with two eggs and 2/3 C half and half.
To which I added a teaspoon of garlic, and half a teaspoon each of kosher salt, white pepper and freshly grated nutmeg.
Whisk these together and then add half a cup of finely grated parmesan (or asiago, which I often use instead.)
Layer the steamed turnips in your baking dish and top with the leeks. Pour the cheese mixture over them.
*pat pat pat* There. Now you feel butter, hmm? (I think that leek joke envigorated some kind of zinger gland I didn't know I had.)
Now pop that in the oven at 375 for about 20 minutes, after which you'll top it with the crunch crumb mixture:
Crush half a cup of hazelnuts, mix with another quarter cup cheese and about a cup of good bread crumbs. Plus maybe a tablespoon or two of softened butter.
Crumbs, chief!
Have you seen this, have you heard about this? You buy one of those store bakery french loaves and you eat some of it with brie, and some of it with ascolana olive oil, and the rest goes stale immediately. So you put it in a bag and whack it with a shoe, and viola! Good bread crumbs. Keep them airtight.
So, you top the gratin with the crumb mixture after about 20 minutes, and bake for another 10-15. Then you get this!
Mmmmmmm it's goooood.
It breaks up into a hash of noms like so:
That was my seconds. Very tasty, served with a lemon pepper sockeye salmon. Of course, you know what happens when the blogging project is dinner...
Delicious lazy dessert!
Media pairing...
The whole internet knows that nothing goes better with slinging leeks than Finnish polkas!
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