Country Cook

When I met my mother-in-law, Paul had kindly touted me as a super-cook. (Obsessive - yes, nowhere near "super" worthy.)

"I'm a country cook," she had said. "Nothing fancy." Nothing fancy meant getting 3 meals a day on the table for a family of 11. The meat, the starch, the vegetable.... the bread. My head spins and swims thinking about it.

Doris grew up on a farm in Cambria, Wisconsin. Homework was done by the light of kerosene lamps.  When electricity finally did come, it went to the barn first to help with the milking of the cows.

(Grandma and Grandpa Haas at their grandson's wedding in 2010). 

During the winter, the family went to church via horse and sleigh. It sounds romantic but it was chilly and horsehair blankets were piled over the kids to keep them warm.  Doris (mother-in-law) would tell me about the woman who lived next door to the church. She was the godmother of many, many children born in the winter because it was guaranteed that she could make it to the baptism. (Always thought there was a play in that.)

There were no screens on their farmhouse. And windows were bolted shut in the summer to keep out the mosquitoes. So think - hot. And then very cold during the winter. They would heat up bricks on the stove and wrap them in blankets and place them at the foot of their beds for warmth. (Very different than the way her husband Roger grew up in St. Paul - when St. Paul was the land of gangsters - a whole other blog story! And very different from my parents upbringing in New York City. All around the same time frame. We are a vast country!)

Doris went to school in a one-room schoolhouse. And one thing she knew - she wanted out of Cambria. She wanted the city - where nobody cared about your business. And so she found herself in nursing school in Chicago - working the emergency room. That was an eye-opener!

There are smiles when she recalled her courtship with Roger. They hadn't been dating that long when she asked him, "Is this going anywhere because I don't like to waste my time." She soon had a ring on her finger and it worked - over 60 years of marriage. Yes, we recently lost her. But her legacy of stories, cooking and good humor continues with her children, her 18 grandchildren and her 8 great-grandchildren (with one on the way!). We miss her and we find her unexpectedly - through memory, through cooking, through family.

She'd like this recipe. You will, too.

It is "country cooking" at its best. An apple cake - loaded with apples, just sweet enough for smiles and just fluffy enough to deceive you into think there are no calories associated with it. The caramel sauce is thin and drizzly and dresses this French-country-cooking-apple-cake into something more elegant. I first saw this on Bon Appetit and noted it. I later saw it on Ciao Chow Linda's blog and bookmarked it! Linda's salted caramel sauce is a bit thicker than mine so do check it out. And do make this before apple season is over!

I have evolved into a fair country cook. I think it is inherent in all Italians - used to peasant, somewhat poor cooking and looking to use what's available. And what's available in October in Minnesota - are apples. Glorious apples. If you like Honeycrisp and Sweet Tango - you can thank Minnesota for them. They were developed at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities and all Minnesotans sing its praises and head to the orchards.

The apples are first sautéed in butter (did I mention it was French and they do that a lot) and the richness of that step keeps the cake moist and the apples just a wee bit caramelized - and who minds that?

BRETON APPLE CAKE
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, divided (plus a little more for the pan)
1-1/4 cups flour (plus a little more for the pan)
4 firm tart apples (they recommend Pink Lady - I used Sweet Tango and Honeycrisp), cored, peeled, cut into 1/2 inch slices
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon lemon zest

3 large eggs
(they also recommend creme fraiche for serving - I was good with the salted caramel sauce)

SALTED CARAMEL SAUCE
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

PREPARATION

SALTED CARAMEL SAUCE

• Bring sugar and ¼ cup water to a boil in a small saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring to dissolve sugar. Boil, swirling pan occasionally and brushing down sides with a wet pastry brush, until mixture turns a deep amber color, 8–10 minutes. Remove from heat and slowly add cream (mixture will bubble vigorously). Return to medium heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until smooth, about 2 minutes. Remove from heat and mix in butter and salt. Pour caramel sauce into a small heatproof jar or bowl; let cool. (Can be made ahead. Cover and chill.)
  
  
  CAKE
  • Place rack in middle of oven and preheat to 350°. Butter and flour an 8 inch cake pan.
  • Heat 2 Tbsp. melted butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add apples, sprinkle with 2 Tbsp. sugar, and cook until apples are golden brown, 10–12 minutes. Arrange half of the apples in the bottom of prepared cake pan so most of it is covered.
  • Whisk baking powder, salt, lemon zest, 1¼ cups flour, and remaining 1 cup sugar in a large bowl. Whisk in eggs and remaining 10 Tbsp. melted butter until smooth.
  • Pour half of batter over apples in cake pan, top with remaining apples, then pour remaining batter over. Bake cake until top is golden and a tester inserted into the center comes out clean, 40–50 minutes. Transfer pan to a wire rack and let cake cool slightly; turn out onto rack and let cool.
    
    
    Can be made ahead - cover tightly in clear wrap. But I think it's really grand the same day. Rewarm the caramel sauce if made ahead and serve. And by all means - if the spirit moves you - dollop on the creme fraiche.

The crust did not fall off. My husband cut into it and then I made him put his fork down so I could snap one last photo (this went fast). That happens a lot around here!

I have been thinking of the evolution of my blog. Seven years ago I started it to connect with the foods of my childhood and the foods of my family that came before me. Today, I am looking at simpler fare. A little razz-a-ma-tazz thrown in once in a while because - it's theatre! I'm not sure where it's going or if I'm on the right track - but blogs need to change don't they? They're personal. And as the seasons and day-to-day-living changes, I am realizing that our blogs reflect that. Do you ever look back at your early postings and think - how different everything was?

Apple Daze

My reward. Torta di Mele from Proud Italian Cook. So much for my resolve to stay away from cake. But this isn't any cake. It's an orchard cake, a rustic cake, an Italian cake, a cake containing Amaretto. Need I say more?

I started my day very early on the patio. Just me, Sadie (dog) and my coffee. It's a nice break from when I sit at the kitchen table and Pippin (cat; aka Sir Pipster, Pippadew, Pip-a-dee-do-dah, Pipadoodle, etc.) wants to share my coffee. By dipping has paws in my mug. I know where those paws have been.

And then the hawk came. And dove into the last of the Snow on the Mountain. Scurrying. Rodent-hunting. The hawk flew over me creating a ruckus and a windstorm. I went inside. And surprise - no Pippin. I worry because he's lost a few of his 9 lives already and is always by my side in the a.m. I go cat-hunting. And in the back of the basement I find a cat mouse-hunting.

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I go upstairs to work. Matthew (son) goes downstairs to work. Pip may be the court jester but he has patience. We don't hear from him for 3 hours. And then Matthew notices that Pip has emerged from the basement. With a live squealing mouse. Which he intends to carry upstairs to my work room. Which is a definite "No Mouse Zone."

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Matthew goes after Pip, Pipster drops the mouse. The terrified mouse feezes. Matthew covers him with tupperware (yes, probably the same tupperware Paul (husband) uses to change oil and then expects me to put food in it) and Matthew takes Mighty Mouse outside to freedom. Matthew has always practiced "catch and release" with rodents. Someday I will tell you a tale about Matthew, Kirsten and me and 1 mouse. I wrote a short play about it. It had 100 productions the first year. People relate to mouse tales. Anyway, I'm thinking the mouse beat Matthew back into the house. I flee. (The old adage, "if there's 1 mouse, there's probably 7 more...)

To the orchards. The downside of being a freelance writer/playwright is that sometimes there are very lean months. The upside is - in the middle of a perfect weekday - you can flee to the orchards.

And walk.

And sample apples.

I brought home the sweet Minnesota Honeycrisp. Cortland apples for baking and MacIntosh for sweet-tart breakfasts. In the eve I will have some with sharp cheddar cheese while the kids dip their slices in caramel.
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I think these are Yeats, "Golden apples of the sun."

I want some.

So I buy a peck... or two. Enough for the requisite, healthy apple-a-day and enough for cake. Remember the cake (with Amaretto?).

I love pies but I've always had an affinity for apple cake. The lush, white meat stands out. Not hidden by spices. It's an apple and it proclaims itself in cake.
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And so I made it. Not even a mouse (or 7 mice) will stand in the way of me and my kitchen.

And you should make it. One bowl, easy and did I mention it has Amaretto in it?

Look at the moist crumb. Sweet but not cloying. Light but fulfilling. Do yourself a favor, bake the cake!
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I didn't change one gram of Proud Italian Cook's recipe. I didn't even add extra Amaretto. But you can always have some Amaretto on the side ...

Which is why I have linked to her. The recipe is here. And everywhere else I linked. Try it. You'll like it. Don't wait for a mouse to visit your house to have an excuse.

The sweet simplicity of a baked apple and a sweet award

I am betwixt and between getting ready for my new teen play Betwixt and Betweened to open locally (November 5th) and prepping for auditions for Stuart Little (opens December 11th). My beleaguered director finally had a whole week go by without anyone dropping out from the cast. And the director just learned that the activities director had no idea a play was being rehearsed in the school and did not allot for that. Hi ho the glamorous life indeed.

So I crave - simple. In season, a touch of sweet and warm. Baked apples. The Italians dress them with just a smidgen of honey, nuts and raisins. Italians certainly do know how to make sure their fruit shines! Enjoy!




BAKED APPLES: Serves 4
Core apples. Peel them halfway down (you can peel them all - but I like the peel to cradle the filling. In a small bowl mix (amount vary to your taste) 1/2 cup chopped nuts (walnuts, hazelnuts or pecans), 2-4 oz raisins, 2-4 T honey and 1 t cinnamon. Stir till combined. Fill cavities of apples. Bake at 350 degrees F for about 20-30 minutes (till brown). The inside of the apples turns into a sweet-tart autumns applesauce.

The aroma makes working with missing actors and confused activities directors a breeze! Serve warm - with a little cream if you like...

Or alone (my favorite).

Savor!

I woke up Saturday morning to something else to savor. Sam from My Carolina Kitchen. Her blog is as delicious as she is. While her focus is on food, she covers events, travel and drops enticing tidbits about the lives that she leads. Head over to her kitchen and be prepared to be enchanted.

I know many of you prefer to be "award-free," so if I err - be kind. I never think of these awards as being exclusive. There is no competition or voting and I feel the bloggers share these graces around.

Here are the rules as they were presented to me from Sam:

- Post the Honest Scrap award on your blog. Present this award to seven others whose blogs you find brilliant in content and/or design, or those who have encouraged you.
- Tell those seven people they've been awarded HONEST SCRAP and inform them of these guidelines and ask that they link back to you.
- Share "Ten Honest Things" about yourself.

Since I do not want this to be too much about me: I am a night person who writes better in the morning. I live with a lot of fur! I wish someone would pay me for worrying. Pasta and cannolis=magic. I grew up surrounded by Gresios but the Scottish and Russian/Austrians relatives were pretty amazing, too. There are things that I hoped would happen, never did happen and I am fine with that. There are things I never thought would happen that did happen and I am blessed by that. I am rediscovering poetry. I can watch a bird for hours. I wish I knew then....

I would like to share this with:

Bunny at Bunny's Warm Oven (I just made her delicious chicken)

Rebecca at Chow and Chatter for her flavorful recipes also build a healthy body

Ruth at I Love Flavour, Me! whose tales are as delicious as her food

Velva at Tomatoes on the Vine whose food has a natural grace

Miranda at My Food and Live Encounters who delivers mouth-watering recipes

Natasha at Five Star Foodie for constant inspiration

Janet at Meatless Mama for making me crave my vegetables

Fireworks: The Beginning of a New Life

Happy 4th of July! Having travelled the country visiting the history of America, this day sits deeply in my spirit. Trials and tribulations, the amazing Constitution, the bravery of my grandparents embarking on a journey across the Atlantic to start a new life - this day embodies the promise that is still the heartbeat of this country. Having had so many personal milestones occur around this day, it also sits in my heart. I have spent the 4th of July at the Statue Of Liberty, in Central Park- NYC, by various lakes but the most important one was the one at the State Capital in St. Paul, MN. Twenty-four years ago I had this friend I worked with, went on bike rides with and joined for an afternoon of cross-country skiing. We talked a lot. I mentioned the fact that I probably wasn't going to marry having grown tired of the dating game. He mentioned that he would never date anyone with whom he worked. It was a safe relationship.
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My sister visited in July 1985. It was after the 4th of July and it had rained the entire weekend. On July 7, 1985, the radio mentioned that the fireworks were finally on! My sister suggested getting friends together and going. With permission, she called my biking friend. My biking friend was thinking of going down to the fireworks anyway. His sister wanted to go and she suggested he call me. As it turned out, neither sister went. But my biking friend and I did go. We sat under the stars, listened to the Minnesota Orchestra, watched the fireworks, felt fuzzy and warm and comfortable and were dating by the end of the fireworks.
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On November 7, 1985 we got engaged. We were married on May 24, 1986. The self-proclaimed single and the guy who wouldn't date anyone he worked with! Since that night, we have had many 4ths together - at the Capital and on White Bear Lake, under the stars, complete with a small orchestra! We brought drinks, popcorn, blankets, mosquito repellent and my children. Who grew up going to White Bear Lake's Optimist Beach for fireworks. Gone are the days when my children sought shelter in our arms from the noise. What still remains is our annual barbecue for any family members available. I married into a traditional family. Tomorrow 25-34 members of Paul's family will gather for brats, turkey, watermelon and an enormous array of sides - provided by - everyone!


I usually make Panna Cotta with a berry compote. It is a way of honoring my heritage and the Day. But this year, I veered of course. One of my desserts is a Blueberry-Raspberry Pound Cake from Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life.

BLUEBERRY-RASPBERRY POUND CAKE (and sometimes strawberries, too!)
2 cups plus 8 T cake flour
1 t baking powder
1/2 t salt
5 large eggs
1-2/3 cup sugar
2-1/2 sticks (10 oz) unsalted butter, diced, at room temperature
2 T kirsch
1 cup blueberries - rinsed and dried
1 cup raspberries - rinsed and dried

Set oven rack to medium position. Preheat oven to 300F. Butter a standard 9 cup Bundt pan and dust with flour. (Nonstick may not need to dust with flour)
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In a medium bowl, whisk 2 cups plus 6 T flour, the baking powder and salt.
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In food processor blend eggs and sugar until thick and pale yellow - about 1 minute. Add the butter and kirsch and blend until mixture is fluffy - stopping once to scrape down sides of bowl. It may look curdled and that's fine! Add the dry ingredients and process to just combine. Do not over mix. Batter should be thick and very smooth.
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In a large bowl, toss the berries with the remaining 2T flour. Pour the batter over the berries and using a rubber spatula, gently fold to combine until all flour is absorbed. Pour the batter into prepared Bundt pan and spread it evenly across. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean - 1 hour to 1-1/4 hours. (Mine took closer to 1-1/4 hours.) Transfer cake to a rack and cool for five minutes. Carefully invert the cake out of the pan onto a rack (mine went straight to a dish) and cool for at least 20 minutes before slicing. Serve warm or at room temperature. Decorate at will - berries and whipped cream.

Red, white and blue - in honor of the day - a very special day for me in all ways. Happy 4th and a very special 4th to those who have given of themselves so I may enjoy my freedoms.

The Big C's in my life: Curbs, Chocolate and College Kids

It was nice to be organized. It was simply grand when I had my recipes ready to go by the computer. It was absolutely splendiferous to have menus planned. But that was before two college children came home complete with bags and boxes and furniture and found - we have no storage! So belongings lay all over the house.
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It was nice when I could park my car in the garage instead of three blocks away because the "powers that be" decided we needed curbs. (I need carbs - not curbs!) I no longer go to the grocer with a list of ingredients for a dinner to soothe the frazzled day. No. I go to the grocery store looking for light ingredients - light in terms of - how much weight do I want to carry for three blocks? On muddy roads with clean-looking curbs that must be carefully stepped over.
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Lest you think I am complaining (I am) - I am pretty indifferent to the boxes - for that means my children are home. I am a bitter little bird when it comes to these curbs! By the time I get home, I want a healthy light salad, some brie on sesame rice crackers, a glass of wine and then some decadent, rich, smooth, stick-to-your-hips chocolate. Chocolate is my balm, my consolation, my teddy bear, my heart.



I intended to post a trio of desserts. I thought I would have a lovely blog proclaiming the value of doing things in threes - was ready to quote Macbeth's three witches and then: I found I could not find the recipes! They are buried. So I shall make do with the chocolate one - because I found it.
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BLACK FOREST CHOCOLATE MOUSSE (from March 2002 PASTA)
1-1/2 cups whipping cream
1 can (16-1/2 oz - just buy a can!) pitted Bing cherries in syrup
1-1/2 T Kirsch (cherry brandy)*
1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips
Grated chocolate for garnish (optional)
Mint leaves for garnish (optional)
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In deep 2 quart bowl, whip cream to stiff peaks. Reserve 1/2 cup and refrigerate. Set aside larger bowl of cream.
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Thoroughly drain cherries (this takes a bit!) in strainer, reserving 1/4 cup of syrup in small saucepan; add Kirsch. Place chocolate chips in container of blender. Bring syrup mixture to boil and reduce slightly to 1/4 cup. Immediately pour over chocolate chips and blend till smooth. (Scrape sides of blender with spatula as needed.) With rubber spatula, scrape chocolate mixture into larger portion of reserved whipped cream and fold until streaks disappear. I loved doing this - it was so pretty and relaxing .... but I am veering off track. Maybe it was the wine that was relaxing but methinks it was the folding. Fold in cherries - reserving four for garnish. (I used about 3/4 of the cherries as I thought it might be too sweet with the entire can. Cover and refrigerate for 2-6 hours.
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Spoon into dessert dishes (stemmed are pretty!). Dollop with smaller portion of whipped cream and garnish with remaining cherries , grated chocolate and mint leaves.
Makes 4 servings (mine made six)
*Note: You can eliminate kirsch and use a total of 1/3 cup syrup from cherries - bring to a boil and reduce to 1/4 cup.


"Summer time - and the living is easy!" Gershwin had that right and the dessert is easy, foolproof and the perfect antidote when your street gets repaved with curbs.

Singing the road-construction-don't-need-no-stinking-curbs-summertime-blues

I wait all summer for this.

I drink my coffee in the morning by our blooms. And bid them and their fairies good-night in the evenings. While my "winter of my discontent" has ended (sort of), the "summer of my discontent" has just begun. "They" moved in last week.

Someone in White Bear Lake decided we needed curbs. Expensive curbs. Curbs that will keep our streets torn up for the duration of the summer. Curbs that require jackhammering, truck back-up beeps, steel clanging, house-shaking, dust-flying, high-pitched-machinery, migraine-inducing noise to begin promptly at 7 a.m. and continue for 13 hours per day. I sound like a bitter little bird, don't I? I'm on vacation for the week. I had thought about sleeping. The trucks start moving in between 6 a.m. and 6:30 A.M. I swear I'll never complain about bird-chirpings waking me up at 5 a.m. again.

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Well - there's always eating. Somehow when huge holes are being dug outside your living room window, a broiled piece of fish with a green salad is not what you are dreaming about.

Sweet comfort is on your mind. Sweet comfort in the way of a berry topped, almond cream tart. Now I will admit, I used too much mixture (the recipe made me do it!) and I shouldn't have used the 11 inch pie pan when it specifically said 9 inch - but you know - I just cast my fate to the wind and made it and we ate it. No regrets.

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ALMOND CREAM FRUIT TART (from PASTA MAGAZINE 2000 - yes, I save my magazines)

It looks intimidating with the steps - but if I can do it in my sleep-deprived frazzled state, anyone can!

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CRUST

1-1/4 cup graham cracker crumbs

1/4 toasted ground almonds

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1/4 melted butter

1 tsp vanilla

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ALMOND CREAM FILLING

1/2 cup whipping cream

1/4 t vanilla

1/3 cup powdered sugar

1/4 t almond extract

8 oz light cream cheese

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FRUIT TOPPING

4 cups fresh fruit (blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries)

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup corn starch premixed with 1 cup water (trust me you don't need that much - half will do - less than half)

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CRUST: Mix all ingredients for the crust in a mixing bowl. Press into a nine inch pie pan. You can use an 11 inch pie pan as I did - but all will be stretched thinner! Except for the berry mixture - that is abundant. Bake at 375 degrees F for six minutes. Cool for 30-40 minutes.

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ALMOND CREAM FILLING: Pour cream and vanilla in small-medium bowl. Whip till soft peaks form. In a second (larger bowl) whip cream cheese, sugar and almond extract until smooth. Using a large spoon, fold the whipped cream into the cream cheese mixture. Spread cream cheese mixture over crust in tart pan. Refrigerate for two hours (longer is probably better.)

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FRUIT TOPPING

Mix berries and sugar in saucepan until mixture bubbles. Then stir in cornstarch mixture (remember: less is more). Stir until mixture thickens. Remove from heat and cool on counter for about an hour. (One hour did not do it - it could probably be refrigerated after 30 minutes). Just before serving spread on top of Almond Cream Tart. Eat. Taste summer, sweet sun, light skies and the quiet before the trucks.

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Going...

... going ...

... gone!

Just like my street.

Why I love the subway, hate driving and had a cannoli for breakfast

7:50 a.m. - leave to drive my daughter to the bus stop. Beautiful day, on time, not late, not rushing, not speeding. Seat belt on. Obey all stop signs., red lights and yields.

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I need to say - I more than obey those things - I am manic about it. I have been hit:

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- at a stop sign

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- waiting at a red light

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Being slammed into while standing still has made me stay off the highways (a bit fearful now of errant drivers at high speeds), limited my work availability (I have to be able to get there avoiding highways) and a too-cautious driver. (Not long ago, a police officer had to "wave" me to go at a Stop sign when I wasn't sure who got there first - so waited. He was clearly annoyed).

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7:55 a.m. I am in the right hand lane of a 30 mph street so everyone else can speed by me in the left lane. Stop. Turn. Stop. Go. Police lights in back of me.

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7:56 a.m. Stop.

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Officer: "Do you know why I stopped you?"

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Me: "No." (And I had no idea.)

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Officer: "You made a perfunctory stop at the Stop Sign. You did not stop long enough. Do you have insurance?"

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Me: "Yes."

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7:57 a.m. (Going through glove box. Pulled out two insurance cards. Expired. Going through every oil change my husband has left in the glove box. 10 seconds pass.)

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Me: "I have it. I know it's here."

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(Officer gets call and goes back to patrol car. Claudia finds insurance card and hangs it out the window.)

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7:58 a.m. (Daughter calls boyfriend at bus stop to come and get her. The bus to the U leaves at 8:06 a.m.)

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8:03 a.m. Officer returns to car. With ticket. For not having insurance.`

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OFFICER: "I'm doing you a favor. You just need to take the ticket to the courthouse and show them your insurance card and the ticket will go away."

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8:04 a.m. (Aha! So Officer did see my current insurance card hanging out the window. And called it in anyway. As it turns out, there is no ticket for not waiting long enough at the Stop sign. It seems he felt obligated to write me up for something. He clearly did not want this to be a waste of his time.)

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8:05 a.m. Boyfriend picks up daughter.

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(Officer lets me leave with ticket for something that is erroneous and he knows it is erroneous because he gives me directions as to how to go about getting it expunged.)

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8:06 Follow daughter and her boyfriend to bus stop. Watch them park, run to bus and with a sigh of relief go home.

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8:20 a.m. Prepare broth and noodles.

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8:35 a.m. Have pasta and noodles for breakfast.

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9:00 a.m. Still stomping around the house muttering to myself. Call the license bureau. Must keep calling till the ticket comes through so I can have it expunged. (Each call is 15-20 minutes waiting on the phone. It takes 1-7 days for ticket to go through.)

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I wish they would end their "Menu" with, "We appreciate that you have no life and can wait for us to service you."

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9:15 a.m. remembering the olden days when customer service included the customer.
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9:16 a.m. Stomped around the house some more. Dog went out. Cats disappeared.
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9:17 a.m. Remembered the cannoli filling in the fridge.
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9:18 a.m. Prepared and ate a mini cannoli.
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CANNOLI FILLING:
One 14-16 oz. container of firm, whole-milk ricotta cheese
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp citron (I don't use citron)
1/4 cup small chocolate morsels (oh! I use more - do I ever!)
Optional: crushed pistachio kernels, chopped dried fruit; sprinkling powdered sugar over filled cannoli
Beat ricotta and sugar till combined and almost smooth (too smooth and it may be a bit runny - it will taste great but be liquid-y).
Beat in vanilla and Cinnamon and citron (if using). Fold in chocolate chips or dried fruit or pistachios.Fill just before serving (or shell gets soggy).

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9:30 a.m. Sat down to vent on blog. Sated. My chubbiness grows.
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I ponder life. I wonder why 30-something police officers feel compelled to speak to middle-aged women as if they were scattered five-year olds? Do they take a class on that? "Middle-aged women badgering 101?"
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In my chubbier state, I dream of subways. Crowded, smelly, dark and inviting. There are no stop signs where you need to count "One Mississippi, 2 Mississippi" before you go on. There are no bored police officers. Wait! I take that back! That brings me to a NYC memory of the time my daughter (dressed to the 9's in high heels and a long dress) needed to jump the turnstyle after swiping the E-Z Pass three times - without it going through - and we got approached - by a bored officer in the subway who wanted to have some fun ...

St. Joseph Day Zeppoles

Grandma's room on 166th Street in Jamaica, Queens was a wonderful mystery to me. Her dresser was a never-ending source of playthings. It was scattered with small statues of the Virgin Mary, pictures of saints as well as photos of her family that she had outlived. With my early actressy-aspirations, I would set all the statues and photos on the floor and set up scenes and move the saints around in my fantastical world. I would assign them characters and create dialogue in a multitude of voices as I went along. I am not sure Grandma would approve of me assigning the role of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz to the Virgin Mary. I was Catholic enough to know I should never assign the Blessed Mother the role of the Wicked Witch. But Grandma never complained that her statues and photos seemed to be rearranged after I visited. And I continued to imagine away my time in her home.

I remember early mentions of St. Joseph's Day - from my Catechism class and through Grandma, but it wasn't something we ever celebrated. I have grown more Italian with age. I realize that my specific childhood as an Italian-American in Queens, NYC is becoming extinct. My reaching out to my heritage is a way of laying groundwork for my children. I want them to know that America wasn't always chain stores and strip malls. I want them to be able to create a meal that was eaten generations ago and thus become acquainted with their past.

And so, I went to the grocer today knowing there would be pasta. And Aunt Fay's stuffed mushrooms. I pondered the fritters but didn't want to deep fry anything, so went with the St. Joseph Day zeppoles that are baked. I had a recipe that didn't always state amounts and ended with: "put dollops of the batter on a greased baking sheet and bake." Hmmm....is a dollop a heaping spoonful? 1/4 of a cup? More? I reached back remembering the zeppoles I had at the old St. Gennaro Festivals in Little Italy and decided to go with about 1/3 of a cup. My remembrances of the St. Gennaro Festival is truly from the olden days - they didn't hawk socks and purses then - you had zeppoles and sausage and peppers, there was a parade, Italian was spoken on the street... I always had a zeppole - a huge deep fried mass of flour that was put on a napkin that did not soak up the grease and covered with powdered sugar. By the time I went to the sausage and pepper stand I was a spotted spaniel with sugar firmly sprinkled in my hair and clothes. After eating the sausage and peppers, the grease from the sauages combined nicely with the sugar. I was a walking tasty treat.

As it turns out - these baked zeppoles are more like gougeres. (I have never found out how to use accents on the blog, so I apologize to my French word which sits as naked as the English ones.)

Also - they were huge.

But they were easy, are very tasty and you can fill them with cream, sweet cheese filling (such as for cannolis) or pudding.


ST. JOSEPH DAY ZEPPOLES: Preheat oven to 450 degrees F
1 cup water
1/2 cup butter
1 T sugar
1 t salt
Boil the above ingredients tell all is melted and dissolved. Remove from heat. Add:
1 cup flour - stir till well mixed, Add
4 eggs - incorporate and then add
1 t orange peel
1 t lemon peel
Drop by dollops onto greased baking sheet. Bake for twenty minutes - or till golden brown. Next time... my dollops will be a heaping tablespoon because when you fill it with cream ...

(cannoli cream in my case) it can be very, very filling. Using a pastry bag, you can fill the zeppoles. Or you can be a lazy bum as I was and simply cut them in half and put a "dollop" of cream in the middle, cover the zeppole and be done.

Grandma may not have loved me directing the Virgin Mary in various plays but she would have approved of the zeppoles and my bringing St. Joseph's Day to my home in Minnesota.

Happy First Birthday Journey of an Italian Cook

Late last night I realized that yesterday was the first birthday of Journey of an Italian Cook. Happily, I had these delicious Italian-Chocolate-Brownie-Muffins courtesy of Italialicious. I visited my son up in Collegeville yesterday for his birthday. I couldn't figure out whether to bring the Italian-Brownie-Muffins or the French Walnut Cake. I put it to Facebook and the answer came back 2-1 for the Brownie-Muffins. Of course, my son weighed in and that really was the deciding factor. I wound up with 20 of them so fourteen went up north for the the college kids and the rest stayed down here for my daughter and to celebrate the blog's first birthday. A fitting treat. And delicious. What I really loved was the aroma. You could smell the sweet chocolate before it touched your mouth. And the aroma has no calories.

I learned a lot in a year:

1. It is a good thing I went into playwrighting because I never would have made it as a food stylist or photographer.

2. Bloggers are some of the more generous, creative people in this world - and a special hurrah to the food bloggers.

3. My family is not as weird as my children think - many people's families have their most important memories entwined with food.

I started the blog as a way to create a memoir of recipes and memories for my family. The Italian childhood I experienced in Queens, NYC is light years away from their Midwestern home in White Bear Lake, MN. I wanted them to know about my great-aunts who brought a complete saurbraten dinner (and a pitcher of Manhattans) on two subways and a bus to take to my parents on New Year's Eve. They will forever be my three Magi.

I want them to know more about what is was like to be able to have three kitchens at your disposal. If dinner wasn't appetizing to my childhood palette, I could walk to Aunt Rose's or Aunt Fay's and get myself invited for dinner. I want them to someday say to their kids as my Uncle Rocky always told me, "Aren't we the luckiest people in the world? We're having pasta for Sunday dinner!" And through my blog, they can meet Uncle Rocky. And I have come full circle. As I have teased my mother and my aunts in the past about their habit of gnawing on bones, my children now have a wealth of stories about their own mother's odd habits.

I sit here with seeds remembering the tomatoes from last year and the years before. And there's always a story. I remember with glee when my son was given some hot peppers and he devised a recipe, photographed the finished product and sent it to me - with notes! And then there was the week before Easter, where I cooked up some Italian Wheat Pies. It was snowing, Christmas Carols were on and it sent me back to remembrances of Easter's past.

Blogs evolve. Eighteen months ago, I started a blog about my 20-odd years of working with kids in theatre. Some colleagues mentioned to me that if I didn't write my experiences down, I would never remember it. I now use it as part musings, part mentoring and a little bit of marketing. My sister and I recently started a blog (Cover Girls Cooking) as a New Year's Resolution. We would commit to cooking the cover recipe of Bon Appetit or Tastes of Italia (or both!) every month. It is a fun challenge - not knowing in advance what you are cooking. It is also a grand excuse to commit to an extended family dinner every month. And it lures my children home from college. And - you really only need to blog once a month - the night of the Cover Girl Dinner.

When I started this blog, I hadn't read any others. Oh the arrogance! Now, my goals for this blog are changing. Food will always be tied to musings and memories. I will always look back with great pleasure, but with the help of this amazing cyberspace community, I will also be looking forward.


Oh! And the Italian-chocolate-brownie-muffins. You will want the recipe. As you can see, I tried it out for you. And you can find it on Daziano's blog Italialicious.