Jenmenke

Road Warrior

Babble

The Cure for What Ails Me

Let’s call this a Meatless Monday lunch on a Wednesday, shall we?

I’m battling a bug. First it was a cold. Now it’s aches and a bad stomach. I’ve got a luscious container of leftover pot roast in the fridge, but looking at it somehow makes me feel even more ill.

How can that be?

What I want… What I want… Is…

I don’t know, but I’m hungry.

So I settle on Miso Soup. But I have no tofu. And I have no green onions. So I make do with edamame. And frozen chives.

It’s not the same. But the broth is good.

And when I am putting the chives away, I see my long-lost, frozen eggplant

It’s mild creaminess sounds perfect. So I heat some up to go with my soup

But it doesn’t satisfy like I thought. The char is too bitter for my intolerant taste buds today.

So I did what anyone in my position would do.

I ate half a sleeve of Thin Mints and laid down on the couch to watch Top Chef on YouTube. Suddenly I’m feeling a whole lot better.

The Ironman of Baking: Bon Appetit Ribbon Cake

I probably should have researched the whole thing a bit more before so casually tossing it out there.

“Oh, I was going to make you the Bon Appetit Ribbon cake… But if you want Baker’s Square, that’s OK too.”

Seriously. That is exactly how it went down.

Seriously. I could have gone to the Baker’s Square and bought a French Silk pie.

I’m not going to post the recipe for this. You can google “ribbon cake” and read all about it, find the recipe and read the many, many, stories about people’s experiences with this cake. It was the cover photo for the holiday issue of Bon Appetit this year. Apparently, it has been the most requested recipe in their history.

I just don’t get it. I hate baking, I’m not that fond of chocolate cake, and I can’t even eat dark chocolate. Clearly, though, I am in the minority. I knew Morgan would love it and it had been years since I made any fun birthday cake for her. I used to go waaaaay out of my way when they were little. Fondant… designs… crazy times! I’m too lazy to round up all the pictures. In fact, the best ones are missing from this set (the caterpillar and the tea pot come to mind), but you’ll get the idea.

Try not to be too put off by that moonscape StarWars one. That was, admittedly a monstrosity, but Charlie loved it, so it was all good.

Anyway, back to the ribbon cake: it wasn’t really hard. I mean, the recipe is exceptionally well-written. And while the techniques are unique  — I’ve never made a buttercream that involves pouring boiling sugar syrup into the eggs and butter — they were all very doable, with tips and notes aplenty. If you don’t know how to cream butter and sugar, you might be challenged, but for most who have baked a cake before, it wouldn’t be too intimidating.

It’s the time.

Let me repeat that again for emphasis: It’s the time.

This little effer took me over 6 hours. I came home from taking Morgan to her driver’s test at about 11 am (crying, I might add, because she didn’t pass and I felt like I ruined her birthday by letting her take the test on “the big day” — thanks, Pam, for your own story of how your son remembers none of the amazing things you did to celebrate his 16th, all because he failed the test on his birthday…) …and I never stopped making the cake until we left for dinner at about 7pm.

it.      was.     insane.

But she loved it. So it was worth it. It made for pretty picture-taking, too.

Jennie’s Ribbon Cake Notes.

The recipe makes three 9-inch layers. That was way, way more than we would ever eat, so I made a two-layered version, and cut the cake ingredients by 2/3.

Those are my calculations on the left. I was adding up all the white and dark chocolate I would need to buy. THIRTY FIVE OUNCES?! (that’s not including the white chocolate for the ribbons, either.)

I didn’t buy that much, thinking it insane. And I later lived to regret that decision, making Dave stop at the store to buy two more bars of semi-sweet chocolate so I would have enough for the glaze…

This was the first of many batches of melted chocolate. Note the bright sunshine, the glistening air of optimism! …Before the first bump in the road: folding in egg whites.

I hate folding in egg whites.

I find it a near-impossible task. The dense chocolate glob even harder than the few sponge cake varieties I have made with the same technique…

But I think I did it OK.

The layers turned out quite nice.

This was about the time the wheels came off. Up until then, I had been by myself, alternately calm, then weeping — yet single-mindedly committed to staying on task. And yes, the weeping seems quite ridiculous to me now, seven days later, but what can I say? It happened!

I was about three hours in, when my mom came down to chat.

I know now I’m not a multi-tasking baker. I can’t talk and pay attention to little things like “1/2 cup corn syrup, divided.” And I added the entire 1/2 cup to the melting white chocolate. Oops.

And I stopped taking pictures. Because I realized I was running out of time. (still no shower and I really needed a shower). And my mom was talking. And it was dark. And I hate using my flash. And I was trying so hard to pay attention. I’m a terrible listener under even the best circumstances.

Oh, I forgot one important thing: I had also decided, out of delusions of grandeur — and the need to try to emblazon the wonderful celebration of her 16th birthday that didn’t involve failing her test — to fry her some stupid cheese curds. She had been asking me all week if she could deep fry some stupid cheese curds my parents bought, and all week I had said NO.  (I hate deep frying smell, mess, hassle and abstain whenever possible.)

So I was also trying to do that on the QT while making buttercream, glaze and chocolate ribbons.

Oh, and did you know the cake had to be frozen for an hour? No. No, I did not. Thankfully, it was about 5 below that day and I was able to super-speed the process. So there is always that to consider when you are complaining about frigid temps.

I wish I had a picture of the glaze going on. It was pretty cool. But I was tilting and pouring and smoothing and pouring — all while trying not to drop the cake. I was unable to capture it on camera.

Above is the chocolate mixed with corn syrup. (Note the waning light as day becomes night…) After it cools, you knead it like dough and run it through a pasta roller. The dark chocolate worked PERFECTLY and was so cool!

And this is the white chocolate. You can see the difference, no? This is the batch I added too much corn syrup to. There was nothing I could do. I had no more white chocolate and I had already sent Dave to the store. Our local grocery store doesn’t even carry white chocolate. So I made due. As long as the cake was cool, the ribbons held their shape, but they wilted as it came to room temperature. All things considered, it could have been worse.

Ironically, the restaurant (Fogo De Chao) brought her this complimentary slice of cake

Which really looked a lot prettier and better than mine.

But isn’t it the thought that counts?

Or is it the time that counts?

Or is it the chocolate that counts?

Maybe it’s the memories that count.

I think that must be it.

[Aside: it is seven days later and today, at 1:30 pm CST, Morgan passed her test. Perhaps I will live to regret this day, but for now, we are all very happy!]

The Kids Cook Monday Four. Morgan Take Two!

Chanterelle Morel Mushroom with Pasta and Cream Sauce

No, we couldn’t find Morgan’s beloved Chanterelle mushrooms so she had to settle for *sigh* locally harvested and dried morel mushrooms that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.

It was a difficult sacrifice for me.

I’m all for Kid’s Cook, but I’m not necessarily “all for” depleting my morel stash.

But I had to try to jolly the surly, soon-to-be-16-year-old-girl somehow. And my benevolent offer of morels seemed to bring her out of her funk.

You see, I made this amazing and totally spontaneous Chanterelle mushroom and pasta dish for our second to the last Meatless Monday of 2010. Ever since then Morgan has been swooning about a repeat. And frankly, I’m not sure I could repeat it, even if I had all the ingredients. That’s the curse of a throw-and-go cook like me.

I’ve long given up trying to compete with any true food blogger. Those people freak me out. I imagine them with notepads and dirty pans writing every little thing down, dates, results, etc. Why don’t we ever read about their cats walking across the top of their rising bread loaves? (sorry Jeanette!) And where are their kids?

Because mine are constantly yelling at me from some distant room, requiring me to stop what I’m doing and wander around the house yelling, “What?!” What??!!” “MORGAN? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU YELLING MY NAME FOR??!!!”

…Only to walk back into the kitchen and completely forget that I was broiling the top of a potato dish. A few minutes later, I might lift my nose in the air like a dog and wonder, “what is that delicious smell?” Only to remember another minute or two later that there is something in the oven that is now blackened and smoking.

That, by the way, is also the curse of my new oven that requires the door shut to broil. That is a serious issue for me — since I can’t remember anything these days. That partially open door was always a good cue for me and now, alas, I have that cue no more…

So the idea of quickly and randomly throwing ingredients together for a last minute meal being repeated on memory alone is, sadly, impossible.

Otherwise I would have posted such a brilliant success here with the recipe.

Morgan doesn’t understand that about me, so it was with utter confidence that she asked me to write down the recipe for her so she could duplicate her new favorite meal, but with morels instead of chanterelles.

I tried.

She thinks she failed.

But I’m pretty sure it was the recipe.

Either that or the chorizo.

You know me, I’m always wanting to throw some tasty, fatty meat in there at the end. So I convinced her to dice up some chorizo to throw in with the mushrooms.

We loved it. She didn’t.

It started out so pretty, with golden sauteed shallots

I say she added too much pecorino and that’s why it got so rich and thick. (note: WE thought it was delicious.)

She says my chorizo ruined it for her.

Regardless if it was the recipe, the chorizo or the cheese, she handled the many stages and steps like a pro, boiling the noodles while the sauce bubbled away and the artichokes in the pressure cooker did their thing.

The sauce was finished a bit early, which thickened it more than she would have liked. (Again, note: WE thought it was delicious)

And when the artichokes were ready for the table, they made it there as mere shadows of their former selves, since the three others in the family simply can’t control themselves around artichokes… Lucky I got this picture before the mayhem descended with arms reaching in and butter dripping all over.

And here it is in all its glory:

She thought it was lame.
WE thought it was delicious.
She’s too critical of herself.
She obviously doesn’t take after me.
The poor thing.

The Coveted Panda Hat

Warning to Bennett (my brother): you will not find this post interesting.

To the rest of you: sorry ’bout that. I just take so much flak from my brother, I thought I’d save us both some time. His from reading it and mine from his play-by-play critique.

On with the show!

Also. I just want to say that right now, my office thermostat says 59.9 degrees. It feels like my office window is open. That’s what happens when we have a stiff west wind.

Sorry ’bout that, too. I just wanted to share my pain. You see, if you had read this year’s Christmas card, you will know that I am a heat-miser. I punish mostly myself (it’s the martyr in me), and have it bounce back up to between 66 and 68 when the kids get home from school. Ah the bliss of 3:30 pm when I warm back up and start peeling off layers.

I digress!

This is about the coveted panda hat that Morgan begged and begged and begged me for, oh I don’t know… around early November? You see, she spends her free time mostly surfing the internet in various outlets of debauchery: facebook, youtube, make-up and shopping. I know when she’s been “window shopping” online because my email invariably fills up with messages from her containing nothing more than underlined blue links directing me to her latest “must have” accessory or dress.

We live in Watertown. She has absolutely no need of dresses.

This falls on deaf ears. Because you know mom, there is a Sadie Hawkins dance coming in February…

I know what you are thinking, but you are wrong. In our quaint village, Sadie Hawkins is not what you remember it to be where girls wear their hair in pigtails and don outfits of cut-offs and plaid. It is the one and only formal dance of the year for underclassmen. Is that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard? Our homecoming ‘dance’ is akin to a bonfire in the gym after the football game and Sadie Hawkins is a formal dance — the one and only — that girls ask boys to.

It boggles my mind.

Honest to Pete. I just don’t understand how I get off on these tangents.

The panda hat. That panda hat.

So she was shopping in November, and sent me a link to this stupid panda hat on topshop.com. No, I don’t know what topshop.com is, but for some reason I remember that’s where it was. As usual, I ignored the email. A week later, I received another email with the same link.

Now, I could just delete these emails, since I never actually buy these things for her. But there is a small part of me that just can’t help but click them to see what insane thing she thinks she needs. Usually, it’s a strapless dress that hits mid thigh or some other random dressy thing. Cute yes. But why not a Patagonia fleece? Where did I go wrong in my parenting?

Doesn’t everyone want a Patagonia fleece?

I ignored the second email as well. Then, she yelled to me from the other room and said “Did you get my email??!” At which point I walked out there and said something critical and nasty about why would she want a stupid panda hat and to stop wasting her time online. When she didn’t drop it, I told her to put it on her Christmas list. Because, contrary to how stupid I thought it was, I’d be all for buying it for Christmas.

“They won’t have it then. You have to buy it now!”

“You can always find what you want. They will have it. Put it on your list.”

So, early December rolls around and I sit down to order the stupid panda hat.

And, they don’t have them.

Sold out.

Of course, I do not believe this, so I spend approximately two hours trying to find this stupid hat. It turns out that between the time Morgan earmarked it for coveting and early December, Katy Perry wore the identical hat somewhere, her picture was taken and the hat was identified as the “River Island Panda Hat available at topshop.com.”

Great.

Sure, I could buy it from the UK on ebay to the tune of $50 plus shipping.

Not.

So I did what any insane, multi-tasking, over-achieving, martyr-type, lapsed-knitting mother would do.

I knit one myself.

I love knitting. But I have no one to knit for. I don’t wear scarves, I already knit mittens for everyone, I’ve made several felted bags that no one uses, and sweaters are too ambitious . The opportunity to knit was exciting!

I bought some cream yarn, used some brown yarn I had, found an online hat pattern and scrutinized the itty-bitty panda hat photos on the internet to copy the pattern for the face.

I thought for sure Morgan had figured out what I was up to since I always forget to close the windows in my browser and clear the history. She’s on my computer all the time. Not to mention the fact that I was suddenly knitting again.

Anyway, aside from my very poor attempt at integrating the face color into the main color (I had never done that before and the eyes and nose sort of pucker because the yarn in the back was too tight:)

it really turned out cute. A little big, but then I’ve got the world smallest pin head, so it was hard to truly gauge.

We don’t wrap our Santa presents, so when she came downstairs on Christmas morning, it was the first thing she saw: “Panda!”

Then she said “You’re such a liar! You said you couldn’t find one anywhere!”

“I couldn’t.”

“But you did!”

“I didn’t.”

“Mom, you obviously did.”

“I knit it.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did!”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

And so it went. Seriously. That is practically verbatim. She loves it and tells everyone “My mom knit this for me.” I still think it’s stupid.

But it was the best Christmas gift ever.

(For me.)

Merry Christmas to All!

Thanks to anyone who takes time out of their busy lives to stop by and read this drivel. I am truly honored, because I know how hard it is to carve out time in my own day to read other’s writings.

It’s Christmas and WE MADE IT!

(I mean, I think I made it. I’m actually writing this on Christmas Eve, so I guess I can’t be 100% sure I made it. But that’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?)

These last few weeks/months have been a whirlwind of ugh. I’m trying to enjoy this time in my life, but honestly, it’s just too crazy. I’m not “living in the moment,” I’m living in the minute. I can’t even think about tomorrow or even what going to be happening tonight. I just tick through the day reacting to whatever needs the most attention at at that very second.

And I know I’m not alone.

We live in crazy times.

So enjoy Christmas, if you can. I’ve tried hard to focus on the true gift of Christmas this year. I was far from successful, but I was better than last year. And hopefully I will be better next year. It’s one foot in front of the other and…

Oh CRAP! I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT ABOUT THE BREAD DOUGH RISING IN THE REFRIGERATOR!

And with that stunning revelation of hope, I leave you with my 2010 Christmas Card. It is far from my favorite, but it’s what I could manage at the time.

My cousin Kev told me that he got my card and started reading it and was like “What the heck? What is she talking about? This is totally random.”

“And then,” he said, “It all came together at the end. It was brilliant.”

Brilliant. Brilliant! Obviously, I couldn’t agree with him more. Finally. Finally. Someone besides me has called me brilliant.

The best Christmas gift of all!

Merry Christmas!

It’s Christmas Eve!

Christmas Card Retrospective 2006 – 2009, aka “the Really-Big-Pictures” years.

OK, well, I lied. But not intentionally. 2006 was not a really big picture. It was a really bad picture. I look like an 80’s rock star. A male one. Dave looks like an ax murderer. But the kids looked OK, I guess.

I’ve never understood the photos of just kids. All you people who just send photos of your kids. You drive me crazy. I want to see YOU! My friends! And compare age lines and gray hairs.

You take all the fun out of Christmas.

Or maybe you are just scared of sending a bad picture. But when you got people like me, willing to send out photos like this, how bad can it be?

It was a really stupid card. Not funny at all. The concept was good. But the delivery lacked clarity.

You probably can’t read the notes, which is probably a good thing. It was just supposed to be my “to do list” starting in November and going into December, all the while trying to find a good family photo. You know, to justify my sending out cards with the photo I used.

Anyway, let’s not belabor it. It was a miss. Let’s move on. Things do get better.

2007 was a great picture. I couldn’t recreate that if I tried. It was just a self timer on a hike in Wyoming. Dumb luck. I think it’s my favorite photo. There’s always a lot of yelling at me as I situate the camera on some wobbly rock or stump and run back to get in the picture. They just don’t realize how talented I am.

I had moved on from writing new lyrics to just picking sort of a “theme song” and wrapping the letter around it somehow. This letter is probably one of my top three personal favorites. As I sit here typing this, I can remember the very conversation I was speaking of. So in case you were wondering, yes, it was alllll true.

2008 was another self-timer, summer vacation, family photo. A true miracle of epic proportions. We were in Glacier Park at the top of a mountain at a tiny lodge that you can only hike to. I had just dunked my entire head into a glacial stream to cool off. And my hair dried like that! If that isn’t a miracle of epic proportions, I don’t know what is.

And now for the letter. My all-time favorite letter ever!

It was brilliant. A work of art. But here’s the sad part: not everyone received it. The Chief Controller, deeming it too sensitive for the general public — and even some of our members — withheld it from select recipients. So reading it here is actually, I don’t know — maybe against the law? It’s like WikiLeaks!

Seriously though. He took the letter out of some people’s cards. …But you’ll read all about that in 2009. I really don’t give the guy a break ever. Poor Dave. And I really mean that. I’m a true trial.

But a fun one.

2009 was a cool picture just by accident. Who knew regular old white lights would look like THIS out of the camera?!

(I love that bit at the bottom of the photo. We do look scarily close, don’t we?)

As you can see, I stole the format from the 2007 card. I figured no one would remember. Of course that was before I ever thought that I’d have them all lined up in a row on a blog post. Oh! The things we can think!

And to think this all started with the Fiesta Movement. The blog, I mean. Not Christmas. 2010’s cards brings that full circle. But you will have to wait until Christmas morning to open that package!

Tonight is a special night for quiet and rest. For snuggles and love. For peace and forgiveness. For unto US a CHILD IS BORN!

Merry Christmas Eve!