A Rant at Ruhlman & A Sour Cherry Clafouti

I'm miffed at Michael Ruhlman.

It all began with this tweet by Ruhlman:

what summer looks like to me, photo by donna: http://blog.ruhlman.com/
10:07 AM Jun 25th from TweetDeck

The link to his blog featured a post titled Cherries Are Here! with a close-up picture of cherries on a tree and the caption "One of my favorite times of year, sour cherries are here! Thanks for gorgeous shots Donna. Time to make pie!"

Five minutes later, my friend Steph (aka Iron Stef) replied to Ruhlman's tweet with a link to my recent sour cherry cocktail recipe:

@ruhlman here's an idea! RT @barbaricgulp Sour cherry cocktail: Delightfully tart! http://tinyurl.com/n5sfs3 (via @chzmongerswife)
10:12 AM Jun 25th from web in reply to ruhlman

A couple hours later, Ruhlman posted this tweet:

cherries from a neighbors tree, pits pop right out, love the sour cherry cocktail idea. think i may need to come down with some writers bloc11:24 AM Jun 25th from TweetDeck

Noticed that he used the words the and idea--"love the sour cherry cocktail idea--as if he had read Steph's reply. I then replied to Ruhlman:

@ruhlman: Sour Cherry Limonade Cocktail http://tinyurl.com/m2j4xn
12:09 PM Jun 25th from web in reply to ruhlman

Later that afternoon, Ruhlman wrote:

it's writer's block time! have posted a sour cherry cocktail to confound those who insist on being productive! http://blog.ruhlman.com/
4:02 PM Jun 25th from TweetDeck

His previous "Cherries Are Here!" blog post now included a cocktail recipe similar to a mojito made with muddled cherries, rum, & simple syrup.

While it's not EXACTLY my recipe--which was inspired by Annie's recipe and which I clearly credited in my post--I think it's fairly clear from the Twitter updates that Ruhlman got the idea for a sour cherry cocktail from the link Steph sent.

So, I'm a little miffed that he didn't have the courtesy to credit either Annie or me for the inspiration. Did he plagiarize? No, of course not. But it IS nice to at least include a link to where you got an idea for a recipe even when you adapt that recipe.

I know that there are numerous websites out there that blatantly steal blog posts, pictures and all. I know that Ruhlman posted a different recipe, but it just seems to me that he got the idea from us. I would just like a shout-out from him, since he's a big guy and we're just wee little guys. Some blog love would be much appreciated.

ANYWAY...I still had cherries left and since I can't live on cocktails alone, I finally made a clafouti. Clafouti (pronounced kla-foo-TEE) is a French dessert of fruit--traditionally cherries--baked in a custard-like batter.

Sour Cherry Clafouti
(adapted from Ina Garten's Barefoot in Paris)
[See how I gave credit to my source?]

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature

1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
3 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 1 /2 cups heavy cream
2 teaspoons vanilla extract (or vanilla bean paste)
zest of one lemon
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons amaretto
2 cups pitted sour cherries, mixed with 2 tablespoons sugar
powdered sugar

• Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 10 x 11 1/2-inch round baking dish and sprinkle the bottom & sides with 1 tablespoon of the sugar.
• Beat the eggs and the 1/3 cup sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer until light & fluffy, about 3 minutes.
• On low speed, mix in the flour, cream, vanilla, zest, salt, & amaretto. Set aside for 10 minutes.
• Arrange the cherries (without any of their juices) in the baking dish in a single layer. Pour the batter over the fruit & bake until the top is golden brown and the custard is firm, 35-40 minutes.
• Serve warm or at room temperature, sprinkled with powdered sugar.

Books That Cook

A colleague of mine from the community college where I teach recently sent me an article from the March issue (which was all about food!) of College English. The article, "Books That Cook: Teaching Food and Food Literature in the English Classroom," by Jennifer Cognard-Black and Melissa A. Goldthwaite details how they designed literature courses around food and food writing.

It's essentially my dream course to teach...one full of reading about food and cooking, watching films about food and cooking, talking about food and cooking, and ultimately actually cooking and eating the foods you've read about, watched, and discussed. It gave me goosebumps.

Towards the end of the article, Goldthwaite writes:
A syllabus is a kind of recipe created from imagination, experience, and available ingredients—and with time constraints and audience in mind. As I do every summer, I read and cook, eat and think, call friends and colleagues for suggestions, and try to find or alter the recipe for my ever-changing course on the literatures of food.

Reading that made me feel jealous and sad. I want so much to be able to spend a summer reading, cooking, eating, thinking, and preparing for the upcoming semester. I have great ideas for my courses, but simply no time to prepare for them. Since I am only an adjunct at the schools where I teach, my summer schedule is completely full...I usually teach a creative writing workshop for middle school and high school students all day (from 9-3:30), then teach college classes four nights a week (from 6:30-9:30), and work elsewhere on the weekends. It's exhausting.

And, I've been doing that each summer for eight years. Anyone who thinks teaching is easy because we get summers "off" is mistaken. Not all teachers get summers off. Even those who don't have to teach during the summer usually still spend those months researching and preparing for the next school year.

Hopefully, I'll get a full-time teaching job (or any other job, for that matter!) for fall. That way, I can let my passion for teaching, reading, writing--and cooking--consume my summer.

Whine & Food

I must be in a funk or something, because everybody and everything is getting on my nerves...especially winery customers.

Observe:

“Hi,” I say to a younger couple as they come in the front door. “Would you like to sample some wine?”

“Sure,” the girl responds.

“What kind of wine do you like?” I ask.

“Everything.”

Oh, god. Here we go. As if I've never heard that before.

“Well,” I probe, “What would you like to sample today?”

“Um, do you have any sweet wines?”

“Sure, red or white?” I ask.

“Both.”

Ugh!

“Which do you prefer?”

“Sweet reds or pinks,” she says.

Of course.

“Well, I’ll start you with a red muscato from Italy.”

The girl looks at the clear bottle of bright, ruby-red colored wine, picks up her tasting cup, and asks...

“This is a red wine?”

Doh!

I seriously don’t know how to respond to people like that. After an entire afternoon of “we like it all” and “do you have any sweet wines?”, I finally snapped at a customer.

This one had brought in a small piece of paper with the name of a wine written on it: “Lambrewsko.”

“Do you have this?” she asks.

“Lambrusco? No. But a nice attempt at spelling,” I say.

“It’s spelled wrong?”

“Um, yeah. I’m an English teacher, so stuff like that really bothers me.”

They didn’t think it was amusing, but I didn’t care. It was my funk talking.

To top it off, both of the schools where I teach were in the news today. Students at both schools were arrested for making threats. One student brought weapons on campus (he was actually in my class last year!), and another tried to recruit someone to help him with an NIU-style attack.

These school shootings scare the shit out of me, so that doesn’t help with my funky mood.

So, what’s the best way out of such a funk?

Some soup. Some matzo ball soup.

I made a pot of chicken stock earlier this week; I simmered it in the crockpot for nearly 24 hours, producing a clear, flavorful broth. I wanted to make something to highlight the stock and not pervert it with veggies and noodles. So, I decided to finally try my hand at matzo balls.

And, they were a cinch! I used the recipe on the back of the matzo meal container as a guide:

• Stir together 2 tablespoons melted butter with 2 eggs, 1/2 cup matzo meal, & 1 teaspoon salt. Mix in 2 tablespoons chicken stock. I also added about a teaspoon of fresh rosemary & some cracked black pepper.
• Cover & refrigerate for at least 15 minutes.
• Meanwhile, bring a pot of water (about 1 1/2 quarts) to a brisk boil. Heat up chicken stock in a separate pot. You could cook the matzo balls in the boiling stock, but I did them separately in water to keep the stock clear & flavorful. I also set the stock to a simmer the whole time to reduce it a bit and concentrate the chickeniness.
  
• Form the matzo mixture into 1-inch balls, reduce the flame under the water to a simmer, & drop balls in. It should make 7-8 balls.
• Cover pot & simmer 30-45 minutes. You want them to be soft throughout, so check ofter 30 minutes or so. And by check, I mean cut in half and taste.
  
• Place a few matzo balls (they puff up a lot during cooking!) in a bowl & ladle in some hot stock.

The matzo balls were dense but light in texture, and the rosemary added a nice hint of flavor. Overall, it actually kind of reminded me of the garlic bread soup I made recently...though, with a much different flavor.

When I first started this cooking project last April, I made a list of the foods & dishes I'd never cooked before. Matzo ball soup was on that list. But, I can't believe I'd always thought this was going to be a difficult, labor-intensive thing to do. It wasn't at all!

But, did it help pull me out of my funk? It did. I believe there isn't much--be it a mood or a feeling, an illness or an ache--that a bowl of chicken soup can't soothe.

I bought rechargeable batteries for my camera today, but the damned things aren't charging correctly. So...to satisfy your voyeurism, here is a pic of matzo ball soup that I found online:

Mine pretty much looked like that, only in a red bowl.

A Rant & A Recipe

I'm trying to sell my house, and it's starting to stress me out. You see, my husband and I bought this house, our first, in September 2001. We weren't really looking for a house to buy; we just happened to see this one for sale by owner and decided to take a look. We were immediately in love with it.

It's a 100-year-old Victorian with stunning woodwork, tall ceilings, pocket doors, fireplaces, and loads of character. With over 3000 square feet, it was much too large for us, but we spread out and settled in.

Over the 5 years that we lived here together, we tore out carpet, painted rooms, installed new lighting fixtures, remodeled a bathroom, reworked the backyard, and started finishing the attic. It was a labor of love.

In the summer of 2006, hubby decided he wanted to look at new houses. I was hesitant, for a variety of reasons...one of which is that the house needed some work on the front porch. I was worried about it not selling with a porch that was literally falling down. Nevertheless, I agreed to look at houses and we eventually made an offer on one, a much newer & more expensive one. I was still hesitant and nervous about buying a new house before selling the current one, but hubby convinced me it would all work out.

It didn't work out. A few months after we moved into the new house, I moved back into the old one...where I've been ever since. I am still trying to sell it, and I am to the point of utter frustration...not because it isn't selling, but because I am tired of the comments people are making about it.

I KNOW the porch needs to be fixed! I KNOW the outside needs painting! I KNOW the wood floors aren't refinished! I KNOW all this, yet people keep pointing it out to me...as if I can't see those things myself.

If I could afford the repairs, I would do them in a heartbeat and stay here. I love this house. It's my home...the only "real" home I've had as an adult. Why can't people see that? Why do they insist on attacking it so harshly? It's not unlivable...far from it...it just needs a bit of TLC.

But, I can't afford all that work on my own and that's why I'm selling it. It's such a personal thing to sell a house. I am taking all the comments too personally, I know, but I've tried my hardest to make this into a comfortable home...especially now that I am back here, in different circumstances, with half of the furniture I used to have and with all the memories of another life here. And hearing about all the stuff that's wrong with it only makes me feel worse.

*sigh*

Anyway...for the agent open house today I made raspberry-almond blondies, a Martha Stewart recipe I adapted slightly, and they made me feel a little bit better!

You'll need:

9 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened (plus more for pan).
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour.
1 teaspoon baking powder.
3/4 teaspoon salt.
1 cup light brown sugar.
2 eggs.
1 teaspoon vanilla.
1 cup sliced almonds, toasted.
1 small container of raspberries.
Powdered sugar, for dusting.

• Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Line a buttered square baking pan with parchment paper (or foil), allowing 2 inches to hang over sides. Butter lining (excluding overhang) as well. Martha suggests an 8-inch pan, but I used a 9-inch stoneware baking pan.
  
• Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl, and set aside.
• Put butter and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment; cream on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add eggs and vanilla; beat until combined. Add flour mixture, and beat on low speed, scraping down sides of bowl, until well incorporated. Mix 1/4 cup almonds into batter.
• Pour batter into prepared pan; spread with buttered hands (or a rubber spatula). The batter is very thick, almost like cookie batter. Don't be alarmed.
  
• Scatter berries and remaining 1/4 cup nuts over batter in pan. Bake until a cake tester inserted into blondies (avoid center and edges) comes out with a few crumbs but is not wet. According to Martha, bake 55 to 60 minutes in an 8-inch pan, but I only needed 35-40 minutes for mine.
  
• Let cook a few minutes in pan before using parchment to remove the blondies to a wire rack. Cool completely, then dust with powdered sugar before cutting into squares.

These are really good, something I will definitely make again. I think they make a nice Valentine's treat as well!

Carbonara: Italian for "Fuck it, let's eat"

I've got the blues today. For a few reasons.

First, my holiday break is almost over. School starts on Monday, and I am not looking forward to starting a new semester. I am currently an adjunct at two colleges where I teach composition. That means that I am technically a part-timer at each school, even though I usually teach 5 or 6 total classes a semester. The life of an adjunct is a tiresome one, especially since the low income usually means the requirement of another job. Anyway, I work my ass off, don't get paid enough for it, don't receive benefits or tenure, and haven't had any prospects of a full-time position. *sigh*

Each semester I apply for a full-time job, and each semester I am passed over by someone who has more education (that PhD who can't get a professorship anywhere), more experience, more publications, more presentations, more kissassiness. Applying again and again and being rejected again and again is demoralizing, depressing, embarrassing, frustrating, and exhausting.

Second, I am having cat problems. My beloved Oliver, who I've have for fourteen years, has been having some litter box issues...as in refusing to use the litter box. As a result, he is quarantined to a small bedroom (one with no carpet, thank god) for most of the day. I took him to the vet last week; apparently he has another urinary tract infection. This is an on-going problem. Now, he is taking two medications for 30 days. And still pissing on the floor.

The kicker is that I am trying to sell my house (a 100-year-old Victorian in Alton, Illinois...if you're interested), and we all know that odor of cat urine does not help the resale value. I have a few other things to try to remedy the situation, but some of my friends are telling me to put the cat down (even though he's otherwise healthy).

Let's see, what else?

Oh yeah, that damned diet idea. No good. It lasted about a week, then the Prices invited me over for wine, then I broke down and ate toast (eek!) for breakfast, then I had fondue for dinner last night.

And, Tuesday marks the 12th anniversary of my mother's death.

So, in an attempt to avoid cleaning up cat piss again or thinking about other miserable shit, I spent the afternoon browsing around TasteSpotting (aka Food Porn Heaven). And I came upon this picture: from CookThink.

At that point, I said to hell! with the diet and decided to make carbonara for dinner (a dish I'd never made before).

But, just to make myself feel a little better about that, I washed a few loads of dishes beforehand.

Then, I cut up three slices of bacon. Crisped them up in a pan. Boiled some macaroni noodles (because I didn't have spaghetti). Beat up an egg with some cream. Added the cooked noodles to the bacon. Poured in the egg (off the heat). Added salt, pepper, garlic, & parmesan....

Voila! Macaroni & Cheese alla Carbonara


Just as I was sitting down with my bowl of pasta con bacon & happiness, my friend Ashby called and asked me if I was having a shitty day, and I replied in the affirmative, proceeding to tell him Oliver's pee-pee troubles. And my culinary prescription of "eat a bowl of carbonara and call it a day." According to Ashby, that was a perfect remedy since "carbonara" is Italian for "Fuck it, let's eat."

Upon hearing my tales of woe, Ashby invited himself and his wife (and their two friends) over for wine. How could I say no? He offered to bring tasty treats from Whole Foods and a "hilariously naughty CD to listen to while we get drunk." Their mission: To make me have fun.

All the carbonara in the world couldn't beat that.

Bad Boozey Brownies

We sell a hellava lot of sweet wine at the winery where I work on the weekends (check out that alliteration, y'all!). A. Lot.

"Hi there, Folks. Would you like to sample some wine?"

"Sure."

"Ok, what kind of wine do you like?"

"We like it all." Har-dee-har-har.

Contemptuous chuckle. "Well, what kind would you like to try today?"

"Everything."

Right. "Well, according to state law, we can offer 3 ounces of free samples. So, let me know what kind of wine you prefer so that I know where to start you." (This is known in the biz as "evoking the 3 oz. rule.")

"Anything sweet."

Of course. "I'll start you with our Illini White then; it's our best seller."

"Is it sweet?"

"Yes, it's our sweetest white wine."

"What about this one? Is it sweet?" Points to the chardonnay on counter.

"That's a dry white."

"It's dry?"

"Yep. Dry." Like your leathery skin. Use some sunscreen. Seriously. And wear some pants that fit your fat ass.

"Got anything sweeter?"

I think I can find a bottle of maple syrup lying around, if you'd like to guzzle that this afternoon. "Do you like chocolate-covered cherries?"

As if I even need to ask.

So, we have this Danish cherry wine called Kijafa that we pull out in emergencies such as that. It tastes just like a bottle of melted chocolate cherry cordials... It's gross, actually (though I was able once to stomach a shot of it in coffee, and I bet it wouldn't be half-bad over vanilla ice cream). People love it. They buy the shit out of it; they drink the shit out of it....then they get sloppy drunk (it's 16% alcohol) and go refill their insulin prescription.

Recently, a sampler bottle came adorned with a little "Taste the Possibilities" recipe booklet: Imported Kijafa, which is made with orchard-sweet cherries and European-style chocolate, makes martinis magnificent. Adds verve to vodka drinks. Compliments cocktails. And dresses up desserts.

Now, THAT's some alliteration!

In a fit of period-induced baking anxiety (and because I've been wondering if they are any good), I made a pan of Kijafa brownies this morning:

Combine 2 cups AP flour, 1/2 tsp baking powder, & 1/2 tsp salt in a large bowl.

In a small saucepan, melt 4 oz. unsweetened chocolate with 2/3 cup butter over low heat. Cool slightly; stir in 1 1/2 cups sugar, 7 tbsp Kijafa chocolate cherry (from that half-empty sampler bottle you borrowed from the winery the night before), & 3 slightly beaten eggs.

Stir chocolate mixture into dry ingredients. Fold in 3/4 cups coarsely chopped walnuts (if you're a sadist instead of a brownie purist).

Pour into greased pan. Bake @ 350 for 25 minutes.

Perform culinary cunnilingus on the mixing bowl and spoon. She's special, so take your time. It's not all about you.

Cool brownies in pan. Mix 3 tbsp Kijafa with 1 1/4 cups powdered sugar. Gross out at the pale pinkish beige color; think about how it reminds you of puke. Add a drop or two of red food coloring and stir until the somersaults in your stomach subside (alliteration!).

Drizzle the brownies with the now shockingly psychedelic pink glaze. Cut into squares. Take to the winery to give away because they are really not all that good...too dense and cakey with no distinguishable chocolate-covered cherry flavor.

I really need to get a digital camera. Like now.

I'd rather be cooking.

This whole "cook something I've never cooked before at least once a week" thing was supposed to help calm me, to give me something worthwhile to do, to make me feel accomplished.

It's not fucking working.

Instead, I am feeling anxious and stressed and overworked.

See, I am damn busy this summer...teaching a creative writing workshop from 9-3:30 each week day, then teaching college classes from 7-10 four nights a week, then working every weekend at the winery. The cooking thing...it feels just like one more thing I have to do...mostly because I don't really have time to do it.

But, I still want to. I have a growing list of things I want to make, but I simply don't have time to fit it all in (last night I made sesame soba noodles at 11:00, so that I would have something to take for lunch the rest of the week). Sunday evenings are about the only day I have time to cook, and by then I am too beat to stand in the heat of the kitchen for a couple hours. Next week, though, I don't have to teach the workshop, so I am going to try to cook every day.

That's my goal, anyway.

**********

Lately, I've been browsing around some food blogs. I've always loved reading about food, which is why I often thumb through cookbooks whenever I can. Some of the blogs out there have great stories, recipes, and pictures (if only I had a digital camera to take some pics of my food!). Check out my new "I eat" links.