Let Mother Nature Eat Cake!

At the end of April, Anchorage starts looking a bit like spring.
Snow banks disappear, and spring flora start making their debut. Families trying desperately to pretend it's already summer flock to the city's brown-grassed parks. The wild geese return and with their early morning squawks, seem to be signaling the arrival of spring.


At least all of this was true until this past Friday, April 25th when it dumped more than a foot and a half of snow.




The wintry scene that resulted would have been enchanting... in January. But in April, coming upon May, I could not embrace the winter wonderland with open arms.




What is the former Californian Madwoman to do in the face of such snowy adversity? She takes to the oven!




So I decided to pass the climatically confused weekend by baking cakes. The first was for the end-of-year taiko drumming potluck and performance. It has been an awesome year of taiko, with the exception of the cancellation of this year's Cherry Blossom Festival. To make amends, I made a cherry blossom cake and in the spirit of our Tomodachi Daiko group (which literally translated means, "Friends taiko drumming"), I included the character for "friendship" printed on the group's t-shirts and paraphenalia.




Those who know me well understand that it is no secret that sometimes I resort to cake mix, particularly when I have complicated decorations in mind. My favorite for this purpose, which I heartily and frequently recommend to others, is the Pillsbury Deluxe German Chocolate Cake Mix. Why Deluxe? It has pudding in the mix and produces a very tender cake. Why German Chocolate? It is much more subtle than a standard chocolate, a little less sweet perhaps in anticipation of its intended, very sticky sweet pecan caramel topping (which I rarely prepare). I find that the best complement to this cake is a simple, lightly sweetened whipped cream frosting. The sooner the frosting hits the cake, the sooner it seals in all the moistness. For this application, I stabilized the whipped cream for decoration using gelatin.


Stabilized Whipped Cream Frosting:


1 cup whipping cream
1 T unflavored gelatin


Dissolve gelatin powder in small amount of cold water in a glass measuring cup. Let stand for a few minutes. Heat cup in saucepan of boiling water, stirring until all gelatin is dissolved. Drizzle over whipping cream as you are whipping. Should yield about 2 cups.

Like any baking by the Madwoman, there are bound to be irregularities, and the Cherry Blossom cake was no exception. I had baked the cake the night before but did not unmold it until the day after. Bad idea. As a result, I had to carefully pry the cake out of the pan. I also may have overmixed the batter because the cake yielded a very tender crumb which was delicious to eat, but hard to work with in terms of structural integrity. That's why the cake in the photo is a slightly truncated 9 X 13 (I lost the top inch to disintegration during excavation). The tender crumb was seemingly so disastrous that I almost scrapped the whole cake. But the Madwoman is nothing if not resourceful in last-minute fix-ups.


The second cake was to celebrate Staff Appreciation week at my office and did not suffer as many irregularities. The recipe called for 3 layers of 9 inch rounds, but since I had only 2 such pans, I decided to just use 2 and then split them for a 4 layer cake. The closest I got to an irregularity in this endeavor was the batter was fairly stiff and hard to spread out evenly. For whatever reason, the cakes came out somewhat lopsided. I could have sliced off the tops for evening, but I hate wasting cake and these days, eating mistakes is a very fattening last resort. So I just sliced the layers and hoped for the best, having come to terms that if you want to make a pretty homemade cake, nothing says homemade love than a little lopsided layer.

Monkey See, Monkey Do!

Last night Jaja and I stayed up until midnight to make a birthday cake for my roommie who turns 28 this week. For the last four years, I have made her some form of a commemorative "G" cake in honor of the her name. The first year, it was a simple cut-out from a 9 X 13 pan. This year, I wanted something with a little je ne sais quoi, so the FBI agent in me figured out how to secretly procure her mother's phone number. When I asked G's mom what kind of cake G might like, to my surprise, she said, "You should bake her a monkey cake!"

Apparently G was very fond of the monkey character Zephir from the Babar elephant series. In fact, little stuffed Zephir still resides at her mom's house in Minneapolis. Judging from how quickly G's mom answered my question, I figured this must be her traditional birthday cake, but out of curiosity I asked when was the last time she made it for G.

"Oh I guess she was about six years old."


Perfect! Nothing like a bit of nostalgia to ring in a new birthday. I won't go into the details of how much butter, how many eggs, or how much buttercream frosting ended up in our bellies, but suffice it to say, making a monkey cake is a bit of monkey business. As late as it was last night, Jaja and I had a blast decorating what we both agreed was the best monkey cake we'd ever made.


Tonight, we will eat monkey!

The Art of the Manly Pie

This Easter, I had the pleasure of tasting one of the most delicious apple pies I have ever eaten in my entire life. Tragically, I almost missed the experience because after gorging myself on holy ham, I had little room left for dessert.

But who can pass up a slice of homemade pie?

Apparently not I.

What was supposed to be an obligatory taste of dessert turned into an unexpected love affair. This pie was like a warm embrace... like finding an unexpected meadow of flowers in the middle of a dreary hike. Yes, I do believe the clouds parted and divine light shined through as I ate this pie.

Did I mention woodland creatures came out of the forest to greet me?

Suffice it to say, it was good pie, good enough that I ate a second slice even though I was stuffed to the seams with holy ham.

The subject pie was provided by Minty Monty, a self-taught maker of pies. I immediately contacted him to see if I could learn his secrets or better yet, serve as an apprentice during his next pie-making session. Monty was gracious enough to agree to the latter. His email confirming our pie-making session summarized our goals aptly:

"We shall make pie. Then we shall eat pie. "




If you're thinking this looks like pie porn, it is.
















We also made a commemorative customized turnover with extra crust scraps.




Thank you, Minty Monty, for the best apple pie of the year.

Holy Ham!

It had been five weeks of Arbitrary Vegetarianism, many days full of challenges and introspection. In these last five weeks, I've looked Salami, and Brats, Lamb Chops in right in the eye and managed to stand firm.

So what happened on Sunday?

On Sunday, the Lord was resurrected.

And maybe I ate a whole lot of Ham.

Although I knew that there would be ham at Easter, my consumption was not premediated. I was helping Jaja out in the kitchen and was tasked with dealing with the glaze. I dutifully juiced some lemon and orange into a bowl of marmalade and then proceeded to heat the mixture until it was nice and thick. Then I went over the ham and drizzled the hot luscious glaze all over that big hunk of wonderful meat.



You can see where this story is going.

After all, am I not human?

After getting that close and personal with an Easter Ham, is it reasonable or even possibly fathomable that I would not partake in the proper celebration of the Lord's resurrection? My mind started racing as I tried to squeeze this large hunk of ham into one of my exceptions. Definitely not a broth/juice. Definitely not wild game. Definitely not a Small Bit (my favorite exception)... unless you're an ogre. Unless you're an ogre!

Oh wait, I'm not really an ogre.

As I ran these scenarios in my mind, I wondered why I didn't see it fit to have a religious exception. I mean, Religious Exceptions are some of the most established and widely accepted exceptions out there.

Oh right, I'm not really religious.

Years ago, while hiking to a church at the top of Marseilles, I had an epiphany that the physical hunger of my bottomless tummy was actually symptomatic of a deeper hunger - a sad spiritual emptiness. Suddenly it became all too clear to me that it was my a-religiosity that compelled me to try and fill myself with worldly goods, and yet, I knew that fulfillment could never be truly had this way. At least this was my explanation for why my a-religious self was weeping during church services conducted in a language I couldn't even understand. This revelation was all fine and good until I left the church and then immediately started wondering what was for lunch. Mu and I ended up eating a large platterful of raw seafood:



Doesn't quite look like spiritual emptiness, does it?


So back to Easter. What better way to fill an empty aching soul than with a huge hunk of ham? Suffice it to say, my soul was very very full this Easter, so full that I wish I had been wearing elastic pants.


But then again, what's a religious holiday without a little commemorative sin?

So Big!

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a taiko fundraiser benefiting the local Japanese immersion program. One of the highlights was the Roll-Your-Own-Sushi booth. That's right, for four raffle tickets, you could make your own California roll, with the aid of the friendly Japanese people staffing the booth. First, we were provided with a sheet of nori with sushi rice. Then, there was a plate full of toppings (imitation crab, cucumber, egg, roe, avocado) to add. After that, with a quick squeeze of a bamboo mat, presto, I had my own personal California roll.

When I got to the part of the station where the nice Japanese lady cuts your sushi, she lifted her knife and remarked, "So big!" I was a little embarrassed because I was with a friend who clearly heard the comment. My roll didn't seem incredibly large to me - I just wanted all the toppings, but I didn't want any gaps. (It's just terrible when a bite of roll is missing a key piece of avocado, for example.) The Japanese lady kept saying stuff to me in Japanese, but I just smiled and nodded. If you allow a Chinese person into a roll-your-own-sushi line, you have to expect that you are going to get some "so big!" rolls.

The solution: make your own rolls at home, where you can yell, "So big!" out loud freely! With no shame! In your underwear!

(*Note: I did not make the below-depicted sushi wearing only underwear, but you get the point. )

"Govern a country..."

"... like you cook a fish. Do not overdo it." - Lao Tze.

The answer: filet of halibut steamed with Chinese black beans, ginger, and scallions.

Treat fresh fish gently, and it will never disappoint.

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

There's nothing like having ox tail stew for the first time, a long-neglected cut of meat. A dish for only those with Patience and Fortitude, it takes at least two hours to simmer and some degree of social boldness to pick the meat off the bones.


Also introducing for the first time, Emergency Company Noodles:

As usual, headcount was entirely uncertain until hours before dinner, and as usual, I feared bellies would leave still hungry. So I whipped up some seafood chow mein, aided by the use of Korean instant ramen. The package yields al dente ramen noodles (decent level of hi-gluten flour), one packet of red hot seasonings, and one packet of dehydrated vegetables -- all helpful ingredients in a pinch. I enhanced by adding shrimp (sliced lengthwise to double the quantity); dried shrimp, dashi, shiitake mushrooms (to add flavor); and baked tofu strips (to add bulk).

The result? Empty plate, hopefully full bellies.

Food From the Mothership

Little Bro says Mom's vegetarian potstickers taste like meat dumplings, the ultimate compliment.

Chinese Hug in a Bowl

Winter blues got you down? Nothing like a steaming bowl of homemade wontons to ease the soul. Wonton soup is very popular restaurant fare but almost always made badly. Outside the home, you'll likely get (1) too few wontons, (2) wontons of insufficient meaty bulk, (3) deadened artificial-looking broth and (4) my worst nightmare - flappy wonton skins. The home version is a subtler, more delicate affair. After all, wonton soup should be a restorative experience, not a slap in the face.














WON TON BROTH
½ t dried shrimp
1 can chicken broth
leaves of nappa cabbage, cut lengthwise
1 stem of pickled mustard green, chopped
1/8 t dashi
3-4 slices of ginger
soy sauce to taste
salt
splashes of rice wine
3 T scallions (chopped)
1. Saute ½ t dried shrimp until aromatic. Add chicken broth, dashi, pickled mustard and enough water to fill pot halfway. Add salt and soy sauce. Bring to boil.
2. Add wontons. Bring back to boil once. Add ¼ c cold water. Bring back to boil again.
3. Add scallions. Serve hot, immediately.

The Art of Leftovers

Although the blogging has been quiet, the Tummy has not. Sometimes I'm too busy eating to write it all down. Two weeks ago, when eight of my favorite people came over for potstickers, I discovered the hard way (namely in the form of frozen foods hurling toward my toes every time I opened the refrigerator) that my freezer is overstocked. I am a hoarder by nature, and my freezer is definitely no exception.

So I resolved to eat out my freezer, slowly, mostly in order to make space for future hoarding. It turns out it is no easy task. I have Costco-sized bags of frozen vegetables, fish and berries from yesteryear, and all kinds of irregularly shaped items that make it hard to close the freezer door without risk of injury. Years ago, when I was a more accomplished Type A personality, I kept an Excel spreadsheet labeled "FREEZER INVENTORY" on my refrigerator door. It was a good idea because my freezer now has become some kind of fantastical, mysterious Narnia - full of items such as eel, home-cured salmon, wontons, potstickers, berries of many varieties, bagels, shrimp, bread, frozen veggies, meats of many sorts... the list goes on and on.

In step with my renewed dedication to eating what I've made rather than making more food, today's lunch was comprised wholly of leftovers - a little bit of leftover rice, leftover wonton soup (now minus any wontons which were greedily gobbled up days ago) with leftover spinach from an undressed spinach salad with walnuts, and leftover meatballs made from leftover dumpling filling. I had originally planned to have the leftover wonton soup, but aside from the wontons that formerly populated the soup, it was completely vegetarian. I know my own tummy well enough to predict that I could not be satisfied with just vegetarian soup. The rice served to add some bulk and body to the soup, and by dropping two happy frozen meatballs into the mix, finally I had a well-balanced lunch.



There are many who turn their noses up at leftovers, but a leftover meal can be a more complex second life to your food, if treated properly. Think of leftovers having gone to a better place (the worse place being the trash). With the addition of chopped fresh scallions, I daresay I could have served this soup to normal people (myself being an exception). The only miscalculation was the occasional stray walnut that had made its way from its first life in a salad to its second life in a soup. Walnuts don't really work well in soup.

Nevertheless, until the freezer avalanche at home subsides, I look forward to more cobbled together meals bringing back pleasant memories of meals of yesterday.