The Tapioca Disaster...

(from wikimedia, http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:Tapioca_pearls_and_cranberry_seeds.jpg)

So I alluded to this story during my last post on figs. This is easily one of the more embarrassing things I have done in terms of cooking, particularly with my background being in the physical and natural sciences.

I used to LOVE tapioca when I was little. My mom would make the Jell-O cook and serve kind, and I thought it was the best stuff on the planet. Last winter when Tony and I were in Missouri for Christmas, Tony's mom and dad introduced me to the Mennonite store 20 minutes away from their house. (I would like to point out that there house is in the country, and their next door neighbors live far away. I wish I lived there :(...) Anyway, this store is like a little piece of heaven for me. It has locally made goods, such as jams and jellies, along with bulk items like whole wheat pastas, spices and teas. Walking along one of the aisles, I saw it. A massive bag of tapioca, for about $2. The recipe was on the side, and I was good to go.

Fast forward to about a month later. Tony had staff duty (guarding the barracks) and I was home alone. I decided that I was going to make tapioca for the both of us, and it would be a nice surprise for Tony after he had worked a long (ridiculous) shift.

Everything was going fine, until I learned the hard way about how a solute (in this case, protein) effects the boiling point of a solution. This is easy stuff. Milk is not water. One should never, EVER "boil" milk on the highest stove setting. *Flashback*:

"The "9 or 10" setting on your stovetop should really only be used for boiling water..."

"Yep. Got it, mom."

Needless to say, I wish I had a picture of the incredible catastrophe that occurred. It was frightening. It was gruesome. It was...well...milky :(. The milk boiled out of control, even after I removed it from the heat. Thankfully, there was another burner open for me to place it on. OH, WAIT. No, there wasn't another burner open, because we used to have the teeniest, tiniest kitchen on the face of the planet. So, the milk, boiling out of control, had to be held above the burner (because Lord knows the darn sink was still full of unwashed dishes). Then, there was smoke. Milk, particularly milk with some sugar in it, burns like a champ.

So there I was, holding a heavy pot full of boiling milk at arms length, coughing, gagging, probably (definitely) thinking/yelling very bad things. The damage that this stupid experiment-gone-wrong had done was pretty vast, so I did what any hard working, diligent, loving wife would do: leave it there until Tony came home.

Noooo, not so he would clean it up (though he helped), but instead so he could see the awesomeness of the milk+tapioca explosion that our kitchen now was.

Tony walks in the door:

"Hey Pook, is something burning???"

"Um, nothing's burning...now..."

"Really? It smells like fire..."

"Yeah...I know.."

My strong, handsome, loving husband walked around the corner into the kitchen.
"What the..... (*&^%#??!!??" (If you are Tony's momma or grandma ryno, feel free to insert "heck" in here...everyone else, use your imagination...)

As my strong, handsome, loving husband walked around the corner, he saw a sight no man should behold: a milk bomb that his wife couldn't bear to witness all by herself. Needless to say, we used roughly an entire forest of paper towels to clean the milk from off the stove, refrigerator, cabinets, floor and sink. Then, we lifted off the burners to clean underneath, and found the other 3 cups I had misplaced. Did you know that milk+burnt-on stuff from 8 tenants ago= gray sludge that smells like feet? I owe Tony for that one, because while I was busy dry heaving in the corner of the apartment next to the hole where the rats got in (it was really not a nice place...but that's an entirely different story), he cleaned up that part of the mess.

Low and behold, I've never put milk on the stove again and turned the heat to above 4. I don't really care if it takes an eternity, but I suppose one wouldn't after witnessing milk Hiroshima in a 5'x2' kitchen.

-Lisa-

Figs...

I'm glad I am completely incapable of updating this blog regularly, due to the incredible awfulness of being a graduate student. I made these figs MONTHS ago. Literally, I made them back in September, took photos and then realized that my life has been reduced to working and sleeping. My family assures me that this is true in all cases of being an adult. I'm pretty sure I'd be happier if Tony and I lived in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of cows, but I bet even then the grass would be greener somewhere else. This has been a depressing realization.

Anyway, I did use figs, and I did take pictures. Now, I finally have time to write about it :). For me, the verdict for this particular fruit was only ho-hum. I didn't really enjoy them, but I wasn't totally appalled. Perhaps I should have prepared them another way, but I guess I'll have to try again next year. They are "good" by themselves, just eaten raw. The seeds are crunchy and tiny and it does remind me of Fig Newtons, although those are made with dried figs instead of fresh.

Honey-Cardamom/Cinnamon Roasted Figs

Reagents:

4 Figs
2 Tablespoons of honey
Cinnamon
Cardamom*
Squeeze of lemon juice

*Cardamom is one of my most favorite spices. Ever. I bought it in bulk, which is why it's in a "homemade" jar.

**Also, note my super-cute glass pumpkins in the background. They match our 1980s glass table, baby.

Procedure:

This is REALLY, painfully easy.

1. First, preheat the oven to 375 F. Wash and cut off the top of the figs, getting rid of the stems.

2. Then, cut the fig about 75% down the center into faux-quarters. You want the fig to remain held together at its base.

3. Place the figs carefully in baking dish. Squeeze just a little bit (maybe like a quarter of a teaspoon) of lemon juice on each one. I have absolutely no explanation for why I did this, it just seemed like a good idea. In the end, I couldn't even taste a hint of lemon, but there was a lot of juice in the dish to re-drizzle the figs with, which was a good thing.

4. Pry the figs open slightly, so the center is sufficiently exposed. Drizzle about a half a spoonful of honey into the center of each fig. Don't bother resisting licking the spoon, it's just too good.

5. Sprinkle cinnamon or cardamom (or a mixture of both) on the figs. I made two cinnamon, two cardamom, because I wasn't sure if Tony would eat the cardamom flavored ones. Turns out he ate everything. Hah. Shouldn't have worried about that.

6. Place the figs in the oven to roast for about 15 minutes. I checked on mine every 5 because I'm neurotic and paranoid I will burn the house down. I plan on telling a cooking disaster story for my next post, and it involves tapioca and fire.

Overall, I think that these figs turned out well. I also think I don't really like figs, which was an issue at the time, since I bought these at Costco and had 20 others I needed to think of something to do with. For the most part, I was just lazy and ate them raw :).

Happy almost November!!!

-Lisa-

Frozen Strawberry-Blueberry Pie

Yum. There is nothing better than a creamy, fruity pie on a graham cracker crust (that I didn't have to make). This pie lasted us a while, primarily because Tony didn't really eat much of it. I did find through a lovely trial and error experience that this pie MUST be stored in the freezer. It can remain in the fridge for a few hours, but the ingredients will separate into a watery ick-filled mess. Then, you'll have to mourn the two slices you could have had, or perhaps attempt to eat the top part and realize your decision was a grave, disgusting mistake.

I adapted this recipe from a cooks.com recipe.

Reagents:

1 single serving carton of strawberry yogurt
1 single serving carton of blueberry yogurt (there are 2 in the picture, because that's w
1 8 oz container of Cool Whip
3/4 c. chopped fresh strawberries (and one whole strawberry for garnish)
1/3 c. pureed blueberries
Pre-made graham cracker crust


Method:

1. Mix about 1 1/2 to 1 3/4 cup of the whipped topping with the strawberry yogurt until blended.

*Yes, this looks dreamy because that's the way it ACTUALLY LOOKED! Okay. Maybe there was a little Photoshop editing...*

2. Fold in the chopped strawberries, and spread the mixture into the graham crust.

3. Puree the blueberries in a fabulous Kitchen Aid food processor ;).

4. Mix about a 1/2 c to 1 c whipped topping with the blueberry yogurt, and fold in blueberry puree.

*NOTE: This is the point when I realized, holy moly, I have WAY too much blueberry goodness to fit in my tiny pie crust. I ended up "filling up" the crust with the mixture to the brim, and saving the rest of the blueberry concoction in my freezer. No shame in saving some for later :).*

5. Add decorative strawberry top in the center, and freeze.

We didn't eat this pie until the next day, so it was sure to have been frozen all the way. The original recipe states that it needs to freeze for at least 4 hours to be firm. Once fully frozen, allow to thaw in the fridge for about an hour before serving. Remember: DO NOT STORE IN THE FRIDGE! It will separate, and it will be disappointing.

Portobello Wraps

What is it about portobello mushrooms? They're earthy, they're juicy and they are totally versatile. This recipe uses portobellos as the main component of a summertime wrap. I cannot, however, take all of the credit. I have adapted the recipe from a recipe called Portobello Wrap with White Bean-Chile Spread from this version of Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook that my grandmother-in-law (those don't actually exist...they are really just grammas :)...) gave me for Christmas (love Grandma Ryno!). I use my own hummus as the spread, and I make it less classy by simplifying some of the other ingredients (who needs to be classy when they're hungry, anyway??)

Reagents:

Portobello caps, gills removed
Italian Salad dressing, divided
Hummus
Fresh spinach
Shredded mixed cheese
Flour tortillas

*I know I didn't put any measurements. This is not hard, people. Just read the method, and breathe. Everything will be fine. Just pretend you're making tacos, and make as many as you need, ok? Gauge 1 portobello cap per person, and about a handful of greens. I normally can only eat one of these, because they are pretty filling, but some people (named Tony...) may eat more than 1.*

1. Preheat broiler. Brush both sides of the cleaned portobello with Italian dressing--make sure you've covered it up well enough for it to marinate for at least 15 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, drizzle the spinach with some more Italian dressing, and mix well

3. Place mushroom caps on an aluminum foil lined cookie sheet, and broil for 6-8 minutes, turning over at about 3-4 minutes.

4. Spread hummus (liberally, if you're like me) on flour tortillas. Add about 1/4 cup of the spinach with dressing, some cheese and slices of the portobello caps

5. Wrap up like a burrito and enjoy!

This is one of my "staple" recipes to use whenever I see that portobellos are on sale--it's so easy!