The Myths and Making of Mayonnaise

A few of years ago, NPR aired a segment called “Happy Birthday, Dear Mayo — We Hold You Dear” in order to mark the 250th ‘birthday’ of that useful and ever-present condiment, mayonnaise.

Mere condiment? Did I say condiment? Isn’t it so much more than that? It is the stuff of culinary creativeness. I don’t even like the stuff that much and even I admire its usefulness. It is the basis for sauces, the glue for salads, the moistener for many a sandwich – even a home remedy for aching joints.

That last one is according to Wikipedia and while I’ve not heard that myself (and I’m well aware that Wikipedia isn’t 100% to be counted on) why would someone make up something that weird and that random? We shall take it as given until someone makes a case otherwise.

There is no existing culinary celebration of mayo on any list I’ve found. So I am, partly because I can and partly at the request of a friend whose hubby puts mayo on everything, declaring that May 21st is, from this day hence, to be known as Fabulous Foodie Mayo Day. (insert sound of cheering crowds here)

And so that we all know what we’re talking about by then, I’ve dug around and herein lay bare the truth, the assumptions and the mechanics of mayonnaise, our fabulous food friend. Continue reading “The Myths and Making of Mayonnaise”

Cobbling Together Easy Cherry Cobbler

As I mentioned over on the Fabulous Foodie Facebook group, today (May 16) is Coquille St Jacques Day.

If this is the kind of thing that gets you cookin’ to get cookin’ – by all mean, go forth and seize the scallops. Me, I’ll be over here prepping for tomorrow – which is Cherry Cobbler Day.  Prepping for Cherry Cobbler Day is about as easy a prep as you can get. You need only an hour (10 minutes prep, 45-50 minutes cooking) and a measly 3 ingredients.

Ingredients

  • 1 box yellow cake mix
  • 1 stick butter (slightly softened)
  • 1 can cherry pie filling

Optional Flourishes

  • chopped pecans (or nut of your choice)
  • extra bits of butter

Preparation

  • Cut one stick of butter into the cake mix, then press and crumble them together until you get a sort of rubble. Some bits bigger than others, nothing too uniform. This is a rustic kind of thing.
  • Spread the pie filling (undrained!) over the bottom of a the baking dish. Sprinkle cake mix/butter rubble over the pie filling until it’s completely covered. Then if you opted for the optional flourishes, sprinkle the chopped nuts lightly over the rubble and dot the top of the whole thing with small pieces of butter.
  • Bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes – you’re shooting for a golden toasty brown across the top

And that’s it. Let it cool. It’s outstanding at room temp or out of the fridge the next day. If serving fresh and warm, put some vanilla ice cream on top. If your house is anything like my house, you’ll want to check on the pie a few times while it cools. Not because the PIE is likely to develop problems but because certain members of the household will pick chunks of topping off and eat it.

Variations

  • topping – there are a lot of very similar recipes that skip the whole crumbling/pressing thing entirely. They call for the cake mix to be poured and spread over the filling and then melted butter poured over that. I’ve seen and tasted that variation and it’s quite not a bad way to go but I love the texture of the rubble topping so it’s my version of choice. That said, there have been times when I have melted the butter a bit before crumbling it together with the cake mix. I think I thought it would save time. It really doesn’t.
  • filling – it doesn’t have to be cherry. It works well with apple, peach, blueberry, etc. If you want a taller cobbler (or have a really deep dish) use two cans of pie filling.

Enjoy! And if you’re still in a pie mood, check out Musings on Great American Pie Month

Spatchcocking Psycho

It started a few weeks, back, under the cover of night.  I’d been aching to try it for a while, but it seemed so difficult and dangerous that I was nervous about an actual attempt. I’d read about it of course, and even seen a few videos on one of those specialty YouTube channels. They made it look so easy, but still I was afraid I’d wind up with a mangled corpse and a kitchen saturated with blood.

A Decision Made

Finally I plucked up the courage to try my hand.

I waited until I knew there would be no witnesses to catch me should I fail. I brought my victim home, put on my apron and sharpened my largest, heaviest knife. Then, with a drink to steady my nerves, I sneaked up behind my victim, and set to work.

The relief and pride as the job was done were immense. And later, as   I gazed down at my victim lying spread-eagled before me and sampled the juicy morsels of tender flesh, I knew I would do it again. And again and again. This was not some dark adventure to try only when the moon was full or when I could hold out no longer against my dark desires. This would happen regularly, perhaps once a week if I was lucky and could find people to share my new compulsion – and if my freezer could hold the rising tide of body parts. I had become a man obsessed.

Yes. Spatchcocking chicken had changed me forever.

You may have heard of Spatchocking as “butterflying,” but that’s far too pretty a term for what this process involves.

Spatchcocking – not to be confused with Spatchcock, which is a culled immature rooster, or Spitchcock, which has to do with eels- is when  the backbone of a chicken is removed and the chicken is flattened out, ready for grilling or roasting. The term  is apparently an Irish word, which is another culinary reason to thank them, along with flavored potato chips and chocolate milk.  It’s been around since at least the 18th century, though it’s such a brilliant way to prepare a chicken for cooking that I’d be surprised if nobody had thought of it sooner. Spatchcocking has regained popularity for a while now, mostly because it’s perfect for the barbecue.

Flattening  a whole chicken like that allows you to grill it in one piece, like it’s one big piece of meat. And who doesn’t go berserk for a big piece of meat?

Now that’s all well and good, but why lose my mind over it? Continue reading “Spatchcocking Psycho”

Recipe Request: Couscous for a Crowd

I can’t believe I never posted this here but apparently I never have. As someone has just asked for it, I take this opportunity to rectify the situation.

Couscous for a Crowd (Serves 6-8)

Ingredients

  • 2 c giant couscous
  • 1.5 c fresh mint, roughly shredded or chopped
  • 1 c sliced almonds, toasted (1)
  • 1 c dried cranberries (2)
  • zest of 1 orange
  • juice of 1 orange
  • dash of lemon juice (3)
  • olive oil
  • salt and pepper

Directions

Cook the couscous according to package instructions.  Drizzle with olive oil and toss to coat thoroughly. Then scatter some mint across the top and cover with a tea towel until couscous has cooled to room temp. Once the couscous has cooled, remove the tea towel and take larger pieces of wilted mint off top, then combine couscous, mint, almonds, cranberries, orange zest, and orange juice in a bowl.  Drizzle with additional olive oil (enough so that the couscous isn’t sticky) and season with salt and pepper. Toss to combine. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

This is one of those infinitely flexible things where you can add pretty much anything or mess with proportions to your hearts content and you’ll still end up with something yummy. And make extra ’cause it lasts in the fridge for a week and you’ll be snacking on it for days. Make a meal out of it and use up leftovers by adding some shredded cooked chicken.


(1) I leave these out sometimes – depends on who’s coming over and/or my mood. They do add a nice crunch in an otherwise not so crunch dish but I wouldn’t recommend other nuts. For some reason almonds work far better than others

(2) I sometimes add dried apricots as well. Whatever dried fruit you like, add.

(3) Depends on how much juice you get out of the orange and how sweet it is. If it’s too sweet for you after a good mix, add a dash of lemon juice to balance it. Or lime. Lime works the same magic.

Crafty Cardinal Creates Cutlery

Ah, Bastille Day – I’d say something about it in French but my French is lousy. So rather than subject us all to that, let’s celebrate it by looking at a few French moments and highlights in culinary history.

Rich in dukes and cardinals – but also rich in culinary trivia.

Imagine it. It is 1637. Cardinal Richelieu, for reasons known only to himself – maybe his own safety (he wasn’t universally popular) or maybe he was put off his dinner watching people pick their teeth with pointy ends – suddenly orders the blades of his dinnerware to be ground down and rounded off.

Behold, the modern dinner knife was born. Continue reading “Crafty Cardinal Creates Cutlery”