The Spice Must Flow - Sweet & Spicy Pumpkin Carrot Raisin Bread

So quiet.  Another Saturday adjacent to Courthouse Square, and the streets are blessedly silent, free from the maddening crowds of an average workday.  Well, perhaps with the notable exception of Clyde Avenue, masked as a local street, ha ha.

Clyde is actually a main thoroughfare linking the nearest fire station with the VFW Hall, double hairpin railroad crossings, lake access, and motorcycle club (there's got to be a motorcycle club, else where are they all coming from?) So sometimes the traffic is a bit crazy. Heavy enough to shake that side of my house and cause figurines to shift in the china cabinet and pictures to jump off the wall, breaking glass and my peace of mind.  Even on a Saturday.

 LIRR tracks running perpendicular to Ocean Parkway 

That just reminded me of something my grandmother told me about the Long Island Railroad train that used to run right alongside the building in which she lived in the Midwood section of Brooklyn.  Come to think of it, I lived there too, for a year or two, before we began our clandestine trek to the 'burbs.

I had never given much thought to this, being then 5 years old and not yet a train nut, but there were railroad tracks and a tunnel right where it needed to be to take the train under Ocean Parkway.  If I remember correctly, that tunnel was immediately adjacent to the parking garage which ran under the building. (My friend Mark might remember this better than me, being a fellow Midwoodite and train nut.) There was some kind of a pedestrian overpass (I'm pretty sure this is what I am thinking of, captured on film by Forgotten NY), and the building custodian used to build a snow igloo for us kids to play in, or a snowman with coal nugget eyes and a carrot nose (corny, but hey, it was the fifties). When the train, which ran on what was the old LIRR Bay Ridge line, rumbled past our building, my grandmother would have to straighten all the pictures on that side of the apartment.  I am pretty sure that by the time my brother and I had gone to live with my grandparents, that line had stopped running passenger trains, and even freight trains had become infrequent.

I don't remember when or why I became so enamored of trains and rail lines, but whenever that was, it has stuck with me for a lifetime.  Okay, that's enough about choo choos.  For now.

Since it is so nice and quiet on the weekend, Rob and I are pretty serious about firing up the grill and smoking some different meats, most notably a 3 pound hunk of Boar's Head bologna. We've had the smoked bologna at Thompson Brother's BBQ in Smyrna, Georgia any number of times and it is ridiculously delicious.  I've got hickory and apple wood waiting to be soaked in water, beer, or apple juice.  It's been a very long time since I attempted any kind of barbecue, but I used to be kinda good at it.

But right now, I'm focused on a pumpkin carrot raisin bread, using mini loaf tins.  First comes the spice mixture, which I have chosen to make up myself.  This is very different from commercial pumpkin pie spice, or from any of the online recipes.  Those mixtures rely heavily on cloves, which I love (but Robert doesn't), although it still reminds me of childhood trips to the dentist.  I substituted cardamom for the ground ginger, but I am thinking about adding some ginger paste to the actual batter.  There's orange peel in there, and a couple of spicy surprises, but since both pumpkin and carrot tend to be a bit bland, I think this will work.  As you can see, this is most definitely a work in progress.

You dune know how good it is till you try it

Sweet & Spicy Melange 

2 tablespoons ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons ground nutmeg

2 teaspoons ground cardamom

1 1/2 teaspoons ground cloves

2 teaspoons dried orange peel

1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/8  teaspoon cayenne pepper

Combine in a small covered container and set aside.

Sweet & Spicy Pumpkin Carrot Raisin Bread

3 cups all purpose flour
2 tablespoons Sweet & Spicy Melange
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
4 extra large eggs
3 cups sugar
1-15 oz. can pure pumpkin
1 cup canola oil
1/2 cup water

2 cups shredded carrots
1 cup raisins
optional: small amount of pepitas (shelled, roasted pumpkin seeds)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

In a very large mixing bowl, sift together the flour, spice mix, baking soda and salt.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs with the sugar to combine.  Add the pumpkin, oil and water, whisking lightly after each addition.

Spray 5 mini loaf tins with baking no-stick spray (there is flour in it).  Place the tins on a baking sheet.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon, just to combine. Stir in the carrots and raisins.  Immediately divide the batter among the tins, top with some pepitas on each loaf, and slide into the preheated oven.

Bake for 50 to 55 minutes.  Halfway through, turn the baking sheet front to back.  Remove the finished tins to a cooling rack.  You can leave the breads in the tins until ready to slice and serve.

I have to tell you, these came out even better than expected.  The bread was moist but light, the spice was just right, the pumpkin and carrot were in perfect balance.

And We'll Have Fun - Chicken with Shallots

You know what fun is?  Fun is seeing a recipe on the internet, and knowing what you are making for dinner tomorrow, because you've got all the ingredients in the house.  Okay, so your definition of fun is different from mine - stipulated.  Look, with the weather and my mood, I've sort have been confined to the house.  Fun is a relative term.                                   

Fun is also when Chelsea takes a selfie

I love Andrew Zimmern.  I don't love the same foods he loves; heck, who does?  Stinky tofu, deep fried gonads, rotting fish that happen to pee through their skin (skate, anybody?), greasy grimy gopher guts, maggot-infested cheese, crunchy insects - not for me.  But this recipe, which is entitled "Rishia (wife of Andrew) Zimmern's Chicken with Shallots" involves nary an insect.  Instead, the list of ingredients is so appealing, I started pulling chicken thighs out of the freezer and checking on the condition of the shallots on the counter (you don't refrigerate shallots) and the cherry tomatoes on the vine.  I am so planning this for tomorrow.

I know there are a hell of a lot of people who don't cook or won't cook. I guess I don't get it, but that's what makes horse races.  I hate to shop, I can't run or exercise, I am hopeless with a sewing machine, I don't get cosplay or cute crafts, and I can't decorate a house. I am definitely not the most interesting person in the world.

But an interesting recipe is a great find, and I think I found it.

Day 3 of the new medication - too soon to know if it is going to do the job, but I feel a little better - and a lot less angry - possibly as a result of being off the preceding pharmacological fubar for several days.  I am becoming a hermit, which I think I get from my grandmother, which she got from her father, my great-grandfather Charles Albert.  I told you I come from a long line of short, chubby, depressed Jewish women - I really should have opened the list to include my great-grandpa.  Oh, but that's a whole other blog post, maybe more than one.

First row, second from the left - "Prince" Albert

I still cannot go to the office.  I don't know what that is all about; I did nothing wrong.  I got sick, damn it. Everyone was very kind and helpful while I was spiraling out of control, so why am I afraid to go up there to say hello and pick up a few things?  I wonder if Grandpa Albert was afraid?  He lived in his little world - the music store, the room in back of the store where he lived with his dog - and that was it. Here is a man who was a musician, who had, at least on one memorable occasion, played his clarinet for the Czar of all Russias, had sailed the deep blue seas, one step ahead of the Cossacks, to the New World, where he opened a business and raised a passel of kids.  Surely at some point during his long life - he was 83 when he was killed during a robbery in his store - he must have been an outgoing and fearless man?  When did that change?  Why did that change?  Oh hell, I can't figure out why this is happening to me much less understand my great-grandpa. (Actually, I'm pretty sure he was in the early stages on senile dementia, same as what my grandmother went through.)

The hell with this, there are bigger things going on in the world.  The U.S. Embassy just reopened in Havana.  The Donald is still Numero Uno of the Republican candidates. Yes, we all must be taking crazy pills.  Dr. Ben Carson is rising up in the polls; the media is already honing in for the attack. Too bad, I like Dr. Carson. Hillary is well ahead of Bernie Sanders in the polls in Iowa.  Bernie, poor Bernie. A self-proclaimed socialist who also just happens to be Jewish - you have as much a chance of winning the Democratic nomination as Anakin Skywalker (who probably has better name recognition).

The Next President turns his back on me

I know that some polls, which are focusing on "truthfulness" and "trustworthiness" have noted (with glee; remember, I watch Fox News) that Hillary is losing numbers; people don't trust her.  To which I say, so what?  We the People do not expect our political leaders, including the President, to be truthful. Why? Because they never are. They never have been. They never will be. The sad fact is that a truthful politician is an inept politician.  Yes, I'm a cynic; one of the privileges of encroaching old age.

On that happy note - I have food on the horizon.  First, I am gathering the ingredients for Rishia Zimmern's Chicken with Shallots.  Second, I am assembling my mise en place for Pumpkin Carrot Raisin Bread.

But - before anything, let me kvetch about my back and kvell about my burnt ends from Jimmy Bear's BBQ.  I guess the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.  Yes, I see the fat.  (I also see the fried pickles.)  Fat is Good.  Fat is Flavor.  My back hurts, STILL, and the Fat makes me feel better.  What can I say?

Now, the chicken:  I followed the recipe as given, except I made a half-batch - four chicken thighs, 1 cup of cherry tomatoes, 11 shallots (because that's what I had in the house) - but a full-batch of sauce. That's what I do with my Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic, because I like to have a lot of sauce for reheating.  I almost died from just the salt and pepper seasoning - my hand kept sneaking to the spice cabinet - but I restrained myself till the end, when I dusted the top of the chicken with a small amount of Emeril's Essence.  Mea culpa.

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, sprigs of fresh tarragon, and Grey Poupon

When it came to reducing the sauce, I turned the chicken skin side down and reduced the sauce for 15 minutes. After that I moved the chicken to a baking dish, removed the sprigs of tarragon (trust me, they gave their all), and reduced the sauce for another 15 minutes.  During that time, I added the cherry tomatoes.  I also tasted the sauce and adjusted the seasoning with more salt, a dash or so of cayenne pepper, some fresh tarragon leaves, and fresh flat leaf parsley.

At the very end, I shut off the heat and stirred in another tablespoon of butter.  Finally, I spooned the awesome sauce over and around the chicken and garnished with more fresh parsley, which I chopped.

Here is the link to the recipe for Rishia Zimmern's Chicken with Shallots, which she adapted from Martha Stewart.  You see that her final dish is lighter in color than mine, probably because I was using a cast iron skillet, and I let the chicken take its sweet ass time getting a nice shade of brown.  I'm still getting used to cooking in cast iron.  I also let the cherry tomatoes cook a bit longer than the recipe calls for.

This is really good.  The sauce is surprisingly rich (don't skip the reduction stage) and the chicken extra tender.

Pimento Cheese, Please - Kielbasa and Kraut

Hello fellow New Yorkers, let me introduce you to a Southern Wonder:

Yes, that is the much-vaunted Pimento Cheese, the good stuff, made from Real Cheese (I don't want to think about the alternative.)

So I put some of this Pimento Cheese on my hamburger, and it was delicious.  But that begs the question, why did I even try to eat a hamburger?  Why do I ever try to eat normal food?  Even now, I'm looking at the remaining half and dreaming ...

Peachy Cheesy Pimento Cat Picture, in the kitchen of course.

"Feeling better"

One of the really truly rotten things about fibromyalgia and depression is that my mood can plummet faster than the Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Having lived past that dreaded employment hearing, I was feeling better.

Then I got an innocuous email telling me that the U.S. Post Ofice (is there any other?) had tried to deliver something to me at my work address from the State of Florida  First I thought it had to do with my retirement, but that outfit knows to send stuff to me at my home address. Therefore, it must be Something Bad.  Therefore, I must have done Something Wrong.  Are you following this?  Can you please explain it to me? Because I have no damn idea how I got from A to B. A touch of paranoia, you say? A guilty conscience? I've been sitting home minding my own business for 5 months - when did I have a chance to do Something Wrong?

"No Mo' Better"

Naturally, I'll be a wreck until I have a chance to pick up this Offending Object at the Post Office.  And so my mood, which was temporarily lightened, got slam-dunked from here to Amway.

Speaking of cooking, I haven't really done any in a few days ... letting the stacks of aluminum trays wind down.  I think my boys might be getting a little nervous. Not that anyone is going to starve in this house, but the freezer ain't the refrigerator, if you catch my drift. Me, I'm enjoying the gyro-flavored potato chips.  Sustenance is where you find it.

Who wants to drive in this?

I had wanted to stroll on down to the Lower Forty and do a little more clean-up among the vegetables, but the monsoon came early today, so I am staying under cover of roof and wall.  How dry I am, eh? Unfortunately, I have a 2:45 appointment at yet another doctor, which I am seriously considering canceling because a) it is pouring outside, and b) I fully expect this appointment to be a total waste of time.  Look dudes, if you can schedule a follow-up appointment two or three months out, there's nothing wrong, right?  If you're thinking I am over this medical mayhem, you are correct. And c) I have a terrified Yorkie on my hands.  She cannot tolerate thunder, lightning, or torrential rain, and Kissimmee just hit the trifecta.

There is food for fifty in the freezer, but I think I am going to whip up the very simple, very satisfying Kielbasa and Kraut.  I cannot remember if I have ever posted this recipe before - I am still working on a usable index, but there are between 250 and 300 recipes on the blog - but it is so good and so simple, it is worth a second look, assuming there was a first look.

I have admittedly tampered with this recipe in the 35 or so years I have been preparing it for my family - sautéing the onions in a separate step, throwing bacon and garlic into the mix, and yada yada yada. What it comes down to is the the original way is best.  One pan, four main ingredients.

But first - let's talk about seasoning.  It is very hard for me to state exactly how much of any one seasoning to add to a dish.  Everyone's taste is different.  Everyone's cooking audience is different. Salt, heat, exotic spices - these are all a matter of taste - precisely, the cook's taste, or that of your taste testers.  I like to have Rob check the taste of each dish, because after a while, my tastebuds go haywire. Fresh tastebuds, that's the ticket to good cooking. There may be times you may want to add something I haven't listed, because you know the flavor profile preferences of your eating audience. Go for it, I say.

Kielbasa and Kraut

1 pound sliced kielbasa (I use Hillshire Farms and I slice on the diagonal)
2 sliced onions
1 can sauerkraut (I use Silver Floss Bavarian style), rinsed and drained
salt, pepper, caraway seeds (I also used a bit of Emeril's Essence, cayenne pepper, and parsley flakes)
1 cup sour cream
1 heaping tablespoon mayonnaise (I used Hellman's. Duh.)

Place the onions in the bottom of a heavy pan.  Cover with the sliced kielbasa.  Cover the pan and steam over medium-low heat until the onions are soft.  Remove the cover and mix in the sauerkraut, salt, pepper and caraway seeds.  Heat through.

Just before serving, mix the sour cream with the mayonnaise to make a smooth sauce.  Add slowly to the kielbasa and kraut, stirring over a low heat.  Adjust seasoning to taste.

Now, because I can never leave well enough alone, I will tell you that today I doubled the sour cream and mayonnaise because I planned on serving this with noodles, and I wanted some extra sauce for that.  Just an idea, you don't have to do that.

You know what goes really well with this? Potato pierogen. Frozen is fine - it has to be, I've never made them from scratch.  Any kind of potato goes well.  And those cute little spaetzle things I've made a few times in the past. But today, it's all about broad egg noodles with peas.  Good mix.

     

And that's the way it is Wednesday - Maybe Muffins

What a week.

Monday, psychiatrist. Tuesday, therapist. Wednesday, phone conference hearing on employment. Thursday, gastroenterologist. Friday, hearing specialist (I'm going to accompany the spouse).  

Today was the day I was dreading - the employment hearing. It had the virtue of being short.  I was capable of speaking coherently. It was reasonably cordial.  I should be getting a written decision within a week, at which point that part of my life will be over.  

I went out early this morning to pull some weeds from a very small patch of garden I had not gotten to before.  Probably a bad idea.  I also tried evening out some of the top soil, using my new claw-on-a-stick (cultivator) and that was a worse idea; I had to stop in the middle of that project. I have to trim some unruly herbs, but that is definitely going to have to wait. I have to stake the aubergine (eggplant) plants, but there is no way that is going to happen. My back is letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that I acted stupidly. I am going to pay for this little spurt of domesticity, starting now.  Crap, but I hurt.

So I made this soup yesterday, and it closely resembles a minestrone, and the boys each had a nice big cup for lunch today, but it doesn't appeal to me, so for now I am lunchless.  At least they like it.  And it's good, don't get me wrong, but it's full of stuff - vegetables and herbs and some pasta - and I can't imagine swallowing that right now.

What I want to do is try baking those Buttermilk Spice Muffins, like I used to order at Mimi's Cafe, before some genius closed the local Mimi's and left us all muffin-less.  The good news is I will be able to use some more of the buttermilk that is lingering in the refrigerator.  The bad news is I overdid this morning, my lower back is giving me a "what-for", and standing up to prepare the muffins may not be in my best interest.  For now my best interests are served by sitting in this chair with my feet up and a small, lovable dog tucked in right next to me. Cuddled, she has. Snuggled, she is. My little sweetheart.

Of course I had to try to eat a "real" lunch - all-beef corn dog, pretty tasty.  Ha ha, that was almost as bad an idea as the gardening! Won't I ever learn? Apparently not, as I went back outside for a brief time and trimmed back the herbs.  Didn't have enough energy to bag them up, so if anyone is walking by the side of the house and sees the piles of herb branches, help yourself.  There's Thai basil, sweet basil, tarragon, oregano, and parsley.  Oh yeah, there's mint and lemon balm.  I'll be inside, screaming in pain.

I can't leave the muffin thing alone. I got an idea for a bread pudding muffin that comes from a cute little muffin cookbook I picked up over 25 years ago, plus something I saw Robert Irvine do on "Dinner: Impossible" some years ago.  If this works, I will have used up the buttermilk, and most of those Little Debbie cakes that have been taking up room in my refrigerator.

These came out good!  The only downside is that I used 3 separate mixing bowls, a measuring cup, and a glass custard cup in preparing them.  The original recipe, Appalachian Bread Pudding Muffins, is from an adorable little book called The Joy of Muffins by Genevieve Farrow and Diane Dreher.

Bread Pudding Muffins

4 individual Little Debbie Streusel Cakes (I used 2 cinnamon and 2 cream cheese, you could use any combination or just one of them) cut into 12 cubes each
1 cup  buttermilk
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup cherry-infused dried cranberries
1/2 cup sweetened coconut (Baker's Angel Flake)
1/4 cup pecan meal
2 eggs
4 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled
1 teaspoon vanilla
nutmeg (freshly grated, if available)

If you have a little time, let the cake cubes sit out and dry somewhat. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Soak the cake cubes in the buttermilk; set aside while you prepare the other ingredients.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, brown sugar, baking powder and baking soda.  Stir in the cranberries, coconut, and pecan meal. Whisk the eggs and vanilla together, then whisk in the melted, cooled butter. Add this to the buttermilk mixture.

Make a well in the dry ingredients and add the wet ingredients, folding just enough to combine.  Do not over mix, you will have - gasp! - tough muffins.  Ick and Feh! Grease a muffin tin with butter, or (my preference) spray it, spray it good with Pam Butter Flavor No-Stick Spray. With a scoop, divide the batter evenly (they will be almost filled to the top) and sprinkle the tops with some nutmeg.  Bake for 20 minutes; allow the muffins to cool for 5 minutes, then remove to a metal cooling rack.

And now ...

Serve these with orange marmalade butter: let 4 tablespoons of butter soften at room temperature, then mix in 2 tablespoons of orange marmalade.

Nice.  Not tough.  Tender, like me when I'm on my meds.

Wish Me Luck, The Same To You

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that this is forever. The pain gets worse; it moves, it morphs. It tortures me. I can buy an hour without discomfort by swallowing two ibuprofen, but that is short-lived and leaves me the other 23 hours in which to cry in pain. Don't be fooled by the fact that I cooked dinner, or picked some okra, or put on some make-up and combed my hair. The pain never dies.

It is frustrating when one's doctors don't fully understand how permanent this debilitation is.  I'm not going to get better.  My mental acuity is shot to spit; my hearing and eyesight are PDC (pretty damn crappy). I will never again be able to stand up in court and argue case law and statutes.  Hell, I have enough problems just standing up.  

It wasn't supposed to be this way.  I was going to work forever - the joke was I would die at my desk, at some advanced age.  The job, the passion, the devotion - it was for the kids.  God knows there was neither glory nor gelt from what I did for so long. (Although once I did get a thank you note from Governor Jeb Bush for my work on a Department task force.)

Don't be fooled by the fact that I can write this blog.  It takes me all day, and I rely heavily on spell check and word processing to go back over and over, correcting each time.

Today is the day of my "hearing". I don't know what to expect. I am grateful it can be done via conference call. (Imagine me having to pull on pantyhose and a skirt, driving to downtown Orlando and trying to find a parking space at the Hurston Building.)  I am befuddled that it has to be done at all.  I want this all to be over and done with. I also want to use up that half container of buttermilk in my fridge before it becomes unusable (does buttermilk ever really go bad?)

Total non sequitur.  Is that me or is it fibromyalgia?

Seven minutes before I call in to the conference line.  Wish me luck.

Fired Up - Stone Soup

All the trees are green, and the sky is blue. I have a magnolia blossom and an okra blossom too! That's the good news. My doctor listened to me (she always does) and changed my medication.  That's also good news. The bad news is that I am getting fired on Wednesday. Terminated.  Separated.  Put out to pasture. Sigh. It was inevitable, in fact it has to happen in order for me to move forward with what is left of my life, but it is sad, nonetheless.  

All I really want is a quart of soup and a good reason not to have to go out to Publix. I've already been out today. I have to go out again tomorrow. Doctors, etcetera etcetera and so forth. Shall we dance?Did Yul Brynner live in vain? Two paragraphs in and you've got two ear worms for the price of one.You're welcome.

I don't have split peas in the pantry (my first choice). But I do have carrots and celery and a neck bone, and maybe a way to use up that can of Progresso Lentil Soup I bought in a moment of weakness.  Or maybe it was madness.

1 or 2 small pieces smoked pork neck bone

1 medium onion, chopped

1 large carrot, chopped

1 large celery stalk, chopped

1 hot pepper (I used Scotch bonnet), halved and seeded (totally optional or remove early)

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

2 Knorr chicken bouillon cubes

1 full sprig fresh thyme

1--14.5 oz. can Hunt's diced tomatoes, including the liquid

1-19 oz. can Progresso lentil soup

kosher salt and coarsely ground black pepper, to taste

1 small sprig each fresh rosemary and fresh basil

a dash of sugar

1-32 oz. container Progresso Tuscany Broth

Add the ingredients to a crockpot, in the order given.  Cover, set on Low and cook for 4 hours. Increase heat to High and add a 15.5 oz. can undrained Goya pinto beans and a 15 oz. bag of frozen vegetable soup mix, defrosted in a colander, under warm water,

Hmm, what else can I add to the soup?

Oy vey, this is turning into Stone Soup, and I have no guarantee that I won't pour it down the drain when it is done, assuming it ever gets done.    

Hour Six: I add a piece of Parmesan rind, some Emeril's Essence, dried thyme, granulated garlic, a pinch more of sugar, and a cut-up okra pod I just snagged from my garden.  What else can I add to the soup?

Hour Seven: I threw in a half cup of ditalini pasta.  Another half hour and ta-da, for better or worse.

Would you believe ... delicious?