O no she dih-unt!

So yesterday I was going through Saturday's mail (what? it's a holiday weekend—I'm behind) and came across a fancy-pants envelope from King Arthur Flour (what sort of marketing ploy is this? I wondered; are they attempting to make me feel "special"? [usually I'm a sucker and that approach works]).

I opened it, and noticed something "handwritten" (I'm getting used to typefaces that mimic hand printing) on the inside flap, and a mention of $50. I assumed it was an insidious way of saying "spend $250 and get a $50 store credit." When I looked closer, however, I noticed the note was handwritten, and said:

 

(That is, "Thank you so much with the wedding")

My friend Heather was married on Nov. 7,  and I helped with the set-up (although I certainly wasn't the one who helped the most).  Oh, and I also performed the ceremony, which was an honor.

There was no name on the gift from King Arthur Flour...Heather, was it you? Was it your sister? Whomever, I am not worthy! Such a generous gift! I seriously considered not accepting it, but.... I will try simply to appreciate my good fortune and the generosity of my friends.

Toward what will I apply it?! One of those cookie-cutter rolling pins? Or should I go whole hog and spring for the stand mixer?? (For the longest time, I baked my Christmas cookies with no electric appliances, and I'm only just getting used to the hand mixer. A stand mixer?? That idea's so crazy it just might work!)

Blog readers, what would you purchase at King Arthur Flour with such a gift certificate??

 

My Golden Pull-Apart Buns

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

I made King Arthur Flour's Golden Pull-Apart Buns last night, as well as pumpkin-pie muffins (the muffin that tastes like a pumpkin pie!). A photo of my buns follows:

Happy Feasting!

Today's Bonnet-Bee: Vintage Wool Coats

Looking for one. On eBay. Cannot stop myself. That is all. No photos or links at this time. Will begin winnowing process. Looking for something warm, roomy, plaid, and/or colorful. Am down on down, at the moment. And gray and black. And pronoun "I." Have had an "Elmer Fudd" red wool hunting jacket from the '30s for years upon years (thanks again, Izzy!) and it is the warmest coat * own.

Bonnet-Bee du Jour: Packaging Homemade Treats

For the past, oh, 14 years (gulp! I'm old), it's been my habit to make Christmas cookies and candies and ship them (or give them) to friends. Packaging them, particularly to ship, has alternately been a "fun challenge" and a huge pain in the arse. I am ever-striving toward a method that is attractive, sturdy, and not super time-consuming, in which the different flavors and textures of cookies are preserved. In the beginning, one or two cookies were placed in individual paper candy or cupcake cups and packed in a tin, with plain old red or green tissue paper between layers. It was effective (I think--I don't think I've ever seen my cookies after they reach their intended destination), but: packing them into all those little paper candy cups was hugely time consuming, AND regular old tissue paper isn't exactly "food grade."


"Food grade" became a very important factor for me in packaging cookies, particularly after my sister brandished her food-grade waxed tissue paper from Williams-Sonoma one holiday season. I was an instant convert.

The treat bag is another medium I've tried, but "food grade" becomes a factor once again, especially when you consider that most treat bags you purchase at Target or similar stores need to be "off-gassed" after opening. I've used them, but lined with waxed or parchment paper.

I started getting my treat bags from baking stores or the baking section of JoAnn. Several of the same kind of cookie are packed into a bag, and several different bags are packed into a tin. There's usually an excess of "bag top," however, and, while it acts as padding, there's so much excess bag that the tops need to be trimmed.

I've also used foil candy wrappers for caramels and similar treats: festive and protective, but not exactly expeditious.

It was when I saw this method in Martha Stewart Living that I realized there might be an easier way. Corrugated dividers! Of course—just like in the cookies you get from the store. I filed the idea away, with the thought, "Oh, there's probably some special place they get those dividers; I doubt I'll find them." And I relied on mostly the treat-bag approach for a few years.

Photo courtesy of marthastewart.com.

It was only recently I decided, "Wait a minute!" I would find my own corrugated dividers! A hunt for them at JoAnn was totally fruitless and exasperating, so I did an online search, found the original Martha Stewart article, and saw that the corrugated cardboard came from Dick Blick, with a link and product number provided—easy, right?

Sadly, no. For there was no indication in the product description that the roll of corrugated paper was food-safe. I just couldn't bring myself to order it. But I sallied forth with Google searches, confident that I could find corrugated dividers that were food safe, and...and...

Where the hell were they??

I did find them on the site of a packaging manufacturer, but it was an industry site exclusively, with no e-commerce.

Could I make my own corrugated dividers? Could I invest in a paper crimper and find some food-safe, cardstock-weight paper to feed through it? Ah, no.

• 1) It appears paper crimpers are pretty wimpy, but aptly named, as they only work for, well, paper...
• 2) using foodsafe cardstock would most probably entail dismantling food packaging boxes. (Now that's not time-consuming!)
• 3) Next idea!

In my search for food-safe anything, I came across several sites, geared toward retailers/store owners, that specialized in packaging. Nashville Wraps was particularly extensive, and sold some of their items in packages of less than 100! (No corrugated dividers to be found on the site, but at that point I was no longer surprised nor dismayed.) I browsed obsessively.

Success? Well, yes. And all of it FDA-approved for direct contact with food! Firstly, they sold Chinese takeout boxes; I ordered 25 for $4! For the gift of one variety of cookie or candy, these could be adorable (especially with a little food-grade waxed tissue lining the box, and tied with a festive ribbon). Next, I ordered a hefty number of 1-lb candy boxes—which were of an appropriate shape to fit into an 8 1/2" x 11" padded envelope—and with them, quilted paper candy pads that measured the same as the depth of the candy boxes—cut one in half, place on its side in the box, and, voilà!: divider! The candy pads are three-ply, like the corrugated dividers, and, I think, will be as effective. I can't wait to get my package from Nashville Wraps and try out my methods.

Northern Spies, etc., Part 2: Success?

Twenty-eight hours later, and only a fraction of the pie remains. A palatable crust, after all. (I had replaced the tablespoons of orange juice called for in the dough recipe with vinegar [not Folger's crystals] and feared an overpowering tang. Once baked, however, the crust displayed little sign of overacidity. I will stick to the recipe and use orange juice next time, however.)

I used tart and yummy Northern Spy apples for the pie. Before filling the pie, I sautéed them with butter, sugar, salt, flour, and vanilla (no cinnamon in this pie).

The dough was pretty elastic and rolled out fairly easily.

 Bottom crust filled with precooked apples.

I probably should've chilled the pie before baking; once in the oven for 15 or so minutes, it started getting "droopy crusts," which required some un-Martha-like smooshing.

 

Baked

Glazed with powdered sugar mixed with vanilla, and looking like a matronly woman wearing coldcream before bed (later I added another layer of glaze: powdered sugar mixed with a little half and half).

With the dough scraps, I made three empanaditas filled with a little dulce de leche.

Northern Spies and a Potentially F-ed Up Crust: Part 1

Pie. Pie pie pie pie pie. Crust crust crust crust crust. Is piecrust an art form, or merely a test of one's chutzpah? People tend to shy away from crust-making; it is not for the faint of heart. I might go so far as to call myself a "baker," but not a "piemaker" (oh, hell, and I can't frost a cake worth a damn, either).

I've made my share of pies—usually apple—over the years, but I have yet to memorize a crust recipe or feel confident with one crust recipe over another. (I did, however, once engage in the anal-retentive rigamarole of preparing a piecrust the Rose Levy-Beranbaum way, and I must say, it was one of the tastiest crusts ever I baked—worth every nit-picky detail. One has to admire Rose... I do! And I adore her Christmas Cookie book.) Also, I've been making whole-wheat piecrusts the last several years, which are slightly more temperamental (less gluten, and all that).

What I have  learned is that it's better not to fear the piecrust (or the reaper, but that's another matter); go ahead and touch it and add too much water or too much fat or not enough flour: screw up and learn from it. A tentative approach to crust, I fear, will not pay off.

That being said, I absolutely abhor f-ing up piecrsuts, and I seem to do it with regularity. Take last night, for example...

This evening, I want to make a surprise apple pie for my father (but it won't be surprise in a hour or so, when I lug my pie accoutrement to my sister's, where he's staying, and start peeling apples), so last night, I prepared the crust. Although I usually don't think ahead and do this, it's good to prepare the pie dough in advance, so it has ample time to chill and rest. This is particularly the case with whole-grain flours.

I chose a whole-wheat crust recipe from the King Arthur Flour Whole-Grain Baking cookbook (oddly, I've had the book for a few years but hadn't tried this recipe yet). The whole book, and it's a good one, is based on the premise that there are many more grains out there than white all-purpose flour, and that using whole grains in recipes requires adjustments that go beyond simply substituting them for the white flour called for in a given recipe.

(the Northern Spy apple looks totally photoshopped in--but it isn't.)

[this concludes part the first. I need to get going on said pie!]

Lemon Bars

I baked some lemon bars last night, for a fund-raising event for a good cause (hey--why not give them some money??).

Ah, lemon-flavored desserts: a good one can arouse the tastebuds, while a bad one puts you in mind of cough drops and floor cleaner, and turns you off for years. I was not a fan for the longest time, having had one too many artificially flavored lemon desserts as a child, or ones that were all bitterness and pith and no tart lemony brightness. The lemon cream-cheese cookies my mother started making for Christmas turned me around: a lot of real lemon juice, and no artificial flavoring in sight.

Last night was my first stab at crafting lemon bars, so recipe research was in order. Would it be Ina Garten's recipe, Southern Living's "Luscious Lemon Bars," or the "Lemon Squares" recipe (linked is a version written for kids) from Martha Stewart's Cookies?

Martha won, and here's why: Ina's recipe, although it does call for a hearty cup of lemon juice, uses a cup of flour for the filling, which, it seemed, would make too "doughy" a filling, and also called for 3 cups of sugar (too sweet!). Southern Living's recipe was too light on the lemon juice (only 1/3 cup) and too heavy on the sugar (2 cups). Martha's recipe, to quote Goldilocks, was "just right": a goodly amount of juice (3/4 cup), not too much flour (4T), and not too much sugar (1 1/3 C).


After sanitizing countertops with a vinegar/water solution, I donned this apron (home-sewn by Izzy, who passed away last winter at a ripe old age) and got crack-a-lackin'.

Here are a couple things I learned along the way:

• Grating frozen butter (which the recipe calls for) is both fun and practical: a good way for the butter to stay cold as it is being incorporated into a pastry dough
• For bar cookies whose top/filling starts out liquid and and firms during baking, it is important to have a level oven. (Well, in general this is important—I remember my grandmother complaining about how her kitchen floor—specifically, the floor under the range—wasn't level.) I knew my stove wasn't level from the way olive oil/butter/ghee would slide to one side of the skillet.
  
  My options, therefore, were to have lopsided lemon bars, or to try to coax the filling evenly over the crust. I opted for the latter, sloshing filling to the opposite side of the pan when the bars were half-baked, and the results were not pretty!

Not unlike a lunar surface....

Fortunately, powdered sugar covers all manner of blemish, and the finish products (dainty 2" X 2" squares) turned out looking all right. In my haste to pack them up and refrigerate them, however, I failed to take a picture (what a shaggy-dog post!), but I will try to remember to take one after I deliver them this afternoon and arrange them on trays.

Of course, there were a few bars whose uneven complexion didn't make the cut, and there was some crust to be trimmed, so I had the pleasure of sampling my wares, and they were pucker-licious: not too sweet, and, with the addition of the powdered sugar on top, not too tart.

I recommend the recipe for those who enjoy zesty lemon flavor.

Hello. Come in.

I am a single, ornery, and reclusive cat owner; I am a spinster.

I revel in baking, sewing, making things out of felt, and giving gifts; I am a homemaker.

I am a creatively underchallenged writer; I have started a blog.

Put them all together and you have this, whatever "this" turns out to be.....

(I am fond of the ellipsis.)

Thank you for stopping by, and please come again.