All the Books: Recipe #9 – Crispy Roasted Potatoes

All the Books: Recipe #9 – Crispy Roasted Potatoes

I want to tell you a story, a story about overwork, a story about depression, a story about cooking potatoes, and story about overcoming difficult odds to triumph over evil. I started this project for two reasons – One: I had too many unused cookbooks. Two: I needed to remember how to write again. After about ten years I was coming out of a depressive slump from which I almost didn’t escape. When you’re wrapped up in problems, and your brain is working against you, things can quickly go from bad to worse. We won’t go into the problems, but let’s agree that I was not at what you would call my fighting condition for such a set of circumstances to arrive. Over the last, let’s call it two years, I have been able to work my way out of the situation. Also, quite frankly, the question “What’s the worst that can happen” was pretty handily answered. And that, my dears may darlings, is a lovely and freeing feeling. Once the three worst things that can happen, have already happened, what else can they do to you?


This pic of pitching wizard is merely here to fill space. Please ignore him.

This releasing of tension coincided with a new found ability to cope with situations and a slightly lower disaster to good day ratio. The reason I bring all this up, is that there are still some times when I slide back and just can’t. Just cleaning the table to make a corner of the kitchen look presentable is too much. Finding a recipe is too much anxiety, and the effort to photograph and edit is more than I can bear. The result of all these things is that sometimes you don’t get a post for a week or three, because even though I made tonight’s dish a while ago, there simply was too much else to do and I had as couple of weeks at work that were a little rough due to training and people leaving and such. So, that’s why this is late and some others will also be late.



So, a while ago, I was at one of those little gift stores you sometimes get. They sell magnets and aprons with the name of your state of them. They smell vaguely of lilac and always seem to be run by the same middle aged woman. She sells candles, and the sort of blank cards with photographs on them, as well as (sometimes) books like this one. Now, one may ask why I bought Sheet Pan Suppers, by Molly Gilbert when I already have (by my own admission) too many cookbooks. I would reply that I live in a house with a bunch of enablers. Just today, the day I write this, my father bought me French Cooking: Classic Recipes and Techniques because I didn’t have a single French cookbook. Nice, but... you know? Like I don't have enough cookbooks to work through? So I bought a copy of this book, on my own recognizance, because I thought it might be interesting. Now, fair dues to Molly Gilbert, I had seen this recipe and thought “Oh, okay, when I make something ELSE from this book, I can make that as a side and get a nice two-fer.” There are 120 recipes in this book and many of them look like they would be good things to cook. However, when I found myself rushed and in need of SOMETHING to cook so that I would have a post ready for the next week (when I still thought this was going to go up on September 10th) and I sort of had some potatoes on hand already soooooooo....



Having made this the way the recipe said to (with a slight adjustment in the kind of potato I had on hand), the result was pretty good. I feel sort of bad, like I’m rendering a disservice to poor Molly Gilbert, because all her hard work and effort to write an interesting book, and I’m spot lighting a fairly simple side dish. I’m pretty sure if she ever reads this she’ll be glad to know that the dish turned out well and was rated as pretty good. Still though. Listen, find this book, buy it, pay the full list price like I did and make something more interesting. While you’re at it, overcome your anxiety and depression and start a food blog where you don’t actually talk that much about the food, don’t actually share the recipe, but talk about yourself a lot and generally give the impression that this whole thing is some kind of Post-Dadaist Neo-Absurdist stab at being the sort of artist that really annoys the squares. You could do that, but someone else probably has beaten you to that idea.

All the Books: Recipe #7 & #8: Hungarian Goulash and Egg Dumplings

So let’s talk about The Great Meat Cookbook by Bruce Aidells with Anne-Marie Ramo for a moment. Just got this book a couple of weeks ago, there is a new bookstore in town and cookbooks are the only physical books I still buy. I don’t trust my tablet in the kitchen with me, I just don’t. The cover price of the book is $40, but I didn’t pay that. I won’t tell you what I did pay, but suffice to say the cost was dear and some people will never be the same. One day, those poor people may learn to forgive.



It’s rare that you can look at the cover of the book and be able to think “I bet there isn’t a single vegan friendly recipe in there.” And yet, there are a couple of sauce recipes that fit that term, so there you go. As far as a book calling itself The Great anything, I am a believer in the old adage that extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof. Well, the book is over 600 pages long, and has a range of recipes that go from simple little one pot meals to more complex things like home cured bacon and handmade sausage. This may just deserve the "Great" moniker. There are also a good amount of information on how to buy meat, which is something people take for granted. If you’re going to cook seriously at any level, you get to a point where you need to be selective, you need to know what cuts of meat look like, how they react to different cooking methods and so on. Even if you’re cooking vegetarian, one tomato is not as good as another and avocados are leather skinned beasts of mystery. There is more to this than simply grabbing meat and throwing it at the oven. You need to turn the oven on too.



Now, I have made goulash before, because I am a man of the world and have done many things. I won’t go into the many things right now, because there is a question of appropriate time and place. However, you can rest assured that I am a man who knows a hawk from a handsaw. I had not made it quite like this though, and I had not made the error I made this time before. The mistake still haunts me, to this day. One day, I will strip off my clothes and stand naked before The Gods and ask them to forgive this fallen shell of flesh, but it is not this day.



See, there is a thing in some cookbooks call The Optional Ingredient, and I have always said not going for what they put on the page is the act of a coward. I am a brave man, and thus I put the hot Hungarian paprika into the dish. And lo, I was brought low by my hubris and have been humbled. I put the spoonful into my mouth and Toyo-Uke-Bime herself appeared before me and demanded an explanation as to what exactly I had done. Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite that much, I mean... it was just a little too spicy. It was otherwise good, just a little too hot. Point is, you can skip the hot paprika and go for the normal stuff.



So let’s talk about those dumplings. There is a great quote about dumplings and I think it would be appropriate to share it here... “Real dumplings, proper dumplings when they are properly cooked to perfection, proper dumplings should not bounce!” -- David Lister. I did not make proper dumplings. I had forgotten the face of my father and I overworked my dumpling batter. This time it was Hestia who turned up with a stern “Dude, what the hell?” because... dumplings are also water and flour... and thus bread? I don’t know. Listen, when you talk to them later, you can ask each of these gods why they chose to turn up and berate me for my cooking. So basically, they tasted pretty good, but my dumplings were stones that had super hot spicy stuff poured over them. Needless to say, it was not my finest hour, but I got by and lived to tell the tale.



And of course, if I hadn’t said anything, you would never know. Because it looks fantastic, and that’s all you’ll get on the internet. If you hung out with me, you could eat this sort of thing, but you don’t so you can’t. I am not responsible for your poor life choices.

All the Books: Recipe #5 & #6 Broiled Steak with Pizzaiola Sauce and Stuffed Baked Potatoes

It was a birthday this week? I made two things and photographed them on the same plate without thinking and went with it? It’s summer and we need a Giant Sized Issue like the old Marvel system? This is one of those things. That’s the introduction, that’s the whole thing, that’s all I got. If only Jack Kirby were here to draw the cover. We could use it, because I forgot to photograph the cover for Cooking School Italian, which is no great loss because it’s just a nice, but somewhat basic, photo of some ingredients. You’d be able to see that if you clicked the link. It’s not a bad cover, it’s actually a very good photo, it’s just not something you’re going to want to frame and point to and tell people that picture changed your life. Or maybe it will, I don’t know what changed your life. I tell you what? Here's a link to the cover. Did it change your life? Well, did clicking that link waste a lot of your time? So there you go.



Cooking School Italian was actually bought at about the same time, if not the same trip as Cook's Bible, which goes for fourteen cents on Amazon and has a two star rating. I get it, the book is a little basic for a thing purporting to be a bible. Although a bible (small B) is technically a book that is made up of other books, edited for content. The Soup Bible from a couple of weeks ago is a proper bible, but as it is not religious is probably not a Proper Bible. Unless Soup is something you take so seriously as to be religious about it. Where was I? These are both from a company called Love Food, which is itself an imprint of Paragon Press. I only mention this because it appears these are original books to Paragon, because as we will see in the following weeks and months, several of these books get bought of up and reprinted by numerous companies over time.



I wanted a steak and some potatoes for dinner that day, so I chose the two dishes in the title. I also chose to photograph them very dramatically because it was that time of day and the light was good. Now the steak was steak, and I very much liked the Pizzaiola sauce, but Syd is rarely impressed with tomato sauce. I didn’t blend the tomatoes, preferring the chunkier look we have in the photos. The Stuffed Baked Potatoes are just twice baked with a fancy name. They did call for blue cheese, which I had never tried in a combination like this, but will do again. The recipe asked for either cheddar or blue, but I went half and half, and that worked well. I also put the ham bits on top instead of working them into the potato and that worked less well because they got a little burned. Not so burned so bad we couldn’t eat them, but more than is preferred.



Now I am going to talk a moment about steaks. I like medium well to well done, depending on my mood and the cut of meat, I will even take medium some times, but I rarely like rare. That’s my thing and as I’m the one that has to eat it I would rather cooked to my liking. One too many cheap steaks were served to me at a formative time of my life and chewing disgustingly raw meat like it’s bubble gum will put you off rare for life. True story, I didn’t eat steak for three years because bad cooks and atrocious cuts convinced me I just didn’t like it. This is one of the reasons I generally cook my own food, and why I rarely order steak at a place I’ve never been to before.



I have since learned how to pick a good steak at the store and what cuts are probably going to give the best experience and how to spot a place with good steaks and can sometimes even go for a flat medium. Sadly, it would take longer than I have, and more diagrams and photos than I want to link today to explain the process. One thing I have found over the years is you can make a good steak by rotating more than once. Don’t listen to the one side and then the other guides. Do two minutes a side and then flip, if you want well done, just do it more times. This has always worked for me. Additionally, if you are cooking for people who like well done and people who like rare, put the rare steak on the heat last. That way, everyone’s food will be done at the same time. I know this sounds like really basic stuff, but you’d be amazed the people who have treated this like a bolt of inspiration, so I thought I’d mention it.

All the Books: Recipe #4 – Lamb Shanks Rosemary

There is a book that I inherited when my mother died called The New Complete Book of Cookery, and it comes from a company called Tee Vee Books. Wait... what? TeeVee Books? What the hell is that? Can’t find a hell of a lot on the internet about this. There is literally no author, there is a forward that only mentions The Editor, like they’re The Mysterious Package Company or something. The copyright is to a Paul Hamlyn PTY LTD, which is in Australia and... that’s about all I know. Book was printed in Japan, I’m out of fun facts about this book. Seriously, Unless you want a link to the Paul Hamlyn Foundation, I am pulling the ripcord on the factual part of this paragraph and diving into Speculation Bay. The name makes me think this was ordered through a TV commercial. Order now, operators are standing by, but wait, there’s more, sort of thing.

The internet seems to think there was once a slip cover to this book, but that’s gone long ago and all we have is this red leatherette. Something that bugs me about this book... the title on the spine is upside down. LISTEN! When you place a book on a table, with the cover facing up, the title on the spine should be situated so you can read it. Almost all books get this, why can’t The New Complete Book of Cookery? Answer me 46 year old book! This is also one of those books where there are a total of ten glossy pages so there are very few pictures of the food,. There are also very short recipes. That shot? That’s the whole thing. Nothing in life will prepare you for a four sentence recipe. I’ve found more detailed instructions in recipes from the back of soup cans.

So I had these four lamb shanks, and I had NO idea what to do with them. Now some of you, the cynical ones, are thinking I began grabbing books at random and frantically pawed through them. I just want to you know I am deeply disappointed in you and your cynicism is destroying us from within. No, I grabbed this book at random, opened the book at random, and my eyes landed on this recipe. Because when I go to pick something at random, I roll a Natural 20. If you’re nerdy enough to get that joke, you’re too nerdy to give me shit about dropping such a nerdy joke. Choke on it.

So, here’s the thing. I was going to let this sit in the crock pot while I went to work that day, because I multi task, you know? But that did mean I would need to have juniper berries... on hand... or would have to get them at 9:30 at night when I decided to set up my mise en place. Juniper berries are apparently contraband. I went to three different places, but none of them are the damn international shops that closed at 9. However, after the Gazpacho Disaster, I said we’d play Calvinball and so we shall. Gin works in a pinch and you KNOW that I had some of that on hand. Don’t judge me. Also I was cooking in a crock pot so I was already faking my way through.

So I quick seared the meat in the oven in the morning, put it in the pot with all the pre-cut, pre-weighed, pre-selected stuff. And then I left for like 9 hours with driving time included. Now, I don’t know about you, but my crock pot has two settings. They aren’t even low and high, they are just dots on the surface. I went for number two and hoped. The only problem turned out be that the meat slid from the bones like... oh... I am trying to come up with a metaphor that doesn’t ring as just total filth. Point is, there was no shape or form left to these to be plated, so I did what I could with what was left. This is why the plating is so bad. Harsh language would have caused these little guys to fall apart. Then I made some gravy and potatoes and we were all set. You will noticed mashed potatoes and not rice as the recipe says. Screw you The New Complete Book of Cookery, your title is upside down on your spine and I’m playing Calvinball!

Also, I am aware the plating looks ugly because brown meat on a brown plate is less than appealing. I am doing something about the brown plates. You’ll soon see.

All the Books: Recipe #3 – Gazpacho Soup

All the Books: Recipe #3 – Gazpacho Soup

So I have a copy of a rather large cookbook called The Ultimate Soup Bible, and again I believe it to be an amalgam of other cookbooks that have been gangbanged into existence by smashing multiple cook books into each other, Large Hadron Collider style, and then excising everything not soup. As a result of such thins, we are going to have the occasional error, like a DNA molecule that hangs on and still causes us to have an appendix long after the usefulness has gone. Like an appendix, sometimes the whole thing gets infected, and then swells, and explodes, and kills you. Errors occur, things lurk, horrors exist in racial memory like the understanding of weird gods the world forgot. I don’t blame Consulting Editor Anne Sheasby for the recipe, only for its continued inclusion.

I’ve used The Ultimate Soup Bible before, and have made gazpacho a fair number of times, so I know both of those things are good. It’s this one recipe, actually it’s down to one step. After I had cut the ingredients down to small pieces and deposited them into the container, the crazy bastard who wrote this recipe (credited as A. Alhazred) then required it be dumped into a blender or food processor and then blended until “well combined but still chunky” and at that point it basically became a nameless horror from beyond the void. The colors were off, the texture and flavors were off, it became a bowl of fail. Had I simply stepped away from the precipice, had I only looked into the abyss and not let the abyss look into me, had I but resisted the madness. But no, when they came for the bowl of gazpacho, I said nothing because I was not a bowl of gazpacho. Syd said it tasted fine, and maybe it did, but you can’t prove it by me. She agreed that it was wrong, but she ate it anyway, because she is beyond concepts like good and evil.

I cannot express the level that blending the mixture turned what could have been a good soup into a horror show. Even pop music couldn’t save us. I haven’t done a lot of editing on these photos, the pale looking mess is not a result of bad photography. Do not adjust your set, the soup controls the horizontal, the avocados control the vertical. Yeah. There is also something about avocado salsa, but we’re not even going to talk about THAT walking nightmare. I have not yet mastered the art of picking an avocado, ‘nuff said. So go ahead and skip this one, maybe go for one of the other 399 recipes the book boasts. Of course, at this point, who can tell if one of those others isn’t also an eldrich horror? This, my dears, my darlings, is why faith still exists.

Do not let an error dissuade you from experimentation my friends. A single dark demon from the dungeon dimensions is not the end of the world. Do not despair my lovelies! Let not one set back hold you down. It’s not over! Nothings over until WE say it’s over! Was it over when the marshmallows had been undercooked and I was left with nothing but a mess of green goo that tried to eat a child? NO! Was it over when the two turduckens just wouldn’t cook through? NO! Was it over when... oh hell I don’t even know. There have been a lot of errors in the past. This time though, the error was in following the recipe and not my heart. The idea was to follow the instructions though... and that failed us. Okay, let’s go full Calvinball!

I had to bribe Pitching Wizard into the photo through the use promise of booze.

All the Books: Recipe #2 – Sweet Corn Cakes.

So this week’s cookbook is “The Best of Waffles & Pancakes” By Jane Stacey. A friend of mine named Suze gave me this book one... Birthday? Christmas? Arbor Day? VEWPRF? Halloween? Some gift giving time. She’s a wonderful person and there was a time when having a personal brand seemed important for reasons that don’t make sense anymore when I try to think of them. There was a time when I would talk about waffles like they were a holy item. There was nothing more spectacular to me than a plate of waffles. But something changed you guys, something died inside me and I try to pretend that it’s just maturity taking root, but the reality is that I would give almost anything to get idiotically excited about a plate of waffles again. Since my ancient branding involved waffles, it was of course natural that someone would get me a cookbook. Well, Suze did.



It’s a pretty good cookbook, and has a fair amount of recipes that you can shift and adapt. It’s just... well... here’s the thing. They aren’t messing around when they tell you this is a best of collection. This is a super slim volume, as you can see in the photos of my two co-hosts. Yes, we have Pitching Wizard, we will always have Pitching Wizard, but there is also a bottle of Zombie Killer from B. Nektar, which I quite enjoy. The point is, that is not a thick volume, it comes in at just under 100 pages. There is a catch all crepe recipe, and a base pancake and waffle recipe that can be adapted for any purpose though. They didn’t waste time, space or paper in the production of this book. Recipes are well laid out, and this one has separate list of ingredients for the relish that goes with the cake. Had I paid a little better attention, I wouldn’t have made my fatal mistake.



I try to make things to the book the first time I make them. If I am trying a recipe out, I will make it exactly to how the writer said, so I can judge if it’s good or not. If you ever want to adapt, that’s fine, but the first time make it to the book. The reason is, if you don’t love it, then you know it’s not because you substituted sour cream for heavy cream and threw the balance of liquids off. Speaking of throwing off the balance and making the dish go wrong... I put balsamic vinegar in the cake, rather than in the relish. I lost focus for that one fateful second. I let my mind wander. I have no excuse and can only throw myself on your tender mercies. I noticed I had made the mistake, so the relish got it’s vinegar, but so did the cake. The result is that my cakes were not a crisp on the outside or as light as they should have been. I am not a down-home cook, I don’t think I ever made a fritter in my life before this experience. However, I have eaten some and “chewy” should not be the adjective that leaps to mind. So I screwed up a little, but that’s on me.



The resulting dish tasted good though. There was a good balance between flavors, and the relish worked quite nicely with the steaks we had along with the cakes. So not a perfect effort, but probably the next time I make these I’ll do better. When will I make them again though? In a year or two? I have a lot of cookbooks to go. That’s sort of going to become a problem . If the family likes something, when will we ever get to eat something twice? I guess I’ll worry about that later, for now the case calls to me and I must go and pick another book. Another recipe must be made and another photo shoot and post written.



Witness me.

All the Books: Recipe #1 – Chicken with Herb Crusts

All the Books: Recipe #1 – Chicken with Herb Crusts


Let’s make this simple, I own a lot of cookbooks. Like a lot of people who cook, I would just buy them and put them on my shelf and go on my merry way not noticing that books would rather pile up. Oh, how they pile up, I have given a few away, lost a few, had a few appear without my ever have remember obtaining them, and now have about 55 or so. I say or so, because we are still finding new books. The other day, Syd came to me with a cookbook I had never seen before. Here is a look at most of them, more books have been discovered since this photo was taken. Yes, the damn things have been multiplying since this weekend.



The real tragedy is, many of these books have never rated even a cursory glance from me. That all ends today. Today, we cook! Well, this week we cook. Yesterday. I cooked this yesterday. I’m getting ahead of myself. Years ago, a friend of ours decided they would have to cook at least one dish from each of their books. Today (yesterday) we begin this challenge. We begin with a simple chicken dish taken from the following book. The rules are very simple, I tell you what the book is, how I got it, a brief overview of the recipe and how I found it. Points will be handed out at the whim of the judges. Whoever had the most points at the end will be declared both the winner and the King of Christmas in July. That will either lead to human sacrifice, or me kissing a girl’s hand saying “Fifty Watts per channel, baby cakes.”



Chicken in Herb Crust, from Chicken: Over 400 Fabulous Recipes For All Occasions Edited by Simona Hill. We got this book in about 2006, when Holly was still around and the idea of buying what amounts to a compilation of all the cookbooks Barnes & Noble was publishing made sense for $10. They basically took all the chicken recipes they had, and found the imaginative title of Chicken, because otherwise you might mistake it for a series of lamb dishes. It’s actually a good cook book, and laid out exactly how I like them. A good, representative color photo of the dish, ingredients down one column and relatively easy to follow instructions. I don’t turn my nose up at a book without illustration, but it helps to be able to look at a photo and see how badly you’re screwing up.



This is pretty easy as recipes go. I made it without deviation, hesitation or repetition save for one minor bit and I’ll mention that. You spread some mustard onto some chicken breasts, you press bread crumbs into the mustard (they should be herbed crumbs, but I bought Italian bread crumbs which come pre-herbed, because I only have so much time in my day) and then you drizzle butter over everything to make a nice crust and pop it into a 350 oven for half an hour or so. Or if you’re me, you put it in at 425 for 25 minutes. I find speeding chicken along seems to get me less loss of juice. I say seems, because I have never broken out the Bunsen burners and done a real scientific test.

And you get this...



The chicken was moist and yummy, and the rice was certainly a side dish. That’s a little mess of my own, I cooked some bacon and put it in the rice cooker with the rice. I then put in the remainder of the peppers and tomatoes from Sunday’s omelet. It went with the chicken pretty well, but it wasn’t much of a player on the plate. I won’t say it did nothing, but it... could have done more. If it wasn’t just some thrown together mess, if I’d planned just a little better, it could have been a contender... it could have been somebody.



And so we ate, and everyone agreed it was good. Next week, there will be another book and another recipe, unless I hit one before then. This was going to be a weekend project, when I would have time to cook and photograph. But I was here, the chicken was here, the bread crumbs were here. I figured I could talk my way out of this one. We shall see. And next time, there will be photos with a better camera than my cell phone. But hey, at least The Pitching Wizard approves.

Why Do You Still Need Feminism? (A Discussion About Food Preparation)

We sat at the counter and ate and drank. "Did you make the spaghetti sauce?" she said.
"Yeah. A secret recipe I got off the back of the tomato paste can."
"And the salad dressing? Is there honey in it?"
"Yep. Got that from my mother."
She shook her head. "Fighter, lover, gourmet cook? Amazing."
"Nope. I'll take the fighter, lover, but the gourmet cook is a sexist remark."
"Why?"
"If you'd cooked this no one would say you were a gourmet cook. It's because I'm a man. A man who cooks and is interested in it is called a gourmet. A woman is called a housewife. Now eat the goddamned spaghetti." I said.
She did. Me too.

Promised Land - By Robert B. Parker (1976)


There is something you are taught in therapy, I have been told. I myself have never had more than a brief fling with therapy (it becoming obvious quite quickly that it actually wasn’t me that had the problem the one time I went in for real) but I have been told and I have read a lot. You’re not supposed to make “You Statements” when you talk about something bothering you, but rather “I Statements”. It’s not supposed to be “You do this to annoy me!” but instead go for “I am annoyed by this.” which brings charges that therapy makes people selfish, because they talk more about themselves than they do about other people. I’m often thrown by this, because the complaint often becomes “She just talks about herself and doesn’t want to gossip anymore.” or “They won’t just sit and listen to me anymore!” and I check out of the conversation from there. As a result, I’m going to try to use a lot of I Statements here, because I want to talk about how a thing effects me as well as others.


I’ve listened to a lot of Men’s Rights stuff over the last few years, and almost agreed with some of it. The problem is that they often loose me the more they talk, see if you can see where I’m going with this little playlet.

MRA – Men aren’t allowed to be what they want in this society!
Me – Okay, you’ve almost got something of a point there. (Let’s see what you do with it)
MRA – We’re as trapped as women by the expectations of modern life.
Me – Here! Here! (Why can’t a man wear a dress?)
MRA – Which is why feminism needs to go away!
Me – I’m sorry?
MRA – Women need to get back into the kitchen and remember their place!
Me – Wha-Huh?
MRA – And then men can be MEN again!
Me – What in the seven levels of hell are you talking about?
MRA – Bitches won’t date me! I’m Unwillingly Celibate!
Me – Um....
MRA – I mean, I open doors and everything.
Me – Okay, you need to shut up now or I will beat you to death with this small decorative elephant that a relative gave me as a memento of their trip to Mexico. Why a brass elephant from Mexico, I’ve always wondered, but I will kill you with it.
MRA – You’re just saying that because *URK*!
Me – *thump* Muthafucka! *thump* I did say. *thumpthumpthump*


NOW! Why was I even listening to this person at the start? It has to do with the quote I started with. A person starting with that phrase can go one of two ways, you can either go towards some idea of gender equality, or towards the idea that you should be handed “hot bitches” free with every oil change. I am not going to go into the whole argument here, but if you shower and if you open doors because you’re polite (instead of making a speech about chivalry and how now people OWE YOU for being a decent person) then things will actually go easier for you. It’s not that women love jerks, if they did, they’d go for some of you self-professed Nice Guys.

That’s not even what I called you all here to discuss!

I cook, I have always cooked, ever since I was a child I have cooked. When I have cooked, there have always been people who have treated this like it’s some kind of magic. As if I stood back away from the stove, rolled up my sleeves and yelled “Ala-ca-muthafuckin-ZAM!” and with a brilliant yellow flash (which would mean there was sodium in the mixture) there was suddenly food. Even people who themselves knew how to cook treated this mystical skill of mine like something I learned at the feet of Wong Fei Hung. Because I was a male, and cooking, it was regarded as an odd and noteworthy event.

I was quite old before I realized that I actually could cook quite well, enviably well in fact. That it wasn’t just people reacting to the notion of a male-child applying the mystic roots and ancient flames to ingredients in order to create food from non-edible matter. The concept of a male cooking has become less noteworthy over the last twenty years or so, but well into my early twenties it was still an odd and interesting thing to talk about. That I was basically the only one in our house that did the cooking, was often seen as weird and frankly wrong.

Now, Syd can cook some. In that she can cook some things, when she puts her mind to it. I suppose if she had to cook all the time, she would probably be good at it, but she doesn’t need to. Holly could just about toast bread and spread peanut butter on it without burning the house down. She was more than happy to let me do the cooking, because she had no interest at all. In fact, most the women I’ve dated haven’t had much use for the notion of cooking, allowing someone else to do it as much as possible. Just a thing, like so many others. Women I have dated have many a similarity. ANYWAY. I get annoyed at the idea though, that because I cook I am performing magic. It’s bad enough when I actually do something magical, like make a marshmallow. It’s doubly annoying when someone treats any application of heat to food like I’ve performed some kind of goddamned miracle and should have statues erected in my fabulous honor. (Note, I’m not saying cancel the statue, it’s a great statue, but honor my skills as a world-class lover, not as someone who can cook.)

The problem with all gender issues boils down to the cooking thing for me. Sexual identity means something to me, because all identity issues mean something to me. How you identify yourself is important, because without self-identity where are you? What you decide to be, who you are, how you act, how you present yourself to the world, it all has an impact. Sometimes it’s changing everything about you (even fixing physical errors you were stuck with by the cheap dvergar laborers that the gods hire for people construction) and sometimes it’s just doing what you feel most comfortable with.

Cooking should not be considered some kind of transsexual affair, and I should be considered a hero for doing it. And yet, I was by people who thought they were admiring me. I often got treated like I was some brave pioneer, throwing off the yoke of gender identity roles while... I dunno, cooking without an apron. I have never worn an apron, I don’t tuck a towel into my belt either. I just keep a hand towel on the stove and this isn’t important. I was actually called “Pretty Brave” by someone who was well meaning and thought they were delivering a compliment. When asked to elaborate, they said some people would “call you queer for doing that” and that “it’s kinda gay for a guy to cook” but that I made it “look masculine”. I almost felt bad killing that person and leaving their body in a peat bog but it was the only way people will learn! Now remember, that was supposed to be a compliment. It didn’t feel like one at the time, and the person began to see how I felt about it as the interview continued.

No one has ever tried to insult me, or threaten me because I canoodle in the kitchen (cooks have VERY big knives) but they do belittle the event with this notion of gender normativism. It’s deeply insulting to think that only a woman is really supposed to cook, and it harms both me and the woman not cooking to say so. That, if I may conclude where I intended to begin, is why I still need feminism. Yeah, it’s not as big as other people’s, but I’m a cis-gendered middle class white male. If I don’t like something you do or say to me, I’m still legally allowed to burn your house down (unless you are an upper-class white male) because, you know, privilege. That’s just it though, as a therapeutic tool, this has to be about me, not about you. Still though, it’s a sign, one that comes even up to the cis-gendered middle class white guy level that says “Shit’s still broken!” and asks us to fix it. The deeper we go, the more problems we're going to find, and if this one made it to the surface...

When I’m still being applauded for being a man that cooks, and rape culture is still a thing that people pretend doesn’t exist, and gender stereotypes are still rigidly enforced... can any of us say we’re truly free? There are eight million stories in the Naked City Internet, this is one of them.

If the Food Didn't Kill You, You Probably Cooked it Fine.

People get very defensive about articles like these, you know why? Because they resent someone stating their preference as solid fact. And I think they REALLY resent someone who, to them, is completely unproven telling them that they can't cook. I have never heard of this person before in my life, why the hell should I listen to them? No, really. I've never heard of them, and at least the way the article quoted them makes them sound like a complete dickhead.

I'm gonna throw it down right here. I'm gonna say it. There is no right or wrong way to cook an egg. There is a preferable method that will yield the result you are looking for, but there is really no wrong way. This is very much an issue of tone and I'll bet 4 out of 5 people who commented on this article didn't really read it, they just reacted to the smug, irritating tone. Some of them clearly only read the kind of offensive headline and wrote the whole thing off from there. Because being told you're doing it wrong is an instant way to get people worked up though, and works as effective click bait, they went with that. Problem is, people are now not going to buy this person's book, because they think he's an asshole who tells you that you can't cook. And people are basically tired of being told they're doing everything wrong by worthless foodies who are a blight on humanity. And how hard would it be to say "This is a great method that you might like." instead of "UR DOIN IT WRONG!" which annoys people? It's not just this article, almost every other food article is dedicated to telling you that you're either cooking wrong, or eating wrong, or dining out wrong, or having the wrong thing, and I just think about my Grandma, who would have put a stiletto between your third and fourth rib if you told her she shouldn't be eating what she's eating.

And, allow me to state for the record, if you served my grandmother the runny-ass eggs this person is suggesting, she would have garroted you. Grandma didn't fuck around when it came to breakfast and I still have a scar across my left shoulder from the day she grazed me with a .22 for over cooking her bacon. Light and fluffy, that's the scrambled egg my grandmother showed me. And when the person teaching you killed six men with a ball peen hammer the night before, let's just say you pay attention. Are grandma's eggs cooked wrong? No. Was Grandma wrong? A little impetuous perhaps. I still maintain those last two were trying to surrender. However, I loved my grandma too much to deny her the joy of smacking their heads like grapefruit. Grandma loved the old ultra-violence so.

Anyway, the method explained here is fine, but don't think it's the one true way. I can take either to me honest, but that's because I'm agreeable. Always be agreeable, no one wants to try and kill the guy who agrees to things and once hung a Bulgarian on a meathook for seven hours patiently and agreeably watching him bleed out. To be fair, he did have that coming, and I was doing the whole smiling and nodding and saying "Yes, for the love of god." bit which worries people to no end when you can make it go seven hours. You don't kill my protegee, them's the rules.

There is no one true way in cooking. Cook things the way you want to eat them, learn different methods so you can find out what you like, and leave people who tell you that you're eating or cooking wrong tied to a tree in the desert and listen for them coyotes. That's what Grandma would ave done to this guy. Grandma loved to hear a man being torn apart by coyotes. She was a cruel woman, and deeply unfair in her cruelty.

Love you grandma, miss you everyday.

Goddamn Quiche Goddamnit!

There is a book called Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche, and as far as I can tell, the contents are what it says on the cover. I don’t know if it’s meant as satire on the attitude that men don’t eat quiche, or if it really means it. I’ve never read it, and I’m not really interested, because we’re past that crap. Also, I read more satire before I was ten than most people read their whole lives. I know, it explains a lot.

Real Men are secure enough in their sexuality to eat whatever the hell they want. It’s the 400 pound gorilla issue really. Or, if I may get a bit True Scotsman on your ass, no Real Man would be afraid to eat quiche and pronounce it thus. Yeah, how do you like that? Now you gotta eat it or you’re a sissy little girl. Wait, that implies an insult to both sissies and little girls and I don’t want to limit my audience. Hmm, ah well, can’t worry about every damn thing. Let’s get to the quiche!

The thing is, quiche is actually pretty manly. It’s a pie, which is already 30-50 times more manly than cake. Second, it’s your whole breakfast in one bite. Done right, it should have egg, cheese, bacon, and ham in each and every mouthful. Yeah, we ain’t got time for sitting around breaking off bits of this and a corner of that WE IS MENS! We get the whole thing in each bite. It doesn’t fall apart, so you can eat it with your hands, and members of the advanced class can put raw steak in it. If quiche were any more manly, it would come with a cock!

Quiche is pretty simple really. What you need is three eggs and half a cup of cream. That’s it. That’s all. You can have a full cup cream or only two eggs, because personal preference comes fairly heavily into this. Personal preference can also come into dress as well. You can make your quiche while wearing a tutu, or a heavy camo army jacket. Advanced class members may wear both, but only if you also wear combat boots and a tiara. For my quiche though, it’s three eggs, one half cup cream. Your pie crust, amounts of filling, and how runny or firm you like things is going to have an effect on everything in this recipe, so experiment.

Eggs are cheap, cream is pretty cheap and you can use milk if you want. But I’m not just talking about eggs here. Buy some silk panties your size, wear a tank top, listen to Wagner, date someone of a variety you’d never thought to date before. Go out with people of both genders and all races, give everything a try. Drink heavily, at least once, just so you know what a hangover feels like. Go dancing until dawn and watch the sun come up while listening to soft Elizabethan music. Add pointless examples to a recipe to pad out your paragraphs. See what works for you, then do that. In all things.

For filling, the recipe is going to call for one thing and I’m going to tell you another. What I’m going to tell you here, between us, is that anything cooked can be used. Whatever leftovers are in the fridge can be used, from hash browned potatoes to that chicken chow mein from the other night. I suppose some raw things like celery or lettuce can be put in, but I’d feel more comfortable if you cooked them first. It’s going to end up cooked no matter what, but yeah, I’d cook things. The only thing you need to make sure of is that it’ll fit your pie crust before you begin. If you don’t know, then use the original method for pouring and filling described below.

Speaking of pie crusts, you can buy ready made from your grocer’s freezer. Here’s the really cool part about this... no one is ever going to know. Yeah, there are some things that are special and you want to do those things right, but this isn’t one of them. This is an egg and bacon pie. Just get a ready to bake crust and use that. Usually, the ones I buy come in pairs, so I always make two quiches at a go. You can bake them before hand, just to make them nice and crispy, or not. I’ve tried it both ways, and I’ve still not made my mind up. The pros say you should bake the crust before hand, which means beans or weights, or trying to gently flatten the crust when it tries to rise a bit.

Now my basic quiche is a ham and spinach number. I’m not a big fan of gruyere, so I used cheddar and parmesan. You know what you like? Get that. If you don’t know what you like, try everything. Actually try everything anyway. You want to be a person? You gotta try stuff, otherwise you’re just another useless lump of half-evolved non-humanity. Ain’t got time for that shit. Ain’t nobody got time for that shit. I get some finely diced ham, about ¾ of a cup, ¼ a pound of bacon, one clove of garlic, half a yellow onion, and a big handful of spinach that you’ve sliced. Now, what you want to do is slice everything small and put it in a frying pan. Bacon first, ham second, garlic third, onion fourth, spinach last. Now of course, when I make it, I double these amounts because of the two pie pans, so keep that in mind if you have two. Make sure the bacon is cooked before throwing in the ham, make sure the ham is browned before adding the garlic and onions, and let them sit for a little while before adding the spinach. Now remember, the spinach is going to look like a big old mess, but it will reduce in size with the heat. Just give it a tossing around until it wilts down and becomes manageable. This will all be fairly quick. When the filling is done, take it off the heat, maybe drain it if you don’t want to die of cholesterol poisoning, and set it aside. You have to let it get cool, or you will ruin everything and I will despise you.

Now comes the eggs! Put the eggs and milk into a bowl, add some seasoning if you desire. A bit of salt and pepper are fine, chives are nice, just make sure anything you add is chopped very small or is dried and crumbles well. Get yourself a whisk and do what a whisk was born to do. You don’t need to get it foamy or anything, just mixed up nicely will do. Now this is the unorthodox bit. Most the recipes for quiche I’ve seen have said you should arrange the ingredients on the crust and then pour the mixture over them. That’s the traditional way and you can have it if you want it. Here is a method I’ve used to some success though. You know that stuff we made a little while ago and put aside? I bet it’s cool enough not to cook the eggs right away. Let’s put it in the egg mix, with the cheese and then mix it all up before pouring it into the pie crust. This will ensure everything is held together by the egg and it won’t fall apart too much on the fork. However, if you’re interested in presentation, layering looks better. Really though, that’s not important. WE IS MENS!

What is important is that you remember to cook the quiche properly. Here is what I’ve found works best for me. I put it in a 475° oven, which I drop to 350° after about 5 minutes. Then I leave it for about 30 minutes, checking on it every ten minutes after that. When done right, the top should be set, but if you jiggle the pan you should see just a little bit of wiggling in the center. Not a lot of wiggling mind you, just a little. At that point remove from oven and let it sit for about fifteen minutes to firm up before cutting into it.

Now, here’s the thing, that is a hell of a lot of quiche. I mean, a lot of quiche. Even I can’t eat all of that quiche and I AM A MAN! So here’s what you do. Cut it into quarters, wrap each quarter in foil, put it in a ziplock bag and put it in the freezer. This will ensure that shame does not fall upon your house and you won’t be forced to commit seppuku when the shogun shows up and asks for some quiche. The Shogun is an inveterate quiche bum. He never has any himself, and always wants some of yours when he shows up. But he can order you to commit ritual suicide. So... you know... have some on hand. When you want some, you can either microwave it, or put in the oven at about 350 for fifteen to twenty minutes. If you put it in the oven, let it thaw first, or it’ll get weird. Don’t let things get weird, don’t do that to me.



Let’s get something we can put on a printable card

For Quiche
2 ready made pie crusts
6 Eggs
1 cup cream
½ cup grated parmesan
½ cup cheddar

For filling
1 ½ cup diced ham
½ pound thick cut bacon
2 cloves of garlic
1 yellow onion (diced)
2 cups Spinach (roughly cut)


Cook all the pie filling together in a pan. Set aside and allow to cool. In medium bowl, whisk the eggs and cream together. Add the cheese and filling, continue to mix with a spoon, spatula, or food safe sex toy. Pour mixture into pie pans evenly, then place in a 475° oven. After 5 minutes, lower temperature to 350° and continue baking for about 30 minutes or until quiche is set with a bit of wiggle in the center. Allow to cool for 15 minutes before serving.

Serves 8, but stores well and can be enjoyed later.

Crepes and Cherries

So you made a simple fried rice and some hibachi style steak for dinner right? Only you used one of your two eggs for the rice, and you want to make some crepes and all the recipes call for like... more than one sad fucking egg, yeah? NOT TO WORRY!

Check this shit out...

So you take your one sad-ass egg and you leave it on the counter IN A BOWL! The hell’s wrong with you? Don’t just leave a naked egg on the counter. The salt will get all randy and want to hump it and eggs are notoriously easy when it comes to salt. If the salt bangs your egg, you are fucked vis a vis the crepes. Yeah, I speak all kinds of French. Point is, the egg needs to reach room temperature. You also need to melt some butter, about half a table spoon, so leave that out next to the egg. The butter will chaperone (more French) the egg and keep the salt in its place.

NOW! While that whole... THING is going on, you got those cherries we talked about right? The fresh cherries? The ones I told you to get? Yeah, those ones. Slice ‘em, cut ‘em, rip their pits out. You’ll need about a cup or so, maybe two. Hell do nine pounds if it gets you off. I don’t care, but I will warn you, the salt likes to watch. Now put them in a pan with some brandy, or rum, or something equally nice. If you use vodka I will hit you, a lot. Then add sugar, about half a cup of sugar to a cup of cherries. Now boil it. Not too high of heat, but you want it to boil. Some water might be needed, if you’re kind of bad at syrup and can’t make the hooch behave the way you want it to. You need a syrup of medium consistency.

Done? Yeah? You sure? Okay! The syrup needs to cool a bit, so just let it sit there. You don’t need to set anything on fire. It’s not that kind of dish.

So now comes the hard part. Put one quarter cup of water, one quarter cup of milk one third of a cup of regular all purpose flour into a blender. Add the egg and butter, then set the salt to one side, and put a tiny amount in your hand. Put the salt in the mix, but don’t let the egg know what you’ve done or it’ll think it’s been ruined for marriage and the butter will commit seppuku because butter takes the virtue of eggs seriously and you don’t need that shit. Hit the button and mix the ingredients. Now, I know I didn’t explicitly tell you to put the lid on the blender, but that’s because I assumed you could put those particular pieces together. Was my faith in you justified? Only time will tell.

Now comes the hard part. Put the blender pitcher in the fridge for about half an hour. During that time you can remake your syrup if you screwed it up, or give the salt a lecture on moral fortitude, or go out and buy the ice cream that you forgot is needed for this dish, or have sex if you're quick, or listen to an episode of The News Quiz. If sex takes too long, not to worry, you do no harm to the mixture, an hour or two is okay.

You got a nice smooth teflon pan, yeah? About eight to twelve inches across? Nothing fancy, just a normal, shallow, flat, smooth, teflon, pan. Medium high to high heat, depending on how gutsy you are. Okay, get some more butter. MOAR BUTTER! You can either melt this, or use it as a stick to lube up the pan, or you can stick it in your ear or eat it whole. Again, this ain’t my kitchen and I’m rarely as happy about that as I am right now. Lube the pan and pour some of the batter in there. Not too much, but we want to cover the bottom of the pan. Shake it around a little to get a good covering and when it begins to slide around on its own try to flip it over. If it splatters, or isn’t firm on top when you flip, you put in too much, use less next time. You just want the other side there for a few seconds, just to make sure it’s done. Then take it out and put it on the plate. Either the person with you can start the desert, or you can WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! This won’t take long, there is only enough batter for four crepes.

Put the crepe on a plate, then put a single spoonful of ice cream (We used cherry from Oberweis, but life probably sucks for you and you don’t have an Oberweis near you) and some of the cherry syrup on the crepe, before folding it into a sort of cute little cone shape. Now if you’re a greedy motherfucker, you can load the thing up with more ice cream, or put whipped cream on it, but this dish doesn’t need that. It needs just a bit of ice cream and a bit of cherry syrup. Don’t make me come for you all Liam Neeson style because you can’t be trusted with dessert.

So now you’ve made crepes with ice cream and cherry syrup, or you’ve made a damn mess. Either way, I am proud of the effort you’ve made, and Fancy is proud of you and Ringo is proud of you, but I can’t give you this briefcase because it doesn’t belong to me.

Marshmallows of Glory

Marshmallows

I do hope you’re prepared for the fact that you’ll hear the phrase “How do you make marshmallows?” again and again and again. People seem to think that marshmallows are simply plucked from Marshmallow Trees somewhere, probably in Morocco. The thing is, it’s very simple. Boil sugar and corn syrup and then put it in a mixer with some gelatin and mix for a while before pouring it into a pan. Yeah, that’s it, good luck!

...

Okay, it’s slightly more complex than that, but not by much. And yet, people will look upon you as though you had conjured the marshmallows out of thin air and will expect you to perform further feats of magic. Understand, you WILL be asked to bring poor Mittens back to life, to stop the seas from raging and if at all possible, to put things to right like they were in the old days that never actually existed. If you can handle the responsibility, then make these marshmallows with my blessing. If you’re worried about being able to perform the requests people will make of you, then you may wish to wait until I post my “How to stop the raging seas” and “How to bring kittens back to life” instructions. The only way to stop requests to bring back the old days is a short, sharp smack upside the head and a pronouncement that someone needs to understand reality. It’s helpful to have one of these marshmallows on hand after you smack someone, as anything can be forgiven after eating one of these things.

Yeah, I buy at Kroger.

Here is the method, so that you might make some on your own. Get three envelopes of unflavored gelatin. All gelatin envelopes are a standard amount, ¼ an ounce. At least this has always proven to be true wherever I’ve traveled and found the need to make gelatin products. If France, Germany, Japan, America and Canada can get along with the idea that a packet of gelatin should only contain so much, than I think Spain and Australia can be trusted to follow along with this program. So you want ¾ of an ounce of gelatin. If you’re of the vegan persuasion, you can get some agar powder, which I’ve been told can be substituted on a one-to-one ratio. Agar is kind of expensive, and I have no reason to need it, so I can’t say I’ve actually tested it. However, I don’t want vegans to think they can’t have any marshmallows, so I’m including this information. Either way, get the gelatin/agar and put it in your mixing bowl with half a cup of water to bloom for a while. It doesn’t mater if it turns into a mass of gel at the bottom of the bowl, it will melt when the hot syrup is poured on it. Speaking of syrup…

CHEAP!

You’ll need about 1 and ½ cups of sugar, or 12 ounces if you prefer. You will also need 1 cup of light corn syrup, which presumably doesn’t need to be weighed as I’ve never seen a weight measurement attached. One might presume that as a liquid, it can be trusted not to change volume when shifted, but as nothing else is measured by weight I think someone was just showing off. You’ll notice a moment ago I mentioned honey. Good for you spotting that, well done, three points for you. You can replace the corn syrup with honey, which will give the marshmallows a strong honey flavor. If you go for honey, you don’t need any other flavoring, although you can try to mix in things that will compliment the honey flavor. Also remember that depending on what kind of honey you use, the resulting marshmallows will not be white but a shade between very pale yellow to a nice light gold color. The darker the honey, the darker the marshmallow, but they’ll only get really genuinely yellow with food coloring. I would add food coloring to the gelatin while it blooms if I were you, if you desire coloring that is. You can experiment with this for a while because sugar, gelatin, corn syrup, and food coloring are all pretty cheap if you buy right. If you buy wrong, it could run into the millions. The only problem will be getting rid of all the marshmallows, which actually can be pretty easy as well. Once people have real home made, they seldom want to go back to the jet-puffed variety.

Now, you put those two items into a pan with half a cup of cold water and a pinch of salt, put the heat to them. You’re looking to achieve a maximum of 240° which can be divined with a candy thermometer, or a digital thermometer. It can be a bit lower than that, but only by a few degrees and it should not be any higher or you’ll have some real trouble down the line. I aim for 237° myself, but don’t worry too much. If it gets too hot, you can just re-add water. This should take seven minutes. If you don’t have a thermometer on hand, you can look up what the softball method means and use that. I have done both and they work equally well provided you know what the hell you’re doing, which I do. See, what you’re doing is boiling off the water to produce a perfect ratio of sugar to water. The temperature is a good indicator, because of a lot of science-y things that I’m not going to go into right now. Just be careful, because we are talking first and possibly second degree burns should you spill any of this on your skin.

DOOOOOO IIIIT!

When the mixture is to the proper temperature take it directly from the stove to the mixing bowl. I do hope you have a standing mixer, because otherwise you will be standing in one place for a long while. Ten to fifteen minutes, depending on the power of your mixer. Let’s assume you have a standing mixer, let us further imagine you have put the whisk attachment on and now allow us to imagine you are aboard a starship in orbit around an alien planet and have been asked to whip something up for the chief ambassador of the Jatravartid people that might really impress them. Hell, if we’re imagining, why pretend we’re in your kitchen hiding from your Aunt Margret? Start the mixer on low, to break up the gelatin and then slowly pour the syrup into the bowl. Don’t pour it into the middle, let it slid down the side of the bowl. Safety first. Remember what I was saying about second degree burns? Yeah, I wasn’t joking about that, and this stuff will stick to you and keep burning for months.

HOT!

Once the mixture in completely in the bowl, then turn up the mixture to full power, or maximum warp if you’re on that starship I mentioned earlier. Then walk away because you’ve probably got 12 minutes if your standing mixer is anything like mine. If you leave it longer, you’ll get slightly stiffer marshmallows, leave it a shorter time and you’ll get denser, squishier mallows. Either way, you’ve got time to spray a 13 inch by 9 inch baking pan with nonstick spray and then put ¼ cup cornstarch and ¼ powdered (confectioner’s if you must) sugar together into a sifter and sort of tap out just enough to cover the pan. Put a cover on the pan, either a cover that came with it or aluminum foil. Then shake it to make sure the sides are nicely dusted. Now, you don’t need exactly 13 by 9 inches, you can use two smaller pans, or a 12 by 10 or even a 10 by 8 in a pinch. However, the thickness will be affected, so keep that in mind. Just make sure you thoroughly dust the pan. Putting too much of the powder mixture on the pan is frankly preferably to having not enough. Not to put too fine of a point on it, but these things stick like crazy and if you haven’t dusted your pans properly then I wish you every bit of luck in your endeavor to remove them from the pan properly, but will offer no actual help.

Dust that bitch

By now, your mallows should have gone through their 12 minutes in the mixing bowl. During the last minute, you can add vanilla extract. If the mixture is a big massive ball hanging to the whisk and looks like it would be very hard to get off the tines of the whisk, you left the syrup boiling too long. This is not a problem, the marshmallows will just be a bit stiff instead of light and fluffy. If you watch carefully, you can add a little water during the mixing process and thin the mix out a bit, but that’s advanced class stuff and I suggest just dealing with the stiffer mallows for now. If it’s a thinnish mixture that doesn’t hold to the tines hardly at all, you didn’t boil long enough and I’m not sure if anything can help. If there is too much water, the mallows will keep being sticky and sort of slimy. You can use them to make rice crispy treats though, so don’t abandon hope just yet. If it looks mostly like liquid in the pan, but it’s holding tenaciously on to the tines of the whisk then you’re just about perfect. Now spray a spatula with nonstick spray and work fast. I’ll talk about clean up later.

Mix it up, get in there!

You need to get the mixture off the tines as fast as you can without worrying too much. You won’t get it all, just try not to waste much. Then pour the contents of the bowl into the pan, scooping out as much of the mallow-mix as possible, and then flattening out the mixture into the pan as well as you can manage. This will be a bit of a pain because the mixture doesn’t want to flatten out. That’s okay though, just try to get the top as flat as you can manage, we’re not looking for perfection here. Okay, I’m not looking for perfection from you, I always look for it in myself. Take some more of that sifter with the cornstarch/powdered sugar mix and dust the top of the marshmallow slab. If you powder your hands, you can press it with your fingers to achieve an even distribution. Now comes the easy part, walk away for 8 hours. You can cut in as little as 3, but I’m going to go ahead and suggest waiting the full 8 or even 10 hours before de-panning the marshmallows. Cover lightly with the foil to keep the dust off, but allow some air flow.

Imagine that this photo has the foil on the pan.

When it comes time to de-pan, get a cutting board bigger than the pan. Put a little more powder mix down on the board and then do something for me. With your fingers (which I would pray are clean but as I’ve never found and god to be greater than me, and thus never found one worthy of worship, I’ll simply hope are clean) gently pry the sides of the marshmallow mass away from the side of the pan. Just reach touch the edge and gently pull to see that it all comes away. If it does that easily, then you’re ready. The top of the marshmallow should be dry, there should still be powder mix on top of it. If you didn’t boil long enough, it will be wet and have absorbed the mix. If you’ve done it just right, it should be sort of springy, but firm. Now, turn the pan over and let the large marshmallow slip from the pan and onto the board. OR! If you’ve done this right, you should be able to just pull the mallow from the pan. Either way, it depends on how dramatic you feel. A good swirl and bang of the pan onto the board sure does get the cats’ attention. Complacent bastards need waking up now and then.

DUST ALL THE THINGS! ALL OF THEM!

Now, do you have the powder mix at hand? Good. Because you’ll want it. Now don’t mistake this giant marshmallow for your pillow, or you will have lived the reverse of that joke. Instead, using a pizza cutter, cut the mallow into long strips. You may need to put a little powder onto your pizza cutter. Once you’ve cut one way, gently pull the strips apart and lay them on their sides. There should be powder below them and the sides laying next to each other should be well powdered, there is but one thing left to do… powder the tops! Then, get back in there with your pizza cutter and cut them into cubes. Again, carefully pull them apart and roll them around the board with more powder until all sides are gently powdered and no longer sticking together. With luck, this can all be done on the cutting board and you can toss them back into the pan when done. Without luck, none of us can hope to survive past the age of three months. That being said, you can put the powder mix into a bowl and toss the marshmallows a dozen at a time if you like. Hell, you can drizzle hot sauce into the mix during the mixing stage and serve them up as a practical joke to the Jatravartid ambassador if it blows your skirt up. This is entirely up to you. I’m not here to tell you how to make your marshmallows, nor am I the marshmallow police. I am simply trying to tell you how you can make them at home, everything is up to you.

GET 'ER DONE!




Cut a bitch!

So let’s talk about adaptation for a moment. Almond extract is good, but you only need a quarter teaspoon because it’s strong stuff. Peppermint extract is nice, and though I’ve never tried it, I’ve been told that you can add Dutch process chocolate to the mix at the flavoring stage without much trouble. Just remember to add your flavoring within the last minute or two of mixing. Most extracts are made with alcohol, which has a low boiling point and will evaporate if left in the heat too long. You can even use pomegranate juice instead of water, which lends an interesting flavor and color to the mallows. I assume that cranberry, grape, apple, and prune juice would also work. As for clean up, this is 98% sugar. Just leave things to soak, they’ll more or less clean themselves. You’ll have to put things in the dishwasher, or go at them with a sponge, but just let them soak awhile and most the clean up work will be done for you.

I have no idea what the yield on this is. I can fill a gallon zip lock bag with them. Yeah, that’s your measurement, one gallon zip lock bag. They store for about three weeks, I presume, I’ve never had occasion to find out how long before they go stale. I will say though, don’t leave them out of the bag too long, they get… funky. The outside gets hard and ugly while the inside stays moist and it’s just unpleasant.

Okay, let’s try for the card sized version…


3 packages unflavored gelatin (or ¾ an ounce of agar)
1 cup ice cold water, divided
1 & 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup light corn syrup (Or possibly honey)
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or other things)
1/4 cup confectioners' sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
Nonstick spray

Place the gelatin in a bowl with 1/2 cup of the water. Combine the remaining 1/2 cup water, sugar, corn syrup and salt in a saucepan. Place over medium high heat, cover and allow to cook until the mixture reaches 235°-240° (F) approximately 7 to 8 minutes. Turn the mixer on low speed and, while running, slowly pour the sugar syrup down the side of the bowl into the gelatin mixture. Turn the mixer to high for approximately 12 to 15 minutes. Add the flavoring during the last minute of whipping. While the mixture is whipping prepare the pans. Combine the confectioners' sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl. Lightly spray a 13 by 9-inch metal baking pan with nonstick cooking spray. Add the powder mix to coat the pan.

When ready, pour the mixture into the pan. An oiled spatula for spreading evenly into the pan. Dust the top with enough of the remaining sugar and cornstarch mixture to lightly cover. Allow the mallow mass to sit for at least 4 hours and up to overnight. Turn the marshmallows out onto a cutting board and cut into 1-inch squares using a pizza cutter dusted with the powder mix. Dust all sides of each marshmallow with the powder mix.

FUCK YEAH!

This recipe owes much to Alton Brown and Bakingdom.