Cake and Beer...Wait, what?

About two weeks ago, my sisters and I took a "Cooking With Beer" class at A la Carte in Lynbrook (Long Island). I know that most people would be excited for something like this, but I'm not much of a beer drinker. Don't get me wrong; back during my early college career, I mainlined Natural Light like it was my job. Of course, it would usually involve me screwing my eyes shut, holding my nose and chugging, since I found the taste absolutely vile. Even now, after trying an assortment of brews and flavors from around the globe, I just can't drink the stuff. The smell of it alone can make me a little queasy.

So, when my sisters and I received the cooking lesson as Christmas gift from our dad and stepmom, I couldn't help but to feel a little bit of trepidation. My track record for cooking is bad enough, but cooking with beer? Ouch.



Ya know what?

It really wasn't that bad.

Unfortunately, I got stuck at the office and arrived about 15 minutes late, but I think it worked out because I ended up being assigned to workstation with one of my sisters. Our task: bake a Chocolate Stout Cake. At first, the idea of combining something so perfect like chocolate with something so icky (to me) like Guiness seemed sacrilege. Then again, stuffing a beer can up the rump of an uncooked chicken didn't seem too thrilling to me either. (Side Note: Doesn't the title "Beer Butt Chicken" make you giggle?)

Well, let's just say my concerns melted away the moment that I set my eyes on the 1lb of chopped chocolate. It is a glorious site to behold.

Anyway, we followed the directions and I cautiously combined the unsalted butter, stout, and cocoa until it was a smooth, creamy mixture. It was incredible to watch and I could hardly believe that it contained beer! We flew through the rest of the recipe and poured our completed batter into the buttered and parchment-lined baking pans. Once they were set in the ovens, we turned to the chocolate icing.

Chocolate. Icing.

Forget the wheel. Moveable type is overrated. Who cares about electricity? Chocolate icing is the most amazing thing ever invented by mankind.

And who knew it was so easy to make? Whipping cream and chopped chocolate...that's all. So easy! Just think, I can make it whenever I want! ...Do you know how FAT I am going to get now?!

Kidding. Or not.

Moving on...

We set the bowl of icing into an ice bath so that it would be cool enought to frost the cakes. The cakes themselves baked rather quickly, and I was happy to see that they not only didn't burn, but appeared to stay very moist.


We set them to cool and wandered around the rest of the kitchen to spy on the others.

Hehehe. Beer Butt Chicken. Okay, okay, I'll stop now.

When the cakes were cool enough, we set about frosting them and decorating them at our leisure, since everyone else was still putting the finishing touches on their dishes. My sister even added a bit of coconut to hers, which looked awesome.


I spent a lot of time trying to make a design with the frosting. It didn't turn out too well in the photo, but I was rather pleased with the actual results.


The cakes were delicious; very rich and moist, but not overpowering. I was really pleased with the results. When I have the time, I'm going to attempt to make one again, maybe this time in a bunt pan. While surfing the web, I've seen a few variations that look like they could be interesting. We'll see. I will certainly post the results of any such experiment.

That's all for now, lovelies!

For Whom The Meatball Rolls

As you may have guessed, I love me some cheesy titles. I giggle maniacally as I brainstorm the lamest of the lame...and yes, I am that easily amused. I hope they give you a chuckle, too.

So, Boyfriend's birthday was about a week ago and we decided to host a potluck party...mainly because last time we threw a party and cooked everything ourselves, barely anyone ate! So, in lieu of gifts, people were instead asked to bring a yummy dish. It ended up working out really well; there was plenty of food, yet only a limited amount of leftovers. Plus, it just so happens that mostly everyone in our circle of friends is a decent cook. Whoddathunkit?

Since everyone else was expected to cook, I thought it was only right that I also attempt to make something edible. I decided to make my grandma's famous (well, famous to our family, anyway) meatballs.

Guess what!

Not only did they come out edible, but they tasted good!

Of course, I wouldn't be me if I didn't have a story to go along with the recipe, a generalized version of which appears below...can't give out ALL of Grandma's secrets, now can I? :)

As you will see, the recipe calls for a few cloves of garlic. Is it so wrong that I was actually unsure of what constituted a "clove"? I've never cooked with garlic myself, and for some reason, I've always assumed that a clove referred to the whole, unpeeled item that you buy in a grocery store. I had about five "cloves" and I was sitting at my kitchen table, peeling and chopping until my fingertips were aching, all the while thinking to myself, "I never realized Grandma's meatballs had SO MUCH garlic in them...my tastebuds must be warped". Luckily, I got a telephone call from my sister, a person who actually knows what she's doing in the kitchen. After letting suspicion gnaw at my gut, I finally plucked up the courage to risk ridicule and ask her exactly what a "clove" was.

Thank goodness. My sister's cackle of laughter was well worth the avoidance of killing my guests with garlic. Now I know the difference between a clove and a head of garlic, and my sister has fresh material to tease me with. And, Sis, if you're reading this...it's okay, because I'm still the cute one. Ha.

My other brilliant move was to NOT pay attention to labels on breadcrumb packages. I'm sure the meatballs would have had an interesting texture had I left the Panko breadcrumbs in the mixture, but I realized my mistake before I worked them in, therefore saving myself 3lbs of meat and about $15. I just had to sit there for the next 10 minutes and pick out every single morsel. Sigh.

I'm beginning to wonder if my inability to cook is actually due to ditziness and impatience, instead of just lack of talent. Hmm...

Well, after all that, the meatballs still came out pretty darn well. I was so relieved! The recipe below makes about 20 good-sized meatballs and is fairly straightforward. I'm looking forward to making them again soon...hopefully withOUT the mishaps!

Grandma's Famous Meatballs
Ingredients:
3lbs of ground beef
1 cup of plain breadcrumbs/crumbled stale Italian bread
1 cup grated cheese (parmesan or romano, whichever you prefer)
2 16oz cans of crushed tomatoes
4 cloves of garlic, minced
3 eggs
1/2 cup chopped parsley
1 cup of olive oil
1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
Salt (to taste)
Pepper (to taste)

1. In a large pot, empty the cans of crushed tomatoes and set it aside.
2. In a large bowl, combine groud beef, salt, pepper, 2/3 of cheese, eggs, parsley, and garlic.
3. Slowly add breadcrumbs and water to mixture, kneading as you go. Roll mixture into meatball (about 2.5 inches in diameter).
4. Lightly oil a heavy skillet and brown meatballs until they are evenly cooked on all sides.
5. Add the meatballs and the final large spoonful of parmesan cheese to the pot, along wit a teaspoon of salt.
6. Cover the pot an bring to a boil. After sauce and meatballs are brought to a boil, let simmer for two hours.

If at first you don't succeed...

...order Thai.

Unfortunately, that was how my first Sunday cooking experiment went. I had meant to post this story a bit earlier, but the past week has been crazy thanks to work and school. The semester is winding down and finals are right around the corner...joy.

I had wanted to cook something that felt like Autumn, so I spent a lot of time looking through various recipe websites and cookbooks before settling on a recipe by Jamie Oliver. I like Jamie, and that accent of his is adorable (which is obviously a reason to pick his recipe), so I figured, "Hey, why not?" and made my shopping list.

That list should have been the first warning sign that things wouldn't go as planned. First item on the list: leeks. Now I vaguely remembered having eaten leeks before, but hell if I knew what they were. So, first order of business was looking up pictures via Google, and instructions on how to prepare them. Easy enough to find, I thought. Look for the long green things with the white thingy on the bottom.

Right.

Anyway, I made the rest of the list without looking up anything else, which would later come back to bite me in the gluteus maximus, grabbed my my little red grocery cart and was out the door.

Oh, did I mention that it was already about 5PM by the time I left the apartment? Yeah, not very smart of me. Apparently my time management for anything to do with my personal life just stinks.

I went to Key Foods on 31st Street, where I figured I could find most of the ingredients on my list. First up was the fruit and veggie section. What I want to know is why leeks have to look so much like dandelion greens? I mean, come on, really? Finally, I asked an associate to help me verify that I had selected the right leafy green thing before moving on. The poultry section has been picked over pretty well, but I managed to find a nice pack of skinless, boneless breasts...which, Boyfriend later told me, were the wrong ones. I also needed shelled and roasted chestnuts to fold into the puff pastry for the topping, but could not find them and instead thought that I could just sub in crushed walnuts.

Finally, it was time to look for creme fraiche. I would like to point out that this is a VERY misleading name, for what it actually is. Now, every time I've had it, it has been with a dessert. So...naturally, I used my method of reasoning and decided that it had to be in the whipped cream family...only, I couldn't find it. The clock was winding down, and I wanted to get back home and start cooking before Boyfriend arrived home from work, so I became desperate. Seeing no other options that seemed rational (to me, anyway) I grabbed the first thing I could think of...Cool Whip.

No, I'm not joking. It's okay, I'll pause while you laugh. I heard that little snort of yours. Go on.

Is it out of your system yet? Good.

Yes, I grabbed a container of Cool Whip, paid, and headed home to get started. Just as I was prepping the kitchen to cook, Boyfriend called to see how things were going. I told him about my "hunting" expedition and what my plans were, sounding slightly shrill and quite stressed, since at this point it was almost 7PM. I casually mentioned how I couldn't find proper creme fraiche and a decided to use Cool Whip instead. There was silence on the phone. "You're joking, right?" was the response. I told him that I wasn't joking, and why did he ask?

There was a clatter on the other end of the line, and then a loud, whooping laughter.

He came back on the line and, in a very choked voice, proceeded to tell me that creme fraiche was actually related to sour cream.

Oh.My.God.

Well, I bucked up, thanked him very stiffly for the information (what can I say, I'm not a good sport when I'm embarrassed) and decided to see if I could just make the dish without the creme fraiche.

I put everything together, began combining ingredients...only to discover that I had completely forgotten the turkey meat at the grocery store.

All I can say is....thank goodness for Wave Thai.