• A Good Kind Of Flop

    November 14, 2008

    When my mother visited us earlier this week she told Yo-Yo and Becca Boo one of her Billy and Susie stories.

    My mother started this story-telling tradition back when I only had two children, and when Sweetsie came along she added Marie Ann to the make-believe family, and then after The Baby Nickel, she added Jakey. My children beg for her dramatic stories (sometimes they involve a little play-acting on my mother’s part, so enthusiastic and flair-ish is she), so when she comes to stay with us (or vice versa) Mom usually takes over the bedtime story responsibilities.

    She schemes these stories in the car as she drives over the mountains to our house, or as was the case this last time, after we had finished dinner, right before it was time to tell the tale: I looked over at the vacated table and there was Mom, absentmindedly gnawing on her fork prongs and staring fixedly at the pumpkin cake. I thought maybe she had overdosed on the Julia Child potatoes, or that she was having an intense internal debate as to whether or not she should have a third piece of the cake, but when I gently called her name, she just grinned and said, “I’m thinking about the Billy story I’m going to tell.” Oh.

    Once in a while I put in a request for the kind of story I want since the stories tend to be chock full of important moral lessons (my mother is a very moral woman): Can you do a story about lying, please? We’ve been having a little trouble in that area. Or, The name-calling has got to stop; do a story about that, okay?

    I didn’t hear the Billy story this last time, but apparently the mama in the story (that mama is generally much more attentive to her children than I am—Mom, are you trying to tell me something?) made a cinnamon flop for breakfast because Yo-Yo Boy asked me later what a cinnamon flop was. I told him it was like a coffee cake.

    “Have I ever had one?” He asked.

    “Yes, you probably have,” I said.

    “Can you make us a cinnamon flop?” he persisted.

    “Maybe…”

    He didn’t pester me about the cinnamon flop, but he didn’t let it go, either. I could tell he was curious, and slightly confused, wondering what this floppy food could possibly be like.

    So last night after the kids were in bed I googled “Cinnamon Flop”. By then those two words had bored a hole down under my skin and had me hungering for some of that floppy cake myself, so my intentions weren’t purely altruistic. But then, you probably already caught on to the fact that I don’t make a habit of committing purely altruistic deeds—it’s not my style. Anyway, I googled up a recipe that looked both simple and yummy.


    I’m pleased to report that it was both.


    This cinnamon flop is quite similar to the Rhubarb Cake recipe, though not as rich. I like this recipe because it is a blank slate, an easy recipe to play around with: cut back on the sugar, add a glaze topping, throw in some chopped nuts or berries, play around with the spices, add more whole grains, whatever. You can’t really mess this cake up.

    You are making a flop, after all.

    Cinnamon Flop
    Adapted from some recipe I found on Google (naughty me, not taking notes—again!)

    1 cup flour
    1 cup whole wheat flour
    1 1/4 cups sugar
    3 teaspoons baking powder (is it necessary to use this much?)
    Pinch of salt
    2 teaspoons vanilla
    1 egg, beaten
    1 1/4 cups milk
    ½ cup brown sugar
    2 teaspoons cinnamon
    1/4 cup butter, melted

    Mix together the first five ingredients (the dry ones). Add the vanilla, egg, and milk. Pour the batter into a greased 9 x 13 pan. In a small bowl mix together the brown sugar and cinnamon—sprinkle it over the batter. Drizzle the melted butter over it all. Bake the cake for 20-25 minutes at 350 degrees.

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  • Peanut Butter Cream Pie

    November 11, 2008

    This past weekend, as part of my malaise treatment plan, Mr. Handsome and I watched The Waitress. It was an okay movie, humorous and quirky with a small dash of reality, and it served it’s purpose well by helping me escape from my humdrum existence for an hour and a half.

     


    Mom had warned me about the pies in the movie: “They’re gross,” she said, and she was right. Lots of unnaturally-colored (lime green, brilliant purple) pudding pies with chunks of chocolate and smashed bananas. Not the kind of pie I’m fond of (though a smidge here and there can be mighty pleasing, I’ll admit). I normally prefer fruit pies, or old-fashioned molasses pies (better known as shoo-fly), or pecan pies, with a dollop of whipped cream or a couple scoops of ice cream served up alongside. But that movie did a number on my brain and got me to hankering after a custard pie. To be more exact, a peanut butter cream pie.

     


    I stalled, instead making that potato-sausage quiche (in a pie pan, yes), but the hankering did not go away, so yesterday I submitted to my carnal desires and made myself a pie, Waitress-style. And I’m calling it: Got Me A Hankering Peanut Butter Cream Pie. Or wait, how about Persistent Peanut Butter Pie? Or, No Humdrum Existence For Me Peanut Butter Pie? Or Quirky Malaise Treatment Plan Peanut Butter Cream Pie? Or Smithereen Smashing Peanut Butter Pie? 

    This is kind of fun. I might have to do like The Waitress and start naming all my pies. 
    Several years ago I went on a peanut butter pie rampage, trying to find myself The Best recipe. I obsessively experimented, trying out pies with chocolate cookie crusts, pies loaded with cream cheese and whipped cream, pies garnished with chocolate shavings and chopped peanuts. And then, from a compilation of several different recipes, I finally discovered/created what I was longing for. 
    It goes like this: In a pre-baked pie pastry you spread a layer of peanut butter crumbs, pour in the hot egg custard filling, seal the top with a meringue, and then sprinkle the rest of the peanut butter crumbs on top. Bake the pie for 15 minutes, chill it well, and there you have it, the classic peanut butter pie.
     



    Got-Me-A-Persistent-Hankering-For-A-Quirky-Malaise-Treatment-Plan-That-Will-Kick-My-Humdrum-Existence-To-Smithereens Peanut Butter Cream Pie 
    Adapted from my recipe card notes and the Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook 
    3/4 cup confectioner’s sugar 
    1/4 cup flour 
    ½ cup creamy peanut butter 
    3/4 cup sugar 
    1/4 cup cornstarch 
    1/4 teaspoon salt 
    3 cups milk 
    4 eggs, separated 
    2 tablespoons butter 
    1 ½ teaspoons vanilla 
    For the crumbs: 
    In a smallish bowl, mix together the confectioner’s sugar, flour, and peanut butter. Set aside. 
    For the custard: 
    In a small bowl, mix together the sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Pour the milk into a heavy-bottomed kettle and whisk in the sugar-cornstarch mixture. Heat the milk over medium-high heat, stirring frequently at first and then constantly as it starts to get hot, until thick and bubbly. Cook it for two minutes more, stirring constantly. 
    In another bowl, lightly beat the four egg yolks. Add one cup of the hot milk to the egg yolks, whisking constantly. Pour the tempered egg yolks into the milk mixture and heat, stirring steadily, till bubbling. Cook for another two minutes. 
    Remove the kettle from the heat, add the butter and vanilla, and set aside. 
    For the meringue: 
    Beat together the four egg whites, 1/4 teaspoon of cream of tartar, 2 tablespoons sugar, and ½ teaspoon vanilla until stiff peaks form. 
    To assemble: 
    In the baked pie shell, sprinkle two-thirds of the peanut butter crumbs. Pour the hot custard over the crumbs. (You may have some extra custard—I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do with it.) Spread the meringue over the custard, and sprinkle the remaining crumbs over the meringue. 
    Bake the pie at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes until the meringue is golden brown.

    Cool the pie at room temperature for a couple hours before cooling in the refrigerator for another four hours. The pie needs to be completely chilled before you cut it, or else the custard will be runny, which may or may not be a problem—that’s up for you to decide.

     

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  • Evolution

    November 9, 2008

    As this blog has evolved, different themes have emerged. There are the recipes, of course, and then the sourdough bread. There is the list of all the books that I’ve read to my children, put out there for you to use as a reference. And lately I’ve begun to notice yet another theme: the excerpts from the book that my mother and I had been working on.

    So now, in an effort to be as clear and precise and obsessive as possible, I have created yet another index for this blog that I have titled Book Bits. At this point it’s still a small list, but I suspect that over time it will evolve and expand. (This blog seems to have a habit of doing that.)

    Take a minute to go check it out (see the link on the side bar). Like I said, it’s not much, but I did post some (slightly embarrassing) pictures of my mother and I, for your entertainment edification.

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