• Glake

    Ever since I made those coconut brownies I’ve had to endure the several cups of the leftover chocolate glaze staring me in the face every time I opened the refrigerator door. Finally, following in the footsteps of Cookie Baker Lynn, I created myself some glake (cake made from glaze equals glake), though it maybe was more brownie than cake, in which case they should be called glownies. Or, we could put the two words together and call it glownake. Whatever the wordage, the end result was a dry brownie, not very noteworthy at all. Except for the icing.


    I made a peanut butter frosting, courtesy of Deb, and it crowns the glake in such a way that you can forgive it (the glake, not the icing) for sucking all the moisture from your salivary glands.

    I will not be making these clowning glownies again, but the icing is a keeper.


    Ps. In keeping with this chocolate-peanut butter theme I have going, I’ll be making some chocolate-peanut butter eggs tonight, that is, as soon as Mr. Handsome gets home with the cream cheese (go ahead and forget the bacon, honey—just don’t you dare forget that creamy block of cheese) that I need for the filling (which is really quite similar to this frosting).

    Peanut Butter Frosting
    Adapted from The Smitten Kitchen

    I used natural peanut butter (with salt), and even though Deb says that it’s best to use commercial creamy peanut butter because the oil might separate out, I didn’t have any problems.

    10 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
    1 stick butter, at room temperature
    5 cups confectioner’s sugar, sifted
    2/3 cups peanut butter, creamy

    Cream together the cream cheese and butter. Add the sugar and mix well. Add the peanut butter and blend till smooth.

    Warning: Do not sample the icing at all because once you taste it you will plunge headlong down the slippery slope of gluttony and greed, and, as a result, you will not have any icing left with which to ice the cake. Which was the whole reason for making the frosting in the first place.

  • One of them

    I don’t really like food blogs. They are kind of one-dimensional, know what I mean? The writers seem to all be grasping for nirvana, via the tastebuds.

    Then again, those food writers might be the smarter members of the human race. We humans have gotta eat so we might as well pour our heart and soul into the never-ending task.

    What’s that you say? This is a food blog? Oh. Well, right.

    Right! Then that means I am one of the more intelligent people on our planet since I think it jolly good fun to whisk flour into melted butter, add tomato juice and milk, and then talk about it.


    (Question: Can you call cooking an “art” if it’s something that you have to do anyway?)

    Cream of Tomato Soup
    Adapted from More-With-Less Cookbook by Doris Janzen Longacre

    I didn’t can any tomato juice last year (and have regretted it many times over), so when I found a jar of juice hidden in the back corner of the hutch, I was delighted. I blanched at the date—‘04, so it was probably canned the summer after Sweetsie was born when the cousins from Oregon were visiting—but the seal was good, so I went ahead and made a pot of soup for dinner. There were no leftovers.


    This is one of the kids favorite soups. It is smoothly creamy, making it the ideal soup to drink with a straw (when I’m feeling benevolent).

    If you want to gussy it up a bit, you can saute some minced onion and garlic in the melted butter before adding the flour. And you can add other seasonings, too—basil, oregano, thyme, marjoram, etc.

    4 tablespoons butter
    5 tablespoons flour
    2 teaspoons sugar
    1-2 teaspoons salt
    4 cups tomato juice
    4 cups milk

    Melt the butter in a medium-sized saucepan. After the butter has melted, add the flour, sugar, and salt, and stir to combine. Pour in the tomato juice—add the first cup of juice slowly, stirring steadily to mix it well with the roux. Bring the tomato juice to a boil, stirring constantly. Let it boil briefly, and then whisk in the milk. Heat through, taste to check seasonings, and serve.

  • The kind of day

    This has been the kind of day where you wake up and then, suddenly, it’s 1:04 in the afternoon and you haven’t even washed your face yet.

    Maybe you don’t have days like that. Maybe you always rise promptly at six o’clock, shower and dress and do fifty stomach scrunches, eat a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with flax seeds while reading the Bible first, paper second, wash and dry your bowl and spoon, and then, because it’s seven o’clock, you wake the children and step into your day, smiling serenely, deodorant applied and bra fastened securely.

    I’m not quite that organized. I do a lurchy dance most mornings: I attempt to hit the ground running, but instead end up crashing into husband, kids, and furniture, at least until the coffee I’ve been greedily slurping enters my blood stream. Then I hit my stride, running a straight race, even though I never washed my face and I neglected to eat breakfast, remembering only when I started to get the shakes, and then I quickly, before getting distracted again, wolf down a bowl of French chocolate granola and keep right on running.

    Despite my unwashed face, I still managed to do a whole lot of other stuff this morning, such as straining and jar-ing the creme fraiche, mixing up and shaping a batch of bagels, boiling and baking the bagels I made yesterday, creating and baking sourdough hot cross buns, making a crockpot full of chili, helping Yo-Yo with his school work, baking a batch and a half of Dutch Puff for breakfast (Yo-Yo mixed it up the night before—a math lesson, though I didn’t call it that), and boiling eggs for Easter. I also yakked a mile a minute to some friends, one shoulder elevated awkwardly to keep the phone smashed against my ear, while shaping the buns and boiling the bagels and now I have a backache.

    And then it was time to get the kids settled for rest time, and there I was, still in my pjs with scuzzy face and hair…