T.S. Eliot

T.S. Eliot is quite the polarizing figure. He was kind of a jerk. He badly mistreated his (admittedly difficult) first wife before abandoning her to an insane asylum; worse, along with his friend Ezra Pound, he traded in the basest, most pernicious anti-Semitic stereotypes. One doesn’t have a sense of him as a warmhearted person.

He was also a bit of a priggish Anglophile. Born and raised in St. Louis, he moved to London, converted to Anglicanism, and took British citizenship at the first opportunity. I’m a bit of an Anglophile myself, but these things ought to have limits.

But was he any good as a poet? I don’t see how you can argue that he wasn’t. He’s certainly among the many literary idols with feet of clay, but the work itself is quite peerless for its milieu.

Because their work is so “difficult,” Eliot and other modernists are often accused of leaving behind middlebrow literary readers (who could warm to a Tennyson far more readily than an H.D., for example) and thereby circumscribing an already-small audience for “serious literature.” I find this a reasonably compelling argument, but I suspect I’ve got fairly middlebrow tastes myself. On the other hand, most contemporary readers don’t find “footnoted” Eliot all that much of a slog compared with Shakespeare or Chaucer; Eliot’s work is at least in a contemporary idiom.

The following poem should not present difficulties to anyone with a passing acquaintance with the Christmas story. I’m all about seasonal appropriateness.

Flourless Peanut Butter Cookies

I suppose we’ve just had a food-based holiday; another is rapidly approaching, but I’ve been determinedly absent. This post will not remedy the deficiency of holiday-appropriate recipes, though if you’re inclined to seasonal baking, I would direct you here, here, here, here, or here. Or here. What I’m saying is: we’ve been there, and I’ve been busy.

I did bake two pies for Thanksgiving, so it’s not as if I’ve been a total slacker. We were visiting my sister-in-law and her family, including an adorable new four-month-old nephew.  One of these pies was pumpkin. Pumpkin pie is not a variety of which I’m terribly fond, so I won’t be recreating it in my own kitchen any time soon (though everyone deemed it quite tasty, and I thought it decent … for pumpkin).

The other was an apple crumb pie, though I swapped out some of the granulated sugar for brown sugar because I was feeling daring. It was quite delicious. I think I’ve finally conquered apple pie. So long as you slice your apples thinly and don’t over-fill the pie, it turns out it’s a piece of cake.

In case you were wondering, I possess no fear of mixed food metaphors.

Boozy Banana Bread

This is something like the fourth banana bread recipe I’ve posted, which perhaps speaks to a dearth of culinary creativity – but I quite like banana bread. Besides, given how often I over-estimate my weekly consumption of said fruit and end up with brown, cloyingly sweet-smelling bananas rotting atop my countertop, I find it best to have options for how to dispose of them.

Apple Crisp

So, apples: this is their season, after all. Apples are on the EWG’s list of highly pesticide-soiled fruits, so I always try to buy them organic. I’m not persuaded that buying organic really make a difference – either to my health or the planet – but my tendency is to err on the side of caution, though there are times I suspect myself a bit of a Whole Foods stooge. At least the stores have a nice ambience.

The point of my preliminary ramblings is that organic honeycrisp apples were on special at Whole Foods last week for $1.49 a pound. This is, of course, insanely cheap. It’s like the price of regular apples! For honeycrisps, perched as they are atop the pinnacle of the apple world, they might as well be giving them away. I couldn’t turn my back on such a sale, but I also couldn’t summon the fortitude to tackle another apple pie.

Apple crisps make a lovely shortcut. They’re easy, delicious, and if you use all whole-grains, almost healthy. This recipe is based off of one in Seasons of Central Pennsylvania: A Cookbook and was apparently first devised in a Penn State agricultural lab. I usually prefer recipes with more homespun pedigrees, but I like that their concoction calls for all whole-grains for the topping. This is not to say that I baked as directed; I never do. I find the crisp improved with more sugar, a dab of cinnamon and nutmeg, and a hit of booze to sauce the apples – none of which are called for in the original. However, the whole grains are altogether appropriate and delicious. You won’t find yourself pining for a white flour crumbly top, or if you do – then you and whole grains simply don’t have much of a future, and you’ve probably never cared for apple crisps. How distressing!

Seamus Heaney and James Wright

I'm in the mood for a bit of juxtaposition.  Neither Seamus Heaney nor James Wright are among my great favorites, but each has his moments.  I do keep telling myself I ought to read Heaney's translation of Beowulf, but I fear my ambitions outpace my diligence.

Both of these poems are "epiphany" poems.  I go back and forth over whether I find such poems charming or tiresome.  The final revelations never seems sufficiently earned to me, which makes them feel ersatz and hokey.  And yet.

Postscript
Seamus Heaney
 
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightening of flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully-grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park or capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.


A Blessing
James Wright

Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

Malted Vanilla Tart

This is a bit of a lazy recipe. I bought some cream cheese a month or two ago with vague ambitions of making danishes, but danishes only stay fresh for a day or two, and I doubt the capacity of my two-person household to consume an entire batch of danishes. I suppose I could be munificent and send the extras into my husband’s lab (as I often do with cookies), but I’m not sure they’d travel. Also, danishes sound like kind of a pain, and lately, I’ve been eschewing complicated, difficult recipes in favor of less convoluted alternatives.

This recipe includes a pastry crust, so it might not fall within most people’s definitions of “easy,” but I cannot emphasize enough the extent to which the art of making a pastry crust can be easily mastered with practice. I don’t even bother using ice water to bind the dough most of the time – I just use cold tap and am careful to be gentle when stirring.

So this isn’t the sort of recipe over which one ought to lose any sleep. However, the truly crust-averse among y0u could consider crushing chocolate graham crackers, adding a bit of butter, and using that for the tart’s bottom layer. I might have done so myself if I ever had graham crackers laying about my pantry.

But ought I bother? you might be thinking to yourself. Is it flavorful, this uncomplicated tart? I think it’s quite lovely. Its texture is somewhere between that of custard and cheesecake, and the flavors are simple, agreeable, and complementary. It’s not the most exciting thing to ever emerge from my oven, but husband and I polished it off with no difficulty. One would be hard-pressed to truly spoil a dessert combining the flavors of vanilla, chocolate, and malt.

Simple Fudgy Brownies

I didn’t use to be a big brownie-eater, but lately, I’ve been more amenable to the charms of America’s favorite bar cookie. You can make them in one bowl (though you do obtain better texture if you use two); they need not be painstakingly scooped and molded into dollops of dough like regular cookies; they’re easy; and lately, I’ve come to recognize that they’re eminently satisfying.

I’ve avoided brownies for their simplicity. When I bake cookies, I want them to be overflowing with chocolate chips, raisins, coconut flakes, toasted nuts … whatever it is with which I’ve chosen to embellish them. Brownies aren’t so amenable to hodgepodge baking. You can throw in chocolate chips or nuts or spoon caramel atop them, but that seems like a denial of the essence of brownie, which is square, dark, plain, and stolid.

These are indeed square, dark and plain, but they’re also dense, fudgy, and decadent. I first made this recipe up a few weeks ago; I liked them so much that I made a fresh batch yesterday, but this time I tarted them up with cinnamon, cayenne pepper, and chipotle chili pepper on the theory that spices, being invisible, were not a denial of the brownie’s essential nature. Both versions are delicious.

Thomas Lynch

I've been feeling fairly chipper and busy, which can only mean that for you, dear readers, it's time for something dark and indolent.  One of the things I miss about living down south is the sense of atmosphere.  New England has an atmosphere, but it's a spare and etiolated thing, redolent of the pilgrims and puritans and characterized by restraint.  There's not much excess here -- perhaps because excess would have required the expenditure of more energy than one can spare in such an inhospitable clime. 

I lack the energy for a comparable disquisition on the atmospherics of the south.  Nor is this poem a product of the south.  In addition to his literary strivings, Thomas Lynch is a Michigan undertaker.  He is not coy about mingling his work and his art, and the result is poetry that's well-suited for the upcoming Halloween season.

Putting it that way sounds trite and dismissive, but that is not my intent.  I don't think literature suffers from a bit of acquaintance with excess -- or why would we still be so mad for the Romantics and Victorians?

These Things Happen in the Lives of Women

The first time he ever bought her lingerie
she was dead of gin and librium and years

of trying to regain her innocence.
"These things happen in the lives of women. . . ."
is what the priest told him. "They lose their way."
And lost is what she looked like lying there
awash in her own puke and the disarray
of old snapshots and pill bottles,
bedclothes and letters and mementos of
the ones with whom she had been intimate.
She was cold already. Her lips were blue.
So he bought her a casket and red roses
and bought silk panties and a camisole
and garters and nylons and a dressing gown
with appliques in the shape of flowers.
And after the burial he bought a stone
with her name and dates on it and wept aloud
and went home after that and kept weeping.

Thomas Lynch on Wikipedia

Wild Blueberry Pie

My mother-in-law likes to vacation in Maine every year, and where husband and I live is a convenient near-halfway stopping point between the pine state and her Pennsylvania home. For the return leg of the trip, she has adopted the excellent habit of toting back huge quantities of wild blueberries for us to enjoy.
I am not kidding about the large quantities part: this time, she brought us a five-pound flat of wild blueberries. Delightful! Delicious! A great many of these still remain in our freezer and are gradually being whittled down as I use them for cereal and yoghurt toppings. However, I thought it best to enjoy the bulk of these blueberries in the fresh, unfrozen state in which God intended them to be consumed. By fresh and unfrozen, I don’t mean to imply unmodified … clearly, blueberries exist chiefly to be baked into pies.

Apple Crumb Pie

Like many cooks, I find myself far less drawn to the kitchen during summer months. We don’t have central a/c, and our kitchen is ill-served by the lone wall unit that keeps the living room tolerable on the warmest days. This doesn’t usually bother me, but it does make one give pause before baking something like pie that requires an hour or so of oven time.

Husband’s favorite pie is apple pie. Despite the heat, and despite the fact that apples are just now coming into season (and I made this pie about a month ago), his craving would not be denied. I think I was promised a pony in return – husband, where is my pony?

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I'm feeling a touch maudlin and sentimental, and that can only mean one thing: it's time for Tennyson.  I have no defense of the following poem except to say that I like it.  It possesses the virtues of my current mood (which is to say maudlin, sentimental, excessive, inflated).  It practically bleeds pathos.  My love for it flies in the face my (admittedly mild) convictions about what constitutes good poetry.  These convictions have never inhibited my affection for Tennyson, for whom such  grandiose locution was more-or-less standard.

One can, of course, defend this diction.  It's been suggested -- I want to say by Aldous Huxley but can't confirm it on the internet -- that this poem would be vastly inferior and far less moving had its fourth line concluded, "and after many a summer dies the duck." 

In Greek mythology, Tithonus was the beloved of Eos, goddess of the dawn.  Because of her ardor, she requested that Zeus grant him immortality.  Unfortunately, she  forgot to insert the vital condition that this eternal life be accompanied by eternal youth. 

Peach Cobbler

You needn’t fear that I’d abandoned my hankering for peach cobbler. I’m firmly in the “biscuit crust” cobbler camp. Pate brisee is a fine thing for pie, but that’s my primary use for said pastry. Cobblers demand a hefty biscuit crust, all the better with which to sop up delicious peach (or other fruit) juices.

This recipe is very, very generously adapted from the The America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook. I have yet to see an America’s Test Kitchen baked good recipe that demands yoghurt instead of cream, sour cream, or milk, but I think they’re missing out. I used vanilla yoghurt as the biscuit’s moistener to add both sweetness and flavor and have no cause to regret it. The biscuit topping was light, tender, and moist – the perfect foil to the succulent fruit that lay beneath.

Lemon Ice Cream

As summer emits its last gasp, I’m trying to make the most of my beloved ice cream maker. New England seems to already have turned the corner from hazy summer to early fall. Those of you in more southerly climes probably can’t imagine how quickly and sharply the seasons turn the corner up here; one can literally go from all shorts and tee shirts to sweaters and fleece in the space of a fortnight.

I’d say I’m envious of those in warmer climes, but I’m actually looking forward to breaking out my cozy sweaters, plaid skirts, and tights. I always feel that way for about the first two weeks’ worth of chilly weather – and then I long for summer.

Since lemons are seasonal to winter, those of you in the very far south (hello, Florida!) could make this a year-round delight. It’s delicious – sweet-tart, lemony, and smooth as velvet on the palate. Usually, I prefer my ice cream with lots of add-ins, but this is simple perfection that requires no embellishment to delight.

Fresh Fig Tart with Citrus Custard

Since the beginning of the summer, I’ve been hoping to lay my hands on some fresh figs. I’m not so keen on them plain, but I love them in baked goods. I had some fig “pizza” – really, something very similar to what’s shown here – when I went to the local farmer’s market with some friends a few of weeks ago, and that only strengthened my resolve to locate these delectable, eminently perishable delights.

I finally stumbled across some figs while on a quest for peaches. Cobbler, I decided, would be just the thing for a late summer afternoon. I never even made it to the stone fruits; these figs were arrayed in luxuriant detail near the market door. I think it was fate.

Vanilla Malt Ice Cream with Almond Butter Swirl

Apparently, we just had the hottest month ever recorded here in Connecticut. Usually, I scoff and pish at those who whine about New England’s meager heat and humidity, but July was excessive even by my standards. I fear this means I’m getting soft. I’ve been up here for over six years now; perhaps it’s impacted my capacity to distinguish oppressive heat from the merely uncomfortable.

Ice cream is lovely on either type of summer day. This is a delicious, rich vanilla ice cream spiked with malted milk powder and a creamy almond butter swirl. I think it’s my favorite of the ice cream recipes I’ve made so far. Words are inadequate to the task of conveying how perfectly the flavors of vanilla, malt, and almond complement one another. It’s like ice cream: the religious experience.

I would therefore be remiss if I failed to share the recipe.

Richard Wilbur II

Clearly, I am not the only one borderline obsessed with True Blood. Its near-pornographic violence and sex make me feel like I need to wash my soul out with soap after each episode. And yet: I am transfixed. The show is an addiction I have no intention of forsaking.

Given that we are amid prime True Blood season, I thought I’d give you a poem about vampires. There really aren’t enough of them, I think. This one pulls of a neat trick – by focusing on the crux of longing for vampirism, it avoids excessive corniness and makes light of its gothic trappings. I think it’s a very fine poem.

Almond Joy Cookies

There’s a local ice cream parlor that serves the best Almond Joy ice cream I’ve ever had. Since my husband got me an ice-cream maker for my birthday, I’ve been promising myself I would replicate it at home.

And yet: it hasn’t happened. The stores at which I shop have been curiously lacking in sweetened flake coconut in recent weeks, and for ice cream, I just don’t think unsweetened coconut will cut it. I’ve been trying to find some of the sugar-doused stuff for ages, but the shelves are bereft. Increasingly, so am I. Sweetened flake coconut is among my favorite things.

Other kinds of coconut, however, I can find in abundance. Unsweetened coconut flakes and pieces – these healthier alternatives confront me wherever I go. Heck, I even picked up a fresh coconut the other week. I didn’t really care for it. It wasn’t sweet enough to suit my preferences. Does this mean that said preferences have been hopelessly warped by the food marketers and manufacturers of America? I fear it does, but in this instance, I have no desire to fight their nefarious influence.

Cheesecake-Filled Cupcakes

These were supposed to be Black Bottom Cupcakes, but something funny happened in the heat of my oven. Essentially all of the cream cheese filling I had carefully dolloped in the midst of my cupcakes was overpowered and encased by rising cupcake dough. The cupcakes depicted are actually a minority, the resolute few whose cheesecake filling refused to be wholly submerged in a tide of rising dough. I thought they’d photograph better than the others, which look exactly like regular chocolate cupcakes with sunken tops. This sunken-ness is typical of all black-bottom cupcakes and is a design feature rather than a flaw.

That these resulted in a cheesecake filling, rather than topping, was a bit of a pleasant surprise. These cupcakes, for example, lend themselves to frosting far more readily than do their traditional black-bottomed counterparts. The cheesecake in the middle is like the malt filling in the whopper, the caramel sandwiched between cookie and chocolate in the Twix. It’s the delightful hidden surprise. Really, I think them far nicer because one doesn’t realize (unless one happened to bake them) that a plain, slightly sunken chocolate shell conceals vast reservoirs of cheesecake. Or proto-cheesecake. Cheesecake-like substance.

Olive Oil Yoghurt Cake with Wild Blueberries and Lemon

Don’t be fooled by the lengthy title. This is a simple dessert that can be ready for the oven about 20 minutes flat. I’ve actually done it in ten, but I don’t want to inspire false confidence for those of you who don’t spend such a great portion of your waking hours in a kitchen.

This is a light, tender-crumbed cake that makes a perfect weeknight dessert. It’s so bright-tasting that I do think of it as quintessentially summery, but since I always use frozen blueberries (though fresh would be divine), there’s nothing to stop you from whipping this up in the dead of winter – which is when lemons are at their best, after all.

I love using olive oil because its fruity flavor makes such a nice contrast with the citrus and berries. However, canola or another neutral oil would certainly be fine. If you’re worried about too much tartness, you could swap orange zest and juice for the lemon. My mom always used to make blueberry muffins with orange juice, so that would make this like a blueberry muffin cake to me. And I can think of far worse things.

Pizza Crust

So I may not be from the northeast, but one thing that I think they get absolutely right up here is thin-crust pizza. I also love deep-dish Chicago-style pizza. It’s what I think of as Midwestern pizza that really gets to me (though it’s pretty common in Florida and is what you’ll find as the default from any of the national chains): medium-crust pizza. For me, a pizza is all about its toppings, and if most of what you can taste in any bite is a pillowy mound of crust, then I’m not feeling it.

Chicago-style pizza strikes me as more of a casserole than a pizza pie, and I think of it as its own food group altogether.

It’s possible to get excellent, superlative pizza where I live – it’s one of the things my city is noted for – but that kind of pizza is pretty unhealthy and not an item to indulge in on a day-to-day basis. Making pizza at home gives me more control over the ingredients and allows me to indulge my most fanciful topping whims.

This crust recipe is the product of trial and error. I used this Smitten Kitchen recipe as a starting point, but even this gave me a thicker crust than I wanted. Note that this is not inherent to the recipe itself – one can always roll crust out as thinly as one wants – but I’m using an inverted 12” cast-iron skillet as a pizza stone, so 12” is the diameter limit unless I want cheese and toppings dripping all over my oven floor. Which might have happened the first time I attempted homemade pizza. A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, etc. etc., right?

White Wheat Challah with Raisins

Well, this feels rather lazy. I’ve taken my own recipe, swapped out some of the flour for white wheat, and acted as if this is something new. But look: the pictures are different! I made one large loaf instead of two mini-loaves. You can’t pretend as if this doesn’t add visual interest.

What’s more, I added raisins. Raisins. Plump, juicy, organic raisins. Surely you cannot fail to be moved by the raisins. Have you a heart of stone?

Pumpernickel Rye Bread with Raisins

Did you know that pumpernickel bread gets its dark color from cocoa powder? I didn’t – I presumed it had to do with the flour or the caraway seeds. Since regular rye isn’t dark, it should hardly have shocked me that cocoa was behind the pumpernickel hue we know and cherish.

Since we’ve cleared up that mystery, let’s talk pumpernickel. Despite the inclusion of cocoa powder, it tastes nothing like chocolate. Maybe you love it; maybe you hate it. I love it, but I like my breads thick, grainy, and dense. If you like your breads soft, airy, and light, then this is probably not the loaf for you, and you’ve probably never cared for pumpernickel to begin with.

If you like pumpernickel, then you’ll be sure to like this homemade version even more. Unlike store-bought loaves, this one got even more flavorful the longer it sat on my counter and maintained a soft, moist crumb for longer than most bread. It could be the summer humidity, but I’m going to attribute it to inherent pumpernickel goodness.

Edward Lear

I’m in a bit of a nonsense mood and in the humor for nonsense poetry. “The Owl and the Pussycat” is among my favorite nonsense poems, though I feel the terminology does injustice to such a well-wrought little piece of verse. I used to read the lovely, Jan Brett-illustrated The Owl and the Pussycat to my little brother when he was a baby. It was my favorite of his picture books.

Edward Lear himself suffered from severe and debilitating episodes of epilepsy and was prone to lifelong periods of intense depression that he deemed “the morbids.” During his lifetime, he was primarily known as a travel artist (despite partial blindness) and all-around eccentric fellow. Despite this, he remains the only author I know who wrote a paean to inter-species love now considered appropriate literature for young children. But you’ll understand why if you know the poem, or if you read it following the cut.

Raspberry Dark Chocolate Ice Cream

Husband was kind enough to buy me an ice cream maker for my birthday. A more cynical person might wonder if this were an entirely disinterested purchase, but I had placed it on my amazon wishlist and lobbied hard for its purchase, so I’m willing to let him off the hook.

The nice thing about homemade ice cream is that it’s actually kind of hard to screw up. For example, I enjoy the richness that tempered egg yolks lend to ice cream. Unfortunately, for my first batch, I tried to use frozen egg yolks leftover from my recent angel food cake that were insufficiently thawed. Instead of incorporating neatly into my milk and cream mixture, yolk bits floated to the surface in ugly yellow clumps. I strained them out, and no one was the wiser – though I’m sure you’ll understand that I want to try again before sharing the first ice cream recipe (which was peanut butter chocolate swirl) with the world. The strained product was still ridiculously tasty.

This time, I used fresh eggs, and let me just say that it made a difference.

Chocolate Chip Banana Bread with Crystallized Ginger

As is usual this time of year, I keep finding myself besieged with over-ripe bananas. Each week, I tell myself that if I buy a blend of ripe and green bananas, I’ll be able to make them last without another trip to the store. It doesn’t work. During the latter half of each week, I inevitably wind up buying fresh bananas because I can’t abide the thought of squeezing banana mush, in lieu of the usual slices, onto my breakfast cereal. And no, I’m not about to give up my cereal with bananas, at least not for so long as bananas remain readily and cheaply available. This may not be much longer, according to Banana, as they are increasingly victim to some hideous blight, but I can’t think about that. I won’t think about it. It makes me sad.

Angel Food Cake

So I had a birthday last week, and while I’m sure I could wheedle the husband into baking or buying me a cake, such entreaties would deprive me of the opportunity to make my own. When given the chance, I always prefer to have the control over my cake that baking it myself provides.

I decided to bake myself an Angel Food Cake. This wasn’t prompted by health and/or caloric concerns – I genuinely adore angel food cake and prefer it to most frosted and layer cakes.

None of my cookbooks seemed to have a recipe for this fluffy concoction, so I used google to find a recipe. And frankly, there isn’t much variation. Angel Food Cake seems is the rare baked good about the preparation of which something like consensus has been achieved. Some recipes use slightly more or less sugar (I used less), and some use slightly more or less cake flour (again, I used less). The basic setup, however, does not vary from recipe to recipe.

I’d never tried to bake an Angel Food Cake before. Because I like the kind that you get at the store or can make from a box so much, I was hoping that a homemade version would be revolutionary – the ne plus ultra of Angel Food Cake. Doubleplusgood Angel Food Cake.