Carrot Cake

I love how we kid ourselves.

My mother is very ill and, as a consequence of that illness, is averse to eating.  My grandmother, Goddess love her, put this recipe together for Mom thinking, no doubt, that it would be both pleasing and nutritionally dense.

She’s got it half right.

Truly, this is a glorious recipe.  The cake is heavy and satisfying and the frosting is sweet and light, but any hope one might have of gaining real nutritional benefit from the vegetables in the recipe is entirely negated by the fact that its base consists of two cups of sugar and a cup and a half of oil.

Seriously.

Start with the aforementioned two cups of sugar and a cup and a half of vegetable oil, add four eggs, and mix well.  Sift together 2 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon each of cinnamon and salt, and 2 teaspoons of baking soda, then incorporate that into the sugar mixture (you may want to employ a stout wooden spoon for this; it’s a hearty batter that’s going to get heartier in a second).  To this, add in 3 cups of shredded carrots, a cup of shredded coconut, and 1/2 cup walnuts (more or less, depending on your preference.  I pounded them into tiny pieces, but you decide how big you want your bits to be.  I was also thinking, as I wrote this, that pecan pieces might be a lovely alternative to the walnuts…).

My grandmother’s recipe calls for baking the mix in a 9×13 pans at 350° for 45 minutes, but I baked 24 muffins and still had enough batter left over for a small cake.  I really didn’t pay much attention to the baking time (sorry about that!) but the toothpick test is reliable for this application.

The cream cheese frosting is the real reason that most of us eat carrot cake (it’s okay; you can admit it).  I monkeyed quite a bit with that part of the recipe, though I’m not sure I did it any real improvement.  My grandmother says to mix 1 3-ounce package of cream cheese with half a stick of butter and a teaspoon of vanilla, and add powdered sugar until it’s of spreading consistency.  I had an 8-ounce package of low-fat cream cheese and, since my math skills are abysmal on a good day, I winged it.  I put in a whole stick of butter (because 8 is more than 2×3, right?), a big blop of vanilla, a slightly bigger blop of whipping cream, and Goddess only knows how much powdered sugar.  My version came out more like icing than frosting, but it’s still exceedingly yummy.

I kid myself that it’s perfectly acceptable to eat this for breakfast, and the girls consider it a “healthy” after school snack.  Regardless of how healthy it may or may not be, it sure is tasty!

Enjoy!

Banana Cranberry Bread

I have a thing about bananas.

You see, I don’t really like them by themselves, and I think that their flavor permeates everything with which they’re incorporated.  I find that characteristic distracting.  As a result, I tend to shy away from pina coladas, smoothies with bananas as their bases, and fruit salads with bananas.

Strangely, though, I LOVE banana bread.

A long time ago, my paternal grandmother gave me a recipe for banana bread, and that’s the one I’ve been using for decades.  The thing is, though, that my grandmother – like my beloved adopted She of the Blueberry Bread grandmother – grew up as a child of the depression.  I’ve come to see a trend in ladies of a certain age; they use Crisco as a major component in a lot of their baking and, really, I just can’t roll like that.  It doesn’t diminish my love for these women in any way, but it does make me a little hesitant to partake of their cookies and quick breads.

A month or so ago, a Capital-G-Girlfriend came to visit me for the weekend, and she brought with her a loaf of dark, moist, sweet, dense yumminess that came with a delightfully tangy zing.  I adored it, and almost single-handedly knocked off the entire loaf (it’s fantastic toasted with a little bit of butter).

Mom, who’s still trying to navigate her way around her current health situation, called me the other day with a request for banana bread.  I suspect that she’s trying to find sweeties that she can eat that will offer up at least a little bit of nutrition, too, and she lighted on banana bread as an option.

I immediately emailed my Girlfriend and she zipped the recipe to me.  I was astounded by how stupid-easy it is.  Really?  The hardest part was getting my hands on some cranberries so far off-season.

Start with 1/2 cup each of softened butter, packed brown sugar, and white table sugar.  Mix these together well (I used a hand mixer, but you can make this in the KitchenAid or use the old fashioned wooden spoon method to, I think, equal effect).  Drop in a good blop of vanilla (the recipe asks for 1 teaspoon, but I found that wholly insufficient) and a teaspoon of baking soda dissolved in 2 tablespoons of hot water.  Finally, incorporate 3 ripe bananas (this is where, depending on whether or not you want chunks of bananas,  the power tools might come in handy).

Once you’ve got all the wet ingredients nicely blended and as smooth as you like, stir in 1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour by hand until it’s just incorporated, then drop in 1 cup of  fresh cranberries (since I couldn’t find fresh ones in March, and since I wanted this to be easily tolerated by my mother, I used frozen berries.  Freezing causes ice crystals to break the cell walls in the berries, leaving them “squishy” when baked, which is the effect I was after).  The original recipe doesn’t call for them, but I can’t see that adding a handful or so of your favorite nuts here would do anything terrible to your finished product.

Bake your batter in a 350° oven in a greased loaf pan for about an hour (or until it passes the toothpick test).  I chose to bake these as muffins; I wanted them in smaller quantites and portable.  My cooking time was about 15 minutes or so, and I came away with 2 dozen mufffins that are just perfect for breakfast, lunchboxes, and after-school snacks.

YUM!

Baked Mushroom Linguine

Here’s the thing; I don’t like Martha Stewart.  I’ve said it before; I think she’s an insufferable snot and a convicted liar to boot, but the woman knows how to put pretty things together.  More to the point, I think she knows how to hire some incredibly talented people and, until I stopped subscribing to her magazine and watching her show after her conviction for conspiracy, making false statements and obstruction of justice, I very much enjoyed drooling over the slick and competent domesticity I found in the pages of the Living magazine.

One of the (many) wonderful things that I took away from my time with Martha is this recipe for baked mushroom linguine.  It is a fantasy of contradictions; smooth and creamy while simultaneously being chewy and toothsome (and, if you add a topping while the thing is baking, crunchy, too); it is both homey and comforting while being strangely exotic at the same time; and it comes off as classy and elegant on the table while being truly stupid-easy in the kitchen.

Martha’s original recipe can be found here.  Here, though, is how *I* do it.

Start with a package or two of dried mushrooms (and, depending on your budget and your tastes, I say the more exotic the better).  Cover these in four cups of water from a freshly boiled kettle and set them aside to steep and soften.   Coarsely chop a good sized package of both portobello and plain old white button mushrooms, plus whatever other fresh mushrooms tickled your fancy at the grocery store (I usually come back with a handful of shitake, but only because they seem to be readily available in my neighborhood store).  In a large pan, cook these down in about half a stick of butter until they’re soft and fragrant.

Set the cooked mushrooms aside and, in the same pan, melt another stick of butter (are you starting to see now why this recipe is so good?).  Stir in about six tablespoons of flour and stir this around over medium heat until it just starts to brown.  Strain the liquid in which your dried mushrooms have been steeping into the pan (here’s where being fussy might be worth your while – line the strainer with a paper towel or a bit of cheesecloth to catch any grit that might have soaked off the mushrooms) and stir it around until it starts to bubble and thicken.

Once you’ve got the sauce all bubbly, stir in a cup and a half of cream (the recipe calls for “heavy,” but I use “light”) and incorporate that well. Martha says you should have tied a little boquet garni and dropped it in at this simmering stage; I say sprinkle in a little bit of thyme and crumble in a little rosemary and you’ll have the same effect without having to be fussy (though, if you happen to have fresh herbs handy, by all means, use them!).  Dump your cooked mushrooms back in and you’re pretty much done.

Let the whole thing simmer while you get to boiling a box of linguine until it’s just starting to soften; you’ll want this wicked al dente because it’s going to cook for a half hour in the oven and will absorb a lot of the sauce you just made.

Drain the pasta and stir it into the sauce (I check the sauce for salt before I put the pasta in; it’s easier to salt without having to stir around the noodles), then transfer the whole party to a large baking pan and park it in the middle of a 375° oven for the aforementioned half hour.  Though the recipe doesn’t call for it (and I don’t do it, myself), I can’t see how a grating of some fancy hard cheese over the top or a crowning of buttered bread crumbs could do the thing any harm.  I serve this with a green salad when I serve it, which isn’t often, sadly; my family isn’t all that keen on mushrooms, so I only trot this recipe out when friends who are come to visit.  That’s tonight’s occasion; Sooza likes mushrooms, but no one else really does, so all the rest of them are getting macaroni and cheese.  So much the better – that’s more of this heavenly yumminess for US!

YUM!

Chewy Chocolate-Chip Cherry Oatmeal Cookies

I’m not really one for cookie-baking.  I CAN, certainly – and I have some kick-ass amazing cookie recipes – but for as often as I’m creating in the kitchen, I don’t make cookies very much.

The other day, though, my mom called.  She’s in the midst of some pretty scary health-related nightmares right now, and I’ve been trying to figure out something – anything! – I can do to help her.  It turns out, she thought of me alongside a craving she was having for oatmeal cookies.  Go figure.

Since Mom was treated for throat cancer last year, she has a hard time eating at all.  When she told me that she was actually craving something, I jumped on it.

Because of her difficulty eating – she has a hard time chewing, her salivary glands were damaged by the chemo, and she often chokes when trying to swallow – I rooted around and found the most gentle oatmeal cookie recipe I could find.  To make a traditionally hearty cookie a little more friendly, I used quick-cooking oats (which are really just regular oats sent through a chopping process to make the grains finer; if you go that route, use about a quarter cup fewer oats than if you were using regular rolled oats), and I eliminated the raisins and nuts.  You should feel free to play with this recipe, though; it’s a good, basic foundation that will take a lot of liberal fiddling.

Start out with a stick and a half of butter at room temperature, one egg, a healthy blop of vanilla extract (I use about a tablespoon) a cup and a quarter of packed light brown sugar, and one third of a cup of milk.  Using a hand mixer (or in the bowl of your KitchenAid), whir this around until it resembles (I can’t believe I’m saying this) vomit.  I know – nasty! – but that’s really what it looks like.  Of course, it’s sweet and smells cloyingly of vanilla, but if I didn’t know what it was, I’d be entirely put off by how it looks (and what is it about some of my favorite recipes resembling, at a particular stage in their assembly, the one thing I can’t stand?  Remember the barbecue sauce recipe?  Sheesh!).

ANYWAY… once you’ve got the butter-sugar-egg all mixed up, get out a new bowl and put in a cup of all purpose flour, three cups of rolled oats (or two and a half or so, if you’re using the quick-cooking type), a half teaspoon each of baking soda and salt (though I consider the salt to be entirely optional in this recipe), and a quarter teaspoon or so of cinnamon (more or less, depending on your preferences).  Toss those together and, with a stout wooden spoon, stir them into your butter-sugar-egg mess.

At this point, add whatever makes you happy.  I left a quarter of the batch plain for mom, then finely chopped up a handful of dried cherries for her other quarter.  For our half, I added quite a few more dried cherries and just a few too many chocolate chips. I could also imagine adding pecans, flaked coconut (you could substitute a little of the vanilla for coconut extract if you like), traditional raisins (if that’s your thing), M&Ms – really, go wild here.

Drop the batter in generous little heaps on parchment or a lightly greased cookie sheet (or, if you have one, one of those neat-o, cool Silpat mats.  GODDESS, but I love those things!) about two inches apart and pop them into a preheated 375° oven for about ten minutes.  You want them to be lightly browned, but still a little soft in the middle.  Cool them off the sheets (that’s where Silpat or parchment comes in handy; you can just slide the whole batch right on to the cooling rack so the heat of the sheets won’t keep them cooking).  Though I don’t think they’ll last long enough for any long-term storage (they’re some kind of yummy!), they’ll keep in airtight containers at room temperature for about a week; in the fridge for slightly longer, and in the freezer for quite a bit longer (though, of course, you’ll want to bring them to at least room temperature before consuming).  I have to say here, too, that popping them in the toaster oven to give them a little bit of warm is absolutely delightful, especially if there’s chocolate in them.

Happy Cookies!

Liquid Heaven

Several years ago, Starbucks was putting out a concoction they were calling Chantico.

Dark and rich and hot and smooth (and nearly four bucks for a Dixie Cup sized portion), this stuff was a chocolate addict’s dream fix.  Seriously.

Then, for reasons I’ve still yet to comprehend, Starbucks decided to discontinue the drink.  I was so disappointed that I actually wrote a blog post asking my readers to petition the coffee giant to put the stuff back on the menu but, alas, it was not to be.

Last month, though, Mr. Chili heard a rumor that Chantico was being made available for the holidays.  I couldn’t get to a Starbucks fast enough but, to my profound disappointment, I found the rumor to be false.

Desperate, now that the seed for it had been planted in my mind, I scoured the internet for a recipe to try that would approximate the gorgeous, orgasmic chocolate drink.  Since I’m writing this, you can guess that I found one.  I made it the other day for O’Mama and me and, well, there just aren’t words.

Start by pouring one can of evaporated milk in a heavy saucepan over medium heat.  To that, drop in three heaping tablespoons of cocoa and 1/4 cup of light corn syrup (I know a lot of people are opposed to corn syrup, but I really do think that this is vital to the texture).  As the mix gets warmer, add 3 ounces of chopped, semisweet chocolate – chocolate chips – are fine (and I did an experiment for you today and discovered that 3 ounces is about three handfuls.  The sacrifices I make in the name of accuracy!) and stir, mostly continuously, until the mixture is hot and smooth.  Off the heat, add 1/4 cup of heavy cream and 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract (I, of course, used far more).  Ladle into a mug and prepare to roll your eyes into your brain and make embarrassing noises of ecstasy.

Seriously.

Chicken Piccata

This, truly, is one of my most favorite recipes.  There is a little bit of fuss to it, but it is oh-so worth it.  It’s easy enough to make for dinner on a random Wednesday, but classy enough to serve to company you’re trying to impress; trust me on this one.

Start by setting out two pie pans (or shallow dishes of your choice, but I find the pie pans work just right).  Into one, beat two eggs with a little water.  Into the other, dump in a mound of flour, some dried lemon or orange peel (if you have any) and a little salt and mix them well.  At about this point, you’re going to want to set out a pot of water for your linguine and get staged whatever veggie you plan on serving with this (my family has started a tradition of asparagus spears, but you’re certainly not bound to that).

Grate the zest off of two or three lemons, then juice them and set all of that aside.

Uncork a good bottle of white wine (yes, open a whole bottle – you’ll cook with some of it and drink the rest with dinner).  I am particularly fond of a blend of pinot grigio and chardonnay put out by the Luna di Luna people, but any white you find good enough to drink on its own is perfect.

Allow half of a half chicken breast per person.  Now, a lot of recipes will tell you to pound the breast between layers of wax paper until it’s about a quarter inch thick, but I can’t be bothered to do that, so I take a boneless, skinless breast half and slice it in half horizontally through the thickest part.  Do be careful if you choose to run this way, though – chicken breasts are slippery little bastards.

Preheat your oven to 300°.  Dip each breast piece in the egg, then dredge it in the flour mixture, then drop it into a skillet in which you’ve been heating a couple of tablespoons of olive oil or butter (if you use butter, though, drop in about a teaspoon of oil, too; it will help raise the burn point of the butter).  Cook the breast pieces until they’re JUST brown; they’ll finish cooking in the oven while you cook the pasta and veggies and put the sauce together.

Once you’ve browned all the chicken and stashed it in the warmed oven, turn the water on under your pasta pot and get your veggies cooking.  With a paper towel, wipe out whatever burned flour is left on the bottom of your skillet, then return it to medium heat and melt a stick of butter.  Into that, pour a good cup, cup and a half of the wine and let the sauce simmer and bubble for as long as it takes the pasta to cook.  JUST after you drain your linguine, dump in all of the lemon juice and about half the zest into the wine and butter and remove it from the heat.  If you’re so inclined, here’s where you’ll drop in a couple dozen capers that you’ve drained out of their brine (you can go more if you like them, or you can skip them altogether).

Every plate gets a mound of linguine, a chicken piece, a good drenching of the sauce, and a little sprinkle of lemon zest.  Don’t expect a lot of conversation beyond the initial praise for how pretty the dishes look; everyone will be too busy eating to do much talking.

You’re welcome.

(I didn’t get a picture of the finished plates – we were drooling too hard…. sorry)

Cheese Soup

A couple of years ago, I was attending a seminar at Not-So-Local College and had the pleasure – and I’m not being sarcastic – of eating in the dining hall.  At the time, I was more than a little incredulous -I mean, really, the dining hall?!? – but I soldiered on and grabbed a tray.

I ended up at the soup-and-salad bar and poured myself a bowl of Canadian cheese soup*.  It was gorgeous, and in my ecstasy, I hunted down a man with a little chef’s hat and begged him for the recipe.  He came back with instructions for making gallons of the stuff, but this is no problem; I married an engineer – I made him do the math.

Start by dicing (or grating to near-invisibility, if that’s what your family requires) a medium-sized onion, and chopping up some carrots and celery.  I’m not particular about the measurements (and, to tell the truth, I almost never even have celery in the house, so that usually gets skipped altogether), but it usually works out to about a pound or so of vegetables.  Dump these in the bottom of a large stock pot and drop in a stick of butter.

Let the veggies cook in the butter over medium heat until they’re just starting to soften, then sprinkle over about 2/3 of a cup of all-purpose flour.  Stir that around until all the butter is absorbed and you’ve made a lumpy paste.  Let it cook for about five minutes or so – you want to cook out the raw taste in the flour – then pour over about three cups of chicken stock (you can use veggie stock if you prefer, but not beef, I think).  Using a whisk, stir the stuff until you can’t discern any more lumps of flour paste, then reduce the heat to low and let it simmer until the carrots are tender.  At this point, you can keep the soup simmering all day if you want.

Just before you’re ready to serve, stir in way more cheese than you think you need.  No, seriously; the recipe converted to two pounds of cheese.  My family is all about the extra sharp cheddar, but I bet you can use whatever cheese you want as long as it’ll melt well (I’d avoid the mozzarella, but if you like stringy, go for it).  Once the cheese is melted in, stir in 2-3 cups of half-and-half (I cut the half-and-half 50/50 with milk, but if you want to go full-boat, go for it!).   You can augment or garnish to your heart’s desire; the original recipe called for a green scallion garnish, but I’m the only one who likes scallions, so I just grind just a little black pepper over each bowl before I serve it and everyone’s happy.  I’m betting that you can sprinkle over a dash of cayenne pepper or drip in some Tabasco, you could add some diced potatoes to the simmering stage, you could sprinkle over some crispy bacon bits just before serving or drop some diced ham in the bottom of the bowl  – be creative!

This soup is fantastic all on its own.  I serve it in bowls with a side of buttered bread, and my family practically inhales it.  I do have to warn you that it doesn’t freeze well and is only marginally fridge-friendly, though; if you do reheat it (and we have; it’s not a total lost cause) make sure you give it a wicked stirring as it heats up because it tends to split when it cools (all that cheese reconstitutes).  If you’ve got leftovers, try to eat them the next day; this is one of the few recipes I love that doesn’t carry over very well.

YUM!

*I have no idea what’s so “Canadian” about this soup, but that’s what the recipe says, so that’s what I’m giving you.  Regardless of its nationality, it is just the thing for cold, snowy evenings…

A Birthday Cake for a Heathen

My longtime and dear friend, Meadmaker, has his birthday on New Year’s Day.  Because we had to postpone our New Year’s celebrations due to snow, Meadmaker and his wife (and Tonks and Bowyer and Falcon) are all descending on Chez Chili on Sunday for munchies, Chinese food, football, and birthday cake.

Meadmaker is the heathen referenced in the title only becuase of his disdain for chocolate.  He’s never really liked the stuff and, even though that makes me view him with a wary eye, I still love him.  I decided, then, to put together a tres leches cake in honor of the anniversary of his birth.  Several years ago, Punkin’ Pie decided she wanted a Mexican-themed birthday party (We had a pinata, we ate tacos, we listened to the Gypsy Kings, and we made tissue-paper flowers.  I have no idea where her desire for a Mexican-themed party came from, so don’t ask), and I made this cake for her and loved it.  The recipe is pretty straightforward and easy, and the cake was a HUGE hit at Punkin’s party.  I’m eager to have it again.

Start with a 13×9 glass baking dish that’s been lightly greased and floured (you can line the thing with parchment if you plan on decanting the cake from the pan and putting it on a serving plate, but since I serve it right from the pan, I don’t bother).  In the bowl of your KitchenAid (or a large, clean, glass or metal bowl), whir 8 egg whites until they start to form soft peaks.  Sprinkle in 2 cups of sugar a little at a time (use superfine sugar if you have it – I blitz my sugar in the food processor just to make it a little more willing to mix with the whites – but slowly adding regular sugar will work, too) and continue beating until stiff peaks form.  Reduce the speed to low, then beat in 8 egg yolks, one at a time, then drop in 2 teaspoons of vanilla and, if you want, a tablespoon of lime juice (the recipe calls for it, but I never add it.  Instead, I up the vanilla to a couple of tablespoons).

While the eggs are beating, sift together 2 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour, 2 teaspoons of baking powder, and 3/4 of a teaspoon of salt.  Pour out 2/3 of a cup of milk (whole milk if you have it) and warm it in the microwave until it’s room temperature.  Add the flour mix to the eggs alternately with the milk, then scrape the batter into the prepared pan.  Don’t be alarmed if the batter is a little lumpy; as long as you’ve got no dry spots of flour, you’re fine (I usually give the batter a mix or two with a spatula, but you want to keep this light and spongy and over-mixing will produce gluten in the flour; you don’t want that, so under-mixed is better than over).

Bake the cake at 350° for about half an hour or so, or until the cake feels springy in the center and passes the toothpick test.

While the cake is baking, mix together one 12 ounce can of evaporated milk, one 14 ounce can of sweetened condensed milk and a cup and a half of heavy cream.  The recipe doesn’t call for it, but I usually drop in a shot of vanilla, too.  Set this aside – I leave it at room temperature; it’ll be fine.

Cool the cake completely, either in or out of the pan, depending on your preference (I keep the thing in the pan only because I don’t have a platter that will fit and I like it to sit in its little milk bath; milk leaks out if the cake is on a platter).  Once the cake is COMPLETELY cool (this part is important – patience, Grasshopper), poke it all over with a skewer, then pour about half the milk mixture over.  Wait about ten minutes, then pour the rest of the milk over the cake, cover it tightly with plastic wrap, and stash it in the fridge for at least three hours, though overnight is better.

I don’t ice this cake, but the top is kind of ugly, so I spread whipped cream over the top and that doesn’t do it any damage.  I imagine that a sprinkling of shredded coconut wouldn’t go amiss, either.

Standing Rib Roast *Edited*

I decided that this year’s holiday dinner would deviate a bit from the typical turkey.  Because Bowyer and Tonks are taking the boys to Disney for the week and my mother is essentially housebound, I have a relatively small group to feed in 2008 – there’ll be the four of us, my sister and twin brother-in-law, my in-laws, and Meadmaker and his wife.  I figured that I could afford to feed ten people prime rib.

For having such a fancy and decadent reputation, prime or standing rib roasts are pathetically easy to prepare; all you need is an oven, a pan with a roasting rack, a little oil, salt and pepper (or garlic, if that’s how you roll), and time.

Have the nice man behind the meat counter at your local supermarket remove the bones, trim your roast, and tie the bones back on (it’s worth it to pay the extra money to keep the bones; they really do make a difference not only in how the meat cooks, but in the finished product, as well).  Leave the roast to stand on the counter for a few hours to get the refrigerator chill off of it, and preheat your oven to 200° (yes, you read that right – only 200° – remember I said you needed time).

Now, I do the searing right in the roasting pan, but you can use a separate pan if you like.  Put the pan on the stove and drizzle a few tablespoons of roasted garlic olive oil in to heat, then sear the meat on all the sides you can reach (don’t bother trying to sear the bone side).   Pop the rack back in the pan, heavily season the roast with coarse salt and pepper (or, if you’re like me, smear the stop with roasted garlic paste and coarse salt and skip the pepper altogether).  Insert a probe thermometer straight down into the roast, being careful not to touch bone (going vertical means that only one slice will have a probe hole in it – I don’t go horizontally through the fancy cuts of meat) and set it in the oven.  Program the alarm to go off at 125° for rare, 130° for medium rare, or 145° for medium.  Don’t let the roast go any higher, though; after 145°, it’s overdone and you miss the whole point of prime rib.  Expect about 45 minutes to an hour per pound, a little more if you’re aiming at medium.

Once the thermometer goes off, remove the roast from the oven, put it on a board, and tent it with foil to rest for about a half hour.  While that’s happening, put the roasting pan back on the stovetop and spoon off any excess grease you can get to (you’ll want to save this if you’re making Yorkshire puddings), then pour in about a half cup of beef stock and deglaze the pan.  The resulting jewel-toned yumminess will be the au jus for the roast – pour it into a gravy boat and keep it hot.

After the half hour, untie the ribs and slice the roast.  I like to go with about half-inch slices, but there’s no rule about that; do what makes you happy.

Yorkshire pudding is the tradtional accompaniment to prime rib, and it, too, is stupid-easy.  At least a couple of hours before the roast is scheduled to be done, mix together 3/4 cup of flour, 1/2 teaspoon of salt, 2 eggs and a cup of milk.  Cover the bowl and put it in the fridge.  When the roast is finished, pour a spoonful of the skimmed-off grease from the roasting pan into the cups of a muffin tin and preheat the oven to 450° with the tin in the oven.  When the oven is hot, quickly pull the tin out and spoon a dollop of batter into the hot fat in the muffin cups.  Pop the tin back in the oven and bake for about 10 minutes, or until the puddings are puffy and browned.

Happy holidays, Everyone!

*Edited* I didn’t take any decent photos of the roast but Holy Mother of the Sacred Cow, was that dinner amazing!  Orgasmic, even.  I put the roast in at about 7, and by 1:30 we were feasting.  I didn’t bother with the Yorkshire pudding, but I don’t think anyone noticed.  Truly; if you eat meat, make this roast – you so won’t be sorry.

Eggnog Poppy Seed Bread

Since I love more people than I can afford to buy gifts for during the holidays, I bake for a significant number of folks.  The edible gifts range from peanut brittle to cookies to this recipe, which is wonderfully stupid-easy, but strangely sophisticated and terribly festive.

I made a double batch.  Beanie helped.

I’m pretty sure I got this recipe years ago from a Betty Crocker cookbook, but I’ve long since lost the original citation.  A quick check of the internet shows me, though, that all the recipes are pretty much the same, so there you have it.

Start with 2 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour in a large mixing bowl (or, my prefered method, in the bowl of a KitchenAid).  To that, spoon in a cup of sugar and a quarter cup of poppy seeds (I NEVER measure the poppy seeds.  Those bad boys are EXPENSIVE, so I just dump in enough to ensure an even and obvious distribution.  Besides, I don’t want my friends getting busted in random drug tests).  Add 3 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder and a teaspoon each of salt and nutmeg.  Whisk these things together so that it’s all nicely mingled, and set it aside while you get on with the gooey ingredients.

In a large-ish bowl (I use my biggest Pyrex measuring cup), combine 1 1/4 cup of eggnog, 3 tablespoons of vegetable oil, one egg, and the grated zest of one orange (I used to think I could skip this step, but the brightness that the zest adds really is important).  Pour the wet ingredients onto the dry all at once and mix until it’s completely incorporated.

My usual method of baking these is in prepared individual loaf pans, but you can pour all your batter into a greased and floured standard loaf pan as well or, alternately, you can line a muffin tin with cupcake papers and cook them that way.  Regardless of your vehicle, the pans will go into a 350° oven until they’re toothpick-test done (cooking time will vary widely depending on the size of your pans; the mini loaves take about 18-20 minutes; I start testing at 15).  Since I never make these as standard loaves, I had to look up the cooking time.  The recipes I found said to start testing at about 55 minutes.

Though I dont’t think this will hang around long enough for storage to be an issue, if you’re going to keep it for a bit – or give it as a gift in the next few days – wrap it in plastic and keep it in the fridge.

Happy, merry!