Wordplay

How to make filled coconut marshmallow cuppies for your roommate’s birthday:

First, find an extra deep cupcake tin and fill it with their favorite flavor cake. This mega tin happened to be a block away from my house in a friend’s well-equipped kitchen.

Next, mix together a secret delicious WOW factor filling. In this case, coconut Cool Whip (half a can of Coco Lopez pina colada mixture and a whole tub of whipped cream). Yes, the Coco Lopez doesn’t look like something you should be putting in a cupcake, but I promise it’s just sugar and coconut. Actually, I have no idea what it is. Let’s not worry about that.

CAREFULLY drill holes in the top of your massive cupcakes (drill=cut), empty the contents (good for impatient nibblers), and fill with your mixed cocolopezwhip (should be pretty melted by now, so you can just spoon that stuff right in).

Deposit your frosting into a zip-top bag, cut off the corner with some scissors and start piping a hat on your open-wound cuppies. You’ll need quite a bit of frosting to cover the holes, but no worries if you mess up, you can cover all your errors with decorative elements. I stuck with the colorless theme and covered the sides with shredded coconut and the top with a mound of mini marshmallows.

Just don’t press too hard on your embellishments…remember, there’s a secret inside that would love to get out via an any inconvenient cracks or punctures you decide to create. Quickly refrigerate to keep the insides…inside. Then gift, sing, consume and tell the birthday boy how messy these were to make.

FYI: You don’t need more than 5 of these. Please do not make more.

Matter of fact, you don’t need more than one. One is enough.

Also: Coco Lopez Whip is GREAT on strawberries.

**Title of this post inspired by “Aunt Jemima!! (the pancake song),” one of the greatest cooking videos of all time (yes, these cupcakes instructions should have been sung and presented in poor stop motion, but I just can’t compete):

Why,  oh why, couldn’t I have found one of these REAL GOOD chairs on the streets of  New York? Orange, please. Thank you.

Blu Dot Real Good Experiment from Real Good Chair on Vimeo.

Since we’re about to get silly gluttonous in a few days, I figured I’d post some mouth-watering items before we all get stupid with tryptophan. Yes, simply put, these are things I want to eat this week. I won’t be making turkey or pie this year, so I figure I’d dream big. Big like Real Simple big. Big like Thanksgiving done right big. Who needs pecan pie when you could have a banana creme pavlova tower?

I will eat this.

I can almost even taste these.

Are these baking? I smell them.

Is this food or fantasy?

It’s my favorite drink. In my favorite food.

from Real Simple: raspberry rhubarb tart, pumpkin cream sandwiches, From Design Sponge: gruyere and herb scones, From Better Homes and Gardens: banana cream pavlova tower, From Food Blogga: lemonade cookies

Let me be the first to blog about pumpkin this year. Ah…Ok, the 2nd.

October’s only good for two things: Costumes and tooth decay. Both of which rank pretty close to the top of my “things you must indulge in frequently” list. Ok, so the tooth decay is a minor setback of the candy and pumpkin-flavored-things consumption, but you get the idea.

To start: A recipe for mini pumpkin pie bites I found on Bakerella today. She uses her own pumpkin pie filling, and I most definitely would not. I would use store bought pie dough, store bought pumpkin filling, and just eat them right out of the muffin tray.

Images from Bakerella. See her recipe.

Want more pumpkin? Smitten Kitchen has a whole gaggle of really ridiculous pumpkiny treats equipt with those super mouth-watering “what, are you a professional?” photos of the eats.

I.E. pumpking cupcakes, silkly smooth pumpkin pie, pumpkin swirl brownies, pumpkin waffles, and black bean pumpkin soup. They were posted last year, but still good, right?

**And if you love the food bloggies, add newbie POUR LA BOUCHE to your list.

These little sliders are atypical.

They are not beef.

They are not turkey.

They are not tofu.

They are cupcake.

Yes, cupcake.

Vanilla and chocolate cupcake, actually. With coconut lettuce and frosting condiments.

Cupcake sliders from Smiley’s Sweets and Creations

I want one.

Medium rare, please. Extra lettuce.

In my hiatus, I have added several things to my ever-growing TO BLOG list. This was one of them. Hopefully it makes you consider your wasted bread crumbs and be more mindful of our feathered friends. Our recession is their recession. Waste not those crusty bits of toast that fall to the floor and end up on the bottoms of your feet. There’s a pigeon on a windowsill somewhere that needs to feed his family.

Image from Serious Eats.

What to do when you show up for a dinner and a pine cone is on your plate:

1. Hide your shock and disgust
2. Try to embrace this new recession recipe
3. Keep the fact that you had pinecone soup for lunch to yourself

Ok, it’s cheese and almonds (and mouth-watering), and it’s via MyPaperCrane. And don’t get the wrong idea–I have enough pennies not to be eating pine cones for lunch (for now). But I like this cheeseball because it’s an easy way to look like you know your way around a kitchen. I haven’t tried it yet but it’s officially on the “To Cook” mental list (in the “No Cooking Necessary” column). Also, if you like easy, try your hand at these low-fuss Sweet Onion Tartlets from the Food Network’s Sandra Lee. From experience, I can tell you they are a big hit at city-style thanksgiving suppers.

It was just a small gathering of strangers, who decided to surreptitiously plan a birthday picnic of lavish proportions. Magically, the guests were on cue, and to the delight of his boyfriend extraordinaire, the guest of honor was quite surprised.

But not only did this Upper West Side story have a fairy tale ending – it had a theme. A much-disputed one, at that. With their cardigans, sweaters and belted skirts, this humdrum bunch cleaned up nice. Almost 50s Chic, if you caught the glare of the afternoon sun. And after the initial confusion and history-changing champagne POP!, they all set to work on devouring heaps of delicious birthday treats.

There was pumpkin pie cheesecake, still warm lemongrass chicken sticks, bunches of juicy grapes, spicy chutney and croissants. There were cupcakes aplenty, savory deviled eggs, marmalade and pumpkin butter. There was enough macaroni salad to feed a neighborhood of gossiping housewives and the best damn cheese north of 14th street. (If you must know, it’s a delicacy known as English Coastal Cheddar and you can find it at grocery mecca Trader Joe’s. We knew it would go fast, and sure enough – these party guests inhaled the entire block. Good thing we bought two and kept one safe at home for post-party nibbling.)

Nothing goes better with a stuffy picnic than bottles of bubbly. And these picnic-ers brought arms full. Bottles seemed to be peeking out of every bag dangling on every exquisite arm. Chardonnay, sparkling wine and Prosecco, of course. But not for an aperitif, no. They may have been playing posh for an afternoon, but these guests were not that classy. You simply can’t be when you’re drinking out of plastic cups adorned with ribbons and glitter.

And in the lull of the afternoon, with the Hudson sparkling beside them, for a moment they didn’t feel so ordinary. Or so poor. Their day-jobs and financial woes were masked by their ultra-glamourous 50s attire and the city seemed unusually inviting. It was everything a picnic should be: loud, gluttonous and inappropriate.

Sure enough though, an unexpected guest arrived on the scene and boy, did she cause an uproar. Clearly, she had not been invited and thought that by showing up we would invite her to stay. By the time we let her know that she and her kind were not welcome, she had already gotten her fill of our picnic by snatching multiple cupcakes, crackers and even some wrapped chocolates. After all the sugar, we’re pretty sure she didn’t make it through the night. We tried to tell her – squirrels don’t eat frosting. But she didn’t listen. Rude and stubborn.

But at the end of the festivities, in a mildly inebriated state, the guests looked at what they had done and (squirrels aside) they were pleased. All had been achieved. The bottles were empty, the stomachs were full, New York was still wonderful and, most of all…

they were happy.

Typically drawn to the idea of creating non-edible crafts (also known as USELESS), I attribute this new food frenzy I’m in to the sudden slight drop in temperature. Why does fall make people who always burn the sweet potato fries want to suddenly tackle much more difficult kitchen projects? It could be possible that it’s just a common side effect of reading too many food blogs. Or it could be possible that I am ready to tie on an apron and buy a mixer. Hmm … let’s not get crazy. I think it’s wise to separate tummy thoughts from brain thoughts and ask myself could I, would I, should I actually cook these things?

1) The Quest: GRILLED PIZZA (from Lora’s recipes)
Can I substitute pre-made dough for this home-made variety? Or does that make this whole grilled pizza idea moot? A TJ’s pre-made crust could totally play body double here. But I guess that rules out grilled pizza. Maybe I was just in love with the basil and mushrooms. Oh yes, I think that must have been it.

The Reality: I think I’ll nuke some mushrooms and cheese in the microwave.

2) The Quest: SOFT SEASONED PRETZELS (from Joy The Baker)
Chewy, warm and delicious, right? But with all the yeasting and the boiling AND the baking, I think I might just lose all interest and eat a handful of flour. The seasoning and carbs had me at hello. But, well, you know – the waiting is the hardest part.

The Reality: I could see myself baking these … in the next 10 years.

3) The Quest: IMITATION WHEAT THINS (Inspired from Angry Chicken)
Amy says they’re actually better when they are slightly brown. There is no doubt in my tummy or my head that if I made these they would come out of the oven a nice shade of burnt. The recipe doesn’t look too difficult, but I don’t have a mixer on hand and I’m going to go out on a limb here and say our mini food processor just won’t cut it this time. Unless we’re making crackers for mice. Which we probably would be anyways.

The Reality: Little yellow box, I’m not done with you just yet.

4) The Quest: ORANGE CAMPFIRE CAKES (from Bread & Honey)
It’s just oranges and cake batter. And nobody expects you to make that batter from anything other than a box. Add a scooping spoon to remove the juicy insides, wrap in tinfoil and sizzle! Miniature orange-infused cakelets! In my opinion, this whole “fire” thing is a small detail. I have an oven. And an unusually hot shower.

The Reality: Watch out oranges, here I come.

Someone lay down the truth here. Am I out-of-my-mind crazy? Am I just crazy enough? Do I have what it takes? And by that I mean stamina and courage, not whisks and rolling pins (I most certainly DO NOT have those).

MollyAnne has been at the Woodford Reserve bourbon distillery for nine years. She has short white bird-nest hair and a tiny water bottle cliped to her waist. She takes us on the tour of the distillery in Versailles, KY – a tour that came to a very anticlimactic end.

You may be aware that Kentucky held its presidential primaries last week, and by Kentucky law alcohol sales are prohibited until the polls are closed at 6 p.m. Woodford Reserve closes its doors to visitors at 5. So I learned about WR’s esteemed three copper tank distillery process, about their charred and toasted white oak barrels and got to smell their mouth-watering prized bourbon for a good hour and half with no free sample at the end. NO SAMPLE. I hoped there could be some bourbon loophole that differentiated the act of purchasing from the act of tasting without purchase, but sadly no. Kentucky doesn’t want you to be intoxicated might you go to the polls and vote for the republican candidate. (Too bad I stuck my finger in the sniffer MollyAnne filled with straight-from-the-barrell bourbon and tasted it. How could you not?)

In order to be true Kentucky bourbon, you have to follow some tried and true Kentucky rules. At least 51 percent corn meal. Distilled at less than 160 proof from fermented grain mash (a health food, if you believe MollyAnne). Matured in new white oak barrels (which only get used ONCE for bourbon, and then gets shipped to house tequilla, rum and other fine excuses for happy hour) at no higher than 125 proof. Bottled at 80 proof or higher. And nothing can be added to the final product but water.

This water rule might be the most important one. The natural limestone underneath all that Kentucky bluegrass filters all the spring water and removes iron while it adds calcium. This makes for delicious, mineral-enriched bourbon as well as thoroughbreds with strong bone structure. Go Derby.

Sour-mash smells like fresh baked bread. The bubbles aren’t from the heat – just the fermentation of the yeast. To me: a witch’s brew. (MollyAnne once dropped in some sunglasses – when they drained the tank six days later, there wasn’t much left. Somebody somewhere is getting drunk on old lady shades.)

In order to make sure the bourbon is uniform and all batches are just as savory as the next, the master taster tests each barrel and chooses the ones he thinks will make a good mix. Since they may be placed anywhere in the barrel house, the rollers have to carefully, artfully, roll all the barrels out just to get the one that has been requested. Yes, sounds annoying, but you must also remember that the barrel must always come to a stop with the bung (what we un-distillers call “stoppers”) on top. Just sounds anal to me (maybe their bungs are on top, too).

If you really, really love Woodford Reserve, or just have $9,000 to spare, you can request a Personal Selection. Not only do you receive 180 bottles of WR to drink and share with (boast about to) your friends, but it will be a combination of the contents of your favorite barrels. Also – you get your named engraved on a super cool plaque that the tourists get to gawk at in envy. And with your deposit you get to join the ranks of bourbon lovers Jerry Bruckheimer and the MGM Grand (who’s been six times).

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