lemon bars
One of my cheap, white mixing bowls is stained yellow at the bottom. That’s how many times I’ve made these lemon bars because they’re so tasty. Ok, admittedly, it’s also because my mixing bowl is not made of the sturdiest, stain-resistant plastic in the world. But it’s also because these are delicious lemon bars.
My college roommate introduced me to this lemon bar recipe. Even if she hadn’t been a great friend to me, I’d love her for this recipe. Even if she hadn’t given me a huge jar full of Hot Tamales for my 22nd birthday (have I mentioned how much I love them?), I’d love her for this lemon bar recipe. Even if she hadn’t nursed me back to health when I forgot to soak the black beans and stupidly thought “Eh, they’ll be crunchy, but they’ll still make a decent dinner,” I’d still love her for this lemon bar recipe.
Too much hulla-balloo about some stinkin’ lemon bars? No, I do not believe it is too much.
Only problem is that I, once again, forgot to take pictures of the final product before I rushed off to class. Actually, I made these a while ago, so this was before the snickerdoodles picture failure. Technically, this was the first “Whoops, I forgot to photograph” recipe. Anyway, I gave some of them to the beloved carnivore and some of them to our wonderful friend Sarah who had a lot of studying to do (lemon bars are brain food, I swear). Sarah very kindly took a few pictures for me. Look how good they look on top of her science-y papers.
Snickerdoodles or Roly Poly cookies (happy birthday, Dad!)
My dad loves snickerdoodles (or what my grandmother apparently called roly poly cookies – maybe rolie polie cookies, I’m not sure how this is spelled). This year for his birthday I sent him a box full of them. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the recipe I’ve used in the past, and every recipe I found online seemed deficient in some way. Some barely used any cinnamon, others looked far too flat and crispy. I mean, your cookies should crunch, but I don’t want to eat cookies that look like coasters. And I don’t want to use coasters that are actually a waste of my butter and flour.
So I wound up blending several recipes, rendering each of them pretty unrecognizable, so I’m going to go ahead and call this an “Amanda” recipe even though I’m sure someone else out there has a very similar recipe (I just didn’t find it).
I was inspired in part by a recent failure in the cookie-making department. I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies for a care package I sent the beloved carnivore’s sister (only I swapped out the chocolate chips for peanut butter M&Ms, something I’d rarely eaten until I met the beloved carnivore, but I’ve converted to appropriately deep appreciation of them). I used the recipe on the back of the chocolate chips bag, forgetting that I’m not a huge fan of that recipe. The cookies come out so flat, even if you refrigerate the dough beforehand. Why? Because it uses baking soda, which is a leavening agent, to be sure, but rarely produces the kind of soft, vaguely bread-like puffy cookies I love. So I scoured the Interwebs for a snickerdoodle recipe that used baking powder instead of baking soda. I found some, which I used as a base, but then after making the cookies I panicked, realizing that in snickerdoodles the baking soda is paired with cream of tartar (which diminishes though does not eliminate, in my opinion, the obnoxious flatness). And the first time I was planning to make snickerdoodles (many moons ago), my dad told me that his mom always used cream of tartar – so my new recipe was clearly going to conflict not only with whatever recipe I must’ve used in the past but with my grandmother’s way of doing this. As an avid devotee of my grandmother’s recipes – her rolls, oh my gosh, you just don’t know how good they are – this was very concerning. I called my dad and told him I may have ruined his birthday. He was very comforting. That’s what dads are for, right? To comfort you when you’re panicked about ruining the birthday presents you’ve made for them? Whether it’s snickerdoodles without cream of tartar or a sand art piece that you’ve accidentally shaken.
Needless to say, my panic was unnecessary, because this recipe worked beautifully and tasted delicious, if I do say so myself. After further research, I discovered that the cream of tartar & baking soda combo is old school and, while still an option, not critical to the making of snickerdoodles that will make your dad happy. Happy Birthday, Dad!!
chocolate stout gingerbread cookies (yeah, you heard me)
My roommate recently said to me how cool she thinks it is that I have such a reputation among various law students at our school for baking – to the extent that one of her friends asked her if she thought there’d be baked goods around if they studied at our apartment . . . Which would ordinarily be likely, but this week I made a batch of cookies that gave me a lot of trouble, so I didn’t have the leftovers I was expecting. Or more precisely, the leftovers wound up in non-cookie form and in the trash, which really upset my waste-not-want-not sensibilities.
But this is not a story about those frustrating cookies. This is a story about other cookies, which I made for Christmas Eve with the beloved carnivore’s family. When my roommate commented on my reputation for being a baked goods fiend, I told her that through baked goods I’d managed to ensure that more fellow students think of me as a happy, nurturing, baked goods person rather than the irritable Connecticut-living-hater that I am. I’m starting to think this may apply in other areas of my life – like maybe if I bring gingerbread cookies to the beloved carnivore’s family, they won’t notice that I’m a little too sassy sometimes . . .
But of course, I would never feed his family chocolate stout gingerbread cookies because I try not to bake too many “Yes, I’m Catholic and I can’t stop cooking with booze” things for them. Instead, I made a batch of Em’s mom’s gingerbread cookies. I cannot recommend her recipe enough – so delicious.
While I was making those, I whipped up a second batch and experimented, using some of the extra stout and Ghirardelli cocoa I had leftover from making our anniversary cake. I’m not going to say the experiment was successful, I’m just going to say that the beloved carnivore said, “Mmmm. You can really taste the stout.” He said that before I iced the cookies – he who when I asked him to try the cookies first responded, “No toppings? I like toppings.”
Of course, I gave in and made some toppings. . . Although these photographs come from the second time I made these cookies, when I was headed to a State of the Union party. I didn’t have donkey or elephant cookie cutters, so I pulled out the farm animals cookie cutters I got in my Christmas stocking and figured “Eh, close enough. Animal Farm was all about politics, right?”
Thanks Punxsutawney Phil! (black bean soup)
I (Emily) go back and forth on ways to handle winter. There’s denial. “What are you talking about – it’s 75 degrees outside!” Or happy acceptance. “Look at how powdery and peaceful that first snow of the year is!” Then there’s of course my favorite – delusion. “Did you all notice those giant piles of ice cream on the sidewalk this morning? Looks like rocky road!” Finally, the fourth phase is the one I entered yesterday – sheer and utter anger. “You know what snow? Buzz off! We’re over and done with and I don’t want to see you and your jerky cousin ice ever again.” Unfortunately snow, sleet and ice are inanimate objects and don’t respond well to threats.
My original thought was to fight back by making a huge assortment of incredibly summery dishes. Anything with watermelon or peaches or tomatoes – oh tomatoes. According to my plans, snow was going to be so defeated by my cheery, winsome attitude and sunny concoctions. But it turns out getting even drab, wintry versions of those summer delicacies would involve leaving my cozy little cave and trudging a couple miles through the snow/sleet/ice mix. I can’t begin to tell you how unlikely that is to happen. Winter 83 – Emily 0.
fresh salsa in five minutes & lazy woman’s nachos
Our cooking extravaganzas follow a somewhat predictable pattern. The dishes vary, but we consistently have a couple of main dishes and usually a vegetable side of some sort. We always have a scone recipe to make, and we always make something to snack on while we cook.
This past cooking extravaganza, we made fresh salsa. It was delicious, stayed fresh the whole time we were cooking, kept well in the fridge, and the best part is that it was ready in less than five minutes.
10 recipes for the snowed-in
Half the country is either snowed in or stuck at home because of the frigid cold. But you still need to eat, so here are some recipe recommendations, some from our own humble blog and some from elsewhere.
1. Chicken Pot Pie – this can be made with ingredients from your pantry, and it’s filling & warm & delicious. For those without Bisquick, Jiffy’s all-purpose baking mix also works well.
Third time’s a charm (vegetable cobbler)
I know, I know, I’m supposed to be telling you about the black bean soup, or salsa, or apple tart Amanda and I made together a week ago. But can I tell you about this cobbler first? Please? Given that your only course of action is to yell at your computer screen days after I write this entry, I’m going to take the current silence in my apartment as your tacit approval. You’re all so kind.
I have stalked this cobbler ever since it appeared on my radar a few months ago. I could never quite get it the way I wanted it, until this week. Yes, this week I found a way to merge all the positives of two different recipes and the madness in my brain to come up with this vegetable success. A crisp, fresh medley of red, green and yellow vegetables nestled in flavor-infused potatoes and topped with little pillows of bread. Seriously, it’s divine.
rocky road granola bars
I (Amanda) bought some quick oats recently. I had a serious craving for oatmeal, which happens sometimes, and that was the only type of oats the drug store near me had. I think it’s my stepdad’s fault that I get oatmeal cravings. He is famous for his love of oatmeal. Maybe it’s not love, maybe it’s begrudging acceptance of oatmeal as a very nutritious breakfast. He’s remarkably healthy in his eating habits and is the first person I ever knew who expressed deep appreciation of brussel sprouts. So maybe for him nutrition & love are the same thing, at least when it comes to breakfast.
Almost every morning, my stepdad has a big bowl of oatmeal, usually mixed with raisins. When I was little, I thought this was gross. Who in their right mind picks that bowl of oatmeal and raisins over a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios? Well, once I moved to Chicago and had to walk to class in the brutal, cold wind of a Chicago winter, I kind of understood why one would choose the oatmeal. Even though I don’t live in Chicago anymore, I still embrace oatmeal and every now and again have a downright craving for it.
But this is not a post about oatmeal. This is a post about granola bars that Emily and I made. Granola bars that you can make with quick oats, which you may have lying around because of a long-past oatmeal craving. Unlike most granola bar recipes, they don’t require baking time in the oven. You just let them set in the fridge and a few hours later, you have granola bars that are far tastier than the kind you get in the store.
Confectionary dorkiness (sugar cookies with royal icing)
I think I’ve mentioned how great my family is at some point or another, but have I mentioned how weirdly funny my brothers, cousins and extended relatives are? At our annual Christmas white elephant exchange last month, a horse calendar was one of the first items to be taken off the market by virtue of excessive steals. Mind you, no one in the family wanted a horse calendar. No, people were stealing it so that they could have the privilege of re-gifting the present to my cousin Mason – who, for unknown reasons, is thoroughly anti-horse. Even the 10 year-olds were forgoing interesting gifts in favor of the potential schadenfreude of the calendar’s pictures.
shrimp etouffee
Most people have fond memories of their grandmothers’ cooking, and I do too. But I’m one of the lucky ones who also has a grandfather that cooks. Every time my mom and I would visit him and my grandmother when I was growing up, he’d get up early the morning we were leaving and make a batch of pralines for us to take home. They rarely made it all the way home, since it was a six hour drive and pralines are one of my absolute favorite things in the entire world.
My grandfather is Cajun, and he has an endless wealth of knowlege about Cajun cooking – everything from gumbo to jambalaya to etouffee. My mom taught me how to make gumbo and jambalaya a long time ago, but as much as I love our little blog I will not be sharing those family recipes any time soon – you’ve got to at least take me out to dinner and buy me flowers if you want those recipes, and I don’t know how the beloved carnivore would feel about you trying to woo me. Anyway, at some point in the past few years, my grandfather taught me how to make etouffee. He uses Tony Chachere’s recipe as a base, but he (and now I) edit it a good bit. There’s almost more of my handwritten notes in the cookbook than actual, printed text.
Etouffee is not a 30-minute dinner. It’s not the easiest thing in the world to make, especially if you’re cleaning the shrimp yourself. But it is 100% worth it.
emandam 