Mini-post: Homemade Crepes

Why do crepes feel like such a treat? Why do so many people whip up epic quantities of pancakes on Sunday morning but haven't thought of making crepes? As Jen and I discovered this weekend, it's as easy as making pancakes, healthier, and the opportunities for creative genius in fillings are endless. And it's fun in pretty much the same way making your own pizza is fun.

Ham, apple, swiss cheese, and honey crepe.

Inspired by my favorite cooking magazine, Everyday Food, we whipped up a half-batch of crepe batter -- enough for four crepes. The key here was pureeing the batter to ensure even blending of the ingredients, and I added a little cinnamon because I like cinnamon. Nutmeg would be interesting too. You should also allow the batter to sit once blended, apparently in order to let bubbles dissipate.

We did a sweet (Nutella and banana; boring but delicious) and a savory/sweet (ham, apple, swiss, and honey). The genesis of the latter came in me wandering Whole Foods, in my own mischievous and hungry little world, as Jen trailed behind making sure I was actually picking the right things off the shelf. She's used to this sort of thing. It's probably a lot like babysitting.

I have to say, making the crepes, stuffing them, and baking them was A LOT of fun. I fully intend to host a build-your-own-crepe brunch at my house (takers?) and do a far more in-depth post about crepe-ing at that time, but for now, awesome and easy dinner. 

Winning the Future! With Cookies.

I know that each and every one of my readers is a civic-minded and politically engaged individual who watched the State of the Union (SotU) address last night. The theme of which was "Winning the Future." The acronym of which is "WTF." Wonky giggling.

Want a way to make sure the fun never ends? Do as Sarah and Shirley, two of our office fellows did, and make the experience a gastronomic one!

You see, working with three of the AAUW fellows, the young women who work at our organization developing public policy and government relations experience, I wrote up a "Making the State of the Union Interactive" sort of blog post for our org. The post listed a bunch of ways to enrich the SotU viewing experience, from a thinly-veiled drinking game (non-alcoholic punch, I promise) to wordclouding the speeches -- the president's as well as the official Republican response from Rep. Paul Ryan. And, I suppose, the officially crazy response from Michele Bachmann (if I lose readers over THAT comment, then I am sad).

The fellows were instrumental in making the post quite food oriented, and among their best ideas was the following. Behold: the Bipartisan cookies!

All that remained.

Note the different themes. Some are solid blue and solid red side by side, reflecting the way in which the two parties normally sit to hear the president's annual address. One is a ying-yang, which is crazy, because if there's ANYTHING that is truly unbalanced it's the U.S. Congress.

Others are red and blue spotted, which reflects the way the parties mingled last night at the suggestion of Third Way, a silly organization that thinks everyone should try to get along. Where's the fun in that?

Finally, I particularly like the closest cookie, which reflects the emotional state of our lawmakers as they were forced to sit next to one another and be civil throughout the proceedings.

Clementines: Nature's Tangerine-Flavored Candy

I forgot to tell everyone on Wednesday, but on Wednesday, Hungry Sam turned one. Which in blog years, means that Hungry Sam is a cranky and stressed out teenager. Or something!

To reward you all, I'm going to talk about clementine oranges. Which I LOVE.

Not true size. Or maybe, depending on the size of your computer screen.

Clementines are little oranges about the size of a large donut hole (or if you're from Canada, a large "Timbit"). They are easy to peel, generally seedless (although clementine FAILS occur; see below), extremely sweet, sold by the 5-lb. box, and are at their best in December, January, and February. I like them so much I may have eaten a whole box in 24 hours a week ago (although to be fair, I was doing the 13-hour drive from Maine to D.C. at the time).

I WIN

The best part about eating a clementine is peeling them (which I promise I wasn't doing while driving, mostly). It's like a challenge each time to see if you can remove the rind intact. I mean, it's not hard, so you mostly just feel like a failure when you can't, but there it is.

The second best thing about clementines is that they're wicked healthy, so I don't feel bad about about bringing six of them to work with me as snacks. Also, now my office smells GREAT.

The third best thing about clementines is that they essentially taste like candy.

The worst thing about clementines is clementine FAILS. These occur when the clementine isn't sweet enough, is too firm (and thus IMPOSSIBLE to peel in one piece), or when there are seeds. I mean, really -- I eat these little babies instead of giant citrus because they're so easy. But when each of the eight segments or whatever has like three seeds, that's the opposite of easy. It's hard.

OK, that's all I have to say about that. Go buy yourself a box of clementines -- you won't be disappointed, unless you are!

Holidays in Maine Means Lobster and Tree-Shaped Cake

Without addressing the theological and cultural implications of a Jewish person doing Christmas -- I do Christmas.

Rather, my family does (and always has); my mother is Christian and doing Christmas (having a tree, exchanging presents, eating special dishes) is one of the many ways we have integrated the traditions and memories with which my mom grew up into our family's life. Plus, Chanukah is kind of a stupid holiday.

BUT that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is that Jen and I hit up my home in Maine for Christmas. A total of five cancelled flights led to two extra days in Maine for me and four for Jen -- and a number of extra meals with the family.

Highlights!

My mom made her EPIC lobster stew on Christmas Eve. This is truly epic -- NUMEROUS lobsters, picked and cooked in a rich but loose tinned milk-based stew. My mom's famous for this stuff -- just don't ask her about the time TWO consecutive batches were ruined due to the tendency of regular milk to curdle when interacting with the residue from the rubber bands around lobster claws. Don't ask my dad, either; he was the one who picked all those damn lobsters. Now, however, my parents have perfected the process; the result is a tangy, savory stew bursting with claw and tail meat.

SO MUCH LOBSTER MEAT!

My mom also whipped up a pretty super roasted beet, walnut, and goat cheese salad with the meal, one totally worth mentioning:

That morning, we feasted on an incredible french toast souffle, one which had sat and soaked in its batter in the fridge overnight. It souffled so much that we couldn't get it out of the oven without the peaks scraping the heating elements on the oven's roof -- and though this photo came after the souffle began to fall, I think it captures how buttery and airy the dish finished. It looks a little weird, but at the end of the day, this is the fluffiest, well-spiced, mouth-wateringest french toast EVAH.

Finally, the last few years I've been the one to make our family's traditional Christmas tree coffee cake. You roll out your refrigerated-rised pastry dough into a 10" by 16" rectangle and cover it in a mixture of pecans, dates, sugar, melted butter, and cinnamon. The dough is then rolled (hotdog direction) and cut into 16 even rolls. These are then arranged on a cookie sheet in the shape of an evergreen tree, painted with a little more butter, and are allowed to rise for a while before baking. We always frost with a little green vanilla frosting, like so:

This is a coffee cake in only the loosest of senses, for in truth, it's essentially an arrangement of sticky buns with a Christmas flair. So damn good.

In my house, Christmas isn't a religious event -- after all, my brothers and I are Jewish. But the Christmas foods are a touchstone, one that helps to make Christmas real and traditional and meaningful for my mother. Giving my mom the chance to be drawn back into wonderful memories from her childhood and to continue to make memories with her family (and this time around, with Jen too) is what it's all about.

Do any of you have interesting Christmas/holiday traditions and foods? Share in the comments section!

Chocolate Destruction!

I have...destructive...tendancies. My brothers and I would build then, more importantly, destroy Lego cities; I have a weird unconscious habit of tearing apart my dinner napkins and shredding paper in my hands; and I have the same fascination with knives, axes, fire, and small- to mid- range explosives as do many boys.

Given all this, the thought of a food the preparation of which entails a little physical violence inspires in me no small amount of glee.

Faced with this prospect, I may have overdone the chocolate orange.

I have, for years, seen Ferrara Chocolate Oranges in stores and chocolate shops, yet never have I tried one. So when my parents threw one into my Christmas stocking, I was delighted. Here was chocolate that didn't just benefit from, but straight-up required, the application of directed force.

Yet when the time came, and I slammed it once -- twice -- three times -- four times into surfaces of increasing hardness (wood to granite) -- the orange, wrapped in its foil, barely seemed to feel it.

Then I opened it -- I'd shattered half into tiny slivers and chunks, and maybe half had split into the desired wedges. Good enough!

Coming soon: Marination clarification and pictures/recipe for my family's Christmas Tree Coffee Cake!

Please Direct Your Attention to the Insane Gingerbread Houses

I almost drew blood biting my knuckle so I could avoid laughing hysterically while my colleague was on the phone. Thank you, someecards, for this majestic series of "The 6 most offensive and/or psychotic gingerbread houses we could find."

My personal favorite: The Gingerbread Asylum

It's funny 'cause they're crazy.

Candy Canes Suck. Try These Instead!

It's a well known fact that candy canes suck. Why? Well, a cane shape is perhaps the worst of all possible orientations for candy, and come on, peppermint candy is nothing special anyways. Why unhinge your jaw like an Emerald Tree Boa Constrictor just to fit a damn breath mint in your mouth? Then it shatters and you have shards of freshness piercing your tender gums. And it's a damn mess. Nobody wins with a candy cane.

Fortunately, the good (I might even say inestimable) people at Tootsie (and my colleague AH, whom I have now proclaimed "most knowledgeable holiday candy person within a 40 foot radius of me at work") have brought us an amazing treat -- both an improvement on peppermint candy in general but also an alignment of said candy more consistent with, say, the way a human face works. 

It's a peppermint tootsiepop. Unlike candy canes, they are NOT awkward, painful, and ultimately sticky experiences, AND they are filled with tootsie chocolate. WORD. 

My sneaking, sinking suspicion, however, is that they're seasonal.