Insert witty quotation here.

If a picture is really worth a thousand words, then this post is ridiculously long. The good news is, you get to make up your own words for them.

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

(c) r. smith, 2010

[As stated, all pictures are property of me (c) 2010. Please ask for permission before using. Taken in and around St. Augustine, FL.]

Play with your food!

Snickerdoodles, from box cookie mix. (c) 2009 r.smith

Being that this will be my second food-related post in a row, it will come as no surprise that I love the stuff. Food, that is. I love to look at it, I love to eat it, and I love to cook it. I spend what could probably be considered an unhealthy amount of time watching the Food Network, and I talk about my favorite chefs and cooks the way other people talk about their favorite sports stars. I don’t know if anyone else would consider me a foodie, but I most certainly consider myself a bit of a nerd when it comes to the subject. I’m not picky, either.. No, I do not like onions but other than that, there isn’t much I won’t try. That also applies to cooking. Even when I fail, I enjoy the challenge of mastering a recipe and then putting my own spin on it.

I also love to bake. I’ve noticed that a lot of people don’t care for it, and feel like it’s not as much fun as the type of cooking where you get into the kitchen and sprinkle in a little of this and a little of that as you go, eventually achieving what you hope is a culinary masterpiece to be spoken of for generations to come. To the contrary, I say that baking can be even MORE fulfilling than the “other” type of cooking because speaking from experience, there is nothing like the feeling of pride one gets when pulling a perfectly risen cake out of the oven. Or, the most golden brown cornbread you’ve ever seen. Or, biscuits that would put your grandmother’s to shame.. The list could go on, but I think you get the idea.

Revenge of the Killer Cupcakes

Admittedly, I have a weak spot for baking desserts. I’m borderline obsessed with cupcakes, and one of these days I’m going to get around to opening my own bakery. For the time being my friends and family are subjected to guinea pig treatment, as every time I think up some new idea for a cake or brownie or pie they’re the first ones forced to try it. So far I haven’t heard any complaints but then, it could just be that they are sparing my fragile ego. I think the thing that draws me to baked goods of the sugary variety is that they are just so darned fun to dress up, and even more fun to eat. Sure, plain old yellow cake is kind of boring.. that is until you pile on your favorite icing and blast it with sprinkles, nuts, coconut, fresh fruit, anything that strikes your fancy. The sky is the limit! And if you’re anything like me, the messier it looks the more you want to eat it.

While I do enjoy baking from scratch, I will be the first to say that it can be kind of a pain. There’s so much measuring to do, otherwise your cupcakes/cake will fall flat and it will still taste good, but will be much harder to dress up in all of that fun stuff I just mentioned. I see absolutely nothing wrong with using boxed cake/brownie mixes or pre-made frostings. Sometimes baking from a mix is even more fun than from scratch, because it provides a bit of a new challenge– how do I turn this into something special that everyone is going to remember, instead of serving up just another boring old white cake with chocolate frosting?

Bastard birthday cupcakes (c)2010 M. Bertling

The trick is to think of ingredients that aren’t going to add any extra moisture or fat to the mix, because these will throw the ratios in the entire recipe off and result in a cake that is either too dry, or too wet. Or even worse, overdone around the edges and still liquid in the center. Mix-ins like nuts, chocolate chips, certain types of candy (I’m partial to Nerds :] ), and coconut are ideal because they add both flavor and texture without compromising the integrity of the final product. I don’t have a set amount that I add, I just sort of wing it by adding a little at a time until I’m satisfied with my mixture. Another favorite mix-in is different flavor extracts, and I advise using caution because oftentimes 1/4 of a teaspoon is more than enough to flavor an entire cake without being overpowering.

Now, the point of all of that was to get to this, these “Aztec” brownie cookies that I made recently. Sometimes ideas just pop into my head mid-mixture, and they won’t leave me alone until I give them run of the kitchen. I’d decided I wanted to bake something sweet but didn’t really want to go to the trouble of hauling out all of the ingredients required for cookie-making, so I got to digging around the cupboard and lo and behold, a box of brownie mix! Upon inspection of the instructions, I found printed on the back of the box a “modified” recipe for brownie cookies. I like chocolate! I like cookies! The decision was not a difficult one to make. However, as per usual, I felt the need to trash them up a little bit with something unexpected yet delicious.

I have long been a fan of “Aztec” or “Mexican” style chocolate dishes and drinks. My research tells me that because sugar was an unknown commodity to the Aztecs, they mixed their chocolate with water and spices in order to make it more palateable, although reportedly it was still a bitter concoction. Furthermore, this draft was reserved only for royalty and from what I have read, was served in golden goblets that were thrown away immediately after one use. Fancy! I also have a long-standing love affair with more or less anything that involves coffee, and especially coffee and chocolate. The gears were turning. The recipe on the box only called for a small amount of water, so I replaced that with some strong black coffee and also threw in 1/8 of a teaspoon of cayenne pepper. This was enough to impart a warm and somewhat “slow” burn to the finished product, along with just a hint of coffee flavor underlying the chocolate. While the cookies didn’t taste like they had the pepper in them, they definitely felt like it, but not uncomfortably so.

Once the cookies had baked and cooled they were absolutely phenomenal and yet, I felt as if they were missing something. They just looked so.. plain. And doesn’t one good turn deserve another? So I decided to add more chocolate! More coffee, too, for just a little extra kick. More chocolate and coffee in the form of a drizzle of glaze on top of each cookie. I melted approximately 4oz of Ghiradelli bittersweet chocolate together with about a tablespoon of coffee to create the glaze. Because I cannot leave well enough alone, I also gave each cookie a sprinkle with just a few grains of sea salt. Let’s be honest, the great thing about chocolate covered pretzels and peanuts is the salty-sweet combination, so I figured that just a little hint of salt would be fantastic.

[I figured correctly! These cookies came out sounding weird and tasting amazing. I tried to get away with not telling anyone what was in them at first, only because like the vegan food I wrote about in the last post, strange ingredients tend to turn people off from a gustatory experience they may otherwise have enjoyed if not for knowing what was in the food. In the end I think everyone who tried them enjoyed them, and were a little surprised that they liked the flavor combination I'd created.

Like I’ve said before, variety is the spice of life, and quite literally in this case. Next time you’re craving something sweet, grab the first boxed cake or brownie mix you find and start throwing in whatever sounds good to you. Of course, it might not come out exactly like you expected and then you’re out a whole $5. On the other hand, you might be pleasantly surprised, or even end up creating that dessert that’s requested at family get-togethers for years to come. (And for that, I apologize in advance.)

“Aztec” Brownie Cookies
1 package brownie mix (The mix I used, and got the recipe from, was Betty Crocker Hershey’s Ultimate Chocolate Brownie mix. I have never attempted this recipe with another brand so be forewarned, results may vary.)
2 eggs
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tablespoon water (For which I substituted the coffee)
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Pre-heat oven according to instructions included on the box. Mix above ingredients until smooth. Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto a GREASED cookie sheet. Bake according to instructions. (Mine baked for right at 13 minutes, time may vary. The cookies should be “set” around the edges, meaning, kind of crispy looking.) Remove from oven, transfer to wire rack to cool.

Chocolate Drizzle
4oz Ghiradelli bittersweet chocolate (Feel free to use whatever type of chocolate you like however, I chose bittersweet because the cookies are already so sweet by themselves.)
1 to 2 tablespoons of black coffee

Add chocolate and coffee to microwave safe bowl. Microwave for 30 seconds, stirring afterwards. Continue to microwave in 30-second increments until mixture is smooth and all chocolate has melted. If the mixture is too thick, add more coffee. If too thin, add more chocolate. It should “ribbon” off the spoon at the proper consistency. I added this to the cookies by improvising a piping bag– add the mixture to a zip-top bag, and push it all to one corner removing air bubbles in the process. Snip just that corner off the bag to create a tiny opening, and drizzle as you see fit.

Sprinkle some sea salt on each cookie and then place in the fridge or freezer for just a few minutes to make sure that the chocolate sets. Enjoy! :)

“A man’s homeland is wherever he prospers.” – Aristophanes

January in North Carolina Photo (c) r.smith 2010

I was recently recruited by my father to accompany his parents on a trip to Cherryville (pronounced CHUR-uh-vul, just the way it’s spelled), North Carolina to attend a funeral for a distant relative I’d not seen since I was 12 years old. My grandparents aren’t bad to hang out with, just quirky in the way that only grandparents can accomplish, and I figured if nothing else I’d have time to get some reading done. I was more along for assistance than anything else– chauffer, bellboyhop, and as it turned out, navigator.

It was cold but not terribly so, although the chill in the air definitely became more noticeable the farther north we traveled. I hadn’t really packed for anything cooler than what North Florida was experiencing at the time. (It had snowed/sleeted the week prior in several parts of the state.) I figured that I would be spending most of my time inside, whether it be a funeral home, a church, or the home of some other relatives I hadn’t seen in over a decade. I was right for the most part. There was a brief graveside ceremony held after the church service but being that it was still daylight the cold wasn’t too bad.

Afterwards we (and by we I mean myself about about 30 other distant aunts, uncles, and cousins) repaired to the home of the widower. Where, surprisingly, a goodly portion of my Southern Baptist raised family proceeded to break out the Gentleman Jack and send off the dearly deceased in a fashion after my own heart– they got drunk. Unfortunately I was unable to acquire any pictures of this. Being that my “New Year’s Resolution” was to tone my partying and drinking down a bit.. ok, a LOT.. I did not partake. It wasn’t for want of offers though, and the popular reasoning seemed to be “We can’t let Uncle Mark drink alone! Here, have some whiskey.” Straight and neat, might I add– ice is for tea, and cola is for ice cream floats.

The next day is where the real.. well, I wouldn’t call it fun. Interesting, is a better word. The next day is where the real interesting part began. Admittedly I do not know much about my father’s side of the family. Most of them live out of state and thus 10-year gaps in between visits is not an uncommon thing. Usually we only get together for weddings and funerals. I’m closer to my mother’s side, who have largely remained in Florida and very close to home.

The Family Farm. Photo (c) r.smith 2010

I was carted around to several sites of “historical significance” to my family, including the home in which my great-grandmother was born. There have been a few sources of contention between her and I, both when I was a child and now. And now that I’m all grown up and covered with tattoos our relationship certainly isn’t any better. All the same, it was interesting to stumble over the same rough ground that she did when she was a child.

Things like that always seem to hold a certain sense of surrealism for me. There are a lot of places that hold history for the billions that populate our planet and yet this one particular set of coordinates holds specific meaning for me. And yet, for the person who now inhabits the land (and who was kind enough to let us wander around his property for a few minutes), this giant spread of dirt and grass has a completely different significance. It almost makes my head hurt, thinking about it.

A house is not a home.. Photo (c) r.smith 2010

Apparently my ancestors (it feels so strange using that term to refer to people who are still alive) inhabited this little corner of earth for quite some time, because I was also entertained by stories of both my grandmother and my father experiencing portions of childhood at this locale. I heard about the first time my grandfather met his new in-laws. I laughed at the mental image of my father as a child, rolling around on a barn floor with a swarm of domesticated felines that also called that building home. It’s hard to imagine that he– my father, that is– was ever a child. Nevermind imagining my grandmother or my great-grandmother as frolicking schoolgirls. None of them are ancient by any means and yet my world is a foreign place to them. And vice versa. They do not text message or e-mail, and I cannot imagine a world in which these luxuries do not exist.

We got lost one evening and I whipped out my iPhone, bringing up the Maps app. I successfully navigated us back to our hotel and my grandfather protested the entire way, absolutely positive at every turn that we were still lost. He doesn’t understand technology like that, and therefore doesn’t trust it.. I was half expecting him to cry “Witchcraft!” and throw me out of the car. This is not to say that my grandfather is a simple man, he holds three Master’s degrees and is probably the smartest person I have ever known/will ever know. It is to say that he comes from an era when satellites were something that Russia shot into space to spy on America with, not a tool used to automatically pinpoint your phone’s location and lead you back to your warm bed. Or luggage, in this case.

The Family Farm, pt.2 Photo (c) r.smith 2010

To say the very least, the trip was an interesting experience. I managed to avoid the snarky comments from my great-grandmother. I enjoyed spending time with relative strangers (stranger relatives?) who ooh’d and aah’d when I told them that I have a college degree. (I’m not a snob, but it’s always nice when people are impressed with you. :] ) I learned a little about my heritage. I stopped short of bringing it full circle by also rolling around on the barn floor– and besides, those cats are long gone– but I had a pleasant time all the same. I also managed to learn a little about myself in the process.

Home, sweet home. Photo (c) r.smith 2010

I recently moved away from the town I’d lived in for the majority of my 25 years on this earth. As I said earlier, of all the places on earth that hold some sort of meaning for any random person, that town holds special meaning for me. In the end my excuse for moving was that I couldn’t find a job but any way you slice it, it was just “time.” Time to cut the apron strings, time to make an attempt to strike out on my own.. in a way, anyhow. The surroundings were beginning to take a toxic toll on me, and while it would be easy to blame it on the town (because what can the town say in its defense?), I have to remind myself that it’s me that was changing.

A plant will not flourish if its roots are constricted to a too-small pot. On the contrary, it will begin to wither and die. On the other hand.. if you throw a fish into a bigger pond, it will grow in size according to its surroundings. It wasn’t that the town was closing in on me. I was outgrowing the town. And while I was deathly afraid of how homesick I would be upon my departure, the pleasant surprise has been how little of that place I miss. Friends, yes. Places and their associations, not so much. I relocated myself to a bigger pot, a bigger pond, and on the whole I would say that I am much happier for it. Whether or not I will outgrow my new surroundings.. well, only time will tell.