Irish Coffee

The year was 2019. Astronauts Christina Koch and Jessica Meir completed the first all-woman spacewalk in NASA’s history, Rami Malek won the Oscar for Best Actor, Joy Harjo became the US poet laureate, and everyday folks like me could safely eat in restaurants and travel abroad. I did both.

My first ever European adventure began at a Chinese restaurant in Kentucky. After almost a full year of planning a trip to Ireland with friends, the day had finally arrived for me to set foot on European soil. We headed to the airport and planned to arrive 2 hours early, the recommendation for international travel. We got to the airport and what did we find but our flight had been canceled due to poor weather in Chicago. We weren't even going to Chicago to fly out, but apparently, our plane was coming to us from the windy city. Long story short: we suggested every alternate possibility we could think of, the agent tried everything she could think of, but Dublin was going to have to wait one more day. The only thing to do was drown our sorrows in mai tais and martinis at the Oriental Wok.

And so the trip to Ireland began.

We did eventually make it to Ireland, our first stop being in Dublin. We got settled in to our lodgings and casually walked around they city with no real agenda. We took in some sights and eventually crossed the River Liffey to an area which looked less crowded. We decided it was time to drink our first Guinness, and we looked for a pub which felt more local than tourist. We settled on a hole-in-the-wall place with a few patrons at the bar. At the end of our trip, we would recount this stop to our taxi driver who absolutely could not believe we went into that establishment and enjoyed it. We were astounded that he was astounded and pressed him to tell us why. He said it would be like if he went to America and stopped at our most unreputable bar. We laughed and joked that if he came to the most unreputable bar in our hometown, he'd probably find us there, too. The pub didn't seem that bad to me, so I don't know what that says about America or about me, but there you have it.

We thoroughly enjoyed many great stops on our trip, reputable or not, but I think my favorite town we stayed in was Doolin.

A quaint building in Doolin near the restaurant where Larry got the best Irish Coffee he had ever had

Doolin felt more laid back (and to be fair, all of the Ireland I experienced was friendly and relaxed,) or maybe all that fresh Atlantic air made me more laid back, or maybe both. It was during the time in Doolin that I visited the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren which were two of my favorite natural areas. It was in Doolin where we stayed at an estate overlooking the ocean and in which the kitten snuck into our dwelling repeatedly and tried to eat the cheese. It was in Doolin where we ate at a low-key French restaurant with amazing food and drinks and where we listened to Irish music two nights in a row at one of the local pubs. I'd go back to Doolin in a heartbeat.

I could go on about Ireland for hours but this is a food blog, not a travel blog. If you would like to see a small handful of my photos from Ireland, you can find them here:
https://studiosuz.wixsite.com/mysite/ireland

When I was choosing the next recipe card from the Betty box, I came across the Coffee Dessert Duo, Card #24 from the section Snacks Around the Clock.

One of the recipes listed is Irish Coffee. Images of Ireland began to dance in my head. It has been just over a year since the trip. Diane and I recently discussed going back and all the new places we would visit, as well as a return to Doolin. It might not be until 2022, though. We feel lucky we went when we did and grateful for all the wonderful experiences. Though we might not get back for a while, until then, I can have a little taste of Ireland in my own home.

This recipe isn't complicated. You make coffee, pour in some whiskey, and top with whipped cream. Betty has you make the whipped cream from scratch, but you could use Reddi-Whip if you wanted. She also suggests topping with instant coffee grounds, but I topped with nutmeg instead. I did make the whipped cream as per the recipe and it was absolutely delightful. It was thick and had just the right amount of sweet to balance the bitterness of the coffee. The Irish whiskey I like for mixing is Jameson Caskmates, Stout Edition. For drinking neat, I like Green Spot.
https://www.spotwhiskey.com/en-US
And certainly, you could omit the whiskey and have a coffee enhanced with flavorful homemade whipped cream if you wanted. You could add a little bit of hot chocolate instead of whiskey for a different flavor combo. That could be quite tasty, too.

Rating: 5 Red Spoons! Go ahead and make the whipped cream from scratch. It isn't difficult and provides a quick and easy sense of accomplishment.

As we head into the new year, I want to thank everyone who has been reading about my Betty Crocker adventures. I'll have many more to come in the new year. Thank you for leaving your comments here and on Facebook. Your engagement makes me feel supported. Thank you for your kindness. I want to leave you today with this traditional Irish Blessing:

MAY PEACE AND PLENTY BE THE FIRST TO LIFT THE LATCH TO YOUR DOOR AND HAPPINESS BE YOUR GUEST TODAY AND EVERMORE.

Suz

Cornish Pasties

From the Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library, International Favorites, Card #14, Cornish Pasties

I was curious about the origins of the Cornish pasty and this delightful article offered great insights:

https://www.historic-uk.com/CultureUK/The-Cornish-Pasty/

If you aren't inclined to read the whole article, highlights include:
•the shape of the pasty was useful for avoiding arsenic poisoning and
•initials were carved into the dough so when the crusts were left for the "Knockers," spritely folk, they would know who left food offerings and who didn't.

I didn't carve out initials into my dough, but I would have, had I read the above article sooner. The instructions say to poke holes in the pastry dough for ventilation, so there would be a practical reason for carving them, too. About the dough: the recipe calls for the ready-made Betty Crocker brand pie crust mix. Wondering if it was even still manufactured, I poked around the internet a bit. I found that long-time users of the product were unhappy with a relatively recent recipe change. I didn't even know boxed pie crust mixes existed, having only ever purchased the pre-made frozen crusts. So...It seemed logical enough that since I had never made pie crusts at all and the box mix was apparently unsatisfactory, I should definitely make a crust from scratch. Good, sound logic.

In wanting to keep with the Betty Crocker tradition, I went to the Betty Crocker website and found the recipe for pie crust dough. You can find that here:
https://www.bettycrocker.com/how-to/tipslibrary/baking-tips/how-to-make-pie-crust#02
scroll down to the 2-Crust Pie and if using it for the Cornish Pasties recipe, double it

My mom, in pre-pandemic years, loved to peruse the sale aisles of the grocery/super store. I am often the recipient of many "good deals" including kabob skewers which were purchased for a quarter, reduced price printer paper, discounted paring knives and more. One such bargain was a pastry blender. I vaguely recall using this once before, although I couldn't tell you what for. At any rate, it sits unused most of the time, so I imagine when I dug it out from the depths of the baking drawer, it felt like it had been called down as a contestant on the Price is Right. The rolling pin must have felt this way, too. It lives in the dank, bottom drawer for miscellaneous "big" things. Remember when contestants on the Price is Right would get so giddy with excitement they would freeze at bidding time and Bob Barker would scold them? That was the rolling pin.

Having my rarely used kitchen tools in hand and having wiped the counters thoroughly, the dough making began. Dough making is not for the weak. I mean this in the most literal way. Strong hands required. Strong forearms helpful. Do not cry, I told myself. This was your choice, I told myself. When the recipe calls for salt, it doesn't mean the salt of your tears, I told myself.

Once the dough has been made, the recipe says to let it rest. I understood this to mean let myself rest for 45 minutes, too.

Upon returning to the dough, it was time to roll it out into twelve inch rounds, and try as my weak little hands would allow, I could not get twelve inch rounds. This mattered only because there was filling leftover after the rounds had been stuffed. It's fine to just put those leftovers in the Betty Crocker Beef Stew which I planned on making next, anyway. In making this recipe vegetarian friendly, I used some Boca protein crumbles and button mushrooms in place of the beef. I typically prefer foods like this veg heavy rather than meat substitute heavy. I would have left the crumbles out entirely if I hadn't already had a little bit left in the freezer. I was skeptical about serving this with pickles as the photo shows, but the pickles add a nice contrast of cool, crispness to the hot, baked pasty. The recipe also says you can serve it with chili sauce, but it doesn't give a recipe for that. I made an aioli by combining mayo and sriracha. I put a dollop on top and then spread it out while eating. I think it would be perfectly fine without the sauce. Maybe, for variety, just a couple sprinkles of Frank's hot sauce would be nice. Frank's hot sauce enhances so many foods.

Not a great photo of the inside. I almost completely forgot to take a pic of the inside, though, so this is it.

Cornish pasties are a lot of work in terms of prepartion, and I need to work on my dough fluting skills, but overall rating:
4 Red Spoons. Tasty, but labor intensive.

Luau Lunch

Featuring Betty Crocker Recipe Cards #19 and #18 of Entertaining on a Shoestring, Polynesian Kabobs and Waikiki Meatballs

What better to do in the middle of a midwest winter than to have a lunchtime luau? Put on your muʻu muʻu, aloha shirts, and slippers and play some Keola Beamer on the record player. It's time to get our aloha spirit on!

My mother grew up in Honolulu, Hawaii. Most of my maternal family still live there. I've been there several times over the course of my life, and each time I've been, I've experienced something new. Hawaii can offer you great hikes with waterfall rewards or panaromic ocean views. You can snorkel, surf, visit the only palace on US soil, go on foodie adventures and take in so many cultural experiences...including the luau. There are a variety of luau experiences, from what I've read in travel guides. I've only been to one that I can remember. About fifteen years ago I went with the family to the one hosted by the Hale Koa. (To be noted, the Hale Koa serves people who are retired or are currently serving in the US military. I was able to go because my parents were present, and my dad is a retired veteran of the US Navy.)
Guests were invited to learn about the imu pit where the kalua pork was cooking, poi was served, there was lomi salmon, a range of vegetables, and the meal ended with haupia, a coconut dessert which I love. Haupia is often called a "pudding" but to me is more similar to a custard or flan. Haupia cake, that's even better, in my opinion. Layers of cake and haupia combined into one melt-in-your-mouth drool worthy dessert. Ono. (Hawaiian word for delicious.)

snapshot of Hale Koa Luau imu pit

Check out this link to learn more about haupia:
https://onolicioushawaii.com/haupia/
And check out the full Hale Koa luau menu here:
https://www.halekoa.com/experiences/events/luau
Due to Covid 19, they are not currently hosting the luau experience. Also to be noted, they have options for vegetarians, which is what I got, I'm sure. It's been so long ago, I really only remember some of the entertainment and the haupia.

According to the travel guides, the foods listed in the Hale Koa menu are the kinds you should seek out when considering which luau to attend. Otherwise, you might end up with a buffet of foods you could get anywhere, some pineapple, and a hula show.

I don't know the origins of these two Betty Crocker recipes. Were foods like this served at luaus in the 70s? I could kinda see that. I can see hotels trying to cater to a midwest palate while trying to make foods a little more "exotic" (insert pineapple here.)

I imagine a conversation about menu planning that went like this:
What foods are economically savvy? What do people in Ohio like to eat? What do people in Ohio associate with Hawaii?
And the answers were meatballs and pineapple and thus was born the Waikiki Meatball. Whatever the origin, I'm going to cut to the chase and tell you the meatless meatballs were onolicious. The kabobs were pretty good, too.

I started with the kabobs since they had to marinate for a while and cutting all the components would take time. I did not carefully read the instructions so I ended up discarding some of the pineapple juice. As I was draining the pineapple, I stopped while I had about half the juice left because I wondered if pineapple juice might enhance the marinade. So, I checked the recipe card to see if the flavors would be complementary. This was when I read that I was actually supposed to reserve the juice for the dipping sauce. Alas! At least I still had some left! I added some lemon juice which I hoped would make up for the missing pineapple juice. It turned out just fine. Whew! Tofu was substituted for the ham/turkey the recipe calls for. I used extra firm tofu rather than firm or silken as it holds up best when using as a meat substitute. The marinade was delicious and I would highly recommend it whether you want to marinate tofu, chicken, or ham. All in all, a success.
Then I started in on the Waikiki Meatballs. This recipe called for a lot of ingredients present in the kabobs. Since I was serving them together, I chose to make the meatballs as a standalone. The green pepper and pineapple would be present in the kabob. The pineapple sauce from the kabobs could be used for the meatballs as a dipping sauce, too. If I were serving the Waikiki Meatballs without the kabobs, I would make it as the card suggests. Otherwise, it's just meatballs, not Waikiki Meatballs. I used protein crumbles instead of meat. This is the one I used:
https://www.bocaburger.com/products/00759283601045
I lightly thawed the crumbles in a skillet with avocado oil and seasoned with salt and pepper, then followed the recipe as outlined. Sort of. I would guess that when a 1970s recipe calls for crackers, they mean saltines or Ritz, but I was fresh out, so I used 1/3 cup of crumbled Wasa crackers and 1/3 cup of Panko. I also added a little bit of flour in hopes that it would help the mixture hold together. At first, the crumbles weren't holding the spherical shape. The flour seemed to do the trick. I used butter where it calls for shortening, and there was no small amount of butter used, either. Beef has fat which crumbles don't have. Thus, the crumbles were soaking up the butter and no new fat was being rendered (I think that's what I mean. Like when fat comes out of a food and you continue to cook in that liquid fat. Chime in in the comments if you know more accurately.) So, add more butter. I did add some avocado oil, too, as my arteries were hardening just taking in all that butter with my eyes.
These meatless meatballs were delicious. I'm going to make them again in their full Waikiki glory. I'm going to make them again as-is as a meatball appetizer with frilled toothpicks in each one. I'm going to make them again to use in a meatball sub. The possibilites are many.

my kabobs and meatless meatballs

So, while these recipes may or may not be the traditional Hawaiian experience, they were successful in their own right.

And if you ever find yourself in Hawaii, go to a luau at least once. Allow yourself to enjoy being in a group of complete strangers, eating food you'll likely not have anywhere else on the mainland. Enjoy that simple pleasure of sipping on a cold beverage, be it a frou-frou cocktail or an iced tea with a giant wedge of pineapple, while the tradewinds gently tussle your hair. Don't be above it. It's 2020 aka Pandemic Year and we aren't supposed to be dining with the masses in any kind of gathering, be it Thanksgiving, an indoor restaurant or anything else. Remember that when deciding whether or not to hit the luau. Remember what a privlege it is to be able to sit with so many strangers in one place, all, like you, having come for a taste of paradise.

Polynesian Kabobs: marinade: 5 red spoons! overall: 4 red spoons, good, but kind of a lot of work skewering everything.

Waikiki Meatballs: 5 red spoons! So delish! Much versatility!

Orange Baked Alaskas

According to Wikipedia, a Baked Alaska is a dessert consisting of ice cream and cake topped with browned meringue. This recipe calls for the ice cream and browned meringue, but instead of cake, it uses oranges. First of all, this is Recipe Card #2 from the section Seasonal Favorites -- Winter of the Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library.

Second of all, I don't know why oranges filled with ice cream fall under the category of winter favorites. My only association with oranges and winter together is that sometimes oranges are found in the toe of Christmas stockings. I don't know where this originates either, but I can tell you that the 10th Doctor of Doctor Who, in the Christmas special, "The Christmas Invasion," used a Satsuma to save himself when under attack from the Sycorax.

I'm not so curious about these things that I'm going to do more than a quick internet search, but I am a little curious, so here is what a quick search reveals:

from the site: www.countrysidecitrus.com
"People can buy navel oranges nearly any time of year, but true navel orange lovers will be best to buy oranges between November and January when the taste is at perfection. The fruit will be fine during other times, but this is the season when natural growers release their best treats."

and from the Smithsonian Magazine article: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/why-we-should-bring-back-tradition-christmas-orange-180971101/
The story seems to begin with three women whom St. Nicholas saved from slavery when he provided them with a dowry of a bag of gold. It seems as though our jolly friend, who was perhaps actually the Bishop of Myra, chucked three sacks of gold down the chimney of the house where the three women lived. The gold landed in the stockings the women had hung up to dry by the fire. From there, it seems that the tradition evolved, and as a nod to the "Miracle of the Dowries," gold was replaced with the affodable alternative, the orange. This is actually a fascinating article which I would recommend.

That answers the question about oranges being a winter favorite, and I'm just going to shrug it off and say that perhaps it is warm enough in some parts of the country during the winter for ice cream to be seasonally fitting.

Back to the Baked Alaska. In regards to the photo of the recipe, another highly misleading image. Betty's image looks like at least 3/4 of an orange, if not essentially a whole one. It is unlikely the orange in this photo contains any ice cream, and I would venture to say that it hasn't had the fruit removed and replaced as the recipe instructs. I'm ok with it not containing the ice cream or having been prepared according to instructions. I am not ok with it depicting a whole orange when the recipe states each serving as half an orange. I am also not okay with the extraordinary amount of meringue shown. If this were a stand alone foodie Instagram shot, no worries. BUT THIS IS A RECIPE. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT TO ACTUALLY EXPECT. After topping one of my orange halves, I could see that there was not going to be enough meringue for the other five halves if I continued at this rate.

Important lessons learned: if I want the photos of the food to be as much a part of this blog experience as anything else, I need to plan the photo first. Everything needs to be laid out in such a manner that when the food is complete, I simply place it, turn on the lights, and start shooting. Any good food photographer knows this. I knew this. I got so wrapped up in the recipes, I forgot. Also, the hunger need often overpowers the photo need. I knew this. I forgot.

Here it is, my Orange Baked Alaska.

Rating 4 red spoons
Like the recipe card says, this dessert takes time, but it was refreshing and delicious. Would make again under the right circumstances. I wouldn't say this was a dinner party dessert. While you can prepare the oranges and ice cream ahead of time, provided you have space in your fridge and freezer, the meringue needs to be fresh, I would think. The meringue takes time, so you would be stuck in the kitchen while your guests wondered where you were. UNLESS you have a stand mixer. Oh, how I do want a stand mixer. HOWEVER, I could see chilling out with my friend Margie one weekend, and while she prepared the oranges, I could prepare the meringue. It's good to have friends you can cook with.

Stir-Together Soups

I can't think of another brand of canned soup that holds the same instantly recognizable colors, design, and logo as Campbell's Soup. I also can't help but think that Andy Warhol undoubtedly helped elevate this humble soup to its iconic stature.

https://www.warhol.org/art-and-archives/

I was teenager when I first learned about Andy Warhol. If the internet existed in the late eighties/early nineties, I didn't know about it. If I wanted to learn more about something, I'd go to the library and flip through the wooden card catalog that sat just beyond the front desk and right before the main room of books. I'd open a drawer and the scent of old wood and worn paper would waft out like spirits of all the authors contained within. Eventually, I'd come to know the sections and where I could go and browse my personal interests. Warhol, Andy. Contemporary of John and Yoko. New Yorker. Celebrated for his unique appearance and quirky persona. Warhol, Andy who could elevate a single yellow banana or soup can into art.

There were no smart phones either, and even though I did have a camera back then, I did't carry it everywhere. It used 110 film and had limited lighting capabilites. Also, I was a child without much money to burn on film, so I wasn't taking foodie photos at every whim. But I thought about it. Every time my mother dragged me to the store, I thought about making pictures of those red and white soup cans neatly stacked and forward facing. The grocery store was no longer just a chore, but a chore with the possibility for art.

Campbell's soup wasn't merely a work of art I associated with Warhol, though. I ate a fair amount of it, too. Classic Chicken Noodle, Chicken and Rice, Chicken and Stars, Bean with Bacon (which I didn't really like, but tried to like because my older cousin did), Vegetable, and Cream of Potato were usually found in the pantry. As I grew up, I veered away from Campbell's toward other brands, but I'd still play around with the Cream of Potato from time to time. I started to think of the can of soup as a base which could be elevated by adding some garlic or rosemary or grated cheese. It was a cheap and easy meal made a little better.

As I was thumbing through the recipe box this time, I came across Stir-Together Soups featuring the one and only Campbell's. I had just come off a weekend of soufflé making and wanted something easy. When I added rosemary and garlic to the canned Cream of Potato, it was transformed into something less tinny with more depth of flavor. Maybe this recipe would be another transformative soup experience. I chose Vegetable Cheese Chowder.

This recipe card is another in which there are multiple options on the print side. This one, unlike Winter Salad Variety, at least showcased one of those options in the photo.

The recipe calls for Cream of Chicken, so I'm not sure why it isn't called Chicken Vegetable Cheese Chowder. Maybe that title was too long. I'm vegging it out, so I chose Cream of Mushroom to replace the C of C. It also calls for a 10oz package of frozen vegetables, a few ounces of shredded cheese, and milk for preparing the soup as directed. That's it. You've basically got a recipe made from canned soup enhanced with frozen veg and a sprinkle of cheese to garnish. To its credit, it has several food groups represented. It is affordable. It is efficient. I could imagine myself as a child eating this. (Insert flashback music and wavy lines) Yes, there I was sitting down on a tweed-covered chair at the long oak table my parents had when I was a kid. Mom always kept that table covered with a tablecloth, the padded plastic kind with a 1970s floral print. There I was, my long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail, eating this Vegetable Cheese Chowder out of a glass bowl with a green-lined rim. I probably would have liked it. (End flashback scene)
My 2020 self thought it tasted like a tinny can of soup and frozen veg. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't great, and I wouldn't make it again, but it wasn't terrible. It was, however, inspirational.

served with fresh greens to cut the richness of the cream

I kept thinking this recipe might be on the cusp of something good. I thought that maybe I could start with the Cream of Mushroom base and add fresh vegetables instead of frozen. I could top with some sour cream or crème fraîche instead of shredded cheese. Maybe I could even do away with the condensed soup base and start with basic veg broth, make a roux, add milk, boil a potato, sauteé it with carrots, onions, celery and summer corn. I could add some spices and combine all that to make a chowder from scratch. I could do it. With no recipe. Maybe. Probably. Sure. Why not? Who am I?

I had made soups from scratch before, but I used a recipe. I had never made up a soup without step by step instructions and a prepared list of ingredients. Look at me now! Making soups like a boss!

Maybe not a top boss. Maybe a middle managerial boss. Some of the veg got a little too caramalized, but that was the only real downfall. They didn't have a burnt taste, but some of the veg wasn't photo-worthy. I really wanted to take a photo. When I had made gazpacho, the recipe I used said to put half of the veg chunks in the food processor (I sometimes will refer to this as a wazzer for future reference.) This added a thickness and creaminess without actually adding cream. Might as well try that. I wazzed up some of the caramalized veg and got out a couple new vegetables to prepare with a keener eye. I was able to get chowder that was both heartier in appearance and more satisfying to eat. It turned out to be a happy accident. The good flavor of the caramalized veg was there, but the unphotogenic dark spots were gone. The chowder was thicker without having to add more cream. Next time, I would leave out the cayenne pepper and try for a nicer color of broth. Brown isn't visually appealing for a soup, and all those cooking shows say, "We eat with our eyes first." This photo of the homemade chowder isn't going to make it into the Andy Warhol museum anytime soon, or ever, but if Andy was still alive and stopped by for lunch, I wouldn't be embarrased to serve it to him.

Recipe as listed 2 red spoons
Recipe inspired soup 3-4 red spoons

Cheese Soufflé

"A soufflé isn't a soufflé, it's a recipe." --Clara "Oswin" Oswald

I'm a fan of the long-running BBC series Doctor Who. When I was a child, I would watch it on Saturday nights on PBS. I longed to have my own mechanical dog, one just like K-9. (When I got a dog ten years ago, I gave her the middle name K-9. I hoped she would live up to the name and be a great protector and friend like K-9 was to the Doctor. PS She definitely lives up to it!)

Bindi K-9

I loved that big floppy hat Tom Baker wore and that long multi-colored scarf! I wanted to wear a sprig of celery on my lapel when Davison took over, and in more recent years, oh how I wanted a little red dress and lace up canvas shoes like Clara wore in Asylum of the Daleks. Clara aka Soufflé Girl. When we first met her, she was stranded on the planet the Daleks (evil space creatures) used as a prison/ward for other Daleks gone wrong. While stranded here, she passed the time making soufflés. In her banter with the Doctor she revealed she could never get a soufflé to turn out properly, even though she'd been trying for a year. For a whole year on a snowy, mountainous planet inhabited only by malfunctioning Daleks, she tried to make soufflés. This led the Doctor to wonder where did she get the eggs to make all these soufflés? Sadly, we ultimately discovered Clara "Oswin" Oswald was never making soufflés at all. It was her imagination. Her mind, commandeered by the Daleks, was trying to remain human and preserve hope by holding on to something dear. Her mother had said those words to her, "a soufflé isn't a soufflé, it's a recipe." For Clara, the soufflé was hope, rebellion, strength, and memory, and the recipe was her journey.

This blog and my endeavor to make these vintage recipes is part of my journey. Luckily, I haven't been overtaken by the most evil creatures in the universe. I'm not fighting for my humanity here, but I am discovering things about my human self. I'm discovering I can be a successful cook. I'm discovering I enjoy making new foods. I enjoy the simple pleasure of thumbing through those recipe cards, finding the one that sings out to me to try next. I like planning how I will make each one, and I like the hope of one day hitting the section called Crowd-Size Entertaining. I like having something to look forward to. I like feeling as though I've accomplished something, and I like having a sense of pride in something I made. Historically, I haven't been known as a good cook, so I WANT TO SAY THIS LOUDLY FOR ANYONE WHO THINKS THEY AREN'T A GOOD COOK: YOU ARE ARE GOOD COOK IN THE MAKING! If you haven't cooked much, yeah, your first recipes might fail from time to time. That doesn't mean you are a bad cook. That means you made a less than desirable meal on that occassion. Do not let your failures in food (or anything) define you. I wish I had realized this earlier in life. Another thing you "bad cooks" might consider: not everyone has the same taste preferences. If one person doesn't like something, it doesn't necessarily mean it is bad. It may just mean they didn't prefer it. Please also remember this: some people can be rude and ungrateful and their opinions should hold no weight on your worth-scale. Keep cooking, keep trying things that interest you, keep learning! Ok that's the end of the pep talk for both you and my past self. On to the soufflé.

Before the pandemic, a group of my friends and I, dubbed The Butter Group, would get together once a month for dinner. The name was derived from Julia Child's quotation: "If you're afraid of cream, use butter." This was another one of my embarkations to not only spend time with my friends, but to motivate myself to be a better cook. One year we did the dinners Iron Chef style where we would choose a theme ingredient and all make our dishes using that ingredient in some way. For example, once the ingredient was peaches, another time ginger ale. After a year, we moved out of Iron Chef mode and into themed dinners. We had an Irish dinner, a family recipes dinner, a tropical themed dinner, and a vintage dinner. For the vintage dinner, we each picked recipes from vintage cookbooks. I chose Amy Vanderbilt's cheese soufflé. I had never made one before and it was a success! I love it when a new recipe turns out well the first time! That was about five years ago, and despite the success of it, I hadn't made one since. When I came across Betty's recipe card for Cheese Soufflé For Four from the section Entertaining On A Shoestring, I remembered how nice that other soufflé had been and thought this was worth a go.

Betty Crocker Cheese Soufflé Take 1: I made one mistake and one poor decision which can account for my part of the less than showstopping results of the first attempt. Betty's poor instructions can account for another part. Let me break it down. My mistake: I put the cream of tarter in with the cheese mixture rather than in with the egg whites. I was hesitant to put more in once I realized I had made the mistake. My only prior experience with cream of tartar was in third grade when it was added to some mix of ingredients to make play-dough volcanos erupt. I didn't want my soufflé erupting like Kīlauea! Having now looked it up, cream of tartar helps stabilize whipped egg whites and acts as a leavening agent for baked goods. My guess is that 1/4 teaspoon extra wouldn't have really harmed anything.

My poor decision: the recipe card says to use a four cup soufflé dish or a one quart casserole dish. I had neither. I chose to use what is likely a 2 or 2.5 quart dish thinking it would rise anyway and the extra height would help contain the puffiness.

Other than that, I followed the recipe to the letter. Check out my beautiful mise en place!

The end result was ok. It didn't rise much, but it wasn't dense. It was flat like a quiche, but lighter and airier in texture. I used Tilamook Sharp Cheddar as my cheese because I find it stronger in flavor that other pre-packaged brands of similar cost. I stand by this choice because the flavor was not intensely cheesey, so to have used a milder cheese would have yielded blander results.

Fun side note here: I gave a piece to my friend Michael and he texted me later saying it was delicious and then just a text that said Suz Chef. I about lost my mind at the cleverness of this play on words. I had already titled and registered Recipe Redo for the blog, but, I hadn't really shared anything yet and there were only a handful of posts in the hopper, so to speak. I decided to run it by my friend and confidante Margie and run a Facebook poll. Suz Chef was the popular choice from the poll and Margie could find no objections, so I changed it. I suppose I am the executive chef now, though, not the sous chef! That's how this blog title was born. Thanks Michael!

I wasn't satisfied with soufflé one, though. I kept thinking back to the Amy Vanderbilt soufflé. I looked up "why my soufflé didn't rise" and the results suggested that either the cheese mixture hadn't been cooled enough when it was folded into the egg whites or that when they were encorporated, they were stirred too much. This is where Betty must be held to account. I also cross-referenced Amy's recipe, and Amy clearly instructs to not only remove the cheese mixture from the heat, but to set it aside for thirty minutes to cool. Betty says nothing about cooling for thirty minutes. It would also have been helpful to have a note saying DO NOT OVERMIX in big bold letters just like that. Betty does say to gently fold, which I did, but I would have folded less if told overmixing could result in poor rise.

Take 2: Followed Amy Vanderbilt's advice and let the cheese mixture cool for thirty minutes. Formed picture worthy stiff peaks with egg whites and added cream of tartar appropriately this time. Did not overmix. Also did a bains-marie this time as per Amy Vanderbilt.

photo of bains-marie

photos of stiff peaks and lemon-colored eggs


Also went out and bought the appropriately sized dish. Had to pick up other actual necessities, too, anyway. The right sized dish turned out to be as much a factor in success as anything else. Now I have a cute quart-sized baking dish and will need to find more recipes which will utilize it.

Look at the floof of this second attempt! So light and airy! Melt in your mouth soufflé achieved.

I imagine if these were handwritten recipe cards, I would have penciled in notes about cooling and not overmixing. There would be stains from where I got a little overzealous with the stirring and splattered some of it on the card. There might be a thumbprint cast in yolk. The recipe is the journey. So, if the soufflé isn't a soufflé, but a recipe, what makes a good recipe? What makes a good journey? Maybe it is the same.
1. an ingredients list
2. clear instructions are helpful in getting you where you want to be sooner, but trial and error/success can get you there, too.
3. the part that isn't printed - ambition, curiosity, playfulness, willingness, and like Clara, I've found that a good recipe involves keeping a place in your heart for what is dear and holding on to hope.

Rating:
As printed: 3 red spoons
With modifications: 5 red spoons!

Cheese Pepper Bread Made in a Coffee Can

Cheese Pepper Bread from the section Gifts From Your Kitchen, Card 21 of the Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library

The novelty of this recipe is that the bread is baked in coffee cans. For me, cooking in a can conjures images of a haggard guy riding the rails, carrying all his worldly possessions in a red bandana tied to the end of a long stick. Maybe at night he plays a harmonica while sitting around a campfire. Cooking out of a coffee can does not readily bring to mind images of comfort, table settings with cloth napkins, or telling the children to wash up before a Betty Crocker dinner.

Perhaps the clue for the why of this method can be found in the section heading. Gifts From Your Kitchen. Picture it: The holiday season rolls around and there just aren’t enough bread pans to efficiently bake for all the people on your gift list. This lingers in the back of your mind, festering like fetid meat. Sometime in late January, just as that can of Maxwell House is going into the garbage, an idea is sparked by caffeine and necessity! Save all these cans and come Christmas, boom, bread pans. Think of all the money saved from not having to buy more pans! The efficiency, the splendor, the joy! And so it began. UPDATE: I looked up the real reason. It seems to have started during the Great Depression. Since cans took up less horizontal space in the oven than a loaf pan, more loaves could be made at once, thus saving fuel.

It’s the year 2020 and I don’t remember the last time I saw a coffee can. Granted, I don’t drink much coffee, and when I do, I tend to buy a small bag of whole beans. And by a small bag of whole beans, I mean I go to Starbucks and buy a decaf latte. In my mind, I buy a bag and make coffee every morning, drinking it while sitting on the porch wrapped in a warm poncho, watching the sky turn from milky white to vibrant blue. Starbucks in the car is pretty good, too, though. My mom and dad drink coffee so my first thought was to hit them up for some cans. Then I remembered mom buys the supersized plastic containers of coffee. I sometimes have her save these for me because they make excellent compost containers for keeping by the sink. I asked on Facebook if coffee even still came in cans. Several people told me yes, and one of my friends actually buys a brand (Café Bustelo) which does. She’s an artist, so she repurposes the cans for paints and brushes and such. She told me she had a couple clean ones I could have. We planned a porch exchange because we couldn’t actually visit because of the spike in the number of Covid cases.

I’ve mentioned I watch cooking shows a lot now. The Great British Baking Show is one of my favorites. One of the contestants this year listens to his cakes. He says he learned that technique from a contestant on an earlier season. When you hear the cake bubbling away, it’s not yet done. Apparently, it’s the steam from the liquid ingredients being cooked out. If the cake is quiet, it’s likely overdone. The sweet spot is a soft sizzle. This bread recipe says 40 minutes in the oven or until golden brown. Before I could even get to the sonic part of baking, I smelled something foul. It was not exactly the smell of food being overcooked and burnt, but something was not right. It couldn’t possibly be the bread, I thought. Only ten minutes had elapsed. Turns out it was the smell of the cans heating up in a gas oven. I wondered if this was actually toxic and I didn’t get the memo. A lot has changed since the seventies, and until the nineties, I was a kid and didn’t pay a lot of attention to details such as if cooking in a can might be safe or not. The internet assured me it’s fine and the smell did dissipate, so onward and upward little bread loaves! At the forty minute mark, I could see the top and it looked golden. I listened to it, because that’s what the guy on the show did, and I heard bubbling. When the contestant first listened to his cake, I wondered if to a layperson such as myself it would be obvious. It was obvious, but I didn’t trust my newly acquired knowledge! That was a cake. This was bread. I should have trusted. The bread was dense. I could even see some doughiness around the edges once it was cut. Let me back up and talk about getting it out of the can, though. The modern cans I used were made with an inner lip near the top. I suspect cans of yesteryear did not have this. The bottom of the second can had to be opened with a can opener. Otherwise, the fate of the second loaf would have been the same as the first loaf, which was for the most part a squashed crumbly mess. The show loaf, as I’ll call it, maintained some of the telltale ridges of the coffee can. The taste of pepper was there even though the recipe only calls for ¼ tspn. There was a little tang from the sour cream, and with butter, it wasn’t too bad in taste. (I did stick all of the bread back into the oven wrapped in foil for a few more minutes and it helped somewhat.)

I wish this had been more successful. I wish it had been a showstopper. I wanted to give all of my friends and neighbors this Gift From My Kitchen for the holidays.

I think this recipe would be worth another shot, but in a bread pan. I’m not a convert to the coffee can method, and unlike the cooks of decades past, I don’t have a surplus of coffee cans, anyway. Really, I just have the one remaining can my friend gave me, and I don’t think Starbucks cups will hold up as well in the oven.

Rating: 3 Red Spoons

Winter Salad Variety

Under the category of Seasonal Favorites in the Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library box, card number one is entitled Winter Salad Variety. This seemed like an easy enough place to start, and I had most of the ingredients already. This would be my first Betty Crocker endeavor, and true to self, I began overthinking. I started my overthinking by taking a photo of the picture side of the card with my phone. I could then review the picture and plan out what I needed to get, even if the card itself was not handy. I studied the photo here and there over the course of a few days.

There were a few mysteries, however. For example, those off-white things in the bottom right corner. Water chestnuts? Cheese? Potatoes? And what is that thing in the middle upon which sits the cherry tomato? From the picture I discerned that this white mass rested atop the bottom on an onion, but what was the mass? The mystery mass of a focal point had slices removed from it, and in the gaps, slices of cucumber had been inserted. I had a turnip and turnips are white, so I was going to use a turnip regardless of what it turned out the recipe card said it was. (After the salad was made, I showed the picture to my neighbor and she said it was a mozzarella ball. At first, I thought she might be right, but the cuts seem too clean to be cheese. Doesn’t cheese often have rough edges when sliced?)

I’d reached the point where I needed to get on with making the salad instead of thinking about making the salad. So, I retrieved the actual card and looked at the instructions to see what those mystery ingredients were. Only, on the back, there are several recipes listed. Winter Salad Variety didn’t mean variety within the salad. It meant a variety of different salads.

AND NOT ONE OF THEM WILL PRODUCE A SALAD WHICH WILL LOOK LIKE THE PICTURE!

There is no mention of a meat product in any of the suggestions! There is no mention of hard boiled eggs anywhere! None of the listed ingredients and preparation of said ingredients will result in a cucumber/root veg/mozzarella ball/potato centerpiece! There is no mention of water chestnuts or cheese chunks or potato cubes!

Since the instructions and ingredient list resulted in no help whatsoever, I made some choices and some purchases and began.

I substituted beets for what looked to be strips of beef or pork. Beets, I thought, had a red color which would look vibrant on the platter. While not a beet lover, I had eaten roasted beets in fancy salads at restaurants. Ah, restaurant dining. How I do miss thee. I sliced the beets into strips, and the vibrant pink of beet juice promised to stain everything, so I quickly wiped down the counters and the cutting board. So much beautiful color! Yet, the vegetable itself did not look bright at all, despite the huge mess it was making. Maybe it would brighten in the oven. When I took them out, they were still dull with added shriveled-ness. I don’t know if it was the variety of beet I used, but I was slightly disappointed. Later, in the final stages of assembly, I would add radishes for a bit of red color. The beets tasted fine, though. I simply tossed them in avocado oil, salt and pepper and roasted them in the oven.

I had onions in the cupboard, but I was not putting copious amounts of raw white onions on a salad. There are three times that I remember enjoying raw onions. In fresh salsas, in the dirty martini salad I served at a dinner party, and in a mango avocado salad I took to a potluck. The two salad recipes called for raw onions, which I did add, though much more sparingly than the recipe called for, and I did find they enhanced the dish. I like to try a recipe almost exactly as is when I’m making it for the first time. I’m going out on a fairly unsteady limb with this new Betty Crocker endeavor. A firm no to the onions on this salad. Instead of onions, cauliflower. Both white. Totally fine.

(check out the recipe for the dirty martini salad and mango avocado salad here, if interested:
www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/spectacular-dirty-martini-salad/ and
www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/sunny-anderson/mango-and-avocado-salad-recipe-1941508)

I’m also not a big fan of hard-boiled eggs in a salad. Like with onions, I feel the taste is overpowering. I had Babybel cheese, and it turns out if you cut a Babybel round in half and top with a small amount of pineapple, it looks enough like an egg. It doesn’t taste anything like egg, of course, but the cheese does yield a similar texture and the pineapple adds a nice brightness.
Tomatoes and green beans, check and check.

I didn’t set out to make a carrot rose, but there were spirals of carrot haphazardly placed in Betty’s photo, and by the time I got the hang of it, I had a lot of carrot shavings. I just started putting together the peelings and before long a carrot rose bloomed before my eyes.

I decided to use pears for the mystery off-white blobs in the bottom right of the recipe card. I like fruit in salad from time to time. It feels special. It feels restaurant quality. It feels like rebellion on a plate. Strawberries may have been the first fruit I ever had on a salad. I would guess this happened in the nineties with the Strawberry Fields Salad from TGIFridays. My brain has decided to keep space for the name of a salad from a restaurant chain I ate at in college. Cheers. I did attempt the cucumber turnip amalgamation, but my knife skills and spatial relations were on vacation that day, so I did a floret looking centerpiece instead. All in all, not a bad endeavor. It looked pleasing and was delicious.

A few years back, my mother gave me the steak knives we used when I was growing up. They have dark wooden handles like the serving utensils shown in Betty's picture, so they came in handy for my photo. Bonus points awarded for being authentic to the era. I even oiled them so they would look richer in color.

To conclude: I felt a little duped, although lesson learned: read the actual recipe before hatching a plan based on just the photo. I’m not sure what makes some of the actual suggestions seasonally appropriate to winter, either. Several call for tomatoes, which I think of as a summer food. Same with pineapple, peas and zucchini.

Here are a few from the subcategory of “Serve on crisp greens; top with your favorite dressing.”

•mound of cottage cheese with diced green or red pepper, cucumber and onions
•chilled tomato halves; sprinkle with snipped parsley, chives, mint or sliced green onion
•shredded carrot, chopped sweet onion, chopped celery, grated orange peel and orange section

There are two listed under “Toss with greens and serve in lettuce cups.”

•sliced zucchini and cauliflowerets or thinly sliced radishes
•shredded parsnips, chopped sweet onion, chopped celery and pimiento-stuffed olives

And there are also suggestions for “Marinate and serve in lettuce cups.”

•cooked green peas and cooked French-style green beans, chopped green pepper, onion and celery; marinate in oil and vinegar dressing overnight.

The idea of a marinated salad or even serving a salad in a lettuce cup intrigues me. Maybe a follow-up trial down the road is in order.

In the end, I didn’t really need a recipe for making a salad. It’s one thing I know I can do successfully. If I’m serving a salad at a dinner party, I will pre-toss most of the ingredients, perhaps leaving the tomatoes on top as a garnish. Though initially skeptical of a salad served as components as shown in the Betty Crocker picture, a case could be made that people would be able to customize their own salad when everything is separated.
My ratings will be on a scale of 1-5 Red Spoons, 1 being the lowest and 5 the very best.

(Screen shot of iconic Betty Crocker red spoon logo taken from General Mills Blog. For full article check out the link below.)
https://blog.generalmills.com/2016/05/the-red-spoon-that-changed-betty-crocker/

I rate Winter Salad Variety: 4 Red Spoons (Photo not indicative of actual recipe, but deemed a success, nonetheless.)

How It Began

Ages ago, aka, earlier this year, I was in an antique store in Indiana. Most of the shops on this street were quaint houses, converted to shops. This street was probably the main thoroughfare at one time, but now, it's more prone to foot traffic on weekend afternoons. This particular antique shop was going out of business, not only on that day, but within that half-hour I was there. I'd only gone in to pass the time. I didn’t really NEED anything. However, there were deals to be had and maybe I could find my sister a Christmas present. She appreciates the antique aesthetic. I looked at jewelry and artwork and knick-knacks and dishware. Nothing in the main room on floor one sang out to me, for either myself or my sister. Then it was on to the hallway to access the stairs to the upper level. And, lo, there it was, on a side table in the crowded hallway-- a square box of sunshine, its yellow color like a canary flying straight out of the crayon box. This vibrant yellow color was once so popular you’d have thought the 1970’s invented it. With its hinged lid open revealing a series of commercially printed recipe cards, this Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library sang out. It was organized into categories such as Seasonal Favorites, Gifts from the Kitchen, Fondues, Budget Casseroles, and, friends, I kid you not…Men’s Favorites. (No, there was not a Women’s Favorites! It was the first thing I looked for after seeing Men’s Favorites!) I laughed and held gratitude for how things have changed. Out of curiosity, I looked at the price tag. With the discount it would be somewhere between $5-$7. I have a ton of cookbooks, though, and I wouldn’t say I was known to be a cook. (This is a post for another time, as this whole post is already a tangent of epic proportions.) That price was a great deal, but my inner Marie Kondo said to leave it in on the table and go browse upstairs. I was supposed to be looking for a gift for my sister, remember? As I perused the books and dishware and artwork on the upper level, I kept thinking about that yellow box in the hallway. The recipe cards within showed slight wear, so I began imagining the household it came from, the weeknight budget casseroles and the showy Sunday dinners. I started thinking about the photos on the recipe cards, the telltale limited color reproduction giving the images not quite true to life hues. I started thinking about my mother's cookbooks. She had a spiral notebook with handwritten recipes and newspaper clippings. She also had The Joy of Cooking and one by Betty Crocker, hardbound with a red cover. I started thinking about the kitchen of my childhood home, with the wooden bread box next to the yellow stove, the orange and brown floral and swirl lineoleum floor my parents only recently replaced. There was now no doubt of the pull that yellow box had on me. I tried to talk myself out of it one more time, to no avail. It was already mine in spirit, and a few dollars later, it was actually mine to take home.

I organized every single card according to category and number within each category. I tracked how many were missing (only a couple!) and how many of the recipes I might actually attempt. It didn’t matter, though. I purchased this for the novelty of it. I purchased this knowing I would need to get rid of at least two – three cookbooks to make room for it. I purchased this knowing I had no real use for recipes from the 70s with their Hamburger Helper and gender stereotypes.

Fast forward: November rolls along and the pandemic rages on. I’m struggling emotionally. I make myself put on clothes I didn’t sleep in as part of my mental health routine, even though there is no real need to do so, otherwise. I work from home exclusively now. I can no longer responsibly go to stores just to browse and be caught up in a whirlwind of nostalgia. I can't go inside my friends house to drink wine. I can’t watch most movies and tv shows because they all trigger me in some way. Except cooking shows. Cooking shows I can watch. My favorite is the Great British Baking Show. I like the baking, but I also very much enjoy the antics of Noel Fielding and Matt Lucas. Other shows I frequent are Triple G and Triple D (both of which, historically, I didn’t favor, but now can’t get enough of), Iron Chef (any iteration of Iron Chef will do, but bonus if it’s an original Japanese episode), and Beat Bobby Flay. I’ve also stumbled on a newbie (new to me, anyway) Molly Yeh, and she is basically the most delightful person, and I want to be friends with her.

I found some inspiration and motivation in these shows, made a make-shift photo studio in the butler’s pantry, and started taking pictures of the food I was making.
I started with cupcakes from a mix which had been in the pantry for months. I experimented with it by swapping tea for water and butter for oil. It was something I had seen on Pinterest. The commercial icing had a hole in the foil and was thus inedible, so I had to make an icing from scratch. Only, the powdered sugar was rancid making my first batch of scratch icing also inedible. I had to make one which called for granulated sugar and flour. It was not horrible. It was not something I would repeat, but it was not horrible. I piped it on to the cakes with some piping tips and bags I bought years ago and topped them with a cherry. The cuppies looked cute.

I made jazzed up ramen with enoki mushrooms, arugula, and a soft boiled egg.

I made French Onion soup inspired by an episode of Beat Bobby Flay in which the challenger did BEAT BOBBY FLAY.

I made a plate of Snoopy’s Thanksgiving meal.

While photographing these foods in my make-shift studio, there behind me stood the cookbooks. One day, Betty in her yellow box called out. I answered, "Hey there, Betty. What’s going on?" We shared some small talk and remembered that day she came home with me. Then she suggested I should make all the recipes in that yellow box (most of the recipes) reminiscent of Julie and Julia. Suz and Betty. Only I should make them my way, vegetarian. And start a blog about it.

Who am I to argue with the ghost of Betty Crocker who lives in a yellow recipe box in my house?
Not to be neglected, Amy Vanderbilt politely chimed in from her spot on the shelf. Years ago, she, too, came home with me from an antique store. (I like vintage cookbooks; this has been established.) The Amy Vanderbilt cookbook has illustrations by Andrew Warhol !ANDY WARHOL! and now you know why I had to have it. (side note: I did make a soufflé and vichyssoise from that book shortly after purchasing it. Both were good.)

So that’s the beginning of this journey, and, yes, I still need to get my sister a gift for the holidays.

Next up: Winter Salad Variety via Betty Crocker.