Going for the 'wow' factor

Every week our office has break on Wed. morning and we take turns bringing in food for it. Healthy choices are not required...so when it was my turn this week I set off to thinking about what was something new that I hadn't made before that would have a good "wow" factor (always a must providing office break). I remembered how in high school when I would go over to one of my best friend's house, they would always have Twinkie Cake (it wasn't fair...she was still skinny!). It's like Whoopie Pies, but much better. So, I was thinking, how hard could they be?

I went online to search for Twinkie Cake recipes and found one that seemed like it would yield the results I was looking for. The recipe is basically to make a chocolate cake, cut it in half and add filling, then put the top back on. The only problem was that the recipe called for a chocolate pudding mix, which I didn't have. So, trying to be resourceful, I turned to my home congregation's cookbook that they just compiled last year, "Mennonite Heritage Recipe Collection," from East Union Mennonite in Kalona, Iowa. It had a recipe for Chocolate Pudding Cake which sounded like my solution to the problem (the recipe didn't actually ask for a pudding mix). As I made the cake, my friend Patty made the internet-suggested filling. Both ended up to be quite baffling experiences and let's just say I didn't end up taking Twinkie Cake to break.

About the cake...to begin with the portions seemed a bit small and under further investigation I realized that the pan I was wanting to use was a 3-quart and the recipe called for a 1-quart. Thankfully my math skills still mostly work (the recipe below is already tripled for all you who aren't so math proficient). Then the batter seemed to be such a small quantity and you pour several cups of sugared, chocolate water over the batter, which also seemed like something wasn't quite right. But, in the heat of the oven, the batter rose, overtook the watery mess, and made quite a lovely cake...except that (like the name of the recipe suggests) there was quite a pile of gooey chocolate pudding ont the bottom -- which just won't do for making Twinkie Cake. Strike one.

About the filling...the recipe called for "cooking" a mixture of water, sugar and flour together. Patty and I decided that a microwave would do, since the directions weren't more specific. It also called to cool that down before adding the several versions of fat (crisco and margarine I believe). Somewhere between the two of those directions not working so well...the concoction we made didn't quite measure up to the needed standard. It tasted like crisco with a little sugar, and was gloppy with the oils separated enough that it kind of looked like curdled milk. Strike two.

So, without a lovely chocolate cake that would nicely slice in half, and without good filling to put in between...our department break consisted of solely Chocolate Pudding Cake. Not quite the big "wow" factor I was hoping for.

What's up with the desire to have others think we are great cooks and make fantastic food? Imagine though if the only place you received praise was in your cooking and your quilting? Or if those were the only arenas available to receive praise, but you weren't a success at those compared to your peers? I have to say that I am so thankful that my self-worth is based on a whole lot more...though a good Twinkie Cake sure would have been nice.


Chocolate Pudding Cake
1 1/2 c. flour
3/4 c. sugar
3 T. unsweetened cocoa powder
2 1/4 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
3/4 c. milk
6 T. cooking oil
3 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 c. sugar
6 T. unsweetened cocoa powder
2 1/4 c. boiling water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix flour, 3/4 c. sugar, 3 T. cocoa powder, baking powder and salt in medium mixing bowl. Add milk, oil and vanilla, stir until smooth. Pour batter into ungreased 3-quart casserole dish. Mix 1 1/2 c. sugar and 6 T. cocoa powder in small mixing bowl. Gradually stir in boiling water. Pour evenly over batter in casserole. Bake about 30 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean. Cool 20-30 min.

I've HAD it with Meat & Potatoes

When I approached my sister-in-law with the idea that we do a meal together with recipes from MCC:FFR, her response was, "That would be GREAT! You know, I never really learned how to cook meat and pototoes recipes - like potroast." She is a northern Arizona girl, the daughter of a restaurant manager, and her cooking skills are phenomenal. So it just goes to show that not many food connoisseurs are into old-fashioned cooking anymore. Thankfully, I'm not the only one.

I decided to run a trial test of my theory that MCC recipes are meant to be eaten together (see What Exactly Is Hash, Feb. 28). While most of the foods from MCC are not something I would crave, or even seek out, they are also not foods that are difficult to palate once made. Mostly they are just boring. I looked over my list of potential recipes and picked out Pigs in the Blanket, pg. 65, along with Potato Salad, pg. 182, for dinner.

One for two isn't that bad. The Potato Salad was yummy - although Joe and I have been spoiled by my Aunt Rachel's salad, and he says "we can never go back." While it was good, it probably won't be something I fix again. It was a lot of chopping and generally labor-intensive.

The Pigs in Blanket were sadly bland and bready. I fixed the Bisquit recipe on pg. 12 for the "blanket," mixed the ground beef for the "pig" filling, and then attempted and failed to make nice little pockets out of my obstinate bisquit dough. I thought they were supposed to wrap neatly around the blobs of meat, forming little rectangular meat pockets. But the dough refused to seal shut around the meat, which was too greasy, and even the small portions I could fit in the dough wouldn't cooperate (I ended up having half the meat leftover). Then I put it in the oven for the 40 minutes that Mary Emma recommends. Peaking in at them 20 minutes later, they were already a golden brown and starting to burn on the bottom. Out they came. They taste alright with lots and lots of ketchup, but otherwise they were like eating crumbling over-baked bisquits with a small bite full of meat in the middle. After eating two of them, Joe stated that he wants to go on record as saying, "I think the Mennonite Community Cookbook should be subtitled A Collection of Bland Recipes." Sometimes he's too harsh of a food critic, but in this case I have to say I agree with him.

No More Sweets

The hubbie has given up sweets for Lent, and thus my cooking repetoire from MCC has been cut in half for the next 40 days. Initially, I was concerned this might be a problem, but upon further examination of its pages I've found plenty of recipes to keep me busy aplenty until Easter.

Before the commencement of Lent, however, I decided one last sweet treat was in order, and decided to make Chocolate Drop Cookies, pg. 252. We also have some neighbors moving in to the house just east of ours, so I planned on sharing a plate of cookies with them as a housewarming treat (this also seemed to fit in well with the themes of Mennonite hospitality, and waste not want not).

I discovered a container of shortening in our pantry (who knew?!) and decided to follow the recipe exactly, although I too resonate with the sentiment expressed in an earlier entry by CPG, "Who uses shortening anymore?" Well, I guess I do, now. The cookies were a bit blah for my taste - not very chocolatey, with only the chopped nuts to add a bit of interest. But the texture reminded me of my grandma's cookies, and I think it might just be the shortening. They were a little lighter and fluffier than other cookies I've made.

Joe and I took them over on Sunday and introduced ourselves and Sadie, who was jumping up and down in puppy glee. At first I was concerned that the cookies just weren't impressive enough to give away. They were nothing special. But frankly, cooking from this book has been an overall humbling experience for me. It is not cooking to impress, not buying the best ingredients, not creating some exotic mind-baffling taste sensation. Rather it's cooking with what you have and making that good enough. So in the spirit of being Mennonite, I gave them a plate of cookies, and put the rest of them in the freezer until after Easter.

Una menonita living la vida loca...sorta

For the last week-plus, I have been dining on arroz y habichuelas, platanos, pastillos and flan on the island of Vieques in Puerto Rico more than any food that Mary Emma would recommend...alas my absence from here. Before that, I have no excuses. No, we weren't doing anything noble or altruistic like most good Mennos do when they travel the world...just plain old vacation in the sun and on the beach with sweet drinks in hand.

But, I did think of my frugal, Menno grandma quite often. Her favorite thing to say (which I learned when she came with us on vacation to California when I was in jr. high and we ordered a $5 piece of cheesecake for dessert) is, "well, that ain't nothin' special." When you are a tourist in a tourist world with tourist prices, that phrase sure can come to mind regularly -- like when you have to pay a taxi $12 to take you a mile and a half to your hotel because you don't know any other way to get there from the airport or when you were looking for a cheap, authentic, local-type place to eat dinner and go to "Chez Shack" thinking that the name suggests such a place, but are badly mistaken.

A couple of weeks ago I actually made something out of "MCC:FFR," (as it has been wisely shortened to by my fellow cooks/writers) but then was too lazy to write about it, partly because I was rather disappointed - again - with my results. I found the recipe for Popovers (p. 21) and thoughts of a heavenly pastry creation filled my mind. What came out of the oven was little more than round, hard blops of baked dough. Ok, so they were more like smooth biscuits with a hard outside and a soft inside. But there was nothing airy, light or popover-esque about them. And they were quite bland. Was it me? Probably. I found a recipe for Popovers in the new Better Homes and Gardens cookbook (that nicely includes photos for those of us chefs who need them) that has a very similar recipe (did they borrow and adapt from MCC:FFR???). Their picture shows what I was hoping would come out of my oven -- something that you have to pierce to let the steam escape from because it has risen so much. I don't know what the problem was...could have been because I didn't "sift" the flour like I was told to, or maybe it is our oven that doesn't seem to really know what temperature it is inside. The recipe calls for them to be baked at 450 degrees for 20 minutes, then reduce the heat for another 20. My little rocks didn't even make it to the second round before they were already hard and done...without rising at all. But, Ben -- ever a quite frugal Menno - didn't want to throw the creations out too quickly, like I was ready to do. He seemed to think they were alright with a little jelly.

Behold the Jello Mold

Feeling brave and with an hour to kill, I wandered into my parent's house in search of the elusive jello mold. Joe had deterred me enough that I was reluctant to buy one, but I knew my mother, like any good Mennonite woman, would have one stashed away in her cupboard somewhere. I found it lurking on the top shelf along with some antique American china akin to that pictured in the pages of MCC:FFR. It beckoned me with it's silent siren's call, "Come closer, feel my green tubberware sides, succomb to your secret desire to fill me with jello and little floaty food particles that under natural circumstances would never dream of intermingling."

Where had this unspoken longing come from? I don't know, but I'm guessing that it has something to do with winter in the Midwest. The unnaturally bright shades of jello must have been the equivalent to the tanning bed for generations of Mennonite farm women. Is it any coincidence that the name of my dish is "Golden Glow Salad"? Or perhaps the frugality of throwing an odd assortment of leftovers in a mix of gelatin and calling it a "salad" is just too tempting to resist. Either way, I have to admit that the idea of a jello mold certainly held a bit of lustre for me.

Unabashed by my husband's frank dismissal of the jello salad, I thumbed through the pages of MCC for some ideas, trying to avoid ones that, frankly, sounded appalling (for instance, Cardinal Salad, pg. 191, which contains lemon gelatin, beet juice, vinegar, horseradish, onions, beets, and celery). I finallly settled on Golden Glow Salad, pg. 193-194, partly because it used orange gelatin, and partly because it included a recipe for a dressing to be served with it, a concept which was entirely foreign to me.

With just a small amount of fear and trepidation, I went about making preparations for the jello salad. I began by mixing the boiling water with the gelatin and added pineapple juice. While I waited for this mixture to “chill until slightly thickened” (a process that took longer than I anticipated – about an hour), I grated the carrots and the orange rind and mixed them together with the fruit. Then I poured the whole mixture into the jello mold and let it set overnight. I fixed the dressing the next day before dinner, substituting evaporated milk for whipped cream, since we didn’t have any of the latter.

We enjoyed Golden Glow Salad with our dinner of Apricot Chicken and Rice Pilaf. Well, enjoyed might be a slight exaggeration. Joe tolerated it and I was mostly ambivalent – although surprisingly taken with the dressing, which was creamy and not too sweet. A good complement to the salad which was tongue-curlingly tart. Overall, it was a successful cooking endeavor, although not one I’ll soon repeat.