Scones at Stardust

I’ve made scones for Stardust a couple times now during my Saturday baking stints.  I’ve made them with blueberries, but this weekend I’m looking to switch it up a bit by using raspberries instead.  Since they’re easy to make and don’t require a lot of ingredients, I can usually get these in the oven within my first hour at the ‘Dust.

The recipe I use is, no surprise, based on one for Cranberry Scones on MarthaStewart.com.  I had originally used cranberries when they were freshly sold in stores last November and December, when the recipe came out in an Everyday Food publication.  Everyday Food is probably my favourite pick from the ominous-sounding Martha Stewart Omnimedia, due to its small, compact size and “normal-people-friendly” recipes.  Good stuff for budding home cooks and bakers, with convenient time estimates to give you an idea of how long it takes to prep and cook the food.

With regards to making the scones, I don’t use a floured surface to work on the dough, as it calls for in the recipe.  I find that working with the dough on a flat surface covered with parchment paper seems to work just fine, rather than using more flour.  Also, the original recipe calls for half-and-half, which I use at Stardust, but when making the scones at home, I use what I normally have on hand: almond milk.  Since I don’t drink milk and only have a cup of coffee maybe once a week, I don’t have whole milk or half-and-half in my fridge.  Almond milk seems to be a fine substitute.

Anyway, feel free to experiment with your own scone making, or come over to Stardust to sample one of mine.  I’ll be there this Saturday, but starting next week, I may be working Sundays at the ‘Dust because of overtime at the Library.  Scones are best eaten the day they’re made, although the day after normally sees them in an okay state, just a bit more moist than before.

Stardust’s Saturday baker

Attention stalkers!  As of yesterday, I have been installed as Stardust’s Saturday baker, and my first day and my new little gig was good fun.  I made a batch of whole wheat buttermilk biscuits, a vegan cinnamon-raspberry cake and a “bothersome” molasses cake with “tiresome” tangy vanilla frosting.  The last piece was a debacle, because parts of the cake stuck to the tip of the Bundt pan, and to salvage the damn thing, I decided to use some frosting to cover up the mistake.  Well, the kitchen by this point was rather warm, especially with the wonderful addition of Tony (who literally jumped up and down and screamed “Yaaaaay!” upon seeing me in the back), one of Stardust’s cadre of cooks.  The kitchen was so warm, with the oven being on, the icing kept melting off of the damn cake.  I had to stick the cake *and* the icing in the beer fridge up front to keep it solidified.

So what was supposed to be an 8 am ’til 12 noon shift turned into me staying until 2 pm, with Tony and Casey, the regular baker who was working the front, battling with my inner Martha, who was going, “It’s not PERFECT!  AAAH!!”

The cake’s fuck-ups did enable me to kind of lose my mind in the kitchen, much to Tony’s amusement, and perhaps encouragement.  When I was making the frosting for the cake in a bowl, I looked down at the creamy-sweet goodness and remarked to him how I wanted to stick my face in the frosting.  “Do it,” he said, “and run around the building yelling ‘FROSTING FAAACE!’”

So, of course, we kept screaming “FROSTING FAAACE!” in the kitchen for the next two hours or so I was there.

As you can see, despite that damn debacle of a cake (that looked to have sold well later that night), I had good fun.  I’m excited to go back next Saturday.  I’m planning on scones and cupcakes this time around.  In the meantime, I hope to make some things at my new place in order to get in a bit of practice time, and to try some new recipes out.

By the way, Tony has dubbed me as the Butter Assassin, and from here on out, I’m going to use and abuse that new moniker as much as possible.  So, next Saturday, come over to Stardust from 8 am until noon (hopefully not longer… again), where you can see me puttering about in the mushroom apron my friend Melanie bought for me as a Christmas gift one year.  All the recipes I used were based on my well-worn copy of Abigail Johnson Dodge’s book, The Weeekend Baker, which is a rather apt title considering my new job–providing I can keep it.

FROSTING FAAAACE!!

Hamburger America: the book AND dvd!

I pestered my local library to start carrying Hamburger America, the book, and they got a copy, which I have now checked out. When I took a look at the cover, there’s a sticker the library put on that says “1 disc included.” Do you know what that disc was?

That’s right, Hamburger America, the movie!

So, you realise I have to share the film with as many people as possible, yeah? I’ve already made my parents watch it, and I thought my father was going to have a heart attack merely watching Solly’s butterburgers being made. “Oh my God, that’s BUTTER?!” he freaks while watching a woman slab on a hefty dollop of butter onto a bun before mushing it down onto a burger.

Potential food rule: Butter makes everything better. This rule may have to be tested out on a butterburger of my own with a veggie patty. Yes, I’m game enough, but I don’t know if I’d want quite as much butter as Solly’s Grille tops theirs with. Seriously, the camera zooms in on these burgers, and you can see the golden liquid dripping on the sides! The film even shows a patron sopping up some of the butter with half of his burger. It should also be mentioned Solly’s Grille is right across the street from a medical center treating heart diseases. Surprisingly, though, the owner of Solly’s Grille mentions two men in their 90s who’d been coming to Solly’s Grill for decades, and seem to be doing just fine.

Potential food theory: Butter makes you live longer.

I can imagine cardiologists cringing at the thought of a butterburger, but I’ll bet a few of those people that work at the nearby heart care center make dashes across the street to get their butterburger fixes.

Eventually, I’ll have to break down and buy this book, so I can have the book and dvd on hand for future reference and edification, as well as to share it with people who aren’t yet my friends, but someday will be (aw!). Yesterday I began reading the book, and currently I’m in the Louisiana section, where Port of Call in New Orleans is listed. There is only one place listed in Florida, Le Tub of Hollywood. In America, it seems the best states for burgers, according to George Motz, are California (9 entries), Oklahoma (7 entries), Ohio (6 entries), Connecticut (5 entries) and Texas (8 entries).

If you want to know more about Hamburger America or George Motz, the brainchild behind the projects, go to the website: HamburgerAmerica.com. Motz has a blog where you can catch up on what’s current–at the moment, the most recent entry is on the book tour he’s doing. If you live in Orange County in Florida, you’ll be happy to know that the Orange County Library System has two copies of Hamburger America, both of which are currently checked out–one by yours truly. Don’t worry, I’ll be returning mine shortly once I’ve finished reading it and have made a few of my friends watch the dvd. If you can’t wait, though, you can buy it online through Shop OCLS, with Amazon.com, or get a used copy with Abebooks.

Organic Options for Orlando

Those of us in Orlando are generally familiar with the organic options in the Publix Greenwise section and at Whole Foods, though some of us may not know of two other ways to get organic produce in this little city.

I’ve been a customer of Orlando Organics off and on, and on the whole, I’m pretty satisfied with their service.  Providing that you live in their vast delivery area, you can get organic produce delivered to your door weekly or every other week, depending on how you have your account set up.  Some leafy produce, like spinach, may not come in its own bag, so be aware that you may need to provide your own resealable bags for some goods you may want to have separated in your crisper drawer.  The service is good if you don’t mind surprises (you can compose a list of produce you absolutely don’t want), and it saves you the trouble of going to the store for some basic ingredients like carrots, onions, potatoes, etc.  You can also order extra produce should you want a bit more, say, apples or oranges once you find out what the delivery will be around Sunday evening or so.

My first account with Orlando Organics enabled me to eat parsnips for the first time.  It was awesome.

If you prefer to only get exactly what you want or need, then perhaps Homegrown, from the Florida School of Holistic Living, is more to your tastes.  It’s a food co-op that you can join and order food from, but instead of home delivery, you pick up the food on Thursdays from 2-7 pm in the downtown area.  This would suit people who live and/or work downtown a bit better, since I don’t see too many people living in Sanford making the trek for the time being.  However, if it is convenient for you, this week’s listing features many locally-grown veggies, herbs and fruits, including tasty daikon!  An individual membership is $35, and there is a requirement to work with the co-op a minimum of three times a year, which really doesn’t sound like much.

If there are more organic options in terms of products and produce in Orlando, I’d love to hear about them.  For now, I’m waiting to resume my Orlando Organics deliveries in the beginning of June–I don’t have time to cook at the moment with my current commute.

The Language of Baklava

I finished Diana Abu-Jaber’s memoir The Language of Baklava, which I checked out from the library, and I may have to get a copy of this book. It’s a wonderfully written memoir filled with memories and food recipes, much of which hailing from Abu-Jaber’s Jordanian heritage from her father’s side, but some others that are pulled from other places.

Much like Kim Sunée’s Trail of Crumbs, which is another memoir mixed with recipes, Diana Abu-Jaber’s recollections place a major focal point on the food, which is sensuously described. The recipes seem more attainable, and there are a few that are vegetarian-friendly. The people Abu-Jaber describes, especially her father, are shown lovingly, and I’m particularly fond of her Auntie Aya, the only daughter among many sons. The appearances she makes in Abu-Jaber’s book are memorable–especially the conversation she has while making sweets with a teenage Diana on page 186 that I’ve included in my favourite quotes on my Goodreads profile:

“Marry, don’t marry,” Auntie Aya says as we unfold layers of dough to make an apple strudel. ‘Just don’t have your babies unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“How do I know if it’s necessary?”

She stops and stares ahead, her hands gloved in flour. “Ask yourself, Do I want a baby or do I want to make a cake? The answer will come to you like bells ringing.” She flickers her fingers in the air by her ear. “For me, almost always, the answer was cake.”

Seriously, best reasoning ever.

Being a child of mixed-heritage, I can relate to some of the emotions Abu-Jaber describes with her dad, Bud, and the friction that happens when two cultures and age groups collide, especially during the teen years.  Like Bud, my mother (and father) didn’t want me dating boys, so I used to sneak hanging out with some of them, but lucky for me, I didn’t get into too much trouble.  Well, depending on your point of view.  (To my parents reading: I turned out okay, didn’t I?  All right then.)

It can be hard to pass along culture and language to your children when they’re growing up in an environment different from the one you were raised with, but the easiest conduit of culture is, and always has been, food.  My knowledge of the Filipino dialects is nonexistent, but I can make sweet rice and fried rice, and would love to eventually attempt a vegetarian version of Philippine adobo (it exists!).  I remember the food heritage from my mother and my Philippine aunties, as well as the southern foods made by my father’s family.  Thanksgiving when I was younger would feature fried rice with bacon alongside a slab of ham covered with pineapples, coleslaw, pansit and deviled eggs.

Seeing Abu-Jaber’s version of growing up pulled between two cultures, in addition to her unique personality (very likable) and lovely writing, really makes this book a fantastic read, especially for people who love food and love reconciling culture clashes on the dinner table.

If this sounds like a book you may be keen on, you can read an excerpt and even order a signed copy on the official website for the book and Diana Abu-Jaber by going here. If you live in Orange County, you can borrow a copy of the book from the library, too.

Crépes at the Food Court?

In my post about Bangkok’s Crépes & Co, I mentioned that there was a place for crépes at the food court in the Fashion Square Mall. Well, yesterday Hao and I went to La Creperia Café for a late breakfast.

I hadn’t been to the Fashion Square Mall in at least half a year, so it was interesting alone to be at there. We went up to the second level, where the food court and movie theatre was, and we scanned the food court shops for La Creperia. Hao spotted it, and, upon seeing the sign unlit and the menus lacking the hyper-illumination of most food court menus, I was dismayed. “Aw, it’s closed!”

“No, it isn’t,” Hao walked briskly towards the stand. “Look, there’s someone behind the counter.”

Sure enough, the place was open after all, but the design for the store seemed a bit out-of-step with the florescent glow all the other stalls were emitting. If it were a regular stand-alone café, though, it would be fine. We approach the stall, hunger mingled with excitement of new possibilities. I seize a menu lying on the counter, and my eyes widen with crépe possibilities.

In the end, Hao and I both opted for sweet crépes. I bullied him out of getting the Romeo y Julieta crépe with Nutella, bananas and strawberries, because that’s what I wanted, so he opted for the Evita, which consisted of dolci di lecce (or dolce de leche) and bananas. The two gentleman behind the counter, who were very helpful, made the crepes in a quick fashion, having the crépe skins already premade, which sped up the process to merely involve the preparation of the insides.

I watched the older man smear the dolci di lecce from a can onto the crépe for Hao’s Evita, and it struck me that the can could’ve been heated just a wee bit for easier spreading, as the consistency was akin to peanut butter you pulled out of a very cold fridge. Once it was finally spread around, he peeled an banana and plopped it whole onto the crepe, cut it into small pieces, then pushed the banana bits around to make it even across the crépe work area. He then folded it neatly into a sort of diamond, then flipped it over to cook a bit on the folded side. Transferring the crépe to a plate, the whole look was completed with some caramel syrup, powdered sugar and whipped cream.

Oh boy!

Mine had been already made, so I took the two crépes out into the sea of mostly empty chairs in the food court. It had shocked me at how empty the mall was in general, considering it was a Saturday afternoon. Hao was waiting for his coffee to cool, which didn’t really get cool enough to drink until after we had eaten, whereupon he found it a little bitter, like it had been sitting for a while.

The crépes themselves were fabulous, but the frustrating thing was that they were so hard to cut intowith the plastic utensils requisite for mall food. I was afraid I’d break my dinky plastic fork as I attempted to pierce the crépe exterior in order to get to its sweet deliciousness. And, oh, was it sweet. The Romeo y Julieta was decadent; I wound up not being able to finish all of it. Hao said his Evita was on the sweet side, too, but he was able to clean his plate.

I think the final verdict was that La Creperia made some pretty awesome crépes, but it’s probably best just to get them in a to-go package and take them home with you, unless you’re really into food court scenery. That way, you can use real dining utensils, as opposed to plastic, and your eating won’t be periodically interrupted by a blood-curdling shriek from a 4 year-old on the other side of the mall. La Creperia has savoury food as well, and I’d love to try one of those next. Early on, we were warned by one of the employees that the menu was going to be changed up, and that the prices on their website aren’t exactly the same as at the location in the food court, but if you’re in the area and in the mood for a crépe to take out, look at their menu, although the PDF file also mentions pasta, which may not be at their little location in Orlando, but more than likely at their bigger location in the Tampa area.