Eureka!

Uh, hot cocoa, anyone?

It's a, uh...uh, a Cajun

recipe I found on the net— 

Chocolat au Lait Carbonisé

—Blackened Cocoa!

Cooking, like other arts, occasionally depends on luck. Sometimes a screw-up will turn out to be an improvement, like my discovery that more butter and less milk makes mashed potatoes even better. Recently, trying to approximate the recipe at a local restaurant, I ended up with a meat loaf that turned out way too highly spiced. So I broke it into chunks and used it to make a spaghetti meat sauce—where it was just perfect. For that matter, it was much easier than making meat balls, and I may just use that method again.

There are two basic rules to dealing with cooking mistakes when presenting food to family, guests or customers:

1. Take full credit whenever anything turns out good, even if you screwed up. You simply say, "Thank-you. I had a feeling that it would be good this way."

2. When things turn out bad, blame the recipe. For instance, you can say "That is pretty bad, isn't it? I got this recipe variation on line; it was supposed to add a flavor layer, but not like this. Let's chalk it up to scientific research; that's one formula we know doesn't work. More wine?"

Trust me, all professional chefs know these two rules and follow

them assiduously. Chefs do not make cooking errors—it's just a

given. Cooking is a tough job, cooking well is even tougher. You need to give yourself a break whenever the opportunity comes up. Besides, it's an art, and art has always depended on luck. I don't reckon that prehistoric cave painter, when he was mixing pigments, was thinking, "I'll bet this hand print will still look good 10,000 years from now."

So, when it comes out great, you're an artist; when it fails miserably, you're a scientist. It will give your guests confidence and allow you to learn from your mistakes in peace.

This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook — try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun! Julia Child, My Life in France

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. Scott Adams, The Dilbert Principle

;^)

Bowl me over

So, the other day I was sitting outside my rig, staring at the mountains and I’d let my mind off its leash. The old gray mass was wandering around, listening to the wind, looking at cloud shapes, sniffing the fresh air—when all of a sudden it whirls around and rushes back to me with this question:

Why do we serve pancakes on a plate?

Then you spend the entire meal chasing down errant syrup with the pancake bits you’ve impaled on your fork. Even expending all that effort, there’re still puddles of pancake syrup scattered about the plate when all the pancakes are gone.

Now I’m sure you, like I, learned in high school physics that pancakes and waffles posses the requisite properties allowing them to soak up all but the most over-thickened, bland-tasting, maple syrup substitutes. And I’m sure you, like I, have carried out the experiments proving these properties, taking note of how the bottom-most pancake absorbs the sucrose or fructose suspensions (i.e., syrup) with which it may come in contact.

How best, I wondered, to take advantage of these properties?

Eureka! I thought, serve pancakes in a bowl!

Concentrate the syrup to the center. Then, when you cut down through a stack and lift a section past your lips, you’ll be transferring saturation-point layers fully laden with maximum syrupy succulence.

I tried this out, using fried shredded wheat (Yes, Fried Shredded Wheat.) as my test medium. Works perfectly.

;^)

Fried Shredded Wheat

Recipe: Prepare shredded wheat as you would French toast. Then eat it like French toast.

Large biscuit shredded wheat,
un-fried.

This was one of my favorites growing up. But I think only my Mom and I really liked it, so we didn’t have it that often. I found the nutty taste, the crunchy texture and a near-mushy interior to be an excellent vehicle for slurps and slurps of table syrup.

That was back in the day before spoon-size mini-wheats. And bite-size mini-wheats. And frosted mini-wheats. Back then, there was just one size of shredded wheat biscuit: large. One cereal company made them into oblong pillows, another into round pods. Either way, maximum occupancy by a large cereal bowl was two biscuits.

Those large biscuits still work best for this recipe, however, any size or type of shredded wheat will work. There are just two things to keep in mind:

1. The smaller the biscuit, the longer it must soak in the egg-milk mix.
2. Frosted biscuits will burn sooner because of the sugar surfaces.

Oh, one more thing. The big, old-fashioned biscuits were manufactured without any ingredients other than wheat. That means no salt. So check your brand’s ingredient list. If there’s no salt (“sodium” on the nutrition label) listed, adding some to the egg batter may improve the taste, depending on your own salt habits.

;^)

A Potato Primer

Photo credit**

So, you’re standing in the produce section of a typical American supermarket because your shopping list has “potatoes” on it. What do you need to know? Here are the basics.

There are four common types of potatoes found in many U.S. grocery stores. Each one has distinctive characteristics that suit
particular uses, mostly based on starch content.

1. Russet (sometimes called “Idaho” or “Baking” and several regional names, e.g., "Burbank") Probably the most common potato found in American markets. They have a sturdy brown to dark-brown, finely “netted” skin and tend to be an oblong, irregular shape with deep eye pits. They are likely to be the largest potatoes on display, but are sold in all sizes.

Clockwise, from upper left:
Russet, Red, Yellow and Purple
(Credit Colorado Potato Administrative Committee)

2. Red (sometimes called “Bliss”) Likely the second most common potato in your local produce section. Reds have a more tender skin than russets, somewhat glossy light red to brownish-red in color, rounder and with fewer eyes.

3. White Tend to be regional. A round version with tan to brown, sometimes speckled skin is grown in the northeastern U.S. An oblong type with light tan to brown skin is grown in California. Whites have very few discernible eyes. Market distribution is concentrated nearest where they are cultivated and diminishes with distance.

Photo credit**

4. Yellow (Also called “Gold”) These have a national distribution, but production levels sometimes limit supply. They are mostly round and have a thin, tender, yellow-tan to light brown skin with few eyes.

Other potato terms “New potatoes” are any early harvested potato, usually small in size and with a thinner skin; the most common variety marketed is new red potatoes. “Fingerling,” “Purple” and “Blue” potatoes are heritage varieties and are described by their names; the latter two also have like-colored flesh, though the basic potato taste is not affected (they can add some interest to a potato salad). “Sweet potatoes” aren't potatoes—nor are they yams.

Best uses for common potato varieties are indicated by the number
of dots; starch content is for comparison.

Some notable attributes of common potato varieties,
with starch content for comparison.

The accompanying charts can be a guide when it comes to using different varieties of potatoes, but don’t get hung up on them. In many instances the differences are minor and other qualities may counterbalance primary uses. In even a mild pinch, most potato varieties can substitute for one another. And if you don’t like the way it turns out, just call it “science” and try something different next time.

;^)

Bean Salad

Also known as Three Bean Salad, Five Bean Salad, Seven Bean Salad, etc. (In some quarters it's bad form to use an even number of bean types; I've heard it said an even number can mess with your bean Ch'i. Just sayin'.)

A bean salad dressed up with
red bell peppers, peas and onions.
(Image courtesy**)

This is another salad that can escape notice because of the somewhat atypical base ingredients—canned beans. It can also serve as a side dish and will meet most vegan standards. Essentially, this recipe is a marinade for beans; therefor, some post-assembly wait-time is involved.

Ingredients
~ Three (or more) 15 oz. cans, one each of any of the following: kidney beans, navy beans, red beans, black beans, fava beans, lima beans, green beans, yellow (wax) beans, garbanzo beans (chickpeas), pinto beans, soybeans, and in Half Cup amounts, corn (can, fresh or frozen), green peas (ditto), diced carrots (ditto again), diced (fresh or frozen) bell peppers (red, green, orange or yellow), diced (fresh) onions or green onions—or whatever strikes your fancy. Onion is probably the most common non-bean addition. Go for good color and texture variance.
~ Half Cup apple cider vinegar
~ Quarter Cup vegetable oil
~ Quarter Cup sugar

Preparation
~ Drain the beans well. If they are packed in a sauce, rinse them with water.
~ In a mixing bowl, combine the vinegar and sugar and whisk together thoroughly to dissolve the sugar. Add the oil and whisk again. Taste the marinade and adjust the ingredients to your preference. Whisk again as necessary.
~ Mix in the beans (and what-all), gently. All of the beans and any other veggies should rest in the marinade; if you need more, whip some up.
~ Put the bowl in the 'fridge to chill for at least 90 minutes.

Serve
Drain about half the marinade (for service, we don't want the beans swimming in marinade) and put the beans in a serving bowl. A slotted serving spoon is preferred. Serve cold.

Variations
Limited only by your imagination. Both the vegetable ingredients and the marinade are primed for creativity. Pimento, diced avocado, sliced olives, sliced bananas (just kidding), diced chiles, diced jicama, minced garlic or, just before serving, add some diced pepperoni, ham or corned beef. Of course, there goes your vegan crowd.

;^)