Foodie With Family

Thai Sweet and Hot Garlic Dipping Sauce

…Does writing two posts in a row with a sweet and spicy theme say something about me?

In actuality, I do believe I can blame this one on you all, you sweet and spicy wildcats. I did, after all, put it up for a vote on the Foodie With Family Facebook fan phage. (Yes, I know it should be page, but I got carried away with alliterative abandon.) The voting results were narrowly skewed in favor of this addictive Thai Sweet and Hot Garlic Dipping Sauce. Never fear, my salsa fanatics! We’ll be back on the salsa train tomorrow. In the meantime, if you’re looking for my first salsa recipe in my week long salsa recipe series, you’ll want to click on over to my Record-Eagle column. While you’re at it, have a gander at my Peaches and Cream Time Saver Muffin recipe. You’ll be so glad you did!

I have a confession to make. My husband and I have allowed all of our children to learn and adopt our own long-standing addiction. We didn’t just let it happen, we encouraged it. In fact, we bought the strong stuff for them. I mean heavy-duty. The dangerous stuff that reduces strong men to weeping babies. The truth is that growing up in our family it was all but inevitable.

All five of our sons are hot sauce addicts.

I do mean they are fully addicted to hot sauce. For Christmas last year, my ten-year-old and eight-year-old chucked aside their main gifts in order to crack open the miniature bottles of Frank’s Extra-Hot Sauce that we had tucked into their stockings. Did they shake it on their eggs? Drizzle it over their breakfast sausage? Eat it straight on chips? No. Any of those would’ve been reasonable, but no. My children shook the bottles straight into their mouths. On purpose. And then repeated it until each of them had consumed about two tablespoons of it straight from the bottle. Then -and then, only- they ate a couple pieces of candy. And then went back to the hot sauce.

My baby. My little, sweet, cuddly four-year-old baby likes copious amounts of Sriracha on his turkey sandwiches, in his congee and on his tacos. My twelve- and six-year olds profess not to like hot sauce as much as their brothers, but that’s only because they’re choosy. They don’t like Frank’s, Tabasco or Sriracha, but they both like -nay, adore!- Melinda’s Original Habanero XXXXtra Reserve Sauce. Dare I confess that we buy it by the gallon?

Considering that I do often share ‘spicy’ recipes here on Foodie With Family, and that I often get questions regarding just how hot a recipe I just offered actually is, I thought it was about time for me to create a heat-rating system; one that gives you a good idea of just how hot something actually is. A system that was more specific and universally understandable than my usual, “Well, my four-year-old eats it…” because the truth is, my four-year-old stuffs his face full of wasabi peas, cries, knocks his head against my thigh waiting for the wasabi burn to die down then begs me for more. And so, I present to you…

The Foodie With Family “Spicy Foods” Equivalency Rating System

Eh, at least it has flavor.
Not bad. This would be good for small children and it’s pretty tasty stuff.
I like it. It’s a good all-purpose kind of heat without being at all overwhelming.
Tingly, definitely packs a little punch.
Hot, but full of great flavor.
Oooh, the roof of my mouth is sweating. More please.
My tongue is on fire and I like it.
I’m sorry. Did you ask me something? I can’t hear you over the freight train running through my ears and I’m pretty sure my face has melted off of my head.
Where did everyone go? I think I’ve gone blind.

If I were to put this in terms of widely available and well-known foods, it might look a little like this…

A little freshly ground black pepper.
Frank’s Red Hot Sauce
Tabasco Sauce
A generous shake of crushed red pepper flakes on a piece of pizza.
Melinda’s Original Habanero XXXXtra Reserve Sauce
Sriracha
A bite of a fresh, ripe habanero pepper. If you eat enough you will most definitely experience the ‘hot sauce hangover’.*
…Crazy off-brand hot sauces that hardly anyone recognizes because they hurt and they’re expensive. Most people don’t pay for that honest to goodness pain.
Dave’s Insanity Sauce. There’s a reason some states require you to sign a health-waiver when you purchase this stuff. And for the record, this stuff is off-the-charts for us. With two notable (and historical) exceptions, we do not eat this.**

*The Hot Sauce Hangover is a phrase coined by The Evil Genius to describe the phenomenon whereby the hot sauce makes its presence known on you causing your posterior to hang over the toilet for roughly the same amount of time it took you to eat it in the first place.

**These exceptions are stories for another day and another cuppa tea. I’ll just say the first occasion was a pride-fueled attempt to impress someone by putting Dave’s Insanity Sauce on my burger like ketchup. The second event was my husband trying to eat it because he didn’t believe I could’ve possibly experienced that much pain from hot sauce when I recounted the story to him. I won that time.

Now that we’re all on the same page, let’s talk Thai Sweet and Hot Garlic Dipping Sauce. I’m going to say that it falls somewhere between a four and a five in terms of heat and it gets full-marks on flavor. If your heat-preferences run lower than ours, you can certainly reduce the crushed red pepper flakes called for in the recipe. In terms of commercial comparisons, it is similar in flavor to Mae Ploy sauce but as with most homemade sauces, it’s just so much better. There isn’t much that tastes better with lumpia, summer rolls or fried spring rolls, egg rolls or chicken balls. Use to glaze or brush on grilled meats or whisk a little together with grated fresh ginger, soy sauce, and sesame oil for the best dressing ever to adorn an Asian chicken salad. Just look at how gorgeous it is. Don’t you want to drink a tall glass of it?

No? I’m alone on this? No one else wants a glass? Alright, but seriously, make this. It is one of the easiest canning projects you can try because it doesn’t require any exotic ingredients or specialty equipment aside from the canning jars themselves. And believe me, it is worth the effort. For the sauce to reach its full flavor potential, it has to sit on the shelves at room temperature for at least three weeks. This isn’t a moment where you can mix up the sauce and shove it in the back of the refrigerator. It just won’t develop the same roundness and body. Veteran canners can skim through and get the information they need, but I’m going to talk this through step-by-step for the newbie canners out there. You can do this! Yes, you CAN. Oh man, I crack me up.

In order to complete the project, you need to be able to lay your hands on the following items:

Between nine and twelve half-pint (8 ounce) canning jars with new two-piece lids. If you’re unfamiliar with two-piece lids, just buy a box of new canning jars from your local hardware store or Walmart. They come -quite conveniently- with new two-piece lids!
A large stockpot or pasta pot with a tight fitting lid.
A rack that fits on the bottom of the pan to prevent jars from sitting directly on the pan’s surface. If you don’t have that, rings from ‘regular mouth’ canning jars can be placed facing downward sides touching to create a space between the bottom of the jars and the pan.
A waterproof oven mitt or canning tongs.
A ladle.
Paper towels or clean tea towels.
A timer or a clock.

For a printer-friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, click here!

Thai Sweet and Hot Garlic Dipping Sauce

Adapted from The Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving

Yield: About 9 half- pints as written

Ingredients:

1/2 cup finely minced fresh garlic (Peel and mince your own garlic, please. Pre-minced garlic in jars just isn’t good enough for this recipe.)
1 Tablespoon Kosher salt
6 cups cider vinegar
6 cups granulated white sugar
3/4 cup (less if your heat tolerance is lower) crushed red pepper flakes

Prepare the jars and rings by washing on the hot cycle of your dishwasher. Wash the lids in hot soapy water and rinse well. Place in a bowl covered by two or three inches of very hot tap water. Set aside.

Prepare your canner (or stockpot) by putting a rack in the bottom to hold the jars away from the base of the pan. If you do not have a rack, use a fully opened vegetable steamer basket or extra rings from ‘regular-mouth’ or ‘narrow-mouth’ canning jars placed facing down with the sides touching. Set aside.

Sprinkle salt over the minced garlic in a metal or glass bowl (don’t use plastic here unless you want a perma-garlic bowl!) Stir together, cover tightly with plastic wrap and let it mellow at room temperature for an hour. The salt will help pull some of the moisture from the garlic, so don’t skip this step!

In a saucepan, bring the vinegar to a rolling boil. Add the sugar all at once and stir well until the sugar is dissolved. Return to a full boil. Lower heat just slightly so that it boils steadily but not really hard. Boil steadily, uncovered, for 10 minutes. Remove the pan from the hot burner, stir in the garlic mixture and the crushed red pepper flakes. Take care not to hold your face directly over the pan when adding in the pepper flakes as that can trigger some serious coughing and eye-watering, depending on the strength of the pepper flakes.

Ladle the hot sauce into the hot jars. You want to leave 1/2″ of space between the top lip of the jar and the top level of the dipping sauce. Use a ruler outside the jar to check whether you have the right amount of open space. If you need to, use a spoon to remove some sauce or add sauce to maintain that 1/2″ of headspace. Use a paper towel (or clean tea towel) dipped in pure cider vinegar to wipe the rims of the jars even if it doesn’t look like anything is on it.

Use your clean hands to grab a lid from the hot tap water. Position it, rubber seal side down, directly over the center of the jar. Place the metal ring over the jar and gently screw it into place until you meet resistance. When you meet resistance, tighten the jar until it is finger-tip tight. (In other words, tighten until it is the tightness that you can achieve with your finger-tips, not with vice-grips.) The jars are going to be hot because you poured nearly boiling liquid into them. I find it helpful to wear an oven mitt on the hand that is holding the jar steady.

When all of your jars are ready, set the prepared canner on your burner. Position the jars (using an oven mitt to keep from burning your fingers or palms) over the rack (or steamer basket or upside-down canning lids) so that the jars are steady and in an upright position. Cover the jars completely by at least one inch with hot tap water. Place a lid on your canner (or stockpot) and turn the heat on your burner to high. When the water reaches a full, rolling boil (one that could not be stirred down), set your timer for 15 minutes. When the 15 minutes have elapsed, remove the lid to your canner and shut off the heat. Leave the jars in the hot water for 5 minutes.

After 5 minutes, transfer the jars (using a waterproof oven mitt or canning tongs) to a towel lined counter or a cooling rack with a towel under it. You should start to hear the “POP” of the lids as they form vacuums and seal. This is a very good thing! Leave your jars to rest, undisturbed, overnight. In the morning, test the jars by pressing gently on the center of each lid. If it does not give under gentle pressure or pop back up, your seal is good. Remove the rings for storage*, wipe gently with a damp cloth or paper towel, label and store in a cool, dark place for 3 weeks prior to using. Unopened, sealed jars of this sauce can be stored for a year.

*Storing your jars without the rings is a little bit of insurance. When food spoils in a closed environment, the gasses produced by bacterial growth create upward pressure in the air pocket left by the headspace you so carefully measured in the jar. If you remove the ring, any gasses produced by spoilage will push upward on the lid loosening the seal. When you open a jar, if the seal is weak or there is no “schllllllooop” from a vacuum seal being broken, discard the contents immediately. On the flip side, if you hear that lovely “schllllllllooop” and the lid is difficult to pry from the jar, you’ve done the job right! You can eat your home-canned goodies, content in your foodstuffs’ safety.

Before opening a jar of Thai Sweet and Hot Garlic Dipping Sauce, be sure to give it a good shake. There will be a natural settling of the product in storage and shaking is a simple way to distribute all that gorgeous garlic and pepper flake-age.

Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn

A.) It’s rainy.

B.) It’s chilly.

C.) My husband was on a business trip this week meaning that I parented our five boys solo.

D.) My husband got in from that business trip at 1:30 a.m. this morning.

E.) I’ve been canning like a maniac for weeks on end.

F.) I have a hole in my heart that was created by my utter lack of time to watch my favorite movies lately.

G.) I spent all of yesterday at the Angelica Farmer’s Market with the kids (who were selling their Mortar Men and Room & Linen Sprays) on what turned out to be, according to the market’s coordinator “…the slowest day we’ve ever actually had at the Farmer’s Market.”

H.) I wanted to prove that I am still capable of writing a post that doesn’t involve putting food in jars. Although, you really could actually put this into jars. Just a thought.

There. This is what I like to think of as front-loading with my excuses reasons behind this post. And now that I’ve been all efficient, I can go straight to the good stuff; Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn. I never really cared much for kettle corn because of an unfortunate incident as an exchange student in France*. I found it an affront to the great and noble salted and buttered popcorn of my youth. I viewed it as an anemic impersonation of caramel corn; food of the gods. And last, but certainly not least, I really, really REALLY didn’t like how very many times I had seen it written ‘kettle korn’.**

*I had been in France for about three months when struck with an incredible craving for crunchy popcorn. I stopped in the first Supermarché I could find and gasped audibly when I found a bag of fluffy white popcorn on the shelf. I grabbed. I paid. I tore it open. I stuffed a fistful in my mouth. I spit it out into a garbage can. I was not emotionally prepared for popcorn to be totally sweet. White Cheddar or Salted? Yes. Sickly sweet? Not so much. And so my prejudice against any sweet popcorn that wasn’t caramel corn was born.

**Korn with a ‘K’? No way. That rubs ever CDO** bone in my body the wrong way.

***CDO: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder in alphabetical order. The way God intended.

But inspiration strikes at odd moments. As The Evil Genius and his progeny sat on the couch watching the Little League World Series (El Salvador vs. Saudi Arabia) our eldest pined -pointedly- in my direction, “I sure could go for something sweet to munch. Sigh.” The Evil Genius mouthed the words “kettle corn” in my direction and accompanied it with his most charming world-domination smile. Then they all started ululating.*

*Sorry for all the asides, but this one is one-hundred percent necessary. The guys saw a Saudi mother ululating when her son hit a home run. They’ve been ululating since. It’s been two hours. Send help. Now.

Since I was afraid they’d carry on ululating if I didn’t whip up a batch of kettle corn I hied me hence to the kitchen. I planned on doing one batch of the dreaded kettle corn for them and one batch of my favorite; salted with nutritional yeast (don’t you DARE gag. It’s delicious. Even if it DOES contain something called ‘nutritional yeast’ which admittedly sounds like it would be served by a very serious health food adherent with no sense of humour whatsoever.) I made the kettle corn, poured it into a bowl and -in an act that I really can’t remember consciously deciding to perform- sprinkled a generous quantity of ground chipotle powder over the top. Um. Whoops?

No. Not whoops. Divine. Sweet, smoky, spicy, salty and crisp; this stuff knocked off my socks. Color me converted. Well, to the Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn anyway. You can keep the other stuff. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

I ended up making several more batches because it was eaten almost as fast as I could make it. The kids loved it. The Evil Genius loved it. I loved it. Score.

Now if you’ll pardon me. I’m going to go grab my bowl and catch up on my movies. Middle Earth, here I come!

For a printable version of this recipe minus the photos and rambling, click here!

Sweet and Spicy Chipotle Kettle Corn

Ingredients:

3 Tablespoons canola oil
1/4 cup of your favorite unpopped popcorn kernels (I love ladyfinger popcorn. So small, so cute, so tasty!) + 3 extra kernels
1/4 cup granulated white sugar
salt to taste (start around 1/4 teaspoon and work up from there.)
ground chipotle pepper powder to taste (start around 1/4 teaspoon and work up from there.)

Regular Pot Instructions:

In a large heavy-bottomed pan with a tight-fitting lid, heat the oil and the 3 extra kernels over medium high heat with the lid in place. Shake the pan every 10 seconds. When you hear the three kernels pop, act quickly (while wearing oven mitts.) Dump in the 1/4 each of popcorn kernels and sugar. Put the lid back on very quickly and start shaking in a circular motion. Listen to the popping of the kernels. It should pick up in tempo until you can’t distinguish the popping of individual kernels. Keep shaking the pan. After that it will gradually decrease. This is where you need to pay the most attention. When the popping tapers off to the point where you hear a two to three second pause between pops, you need to pull the pan off the heat and empty it into a bowl very quickly.

Whirly Pop Instructions:

In a Whirly Pop pan, heat the oil and the 3 extra kernels over medium high heat with the lid in place. Keep turning the Whirly Pop handle. When you hear the three kernels pop, act quickly (while wearing oven mitts.) Quickly open one side of the Whirly Pop and dump in the 1/4 each of popcorn kernels and sugar. Knock the lid back into place very quickly and start turning the handle. Listen to the popping of the kernels. It should pick up in tempo until you can’t distinguish the popping of individual kernels. Keep turning the handle. After that it will gradually decrease. This is where you need to pay the most attention. When the popping tapers off to the point where you hear a two to three second pause between pops, you need to pull the pan off the heat and empty it into a bowl very quickly.

~~Now for the good stuff…

No matter which way you cook it, when you’ve emptied it into a large bowl, sprinkle with salt and chipotle powder to taste, toss and stir with a long wooden spoon. You don’t want to stir by hand because that melted sugar seriously burns! Let cool for a couple minutes and then dig in! Kettle corn keeps well in a paper bag with the top folded down and crimped for a day or two at room temperature.

Pique (Puerto Rican Style Hot Sauce)

Spicy hot is how things are around here.

From the weather to the produce to the activity level, everything packs major heat these days.

My garden is in a bit of a lull at the moment since cucumbers are about done and tomatoes are just gearing up, but the jalapeño plants are ready to go, go, go. My love of jalapeños is well-documented. And while I’m thrilled to finally get some homegrown hot peppers* there aren’t quite enough to put together a full batch for Candied Jalapeños. Because tomatoes aren’t really fully ready yet, salsa is out, too. But I’ll be darned if I’m going to let one of those little green beauties go to waste.

*I have tried, unsuccessfully, year after year after year to grow hot pepper plants of various types. I’ve ranged from mild disappointment -plants that grew and set fruit that never matured- to abject failure -plants that were eaten down to the ground by nasty, greedy woodland critters, and/or plants that I forgot to water. And even in years where I did everything right -when I weeded and watered and pruned and trimmed and fed- it was still dismal. This year we tried something new out of sheer laziness. When we reached the end of space in the garden after filling it with the necessaries (cucumbers, tomatoes, zucchini, summer squash, beans, radishes, lettuce and whatnot) we had no desire to break more ground for the wee pepper plants we had bought. Instead of breaking out the pick-axe and the tiller, we rummaged around until we came up with several nursery pots, filled them with composted manure and sawdust and nestled the little pepper hopefuls in and walked away… Whaddya know? It worked.

Pique to the rescue. We’re talking about the unofficial national hot sauce of Puerto Rico. I’ve not yet had the privilege of traveling to Puerto Rico* but I’ve heard from reliable sources that most households and restaurants keep a bottle or two of their own version of pique at the dinner table. It is hot sauce in its simplest form; vinegar, hot peppers, and optional spices to round out the flavors. Over greens, steamed or roasted vegetables or into soup, or *ahem* on top of freshly deep-fried French fries (not that I’m trying to lead you astray), a little drizzle of Pique is just what the doctor ordered. And it’s a match made in heaven for frugal food lovers. Because of the acidity level of pure cidervinegar, Pique is good indefinitely in the refrigerator. Standard practice is to top off the vinegar in your Pique bottle as it gets lower. It’s an almost never-ending bottle of hot sauce. Rejoice! The taste and the cheap are like peas and carrots here!

The perpetual advantage of making buyable items at home is that it is always customizable for your individual tastes. You can make it gently spicy or burn-your-face-off-hot with any combination of hot peppers. Since jalapeños are what I have (victory dance!) that’s what I used. I tossed in a few dried arbol chile peppers for added kick and color. And I went heavy on the garlic because I could.

If you have an empty glass soy sauce bottle or vinegar bottle that has the little removable plastic shaker top to keep things from plopping out onto your plate en masse, it makes a wonderful vessel for your gorgeous Pique. If that’s not handy, you can always use a canning jar or empty jar of some other sort with a tight fitting lid. The shaker bottle just makes Pique-to-dinner deployment a more precise operation.

Of course, if you can lay your hands on pretty little bottles with spouts, that would transform your project into one worthy of gift giving. Tie a tag with instructions on storage, use and refilling around the neck of the bottle and gather up the compliments because they will be heaped upon you. (You creative, tasteful, thoughtful, frugal friend, you!)

For a printer-friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, click here.

Pique (Puerto Rican Style Hot Sauce)

Ingredients:

about 1 cup cider vinegar (I like Bragg’s Raw Apple Cider Vinegar)
about 12 long hot peppers (You can use any combination of jalapeno, arbol, scotch bonnet, habanero, cayenne, etc…)
4-6 cloves of garlic, peeled and cut in half lengthwise
12 black peppercorns
1/4 teaspoon Kosher (or other non-iodized) salt
1/2 a bay leaf

Other optional tasty additions:

Several stems of fresh cilantro or fresh oregano
a squeeze or two of lime juice
toasted cumin seed
a splash of rum

Also needed:

1 clean, empty glass bottle of about 12-ounce capacity with a tight fitting lid. If there is a removable plastic shaker top, that is even better! Remove the shaker top prior to filling and set aside. An empty rice wine vinegar bottle works very well.

Drop the garlic cloves, peppercorns, salt and bay leaf (and any of your optional additions) down into the bottle.

Remove the stems from the hot peppers. Leave the seeds and membranes intact if you want your Pique spicy! If necessary, slice the peppers lengthwise until they are a size that fits easily into the mouth of the bottle. Insert peppers (or peppers strips) into the bottle. Use a funnel to pour vinegar into the bottle to cover the peppers and spices. If your bottle has a shaker top, snap it back into place, add the lid and set out on the counter for two days. After two days, store your Pique in the refrigerator. You can top off with vinegar when it starts getting low. When the peppers start losing their punch, use a chopstick to remove the peppers and start over!

Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling

I used to think I despised cherries.

This was some high-heresy for a girl raised awfully close to ‘The Cherry Capital of the World’.* Why I thought cherries were gross I can attribute to two reasons: A) I didn’t like the whole spit-the-pit thing. I was a tidy child. B) The only way to eat cherries sans pits, as far as I knew, was maraschino cherries and I still maintain that those are disgusting.

*Nothing like some trivia to de-cobweb the old gray matter. Does anyone out there know which area I mean?

I realized the error of my ways long after moving out of state*. I was at a friend’s house when she insisted I try a beautiful red cherry she had picked earlier that day. I was blown away by the intense, tart, sweet flavor. And I didn’t even mind spitting the pit. My devotion was deep and instant. But DANG they were expensive. On sale, loss-leader sale even, I couldn’t find pre-picked cherries for anything less than $2.99 per pound. I lived much too far from any cherry orchards to make it cost-effective to drive to one to pick my own. Then we moved again.

*I have a major food regret from my childhood. I wish I hadn’t been such an anti-cherry and anti-morel mushroom picky-pants. I had both overflowing in my backyard free for the taking.

I am now fortunate enough to live in Amish country where the bulk-food buying and canning mindsets of my ‘Dutch’ neighbors combine to provide me with ample and affordable supplies of pre-picked fruits and vegetables at prices that would make grocery store managers reach for the antacids. This year, I pitted sixty pounds of sweet black cherries and I’m still canning my way through thirty pounds of pre-pitted sour cherries. The black sweet cherries rang in at $0.70 per pound and the pre-pitted sour cherries came in at a slightly pricier (but still bargain-basement price of) $1.26 per pound. You already know about the Rum-Soaked Preserved Cherries and the Boozy Cherry Molasses, and I’ve been promising my Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling recipe for an (indecently) awful long time. How many of you are waiting out there languishing with a whipped ganache filled tart in hand just hanging on for a pie filling that doesn’t taste and look like glorified maraschino cherries and doesn’t plop out of a pull-tab can? I am so sorry. I blame my children.*

*Because I can. Yes, I can. A little laughter please? Can’t a girl get a little giggle for politico-culinary humour?

Why make your own instead of buying the cheap stuff? For the usual reasons; flavor and health. Store-bought canned pie filling can’t hold a candle to homemade in terms of flavor. But just as compelling is the long list of nasty additives and artificial flavors present in the storebought stuff. There are five -count ‘em- FIVE ingredients in homemade Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling, all of which are readily available and pronounceable.

Ah, Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling. What can’t you do? Sure, you can make a good old-fashioned cherry pie with it, but you can also top cheesecakes with it, layer it with brownies and whipped cream in a mean trifle, pour it on top of softened cream cheese to serve with graham crackers or make a deadly no-bake Black Forest Truffle Tart. You want some of this on your pantry shelves. Seriously.

For a printer-friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, click here!

Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling: Printer Friendly Version

From The Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving (see here for book details!)

Yield: about 8 pint (500 mL) or 4 quart (1 L) jars

Ingredients:

10 pounds frozen sweet black cherries, thawed in the refrigerator for 24 hours.
2 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup ClearJel (Or Thermaflo or Permaflo)
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/3 cup lemon juice

Position a colander over a large bowl. Pour partially thawed cherries into the colander, cover lightly with plastic wrap and leave on the counter top, stirring occasionally, until you have collected 7 cups of juice in the bowl. Set aside the juice and the cherries.

Prepare the canner, jars and lids. For more information, see our basic canning how-to’s.

In a large stainless steel or enameled stockpot, whisk together the sugar, ClearJel and cinnamon. When it is evenly combined, whisk in 4 cups of the cherry juice*. Place stockpot over medium-high heat and bring to a boil, stirring constantly to prevent scorching. Continue boiling until thickened. Whisk in the lemon juice and return to a boil, stirring constantly. Continue stirring and allow the mixture to boil hard for 1 minute. Add the reserved cherries all at once, stir in gently, and continue stirring constantly while returning to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat.

*You can freeze or can the remaining juice or turn it into Boozy Cherry Molasses. The basic instructions remain the same, just add half as much sugar (by volume) and go forth with the directions from there.

Scoop the hot pie filling into the hot jars allowing 1-inch of headspace to remain between the pie filling and the rim of the jar. Remove air bubbles from the filling by inserting a long, flexible spatula or chopstick into the jars. Wipe the jar rims and position the lids in place. Screw the rings onto the jars to fingertip tight.

Place jars in a canner, cover with hot tap water by at least 1-inch, cover, and place covered canner over high-heat to bring the water to a boil. Once the water is boiling hard, you can begin timing; both pints and quarts must be processed for 35 minutes. After 35 minutes, turn off the heat, remove the lid and let the jars remain in the water for an additional 5 minutes. Remove to a cooling rack or towel lined counter and allow to cool, undisturbed, for 24 hours before removing rings, wiping jars clean and labeling. Processed and sealed pie filling can be stored in a cool, dark place for a year or so.

~~~~

Before I leave you to whipping up your own batch of Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling I want to let you in on a dirty little secret. I have a treat that I allow myself that I refer to as Mommy’s Little Helper. It’s the thing that stands between sanity and selling my children to the nearest traveling circus and it is as simple as it is delicious. Just dip a spoon into your resident jar of Nutella (you DO have one, don’t you?) and top with a dollop of Sweet Black Cherry Pie Filling. Open mouth. Insert. Oh sure, you could class it up a little and serve it on graham crackers or chocolate wafer cookies, but then it’s not so naughty -and therefore- not so much fun. Danger. It’s my middle name.

Garden Couscous Salad

So. Is the room spinning or is it just me? I keep waiting for the opportunity to arise where I can kick off my shoes, lay on my back in the sand, find Bugs Bunny as Brunhilde hidden in the clouds, swim in a clear blue lake, and turn to a cooler fully stocked with everything I love to eat before winding up the evening singing songs and making s’mores around a campfire.

*This view of what summer should be is based largely on how I spent every summer day of my youth. Thanks so much, Mom and Dad for a spectacular childhood . I blame you. In the nicest possible way.

Instead, I’ve been running my children to play practice*, manning the fort while The Evil Genius is off doing highly technical things in scary technical places with frighteningly technical people, preserving every bit of produce that stands still long enough to be pickled or frozen or canned, steadfastly ignoring my ever-growing pile of laundry, and ensuring that my children at least are laying on their backs in the grass trying to discern Elmer Fudd as Siegfried. It’s a tradition, you see.

*For the last week, three of my five sons have performed the parts of the cutest orphans you’ve ever seen in ‘The Sound of Music’. Is it just me or does anyone else out there fail to remember orphans being in ‘The Sound of Music’? Whatever. They were cute. And orphany. Well, except for the fact that I still had to make three meals a day and ferry these ‘faux orphans’ to and from rehearsals and performances. I coached them to come up with their back stories as orphans to help them be convincing. (Old Theater Majors don’t die. They just become stage moms.) “Think about how you got to the convent. Do you know each other? Are you brothers? How did you become orphans? Did both of your parents die? Did your mother drop you off here because she could no longer afford to feed you then run over and join the convent in a very specifically non-childcare capacity?” I jest. I didn’t ask them if both of their parents died.

The weather is hot, the garden is producin’ and there is very little time to spend in the kitchen. Couscous to the rescue. While all couscous is good, I’m especially partial to Israeli couscous; the small, round, toasted pearls of couscous also known as ptitim. Israeli couscous, unlike the ‘standard’ couscous, is toasted rather than dried. The toasting imparts a subtle nutty flavor that is well-suited to both warm and cold dishes. Hot weather requires cold food. (You’ve heard this theory from me before, right?) A cold couscous salad is a surprisingly effective delivery vehicle for big, fresh, garden flavors. Toasty, nutty couscous tossed with the light flavors of a vinaigrette and all sorts of bounty from the garden; zucchini, broccoli, onions, and more. Briny olives and salty feta give the salad some body. Before you all think I’ve jumped the shark; yes. I actually did mean to put those pickles in there. The olive/broccoli/pickle combination is one of my mom’s most genius food combinations and it’s not as far out as you might think. Think of pickles as a shortcut to adding cucumber and dill to this salad. And when you put together cucumber, dill, olives and feta? Well you could hardly object to that, right? (Unless you’re an inveterate feta hater, then you’re off the boat already. Substitute with extra sharp cheddar if you must. It’ll still taste great.)

As for what to serve this alongside, the possibilities are many; grilled or broiled fish, chicken or pork are all at home on a plate with a big serving of Garden Couscous Salad. Pack it in picnic baskets. Eat it alone as a light and healthy lunch. Sneak it for guilt-free midnight snacks. I’ve been known to tuck into a bowl for breakfast now and again, and that’s saying something because I’m not normally a breakfast kind of gal.

Don’t flip out and write this off when you see the length of the ingredient list; this is all readily available stuff (even in my little corner of East-of-Nowhere) and it is a very simple preparation. The only semi-exotic ingredient is the Israeli couscous. If you can’t find it locally, try Amazon. Prefer whole wheat? They have that, too!

I have a favor to ask. Could you pop your head out the window and look upward for just a moment? Look a little closer. See that? That’s life and Porky Pig and Bugs and Elmer and Sylvester and Tweety and Foghorn Leghorn and Brunhilde and Siegfried and summer passing us by. Let’s make a pact. I’ll lay down and admire the clouds a little if you do. Do we have a deal?

Want a photo-free, printer-friendly version of this recipe minus my yadda yadda? Click here!

Garden Couscous Salad

Ingredients:

2 cups Israeli couscous
4 cups water
1 onion end (You are saving them right? If not, cut off about 2 inches of the root end of an onion, peel and use that.)
2 parsley stems from the freezer (Also saving these in a freezer bag, right? If not, toss a couple fresh stems of parsley into the pot.)
2 teaspoons Kosher or coarse sea salt, divided
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 broccoli crown, cut into small florets (Chop up and save the stem in a freezer bag for your next batch of broccoli soup!)
1 cup black or Kalamata olives, sliced in half
4 ounces of feta cheese, crumbled or diced very small
1 medium sized zucchini, washed and diced
2 medium carrots, scrubbed and diced very small
2 dill pickles, diced
1/2 a sweet onion, peeled and diced very small
1-2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced (or 1/2 teaspoon granulated garlic)
3 Tablespoons + 2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2-3 Tablespoons red wine vinegar, to taste
1/4-1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper, to taste

Heat 2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil over medium heat in a large saucepan with a tight fitting lid. When the oil is hot, add the dry couscous and stir well to coat. Toast the couscous in the oil for about 1-2 minutes or just until a couple couscous grains begin to take on a light golden brown color but most of them remain pale. Carefully add the water all at once along with the onion end, parsley stems and 1 teaspoon of the Kosher salt. The water will boil up quickly and may spit a little, so be cautious. Add the lid and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 8-10 minutes, until the couscous is cooked through, but not mushy. Pour the couscous into a fine mesh strainer and rinse with cold water.

Transfer the couscous into a large mixing bowl. Add the remaining 3 Tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and 1 teaspoon of Kosher salt, freshly ground black pepper, red wine vinegar, minced garlic (or granulated garlic) and minced onion to the couscous and toss to distribute evenly.

Add remaining ingredients and toss until evenly combined. This is best if covered tightly and refrigerated for an hour or more prior to serving, but it can be eaten immediately.

Black Forest Truffle Tart

I’m just going to go ahead and say it now because I’ve been biting my tongue for nearly a month now; I don’t like hot weather. It makes me sweat. And sweating makes me cranky. Ergo, heat makes me cranky. I don’t mean the lovely warmth of a kitchen where bread is baking on a cold winter’s day. I mean humid, sticky, drinkable air, back-of-the-legs-sticking-to-the-lawn-chair hot and an ambient air temperature with which you could coddle an egg.

My attitude is, admittedly, not the best vis-a-vis sultry summer heat, but The Evil Genius goes and makes it worse. He operates on an entirely different energy level when it’s sticky out. Ninety degrees? He does a happy dance and gets up on the roof to do some highly intricate job involving difficult physical manoeuvres and wiring and tar. The fact that we have a metal roof that heats up like a griddle and he has to do the job in bare feet to keep from slipping? No problem! That makes it more fun for him. Ninety five to a hundred degrees? Even better for him! Too hot to stand on the griddle, er, roof so he repairs to the golf course for a double round -walking while carrying his own golf bag, of course- and maybe more. The he comes home, towels off and toddles outside to dig a ditch in the full sun or some other such madness. After nearly fifteen years of marriage I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that he does it just to watch me get mad. Because ooh I get mad watching him galavanting out there in the heat like the mercury is narry a notch above sixty. He gets sweatier and happier and I turn into the mean old troll hag under the bridge. “What’s for dinner? Cold salad with cold dressing and some lunch meat. That’s what!”

Heat saps my energy, my mental function, my patience, my strength -and most unforgivably- my appetite. It is the one thing in the world with the power to make me lose my insatiable hunger. And that. just. isn’t. cool.

There is one evergreen craving that stays with me whatever temperature the thermometer is pushing; sweets. But I don’t want to spend hours or even halves of hours standing over something else that’s radiating heat (OVEN). And so? And so. And so, where was I?*

*I told you it sapped my brain function.

Ah yes, dessert with no blazing inferno of an oven spewing BTUs into my already furnace-like kitchen. Boo, Dante. BOO! You want seven levels of he… (Oh my word, back on track, Rebecca. Don’t scare the nice readers with your heat-rage.) Sweet, cold, creamy chocolate dessert that uses a microwave and and a refrigerator. Just what I need to tame the beast. I present to you “Black Forest Truffle Tart”. And there was much rejoicing.

Here’s what we have going on in this tart. You can start with a pre-made Oreo crust (or the off-brand equivalent) or you can make like me and fashion your own because really -and you know I wouldn’t mess with you when it comes to cooking in the heat- it only takes about two more minutes and no extra heat. (Psssst. It’s cheaper that way, too. Plus you get leftover cookies that you can stick in the freezer and nibble surreptitiously while the kids aren’t looking.) Into it goes a whipped ganache* filling that is topped with sweet black cherry pie filling**.

*Ganache, in case you haven’t become acquainted yet, is a chocolate confection given to us by God in his infinite love for mankind. In its purest form, it is simply chocolate melted with heavy cream then whisked until silky and shiny. It is the base for all chi-chi chocolate truffles that cost a bajillion dollars for six at chocolatiers. Master this and you will live happily ever after. Or at least until you run out of chocolate and heavy cream.

**Now I know I’m putting the cart before the horse with this post, but I prefer to use (surprise) homemade pie filling I’ve canned myself. I am, truly I am, going to share my homemade pie filling recipe this week. But this is an emergency. It’s hot. And I KNOW I can’t be the only mean old crab-a-lanche out there who needs some sweet chocolatey goodness to feel human again. So if you need to -or want to- make this with store-bought pie filling go for it! My pie filling recipe will be up by Thursday.

While this tart is stupendous cold, it is also pretty spectacular at room temperature. Assuming, that is, room temperature is not EQUATORIAL room temperature. If you asked my inner pastry-chef, I’d tell you it’s better at room temperature because the chocolate has a fuller flavor. If you asked my outer whiner who is apt to be laying on the linoleum under the ceiling fan with a spray bottle of cold water, I’d say eat it cold. Either way, you’ll love it.

Oh. A word. It’s pretty rich. Not that I have a problem with that. At all. Just sayin’ keep those slices on the thin side. That way, when you go back in to the refrigerator for your third or fourth slice, you won’t be wracked with guilt. I’m always looking out for you. Even when I’m sweaty and crabby.

For a printer friendly, photo-free version of this recipe minus crabby, click here!

Black Forest Truffle Tart

Ingredients:

1 Oreo pie crust (or see instructions below for making your own)
1 1/2 cups (12 fluid ounces) heavy cream
12 ounces chocolate chips
2 cups chilled sweet cherry pie filling

Place heavy cream and chocolate chips into a microwave safe bowl. Microwave on high for one minute. Leave in the microwave with the door shut for five minutes afterward. Remove bowl and whisk until smooth and shiny. It will go through a very raggedy looking stage where you will think I’ve steered you wrong. Keep whisking in a circle. I promise it’ll all work out. When it becomes shiny and smooth put the bowl and whisk in the refrigerator. Remove the bowl from the refrigerator every fifteen minutes and give it a good stir with the whisk. After about forty five minutes to an hour, you’ll feel the ganache beginning to thicken up. It should be cool to the touch all the way through.

Scrape the contents into the bowl of your stand mixer. (Alternately, you can use a hand-mixer or whisk the tar out of it by hand, but that’s rather defeating the purpose of not getting sweaty in the kitchen. Dontcha think?) Turn the mixer on high and go just until the ganache starts becoming fluffy and thickened. If you go beyond this stage you will have made what is effectively chocolate butter. Mind you, that’s not necessarily a problem, but it’s not what we’re shooting for here.

Use a rubber spatula to transfer the contents to your pie crust and smooth the top. Spread the pie filling over the top of the ganache and chill the pie until the ganache is set up. This will take about thirty minutes.

Slice into thin wedges and serve, if desired, with whipped cream. Normally I’m an all-whipped-cream-all-the-time gal, but this tart brings out my purist tendencies. My inner pastry chef is begging for a word with you. She says if you want to get the fullest flavor from your tart you will leave the slices on the plates for at least ten minutes prior to serving. I say she’s nuts. Eat it cold!

Homemade Chocolate Cookie Crust

Ingredients:

Half of a package of Oreo type cookies (or Newman’s O’s or Hydrox, whatever flicks your bic.) I like to use the chocolate cream filled ones for a double dose of chocolate.
3 Tablespoons melted butter

Crush the cookies in a zipper top bag or pulse until finely crushed in a food processor. Mix the melted butter in with a fork and press into a pie plate or removable bottom tart pan. That’s all there is to it!

Bacon, Gorgonzola, Avocado and Basil Pasta

Warning: The following post and recipe make liberal and unabashed use of strong smelling blue cheese, smoky bacon and bacon fat, pungent onions, highly aromatic basil, odiferous garlic and creamy avocado. If you are at all adverse to stanky foods, you may want to look at the pretty pictures and skip the verbiage.

This is a blueprint on how to make me happy. Just in case you were wondering.

The formula is simple and scientific:

Pasta + (Crispy Bacon + (Bacon Fat/Onions) + Gorgonzola + Avocado + Basil + Garlic) = Infinite Goodness

By way of proof, I offer this photographic evidence.

Just try to break down my theory now. I dare you.

Still not convinced? I’ll expound. Perfectly ripe avocado, crispy bacon, onions cooked in a hint of bacon fat, Gorgonzola cheese, garlic and freshly snipped basil stirred into freshly cooked, hot al dente pasta with a splash of red wine vinegar; the avocado melts around the pasta forming a delicate creamy sauce. Oh yes. It’s true. It forms its own sauce. Contented sigh.

This is my new favorite pasta dish. We’re talking flavor -big flavor- with very little effort. In heat and humidity like this everyone needs a spectacular meal that delivers with very little at-the-stove time; this is that dish.

If you’re not in the blue-cheese lovers’ camp, there is probably nothing I can say to you at this point to make you want this (unless the word ‘bacon’ trumps everything else, in which case I bid you welcome.) But if you, like me, salivate at the mention of Gorgonzola then you might just be sitting there yelling, “Quit the yackety and get on with the recipe. I want my fix!”*

*I may have actually yelled that at the computer once when someone got rather verbose about a blue cheese popover that I was desperate to try.

I’ll quit the yackety in a moment, but I just have to remind you that I have five little boys and my conversations ‘with’ them go something like this.

Me: “Hey guys! Could you please come empty the dishwasher for me? I could use a little help before dinner.”

Guys: “Which was your favorite assistant on Dr. Who?”

Me: “Um, Amy, I guess. Now can you get the dishwasher?”

Guys: “Did you know I can do this with my eyelids?”

Me: “Stop it.”

Guys: “Can we go run around the house naked?”

Me: “Dishwasher.”

Guys: “Have you seen that snake I brought in the house? I can’t believe I lost him. He was huge!”

Me: “Eep!”

Guys: “I’m hungry. And I think I can sing The Star Spangled Banner like a robot in Pig Latin.”

Me: (Whimper)

Begrudging me the yackety will result in me having very little sane, adult conversation in the course of the day. You wouldn’t want me to regress would you? *

*There might be some who would argue that it is already too late since I’m employing the terms ‘yackety’ and ‘stanky’ and ‘I dare you’ in a food piece. To them, I stick my thumb firmly on my nose, wiggle my fingers and blow a giant raspberry in their general direction.

So, since you’re indulging me, can I show you a couple pictures of some of my basil plants? They’re growing like crazy plants out there.

We have the Genovese Basil. Lovely classic basil.

And two of the four funky varieties given to me by my friend, Deb; Ararat Basil… (Look at how gorgeous it is with the purple stems and veins.)

This pretty little thing is Sweet Dani Basil. This particular plant came from a clipping Deb kept alive in a pot on her windowsill all winter long. Hearty stuff for such delicate flavor.

Basil is a star in this dish, and this dish came about largely because I put in, ahem, 18 basil plants. I was desperate for fresh basil after that long basil-free winter. Does it show? But now I have basil coming out of my ears and I’m trying to make meals that make ample use of my new-found herbal wealth. Multi-tasking. It’s what’s for dinner.

One more thing. Avocados, once they are cut, age about as gracefully as Lindsay Lohan. The day it’s made, it’s both pretty and delicious. So for the best looks, eat this the day it’s made. As leftovers, it will still taste fabulous; it just won’t look great.

For a photo-free, printer-friendly version of this recipe, click here with wild abandon.

Bacon, Gorgonzola, Avocado and Basil Pasta

Ingredients:

1 pound uncooked small shaped pasta (fusilli, farfalle, penne, wagon wheels, etc…)
1 pound bacon, sliced into 1/2″ strips
2 small cooking onions, peeled, cut in half and sliced into half-moons
1 very ripe avocado, peel and pit removed and discarded
1/2 cup lightly packed basil leaves, snipped or very thinly sliced
1/2 cup crumbled Gorgonzola cheese
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced, or 1 teaspoon garlic paste
2 Tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Bring a gallon of water to a full rolling boil in a large stockpot. Salt the water and pour in the pasta. Cook to al dente according to package directions.

Add the bacon strips to a large, heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat. Stir the bacon and cook until crispy. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the bacon to a paper towel lined plate. Pour all but about 2 teaspoons of the bacon fat into a jar*.

*You know what I’m going to say right? Go on, say it with me, “SAVE THAT BACON FAT!” Pop a lid on that jar of bacon fat and stash it in the refrigerator. You never know when it might come in handy.

Return the pan to the burner over medium heat and add the onions to the pan with a pinch of salt. Stirring frequently, cook until the onions are crisp tender (about 5 minutes) and golden in color. Transfer the onions to a large mixing bowl.

Pour the lemon juice over the two halves of avocado. Coarsely chop the avocado and add to the bowl with the onions. Stir to combine. Add the red wine vinegar, garlic, and all but 2 tablespoons each of the crispy bacon, snipped basil and the Gorgonzola cheese and stir well again.

Drain the pasta and add to the avocado mixture. Stir in gently but thoroughly to distribute the sauce. Taste and adjust seasonings with salt and black pepper. Top the pasta with the reserved basil, bacon and Gorgonzola cheese and serve warm or room temperature.

Shoot yeah. Keep on growing, basil…

Rum Soaked Preserved Cherries and Boozy Cherry Molasses

Cherry season usually gets away from me. It seems like I find out cherries are on about twelve hours before the end of the (what feels like a twenty four hour) season. I usually manage to get one or two glorious pounds. We dispatch of those quickly with a manic eating and pit spitting binge that ends not with the jars and jars of pie filling and preserved cherries that I wanted but with pink stained lips and teeth and hands. Then I sigh, promise myself I’ll get the jump on it next year and wait semi-patiently for blueberry season where I compensate by picking about a hundred pounds of blueberries.*

*Would that I were joking. I put up in the neighborhood of 100 hand-picked pounds of blueberries every year. We were talking cherries, though, weren’t we?

But not this year. Oh no. Not this year. This year, thanks to my good friend Lisa, I heard about an almost unbelievable deal from one of our local Amish bulk stores. They were putting together a group order of cherries; sweet dark cherries, freshly picked, for $0.95 per pound. And what’s more, they would be getting sour cherries, already pitted, in a couple weeks time for $1.26 per pound. I ordered thirty pounds of sweet darks and thirty pounds of sours. I didn’t just get a jump on it. I bungeed. Off a cliff.

The results of my cherry preserving bender are nothing short of lip-smacking and I’ll be sharing all of the recipes over the next couple weeks. Some of the recipes require fresh cherries, some require frozen and some can take advantage of fresh, frozen or canned cherries; I’ll start with the ones that use the fresh cherries first. Aren’t I logical?

First up is a two-fer; Rum Soaked Preserved Cherries and Boozy Cherry Molasses. Rum Soaked Preserved Cherries are exactly what they sound like. They are cherries soaked in a rum-heavy sweetened syrup. And they are heavenly. These tipsy little beauties can be eaten straight from the jar, added to baked goods, used to garnish drinks (think Maraschino cherries, but delicious and all natural), or perched on top of a scoop of ice cream that has been drizzled with the happy side-product of their creation; Boozy Cherry Molasses (a jewel-toned rum and Kirsch fortified, thick, sweet, intensely cherry syrup boiled down after making Rum Soaked Preserved Cherries.) What do you do with the Cherry Molasses? It’s a chameleon, I tell you. Pour it over ice cream, brush it on grilled pork or venison, eat it from a spoon.

You have some decisions to make when you start with these; stems or no stems and pits or no pits. I prefer to leave mine with stems and pits intact. I think it makes for a prettier finished product but I’m not all flash and no substance; leaving the pits intact imparts a gentle almond flavor and leaving the stems on gives each cherry a built-in handle for removal from the jar. If you want to remove the stems and pits, go for it! I’ve included the different quantities needed for both versions.

For a printer-friendly, photo free version of this recipe, click away!

Rum Soaked Preserved Cherries

Adapted from the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving (See here to learn more about the book.)

Yield: about 4 (8 ounce) jars.

Ingredients:

1 cup granulated sugar
2 cups water
6 1/2 cups cherries with pits and stems intact (5 cups of cherries if you remove stems but leave pits intact, 7 1/2 cups of unpitted cherries if you wish to pit and stem them before preserving)

Per Jar:

1 1/2 Tablespoons Golden Rum

Prepare your jars and lids. If you wish to make the cherries shelf-stable, please also prepare your canner.

Place a stainless steel or non-reactive stock pot over medium-high heat; add the sugar and water to the pot and stir to dissolve the sugar. Bring the syrup to a boil and add all of the cherries immediately. Return to a boil while stirring constantly. Reduce the heat and allow to remain at a gentle boil for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat.

Using a slotted spoon and a wide-mouthed funnel, transfer the hot cherries from the hot syrup into the jars, leaving 1/2 of an inch of head space (the space between the rim of the jar and the food). Add 1 1/2 Tablespoons of Golden Rum to each jar, then spoon or ladle the hot cherry syrup into the jar, maintaining the 1/2 of an inch of head space.

Insert a chopstick or skewer down the insides of the jar to remove air bubbles. If necessary, add more cherry syrup to keep that 1/2 of an inch of head space.* Wipe the rims of the jars, center the lids on the jars and screw down the rings until finger-tip tight.

*Hang on to that leftover hot syrup and leave it in the pan; that’s the most important part of the Boozy Cherry Molasses! You can either make the Boozy Cherry Molasses right away, or pop the pan into the refrigerator to complete later.

You can either refrigerate the cherries in the syrup for up to a month or you can process them in a boiling water canner to make them shelf stable for a year. I prefer to can them.

To process them, place the jars in a stockpot or canner, covering them by 1-2 inches of warm tap water. Cover the pot and bring to a boil. When the water is at a rolling boil (a boil that cannot be stirred down), begin timing and allow to process for 10 minutes. After 10 minutes, remove the lid to the pot, turn off the heat, wait 5 minutes and then lift the jars straight from the water and place them carefully on a cooling rack positioned over a towel. Do not tilt the jars (it interferes with the natural formation of a vacuum which is one of the things that keeps the food safe and shelf-stable!)

Cool, undisturbed, for 24 hours. As the jars cool, you will hear a popping sound. That is the sound of the lids sealing. That is what you want to hear. Check the jars after 24 hours. If any of them have not sealed, simply store in the refrigerator. Wipe the jars clean and label them before storing in a cool, dry place (like a cupboard.)

Boozy Cherry Molasses

Yield: Between 1 1/2 and 2 (8 ounce) jars

Ingredients:

Remaining hot cherry syrup from making Rum-Soaked Preserved Cherries

Per Jar:

1 1/2 Tablespoons Golden Rum
1 teaspoon Kirsh (or other cherry liqueur)

Place the remaining cherry syrup back over the burner over medium-high heat and return to a boil. Lower the heat to medium-low and maintain a gentle boil until syrup is reduced by half (or more, depending on how thick and concentrated you want the syrup.) The syrup should fall slowly from the spoon when thickened and leave a clear trail when you draw your finger across a spoon that was dipped into it. But do be careful. Hot sugary syrups are, well, HOT! Be patient. Wait before testing! When the syrup is thickened to your liking remove from heat.

Prepare your jars and lids. If you wish to make the syrup shelf-stable, please also prepare your canner.

Add the Golden Rum and Kirsh to your jars and ladle the thickened syrup into the jars to within 1/2 an inch of the rims. Wipe the rims, center the lids on the jars and screw the rings on until fingertip tight. I usually process this in a boiling water bath along with the Rum Soaked Preserved Cherries, but if you opted to save the hot cherry syrup and complete the task later, boiling water processing is optional. As with the preserved cherries, you can store the Boozy Cherry Molasses in the refrigerator or process them for one year’s worth of shelf stability. If you opt to can them, the directions are as follows.

Just look at this elixir poured over chocolate ice cream.

And ooh boy, how about doing this?

Go on. You know you want some…

Oh. I’m sorry. You can’t taste it through the computer? I guess you’ll just have to make some. You’ll be happy you did. Now pardon me, please. I have to finish off this bowl of ice cream before it melts or I do.

Cranberry Coleslaw

After my admonition to remember coleslaw and beans in the Corn Dog Bread post I realized something; I had loads of bean recipes here on Foodie With Family, but not one single coleslaw. That was a problem requiring an immediate remedy.

You will note that the word ‘law’ is contained within the word ‘coleslaw’. That is because it is the law that you need to have coleslaw with summer classic meals; corn dogs, barbecued brisket or ribs, grilled chicken, and the like. You can even go to jail if you fail to serve coleslaw with hamburgers*!

*That might not be strictly true, but it should be.

How have I gone so long without sharing my favorite coleslaw recipe with you? I should be strung up by my toes and given fifty lashes with a wet noodle. I am contrite.

This recipe came to me years ago from Val and we’ve been making it religiously ever since. I should have the recipe memorized at this point, but the little cobwebby corners of my brain have been filled with knowledge helpful to tasks like not tripping over shoes in the middle of the floor, remembering to sweep the chair free of Legos before lowering myself into it, making the kids lock the chickens safely in the coop at night, and releasing the parking brake before easing Hannibal* out of the driveway.

*Hannibal is the new-to-us big burgundy passenger van we recently acquired. It’s big, people. Big big. As in crossing the Alps on an elephant big. In fact, one friend pointed out how we would be providing a boost to the economy every time we filled the tank. And her son helpfully mentioned that if I ever got confused after shopping I would have no trouble finding the van since all I had to think was, “Oh! I know! It’s the MASSIVE PURPLE VAN! It’s right THERE!” And I feed this child on occasion. Why I oughta…

As I was saying, I should have this recipe long since memorized. This means that I do not. Thankfully, Val is on my speed dial. I use this speed dial very, very often. In fact, the number assigned to her on my phone is starting to wear off and the phone is less than two months old. My itchy dialing finger may account for the fact that Val dropped her phone into the toilet this week thereby rendering the boys and me incapable of annoying her every fifteen minutes with ridiculous puns and questions like, “Do you remember that one thing we ate that one time at that one place? Do you still have the recipe for it?”

Mercifully, step-maternal guilt kept her from happily taking a breather from our near-constant barrage against her peace; she kept her email window open the whole time. And so, not even five minutes after a panicked email reading something like this:

“Hey! Remember the cranberry coleslaw you make? Do you still have the recipe? I can’t find mine anywhere!”

Val kindly responded with the necessary ingredient list and equally kindly avoided mentioning that she gives me this recipe once quarterly on average. And once again, she saved my dinner and life was good.

At least you didn’t know what you were missing, because if you’ve been having plain old coleslaw all this time, you are about to be pleasantly surprised. I’m talking about Cranberry Coleslaw. I have to admit, the first time Val made this lo these many years ago I thought maybe she had jumped the shark. The thought of stirring dried cranberries and almonds or sunflower seeds into a creamy coleslaw momentarily fired up my latent inner picky-eating 8 year old. But then I remembered that Val has never -for as long as I have known her- presented me with something to eat that was anything shy of delicious. After the first bite I stuffed my inner picky eater back into the box with a stern warning and a reminder that I’m a grown up now. I was convinced. Cabbage and dried cranberries were meant to be together. Sweet and tart cranberries turned out to be the perfect pairing for peppery and crunchy cabbage. And when it was topped with a tangy, slightly honey-sweetened dressing and almonds or sunflower seeds it absolutely sang. Who knew? Well, I mean aside from Val?

Are you ready for my usual “But wait! There’s more!”? It’s healthy! It’s really, really good for you. Because you replace all but a minute amount of the normal mayonnaise with Greek yogurt this is a coleslaw that you can eat with reckless abandon*. By using Greek yogurt, you preserve all the creaminess you would’ve had with mayonnaise but avoid all the fat and calories. Can I get a “Glory, hallelu!”?

*I know, I know. I say that a lot. But I like eating with reckless abandon, so in all likelihood I’ll keep saying it. Just so’s you know…

You can definitely do worse things than make a double batch. It tastes better and better in the refrigerator. In fact, as I type this, I’m tucking into a bowl of three day old coleslaw and it. is. amazing. So if you were looking for a good coleslaw (or even if you weren’t) to go with your Corn Dog Bread, look no further.

For a printer friendly, photo-free version of this recipe, click here!

Cranberry Coleslaw: Printer Friendly Version

Adapted from Valerie Daly’s recipe

Ingredients:

1 pound bagged cabbage and carrot coleslaw mix (or 6 cups mixed shredded cabbage and carrots)
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
1 Tablespoon mayonnaise
1 Tablespoon honey
1 Tablespoon lemon juice or white wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon celery seed
1/4 cup plus 1 Tablespoon dried cranberries
2 Tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon shelled sunflower seeds or slivered almonds

Use a whisk to combine yogurt, honey, lemon juice (or vinegar), salt, pepper, and celery seed to make the dressing. Set aside.

Add coleslaw vegetables to a mixing bowl. Toss in 1/4 cup of the cranberries and 2 Tablespoons of the sunflower seeds. Pour the dressing over the slaw and toss to coat completely. Transfer to a serving dish and scatter reserved cranberries and sunflower seeds over the top. Store leftovers, tightly lidded, in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

Corn Dog Bread

Summer and corn dogs are like winter and hot cider; you just hafta.

What is is about corn dogs that is so appealing? Is it as simple as the whole “food on a stick” universal truth*? Or is it more complicated? Maybe it comes down to the crazy appeal of the hot dog itself. Perhaps it’s the hint of honey in the crispy-exterior, moist-interior cornbread. Could it be the cultural association of fairs and festivals and carnivals and summer fun in sultry heat? The vinegar bite of yellow mustard dripping down the corn dog? I don’t know. All I know is that when you say ‘corn dog’ I make like Pavlov’s loyal companions and drool.

Alas, having chosen to live in the middle of nowhere as I have done, I don’t often stumble across carnivals and their vittles. And I won’t settle for satisfying my corn dog cravings with an uninteresting box of frozen mystery hot dogs covered in cloyingly sweet cornbread batter*. The only solution is to take matters into my own hands.

*I know that fairs and carnivals probably aren’t serving up Zweigle’s or Nathan’s or Hebrew Nationals in their corn dogs, but somehow the ambiance of a fair makes up for it. I just don’t have the carnival barkers, brightly colored tents or enough tattoos to compensate at home.

Corn Dog Bread is the quickest, easiest, tastiest way to fill that corn dog shaped void in my psyche. Of course, being unable to restrain myself, I added a few flourishes to the corn dog bread that bring it more into my wheelhouse; stoneground cornmeal, candied jalapenos and chopped onions. But friends? If you want the real deal, the most honest representation of corn dogs without a stick that you can possibly get, just go au naturel; use good old yellow cornmeal from the round canister and ix-nay the jalapenos and onions. I won’t be hurt.

It goes without saying (but I’ll say it anyway) that this is the ultimate in kid-of-all-age-friendly food. Cut up into squares, it’s easily tucked into a bag to take with you to baseball practice, on a picnic, at the drive-in theater or just out on the front porch enjoying that sweet summer breeze. And this is easily turned into a vegetarian-friendly entrée by swapping out the hot dogs for veggie dogs. Please ‘em all, I say!

Whichever way you make it, spicy or plain, serve with a plate piled with barbecue beans and coleslaw for the ultimate summer meal.

For a photo-free, printer-friendly version of this recipe, click here!

Corn Dog Bread

Ingredients:

1 cup (4.25 ounces by weight) all purpose flour
3 cups stoneground cornmeal (15 ounces by weight) (You can use regular yellow cornmeal, but be sure not to use self-rising cornmeal here!)
1-1/2 teaspoon baking soda
4 teaspoons baking powder
3 Tablespoons honey
2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon granulated garlic (garlic powder)
1/4 teaspoon granulated onion (onion powder)
4 eggs, beaten
6 Tablespoons melted butter
2-1/2 cups buttermilk (Don’t forget how easy it is to make your own real buttermilk!)
8 hot dogs, sliced into 1/4-inch rounds (You can use leftover grilled hot dogs or fresh hot dogs; either is fine!)

Optional, but tasty:

1/2 a cooking onion, peeled and chopped finely
2 Tablespoons Candied Jalapeno or pickled jalapeno rings ~or~ 1 fresh jalapeno, sliced into 1/8-inch rounds

Preheat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a 9-inch by 13-inch baking dish and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, cornmeal, soda, powder, salt and sugar with a whisk. In a medium sized bowl or large liquid measuring cup, whisk together the eggs, melted butter and buttermilk. Pour the liquid mixture into the dry mixture and stir lightly until the batter has mostly come together but still has some small lumps (Grandma’s notes specify to use a whisk. I do what Grandma says. It’s always for the best.)

Fold the sliced hot dogs and onions (if using) into the batter gently just until combined. Scrape the batter into the greased baking dish and level the top. If using the jalapeno rings, arrange evenly over the top of the batter. Slide the baking dish into the oven and bake for 30 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and it tests done*.

*A toothpick or cake tester stuck into the center of the bread will come out clean.

Slice into squares and serve warm or room temperature with the usual corn dog accompaniments -mustard, ketchup, and hot sauce- or not.

…Whatever you do, and however you make it, don’t forget those Barbecue Beans and coleslaw!

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