Freedom from Tyranny, Low Carb Diets, and Recipe Indications

There was A LOT of cooking this weekend, you guys.

Also. IT WAS HOT. 

Put those two together and you get me, in running shorts that have lost the battle with elasticity and a 14 year-old leotard, spinning around the kitchen like a demented ballerina alternately jete-ing to close the oven door with my toe and plie-ing to play Fridge Tetris with twenty different tinfoil wrapped bowls. (All of these, it should be noted, before insertion into the fridge, have their respective contents clearly written on the top with Sharpie and are then organised on the shelves according to date, main food group, and menu pairing.) ORGANISATION IS THE KEY TO SUCCESS, YOU GUYS.

Here's what I would like to think I looked like:

Here's what I really probably looked like:

It was a good thing that our 4th of July guest was not only used to this appearance/behavior, he'd actually seen, I hate to say, much worse. (Demented ballerina actually ranks pretty low on the "how crazy can Beetle go" scale.) 

So Wooster was in no way fazed by waking up from a quick, tranquil nap to the sounds of me screaming obscenities because I had poured boiling water on my own foot. He calmly got up from the couch, sauntered in, said "How we doin' in here?", removed the pot from my hand, got me an ice pack, and drained the pasta - all without missing a beat. This, you guys, is why we're besties. 

SO TO THE FOOD. 

The main criteria for July 4th dinner were as follows:
1. It's bloody hot so the less time spent anywhere near the oven the better.
2. Delicious at room temperature or colder. [see no. 1]
3. Relatively easy in order to maximize time spent on the couch / porch / Netflixing Disney Family movies.

With that in mind . . .

FOURTH OF JULY KICKOFF DINNER

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Tomato and White Bean Pie

Middle Eastern Spiced Spinach, Peas, and Onions over Farfalle

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Caraway Rye Bread

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Finnish Housewife Cookies

The two main courses were, in keeping with the above stated criteria, things I had made before and were easy, things that did not require an oven, and things that were delicious cold. 

TOMATO WHITE BEAN PIE was invented after our Sheepdogging Expedition. Or rather, after the attempted Sheepdogging Expedition that, due to it's failure, needed some serious comfort food therapy. As it turns out however, TWBP is versatile enough that it can range from soothing two severely wounded sheepdog-less souls to being a delicious cold salad-of-sorts that celebrates our nation's Independence. 

I tell you. Tomatoes are capable of pretty much anything.

I made it in a small Le Creuset pan this time, and when it was done stuck it in the fridge for a few hours, bringing it out just before supper was served. Like last time, it definitely doesn't hold a "pie" shape, but honestly, who cares. It's freaking delicious, and the faster you can shovel in large messy spoonfuls, the better. Hey: "When a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security." We set out here to reclaim our rights from "the establishment of an absolute Tyranny" and I don't know a better way to demonstrate that than eating cold tomato pie, in a bowl, with a spoon. Happy Birthday, America. 

MIDDLE EASTERN SPICED SPINACH, PEAS, AND ONIONS OVER FARFALLE

Again, an already made dish from the ever-wonderful Martha Rose Shulman's blog, tweaked a tiny bit to accommodate the classic summer-staple Garden Peas, and served over Farfalle pasta. (Just reduce the broth / water ratio to make it a bit drier.) Same as TWBP above, make it a little ahead of time and let it cool in the fridge. 

We INHALED this the last when I first made it, and it did not disappoint this time round, either. The spices are strong but not overpowering, and because it's cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, etc., you get "warm earthy" as opposed to "omg my head is on fire." Served over something neutral and carby like pasta, it's absolutely perfect. If you have managed to strain the pasta without severely burning your left instep, then toss it in a bit of olive oil and salt and have it ready to go. Also pat yourself on the back, because you are not an enormous idiot. 

Beetle Note: After the pasta is gone, this makes a stellar stand-alone cold veggie salad. 

CARAWAY RYE BREAD

So of course there had to bread. 

THERE ALWAYS HAS TO BE BREAD, YOU GUYS. DON QUIXOTE WAS RIGHT. 

All sorrows really ARE less with bread.

For the time being, I'd black-breaded myself out. But I felt certain that ol' Beatrice had a few loaves up her sleeve, (probably literally) and so turned so my version of the Bible: The Finnish Cookbook. I opened the book to one of my little sticky out torn scraps of paper, and, I swear, you guys, it was like a shaft of Northern Light had come from the Arctic Circle, and I could hear choirs of reindeer bellowing in exultation. CARAWAY RYE BUNS. At the top of the page, underneath the heading, was written "These are excellent sliced and served with mustard and sausages." 

AND THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED TO DO FOR FRIDAY NIGHT DINNER. 

See? I told you. Beatrice is THE SH*T. 

I made Caraway Rye Buns for May Day Breakfast to great acclaim. Why not make them into three glorious Caraway Rye loaves? [see above re: tyranny, despotism, throwing off such Government, etc.] WHY NOT? 

Bread that says "WHY NOT INDEED?"

And now we pause for a bread slideshow: 

When it's 32 degrees Centigrade outside, THIS is how much your dough rises. 

And punching it down becomes insanely satisfying.

Someday I will learn to X it without puckering the top. SOMEDAY. 

X Marks the Spot! In my stomach. 

This one came out particularly rustic looking. I think Beatrice would approve. 

The Bun recipe makes enough dough for three large loaves. They spread out pretty flat on the baking sheet, and come out really crusty (and awesome as a result). Another fun fact: the rising / resting / baking time remains the same whether you are making buns or loaves. I was ready to pull them out of the oven or leave them in longer, but they were browned and hollow-sounding right on time. 

Thank you, Beatrice. I love you. 

FINNISH HOUSEWIFE COOKIES

So little. So tasty. 

These are the best cookies ever, for multiple reasons. Delicious, ludicrously easy to make, and appropriate for pretty much any season or occasion. These are the ones I stress-baked before I left New York, alone in my kitchen at midnight, surrounded by 300 cookies, making individual tissue paper gift bags for everyone coming to my going-away-dinner. 

Hand-forming 300 tiny little balls of butter and cardamom is very, very, very soothing. 

Before the second powdered sugar bath. 

REAL Finnish Housewives double sugar.

The last time I made these was for my Beetle Bakery Mother's Day bakefest. Of the three cookies on offer to that particular mother, these were the favs.

Wooster, upon being informed in the driveway that they had been baked, immediately made a beeline for the large Tupperware in the cabinet and said (through powdered sugar) "I've missed you so much." 

I also brought the last of them to a dinner party on Saturday night where I watched the hostess (who eats no sugar, carbs, or anything that isn't low-fat protein) put one on the serving dish, one in her mouth, one on the serving dish, one in her mouth . . . 

Now, THAT, dear reader, is freedom from tyranny. Delivered via cookie. 

Take a bow, Beetle.