OMG HELLO and also FRUITCAKE MADE AWESOME

OH DEAR READER WHAT A BIG FEW DAYS IT HAS BEEN.

THINGS I HAVE DONE SINCE MONDAY THAT CAN BE CLASSIFIED AS "BIG THINGS"

• Moved into faculty housing.
• Written ACTUAL UNITS OF STUDY with BULLET POINTS and CURRICULUM TIE INS and WRITING ASSIGNMENTS.
• Scheduled field trips for large groups of students who are actually "MY students."
• Planned PREPARATORY LESSONS for said field trips with CLASSROOM ACTIVITIES and GROUP PROJECTS.
• MET 14 OF MY NEW STUDENTS STUDENTS FOR WHOSE INTELLECTUAL WELLBEING I AM NOW RESPONSIBLE.

You guys. 

THIS IS HUGE. 

This is kind of what I'm doing right now:

This is what I did all afternoon every time one of my girls showed up.
14 times, you guys.
14 times. 

Without gushing too much I will just say that having known them for only a short while, they are all the raddest, most amazing, most WONDERFUL TEENAGERS IN THE UNIVERSE and I can't really deal with how perfect everything is all of a sudden. [see above] 

OTHER THINGS I HAVE DONE SINCE MONDAY THAT ARE NOT "BIG THINGS" BUT STILL NOTEWORTHY

• Been to Lake George
• Google mapped a truly fantastically beautiful run on the first try. [waggles horns]
• Made besties with the campus security so that when I buzz the gym door at 4am they let me in without even asking who it is, and who have given me special inside access to the gym circuit breakers so that I can turn the lights on in the spin studio a solid two hours before they "open" it. [waggles horns again]
• Been to Target TWICE
• Not gotten a sunburn even though OMG YOU GUYS ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THIS HEAT AND BLINDING SUN I CAN'T DEAL ANYMORE.
• Realised, without a shadow of a doubt this time, that I've passed through Middle Age Town without actually being aware of being in it in the first place, and gone directly to Old Lady City. Where I now will now reside. In perpetuity. 

Allow me to elaborate.

I was stretching in the spin studio, and there was an adorbs girl in there too who was part of the traditional summer camp the school runs concurrently to my programme. She'd hooked up her iphone to the sound system, so for 10 minutes our workout playlists were competing.

You guys, you are officially a permanent resident of Old Lady City (and possibly chairman of the Town Planning Commission) when Peter Day's World of Business' discussion of the upholding of Barclay's $450 million fine for electricity price manipulation is competing with the chorus of Taylor Swift's I Knew You Were Trouble.

Allow me to elaborate again.

This is what I was listening to. 

This is Taylor Swift.

So in summation, dear reader. I'm FREAKING OUT with excitement and happiness at how amazing this summer is going to finish up. I'm not going to get skin cancer. I have new running shorts that are bright green with mesh lace inserts on the side. And I am old old old old OLD. 

I must also tell you that I will absolutely post pictures of this campus (which is maybe really Hogwarts in disguise?) with owls and gargoyles and everything, and also of our faculty house which has A BRIDGE THAT YOU HAVE TO WALK OVER TO GET TO THE FRONT DOOR. A PROPER STONE BRIDGE. THAT MIGHT ALSO HAVE A TROLL UNDERNEATH IT. 

Fantasy Princess excited. Not to be confused with Teacher Excited. 

Now switching gears entirely . . . 

OBVIOUSLY I would not be a good Beetle if I neglected you in the department of "food" and "the part where I make fun of Mum and she is good naturedly resigned about it." 

So in brief, and since I'm CLEARLY on a bullet point kick:

BEETLE AND MUM WEEKEND OF AWESOME IN WILLIAMSTOWN ON THE WAY TO TROY, NY

• The suspension on the car rides pretty low because of the roughly 500 pounds of Bran Crispbread in the trunk, all of which I will eat over the next four weeks.
• I consume an unhealthy amount of veggie sushi.
• I buy Mum socks with glow-in-the-dark constellations on them.
• I buy 10 new books even though I packed 15 plus my Nook plus my new Windows 8 Nook App plus the school has a huge library.
• We watch American Girl: Saige Paints the Sky on NBC in the hotel room. In our pajamas. Eating chocolate chip cookies (her) and cinnamon oatmeal (me). 
• I google map another fantastically beautiful run on a street called Bee Hill Road that, I swear to GOD, was actually in Hobbiton.
• Given the above, I have an early morning running fantasy where I am Bilbo, Merry, Pippen, Arwen, Galadriel, Marianne Dashwood, Ronia the Robbers' Daughter, and Katniss Everdeen all at the same time. Which is to say . . . AWESOME. 
• Trash talk the hell out of Williams because . . . WELLESLEY. THAT'S WHY. 

That's right.

And DUH I would never leave for four weeks without first baking for my Lovely Librarians, and also cooking literally the entire contents of our fridge for Mum so that she doesn't exist on bread and cheese for the next 60 days. 

First up, dear reader, will be the easiest, bestest, most adaptable-to-any-situation baked good in the HISTORY of said baked goods. 

FRUITCAKE BLONDIES 

BECAUSE "CHOCK FULL BLONDIE SQUARES" DOESN'T SOUND NEARLY AS COOL

Taken from Epicurious.com and adapted because . . . see above. 

It's like a Red Sea of Blondie Awesomeness.

Obvs I wanted to give my Lovely Librarians something so that they wouldn't revolt and leave me whilst I was gone, and obvs I was in the midst of packing literally an entire case of Norwegian Crispbread into the trunk of the car, and also OCD packing my beauty products into separate storage boxes labeled "for use in bathroom" and "for use on dressing table." That being said, this is the perfect solution to that, admittedly rare, problem.

The recipe calls for cherries, and two kinds of raisins, and almonds, and chocolate chips. I had cranberries, and one kind of raisins, and hazelnuts, and chocolate chips. And you know what, IT DIDN'T MATTER. 

This is what "NOT MATTERING" looks like.

All I have to say about this recipe is: 

1. Make it. Tonight, if possible. 

2. Throw in whatever you have in your kitchen. It will work. 

3. Prepare yourself. 

Now if I can just get Mum to differentiate between "brownie" and "blondie" we'll be good.
Because calling them "Blondie brownies" is a paradox of epic culinary proportions.

But baby steps you guys, baby steps. 

Beetle Note: It says at the bottom to "serve with eggnog ice cream" but let's get real here. If for any reason you feel like these aren't decadent ENOUGH, or after consuming one you are left feeling anything other than replete, then let's be honest and say that we're working with a larger overarching issue here and you should probably get that checked out. And maybe pick up some insulin on the way. 

One of the best recommendations I got from a LL was that a SINGLE ONE of these puppies had gotten her through the Brimfield Antiques Market. THE ENTIRE THING.

I mean.

I feel like, given that rating, I should send a box to the Navy Seals for their endurance training days.

ooooooooooo OMG you guys THAT's how Beetle is going to meet her future awesome husband who has a 12-pack and can build a solar panel out of a pine cone. 

FRUITCAKE BLONDIE MEET CUTE, YOU GUYS. 

FRUITCAKE BLONDIE MEET CUTE. 

As I was saying . . .

Ahem. Where was I? Oh yes. 

5TH OF JULY BUT STILL CELEBRATORY SUPPER

Salad of Bulgar, Steamed Green Beans and Kale, Sautéed Fennel

Fried Veggie Sausages with Caramelised Onions

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Caraway Rye Bread

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Rhubarb and Blueberry Crumble

SALAD OF BULGAR, GREEN BEANS, KALE, AND FENNEL

Mum's been on a Grain Salad kick lately. Now, by "kick" I do not mean "cooking a lot of them." I mean, "leaving the Mark Bittman article in the Times magazine out on the kitchen table and saying things like "That looks really good. I'd love to eat that."

Subtlety = not really her strong point

Anyway. The good thing about her newfound obsession is that I totally share it. I LOVE grain salads because they involve two of my favourite things: veggies and carbs. But the best thing about them (as Bittman says and shows with his handy dandy interactive graphic) is that they are so open to experimentation.You can seriously combine almost anything and still come out the other end with something delicious, healthy, and (importantly) pretty. For Mum's birthday I made the Artichoke, Pea, and Fennel salad with Farro which [that's the sound of a Beetle Horn, you guys] was a success. Plus it had the added benefit of serving artichokes to people who (for some reason that still escapes me and probably always will) like them. 

Whatever. 

For this one, I went a bit lighter with the veggies so that the grain could stand out even more. I felt like the Farro had been more of a taste afterthought than a proper ingredient, you know? It was a plus one as opposed to a legit invited guest. 

That decision was really made by the veggies in question: green beans and kale, both of which were delightfully spontaneous choices at the farmstand. There are few things you need to do to either of them to make them better than they are, and a quick steam for both leaves them still crunchy, green, and flavourful. I am always happy when I get green beans that are not cooked to death, and, um, actually still bright green. The kale in question was even cute little baby kale, which is a) adorbs and b) has a much sweeter, lighter taste than its stronger and sometimes bitter older brother. (did I just write a new ABC primetime drama? I think I did.) 

The green beans steamed first, then the kale in two batches (it goes in so big and yet reduces to nothing almost at once) but literally 6 minutes for the green beans and maybe 3 for the kale and the show was over.

Now, steamed veggies are all well and good, and goodness knows I pretty much live off of them, but one does have to have a bit of flavour. And that's where sauteed fennel comes in. First off, Fennel is amazing. Let's just get that out there. It's got that awesome onion / leek undertone but on top there's this amazing licorice sweetness that you don't get with anything else. When you saute it, that sweetness really comes out, and you get something that's almost a caramelised onion but SO MUCH MORE, YOU GUYS. SO. MUCH. MORE. I sliced it fairly thickly, so instead of tiny pieces you really got these hunks of smoky, spicy, sweetness that were perfect with steamed beans and kale. 

I mean we almost didn't need the bulgar . . . but yeah, we did. 

Bulgar has a very nutty taste almost like quinoa but not quite. Sorry, that's a sucky description but I'm not sure how else to phrase it. I guess maybe halfway between quinoa and brown rice? How's that? I hadn't realised but was delighted to discover that Wooster was one of the uninitiated. So the first few minutes of Friday night supper went thusly: 

W: So what's the grain here?

Me: Bulgar.

W: [happily] I've never had this before!

Me: Really? Isn't it so good? 

W: [really happily] It's really good!

[ten minutes go by]

W: [reaching for thirds, CRAZY SUPER HAPPILY] Turns out, I LOVE BULGAR!

So there you have it, dear reader. Put the bulgar on first as it will take about 25 minutes to simmer. Steam the beans and kale and toss them together in a large bowl with a tiny bit of olive oil and salt. Take the bulgar off the heat, make sure all the water has absorbed, and mix that in. Let the fennel cook for about 15 minutes to really get it good and cooked and brown. Then when it's done spread it over the top (if you can avoid eating all of it directly out of the pan, that is, thank goodness it was still hotter than hell when I did it). 

Spread prettily over the top. Like you do. 

FRIED SAUSAGES WITH CARAMELISED ONIONS

I shall not, dear reader, insult your intelligence by telling you how to fry sausages. It's one of the basic skills of like and if you don't know how then a) you probably aren't reading this blog anyway and b) YOU SHOULD REALLY GET ON THAT ALREADY. Again, contents of your sausage is totally up to you. Meat or soy protein, you call it. Both are delicious. And I know I don't have to tell you that caramelised onions are one of the greatest gifts ever given to mankind. Holy Hell they are awesome. 

AWESOME. 

Fry the onions first (I used two small white ones) and throw the sausages on after that so that they can absorb some of the taste. When the sausages are done (cooking time dependent on what kind, obvs) and nice and brown and awesomely-fried looking [see below, these were GLORIOUS] plate them on top so that they can be served up all together. That is the point, after all. 

The accompaniment for these was the Caraway Rye Bread I'd made the day before. The bread that Beatrice said was "perfect for sausages and mustard." So . . . 

BEATRICE DOESN'T JOKE AROUND, YOU GUYS.
SHE WOULD NEVER MAKE A STATEMENT LIKE THAT UNLESS IT WAS TRUE.

And now for pudding . . . 

I'm sure you know where I'm going with this.

And this. 

Yep.

RHUBARB BLUEBERRY CRUMBLE

Again, I've made this before, and it's the basic Joy of Cooking recipe for a fruit crumble, adjusted to my own personal opinions on just how much topping should be involved, and the fruits being used. Here's a link for a close online approximation of what I was working off. The basic idea here, you guys, is that you can't go wrong. You're making something that involves berries, sugar, oatmeal, and cinnamon. You really have to WORK and screwing this one up to the point that it doesn't taste awesome. 

The best part of this crumble is that WE GOT REAL BLUEBERRIES. Allow me to explain. 

These are not blueberries. 

THESE are blueberries. 

The above are giant, tasteless, genetically enhanced THINGS that have nothing to recommend them to the culinary world at large. They are almost always from New Jersey which . . . I'M JUST SAYING. 

The below are perfect, tiny, sweet yet strong MAINE BLUEBERRIES. They are bursting with flavour, and are the only things that I actually consider "blueberries." In Maine, you literally step out your door and there's a bush of them waiting to be picked. And then you can pretend that you are Sal in Blueberries for Sal and eat them all before they hit the bucket and then maybe run into a baby bear except hopefully not because then the Momma Bear would NOT, as Robert McCloskey would have you believe, let you escape alive. She would in fact eat your head. 

[Beetle Note: It must be noted that however much I love blueberries and blueberry picking, I am sorry but One Morning in Maine is SO. VASTLY. SUPERIOR. in terms of literary merit and awesomeness. I know I'm in the minority here but I don't care.] 

It was lucky, therefore, that the farmstand had actual blueberries. Otherwise it would have been a very different crumble. And that would have been sad. 



It's really almost red white and blue . . . HOW ABOUT THAT? 

I ended up doubling the topping because I like a crumble to be nice and covered. Also, it was a lot of rhubarb and a lot of blueberries. I left it in the oven for a bit longer to compensate for enhanced volume, and I can't really say anything but . . . 

I will close with a few pictures of the table:

And also by saying that in keeping with the "Ostensibly Patriotic yet Really Monarchical" Theme of the weekend, we watched a movie based on a French comic book rather than Mariah Carey signing "Hero" Meghan Hilty singing "God Bless America." We did not regret our decision.

So that, dear readers, is the last big post before I GO OFF TO TEACH. I'm headed out Saturday morning and will be setting up my classroom bright and early on Monday. [eep. starts hyperventilating and dies.] 

I shall I think have a few more baked items to share with you in the next week or so, but please don't forget me if I don't have time to chat as much as I do now. I shall be nurturing young minds and training up the future Pulitzers of tomorrow, etc., and I couldn't be more excited. But I don't like neglecting you.  

I hope that you will still love me when I return . . . 

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.