Lord of the Figs: The Return of the Beetle

For the record, this was almost ready to go; recipes loaded, Beetle Notes composed, inadvertent foul language removed, etc. But then . . . well. Put it this way.

MAINE HAPPENED. I ate myself into a lobster coma, I dropped my r's even more than I normally do. I discussed Kate Middleton's wedding gown with my grandmother yet again (consensus remains: sleeves=classy), and watched my nephew photobomb like his life depended on it. I took sunrise beach walks with Mum (see above) and debated who had the prettier footprints, and I acquired several thousand more freckles. This is why this post is only happening today. I hope you'll forgive me.

AND NOW.

The scene is the grocery store, last Sunday afternoon, having just seen Elysium which, go see it. It's awesome.

Me: I'm going to make bread this week, when you finish that caraway loaf.
Mum: The one we got yesterday on the way home? It sucks.

Me: Wait the nice organic one from Williamstown? It sucks?
Mum: It sucks.
Me: Oh. Well I guess I'll make bread tomorrow then.
Mum: I'm going to throw it out, it's inedible, all wet and gross and I can't make toast with it.
Me: I can use it. I'll think of something. [noticing the amount of tomatoes in our shopping cart] Probably something with tomatoes. Hey! Tomato Bread Pudding! Done.
Mum: Wouldn't tomatoes be weird in a dessert?
Me: [massive eye roll] SAVOURY bread pudding. It'll be a dinner pudding.
Mum: Wait but doesn't savoury mean sweet?
Me: [losing power of speech, resorting to more eye rolling and various apoplectic hand gestures]

Anyway, this began under the amused but very confused eye of the 15 year-old boy bagging our groceries, and continued out to the car, where she drove home whilst I Wikipedia-ed the word "savoury" and proved, yet again, that I was right, before we both segued into a discussion on the unfairness of third world medicine, how much the drug companies suck, and just exactly what kind of secret CIA medicinal treatments Dick Cheney must be getting in order to keep his evil, twisted carcass alive. You know, typical Sunday.

TOMATO BREAD PUDDING (or a version thereof)

I debated whether to make scalloped tomatoes with layered bread, a la the Tomato White Bean Pie, but in the end came down on the side of custard makes everything better and also I wanted to try something new. I found a recipe for Tomato Bread Pudding at epicurious.com that at first glance looked normal and sane. It wasn't until I printed it out, got into the kitchen, and actually took a good hard look at it that I realised it was . . . shall we say . . . overly complicated to the point of a personality disorder. For a pie that serves 8 people, that's a hell of a lot of cream and milk and holy hell EGGS and also 10 cups of bread? Really? I like bread probably more than the average person, but even to me that seems excessive. ALSO. IS IT NECESSARY TO ROAST YOUR TOMATOES AND GARLIC FOR AN HOUR BEFORE YOU EVEN BEGIN COOKING THE PUDDING PART, WHICH ALSO TAKES AN HOUR?

Exactly. Psych consult, party of one? Your table's ready.

My version (tasteless bastardization that it is) is significantly more slapdash and more Hillbilly Beetle. But it was pretty easy, and didn't take a lot of time and / or crazy skills, and it's pretty tasty. So. There you have it. Talk to the hand, Gourmet. 

Actually, don't. Please come back into circulation I love you so hard I miss you. 


HILLBILLY BEETLE VERSION PLUS NOTES

• 3 small containers cherry tomatoes, in red and orange and yellow
• Fresh Basil, Fresh Thyme (don't be stingy, this recipe can it) 
• Olive Oil
• 1 tbs minced garlic (yes, from a jar. DEAL WITH IT.) 
• Roughly 2 1/2 cups cubed whole wheat caraway bread (there was half a loaf left in the bread bin)
• 1 cup milk
• 3 eggs, beaten
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese plus more for dinner plate sprinkling

Toss the bread cubes with olive oil, garlic, salt, and herbs (mix the garlic into the olive oil first in a little bowl that way it distributes evenly when you toss everything). Toast, frequently shaking the pan, at 400 for about 25 minutes until they are nice and crispy. (I happened to be baking bread at 425 at the same time so I just pulled them out a few minutes early.) 

Whilst they are toasting, in a large bowl combine tomatoes, milk, eggs, and cheese. I was using cherry tomatoes and so I sliced them in half, and left the small ones alone. If you are using larger ones, dice/cut accordingly. But remember that that they will soften deliciously when cooked so don't worry too much about it. (Let's face it, everyone loves a large, soft, charred tomato.)

Combine the bread and the tomato mixture in a baking dish, making sure that everything is evenly coated. FYI I used my brownie pan for this, which had a nice lip to it so everything stayed in place. 

If you need to add more milk, cheese, herbs, tomatoes, now's the time. This is the free-for-all section where you adjust according to your own tastes, pan size, ingredients, etc. It'll all be good, though. I promise.

Bake at 400 degrees for about 40 minutes, until the egg has cooked completely and the top has gone dark and crispy.

I had no grated Parmesan in the fridge so I had to go ACTUAL GRATED.
Almost lost a finger, but it's worth it.

Ask yourself. Do you REALLY need all your fingers to hold a fork?
Exactly. 

BEETLE NOTES

This version needs tweaking, I will be the first to admit that. It needs a bit more flavour, which of course you would get if you preroasted the tomatoes and the garlic for an hour. And I think I might end up doing something along those lines next time. The second night of this I added another handful of tomatoes, more herbs, and also some sliced sausage. That helped in the flavour department. What this version IS is lighter on the eggs and cream and milk. It's a bread pudding, but less emphasis on the "pudding" part. Maybe halfway between a quiche and a pudding? But with bread instead of a crust? A "quidding"? A "puche"? Eh. I'll get there.

Note the dark and crispy.

BREAD COMMERCIAL BREAK!

Hey, Beetle, why did you make what you are calling as of 10 seconds ago

CORNMEAL SANDWICH BREAD?

Well, dear reader, that's an interesting question. Turns out that that's what you end up making with your baking cupboard contains one cup of whole wheat flour, one cup of rough cut cornmeal, and a lot of all-purpose bread flour. Good thing is, it's delicious. Crusty and chewy and and good not just for toast but for dinner purposes as well. Who knew?

WE NOW RETURN TO SCHEDULED BEETLE PROGRAMMING

FIG JAM THUMBPRINT COOKIES

Upon deciding to make Jam Thumbprints, good ol' Martha and I had a confab and she came up with this beauty. It's ostensibly from her Christmas Cookbook, but I feel jam thumbprints should be readily available 365 days a year. I know you probably feel the same way about this.

As usual, the woman knows her sh*t. I have very little to say about this one, except for one, ok, one pretty indignant

BEETLE NOTE

Exhibit A. Distinct lack of dough.

When you read this recipe you will notice at the top of the page that it says "Makes About 3 Dozen". THIS IS A LIE. Allow me to direct your attention to the photo on the right. Do you know what that shows? That shows the amount of dough generated WHEN THE RECIPE WAS DOUBLED. Aaaalllll that metallic space you see? That's a mixing bowl notably EMPTY of cookie dough. I wanted to take a picture of the amount of dough generated when I followed the measurements initially, but it was actually too small to be seen by the naked eye.

So.
Martha.

I love you. You know that. We've had our ups and downs but I like to think we've reached a pretty good understanding at this point. But unless your cookies are LITERALLY  1/2 a nano-millimeter wide (and what kind of person would make those) you need to recheck your figures. I made what I considered to be "normal and perhaps slightly on the conservative side" size cookies, with a double batch, and I didn't get 3 dozen.

I'm just saying. The cookies are DELICIOUS. Absolutely spot on in the Jam Thumbprint department. But let's call a spade a spade, and a measuring spoon a measuring spoon, and stop pretending that we are Kebler Elves. Nobody could get 3 dozen out of that. NOBODY.

They are really, really good though.

And so nice looking. With and WITHOUT jam. 

Though obviously Jam is preferable. 

To be fair, they ARE rather tempting.
And so easy to eat. 

As a matter of fact, when Mum came home the Jam had not yet been spooned in, and there was a small tussle (which, thankfully, Lovely Librarians, I won) during which I reminded her that Thumbprints for Thumbprints' sake were all well and good but that she would enjoy them so much more with Jam. And that she should stop eating empty ones off the cookie sheet.

The Lovely Librarians also gave these the seal of approval. And I'm happy to report that repeats have most definitely been ordered. These are SO quick, SO easy, and SO applicable to whatever jam you have, that (see above, as long as you double the recipe) this one is a keeper for the ages. Thanks, Martha. Love ya.

Side Beetle Note that this dough is pretty similar to a shortbread base. I'm going to try rolling it out in a sheet pan and cutting it into shortbread fingers. (Which I suppose you could always dip in jam if you felt they were lacking that je ne sais quoi, for which you would be totally forgiven.)

Obviously any kind of Jam is good here, and I would be remiss if I did not encourage experimentation. Fig was what came up in discussion, Fig was what we had extra jars of in the cupboards, and Fig happens to be a household favourite chez Beetle. Also, FIGS ARE DELICIOUS. Let's just get that out there. They are good pretty much all of the time, regardless of whether what you are eating is sweet or savoury. I think it's just that depth of sweetness that they have, you know? They're like Dates. They can go with salt or sugar or meat or greens, or whatever else you're making. By token of the fact that they defy categorization, they can fall pretty much anywhere.

Something like a blueberry or raspberry is amazing, obviously, but it's just BAM. SWEET. YAY. and then it's over, and they are almost exclusively relegated to the sweet part of a menu. Their sweetness and yumminess almost feels superficial by comparison.

Wait, did I just call blueberries ditzy? Yes, I think I did.

Final Teaching Notes and HELLO AGAIN KITCHEN I MISSED YOU

Hello, Dear Reader! Or should I say Hello, Dear Reader, from the porch at the farm!

That's right, BEETLE IS HOME!

Ah so much to relate, so much to reflect upon, so much I still have no idea how to process let alone turn it into a coherent (or as coherent as these things get) blog post. Suffice to say, I have spent the time since Saturday evening a) unpacking, refolding, and re-categorizing my drawers b) cooking!!! cooking cooking cooking! c) following my cats around like a pathetic insane lady and picking them up every time they pause to pick them up and bury my face in their necks and go I MISSED YOU SO MUCH d) NOT getting up at 4am to spin and/or run. Enough of that insanity. 5am is nice and normal, thank you very much. 

HOWEVER. I feel I must sum up in some way the last 5 (!!) weeks. 

THINGS I LEARNED AT EMMA WILLARD SCHOOL DURING THE LAST FIVE WEEKS

• How to drive an 11-passenger van on the interstate in the middle of a rainstorm. 
• The blessed and crucial finality of the retort "BECAUSE I SAID SO." 
• People still think that "vegetarian option" means "pasta with tomato sauce that may or may not contain meat."
• Tofu is not something readily available in upstate New York. 
• I have reached an advanced enough age that I actually cannot keep the band members of One Direction straight. This does not actually bother me that much. 
• Girls between the ages of 12 and 16 ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY. 
• NO REALLY. I'M SERIOUS. THEY ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY. 
• See above, when this happens, they lose all ability to function to the point that they lack basic speech and movement skills. The only thing they are capable of doing is saying "OMG I'M SO HUNGRY" over and over and over again until you feed them. 
• If there is a coffee shop somewhere within a ten mile radius of wherever you happen to be, they will find it, go in, and order mocha/soy/latte/cappuccino/cocoa/coffee/chai and return before you've even realised they are missing from your head count. 
• If they are exiting a minivan, and you ask that the last person out close the sliding door behind them, it does not matter how many times you do this, it will not happen. Nope. Ever. Not happening. 
• When you email an assignment sheet to them to read during study hall and come in the next day with "thoughts and questions" you will be greeted the following morning with "wait you sent us an email?"
• I have not lost the ability to liberate food from the dining hall of an educational institution. If anything, my powers have increased with age and importance. Thanks, Wellesley. 
• What I HAVE lost is the ability to share a kitchen with someone who is not Mum. This does not bode well for either my boyfriend Chris Hemsworth OR my husband Bruce Willis. But as long as they stay out and let me clean and disinfect for a large portion of every day, we will be just fine. It's ok, you guys, it's under control. 
• The best feeling on earth is a classroom full of hands and "ooh ooh oohs" because everyone has an opinion about what you are discussing. 
• Second to that is walking into the dining hall and having every one of your students shriek, throw back their chairs, and run at you because they have figured something out they HAVE TO TELL YOU RIGHT NOW OMG. 
• If even a fraction of the happiness I experienced is what's in store for me in the future, then I have made the best decision I have ever made in my entire life. 
• I freaking LOVE teaching. 
• No, really. I LOVE IT SO HARD. 

Like I said, most of what happened is still being processed. So this is just skimming the surface. But what I can tell you, dear reader, is that I loved it I loved I loved it. And I want more. As soon as possible. 

I'M IN, YOU GUYS. ALL IN.

The helpful part of "updates" is that I'm now part of Carney Sandoe, the teacher recruitment agency, which for the first time means it's not just "Hi I'm Beetle I'm really awesome you should hire me even though I have nothing to back this up." It's now coming through an official source. Fingers crossed, this will mean significantly less radio silence on the other side of email, and hopefully a lot less psh say what? on the part of whoever is reading my cover letters. So we wait, dear reader, we wait. And continue to pray to all the known dieties, and occasionally make small, humane, vegetarian, sacrifices. 

BUT NOW TO PARTIES AND SUCH LIKE

Friday, the last day of classes, was spent peer editing followed by GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKE PARTY combined with EXTREME FLOWER CROWN MAKING PARTY. 

I know. It's a lot to process. Take your time. 

So once again, because I love my girls THAT MUCH and because I AM A WARRIOR BEETLE I faced down the Dorm Pit Kitchen in a final epic cupcake battle. It was that or tell them on the last class of the summer that there were no cupcakes. And what kind of teacher would that make me, you guys? What kind of HUMAN BEING would that make me? Nope, it was cupcakes or nothing. Beetle got suited up. 

It was a long and brutal slog, and both sides sustained heavy losses. It was a battle for the history books, chronicled in lore and song, about a Fearless Beetle armed only with a wooden spoon of questionable origin and a saucepan of dubious make, and a Pit Kitchen that with every second seemed more potentially germ-filled and terrifying. Would the cabinets reveal some hitherto unseen horror? Would the counters be mysteriously sticky even after the application of organic cleaner? Would the oven prove recalcitrant and burn the cupcakes in the two minutes it takes to walk down the perilous flight of stairs? WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, DEAR READER? 

I'LL TELL YOU WHAT HAPPENED.

I WIN, DORM PIT KITCHEN. I WIN. 

Thick and Sparkly = The way the top of a cupcake should be.

I used the same recipes as last time, Joy of Baking for Yellow and Chocolate Cupcakes, and replaced regular flour with gluten free. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW I've heard it before. But as I said, I'm not giving ANYTHING to a 14 year old that has psyllium husk in it. It would just be MEAN.

Same for icing, too, just a hell of a lot more.

We've already discussed the importance of frosting to sprinkles. And their relative ratio to cupcake.



I made THREE dozen this time, 2 dozen chocolate and 1 dozen yellow, because the original 24 were gone faster than blinking. So I figured better have MORE than NOT ENOUGH. (see point above about being hungry all the time.)

And nothing says "teenager sad face" like "there aren't any more cupcakes and I really want one."

Thank you for allowing me to be crazy.

I, shockingly, had a few left over. (I'm chalking it up to distraction brought on by flower crowns? It's the only thing I can think of.) So I marched right over to the administration building and gave them to my awesome beyond awesome Security guys, the ones who not only let me into the gym at 4 in the morning, but who only made fun of me a little bit (at least to my face). Both of which were very appreciated.

Cupcakes say that.

In conclusion, GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKES FOR ALL. 


AND NOW FOR EXTREME FLOWER CROWN MAKING 

Remember the flower crowns I made for Midsummer's Eve? These were NOT the same thing. Reasons for that were a) I didn't really feel like picking 8 million wildflowers on the roadside in downtown Troy. Call me crazy. b) I didn't have time for the above. I did have time to go to Party City, however. c) In justifying a and b to myself and trying not to feel horribly guilty for "faking it" I decided that it would be nice to have something you could keep and remember rather than a mass of wilted flowers you'd have to throw away. Did it make me feel better? Slightly. Do I still twitch when I think of it? Maybe a little.

However, the same principle of flower crowns applied. That principle being, essentially let's all pretend we're fairy princesses because we secretly believe that we are. I'd like to state for the record that my girls rose to the occasion magnificently. Sugared out of their minds, they proceeded to make crowns like FAIRY GANGBUSTERS.

Herewith are the backs of their heads, because I'm still neurotic about posting photos of them.

Crepe paper, wire, lots and lots of ribbon.

Lots and lots of fake flowers. 

Basically I cleaned out Party City. They thought I was crazy when I checked out. 

And maybe I was. CRAZY EXCITED THAT IS.
Note the black crepe paper here. This was "goth" fairy.
Respect. 

Mine was significantly less daring, more your average "I'm going to be Galadriel / Arwen for the evening" and since it's hard to take photos of the back of your own head, especially with an SLR, here are some I just took.

There was a significant train of jute involved. Like there would be. 

And of course overlapping leaves. 

I also made a fun ring/bracelet cuff thingy out of leaves, but it's really hard to get a picture of it.
At least one that looks pretty and not like a paper leaf just vomited sparkle wire. 

SO THAT'S THE TEMPORARY END OF BEETLE TEACHING POSTS. (hopefully really temporary . . . ) but console yourselves (and me) with the fact that I cooked all weekend. Yep. Kitchen withdrawl has been addressed. 

Saturday night was EPIC OMELETTE NIGHT. I tried to get a picture but it was eaten almost instantly. All I could manage to understand was Mum through a giant mouthful of the above going "I'm so f**king glad you're home." 

Sunday night was Broiled Herbed Flounder with Spinach and Seaweed Salad. 

I've decided, thanks to a quick flip through of Country Living UK that I am going to start making seaweed a lot more. I'm excited about this. It's delicious and it's actually crazy good for you. Win win, eh? 

Mum came home Monday night to find Top Gear on television, me humming in that maniacally happy way I have done since I was a baby, and to the following:

Fig Jam Thumbprint Cookies

Wheaten French Bread with Cornmeal

Tomato and Garlic Bread Pudding

So get ready, oh my dearest of dear readers. 

BEETLE IS BACK. 

Stories and Symptoms of Kitchen Withdrawl

Before I launch into the food, I must tell you a few Epic Beetle Things that happened this week. I've noticed that since I started teaching and therefore drawing up lesson plans, I tend to bullet A LOT MORE. huh. 

THE WEEK IN BEETLE

• I went grocery shopping and in the baking aisle somehow managed to kick my own shopping trolley really insanely hard? causing an almost instantaneous golf-ball bruise and severe embarrassment when, after getting a look of "are you a paraplegic" from the woman next to me, for some reason I felt the need to apologise to her? I don't know. I just said sorry. And limped off. 
• I got shamed. Not even by Nick the 4am security guy but by the disembodied voice of Nick the 4am security guy when, upon pushing the call button outside the gym on Wednesday morning, was asked, by a metal box with a flashing red light, "Isn't Wednesday your day off?" before apologising (again, why? to a metal box?) and starting to explain that since Thursday was field trip day THAT would be my day off and my day ON would be TODAY before Nick just buzzed me in mid sentence.
• The trailer to Thor The Dark World premiered and I had to be supportive for my boyfriend Chris Hemsworth and watch it a couple hundred times. He was a little worried because there was some talk that maybe his hair was too long? And that it was better hair in the first movie? But I was able to assure him that his hair most certainly wasn't too long, and that it actually looks better than it did before. Especially when it flips over his shoulder when he throws his hammer. He was glad to know that. He feels better now.
• BUT THE BEST ONE. Greatest teacher moment to date. GREATEST MOMENT TO DATE, YOU GUYS, AND THERE HAVE BEEN A HELL OF A LOT IN THE LAST THREE WEEKS. LIKE, MORE THAN I EXPECTED. I gave my girls an essay on Western Standards of Beauty and the Objectification of Women, and I sh*t you not, one of them, at the end of class asked to be excused from her mall shopping trip so that she could keep working on it in her room. I attempted to remain nonchalant as I said "let me ask your res life member" and secured permission for her. I then promptly went back to my faculty apartment, burst into tears of joy, called Mum, cried some more, and posted that sh*t on Facebook. BECAUSE OMG. [Beetle Happy Dance. Hasn't stopped since then. Nope, still doing it.]

OK TO THE FOODZ. 

I was looking through my Warrior Beetle photo files the other day, and came across the ones from the all day Doomsday Preppers cooking marathon I had before I left to teach, the goal of which being to minimize the starvation Mum would undergo during my absence. I would like it on record that when I was done, the three "foods" in the fridge that weren't just-cooked awesomeness (in neat, sharpie-labeled tinfoil packages with combination / order-to-eat instructions, obviously) were mustard, cheddar cheese, and yoghurt. I'm not actually being hyperbolic when I say that, either. The vegetable crisper was EMPTY. WHEN DOES THAT EVER HAPPEN. THINK BACK. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOUR VEGETABLE CRISPER WAS COMPLETELY DEVOID OF VEGETABLES. RIGHT?!?!

I have to hand it to Mum, though, her ability to survive on tomato soup and cheese toast is pretty impressive. It's one of those things that I feel the CIA should include in their training camps, you know? But still, it was four weeks not only without Beetle food but four weeks without Beetle food after 6 months of Beetle food, so I worried that her nutrient-deprivation-coping skills were seriously diminished.

As far as I know, though, she's still alive. At least, I spoke to her this morning, and I figure one of my Lovely Librarians would tell me if she was dying all over the place. (right, you guys??) Granted, when I see her on Saturday, maybe she'll be bent double from scurvy or her hair will have turned white due to lack of protein, or something equally dramatic, but as far as I can tell from over the phone, she hasn't turned into the culinary equivalent of Miss Havisham, wandering around the house, eating näkkileipä she can barely lift to her parched and papery lips, occasionally treating herself to a few frozen edamame and weeping at the memory of once was.

But back to the photos. And the food. And because I'm living in a faculty house with a dorm pit kitchen and honestly, you guys, all I want to do right now is pull out pristine mixing bowls and my pale green mixmaster and make omelettes and sauteed onions and fennel and spinach curry and lentil soup and roasted potatoes . . . OH GOD BEETLE STOP IT. 

So come with me through a torturous yet pretty tour. And keep your fingers crossed that BOTH Mum and I can survive for another week. 

DOOMSDAY PREPPERS COOKING MARATHON

Oven Roasted Baby Carrots with Sea Salt and Fresh Dill

Onion-Simmered Brown Rice

Cauliflower, White Bean, and Cherry Tomato Salad with Pan-fried Endive

I'll include a few recipe notes here and there, but other than that this one is aaalll about drooling onto your keyboard. It's sort of what I'm doing as I upload the photos. Enjoy! 

I would like to point out that carrots are beautiful when they're a bright raw orange and coated in olive oil AND when they're a pale cooked golden and tender. Especially if they are flecked with dill that's been burnt almost black.

Observe.

See what I mean? 

These, btw, are tossed in olive oil and sea salt, covered in an excessive amount of fresh dill, and roasted in a 450 degree oven for about half an hour. Done and done and DELICIOUS.

The Onion Brown Rice came about in the very scientific way of me realising that there was still an onion in our onion basket and Beetle needed to get rid of it, sharpish. What better place than a pot of brown rice cooking away on the stove? It does give it a nice sweet-yet sharp flavour, plus who doesn't love their comfort carbs with cooked onions?






I always forget how much rice cooks up. You put in what seems a normal amount, say, half a box. And then you realise that instead of a few modest portions you've in fact cooked a monthly-UN-refugee-handout amount. And that instead of an entire family eating it, it's pretty much all you.

Top Tip: The more you eat, the less guilty you feel.  

The Pan-fried Endive in one is courtesy of Yotam Ottolenghi who is a) A GENIUS OF EPIC BEYOND EPIC PROPORTIONS and b) one of the greatest things about my year abroad. Mike and I discovered Ottolenghi one afternoon wandering around Notting Hill and promptly decided to spend the next twelve months either eating inside, or waiting outside for it to open so we could go eat inside. It's literally, LITERALLY YOU GUYS the best food in the world. I still dream about those sweet potatoes. And that flourless chocolate cake. And the MERINGUES OH GOD THE MERINGUES. 

You see, this is what happens when you deprive Beetle of the necessary culinary outlets and/or
what she considers routine kitchen sanitation procedures.
I get a little intense. 

Sorry, back to pan-fried endive. And that salad. 

Taking a recipe for Fried Endives from Yotam's (in my head we are on a first name basis just go with it ok?) amazing cookbook, Plenty, and since I had fried fennel the week before to great success, AND since for whatever reason Mum is OBSESSED with endive, I decided to spread them over the top of a big veggie bean salad and see how that turned out. 

The base of the salad itself was steamed cauliflower, the awesome yellow cherry tomatoes you can ONLY get in the summer, and two cans of white beans, drained. I tossed them all together with olive oil, salt, and a lot of fresh thyme (see pic at right).








The endives (two of them, incidentally) I cut lengthwise in quarters and just let them caramelize face down in the pan until they were dark brown and awesome. It takes about 15 minutes for them to get really good and cooked. At least my pan did. I like 'em almost burnt, so maybe if you don't you should take them out a bit earlier.

Also consult a doctor because what is WRONG with you.

The best part is how the tips go all crunchy and curly. 

When you spread them on top, and then let the whole thing sit overnight, the endive amazingness soaks down into the rest of the salad. And, according to Mum, is BEYOND fantastic. 

There will be more GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKES this weekend, which, did you KNOW how fast teenagers can consume a cupcake? It's like . . . I don't know. It's like magic. There was also KARAOKE FUN TIMES last night, where I managed to stay out of the room that was singing One Direction. 

As I explained at the time: "It's not that I don't like them . . . It's just that I don't need to sing all their songs out loud one after the other. And you know them so much better than I do. But you go ahead. I'll be here when you get out."

"Go ahead. I'll stay right here." 

"Yes, I will watch your Bubble Tea."

Adventures in the Dorm Pit Kitchen

I will endeavour for the future NOT to begin my posts thus:

HOLY HELL HI YOU GUYS I MISS YOU

The problem with those beginnings is that what is implied pretty emphatically is

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN TO YOU IN SO LONG IT'S DISGUSTING 

And that is sad. I will endeavour to write more frequently, and even though I KNOW I said this might happen, and even though I KNOW you (hopefully) understand, I still feel guilty.

But beyond the guilt, I gotta say, I love writing this damn thing. So, for the twenty people that are reading it, THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME. Because, truth, it makes me happy.

And considering that for the last two weeks I have felt more fulfilled, energized, gratified, and purely, blissfully ECSTATIC than I have ever felt at work before, that's saying something.

You guys, I FREAKING LOVE TEACHING TEENAGE GIRLS HOW TO WRITE. SO MUCH IT'S ALMOST UNREAL. 

Now to business.

SOME baking has occurred in the last week. There was a birthday for one of the ESL teachers, for which DORM CAKE was made (more soon) and very importantly CUPCAKES were made for my girls for the last day of class. Not just any cupcakes. GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKES.

I just made up that name, but I'm going with it because . . . duh it's awesome. In fact, I might start signing my emails and letters that way.

DORM CAKE
Let me explain dorm cake. Dorm Cake is what you make in boarding school specifically, though sometimes in college, when you are working with the accumulated kitchen equipment of girls who have inhabited your living space before you from about 1800 onwards. The randomness of the pots, pans, and utensils can not be overstated.

Suffice it to say that this version of dorm cake was made without a mixmaster. Or measuring spoons. Or measuring cups. Or a mixing bowl. Or a whisk.

OR, DEAR READER, VERY IMPORTANTLY, A BLOODY CAKE PAN.

It was baked in THIS.

First and foremost, I'm not a massive fan of cooking in someone else's kitchen. I think we've effectively established that I am not a big germ-lover. And that in fact I skew as far from being a germ-lover as it is possible to skew. I once returned from a Halloween party in Brooklyn and gave myself a full body wipe down with lavender-scented antibacterial wipes (10 in total) BEFORE getting in a hot shower. I like cooking in my own kitchen because I and I ALONE control the cleanliness. (Mum, unfortunately, controls the knick knack situation on the counters and that's . . . a discussion for another time. *coughAZALEAcough*) Not only did I not know who had cooked there before, I didn't know ANYTHING about their counter-wiping habits, sponge-changing schedule, or cross-contamination-preventing storage methods. This was potentially a very dangerous situation, and certainly a very uncomfortable one.

HOWEVER. It was Carli's birthday, and what is a Warrior Beetle but someone who rises to a baking occasion? I sucked it up, grabbed the organic cruelty-free cleaner and a roll of paper towels, and headed down to the basement.

And you know what, dear reader?

NOT TO SHABBY, HUH?

The above edition of Dorm Cake was a basic White Cake recipe from Joy of Baking, combined with Beetle's very own no-mixer-required-because-there's-no-way-in-hell-I-can-make-buttercream-without-an-electrically-powered-implement-without-one-arm-turning-all-Incredible-Hulk-Lemon-Curd-Icing.

BEETLE'S VERY OWN NO-MIXER-REQUIRED-BECAUSE-YOU-KNOW-WHY-I-JUST-SAID-IT-LEMON-CURD-ICING

I invented this one when I had extra lemon curd one day from the Lemon Poppyseed Courgette Cake and I a)didn't want to make cream cheese frosting because that just seemed excessive and b)wanted icing that would be thick enough NOT to run directly off the top of the cake to the cake plate below, leaving the top bereft and naked.

Less on-the-plate-spillage, cleverly concealed by a row of blueberries.
What you don't see but just eat can't hurt you. 

It's the basic Confectioner's Sugar Icing, 1 cup of confectioner's sugar to 3 or 4 tbs water, stirring and adjusting as necessary. To this, though, add a few tbs of lemon curd at a time, alternating with more confectioner's sugar, until it's nice and thick. It will still pool around the cake circumference a little bit, but not as much as before. Also, duh, it's the best icing ever because IT'S FULL OF LEMON CURD. And as we know, anything involving Lemon Curd is automatically delicious. Rule of life, you guys. Rule of life.




BEETLE NOTES 
(Dorm Cake version)

Basically you estimate all the ingredients, combine them as best you can with your own arm power and a slotted (why?!?!) spoon, shove them in the thing you find that most closely resembles a baking pan, say a prayer to every God there might or might not be as you put it in the oven, and throw out the cooking time in favour of checking it obsessively every five minutes because a cake pan takes 35 minutes to cook BUT DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES IN A SAUCE POT? A HELL OF A LOT LONGER THAN 35 MINUTES THAT'S HOW LONG.

After almost an hour in the oven. 

Gotta say. Scariest moment of my life thus far: Getting ready to turn the pot over and wondering if it was going to come out, and how exactly I was going to make that happen without destroying the cake, the pan, and my soul. For the record, it came out like a dream, but THE FEAR WAS REAL, YOU GUYS.

Much prayer happens as you slice Dorm Cake in half. You never really know what is going to happen, and there's a distinct possibility that it could explode in your face or suddenly turn into a gremlin and kill you. 

Lemon Curd applied liberally before the two halves are squished back together. 

And thanks to Shannon and her two-for-one-blueberry shopping spree, the cake decos were an obvious choice. 

And the results?

Well. I didn't kill anyone. So. That's something.

In all reality, everyone very nicely said it was delicious, but I did notice second helpings being taken, and that's always a good sign. I brought the leftovers to the security guards on campus (always good to have them on your team) and I've noticed that when I get locked out of my classroom like I did this afternoon, my priority status has risen exponentially.

Beetle for the win.

GLUTEN FREE SPARKLE CUPCAKES
aka 
THE NAME OF A FUTURE CAT OF MINE

These were yet another Dorm Pit Kitchen (just made it up, go with it) project. I may have mentioned above how much I love my girls. And what better way to show them that (in case I don't tell them that every day which I think I do) than make cupcakes for the last day of classes? (Beetle Note: this programme is divided into two two-week sessions. Session one ended on Friday. Session two starts tomorrow. Hence "last day of classes.") Cupcakes = love, dear reader. Basic mathematical equation.

You may be asking yourselves, though, Beetle, why Gluten Free? Did you want to challenge yourself in the Dorm Pit Kitchen? Were you bored? Did the Hannaford's in downtown Troy not have regular flour? The answer to all of these is no. The reason I made gluten free cupcakes, as I'm sure you've guessed, is that one of my girls is gluten intolerant, and as I am responsible for her mental and physical wellbeing, making her violently and publicly ill seemed counterintuitive. 

I am supposed to teach her how to create dramatic tension. I am not supposed to send her into gluten anaphylaxis.

So I'll tell you a secret. You know what I did? Instead of buying xantham gum and psyllium husks (?!) and a)spending a bazillion dollars and b)making cupcakes that tasted totally nasty in all probability and DEFINITELY ones that were inappropriate for teenage girls, I pulled a Hillbilly Beetle and took the lazy way out. 

I used the Joy of Baking Yellow Cupcake and Chocolate Cupcake recipes and just substituted gluten free flour. (I did however omit Vanilla Extract, which (??) has gluten in it. I did do that. And they did not turn out horribly.)

YOU GUYS. I'M SORRY. I'll understand if you never want to read this again. I've failed you. It's just that the concept of trying to find and purchase a million new ingredients and THEN attempt to put them together in something resembling a baked good in the Dorm Pit Kitchen made me all . . . 

I hope you will forgive me. If it makes any difference, I still love YOU. 

The great thing about frosting is that THERE'S NO FLOUR AND THEREFORE NO GLUTEN so I was back on my home turf. Wooo. I made Confectioner's Frosting, since the normal Confectioner's Icing would not even BEGIN to cut it. General rule of thumb and actually rule of entire BODY when you're dealing with frosting and cupcakes is: the thicker the better. In fact, if you can manage to veer into the realm of ridiculously thick, please do so. Cupcakes are MEANT to have enormous amounts of frosting. Otherwise, it's just cake. And that's not as fun.

And do you know WHY frosting is so important? I'll tell you.

SPRINKLES!!!!!!

RAINBOW SPRINKLES! 

PASTEL SPRINKLES! 

PINK AND BLUE GLITTER SPRINKLES! 

SPRINKLES SPRINKLES SPRINKLES!!!!!

This is how I feel about Sprinkles.

Frosting is so important because HOW ELSE ARE THE SPRINKLES SUPPOSED TO STICK TO THE TOPS OF THE CUPCAKES BUT IN A WONDERFUL PILLOWY SQUISHY SWEET AND LIGHT MASS OF FROSTING??

HUH??

EXACTLY.

btw: do you have any idea how fast 14 teenage girls can decimate two batches of cupcakes?
They're like STEALTH NINJA CUPCAKE EATING MACHINES.

So class on Friday afternoon turned out to be a cupcake hot chocolate mocha madness session with poetry, short stories, giggles that became increasingly sugar-fueled aka more high pitched and frequent, and much love and promises to stay in touch. And I only vaguely teared up. Which. Proud.

TODAY, dear reader, I get a new batch of girls. And I am very much afraid that I will love them just as much as my first group. It seems impossible, but I am sure it will be the case. And there will probably be more Gluten Free Sparkle Cupcakes very soon.

So now I must leave you for the time being to get ready for a FIELD TRIP which is something I do now. FIELD TRIPS. With WORKSHEETS. Involving MINIVAN DRIVING. And HEAD COUNTS.

You think Beetle's OCD was bad before? Try giving her 14 girls for whom she is personally responsible. I'm trying to get the go-ahead to tie them together and/or sharpie their name and my phone number on their foreheads. Probably not going to fly, but I'll keep suggesting it.

In the meantime, writing exercises baked into cupcakes will have to do.