Girlfriend Weekend of Biscuits and Dinner Eggs

So this happened in the grocery story on Friday afternoon, in the baking aisle to be exact, as I was deciding whether or not I needed more whole wheat flour, and also wondering whether the woman in front of me choosing brownie mix had actually spontaneously died standing up or was just very slow moving:

Me: do I need more . . . did I start that last bag . . . is the one under the kitchen table rye flour or white . . . 
Mum: [as is per usual when shopping, breaking train of culinary thought with something completely unrelated and therefore detrimentally distracting] "Do you need more tofu?"
Me: [blinking out of internal flour debate] "Yes. And when we reach the tofu section clear at the other end of the store I will address that issue. Right now, in the flour section, this is what I'm dealing with."
Mum: [side eye]
Mum: [perhaps attempting, though let's not get ahead of ourselves here, to pose a relevant question] "How about baking powder?"
Me: "No we have enough I used it earlier this week and there's half a can left."
Mum: "You know what I want? Baking powder biscuits. Will you make those?"
Me: [making a flour decision and looking up] "Yes. Give me that new can of baking powder then, and go get me some buttermilk, and meet me in the paper towel aisle."
Mum: "Buttermilk?"
Me: "Buttermilk. With the milk. In the dairy section. Go."
Mum: [side eye. peaces out]

Of course, dear reader, what I knew was that when she asked for Baking Powder Biscuits she meant Buttermilk Biscuits. She doesn't like Baking Power Biscuits because they are "dry and tasteless." It's the Buttermilk ones she likes. She saw baking powder, thought biscuits, and here we are, and because I am a smart Beetle I knew what to do. I'm totally like Helen Mirren in Gosford Park who is "the perfect servant" because she knows what people want before they themselves do. Minus the whole servant thing, totally me.

It was an opportune time to make them actually because it was another GIRLFRIEND WEEKEND meaning my friend Becks (like Posh and Becks except this Becks is a)female b)not an international football star c)not married to an ex-Spice Girl and d)one of my besties) was coming up and in celebration I wanted to make something hedonistic but hedonistic in a Martha-Stewart-summery-comfort-food kind of way. And biscuits seemed the perfect thing.

Obviously if I want to make something that classic, I'm going to turn to my amazing New American Cookbook (discussed previously here) which, bless it, features 15 different variations on your basic biscuit. Yes, some of them are scary and weird (I'm looking at you, Cream of Tartar Biscuits and, um,wtf, Ham Relish Biscuits) but I also can't imagine turning down either a Sweet Potato or a Bran Butterscotch Biscuit. I mean, what kind of person could do that?

I love that these aren't even called "Buttermilk Biscuits." Nope. You want old school? These are "Sour Milk Biscuits." Because that's how Yankees roll.

SOUR MILK except no because that sounds gross so BUTTERMILK BISCUITS
(slightly adapted from the book to remove shortening and "soda" which . . . whatever)

INGREDIENTS

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 4 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 tbs butter
• 3/4 cup buttermilk

Sift flour, baking powder, and salt together in a bowl. Rub in butter with fingertips. Stir in buttermilk and mix to a soft dough. (It will be very squishy but not that sticky.) Roll out onto slightly floured board to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut with a biscuit cutter and bake in a quick oven (450 F) 10 to 15 minutes. 

Just before being popped into MY QUICK OVEN.

BEETLE NOTES

First. I *super heart* the fact that they use "quick oven" because its one of those period details that makes me crazy happy. I love it. The adjective usage before "oven" in this book is one of the greatest literary experiments of all time. Just looking at the open book next to me right now, we've got: quick, hot, moderate, and pre-heated (interesting, as opposed to . . . ?) Also, the temperature definitions of the aforementioned are totally not consistent. A "quick" oven can range from 400 - 450 degrees, a "hot" from 375 - 425, a "moderate" from 350 to 400. Sometimes they don't even give you the degree equivalent, you just have to guess. Which at least makes it fun. Am I going to burn the house down today or not? Let's find out! Whee! 

I did not, for the record.

As I mentioned above, I don't know what "soda" is and therefore there's no way we have it in the house. So I decided that I would just increase the baking powder by 1 tsp (as per the Baking Powder Biscuit recipe right next to it) and hope for the best. 

And, duh, no shortening. I know, I know, a surprising number of Yankees actually do swear by it for pie crusts, etc., and there is a pretty vociferous argument out there that it's the only way to do certain baking correctly. But I can't get on the shortening train. It just . . . it looks like industrial waste, you guys, I'm sorry. It freaks me out. I just imagine that when you die of fatty degeneration of the heart (which of course you will) whatever builds up in your valves and stuff is literally the same texture and colour as Crisco. It LOOKS like the contents of a clogged artery. I'M SORRY. 

I just switch it out  for butter every time and damn the culinary consequences. Moving on. 

I mean I guess they could be called "drop biscuits?"
Or "shaped and carefully placed biscuits?"

I also totally did not feel like getting out my pastry mat and rolling and re-rolling and cutting and re-cutting and then cleaning flour out of the tile grouting for an hour even though you know you didn't even stand in that part of the kitchen how does that happen. So I just kneaded the dough in the bowl for a bit until it all came together evenly and then ripped off small handfuls and shaped them into what I considered "biscuit-looking" forms. 

Before placing on the baking sheets, I dipped them in a little bit of flour to keep them from sticking and also from an aesthetic perspective I feel like biscuits really should have a dusting of flour on them, otherwise they just aren't biscuits. I know you'll agree. 

Also must say that these reminded me of baking powder biscuit night at Wellesley, when the entire cross country team would eat pretty much two entire commercial-sized sheet pans of these, slathered in honey, for our dinner. (only when our coach was NOT in attendance, obviously, as they did not in any way fulfill our daily protein requirements) They. Were. The. Best. I miss baking powder biscuit night.

[sighs nostalgically]

And the best thing about these is that they can be toasted for brekkie with butter and/or jam, eaten directly off the baking sheet with your bare hands (if you are a certain Beetle mother) or served up for dessert, as shall become clear, for GIRLFRIEND WEEKEND. 

And THAT, dear reader, is my segue. [bows horns to applause]

Poor Becks was SUPPOSED to arrive in Boston at 12.30 but due to an infestation of bus gremlins was significantly later than that. And I felt it was my duty as a bestie to comfort, pamper, and feed her as much as possible. We've all been in the bus gremlin situation. It's up there in terms of unpleasant experiences. She weathered it pretty well I have to say. I would have looked like something out of World War Z, and would probably have been wide eyed, foaming at the mouth, lost the ability to communicate through speech, and be attacking and eating my fellow passengers. She, however, is clearly cooler than me because she seemed pretty blase about the entire thing. But I still decided to feed her as much as possible in the next 48 hours, just to make sure she didn't go for my brains. 

GIRLFRIEND WEEKEND KICKOFF SUMMER FRITTATA SUPPER

Blanket apology for all the photos of this. I am sorry that our kitchen looks like the seventh circle of hell from an ambient lighting perspective. It is NOT actually this orange. It's a much warmer, rosier glow in reality, but if I use the flash then everything just comes out looking like cat vomit and nobody wants that. So I guess if you don't mind pretending you are in Corsica or something . . . ? Yeah? Thanks. 

INGREDIENTS

• 8 eggs, beaten
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 1 cup torn spinach leaves or mixed greens
• 2 cups (roughly) cherry tomatoes, sliced in half
• 2 links vegetarian sausage, sliced
• fresh thyme
• olive oil, salt, pepper
• Shredded Parmesan cheese

Make the filling first. Pour the olive oil in a large frying pan, get it hot, and add the onion, cooking about 5 minutes until it starts to soften. Add the sausages, cook a few minutes more. 

Add the tomatoes, salt, pepper, thyme, and cook for a bit more until the tomatoes have reduced and lost some of their juices. Add the spinach last as it will cook super fast, and keep stirring. Add more oil as necessary. 

Reduce the heat, spread the filling out over the bottom of the frying pan. Slowly pour the beaten eggs over the filling, trying to get it as evenly covered as possible. Tilt the pan back and forth if you need to, and keep tilting it to let the uncooked egg run into little non-egg places if necessary. Sprinkle salt, pepper, more thyme, and cheese on top.

Let that sit and cook for about 10 minutes. Keep running your spatula underneath the edges to keep it from sticking, and also to check how brown it is. When it's golden on the bottom, put it in the broiler for 3-4 more minutes until the top is browning and crackly. Feel free to add more cheese at ANY point during this. You can cook it into the filling too, obviously. 

Sliced perfectly. Glorious. 

I just served it straight out of the pan onto the plate, and it cut into really nice slices. If you are more cultured than I am, slide it out onto a serving dish and do it that way. 

If for some reason it's still runny when you slice into it, just stick it back in the broiler for a few more minutes until it firms up. (I'm assuming here that you are not one of those complete moral wasteoids who like runny eggs because that would be awkward and unfortunate for us both.) 

This is one of those awesome summer dishes that can be made in 15 minutes, can use pretty much anything in the fridge, can be served hot or cold, made vegetarian or non, and, I mean, come on, pretty much EVERYONE likes eggs. Plus eggs for dinner is just . . . awesome. ALSO I know it's a lot of eggs, and a lot of frittata, but it keeps really well in the fridge, and I don't think anyone in the history of the world has ever turned down leftover cold frittata the morning after. It would be like, I don't know, hating kittens or something. Just not done. 

I repeat. Eggs for dinner = Awesome. 

Annnnnd if there is a better way to finish off a delicious summer veggie egg-based dinner than watching Miss Congeniality and eating Strawberry Shortcake, I WOULD SERIOUSLY LIKE TO KNOW WHAT IT IS. 

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

Come on, you knew where I was going with this.

IS there a more classic summer dessert? Maybe a draw with Blueberry Pie . . . but really, no. And we had the biscuits . . . IT WAS FATE.

ALSO DEAR READER. BEETLE ANNOUNCEMENT. 

FOR THE TWO PEOPLE READING THIS WHO DON'T KNOW ME PERSONALLY. 

From mid-July to mid-August I will be posting (hopefully) but probs not "cooking posting" as I will be TEACHING WRITING in upstate New York. I got the gig back in May, but if I've failed to mention it until now it's because I black out with joy every time it comes up. It's a month-long Writer's Retreat for teen girls where I shall attempt to instill in them the wisdom of my nearly-thirty years. We will be covering Creative Writing, Blogging, Poetry, College Essays (blah) and a few other things. I gotta tell you I am having SO MUCH FUN coming up with exercises and lesson plans. Should it feel this fun to work? Should it? 

I will also be a dorm head, so imagine Princess Diaries 2 when they slide down the palace stairs on mattresses, and that's pretty much what's going to happen when I'm on duty. SO. I'll put up a few little brain dumps when I can, and perhaps if the girls in my dorm and I have a baking party then that'll go up too. But I'll be back at the farm and cooking again, before Labour Day never fear. 

And omg you guys it's the 4th of July on THURSDAY which means relatively patriotic food (read: cornbread) but also getting out our Union Jack tea towels and commemorative Coronation mugs and spoons and having a vaguely (ok pretty) monarchistic Independence Day. As we do. 

We will watch National Treasure and National Treasure 2: Book of Secrets, though, that has to count for something. Nothing says "Yay America" like Nicolas Cage deciphering Masonic scrolls. NOTHING. 

Three things that are ginger and go CRUNCH

The decision of what to bake yesterday was reached in a manner very similar to a Chose Your Own Adventure novel. Remember those? They were awesome. Mind you, my one outstanding skill in reading those was that I could ALWAYS always always pick the option that made you die fastest. I don't know how I did it. It could be the most innocuous decision, like "do you take the bus or the train?" and I would take the train, and the train would derail and explode and I'd die, or "do you chose chocolate or vanilla ice cream?" and I'd chose chocolate, and then suddenly realise that I had a life-threatening allergy to chocolate and go into anaphylaxis and die.

After a while, like a fat kid who learns to make fun of his size so that people are laughing "with" him instead of "at" him, I would play a game with the books to see just how fast I could die. I would happily throw myself down the abandoned mine shafts, get into the car with the random guy in a ski mask, chose the fork in the road that had a giant NO ENTRY sign over it.

All of this proves that I would probably be the worst teen adventurer of all time. I would not only die seconds after the nice old lady had asked me to look for her missing parrot, I would also totally not be ok with being chased in a car, receiving threatening letters, or sneaking through the woods to eavesdrop on gangster hideouts. Really, I would not be ok with getting dirty, sweaty, in danger, or roughing it in any way. I would suck. I would definitely leave it to Nancy Drew, and have her tell me all about it later over a nice cup of tea in her warm, clean, River Heights living room.

So baking.

Option A. My first choice of baked good was a Lemon Curd Slice. (yes, still on the Donna Hay droolfest) It's summery and bright, and a much-needed kitchen-palate cleanser after last weekend. HOWEVER. Upon opening the fridge, I realised we had two too few eggs, and not nearly as many lemons as I thought we had (damn you, mother, and your obsession with lemon on fish). So. That was out. I chose Option B.

Option B. I remembered that Beatrice had a recipe for Lingonberry Jam Cake that I had faithfully promised to make a few months ago. Upon rushing to the living room and opening the cookbook, however, I realised that we didn't have any sour cream. Boo. We also have no cinnamon, which unfortunately means that my consumption of cinnamon oatmeal has reached the stage that psychologists label "interfering with social relationships." Bottom line, that was out. I chose Option C.

Option C. Going back to the original Lemon Curd Slice recipe, I glanced at the one below it: a Ginger Slice. Now, obviously Lemon followed the "summer dessert" rationale, and on Monday and Tuesday, that made perfect sense. (I will provide proof of this by simply saying that I took an hour and a half walk on Monday and got a heat rash. However, the Yankee Weather Gods clearly got bored, because Wednesday, yesterday, and today were frigid, soaking wet, and miserable. As I just typed that sentence, I am not kidding, there was a clap of thunder. Thanks guys, love you too.) So at the moment I saw "Ginger Crunch Slice", it was actually raw, misty, and cold. And the idea of ginger seemed warming and spicy and maybe not such a bad idea. And I still had caster sugar. And I didn't need ANY eggs. Or cinnamon.

YOU GUYS I CHOSE OPTION C. DID I DIE? WE SHALL SEE. 

GINGER CRUNCH SLICE
(Donna Hay's recipe, with small Beetle tweaks)

INGREDIENTS

• 2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 2 tsp ground ginger
• 1 cup caster sugar
• 250 g cold butter (17 1/2 tbs) 

ginger icing

• 150 g butter, chopped (10 1/2 tbs)
• 1/4 cup golden syrup
• 1 1/2 tbs ground ginger
• 1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar

Preheat oven to 350F. Place flour, sugar, ginger and baking powder in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add butter and process until mixture resembles fine breadcrumbs. Press into a 20cm x 30cm tin lined with non-stick baking paper. The flour mixture will be quite crumbly when you press it into the tin but it comes together as it cooks and as the butter melts. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until golden and firm to the touch.

To make the ginger icing, place the butter, golden syrup and ginger in a saucepan over medium heat and cook for 2-3 minutes or until the butter is melted. Stir through the icing sugar and pour immediately over the slice. Refrigerate for 1 hour or until the icing is set, slice and serve. 

BEETLE NOTES
I refer you back to my comment of last week re: Rhubarb Raspberry Crumble Slice. These are stupidly easy to make, require very little baking, and can be made without a mixmaster if you simply can't face that pale green Kitchen Aid one more time. Also, the concept of a slice remains a delicious filling sandwiched between two loaves of "bread" made out of butter and sugar. HOW COULD IT GO WRONG? God Bless Australia for having slices as a commonly made confection.

I would like to take this moment to dedicate this Ginger Crunch Slice to Julia Gillard. Julia, some of your policies may have been flawed, but you made great strides for women in Australian politics and stood up to what has to be some of the most rampant, disgusting, and personally vicious sexism I have ever seen. I am very sorry that clearly Australian men can't handle being led by a woman, and rather than accept you as a human being and a colleague they have chosen to denigrate you in a completely petty, vulgar, and infantile manner, and replace you with your predecessor, who, as far as I can tell, counts as his sole accomplishment the fact that he looks even stupider than David Cameron. 

This one's for you, Lady.

For what it's worth, Kevin Rudd sucks. 

Ahem. So I guess when you run out of one spice you run out of them all. I realised halfway through the making of the crust and icing that I was going to be short on ground ginger. (you guys what is happening in my pantry right now?) But when the cooking gets tough, the Beetle gets Warrior. Or, more specifically, when the cooking gets tough, the Beetle gets out the Ginger Preserve.


I used all the ground ginger in the base mixture, bumping it up to 3 tsp, and then for the icing, used 2 tsp of ground ginger (all that was left in the jar), a little less than a 1/4 cup of ginger preserve, and 2 tbs of agave. I figured that all this combined would roughly (ok, very roughly) approximate 1 1/2 tbs ginger and 1/4 cup golden syrup. ALSO KEY was that the ginger preserve has those amazing little nuggets of crystalised ginger in it, which I figured not only couldn't HURT the icing atop the crust, would go as far as ENHANCING IT.

Nuggets of crystalised ginger = nuggets of awesome. 

What happened was a) it totally worked and b) the icing ended up being thicker. Win win, Beetle. 

Suuuuuper thick icing spotted with tiny ginger pieces. 

The dissolving of confectioner's sugar in almost infinite amounts is one of my favourite parts of making icing.
It's like MAGIC. No matter how much you add, it DISAPPEARS. 

And that, dear reader, is that. I shoved it in the fridge for a few hours, and pulled it out when Mum got home to warm up a bit before slicing. It slices like a DREAM which always makes me feel accomplished. I don't know, somehow if it slices cleanly I feel like it can't taste bad? Completely nonsensical but there you go. 

The Beetle Note I have is that when Donna Hay says "crunch" she means crunch. This is probably best eaten like a brownie or bar, aka with your hands. Totally not a problem, you say, that was my plan in the first place. Well if you are fastidious to the point of a Monty Python sketch like Mum, then you will try to eat this with a knife and fork. I had to watch this last night, you guys. It's possible, but difficult. It cuts in a big SMACK as the knife all of a sudden goes through, and if you're trying to watch a new Swedish Crime TV show, it's kind of distracting. I left it out over night to give the base time to dethaw completely, and it's definitely easier to cut through this morning. But just be aware. The Aussies take their crunches seriously, apparently. 

My boyfriend Chris Hemsworth ALSO takes his crunches seriously. 

However, extra thick icing makes everything ok. And there's definitely something to be said for the melding of two different consistencies as well as textures.

See? World Peace. Done. End to Global Warming. Done.
EXTRA THICK ICING FOR EVERYONE.  

Please note the perfect slices.

And again . . . 

So even though I chose Option C, I'm not dead (not yet, anyway). And as I finish this post, the thunder has stopped, the sun is emerging, and the birds are singing. I think, dear reader, that it might be time for Lemon Curd Slices in a day or two.

If I can avoid empty elevator shafts, smugglers, and falling tree limbs until then. Hey, it might happen.

In the meantime, if you haven't seen it yet, watch Julia Gillard DESTROY Tony Abbot (aka Leader of the Opposition aka a butthead sexist pig who still lives in the year 1452) because it is the most amazing thing ever and it made me damn proud to be a woman. A Beetle. But a Woman. 

The Main Event - BIRTHDAY AWESOME

There's really only one way to begin this post:

Dear reader, it was glorious. It was a birthday party worthy of the SUPERMOON which occurred at its fullest on Sunday night (even the MOON was celebrating you guys, don't think she didn't read into that) and which luckily didn't transform us into werewolves in the midst of cake and candles (an interesting possibility, however, didn't happen). 

In attendance were Mummy's best friend, and two of my best girlfriends from New York, both of whom were angelic enough to make the trek AND help me out in the kitchen, bless them. It was an incredibly girly day/evening, and much fun and high pitched shrieking was had by all. Presents included books (natch, is there any other kind of gift?), cellulite firming cream (which she doesn't need, damn her, why couldn't I inherit her lack of cellulite???), and snazzy new workout clothes including something I'd never heard of but HAD to order just to see . . . a SKAPRI which is of course a skort that is capri-legged. What will the world think of next? 

ANYWAY. Party = my new favorite word = JOLLIFICATION.

BIRTHDAY PARTY SUPPER

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Fennel, Artichoke, Pea, and Farro Salad

Herbed Three Bean and Spinach Salad

Oven Baked Halibut with Dill

(served with) Sauteed Leeks and Green Olives

---

Crackers, Cheese (Camembert, Blue, Cheddar, Goat), Almonds, Dates

Black Bread

---

Pavlova with Whipped Cream, Raspberries, and Blackberries

---

Coffee, Tea, etc. 

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I KNOW RIGHT???? I took a lot more but I think I was shaking from sugar high
because they all came out blurry. 

RECIPES AND BEETLE NOTES

FENNEL, ARTICHOKE, PEA, AND FARRO SALAD

Artichokes have never been involved in my cooking before, primarily because I detest them. HOWEVER. My friend Meg was in attendance and one of the reasons we are besties is that she takes my artichokes/avocado and I take her mushrooms. It's a symbiotic BFF relationship. Upon broaching the artichoke topic with Mum, she revealed that she does in fact like artichokes. [waggles horns in surprise and thinly disguised horror] So looking through Recipes for Health in the Times, like I do every day, I found this recipe, which looked summery and delicious (if you like that sort of thing, she sniffs).

It was very straightforward (like you always are, Martha Rose Shulman), and all I did was substitute Farro for Farfalle to give it a bit more depth (and a bit more health) and that was that. I cooked the Artichoke/Fennel/Pea mixture separately from the Farro, put them both in the fridge over night, then mixed them together, still cold, before serving.

God bless cold summer salads, you guys, they are THE BEST.

[Beetle Note: I love the smell of Fennel. I mean, seriously love it.]

HERBED THREE BEAN AND SPINACH SALAD

This is one of those recipes that you get from Epicurious one random day five years ago because it's Julia Child and you add it to your recipe box because . . . because. And then all of a sudden you make it and you realise that it's THE BEST THING EVER and not only that, it is insanely versatile and you can pretty much add anything you want and play around with it and it becomes your summer standby dish because it's healthy, light, best served cold, and . . . crazy easy. 

For this one, I went with Pinto, Great Northern, and Black Eyed Peas. (I'm on a Pinto kick at the moment, incidentally.) We got A TON of fresh herbs at the market so I went nuts with the Basil and Thyme, olive oil, salt and pepper, and boom. Instant awesome. I will remark, however, that if you ARE going to use sage (which I recommend, it's delightful) that I prefer ground sage over the leaves. Because the taste of it is so so so strong, one mouthful of a leaf can kind of throw off everything. If you use powdered sage (sorry, Julia!) then the distribution is even throughout, and you get to enjoy it's taste as a more subtle thing rather than holy hell my tongue is burning. 

To keep the spinach as fresh as possible (because spinach bruises if you look at it) I chilled the salad over night, then mixed in the fresh baby spinach and a touch more olive oil just before I brought it out. It keeps its texture, its colour, and its taste so much better that way. 

OVEN BAKED HALIBUT WITH DILL served with SAUTEED LEEKS AND GREEN OLIVES

I've said it before but it bears repeating. The best way to cook with fish is to plan on the fly depending on what your market has the day you buy it. Chose whatever is the freshest, whatever is the most local, whatever your fishmonger recommends (seriously, ASK THEM where the fish came from, ASK THEM when it came in. It's an almost guaranteed thing that you'll get the best there is to offer.)

That being said, Halibut was up at the market, yummy yummy yummy local Halibut that screamed I just came out of the ocean please cook me and eat me until you can't move. And so, dear reader, I did. My friend Kristin (also in attendance) emailed me next day to say, "how did you know I loved halibut?" and I had to disabuse her of the notion that my fish choice was anything but inherently selfish. (I suspect she knew that was going to be the answer . . . I mean, we ARE besties, she knows how I operate by now.) 

But what to make for it? I mean, it would have been TOTALLY AMAZING just cooked with olive oil, salt, and herbs, but you know, birthday party and all, I wanted something a bit more special. So considering it had been almost a month [gasps in horror] since I had made anything with leeks, and still on an olive kick from Midsummer the night before, I made a quick saute of three large leeks, 1 cup of green olives, and 3 tbs of olive oil. The leeks take about 10 minutes to cook, so toss them with salt and pepper and lots of fresh dill and let them soften a bit. After 5 minutes, add the olives and keep stirring until they start to brown. Your house will smell wonderful, and you will absolutely love the oniony, salty pairing of them with a clean, white fish. They offset each other perfectly. 

Served over the fish, this is best served hot. However, if, like me, you made a lot of leeks and olives, they are OMG SO DELICIOUS cold the next day. 

And all together now . . . 

Ok ok ok so I knowwwww you've all been going BEETLE WHAT THE HELL STOP TALKING ABOUT LEEKS FOR GOD'S SAKE I READ THIS BLOG FOR THE BAKING I WANT THAT PAVLOVA THAT YOU TALKED ABOUT IN THE BEGINNING I'M BORED GET ON WITH IT.

Sorry. Here it is. 

BIRTHDAY CAKE

PAVLOVA WITH WHIPPED CREAM, RASPBERRIES, AND BLACKBERRIES 

Pavlova became the chosen birthday cake about a month ago. I forget what we were watching on television but all of a sudden there was a MASSIVE ONE on the screen and Mum turned to me and went I WANT THAT FOR MY BIRTHDAY MAKE IT and I went OK FINE. 

I had never made a pavlova before. The concept of making a meringue, delicious delicious delicious meringue, made me nervous. I was fine eating marshmallow fluff out of a jar but BAKING one? A recipe that involved propping open the oven door with a spoon for an hour and only opening it upon pain of culinary death? Different story. However. I am not called Warrior Beetle for nothing. BRING IT ON, EGG WHITES AND CASTER SUGAR AND FOR SOME INEXPLICABLE REASON WHITE VINEGAR. BRING IT ON. 

How do you like THEM stiff peaks????

I used the Joy of Baking recipe, wanting something absolutely basic (none of your fancypants meringues, thank you, we don't do that up North, Yankee modesty and all that . . . also it was going to be daunting enough without adding pistachios or something).

The thing is, meringue is inherently easy. The ingredients come together in a few minutes, and if you've got a mixmaster it's even faster. What makes this scary as hell is the fact that you bake it for over an hour, that you CANNOT ON PAIN OF DEATH open the oven door, and then, like I said, you have to let it cool by sticking a wooden spoon in the door hinge, backing slowly out of the room, and lying in a dark closet for an hour until it's safe to come out. That, dear reader, is worrisome. SO MUCH COULD GO WRONG. 

Oh god you can SEE THE CRACKS.
I suck at life. 

Well. I did it. And you know what, it was beautiful. [pats horns on own exoskeletal back] It did fall. I will say that. Hey, you can't have everything in life and it was my first one. It did cave in, and I think maybe I made the depression in the middle too steep? Or spread it out too wide? But the best thing about whipped cream (ok, one of the best things) is that it covers oh so many flaws. Once it was filled up with cream and covered in a glorious mix of blue and red berries, it really was quite lovely. 

Below is a small meringue slideshow to commemorate my first attempt. (I have been informed it will BY NO MEANS BE MY LAST.) 

Pre-cooked. Perhaps where I went wrong. 

After cooking and stealth cooling . . . note the collapsed edges. 

Beetle Fail.
Delicious Fail.
But Fail. 

And filled to the brim with cream and berries.  

And with candles cleverly stuck inside upside down blackberries to keep them upright.
Genius Beetle.  

Good news is I can TOTALLY EAT MERINGUE because it's egg whites and sugar, so the cracked sides actually helped me nibble, rabid squirrel like, round the edges. I can personally attest to the fact that the insides WERE TOTALLY MARSHMALLOWY LIKE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE and that it was, in fact, CRAZY YUMMY. 

Or rather: 

OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT THE BIRTHDAY BREAKFAST. When you ask Mum what she wants for her special bday morning meal, I'll give you three guesses as to what she says. . . 

Yep. Pancakes it is. 

You can take the girl out of Finland . . . 

So Happy Birthday to my dear Beetle Mum, and please forgive me for giving your old workout clothes to our handyman as drop cloths for his bandsaw. I figured if I gave you nice new ones it would sort of even things out. 

You know what, whilst you decide whether you are still pissed at me or not, let me just cut you another slice of pavlova . . .