Sometimes I think I am half hobbit. I’m short and stocky and cheery and (to overshare) I have slightly hairy feet. My dad first read The Hobbit to me when I was about 5, and I re-read it on my own soon after; it was one of my first real chapter books. During the first chapter when the dwarves descend on Bilbo and eat everything in his pantry, the first thing consumed is seed cake; I always wondered what this tasted like (yes, even at age 5), and assumed it was poppy-seed based. So, when I found a recipe for a traditional English seed cake in my latest cookbook acquisition (a 1940s collection of old English bread and cake recipes), I immediately had to satisfy my curiosity.
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Most of the recipes on this blog are here because they caught my eye in some way – they had a funny name, interesting ingredient combos, a cool twist on a classic dish. This particular recipe – for black bottom pie – is rather special to me; it leaped out from the pages of The Southern Cook Book before I ever started to blog. The recipe was set out in a dauntingly rambling manner, with vague measurements, so I know adaptation would take work and I kept putting it off. Boy am I glad I got over that…
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My mom’s mother Maureen passed away last Monday afternoon. She had just turned 86, and she was my last grandparent. I both started calling my grandmother “Grandma Mo” when I was too young to say “Maureen,” and it stuck; my younger cousin grew up calling her “Mama Mo.” My Grandma Mo is not as linked with food in my memories as my Grandma Viv is; my mom’s mom was British – from Wales – and was married to an Italian. Her main signature dishes were cheesecake (already posted here) and roast beef; she was a solid meat-and-potatoes cook, except when she made Neapolitan dishes at my grandfather’s request. I will, however, always associate my grandmother with one particularly unique meal: tea. She lived on Twining’s English Breakfast, and would always have a cup in the afternoon. Often with Walker’s shortbread. So, I’ve made biscuits and a cuppa for my grandma, and am going to sit down to reminisce for a bit. I’m much better at writing about humor than I am about feelings, so bear with me…
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Well…I seem to have broken my regular-posting promises. I promise I have good reasons, one happy, one not-so-much: first, I got really wrapped up in pies – you’ll see the fruits of this obsession below. Second reason: my grandma passed away this past Monday; I’ll be paying her proper tribute soon…but in the meantime, let’s celebrate life and new beginnings. With pie.
As I mentioned earlier, I got a new apartment this month. And Foodbuzz was kind enough to help me christen my new kitchen by hosting a 24 x 24 there – a pie-centric one. Yep, I had a Pie-tober Housewarming. The oven was going for 2 days, so my house definitely got pretty warm. All that baking yielded nine pies in total – in six flavors. Three of those were pies I’d done before, and three were experiments; thankfully, I had plenty of friends willing to taste test.
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It’s been a while, folks. And this post is coming from a new kitchen. Yes, I moved, and I am finally in my very own apartment – hopefully for a while. My first real venture in this kitchen was, fittingly, a Charcutepalooza challenge. Specifically, the October “stretching” challenge. I’m still getting used to my new cooking space (and I don’t have a real table yet), so I tried a personal take on rillettes, rather than going for a gallantine or some such. I also managed to leave my copy of the Charcutepalooza Bible at my dad’s house; thus, this recipe is cobbled together from sheer know-how. And the internet. I call the final product – a venison-hare potted meat – “Rillettes de Bambi et Thumper.” Yep. What can I say, I’m a sick puppy; doesn’t change the fact this is awesomely gamey and delicious.
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So, I’m back in the States. I’ve decided to finish out my Asia posts because I like the travel diary aspect of things, but I’m also going to include recipes in these last posts to round things out. Thankfully, as I was flipping through my new book Authentic Cambodian Recipes, I came across a recipe for a terrine of ground pork and prahok (fermented fish paste). August’s Charcutepalooza challenge – the first of the two I’ve missed – involved terrines; so, I’m killing two birds with one stone.
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When I first arrived in Ho Chi Minh City, I was nervous about calling it Saigon; I was afraid that name, though shorter and simpler, carried negative colonial connotations. It turns out, however, that many Vietnamese still refer to the former capital of South Vietnam by that name; it technically describes to the inner urban districts of the larger HCMH, but is used in a manner similar to that in which “New York” can be used on place of Manhattan. Anyway, we started our visit to Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon at Ben Thanh Market, which was only 2 blocks from our hotel.
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