Snicker at me. Please.

I made these cookies for my improv group who wigged out on how much they liked them. These are hefty cookies, and thank god I kept a few at home because the group ate them up. One group member stated that they are like a cookie form of cinnamon toast crunch. I say that is true, but they are even better. Although now I want to crumble them into a bowl with milk.

I am going to ply you with more comedy whiz-nit for a minute, but stay tuned for some thoughts on Snickerdoodles, as a thing, below.

My improv team of which I speak and I strive to make people laugh a lot, at least once a week. I am always doing comedy. I can tell you confidently that whether it is a sitcom or Shakespeare, comedy is harder. Than anything. Why did I hate it when people laughed at me as a kid? It’s all I want now.

I intend to inspire a wee bit of laughter and/or tears this weekend:

I am rather terrified, as my story may be too serious for this crowd? It is sort of sad and funny. Screw it. It’s gonna be great. Come see the show! Even if I suck, the Hello Giggles shows at UCB always rock. Tickets here. Woot!

Now for what I had to say about Snickerdoodles. I noticed in the last year or two lots of people making any old recipe, adding cinnamon and calling it a Snickerdoodle-flavored. Someone even wrote on their blog that the only difference between Snickerdoodles and sugar cookies was the cinnamon. WRONG! SO WRONG! A Snickerdoodle has a very, very specific taste that comes largely from the introduction of an acid, usually in the form of cream of tartar. So there.

I like a good good biting flavor in a cookie. And a good biting wit.

That was lame. Oh, well. Make cookies, come see me and laugh, and all shall be well my pretties.

Snickerdoodles adapted from Baking Illustrated
2 1/4 c. flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 c. Sugar
3/4 c. unsalted butter
1/4 c. shortening
2 eggs
3 Tbsp. Sugar mixed with Tbsp. Cinnamon

Heat yer oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Line two baking trays with parchment. Parchment is perfection. Whisk the flour, cream of tartar, baking soda and salt. Cream the butter, sugar and shortening at medium speed until well combined. Add the eggy-weggs and beat until mixed in. Add the dry ingredients and beat in at low speed. Take big tablespoons of dough and make 1 1/2 ing balls. Roll in the cinnamon-sugar mixture. Put them quite far apart on the tray. These be big cookies. Bake 8-10 minutes rotating halfway. Cool for a few minutes then transfer to a wire rack to totally cool.

Birds! St. Louis! Go go go! And a Mess

I wished for something red to make for you guys, as I am cheering on my Redbirds in the World Series. I wished for something to use up meringues from the column I was writing for Hello Giggles. I wanted something easily gobble-able whilst on my couch screaming for Beltran.

I am running between the aforementioned Giggles, auditions, my third short film to shoot this month, improv shows, improv practice, a new scene study class, and a new assignment from Blackboard Eats.

This is good. I have no brainpower left.

And I apologize or rattling off my to do lists here. I’ll get back to the food.

I made food representative of my mind-state which is A MESS!

Voila, mofos. The Eton Mess.

This meringue recipe was intended for shells to make pavlovas, but I imagine you could just dollop it out for cookies too.

ps yes, I used reddi-whip. I am pretty sure real whipped cream would make this superlative.

Messy Bird Food adapted from a pavlova recipe by America’s Test Kitchen’s Baking Illustrated
For meringues:
• two egg whites
• 1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
• ½ cup sugar
• ¼ tsp. almond extract
• ¼ tsp. vanilla extract
For the rest of dessert:
*whipped cream to your liking
*strawberries, also to your liking
*sugar, if you find it necessary but the meringues and whipped cream will probably do it.
Heat oven to 200 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. If you have a whisk attachment for your mixer, now’s the time to use it. If you are beating these egg whites by hand, I’m sorry. Your arm is going to be sore when you are done. Beat the egg whites at medium-low speed until they are foamy. Add the cream of tartar and increase speed to medium-high. Beat until thick and billow-y like newly lathered shaving cream. Slowly sprinkle in ¼ cup sugar, vanilla and almond extracts. Beat just until incorporated. Turn off mixer. Use whisk to fold in the rest of the sugar. Scoop it out in ¼ cup amounts onto the parchment (you should get six) and use a big spoon to create hollows that you will be putting filling in. I had to do a bit of cheating, spooning extra around the edges to create a basin in the middle. Do what you gotta do. Bake about 1 ½ hours, or until dry and sturdy exteriors. Turn the oven off but leave the shells in for several hours to get dried. If you store these in an airtight container they will keep for about two weeks.
Mash about half the berries. If you think they need sweetening do it now. Some recipes I found for Eton Mess called for layering the elements, others called for folding them all together. I layered. Then I could fold together bite by fluffy bite.

Go Cardinals!

The Sexy Beast. And pretzels.

It came in and conquered.

Yes, I’ve referred to my red KitchenAid food processor as my lover, but this…this being entered like a storm. I had lusted after a red KA mixer for ages. And I got one for my birthday. I had been making due with a hand mixer that no longer would go to it’s highest speed and just stop when faced with a dough that was even remotely stiff.

Suddenly there is a world open to me that was not there before: perfectedly kneaded bread doughs, whipped egg whites, perhaps the ice cream maker attachment will come into my life at some point.

You will note that it is red. Largely because it is so goddamn sexy. It is unnerving just how bodacious a kitchen appliance can be.

It is fitting that I have a red mixer because I am a Cardinals fan. If you are born in St. Louis they inject a hefty dose of Cardinals Baseball into you at birth.

I finally went to a game here in LA:

It is a bloody exciting time. The Cards versus the Dodgers. Whoever wins the series National League Championship Series goes to the World Series.

I hadn’t been to a game in ages and I loved it. Baseball is a meditation laced with moments where a maniac fan-monster takes over your body and you are screaming and hollering like an idiot. And then you settle in and watch some more. Love it.

I had been thinking about pretzels in honor of Octoberfest for a while. And thinking about baseball also had me thinking about pretzels. The big soft kind.

In my mind pretzels are not the sort of thing one can REALLY achieve at home. They are something you go somewhere to get. The only people who make them are the type of people who craft at home other foods you normally buy. Like Oreos.

Who friggin’ makes Oreos? Only overchieving vegans (Oreos are already vegan) and creepy bloggers who somehow think a gluten-free, date-infested, coconut cream-filled thing that looks sorta like an Oreo deserves to be called a “homemade Oreo”. I have news for them: it doesn’t matter what you name that monstrosity, or what it looks like, because it is not an Oreo. It is a travesty.

I thought I couldn’t achieve a pretzel. But I had the power of the Sexy Beast, and there seemed to be no better way to break it in.

I was nervous. I was suspicious. I did not do the best job shaping these. But as I removed them from the oven, I ripped into one. Let it cool for a moment then put it in my mouth.

My god. It was that pretzel taste. With the nice skin on it and everything. Holy moly I felt like a genius. Or a magician. Or Martha Stewart.

Or at least god.

big soft pretzels from America’s Test Kitchen’s Baking Illustrated
1 tsp. instant yeast
1/4 cup honey
1 tsp. salt
3 cups of bread flour plus more as needed
1 cup warm water (about 110 degrees)
Oil for bowl
3 Tbsp. baking soda
2 Tbsp. Kosher salt or otherwise large salt
Mix yeast, honey, salt, flour, and water in a stand mixer. Use a dough hook to knead until the dough forms a smooth, elastic ball, about five-seven minutes, adding a bit of extra flour af absolutely necessary.
Place in an oiled bowl and turn to coat dough with oil. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to rise until doubled, between 45 minutes and 1 1/2 hours. Punch down. Allow to rise until doubled again-30-40 minutes.
Put I’ve rack in the middle and heat oven to 450 degrees. Pour 6 cups of water and baking soda into a 12-inch skillet and heat to a boil.
Meanwhile line a baking heet with foil and spray with nonstick spray.
Divide dough into 12 pieces. Roll into ropes. I failed in getting them to the recommended 20 inches but you can try. Shape into pretzels. If you don’t know what a pretzel is shaped like…just google it. Put them on baking sheet. Use a skimmer or slotted spoon to put them in boiling water, top-side down. After 30 seconds use tongs or something like that to flip and boil another 30 seconds. Make sure they are well drained before you put them back on prepared sheet and sprinkle with salt. Bake between10 and 18 minutes-until nice and brown, turning the baking sheet after about 7 minutes. Remove to wire rack. Admire yourself.

The Things We Ate

I’m giving you two recipes AGAIN this week. Like I did last week.
I am going spoil you silly, my loves.

One recipe is gooooood (see above pic) and one is not. These recipes are both from a vintage cookbook. Chosen because of last week’s occurence.
All this is pre-amble to today’s tale:

Go crazy cooking nerds! I spoke to America’s Test Kitchen. Yep. Me, on the phone with Chris Kimball and Bridget Lancaster. Or B-lanks, as I like to call her. I called their podcast because I was a nerd, with a nerdy question about my nerdy vintage cookbook. Then I geeked out with them about those funny, funny quotes in the book about men and chervil.

Men and herbs. Hilarious.

I was SO NERVOUS. More nervous than when I perform. Well, maybe not quite as nervous as doing stand-up makes me, but I was at least as nervous as I am before an improv show. That’s the comedian’s scale of of nerves, I guess.
Listen to my nerdiness here. I come in around 8 minutes, 26 seconds.

Speaking of nerves, I am only mildly nervous for an improv how this Friday.

Right now my mind is more pre-occupied with nerves for this bloody wrist surgery I am getting Monday. Seems like things in my bionic arm are not in place, and one of the many plates in it needs to be taken out. If you wanna know the full bionic story i chronicled it here.

Yeaaaaaahhhh. It’ll be ok. Maybe I can get someone to take a picture if the innards of my arm. I’d do it, but I’ll be under anesthesia.

It’s FINE. Really. I’m being dramatic here.

Anyway. Food! Lets!

I included the disgusting Mulled Jelly recipe I told my ATK friends about in the interview. Scroll past for the deliciousness that is the other recipe. It is for egg toast. It’s a keeper.

The jelly.
Why bother trying to make it purty?

Grody!
It takes second in the weird department only next to the Dimetapp Pie made by the brilliant MadMan.

God I love italics. I even love the word italics.

Mulled Jelly

1 egg white
1 Tbsp. grape jelly
1 tsp. sugar
1 teacup boiling water
1 large cracker (or very dry toast)
Firstly, ya beat up the first few ingredients. Add agua and keep beating. Crack in the cracker. Choke down in the name of art.

Now the good. Not sure why it is called Nun’s Toast. Much like 1600 Penn today, there are many mysteries in the 1915 White House. Cookbook.
Nun’s Toast adapted from The White House Cookbook
Olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. chopped onion
1 tsp. flour
1/2 c. Almond milk
2 sliced hard-boiled eggs
Sea Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Toast, buttered
Spray a small pan with olive oil and add butter. When it is melted, add onion. When onion is softened, add flour. Add milk stir all until smooth. Add eggs, salt, and pepper to taste. Stir until hot then pour over toast. Which is buttered. Duh.

Radish, butter, salt

It’s just that simple. Cut radish in half. Spread with butter. Sprinkle with fleur de sel.
In other exciting news, I wrote the America’s Test Kitchen podcast with a question and friggin’ got to talk on the phone to Christopher Kimball and Bridget Lancaster. If they air it I’ll link up that shiznit.
There is also this: