Leak #2

The car was making worrisome noises, and shifting was unusually difficult. Then I noticed the temperature gauge was at H.

Oh, that's not good.

I turned down a side street, parked in front of someone's house, and popped open the hood.

Oh, that's not good at all.

Is that where you put the water when the gauge is on H? Is the water spilling out? Why is the water not going where it's supposed to go?

A neighbor noticed my struggles and asked if I needed help. Looks like a crack in the radiator, he said.

Ohhhh. That's not good at ALL.

I wanted to duct tape that bad boy and drive straight to my car place. But the car manual said if the temperature doesn't drop after turning off the engine or the A/C, then the next step is to call a tow truck, so…

Meanwhile, I had parked in the sun. But across the street

The Lord had provided.

The Zoku Ice Cream Maker

It's as easy as the box claims; a recipe for vanilla ice cream is even included. The hardest part is the mixing, for you are essentially churning your own ice cream.

My first attempt was deliciously smooth and creamy.

However,

The recipe is for six servings; the bowl, for one. Six sequential nights of ice cream doesn't sound bad, but when you have to churn it yourself after the day's exhaustion, the prospect is a little less inviting.

My subsequent attempts were less smooth, but I suspect this was because I stored the ice cream base in the coldest part of my fridge, where it is not uncommon for ice crystals to form. Perhaps the base got too cold, resulting in a graininess when churned.

Nonetheless, this is product does what it claims. It would be perfect for a kids party, replete with complaining about the amount of time and elbow grease involved. Everyone would have their own bowl, stir in their own add-ins, create their own personal ice cream.

A personal bonus –this product has whet my appetite for a machine that can make the entire six serving recipe in one go. Because homemade ice cream is delicious.

Culture Fail

The hors d'oeuvre spread was impeccable, particularly the goat cheese filled filo cup topped with a bit of walnut.

It's goat cheese whipped with mascarpone, the Caterer/Restaurant Owner revealed as she handed each of us a yellow envelope. The envelope was beautifully embossed with gold lettering and an image of a rooster.

Do you live in the area? (This shin dig had folks from out of town.) Here's a little something you can use when you visit our restaurant…

Oh - Year of the Rooster! Gung hay fat choy! someone exclaimed.

Gung hay fat choy, I murmured, flipping over the envelope, eager to discover what was inside.

Yes,

In retrospect, the pause was akin to a tired sigh

Lunar New Year. Just a few gift cards…

I don't remember the rest – after determining the nature of the gift cards, I pondered whether to eat another goat cheese yummy.

(I could've easily eaten half the serving tray in under 3 minutes. Those things were delicious.)

Once home, I took the time to admire the beautiful stationary...

Ummm…that's not a Chinese language

Smack my head. Of course Chinese folks aren't the only ones who celebrate Lunar New Year. I suspected (and the Internet confirmed) the language is Vietnamese.

Instead of giving respect to a specific culture, my New Year's greeting reflected the myth that all Asians are all alike. I was horrified. 

It was a Culture Fail, if you will,

A reminder to do better next time.

Candied Lemons (& Limes)

They seem simple enough to make – simmer in simple syrup until supple, set on wax paper, dust with sugar, and let dry. I basically cribbed this recipe.

And since I had a lime, I thought, Why not use it as well?

Citrus simmering in simple syrup

Well…

The limes never got supple enough – the rind remained hard and despite the sugar, the slices were generally inedible. Granted, I did crowd the pan, so they may not have had enough room to get soft. Or perhaps limes have tougher rinds and thus would take longer to soften.

The lemons turned out better. They are a kind of sweet & tart treat – the sweet of the sugar punctuated by the tart of the lemon. I'm only able to have a few slices at a time, and I like the combination of sweet and tart.

I think this would taste good with Meyer lemons or Key limes, which I understand to be the sweeter varieties of their respective fruits. I'm thinking grapefruit would also be good.

Now what to do with the leftover lemon-lime simple syrup...

Coconut Macaroons

Traveling the custard making train requires egg yolks – and usually only egg yolks. What to do with the leftover egg whites?

This time around I tried coconut macaroons.

I don't normally choose these cookies, and I'm not big on coconut. But since I had leftover coconut to get rid of, they seemed to be a good option.

See, every once in a while I want "fancy" fruit salad – drained fruit cocktail mixed with sour cream, with mini marshmallows and sprinkle of coconut folded in. I never need an entire bag of coconut for such endeavors.

I used a version of this recipe, first beating the egg whites to soft peaks, then adding sugar and beating to stiff peaks, then adding the salt and almond extract and beating some more, and finally folding in the coconut.

Basically, this cookie is a sort of coconut meringue. When I pulled mine from the oven, they appeared to have too much meringue, or at least more meringue than coconut.

I had a hard time prying the macaroons off of the parchment paper. If I ever make them again, I'll have to remember to spray the parchment with cooking spray before adding the dollop of coconut meringue.

With burnt bottoms to boot

They taste a'ight. I find the coconut to be a bit overpowering, but this may be because I'm not coo-coo for coconut.

It would taste better dipped in chocolate. Not simply because chocolate makes many things better, but because in this case, the chocolate would both cut and compliment the coconut. A cookie version of a Mounds candy bar, now that I think about it.

Only I don't like Mounds. Or Almond Joy, for that matter. So I probably won't be making these again anytime soon.

Pots de Crème

Next stop on the custard making train: pots de crème. (Pronounced poh-de-crem – think French.)

Specifically, chocolate pots de crème, per this recipe; except I used 8oz of bittersweet chocolate instead of 9oz of whatever chocolate they had.

A tip for newbies like me: The recipe calls for heating the milk/cream/egg mixture on the stove, then pouring the hot liquid over the chocolate (which is in a blender). You may find solid-ish stuff stuck to the bottom of your pot as you pour – DO NOT SCRAPE THOSE SOLIDS INTO THE BLENDER. I am convinced I avoided adding scrambled egg to my dessert by leaving those solids in the pot.

A lick of the spatula before I put them in the fridge suggested good things to come. What I didn't expect was such a luxuriously decadent pot o' chocolate cream. It's my favorite custard yet.

Should you make chocolate pots de crème, I recommend adding a dollop of whipped the cream prior to serving, per the recipe. It would cut and complement the chocolate. I imagine some sort of hazelnut flavored whipped cream would be a lovely.

As in: Use a hand beater or a stand mixer to whip the heavy cream, some sugar, and some hazelnut-flavored something (syrup? liqueur?) into yummy goodness.

Next time I’m going to look for and use a Mexican or Mexican-style chocolate; something that has the chilies and spices already in the chocolate bar.

Creamy chocolate decadence with a little kick. That would do nicely, no?

Mmmmm. Pots o' Chocolate

A Fear

Of people who have no issue with handcuffing a 5-year old

and dragging them away from their mother.

Of people who softly smile at the number of synagogues that have been threatened or vandalized,

the desecration of cemeteries,

the mosques set aflame.

Of people whose eyes twinkled

when a person of the "wrong" ethnicity and color

was murdered in cold blood.

Of people with whom I may be Facebook Friends,

Or am cordial with at work,

Or who say Hello when I get my mail.

Of people who smile sheepishly and say Excuse me as we dance with our shopping carts in the grocery store.

Of people who smile to my face with as genuine a pleasantness as ever there was.

I do not doubt that in the not-so-distant future, I may become a victim.

I do not doubt that because of the color of my skin

or the way I wear my hair

or my name –

I may be targeted.

And my fear,

sitting fitfully just below the surface, 

is that the person doing whatever deed that could be done

Was one who smiled to my face,

as genuine a pleasantness as ever there was.