Ain't no cookie decorator - and turnip soup

A big bowl of turnip soup can cure a a myriad of woes — or at least help soothe a bruised ego.

I knew cake and cookie decorating wasn't my thing when I told C, founder of SpiceLines, that I wanted to participate in her first ever sugar cookie decorating contest.  I wasn't prepared, however, for just how humbling the experience would be. I tried to channel Martha and kept friends' helpful hints and creative suggestions in the back of my mind when I approached this project. (Kitty thought I should dress the camels in party clothes, Rhett suggested using butter icing for more control, Lisa voted for Indian-inspired garb, and Jane pointed out that Martha's staff would actually do the work). I made cookie dough and royal icing, broke out vials of food coloring, and made a big 'ole mess. Such a mess that I couldn't share it with anyone.

So SpiceLines isn't getting photos of my camel cookies — my messily marbled, polka-dotted, and sort-of-geared-up-in-a-circus-outfit camel cookies. I broke the news to C this Friday afternoon, and she was incredibly gracious, confiding that she can't decorate cakes and cookies either. That made me feel better, but I needed a culinary win to really turn my day around. The win came in the form of turnip soup.

This soup is a simple puree — it's a meal when paired with salad and bread. You can use another root vegetable in place of the turnips. Use vegetable stock in place of water for a more flavorful soup.

I think this soup tastes better the day after it's made.


Cream of Turnip Soup
Serves  6

3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 medium leeks, white parts only, thinly sliced
4 garlic cloves, minced
4 large turnips, about 2 pounds, peeled and chopped
2 small yukon gold potatoes, about 1 pound, peeled and chopped
3 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
6-7 cups water or vegetable stock
kosher salt
freshly ground pepper
about 1/3 cup half-and-half or heavy cream
minced chives for garnish

Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed soup pot. Add the leeks and garlic and cook over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes, until softened. Add the turnips, potatoes, thyme leaves and water, a pinch of kosher salt, and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for 30 minutes, until the vegetables are tender.

Puree (I used an immersion blender), adjust seasoning, and add half-and-half or cream if desired. Garnish with minced chives.

What Would Martha Do?

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Decorating camel-shaped sugar cookies sounds like fun, doesn't it? Make a few cookies, break out the royal icing, and spend a few hours playing with sanding sugars. It could, it should, be fun. But right now I'm suffering from some sort of sugar cookie paralysis.

Last month, Chapel Hill food blogger C. of SpiceLines decided to hold a cookie decorating contest. She provided the fabulous camel cookie cutters (the camel is the SpiceLines mascot) and inspiration (the lucky winner will receive a copy of Alice Medrich's Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy Melt-in-Your-Mouth Cookies). April 25, the deadline for entry photos, looms. Baked, naked camels sit on a cookie sheet in my kitchen, sanding sugars and bottles of food coloring gels at the ready. And I have no clue where to start. My initial impulse: camels-masquerading-as-other-animals. Zebra stripes, tiger spots. Purple sanding sugar doesn't really work with this theme, though.

I can't remember the last time I tried to decorate a cookie. So I'm up the proverbial creek, asking myself, "What would Martha do?" Suggestions welcome!

A birthday, a coconut cake, and neglecting the blog

Over the past few weeks I've taken lousy photographs of a marvelous chocolate pound cake, accidentally deleted photographs of a to-die-for chocolate raspberry layer cake, and given up trying to photograph my favorite chicken under a brick recipe in a dim room. In other words, I've totally botched my blog responsibilities.

As much as I enjoy this blog, life often gets in the way. The fact is, I have a full time job in another arena, and food blogging takes more time than I realized. I recently resolved, however, to devote more energy to Cackalackyfoodie than I have in the past few months. I just hope someone is still reading.

It is with renewed vigor that I present you with coconut cake — a spectacular white coconut cake made to mark my friend Kirstin's 42nd year. The birthday girl opted to gather friends at a local bar for the big event, so I toted the cake (and forks and plates) to a pool hall, where the bartender graciously allowed me to use his knife to slice up dessert midway through the festivities. This recipe, found in pastry chef Joanne Chang's book Flour, is a full-on coconut celebration. Coconut milk makes an appearance in both the cake batter and the frosting it's swathed in, the entire creation covered with fistfuls of finely shredded coconut. Kirstin was thrilled with the cake, her husband even more so — he put down his pool cue for seconds.

I made the cake components in stages, baking the cake layers 2 days in advance, making the frosting 1 day ahead, and assembling everything the day it was served. I love the snow-puff look of a coconut cake. It's especially good for those of us who find cake decorating to be, er, a challenge.

You can find coconut milk in the Asian section of most supermarkets. Be sure to purchase coconut milk,  rather than coconut cream, used to make sweet, sticky adult beverages (and usually found in that section of the grocery store).



White Coconut Cake with Coconut Frosting
Adapted from Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston's Flour Bakery + Cafe
Serves 8 to 10

Cake:
2 1/4 cups cake flour
1 1/4 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature, cut into pieces
6 egg whites
1 cup coconut milk
2 cups sweetened shredded coconut
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

Frosting:
1 1/2 cups sugar
6 egg whites
1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature, cut into pieces
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
2/3 cup coconut milk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, placing the rack in the center. Butter and flour two 8-inch round cake pans, or line them with parchment paper.

Sift the cake flour into a large bowl or the bowl of a heavy stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Add the sugar, baking powder and Kosher salt. Combine for a few seconds, setting the mixer speed on low. Add the butter and beat for about 1 minute, until coarse and crumbly.

Combine the egg whites, coconut milk and 1 cup shredded coconut in a medium bowl. Scrape the vanilla bean seeds into this mixture.

Add half of the coconut milk mixture to the flour mixture and beat on medium-high until combined, about a minute. Stop the mixer and scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the remaining wet ingredients at beat for 30 seconds, until the batter is light and fluffy. Divide between the 2 prepared cake pans.

Bake for 35-45 minutes (mine took 40 minutes), until the tops are firm and golden. Allow the cakes to cool completely in the pans on a wire rack.

To make the frosting: Whisk the sugar and egg whites together in a small heatproof bowl. Place the bowl over a pot of simmering water (the bowl should NOT touch the water) and whisk for 6-8 minutes, until hot to the touch. The sugar will melt, thinning the mixture.

Remove the bowl from the heat and scrape the contents into the bowl of a stand mixer. Using the whip attachment, set the speed to medium-high and whip for 6-8 minutes (mine actually took 9-10 minutes), until a light color and cool to the touch. Reduce the speed to low and add the butter a few chunks at a time. Turn the speed up to medium and mix until completely incorporated, about 4-5 minutes. The frosting will look curdled at first, but keep whipping — it will come together.

Add vanilla extract, Kosher salt, and coconut milk to the frosting and whip another 1-2 minutes; the frosting should be smooth. Use the frosting within 30 minutes or store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 1 day, though it must be beaten until smooth before using. It can also be refrigerated for up to 2 weeks. Bring to room temperature and beat with the stand mixer using the paddle attachment until smooth before using.

Remove the cakes from their pans and level the top of each cake with a serrated knife. Place one cake layer onto a cake plate or pedestal (I put mine on a cardboard round and placed it on a revolving cake stand for easier decorating). Put 2 cups of frosting on top and spread it evenly to the edges using an offset spatula. Place the second layer top-side down on top of the first. Smooth about 1 cup of frosting on top and down the sides of the cake. Refrigerate for 20 minutes (this sets the crumb coat).

Beat the remaining frosting with a spoon to keep it creamy. Spoon it on the cake, spreading it on the top and sides. Press the remaining shredded coconut (1 cup) onto the top and sides of the cake.

The cake can be stored in a airtight container in a cool place for up to 3 days.

Nancy's Cheese Souffle

Friday evenings used to be a night out, an opportunity to let off steam at week's end. Just a few year ago I'd leave work promptly at 5 p.m. and meet friends for happy hour, welcoming the weekend with a glass of wine and a few fancy bar snacks. These days I'm far more likely to sit on the couch with the DVD remote and a large glass of seltzer water at the end of the week. Is it a sign of age or good sense? I'm not sure, but I know a slower Friday routine seems to suit me. 

That said, I hate to be anti-social, and curling up alone on the sofa can be isolating. When my friend Cathy invited me to dinner last Friday night I happily accepted. It was a great break from my stay-at-home routine, low-key but entertaining. We caught up over a delightful homemade meal — cheese souffle served alongside a crisp green salad. Rich but not heavy, the souffle was warm and comforting, its golden brown top rising a few inches above the rim of the casserole dish, wobbling oh-so-softly when removed from the oven. 


I love cheese souffle as a main course, but it would make a lovely starter to a larger meal. Experiment with different cheeses — I'm fond of Roquefort souffles accompanied by a salad of peppery watercress dressed with lemon.


Cathy followed her mother Nancy's recipe. It's wonderful.

Cheese Souffle

Recipe from Nancy Bryson

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup milk

4-6 eggs, separated (depending on how many you're feeding)

2 cup grated cheese (Cathy used cheddar)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Melt butter in large saucepan over medium heat.  Whisk in flour.  Add the milk, stirring constantly. Beat the egg yolks and add to the white sauce. Take off heat and stir in grated cheese.  Whip egg whites until stiff and fold into cheese sauce. Place in lightly greased souffle dish and bake for about 30 minutes. Serve immediately.

An emergency vet visit, general exhaustion, and a coddled egg

Tired and cranky. Those words best described my mood before I discovered that my dog, Gus, had scratched a couple of sutures out of his face Sunday morning. Stitches that were oh-so-carefully put into place after a biopsy last week. After parting with a gazillion (more) dollars at the emergency veterinary clinic that morning, I returned home pretty much exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, but it was after noon, my stomach was empty, and I knew I needed to consume something moderately healthy if I had any chance of making it to Monday.

My refrigerator's contents determined the midday meal, though I was interested only in warm, comforting dishes, things that would make the world seem a little less topsy-turvy. Eggs were the only available protein source, but a quick scramble or omelet wasn't special enough. I needed a mood-changer, something outside of my regular routine. Enter the coddled egg.

As the name implies, coddled eggs are cooked very gently, almost indulgently. Cracked into a coffee cup or ramekin that's placed into a larger dish filled with hot water, coddled eggs cook slowly with this  until the whites are firm and yolks straddle the line between set and slightly runny. Plain coddled eggs are nice, but I always tart them up a bit, placing cooked vegetables or a piece of toasted bread and cheese in the bottom of the container. The result? A more interesting, flavorful dish, one that's worth a little bit of effort.

I made creamed spinach to accompany my egg, but any cooked vegetable will do. I've used sauteed mushrooms, quickly cooked tomato tossed with cracked olives,  even a few tablespoons of leftover mashed potatoes sprinkled with fresh herbs. Just spoon a bit of the selected veg (or meat) into the bottom of a buttered ramekin, crack an egg on top, and create a bain marie — breakfast (or lunch, or dinner) will be ready within 30 minutes.

Coddled Egg with Creamed Spinach

Serves 1 (with lots of extra spinach)

1/2 cup cream

2 garlic cloves, smashed

1/2 small onion

1 large bunch of spinach, stems remove, finely chopped

Kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

nutmeg, grated

1 egg

soft butter

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Scald the cream with garlic and onion in a small saucepan (small bubbles will come to the surface  — shut off the heat and set aside).

Cook the spinach in a few teaspoons of butter until the pan is dry. Strain the cream and pour it into the pan with the spinach. Bring to a simmer and allow it to thicken. Season with salt, pepper, and a few gratings of nutmeg.

Place a few tablespoons of creamed spinach in to buttered ramekin. Crack an egg into the ramekin, then place it in a small ovenproof pan (Pyrex is a great choice). Bring water to a boil in a kettle, then pour just enough of it into the pan that contains the ramekin to come 3/4 way up its side. Place the pan into a preheated oven and baked for 20-25 minutes, until the egg is set. The white will be firm, the yolk still runny when broken into. Serve with toast.

Hoppin' John

My friend Caroline saved me from a year of poor luck and bad finances.

I've been making (and enjoying) Hoppin' John on New Year's Day for some time, but this year I zoned out. Hoppin' John, a tasty melange of black-eyed peas and rice, is said to bring good fortune to those who consume it on January 1.  When we spoke on New Year's Day, Caroline asked if I'd eaten the requisite foods, and I realized I'd spaced out. I promptly turned the car around and drove to the grocery. Within 30 minutes I was back home, black-eyed peas and tomatoes in hand, ready to whip up a batch of Hoppin' John.

Recipes for Hoppin' John vary wildly. Some versions call for the tomatoes (and sometimes other vegetables, like peppers) to be cooked with rice; others simply combine black-eyed peas and onion with plain rice. I stick with a slight variation of Bill Neal's version — soft, somewhat mushy, ham-flavored peas served atop white rice to create a joyous starch-on-starch medley punctuated by fresh tomato and green onion. It's a fabulous combination of warm, earthy carbs and bright vegetables that should be eaten throughout the year.

Hoppin' John
Adapted from Bill Neal's Southern Cooking
Serves 4 to 6

2 cooked cooked black-eyed peas
2 cups cooked white rice
1 cup fresh tomato, chopped
1/2 cup scallions, finely sliced
Kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
Cheddar cheese, grated (optional)

Black-eyed peas:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 onion, diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
3 cups fresh black-eyed peas
2 ounces country ham or pork sidemeat
2 bay leaves
2 dried red chiles
water to cover

Heat the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pan over medium flame. Add the onion and garlic, a pinch of Kosher salt, and cook gently until softened, but not browned. Add the remaining ingredients and cover with water by 2 inches. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, skimming away any scum that initially floats to the surface. Cook until the peas are tender; this will take about 25-30 minutes, depending on the freshness and quality of the peas.

Combine the cooked rice and black-eyed peas in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the tomato and scallion, season with Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper. Stir, cover, and allow to heat through. Add grated cheddar cheese if desired.

Fever, chills and lentil soup

I knew I was in trouble Sunday night. I had every blanket in the house heaped on me, I'd jacked the thermostat up to 75 degrees, I was wearing flannel pajamas, and still I was shivering, freezing cold despite my best efforts. I've recovered after two days at home with multiple mugs of TheraFlu, lots of sleep, and a little light reading.


What to do the night before returning to work? Make a big pot-o-lentil soup, of course.


This is the soup I wish I'd had in the freezer, ready to be reheated and enjoyed when I caught this nasty cold + fever + chills thing. Hearty and flavorful, I find this earthy soup very comforting. It smacks of all that is right with rustic peasant fare.  A few basic ingredients combine to create a dish that warms the body and soul on a cold afternoon. The best part — it tastes even better the next day, when the ingredients have a chance to meld.


As always, use only high quality ingredients; old veggies make for a lackluster soup. I used both homemade vegetable stock and water in this batch, but chicken stock works well. A sprinkle of freshly chopped parsley and a good crusty bread are the only garnishes required. Don't forget to drizzle a few teaspoons of red wine vinegar in at the end to brighten the flavor.

Lentil Soup
Makes 6 servings

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 small onions, finely diced
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 carrots, finely diced
2 celery stalks, finely diced
1 1/2 cups French green lentils, picked over and rinsed
1 28 oz. can whole peeled plum tomatoes, drained and diced
2 quarts vegetable broth, chicken stock, or water
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
a few teaspoons red wine vinegar
Kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper

Heat the olive oil in a large heavy-bottomed pot over a medium-low flame. Add the onion and garlic and cook slowly, until softened but not browned, about 5-6 minutes. Add a pinch of Kosher salt, stir, and add carrots and celery. Cook another 3-4 minutes. Add the green lentils, diced tomatoes and broth, stock or water. Cook until the lentils are cooked through, about 25-30 minutes.

Season to taste with salt, pepper, and a few teaspoons of red wine vinegar. Garnish with freshly chopped parsley.

Christmas Eve + Banana Bread

It's 4 p.m. on Christmas Eve and I'm baking.

I'm at my own home this evening, but tomorrow I'll drive to my parents' house, a fresh loaf of whole wheat banana bread in tow. This is the quick bread I often bring as a hostess gift around the holidays, when everyone is inundated with plates of cookies and confections (very few of which are worth the calories). 

Last weekend's banana bread recipients were pleased — one friend consumed it at least twice a day and swore it was never-ending, like the loaves and fishes. A scoop of ice cream turns it into dessert, but I love it lightly toasted alongside a cup of coffee. The highlights of the recipe: sour cream for moisture, dark brown sugar for a more complex flavor, and whole wheat flour for a firmer texture.

I discovered this recipe in Molly O'Neill's New York Cookbook, a terrific compendium of stories and recipes for a truly astonishing array of dishes, from falafel to Southern-style greens to chopped liver (yes, chopped liver). This banana bread keeps for about 4 days at room temperature if well-wrapped. Best of all, it freezes beautifully.

My apologies for the far-from-ideal photo. It's getting dark — no natural light to be had. Merry Christmas!


Whole Wheat Banana Bread
Adapted from New York Cookbook
Makes 1 loaf

1 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
1 1/3 cups dark brown sugar
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon basking soda
1/4 cup sour cream
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed ripe bananas, about 2 medium

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease a 9x5x3 1/2 inch loaf pan with butter or Baker's Joy spray.

Cream the softened butter and brown sugar together. Add the eggs and vanilla and beat together. Combine the baking soda and sour cream, then beat this mixture into the batter.

Sift together the whole wheat flour, all-purpose flour and salt. Alternately add the flour mixture and the mashed bananas to the batter and mix until well combined.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, spreading it evenly into the corners. Bake until a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, about 1 hour. Allow it to cool on wire rack.

Carrot-Apple-Ginger Soup



It's cold outside. Really cold.

Temperatures took a dive into the teens Tuesday night, so my evening walk with the dog was very brief (i.e. down the street and back).  The weather also affected the dinner menu. A cold salad? No way. I rummaged through the fridge and opted to make Carrot-Apple-Ginger soup.

This soup, or a variation thereof, was a standby when I attended culinary school back in the early 1990s. It was a new flavor combination for me, having grown up on cans of Campbell's chicken noodle and tomato soup, with the occasional tin of cream of mushroom thrown in on special occasions. I was amazed that simply simmering a few ingredients together could result in something so rich and flavorful.

Carrot-Apple-Ginger soup lends itself to a myriad of interpretations. Use pear in place of apple, a winter squash instead of carrot — just don't leave out the ginger. It provides the underlying oomph that makes this simple soup something special.

Carrot-Apple-Ginger Soup

2 teaspoons vegetable oil

2 teaspoons butter

1 onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 celery stalk, chopped

1 1/2 pounds carrots, peeled and chopped

2 apples, peeled and chopped

3-inch piece of ginger, peeled and minced

5-6 cups chicken stock, vegetable stock, or water

Kosher salt

freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil and butter in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add the onion, garlic, celery, and a pinch of salt, cooking until the vegetables are soft but not brown, about 5 minutes. Add the carrots, apples and ginger, cook for a minute or two, then add the stock or water. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook until the carrots are soft (about 25 minutes) then puree with a blender (immersion or standing) adding more liquid as needed. Season to taste and serve.

Best ever cranberry relish

I spent Thanksgiving in Los Angeles this year. It was lovely: the people, the food, the weather. The weather! A bit cooler than usual, Southern California's sunny skies were still a nice change from the truly cold temperatures back home. I helped with the food, but I simply followed someone else's recipes. Everything was good, but one thing was missing — Jasper White's Cranberry Relish.


Cranberry sauce made an appearance on the Thanksgiving table and it was very,very good, but it lacked the caramelized sugar, fresh ginger and white pepper that make Jasper White's zesty version my hands down favorite. It's graced my own Thanksgiving table annually since I first discovered the recipe in White's outstanding book, Cooking From New England (out of print, but worth searching for).

When I landed at RDU, my mind turned immediately to the bags of cranberries I'd purchased before the holiday and stashed in the freezer. Happily I had all of the necessary ingredients in the fridge and pantry, so pulling it together took just a few minutes. This relish is good enough to eat straight out of the pan, but I saved most of it for turkey-cranberry sandwiches.

I eyeball my ingredients, and probably add more lemon juice, white pepper and ginger than called for in the recipe that follows. Taste and adjust quantities as you see fit, but trust me, this is close to perfect.

Cranberry Relish
Adapted from Cooking From New England
Makes about 3 cups

2 oranges
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 teaspoons fresh ginger, julienned
1 12-oz. bag cranberries, fresh or frozen
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground white pepper

Finely grate the zest of one orange and set aside. Squeeze the juice from both oranges into a small bowl.

Combine the sugar and freshly squeezed lemon juice into a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Cook until the sugar begins to turn a light brown, washing down the sides of the pan with a little water if needed to prevent burning.

When the sugar is caramelized, add the julienned ginger and orange zest. Continue to cook for about 1 minute. Add the cranberries, orange juice, and white pepper. Increase the heat to medium-heat and continue to cook, stirring frequently, for 5-7 minutes, until the berries pop and are broken but not mushy. Remove from the heat and cool.

Snow! And Havremel Flatbrod

It snowed last night. In other parts of the country, this isn't unusual. But in central North Carolina, it doesn't necessarily snow every year, and wintry white flakes are uncommon in early December. I took a cue from Mother Nature and holed up at home. Chicken stock simmered slowly on the stove and I rummaged through the pantry for a crunchy snack. There were none to be found, so I took note of available ingredients, then browsed through Bernard Clayton's Complete Book of Small Breads for a recipe, settling on Havremel Flatbrod, or Norwegian Oatmeal Flatbread.

These crackers are slightly sweet, crispy, and addictive (the dog loves them). The dough is sticky and wet, and was a little difficult to work with. Clayton recommends using a pastry cloth and pastry sleeve-covered rolling pin, but I settled on smearing it across parchment paper with a flexible plastic dough scraper (and used my fingers). The result was a thicker cracker that took longer to cook than the recipe indicates — but I was still pleased.

Clayton writes that this flatbread is traditionally served with cheese, spreads, and soups, but I've been munching on them straight out of my handy Tupperware container. They should last for weeks stored this way, but I don't expect them to be around that long.

Havremel Flatbrod
Adapted from The Complete Book of Small Breads
Makes 1 pound

2 tablespoons sugar
3/4 cup melted unslated butter
1/2 heaping teaspoon Kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
3 cups all-purpose flour or 2 cups all-purpose flour and 1 cup whole wheat flour
2 cups quick-cooking oats


Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Combine the sugar, melted butter and salt in a large bowl. In a separate container, combine the buttermilk and baking soda. Alternately add the flour and the buttermilk to the sugar-butter mixture, then stir in the oatmeal. If you're using a heavy duty mixer, use the paddle attachment and mix for 2 minutes, adding a bit of flour if needed. Knead for 4 minutes.

Working with 1/3 cup of dough at a time, roll it into a ball and then flatten it onto the pastry cloth. Roll it paper-thin with a rolling pin covered in a pastry sleeve. Roll it onto the rolling pin, then unroll it onto a baking sheet. If you don't have a pastry cloth and rolling pin sleeve, spread the dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet with a dough scraper, using your fingers as necessary.

Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 8-10 minutes, until lightly browned (my thick flatbread took close to 17 minutes). Slide the flatbread onto a metal rack to cool, and break into pieces.

Popcorn meals

I've been away from the blogosphere for too long, but the truth is, I haven't cooked much worth writing about in the past few weeks. There were a few batches of what I'll call Disappointing Muffins (not worth posting)  and I've spent a lot of time eating this:

Popcorn, straight out of the microwave bag. Who needs a recipe for that?

I am trying to get out my funk, and have a few blog-worthy items in the hopper, so I hope to return soon with a few tales and recipes to share. I hope you'll stay tuned.