Secretly Broke the Ice

So I did write that guy who might not like oatmeal raisin cookies, out of sheer frustration, I think, to see if...jeez, he might even want to meet me on a street corner to see if...if...we might even like talking to each other. Total embarrassment.

Which is maybe how I even started the email to him—address taken from his website—and whatever my tone was, or however he read it, somehow, some way, he seemed to think I was a newly divorced momma. I only skimmed the response, knowing how one does that it was a no-go before I even opened it, and though he was very sweet, I saw his emphatic, "It will get better" at the end. Aaargh! I've had two two-plus years relationships since my divorce, and frankly, it's only gotten worse!

Aaah, well. At least I did break the ice, for myself anyway.

I'd make corn bread right now, except tomorrow is quick bread, muffin, and scone day at the baking/pastry school, so I'll opt out.

But here's what I would have made, to soothe my wounded romantic ego. In honor of my ex-mother-in-law, who is no longer alive. She didn't like me much—possibly because I'm Jewish—but she loved Judy, and was an incredible quilter. She made this corn bread every day of her adult life.

TOOTIE'S CORN BREAD

Careful with this one! Hot stuff!

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

1 cup corn meal
3/4 cup flour
2 Tablespoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons sugar

Mix ingredients together, then add:

1 1/3 cup milk
1 egg

Meanwhile, put 1/4 cup oil in 8x8 pan, put in oven, and heat until super hot.

Pour batter in heated pan, and bake 15-20 minutes.

Note: The hotter the oil, the better, 'cause then the corn bread is as if deep fried. Personally, I'm afraid of the hot oil, so I never heat it enough, and then the corn bread is not as good as it could be.

I Didn't Go To Work Today

Daughter Judy out sick for second day in a row, though it should have been a snow day. Called in myself, because...what're ya gonna do?

Flipped Parmesan omelet for breakfast for D.J. and myself, and now am proofreading a book that could have been commissioned by SarahPAC (Ms. Stalin's, I mean Ms. Palin's new political action team)—except it's a reprint! Something about the end of the world because the liberals took away all gun control; it's more than bothersome that masses of people demand this type of reading material, and further, that some previous writer, editor, and/or copy editor/proofreader never figured out how to use an apostrophe correctly. As in, "How many XK4000's are we going to make them wipe their asses with today, sir?"

Am going to try not to make chocolate chip cookies today, because I don't really need to eat them, but if I do—and I swear by the Toll House recipe—I use the old-fashioned version, from my day (when D.J. thinks there wasn't any electricity), which calls for 6 Tablespoons of granulated sugar and 6 Tablespoons of brown sugar (they call for dark, but I usually use light), not the respective 1/3 and 1/2 cups of sugar the recipe now dictates.

Changed my mind. I will take out my butter to let it get to room temperature.

I Don't Want To Go To Work Tomorrow

Since I couldn't stop looking up my Italian ex-boyfriend on the web (and one can find out a LOT of stuff that way), I thought I'd at least add this recipe to the mix, because...I freaking feel like it.

I don't exactly have the guy's permission, though I did write it down right in front of his oft-wandering green eyes. But in the spirit of new, irreverent beginnings (2009, Obama, and my new baking/pastry quasi-career), I'm now taking the liberty of offering up the recipe, as this is the most amazing pastry cream I've e'er to eat. With or without the Italian.

(I can't remember if this is his aunt's recipe—in name and not blood, and a woman who sounds like the most amazing cook I've ever heard of—or his mother's, or someone else's.) The mindset of the recipe was a bit challenging to follow, which is how I remember Luca, so I tried to change it to suit us mere mortal types.

LUCA'S ITALIAN PASTRY CREAM

Yield: enough to have a good time with, or at least fill an enormous batch of profiterole shells

4 egg yolks
8 Tablespoons sugar
500 milliliters milk, approximately 2+ cups
4 Tablespoons flour
Little bit of vanilla extract
Several large pieces of lemon rind

In a medium-sized stove pot, mix egg yolks and sugar until super smooth.

Add milk slowly, alternating with the flour, and continue back and forth between the two. Mix thoroughly until smooth.

Place on stove over low flame/heat.

Add vanilla extract and lemon rind.

Stir continuously, in counterclockwise direction (apparently very important—I haven't dared try it the other way), on low flame/heat until consistency is right. Approximately 20 minutes.

Chill for 40 minutes.

• For Chocolate Cream: omit vanilla and lemon rind, and before cooking, add 4 Tablespoons cocoa.

• For Chantilly Cream: add a little whipped cream to pastry cream once it's cooled.

Land It in the Hudson

I was trying to coordinate a set-up with one of my mother's best friend's divorced sons who is apparently single again (for a day), and is actually quite a good match for me, but that immediately fell by the wayside. According to today's dose of urbandictionary.com, I may as well land that sucker in the Hudson.

My mother did agree he was cute, though, but then suggested he might like oatmeal raisin cookies. (See "Stop Looking Up My Ex-Boyfriend on the Web.") Aaargh!

Actually, when I checked in on the single-for-a-day guy's visual art website, he wasn't the young Tom Hanks-type I remembered him to be. In fact, despite his prolific artistry and impressive success, he was kind of intense looking. Kind of like a guy who definitely would NOT like oatmeal raisin cookies.

Stop Looking Up My Ex-Boyfriend on the Web

Day 1 of baking/pastry arts culinary program: hilarious. Plus, this is like my millionth career, I'm not proud to say.

Received a beautiful pastry kit in black (think Top Chef), plus hat and apron, yellow spiral notebook, and shiny heavy textbook from Le Cordon Bleu (not to be confused with, or pronounced the same as, Disney's Corbin Bleu). Still awaiting the rest of my gnarly uniform, the pants of which I can apparently wear over my jeans. Not! Had to get save-a-disaster styling tips from daughter Judy, which included my Juicy Couture pretty bow earrings (which she'd picked out for me one day when I was feeling sorry for myself and had given her $40 to buy me something on Bleecker Street), and my brand new navy blue low top Converse, probably the only sneaker in the world right now that is not on sale.

In that classroom with twenty desks, five other game students (two were apparently missing), one work-study type assistant, and one teacher/chef, I sensed a lot of white sugar and processed flour. But there was plenty of early morning natural light, and I'd situated myself right by the window. My first day of...gulp...trade school was about to begin.

Study of the week: cookies. My cookie: oatmeal raisin. Drop cookie. Creaming method. Finally got to use a KitchenAid, which turned out to be very hands-off, which I'm going to have to get used to. (I wasn't even allowed to scrape the sides of the bowl with my new Top Chef spatula, though next time I will definitely steal a swipe.)

They came out looking great, if I may say so, though way too huge (was instructed to use an ice-cream scoop, and now know what a two-ounce cookie looks like). Flavor pretty good, too (though too much sugar), but texture like a muffin top because either 1) I didn't drain my raisins, which had been soaking in once-boiling water, thoroughly, and/or 2) because the super cool instructor couldn't read her decimals properly, but convinced me she could, when she told me .25 was twice as great as .5. As in baking soda and baking powder. So there wasn't enough of one of those.

Best cookie of the group (though not the cutest): brownie, officially a sheet cookie (not a bar cookie). Made by the one man in the class, an older guy, though probably younger than I, who's been in the restaurant biz for twenty years. Gingersnaps could have been good, too, but made with Crisco. Will have to adapt recipe.

Next week: quick breads, scones, muffins, biscuits. Will read section in Corbin Bleu's diary beforehand, then volunteer to make the item that does not use Crisco.

Already did my homework—ten questions on cookie preparedness, plus extra credit regarding Nabisco's (National Biscuit Company's) 1912 cookie introduction to the world: the Oreo. God, how I miss George Carlin. Now what the fuck would he say about that oh, so important, ground-breaking invention?

Tip of the week for cookie recipes, though I haven't tried this at home yet, and am kind of afraid to, but: did you know that when you cream the butter and sugar together before adding the dry ingredients, that salt and any additional spices should be mixed with the butter (for more even mixing), and NOT with the dry ingredients?

One Resolution Begun...

I recently signed up for a 100-hour pastry arts/baking program at a not-top-level culinary school here in NYC.

This is my idea of being practical, as I can't work as a copy editor/proofeader/manuscript reader at a faux smut palace forever. Most recently, I was rejected from a super cool playwrighting workshop, and further, have gotten no response to my latest dream job submission for work on The Daily Show.

It's the new year. I can't get anyone to read, much less consider, my latest piece of dramatic writing, DONKEY DILEMMA; my best hope at this point still finds the play somewhere in a slush pile (albeit at a high level theater) for at least three more months. I had a fling over the holidays which turned into a quasi-disaster, and my totally tween daughter is dissing me tonight for basically...existing!

Alas, somehow, someway, I'm going to integrate learning how to bake delicious treats into my writing—thus The Irreverent Family Cookbook—and figure out how to get something going, for fuck's sake!

P.S. I miss George Carlin, and my ex-boyfriend.

Welcome!

Here's another blog that's going to explore the connection between food and life. Jeez, have we not seen enough of these?

Welcome to The Irreverent Family Cookbook, which will include real-world favorites—from one dysfunctional family to another—such as the only dish my being-with-him-is-a-meditation-unto-itself ex-husband ever made, but damn if it wasn't the best I've ever had.

Plus, Daughter Judy—the high point of my marriage to the aforementioned thorn in my side—will only accept her dad's version of this classic. Unfortunately for her, the guy lives on the other side of the country...

THORN-IN-MY-SIDE GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICH

One serving

Butter, butter, butter, slightly softened
Two slices of bread
Whatever cheese you like
Thin tomato slices, optional

Slather both sides of both pieces of bread with butter. Put two or three slices of cheese on one piece of bread. Top neatly with tomato slices, if desired. Close sandwich.

On low heat, melt more butter in a skillet. Add sandwich, watch carefully, and flip often so bread does not burn. Ultimately, cheese should be melted, and bread nicely browned.

Turn onto a plate. Cut in four pieces. (That is important for the design of the dish.) Serve immediately.

Am still perfecting this dish...