Jiggs Dinner Year Round

Every year at the end of our Christmas day meal of Corned Beef and New England vegetables we and the rest of the Hess family look at each other and ask why it is that corned beef isn't a more standard meal throughout the year?

As it sits in the slowcooker for 5-6 hours, the house comes to smell a bit otherworldly and the meat, when done, is by far the most tender – almost to the point of being a compact gelatin – of any meat we've ever tried.  Find a good 3-4 l.b. brisket and drop into the slow cooker, fat side up, along with sliced onions, six cloves, orange zest, a bay leaf, and the seed packet that comes standard with each meat package, and within two hours the house begins to smell like the dream of an Irish farmhouse kitchen, with the deeply salted meat commingling (sorry, English-major type) with a sharp under aroma of citrus.  This is only the beginning.  The brisket comes out of the slow cooker so delicate that it barely holds together held on a fork, and then you set it on a pan, spread a layer of dijon mustard and brown sugar over it, and bake. The topping becomes something of a sweet but tangy pudding. Sweet, salty, rich meat that eats something like a dessert. Surrounded with cabbage, carrots and potatoes boiled in the remaining meat liquid and you have a holiday dish that might only be rivaled by a perfect prime rib roast.  Ham, turkey?  Not even close.  Jiggs, from the old popular cartoon Bringing Up Father, like most of the rest of us who have sampled, apparently couldn't pass up a corned beef and cabbage meal, harkening back to his own old world Irish heritage.  The cartoon popularized the meal in America to the point that corn beef and cabbage was often referred to as a 'Jiggs Dinner.'  A Jiggs Dinner year round sounds like a good idea.

Popovers

The picture above is of nutmeg and black pepper popovers out of a magazine; the picture below is of nutmeg and black pepper popovers out of my oven

At first look, it seems like an ok attempt at a fairly simple recipe including a bunch of flour, parsley, salt, pepper, nutmeg, eggs, milk and butter, but if I would have had the courage I would have quickly taken another picture of mine again in fifteen seconds when all those soft domes caved in on themselves leaving...I don't know what...pops with no overs...?  The taste ended up alright, but the popover wasn't full as I assumed it would be.  Despite having coated the muffin cups with butter, as advised, the batter had mostly stuck to the paper, and was still too soft in the middle.  What I learned later, looking back through Ruhlman's Twenty is that when you are making popovers, flour absorption is critical so "the batter rests before you cook it, resulting in a popover with an almost creamy center."  You don't beat the ingredients in this case, but fold it in lightly, and either let it sit for an hour or even refrigerate over night, so to thicken and congeal.  The other mistake I made was over filling my cups, beyond the three quarter line suggested.  The idea is that the popover quickly rises out of its cup and if the batter is filled too high it reaches upward, takes too much heat and crisps while the center is still in need of baking and stays more goopy.  The result is a thin roof that collapses and a lower level that sticks.  Oh well, we shall try again with more time built-in for 'resting' the batter.

Zest


One of the funnest things about cooking dishes with a lot of ingredients is being able to ask the eaters if they can taste the secret ingredient (or two) that you've put in there.  As a novice cook, I've 'put in' all kinds of secret duds over the years, or secrets like, say, capers, that probably should have been withheld in the first place, seeing as my own audience is almost all kids under 15.  But then sometimes you get one right, and what you just cooked yourself has that same wonderful and complex flavor that you hear the Food Network judges so often articulate in shows like Chopped or Iron Chef.  I had been reading a book called Ruhlman's Twenty: 20 Techniques, 100 Recipes, A Cook's Manifesto two nights ago in the chapter called Acid: The Power of Contrast, in which he elaborates on the point that acidic liquids like citrus juices, vinegars and mustards, although often overlooked as primary seasoning techniques, are actually second only to salt in enhancing taste in ingredients, and should be staples close at hand.  He said the first of importance, "by a good mile or so," is lemon juice.  The next day I decided I wanted to make some Boboli home made pizzas, and happened to find a recipe in one of Bobbie Flay's cookbooks Bar Americain.

This recipe was to be bacon, parsley, some gruyure cheese, caramelized onions, and garlic on handmade dough.  It looked excellent, but I wanted to add a few of my own ingredients to a pizza and ended up putting-in thick smoked bacon, baby portobello mushrooms sauteed in garlic along with chopped red peppers, a bit of broccoli for coarse texture, parsley, gruyere and mozzeralla cheeses, plus one secret ingredient.  At first, Jan guessed the parsley, then the gruyure.  Not quite.  What was that final 'spring' of taste you get when you bite down into the pizza? Something, something that added a splash of flavor.  If you look closely on the surface of the pizza above, and on the pizza we made, it is the shavings of lemon zest that added that extra something

Ruhlman goes on to say, "More foods than not are elevated with the addition of lemon juice.  Always have a lemon on hand.  Salt, onion, lemon – a kitchen without these items is handicapped."  All of this, to me, would make for a defense for creating and enjoying complex foods as long as ingredients don't become garbled.  Most of what we cook could use heightening by contrast.  Deep smoky bacon.  Lemon zest.

Pumpkin Addiction


There have been weeks when we go through Starbucks drivethrough at least twice for their perfect pumpkin bread.  Carly's addicted.  If she even smells that we're close to highway 16 she will, without thinking, shake her six year old nose like Samantha used to in Bewitched,

and call out "Daddy, Starbucks?  Pumpkin bread is good for you.  There's a vetchatable in it." She's got me there.  We've tried making our own over the years, secretly competing with Starbucks and haven't quite got there, until, maybe, almost...last night

The recipe was pretty straightforward, with Libby's canned pumpkin, brown sugar, eggs, etc., but what set these over the pumpkin patch edge was pumpkin pie spice and the smooth icing eventually whipped and spread over the top.  Our own batch came out close to the glossy magazine page above, but with one exception – I found out you do HAVE TO cool your bars, brownies, cake, whatever, before spreading the powder sugar based frosting over the top.  If you don't, the moisture from the warm cake rises and gathers at the top and mixes with the frosting, which then slips off the roof like snow on a house

The bars up through the center of the pan are still almost perfect -- to the point of 3 and 4 star reviews from the Hess girls -- but the upper left bar has lost its top.  Oh well -- we staved off at least two runs through 'Bucks' with this attempt, and these were even softer.

Comfort (?) Inn


This past weekend Julia and I found ourselves in Eau Claire for two days at the UW for eight games of Suns' ball.  The team played quite well once again, won 7-8 for third place out of a 32 team League Championship Invitational. The team is now, for the season, 15-1

with the one loss on sunday to Bloomer, a game lost by only two points.  What you figure out quickly with these rigorous weekend tournaments is that you have to keep track of your team schedule and win / loss brackets to make sure you're in the right place at the right time throughout the day.  The team wins a game, then you get to mill around the auditorium for two hours waiting for the next game, so you have to stay sharp, stay focused, or else you end up in the wrong gym at the wrong time, and there are coaches and teammates looking for you.  Not that this would ever happen to Julia and I, of course, but there are close calls. I thought we were supposed to play three games on sat., but found out there was ONE more at 6:30.  After we won the game the assistant coach said we were set to play sunday at 11:00...so a late night on sat., yes, BUT we all get to hang out and sleep-in sunday so to freshen those eleven year old legs that have been beating up and down the court all day.  This was the last piece of tourney info. I received before Julia and I headed to bed fairly early, whipped, and ready for a little Food Network in the comfort of our Comfort Inn beds.  Morning came.  7, 7:30.  Seems like a lot of noise in the surrounding rooms.  Better shave and take a shower to take a look around and get a cup of coffee.  I poke my head out of the door at 8:00, and there is half the team walking down the hall, dressed in playing uniforms.  "What time is the game?"
"Nine."
"Oh."
"What time should we be at UW"
"Ten minutes."
"Oh.

Juliaaaa! time to get out of bed"


We made it through the fog, snow, sleet and whatever else they could throw at us to the game in plenty of time...at least thirty seconds before mandatory meeting time.  Oops.  We didn't hear the news at 10 the night before about the time change.

The kids played well in the first game, but lost the second.  By the final game, Julia did an excellent 'box out',  worked on her fast break sprinting, and crouching while on D.

We may be tired for a week, still a bit confused on playing times, and hear the squeaking of b-ball shoes in our sleep, but we did get third.

Good Grief


12/12/12


It is four in the afternoon and some combination of the waft of the chicken roasting in the oven, the snow melting off the neighbors' eaves against the blue sky, and Jan's tortuous day of announcements and transitions at work got me thinking about my favorite X mas album,  A Charlie Brown Christmas from the Vince Guaraldi Trio

  The clinking piano of Vince Guaraldi and those soft snares in usison with the childrens' choir remind me that it 't'is the season' to be thankful despite difficulties.  This tune is for all the little peanuts in our lives

First Snow

The Rising Suns


Julia's basketball team, the 6th grade Suns, are now 8-0 and have taken first place in the first two tournaments they have competed in – Portage last weekend and Melrose Mindoro yesterday.  The fourth and final game yesterday was tough.  Melrose's point guard, the coach's daughter, at one point brought the ball up the court, gestured as though she was going to drive to the right, pulled back quickly to the top of the key, dribbled between her legs for the sake of misdirection, lost her defender,  pulled up for a 20-footer and nailed it.  She was single-handedly beating us in the first half, but then in the second, as rules permit, we were able to full court press and we started to repeatedly trap the nifty point guard at the sideline on offense, and as we took the ball out of her hands, the rest of the team began to break down.  We scored a bunch of unanswered points on steals and began to separate.  Julia played some mean defense on another point guard and got into the rebounding mix under that basket.  Congratulations Julia!  Next week, League Championship for a two-day tournament in Eau Claire.

A Brief Homage to Ale Asylum


There's beer, and then there is THE BEER.  After sampling three thousand and twelve micro brews (maybe one or two fewer) as a secret agent of Hops, I have finally come to the conclusion that Red Hook and Rogue, Anchor Steam, New Belgian and a hundred other competitors, all have to move aside on the crowded bartop for Hopalicious from Ale Asylum, a little non descript brewery near the airport in Madison.

Julia and I passed the Asylum on our way to Lake Mendota a couple of years ago to try out a SUP (stand up paddle board).  The building and location piqued my curiosity as I passed it and as chance had it later that day we found that THE BEER was on tap at Pasqual's, the southwest cafe we ate at located just down the road from our B &B off of Monroe street.

Sometimes you taste a new brew and think that this is it, this is the masterpiece, a smooth body of hops and citrusy fermentation unlike any other, but at second or third taste it just doesn't stand up, it falls flat, literally, or you find that it leaves a lingering aftertaste that is bitter or too sweet to want to return to.  Hopalicious is the perfect combination of full body and striking taste, a sort of simple complexity that tastes like it wants to be perfect every time.

Death by Chocolate


When putting Carly to bed last night, I asked her if she liked the cookies we made earlier in the afternoon, and what makes the perfect cookie.  She said "they were the perfect kind because they were smooth inside but like with a little crunch on the outside."  This is no kidding, verbatim.  I said, "yes, that is a trick to do them that way."  I hope she went off to cookie and milk dreams from there, but she was right – the trick is to try to find that perfect cookie which is both creamy on the inside but also holds a crunch on the outside.

I have found that a lot of the usual advice from professional bakers is essentially true: to get cookies right, you have to have close to exact measurements, especially on key ingredients, like the flour.  An under-floured cookie has very little chance of eventually holding its hoped for form, and will flatten then over crisp when baking.  The cookie loses its body.  Heat is also critical.  I like to let the oven pre heat for much longer than the oven preheat beep.  I once gauged the preheat temp and it had not climbed to the goal heat number as the oven had indicated.  If the cookie isn't getting its proper 350, then again it won't form the way you want.  The most important step, though, we have found, is to experiment with size of the dough ball or with substituted ingredients.  The cookies above called for a choice of chopped nuts in addition to the two boxes of semi sweet Baker's chocolate, brown sugar, two eggs, and Calumet.  I diced up a minimal handful of nuts and tossed them in because none of the kids seem to want them, but I wanted to add just a bit more texture than what I already had.  It seems that even the batter, before the oven cooking, turned out edible:

Now, in the process of making that perfect death by chocolate cookie, thankfully nobody died, but mouths did come in contact with some very dangerous products, as seen in the next pic.  We rushed to the sink for a scrub and soap, and fortunately everybody ended up OK:

You Can't Leave Portage


Armed on the way there with Mapquest directions and Julia at the passenger seat helm helping navigate, you'd think you could get to John Muir Elementary in Portage for the Suns b-ball tournament without any major hitches.  It's early morning; the sun is poking around at least a little bit.  But you miss Slifer road and only by some luck and intuition you recognize that there's no more town left to hold an elementary school, and you turn back and re-coordinate.  You see what you think is the coaches SUV, and happily follow...that is until the coaches SUV passes what looks to be the elementary school, then stop and turn around again, drive into the parking lot of the school, and see that the real coaches car is comfortably parked.  Hey, "we're here, and on time, no problem." So this is why you allow yourself half an hour extra travel time heading into any rural ball tournament.  Over the course of eight hours, Julia wins one, then two, three, and finally the fourth and final championship game against Portage itself, the host team – what I felt was a pinch of sweet revenge against the town's maze of barely navigable streets.

The girls truly played hard and well all the way to the last minute -- very impressive and fun to watch.  Julia started the third game and got some great experience on the court.  Nice work Julia.  All was well.  Tired, but team smiles.  Outside, though, December fog and rain.  It's dark.  We've got Mapquest paper in hand, and we did previously get here didn't we, so shouldn't be a problem.  But as we found out You Don't Leave Portage.  What should have been five easy pieces became twenty three dark turns through highway farmland and at least one stop at a BP that I can remember to get directions that turned out to be a bit more vague than Mapquest's.  Finally, hwy. 33 (south? north?) magically advertised 90/94 west, and as we turned on to the slippery and barely visible interstate, I could hear the words of Janet's voice from the night before... "you could just bring the Garmin."

Sous Chief


The assistant chef is, as this picture shows, highly critical to good cooking. After dicing the potatoes and celery and carrots, adding the peas and cream of chicken soup, a dash of salt and pepper, working the pie crust pastry, and baking to a perfect brown crust, it's time to admire the veggies of our labor.  This sous chief is heavily invested. Homemade pot pie is by far her favorite weeknight meal, and we know, at least this night, she might actually eat more than three bites before making the claim it's time for ice cream.

Edible Fraser Fir


I found on a brief search that many seasonal decor mags online offer all kinds of fun ways to place edible goodies on your Christmas tree, from stringing cute gumdrops to cranberry and nut combos or baking your favorite cookies, painting them up in reds and greens, then using a sipping straw to create a hole at the top of each for a hanging hook.  Great ideas.  Our tree is already personalized with ornaments that we've collected -- or kids created -- over the years,

but we have been toying with the possibility of coming up with a new theme for some time.   There is now a yearly minor ornament war battling out as to whether we stay old school or dive into the realm of a new but more generic style.  The voting card usually comes down as Julia staunch old school, Janet neutral, and myself, at least for one year, try something new.  So a compromise has been struck and I spent four hours stringing patterns on sewing thread of ten inches of popcorn and then one color wrappered Lindt cream candy around the entirety of the tree.  It turned out nice -- old and new merging -- finding a way to have our tree and eat it too.