Mind you, I’ve seen–and even made–bread made out of cassava, but not what is known on the market as “cassava bread.” This particular product is dry, flat, and cracker-like. It’s quite plain and is meant to be eaten as an accompaniment to meats and stews. I asked my Dominican friend at work about that because the package says that it’s imported from the Dominican Republic. (What’s funny is that the store where I bought it had it stacked on a shelf in the produce aisle. Um, sure. You know, plantains, potatoes, and cassava bread all go together, right?)

She warned me that it’s very plain, and she was right. The texture was dry and hard, and the flavor (if it can be called that) is that of saltless toast. But that makes sense. When eating a spicy stew or sauce-covered meat, this bread is probably just right as a counter balance. I tried mine with tomatoes and olive oil, like a bruschetta. It wasn’t bad. It probably does better when left to soak up stew juices, though.

Cassava, by the way, also goes by the names yuca, manioc, and tapioca. It’s a staple food for South America, the Caribbean, Southeast Asia, and Africa, and it can be used fresh (i.e., the root) or as a flour (sometimes called tapioca starch). It’s a creamy white root, very starchy, and pretty bland. But it cooks up like a potato and is extremely versatile. It’s not the prettiest root in town, but it’s filling and is a great vehicle for all kinds of flavors, And, yes, it’s the same tapioca they use to make tapioca pearls from. That’s what you need for pudding and bubble tea.

Have you ever eaten cassava bread? How did/do you eat it? I love to learn about how ethnic foods are eaten, so please share.

Well, another week has gone. And the summer’s almost gone, too. Can’t believe it. Enjoy it while it lasts, folks. Have a great week.

This week, I was on a lychee kick. An Asian market near where I work had bags of beautiful, colorful lychees and I simply had to have some. But other than eating them straight out of hand, I didn’t know what to do with them. They are yet another food item that I did not grow up with and only became familiar with at the end of some Chinese meals. So, I set out to find some good lychee recipes. But first, a little info…

What Are Lychees?

Lychees, also spelled litchis, are native to China. They’re a roundish tropical and subtropical fruit of the soapberry family. The outside rind is pinkish/reddish and is pliable but tough, and has a rough texture. This rind is inedible and must be peeled away. Underneath that rough skin, however, is a soft, juicy flesh that is unlike anything else. It’s sweet, with floral notes and an equally floral perfume, and creamy white with a slight translucence. Despite its softness, it’s also firm, which makes it ideal as both an eating fruit and a cooking fruit (where texture is desired). Beneath the flesh is a dark brown, hard pit, which can be germinated to grow a lychee tree. It’s particularly popular in China, parts of Southeast Asia, and India.

Okay, now that we know what it is, let’s cook with it!

Cooking with Lychees

I found a bunch of very interesting recipes, but my week was busy, so I focused on three: two beverages and a dessert.

The dessert was a Lychee Tapioca Pudding. It called for cooking tapioca pudding and adding the lychees to it. Now, I’m not that familiar with tapioca. Again, it’s not something common in Italian households. And the last time I had it was many moons ago. So, as tapioca puddings go, I’m not quite sure how it came out. It was very thick and sticky, which I don’t think it’s supposed to be. But the flavor was very fruity, although it could have used more sugar. This is it on the right.

The first beverage was Lychee-Coconut Frappe. This is made with coconut cream (not cream of coconut), lime, and, of course, lychees. These are pureed together in a blender, like a smoothie. It was mildly sweet with a decidedly tropical flavor. (It tasted like something I’ve had before, but I still haven’t been able to figure out what that is.) It was reminiscent of a piña colada, so I think adding some rum to it would be fabulous. I’m doing that tomorrow night.  Tonight it’s…

Lychee Margarita. That’s the second drink. Of the three recipes, I like this one the best. It’s like a margarita, but with a delicate fruity edge to it. Yum.

Lychees are a great source of vitamin C and other nutrients. According to Nutritiondata.self.com, 1 cup of raw lychees has 226% of the recommended daily allowance of vitamin C, or 135.8 mg (according to the USDA), as well as some calcium, phosphorus, copper, potassium, and B2 (riboflavin). They’re also high in something called polyphenol, which is an antiinflammatory and antioxidant. In China, they’ve been used to treat stomach ailments and as a source of nutrition to newborns; in fact, the Chinese have even used peeled lychees as pacifiers.

Aside from the fresh fruit, lychees are available canned. Like anything else that’s canned, the flavor is inferior to fresh lychees. But since the season for fresh lychees is summer (May, June, July, August), you may want to avail yourself of the canned stuff in other seasons. You can also find lychee juice, syrup, and puree on the market.

I’m going to get more lychees this week while they’re still around and try out some more recipes. Below is the recipe for Lychee Margaritas, from LycheesOnline.com. If you have a great lychee recipe, feel free to share it here. See you next week, everybody.

Peace

Lychee Margarita

1 cup lychee juice
1 cup lime juice (about 8 limes)
1 1/3 cup lemon juice (about 1 lemon)
½ cup water
2 tablespoons grated lime zest
1 tablespoon grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon grated orange zest
¼ cup sugar
3 tablespoons of salt
1 ½ cups tequila
1 ½ cups Triple Sec

Combine the juices, water, zests and sugar.
Bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
Simmer on low heat, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes.
Rub the rims of your glasses with the leftover lime rind or lychees, then dip the rims in salt.
Fill the glasses halfway with ice.
Strain the juice thru a fine sieve into a pitcher or cocktail shaker.
Add the tequila, Triple Sec and crushed ice.
Stir or shake 30 seconds and strain into the glasses.

I’m kind of mad at myself because I used to have purslane growing wild in my pots. The dirt in my pots came from a large garden I had in my backyard (which I subsequently paved over for a patio). But I wanted to grow vegetables and herbs so I transferred the dirt from the ground to the pots. All kinds of things came out of that dirt: garlic, mint, and purslane.

Well, growing up in an Italian family, I didn’t know from purslane. With all the food research and writing I’ve done, I’d heard of it but I’d never actually seen it. After all, it’s not a common market item. Not here in the U.S., anyway. At least, not in New York, where I live. I thought they were weeds.

So, I pulled them. Yep, every year, I pulled them out and tossed them. Only last year did I find out that those weeds were actually purslane. Now it no longer grows in my pots. And they’re selling it at the farmer’s market for $2 a pound.

I’m very annoyed by this.

So, What Exactly Is Purslane?

There’s some discrepancy about purslane’s origins, but the consensus seems to be that it’s native to the Asian/Middle Eastern part of the world. Purslane has a thick, reddish stem with roundish leaves. It’s been likened to both spinach and watercress. Its leaves are used as herbs, particularly in France, and for salads, soups, and stir-fries throughout Europe, Asia, and in Latin American countries, where it’s known as verdolaga. But according to Wikipedia (and, therefore, it’s fact), in the U.S., it is considered a weed, hence its absence from most markets. (And it proves that I’m not a total dumbass.)

Purslane contains Omega-3 fatty acids, which most land-based plants don’t have, vitamins A, C, some B, magnesium, calcium, potassium, and iron, as well as antioxidants. Supposedly, the leaves can be used to relieve sores and insect and snake bites.

And it would appear that purslane/verdolaga is available jarred. Who knew? I certainly didn’t.

Now I’ll have to see if I can prod a purslane root or two back to life in my vegetable pots. It would irritate me if I had to start paying for it.

If you have purslane available (hopefully, growing like weeds in your garden), here are a couple of recipes to try. Let me know how you like them. Have a great week, everyone.

Both of these recipes are from Tuscon Community Supported Agriculture

Honey Dijon Purslane and Red Potato Salad

By Heidi DeCosmo
Makes 8 (1/2 cup) servings

1 pound Red La Soda potatoes cut into medium cubes
Olive Oil, sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup chopped Purslane
1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
1/4 cup chopped red bell pepper

Dressing
1/4 cup grain Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon seasoned rice wine vinegar

Place the potatoes in a large pot of water and bring to boil. Cook about 15 minutes or until the potatoes have softened. Drain.

In a large mixing bowl combine the potatoes, purslane, onion and peppers. In a small bowl combine the mustard, honey and vinegar. Add the dressing to the salad and mix well.

Verdolaga (Purslane) and Walnut Pilaf

Lorraine Glazar, Tucson CSA

1 small to medium onion, chopped
2 teaspoons oil
1 cup rice
2 cups water, stock or broth
1 share verdolagas, washed and chopped
1/2 cup toasted walnuts
Salt and pepper to taste

Sauté the chopped onion in the oil until golden. Toss the rice in the pan until it is coated with oil. Add the liquid of choice and bring to a boil. Cover the pan and cook until all liquid is absorbed, 20 minutes to an hour (brown rice will take longer and may require a little more liquid). When rice is tender, toss in verdolagas and walnuts, season to taste, and serve it forth!

Adapted from a recipe in Sunset Magazine, June 2008 issue.

I’m very pleased to introduce my second guest blogger this week. Her name is Mary Griggs and she has an awesome food blog―very cleverly called Mouth Brothels―where she talks about all things food-related (a woman after my own heart) and offers fabulous restaurant reviews. She’s done me the honor of writing something up, so let’s get to it. Here’s Mary with her blog (and recipes) on grits.

Grits

I want to thank Roberta for this opportunity to guest blog for her. My topic is a quintessential American food―grits.  Made from hominy (the dry kernel of corn after the hull and germ have been removed), they were actually one of the first foods given by the Native Americans to the European colonists.

The difference between grits and polenta comes from the type of cornstarch

Photo by Ernesto Andrade

in the kernel. Grits are made from dent corn, while polenta comes from flint corn. This New World crop arrived in Italy during the 16^th century. Because corn was plentiful and cheap, treasure hunters used flint corn meal in the hold of their ships to hide gold from pirates on the high seas. It is believed that, during a famine, people in Spain, Portugal and Italy began using the packing material for food. What began as desperation rations later became part of the cuisine.

Grits aren’t just for breakfast, although nothing beats some creamy grits to start the day. No, this dish is a good accompaniment to the main course, whether it is animal, vegetable or seafood.

Here is a basic recipe for grits and one of the best ways to enjoy grits at dinner. For the best flavor, always use old-fashioned and NOT quick-cooking grits.

Creamy Grits

3 cups milk
3 cups heavy cream or half & half or water
1 cup old-fashioned grits
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the milk and cream in a 3-quart saucepan. Turn heat to medium-high and slowly whisk in the grits. Continue stirring while the liquid comes to a boil. When the grits begin to bubble, turn the heat down to medium-low and simmer, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon. Allow to cook for 10 to 15 minutes, until the mixture is smooth and thick. Remove from heat and stir in the butter. Season with salt and pepper.

Mushroom Grillades (pronounced gree-odds)

2 tablespoons plus 1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 lb Portobello mushrooms, sliced and stems removed
1/2 lb shiitake mushrooms, sliced and stems removed
1/2 lb button mushrooms, sliced and stems removed
1 T Creole Seasoning
Salt and pepper
1/2 cup flour
1 large onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 bunch green onions, chopped with white and green parts divided
3 large cloves garlic, minced
1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes
2 cups mushroom stock or water
1/2 cup red wine
Salt, freshly ground pepper and Creole seasoning to taste
2 bay leaves
1/2 teaspoon thyme
Few dashes Tabasco
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leafed parsley

Mushroom stock:

Place mushroom stems in a pot with 4 cups water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 25 to 30 minutes. Remove stems and reduce liquid by half. You should have about 2 cups of mushroom stock.

Heat 2 tablespoons oil in a large, heavy Dutch oven—cast iron is best. Rinse mushrooms and sprinkle with Creole seasoning. Saute mushrooms with salt and pepper until liquid has been released. Remove from pot. Add 1/2 cup of oil to pot and stir in flour to make a roux. Stir constantly over medium heat until roux is dark brown but not burned―takes at least 20 minutes. Immediately add onion, bell pepper, celery and white part of green onions. Reduce heat and cook for a few minutes, stirring. Add garlic, cook for another minute. Add mushrooms and then stir in tomatoes, stock and wine. Add remainder of ingredients except green onion tops and parsley and stir well. Simmer, covered, about 1 and 1/2 to 2 hours, stirring occasionally. When finished, add 1/4 cup green onion tops and parsley. Serve over grits.

I hope you enjoy these recipes and start to make grits a regular player at the table.

Bon Temps et Bon Appetit!

Check out my restaurant and food blog at:  Mouth Brothels

My website is: www.marygriggs.com

Anyway, if you’ve visited my blog before, you know that I like to pick up random things sometimes and just give them a go. Well, this time it was soda. Specifically, Goya coconut soda. To some of you, it may sound strange. To others, it may sound yummy. It’s kind of both.

This coconut soda is part of Goya’s line of tropical soft drinks, and like other Goya sodas,  it comes in a long-neck bottle and has a rather tropical (of course) logo. It gives you (okay, me) the illusion that you’re drinking a beer. It’s clear in color and lightly carbonated.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, but how does it taste? Like carbonated, sweetened coconut water. And like coconut water, the coconut flavor is very light, rather than overpoweringly “coconutty.” For people who like natural coconut flavor, I think you’ll like this. For those who like a strong coconut flavor, it may seem weak. The nice thing about it is that it’s not overly sweet, either.

Don’t misunderstand me. When I say “natural coconut flavor,” that doesn’t mean that it’s a natural soda. Nope. It still has high-fructose corn syrup and artificial flavors. I’m not a big soda drinker and it wouldn’t be the first thing I’d reach for, given a choice of beverages (I’d much rather drink alcohol). But I do enjoy a glass of cola with lime once in a while, and the occasional experiment with something “exotic.” To people in the Latino community, coconut soda is hardly exotic, but coming from a culture (Italian) that doesn’t use coconuts that often in its cuisine, I consider it unusual and different. Next on my Goya list is guaraná and cola champagne.

So, that’s it for this week, my friends. I hope everyone has a great (and comfortable) weekend. Ciao for now.

Knowing that a hibachi was going to be my sole cooking implement, I had to choose two recipes from my cookbook (after all, it was my book I was pimping at this thing) that I could easily make on a grill. So, I chose “Eggplant and Garden Vegetable Canapes” and “Exquisite Potatoes and Peppers.”  All I had to do was grill some eggplant, red onions, and peppers. Simple enough, right?

Except that it was 1,000 degrees! My vegetables charred beautifully, and I got nice and crispy. It was around 95 that day and it was really hard standing there for over two hours cooking and preparing food samples under a blazing sun. I also had the interesting problem of being on a slant. Yeah, um, having your peppers roll off your hibachi and your sample platter slide down the table toward the street is not really helpful. We had to lift the front end of the table with books.

So, I grilled eggplant and red onion slices, while I chopped up tomatoes, cucumbers, parsley, and basil. (My actual recipe calls for baking and pureeing the eggplant, but grilling it gave the canapes an even better flavor. Good to know!) When the eggplant and onions were done, I chopped  those up and mixed everything together with a little extra virgin olive oil, salt, and pepper. I put spoonfuls of that on pieces of melba toast…and they went faster than I could put them out! Eventually, I ran out of melba toast (I totally underestimated how much I would need) and my friend Judy came to my rescue when she ran to a nearby deli to buy crackers. When she got back, she informed me that all they had were saltines and one box of Triscuits. She went with the Triscuits. Good call, Judy. Except that I went from nice-sized toast to teeny tiny Triscuits. It was interesting trying to get the vegetable mixture onto those.

Next up was my potatoes and peppers. I grilled red and green bell peppers on the hibachi and when they got nice and black, I peeled and seeded them. I had boiled and diced the potatoes at home because I would have no way of doing that at a street fair without a more sophisticated set-up. Anyway, I chopped up the peppers and tossed them in a bowl with the potatoes, some paprika, salt, pepper, olive oil, and garlic that I had sauteed in a little pan I had brought along. I put that in little cups with forks and, once again, the samples flew.

By that time, I, too, was cooked. So, I packed up my gear, hugged my hosts, and hightailed it back over the Verazzano. I spent the rest of the day in air conditioning, drinking Mike’s Hard Limeade.

But when it was done, I was happy to know that people enjoyed what I had made. There was one kid, maybe about 10 years old, who told me that he was “born a vegan” but that his “main lifestyle was vegetarian.” Cut kid. Ate lots of my samples. Lots. I also sold and signed a few books, which was cool. It was a great experience and I plan on doing it again when the weather is more amenable to cooking outside.

Anyway, it’s going to be a scorcher here this weekend–the pool and some Mike’s have my name on them. I hope everyone has a safe and cool weekend.

Ciao.

Tomorrow (Saturday) is my cooking demo on Van Duzer St. on Staten Island for the month-long street fair called Van Duzer Days. I’m going to be whipping up a couple of dishes from my cookbook and serving up samples.

And why does this affect what I’m doing on Friday night? Because when one does a cooking demo (or any kind of cooking anywhere outside of one’s home), there is a lot of preparation to be done. I have to get everything I need ready for tomorrow: Knives, cutting board, apron and towels, utensils, bowls, paper towels, bags, hand sanitizer, etc. And because it’s also a book signing: Books, bookmarks, postcards, etc. And because it’s going to be 1,000 degrees: Chapstick, sunblock, water, etc. Then, tomorrow I have to get all my ingredients together.

People, this is what being a personal chef is all about—bringing everything in creation that you need to cook multiple meals for multiple people. And this is nothing. I’m only cooking two (very simple) dishes on a hibachi. This doesn’t include all the pots, pans, cleaning products, labeling products, and other things that you’ll need during a cooking session. It ain’t easy. It’s a tough business to be in, no matter how much you love to cook.

Anyway, thanks for checking in. Wish me luck and I’ll see you next week. Stay cool—preferrably in a pool or at the beach!

Now, here’s the main show: Mamey.

I’ve never had a mamey. There are two reasons for this:

1)      They’re very hard to find. You definitely won’t find them outside of a Latin/Hispanic (or, occasionally, Asian) market, but even then, there’s no guarantee you’ll find them. The markets in my neighborhood cater to a Latin community and they still don’t carry them.

2)      They’re expensive.

The mamey (pronounced mah-mee, like “mommy”) for me has been one of those elusive things that I always knew I’d pounce on if I was every lucky enough to spot it. (And mangosteens. But that’s another discussion.) My interest was especially piqued when I saw celebrity chef Daisy Martinez use them on her TV show, Daisy Cooks.

While frozen mamey pulp has been available, fresh mamey has been notoriously difficult to find. I haven’t been able to find out why. (Although I read somewhere that U.S. government tight-asses screamed like little girls when they found out that the mamey pit is considered to be some sort of narcotic or toxin or something. Pansies.) But, happily, the era of mamey embargo seems to be coming to an end.

Eureka!

I just started a job in April. I have a really long-ass commute and I hate it, particularly since I commuted from Brooklyn to Jersey City for almost 15 years (bear with me, there’s a point to this). I’m really over long-haul commutes. But one good thing about where I now work is that it’s smack in the middle of a thriving Latin community, comprising numerous Central and South American cultures, and markets abound to cater to them. For a foodie like me, it’s paradise having access to multicultural ingredients like that.

When I first started this job, I went exploring in the neighborhood and fell in love with one particular market, which had not only ingredients essential to Latin cuisine but excellent prices as well. It was there that I spotted the elusive mamey sapote, and my eyes bugged out. Unfortunately, I was pretty broke at the time and simply couldn’t afford the hefty price of $5.99 a pound. And because mameys are heavy fruits, and these were pretty big specimens, I knew I’d be looking a nice amount of money. I continued seeing them there, but they started to look not-so-fresh. With each passing week, they looked worse and worse. Then, yesterday, I went to get myself a mango and some bananas and, lo! A fresh batch of mameys! Some small ones, too. And I had money in my pocket. (Still, at $5.99/lb., and with my other purchases, I blew my whole wad!)

But What Is a Mamey?

Mamey, also called sapote or pouteria, comes from the mamey sapote tree. Its skin is brown and somewhat rough and slightly bumpy, but its flesh is orange, creamy, and sweet. It’s reminiscent of papaya in both color and flavor. The flavor, however, has a potato-y edge, and, in fact, it has been likened to sweet potato, which I concur. The texture is smooth, but with a subtle graininess to it, lending to it potato-iness (I just made that up). Some people have said that it reminds them of sweet potatoe pie and pumpkin pie. Someone even said it reminds them of vanilla ice cream with a little pumpkin added. I don’t know about that last one, but can see the pumpkin analogy.

Photo by Fibonacci

Mamey is eaten raw, but is also very popular in smoothies and shakes, as well as ice cream and in baked goods. If you’re lucky enough to spot them, look for fruit that is smooth and unblemished. By that, I mean there shouldn’t be any soft/mushy dents, mold or discolored parts. And it should not be confused with a mammee apple, which is similar looking but is not the same thing. However, I don’t think you’ll have this problem―as hard as it is to find mameys, it’s probably twice as hard to find mammee apples (picture here).

A ripe mamey yields a bit when you press into it. I think mine was half ripe. Half of it was soft, while the other half was as hard as rock. It has an interesting pit in the center―oblong and smooth, and its shape rather reminded me of a closed mussel shell. It’s actually quite pretty. But it’s useful, too. The seeds have been used to make insecticide and treatments for parasitic skin diseases.

I Like My Fruit to Do Double Time

Okay, that’s cool. Because mameys, like so many other fruits, do other things for you besides make you go, mmmm. It’s high in vitamins A and C and potassium, and is an excellent source of dietary fiber and calcium. It’s been used for stomach ailments, headaches, venereal disease, and as an antiseptic.

So, here’s the good news: Because so many Latin Americans use mamey in their cuisine, the demand for it is heralding a wide-spread introduction to mameys, and it’s very possible that mameys might be coming to a store near YOU!

And because I like to be optimistic about these things, I’m giving you a few mamey recipes to try out. I made a batido (milkshake) with mine. I used soymilk and it came out yummy. I topped it off with a tropical drink umbrella to make it more festive. (Okay, so I keep little drink umbrellas around. So?)

Keep in mind that you can use frozen mamey pulp for these recipes instead of fresh, so look for it in Latin markets and well-stocked supermarkets. Let me know what you think. Until then, happy summer, happy Van Duzer Days, and ENJOY!

Frozen Mamey Sapote Mousse

1 cup mamey pulp
¾ cup sugar
1 envelope gelatin
½ cup cold water
½ cup boiling water
2 cups heavy cream
½ tsp salt

Rub fruit through a sieve or put through a food mill to remove any fiber. Mix sugar and salt with fruit pulp. Soak gelatin in cold water, then dissolve in the boiling water. Blend with fruit mixture. Chill until mixture thickens, then whip until light. Whip the heavy cream until stiff and fold into mamey mixture. Freeze.

Recipe courtesy of Virtual Herbarium

Mamey Muffins

Yield: 24 mini muffins

2 Florida eggs
1 1/4 cups Florida sugar
2 cups mamey, peeled, seeded and pureed
1 1/2 cup Florida milk
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/4 cup Florida pecans, chopped
1/4 cup butter, softened
1/4 cup brown sugar

Beat together eggs and sugar. Add mamey and milk. Mix together flour, soda and spices and add to mamey mixture.

In a separate bowl, mix together pecans, butter and sugar. Drop mamey batter into greased mini muffin tins and top each with a teaspoon of pecan mixture.

Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 20 minutes or until done.

Recipe courtesy of the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services

Batido de Mamey

Cuban Milk Shakes

1 cup whole milk
3 tablespoons sweetened condensed milk
3 tablespoons sugar (to taste)
1 cup fresh ripe mamey cubed (You may subsitute frozen mamey pulp, available in many Latin markets.)
1/2 cup crushed ice

Put everything in the blender except the ice and process until frothy. Add the crushed ice and process until the ice is ground fine and the batido is thick and rich. NOTE: The condensed milk is a very Cuban addition. You may omit this ingredient to your taste.

Recipe courtesy of Three Guys from Cuba

This past week, Melynda told me that she was going to be cooking for an impromptu wedding for her friend and that she would be making mehndi (henna tattoo) cupcakes instead of a wedding cake. I just about fell off my chair when I read that. And I thought, “Yes! That is what I want you to write about.” So, without further ado, here is my fabulous guest, Melynda Huskey, and her cupcakes.

Mehndi and Marigold Wedding Cupcakes

My life as a cook, which started in first grade with white sauce (and why?  I blame my maternal great-grandmother, a turn-of-the-century scientific homemaker whose brooding influence on our dusting, laundry-folding, and canning has not been one whit diminished by more than 40 years of death), has been always been punctuated by unpredictably intense states of obsession with achieving some perfect culinary object.  For five years I was a burden to my friends as I sought the perfect sugar cookie.   Before that, it was the perfect French Breakfast Roll (a sugar-and-cinnamon dipped muffin sacred to my childhood).  Sandwich bread.  Pie crust.  Jalapeno Creamed Spinach. One by one, I’ve nailed them, after arduous labor.

Except vanilla cupcakes.

I’m well known, in a small-town way, for my cupcakes. Everyone who has eaten my cooking has had a cupcake, and mostly, they’ve loved them.  Which would be great, of course, except that, honestly?  Not an achievement.  It’s just the soft tyranny of low expectations, to coin a phrase. Like a curly-headed child actor, all a cupcake has to do is show up in a cute outfit and wave.

But that’s not enough for me.  I want CUPCAKE.  Like this:  Perfectly mounded tops, with a sugary-crisp crust that yields to the teeth with just a hint of modest reluctance.  A moist, tender, clinging crumb, and a spongy, springy texture.  Yellow like a buttercup, a primrose, a bowl of thickly-clotted cream.  And with a fragrance of vanilla, butter, and first love.

The essence of cupcake.  It has eluded me for years. It has become my Holy Grail.

Three weeks ago, I found out that two dear friends had decided to get married, more or less on the spur of the moment—except they were going to have to do it at least twice, to accommodate everybody else’s physical, legal, and familial geography, and neither performance was going to suit them much.

“Come to our house,” I said. “We’ll have a nice picnic, Joan’s got her internet ministerial credentials, and . . .”

“You’ll make cupcakes??” asked the bride with a gleam in her eye, who once told a roomful of people that if I made cupcakes out of dirt, she’d be first in line to get one.

What else? Three weeks to the perfect cupcakes.  The happy couple had no wishes, although when I pressed her, the bride thought it would be fine if the cakes matched her outfit—turquoise and chocolate brown.

That was not enough for me.  These cupcakes needed to be perfect.  I wanted them to reflect the incredibly quirky, fraught, hilarious, geeky, adorable bride and groom, and their sweet, self-conscious devotion.  Somehow I wanted the cupcakes to contain every cool, weird, unpredictable thing that I love about these two.

Inspired by the bride’s gorgeous Indian silk stole, I settled on marigolds, the traditional Indian wedding flower, and turquoise-frosted cakes piped with bridal henna designs in chocolate frosting.  And the cake, snagged at the last moment from the King Arthur Flour website, uses a technique as off-center as my friends and as sweet.  Not perfect, but real—just like them.

Adorably Odd Vanilla Cupcakes (freely adapted from King Arthur Flour’s Golden Vanilla Cake)

Two hours or so before you want to make your cake, take out all the ingredients and line them up on the counter to reach room temperature.  When you start mixing the cake, preheat the oven to 350 F.

2 cups sugar
3 ¼ cups all-purpose unbleached flour
2 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
¾ cup (1 ½ sticks) butter
1 ¼ cups milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon high-quality bourbon
4 large eggs

Sift the dry ingredients into the mixer bowl.  On low speed, beat in the very soft butter.  It’ll look and feel like you could make a great sand castle with it. Pour in the milk, vanilla, and bourbon and mix at medium speed for one minute.

Add the eggs one at a time, beating thoroughly between each addition.

Fill your paper-lined cupcake tins about 2/3 full.  You should easily get 24 cupcakes.  I got 2 dozen plus an 8” square pan that the kids ate at snack time. Bake them about 20 minutes, but watch them carefully in the last few minutes.  Nothing is sadder than a dry, overbaked cuppie.

Frost however you like.

I’m really excited because I’m going to have my first guest blogger, Melynda Huskey,  soon. I think you’re really going to enjoy it because Melynda is an extremely talented person, who comes up with the most fabulous recipes. You can check out her many projects (not limited to cooking) at her website, The Things That Make Us Happy Make Us Wise.

So, stay tuned for that, coming up shortly.

In the meantime, stay cool, everyone!