A Tale of Two Pies

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It’s summer. So it’s hot. And it might not seem like the time to bake, getting your kitchen all steamy and what not. But with all the delicious fruit available at farmer’s markets and grocery stores, well, pies are really the answer to a mid-summer dilemma.

Pies have always had an old-fashioned connotation. A cook’s staple. There’s a reason they’ve been around so long. They’re fucking yummy. Add ice cream and viola… sweet warm fruit pares with frozen cream to make something fab, y’all.

One of my fondest memories is of my Aunt Jessie’s rhubarb pie. The tartness combined with fresh from the cow that morning cream adding just that right touch of sweetness t make the tart stand out. I’ve tried to recreate that pie. To no avail. They either come out too sweet or not sweet enough. So I moved on and discovered strawberries in my rhubarb go together just fine. Those pies never seem to come out too sweet or not sweet enough. They one out just right.

The tale of the second pie stems from how great the strawberry rhubarb version came out. I liked the tartness of one thing melding together with the sweetness of another. So I looked. And looked. High and low, I looked. Nothing seemed to catch my fancy. Until I stumbled onto a recipe for peach raspberry pie. Holy Smokes, Batman. That combo sounded fab-u-lous. Raspberry with their tart and tangy taste. And peaches. Oh my goodness. I used to live in Georgia. Back in the day. Way back, yo. If you’ve EVER lived in or near Georgia in the summer, peaches became your best friend. I love them. Off the vine, cut up, in Bellinis, in cobblers and in pies. So I made magic in the kitchen.

So ends my tale of two pies.

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

1¼ cups plus 2 tsp. sugar

By: Brandy

⅓ cup all-purpose flour
¼ tsp. ground nutmeg
¼ tsp. ground cinnamon
2 cups thinly sliced rhubarb
3 cups halved and hulled strawberries
2 tbsp. butter, cut into small pieces
2 tsp. milk

INSTRUCTIONS:
1. Preheat oven to 400°.  Mix together 1¼ cups of the sugar, flour, nutmeg, and cinnamon in a large mixing bowl, then add rhubarb and strawberries, tossing well to coat evenly.

2. Fill bottom crust with rhubarb–strawberry mixture and scatter butter on top. Cover with remaining pastry round (discarding wax paper) and crimp edges together to seal. Score top to allow steam to escape, brush with milk, and sprinkle with remaining 2 tsp. sugar. Place pie on a baking sheet and bake until crust is golden and filling is bubbling, about 50 minutes. If edge of crust browns too quickly, cover edge with a strip of aluminum foil to prevent burning. Allow pie to cool for 1 hour before serving.

 

Peach Raspberry Pie

⅔ cup sugar, plus more for sprinkling

By: Laura

⅓ cup flour
¼ cup packed light brown sugar
2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp. peach schnapps
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. ground ginger
½ tsp. kosher salt
¼ tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
6 large peaches (about 1 ¾ lb.), peeled and cut into ½″-thick slices
1 cup mashed fresh raspberries
4 tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 425°. In a large bowl, toss together sugar, flour, brown sugar, juice, schnapps, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger, salt, nutmeg, and peaches; set aside.

2. Roll one dough disk into a 12″ circle; fit into a 9″ pie plate. Pour half the filling into pie shell and cover with raspberries. Pour in remaining peach filling, and then dot filling with butter. Roll the remaining dough disk into a 12″ circle, place over filling, and trim dough, leaving a ½″ overhang. Lift edges and fold under to form a thick rim around the pie. Cut 4 slits in top of pie crust, brush with milk or melted butter, and sprinkle with more sugar. Bake until golden brown and filling is bubbling in the center, about 45 minutes. Let cool for about 20 minutes before serving.

Music Monday: Love Runs Out

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I’ve been digging on OneRepublic A LOT lately. They’ve just been coming out with some spectacular music. Love Runs Out has a bluesy sound that ROCKS. Seriously.

And although the song is about love and being there until the loves runs out–sounds like HEA, no?–and all the angst that comes with being in love with someone, I love it because the SOUND is awesome. That it is a song about the shit I write is all bonus.

Chicken Madeira

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Coming off Memorial Day weekend, the last thing–the VERY LAST THING–I need is more calorie laden food. Umm, not. But a small part of me was craving, y’all. I got to cravin’ Cheesecake Factory’s Chicken Madeira. So I set about to getting the recipe. And there are lots of them, both for Cheesecake Factory’s version as well as for the sauce itself. Here is my not so off-the-cuff rendition of this fav.

Chicken Madeira

Ingredients:

4-6 pieces of chicken, pounded thin (I use a mix of breasts and thighs)
3 pieces of garlic, minced
1-2 medium onions, diced
2-3 cups of mushrooms, sliced
2-3 tbsps butter
3 cups madeira wine
1 cup beef broth ( I use a cup of water and Knorr’s beef jelly thing-a-ma-bobs)
2-3 tbsp flour
mozzarella slices
1 tsp thyme
salt
pepper

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350. Heat skillet over medium-high heat. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Fry each piece in oil until golden brown on both sides. Place in oven casserole dish as they finish cooking.

2. Add more oil to the skillet. Add onions and cook for a few minutes. Add garlic and cook for another minute or two. Add mushrooms and cook for a few minutes.  Add flour and cook until it pastes. Add thyme and salt and pepper. Cook for a minute. Add wine and broth and cook until thick and reduced in half.

3. Place mozzarella slices on each piece of chicken. When sauce if thick and reduced in half, pour over chicken. Bake until cheese bubbles, or longer.

The Cheesecake Factory serves their chicken with asparagus and a heaping mound of mashed potatoes. I can attest that this is an excellent accompaniment choice for this dish. However, I like mine over an argula salad instead of asparagus, although I do really, really like the mashed potatoes to sop up the delicious madeira gravy. For those of you doing the low carb thing, roasted vegetables would be cool instead of the mashed potatoes as would roasted and riced cauliflower. For the Argula salad, I make a lemon/white wine vinaigrette right before I toss the greens and serve it under the chicken to help the argula wilt slightly.

Vinaigrette

1 tbsp dijon mustard
2-3 tbsp lemon juice
1-2 tbsp white wine vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil salt pepper parmesan cheese
– put mustard, juice and wine in a bowl. Whisk together. Keep whisking while adding olive oil. Add salt and pepper to taste being sure to under season for salt since the parmesan cheese is salty.  Stir in parmesan cheese. Toss in argula.

I fell in love with “rocket” as argula is called on the continent many moons ago. It is served quite often in many European countries. Plus, it just taste like summer. In any event, slice up some limes and pop open a Corona and eat the chicken. It is delish. Add in some rocket, and this flavor combo is out of this world. 😉

Manday Monday

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10001451_636086179777802_1278718481024318743_n Mondays are fast becoming one of my favorite days. 😉

There is something really sexy about a man in a suit. Seems to me that there is something even more sexy about a man in a suit as he is undressing.

That’s right… take it off. Take if all off. 🙂

#YesAllWomen

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This post will likely contain some triggery shit. You have been warned.

Not all men are dicks. All women have been threatened by those with dicks, however.

Not all men rape. All women live in the fear of being raped.

Not all men are domestically violent. All women are aware that statistically women will have violence done to them in their home.

All women. Everywhere. Live in the shadow of violence done to them by men. No, not all men. But even one can cut a swath through the female population. More than one? Shit, the numbers of women they will touch with violence exponentially increases. Every. Fucking. Woman.  Yes, all women.

My first touch that was inappropriate happened when I was 11 or 12. A much older man laid his body on top of mine while I slept. I woke up to being suffocated by a large male body. He was the husband of one of my mom’s friend. But that isn’t my first experience with having my body, me sexualized. That happened when I was about 8. I was told that his dick would go so far up into me that it would take up the space of most of my torso. And I’m writing this in a much nicer way than it was told to me. Seriously. The words he said shocked me. So much so that I’ve NEVER forgotten it.

An 8 year old girl should never be sexualized. I was. And I know I’m not alone.

Another occurrence that stuck in my mind occurred when I spent a summer in Paris. I was followed for several blocks by a man. I couldn’t go home because I didn’t want to lead him to where I was living. Me, alone in a foreign country, scared shitless. So I kept walking and SCREAMING at the top of my lungs hoping that my noise, my screams would protect me. Even then, I KNEW it wouldn’t be enough. So I stayed in crowded areas until about 45 minutes later, he stopped following me. He stopped. No one stopped him. No one came to my aid. No one.

Every time a women goes out with a man, she takes her life into her hands. Every. Single. Time.

Crazy doesn’t wear itself on the outside. Violent men don’t show their violent faces until they do. And it could be on the first date, the second anniversary, or a post-divorce party. Women don’t know they are going to be the target until they are. Sure, there are signs SOME men put out. We avoided those guys like the plague. It’s the ones that pass as normal. That pass as “normal.”

So, dudes, I get that you don’t want to be painted with a brush of violence that seems to be so pervasive amongst your gender. But when you defend YOURSELF with #notallmen, instead of acknowledging #yesallwomen, in essence you are doing some violence by dismissing, deflecting and defending men and marginalizing women.

So, shut the fuck up. And listen.

No, not all men. But one is too many. Because yes, ALL WOMEN.

Road Trips Rock, Gas Prices Suck

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Went on a road trip this past week. It’s been a LONG time since I got in a car and drove across the country, or even a small part thereof. I’d forgotten how cool it was to travel on the highways. Not the steering wheel grabbing part as I cuss out other drivers on the road, but the see the country and explore at a leisurely pace kinda of way.

It helped that I stopped in on family and friends. So without real solid dates, I endeavored to make a few stops and enjoy being the captain of my own ship, so to speak.

My road trip was preceded by a week of an awesome stay in New Orleans. Sheesh, I’d forgotten how much I  love that city. I haven’t been back since Katrina hit. And I was expecting more devastation than I saw. Which was good. But I suspect I just hadn’t driven into the parts that had been hardest hit. One of these days, I’ll go back and explore the more hidden parts, the less touristy ones.

I used to live in New Orleans. It was awesome. New Orleans is THE place to be if you’re a college student of any level. There’s lots to do and lots to see. Plus, the atmosphere of laissez le bon temps roulez was most excellent to help a person come into their own, albeit in a circuitous route that led down Bourbon Street on many a night. Still, I couldn’t have asked for a more relaxed community. Not to say there aren’t some under layers to the city. There are. Lots.

N’awlins was a mid-way point in my trek. A long resting spot that proved to be less than restful. Not that I’m complaining. I’m not. Just saying. 🙂 Instead of going west, I headed east from there. And not a little south. Florida was my next destination. I spent  four days there. I hadn’t really explored Florida, except right along the south beaches off I-10. Going down into the boot was vastly different. For one thing, the plants ROCK. It smelled so good. All those tropical and sub-tropical flora made the air redolent with sensuous scents. Hah, now I’m all waxing poetic and shit. Seriously, though, I hadn’t smelled air that sweet since I’d last visited Hawaii. Yum!

To say I really enjoyed the trip would be an understatement. I think I might plan a road trip every summer. I know. I know. That is totally not green. But whatever, dude. I did drive a hybrid car on this road trip and probably will plan to do so again. But no matter how imminent the shortage of petroleum might be, I am so willing to burn up a week or three in giving myself the happies. Ya know?

Smutty Sunday: The Will

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Just doing one book today I’ve been uber busy and haven’t gotten around to reading a lot. But when Kristen Ashley’s The Will came out, well… I bought it immediately and carved some time out, yeah?

I usually wait to do a review because I need time to process what I’ve read. So many times, my reviews come days, sometimes weeks, after I’ve finished a book.

I couldn’t do that for this book.

I had also highly anticipated this book, ummm, because getting some KA without New York City editing (yes, I AM saying that as if I were in a Pace commercial) is the FREAKING bomb, yo. I tried to read it slow. Before I opened the book, I was worried it wouldn’t be as good. Then once I cracked it open, I was worried it would be over too fast. None of my worries mattered. Once I started, I couldn’t go slow. I tried, y’all. I really, really did.

I couldn’t do that for this book.

I’m also burnt out on NA books and just young acting people in books lately. So I got super excited when I learned these main characters would be older. Not much is new about that. Many of KA’s protagonists are older than the “norm.” I sighed with relief when I read these characters behaving not just like adults, but adults who aren’t irrational, shrewish or complete dicks.

This is VINTAGE Kristen Ashley. All the reasons I LOVED Sweet Dreams and several others were present in this book. I can’t lie to you though, her storyline is tighter than before she mingled with NYC. Her plotting is better. Overall, hanging with the NYC crowd has given VINTAGE KA polish, but what it didn’t do was gut the story and emotions and all the drama and clipped speaking and chin tilting that I have come to know and LOVE about her books.

And don’t get me started on the kids. Dude, very few authors can make so many secondary characters not just come to life, but do in LIVING FUCKING COLOR. It’s a gift. And she has it in abundance. I can’t tell you how many times, I have come to “know” the secondary characters almost as well as the primary ones. And in this book, it just started with the kids. The rest of the cast was just as brilliantly fleshed out.

Did KA stop there? No, boys and girls, she did not. Not only was the story about Jake and Josie a compelling one, there are underlying messages in her books. Here, there are threads of unselfishly loving someone, the redemptive power of love, AND don’t sit around and wait for good shit to happen to you, sometimes a lot of time is wasted when you do. Babies aren’t made, people die, love goes unrequited. All of that. In this book.

So hell yeah. RUN don’t walk to your computer and download this puppy like yesterday.

Music Monday: Still Loving You

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Doing a little throwback for the listening selection for today. There are some GREAT tunes that came out of the 80s. The Scorpions had one of those songs. Alright, they had lots of those songs. But heavy metal bands doing ballads is one of the things I really miss about the 80s. So, in part for nostalgia and in part just because this song kicks ass… Still Loving You.

A Tribute To My Mother

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I usually reserve Sundays for book reviews. I don’t know why. I just do it. But today is Mother’s Day. And my Mother passed away 3 years ago on April 7, 2011. So today, instead of doing a post about a book, this post is a tribute to my mother. It won’t be nearly long enough. I won’t get out everything I want to say. But still, here it is.

My first memory is of my mother. I woke up- I must have been about 2 years old- hungry and went in search of the person who fed me. My mom. To say I love her wouldn’t cover the myriad of emotions I feel toward the one woman who not only shaped me, but shaped and informed the world around me. She was everything in my world.

My mom’s courageousness never hit me until I was an adult and realized how HARD the things she did were. Like coming to a new country, learning a new language, and permanently changing her citizenship to a country she hadn’t been born in. And she did all those things for me. Of course, my father factored heavily into these things as well. But knowing my moms, I know a huge part of WHY she did some of those things were because of me. That’s just who she was. She loved me as well.

The day she went to that Federal Courthouse to take her oath and pledge her loyalty to America was a pivotal moment for me. Although, I wouldn’t realize that until much later as well. The joy I experienced in that courtroom never left me. Never. It dictated what I would study in school and which career path I would take.

I was not a good daughter. At times, I was downright shitty. Some of the things I said to my mom HAUNT me. And I know that I’m not alone. Teenagers across the world have said things that were meant to devastate just like I did. But that doesn’t matter to me. Because I said them to a woman who deserved praise and not ridicule. Not the scorn I heaped upon her.

I was lucky to have the mom I had. I learned to be a good mom in return. I learned to be most of what I am today because of her. She should have been given a better daughter. I wish she had. Then she might have had  more than I gave her. Not that I couldn’t. I just chose not to. In my arrogance.

My mom passed away three years ago and I regret the time we lost to my own selfishness. She was a superb human being. She pissed people off because she was blunt and direct when maybe sometimes she didn’t need to be. Judgmental at times. I know her flaws as well. Still, in the balance, my scale of goodness from her tips way to my side when balanced against her scale of goodness.

My mom knew sacrifice. She went hungry many times as a child so her younger brother and sisters could eat. It was post war and Korea was decimated. She gave up so much always for those around her who she loved. She used to come over and cook and clean for me when my kids were little so I could rest. How do you even begin to repay, honor or in any other way give back what she gave? I don’t know. I just sit here in awe of my mom.

My mom passed away 4 months after I moved from close to her to far away. I miss her every single day. Every single day. I have a box with her jacket in it. I know it still smells like her. I haven’t opened the box because I don’t want that smell to go away. I want that smell with me at my time. To be wrapped up in her and have her be the last memory I have just like I had the first.

Manday Monday

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Yummalicious. Another Monday. Another hot man pic. What more could anyone ask for?!?!

There is just so much to like about this picture. So. Much.