Nov. 19th, 2012 10:37 pm
Making mincemeat
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muckefuckThe evening almost got off to a very unpromising start. My eyes sprang open at the sound of the door slamming shut. It took me a moment to realise it was the door to the shuttle. At that this could only be my stop. Next stop after that, Streeterville. I jumped up, got the driver's attention, and apologised for dozing as he stopped and opened the doors again.
The weather is surprising mild for this time of year. I knew I'd find![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu on the porch taking advantage of it. He had a simple dinner planned, just steak and green beans. The real cooking was slated for after. He hadn't even cleaned his plate before I sat down with a paring knife and one of the granny smiths. The first forelle pear was so ripe and juicy I insisted we eat it; we would have more than enough fruit for the filling without it.
The recipe was Irma with a hint of Martha. The opening line of the Joy of Cooking entry had me in stitches: "This is enough filling for about 20 pies." We were only making one, but it was easier to divide most of the measures by 16 and one or two by 18; if there's a little left over, we'll find a use for it. Martha Stewart's recipe calls for a base of green tomatoes, which we didn't have, but we liked her idea of using a coarsely chopped whole peeled lemon and orange instead of glacé fruits.
Trimmings from the steaks provided the suet, but we made a very special substitution for the meat: the bourbon-soaked figs gifted to us by Mr Cleveland months earlier. I called the shots and the GWO helped out where he could, mainly by manning the scale and measuring out doses of raisins, currants, nutmeats, and whatever else my handwritten list called for. Then he got to head to bed while I stuck around and stirred for the next two hours.
Not constantly, of course. At first there was enough liquid that I could linger on the porch with him and pay some attention to the cat, who had been making a nuisance of himself for three hours already and showed no sign of giving in. I measured out the amount of boughten gingersnaps I needed for the pumpkin pie and we split most of the rest between us over milk. But later I was checking on it every couple of minutes. I finally ended up calling my mother, since it was something I could one-handed while I scrape the saucepan.
Now the flavours will have two days to meld properly before it comes to doing the baking. As I looked for room in the fridge, I recalled that the Old Man would be bringing home a 20+ pound bird tomorrow and started madly pulling all the tupperware so I could dump their contents into the disposal. They're in the dishwasher now, leavingmonshu an only half-destroyed kitchen to make the piecrust in tomorrow night.
The weather is surprising mild for this time of year. I knew I'd find
monshu on the porch taking advantage of it. He had a simple dinner planned, just steak and green beans. The real cooking was slated for after. He hadn't even cleaned his plate before I sat down with a paring knife and one of the granny smiths. The first forelle pear was so ripe and juicy I insisted we eat it; we would have more than enough fruit for the filling without it.The recipe was Irma with a hint of Martha. The opening line of the Joy of Cooking entry had me in stitches: "This is enough filling for about 20 pies." We were only making one, but it was easier to divide most of the measures by 16 and one or two by 18; if there's a little left over, we'll find a use for it. Martha Stewart's recipe calls for a base of green tomatoes, which we didn't have, but we liked her idea of using a coarsely chopped whole peeled lemon and orange instead of glacé fruits.
Trimmings from the steaks provided the suet, but we made a very special substitution for the meat: the bourbon-soaked figs gifted to us by Mr Cleveland months earlier. I called the shots and the GWO helped out where he could, mainly by manning the scale and measuring out doses of raisins, currants, nutmeats, and whatever else my handwritten list called for. Then he got to head to bed while I stuck around and stirred for the next two hours.
Not constantly, of course. At first there was enough liquid that I could linger on the porch with him and pay some attention to the cat, who had been making a nuisance of himself for three hours already and showed no sign of giving in. I measured out the amount of boughten gingersnaps I needed for the pumpkin pie and we split most of the rest between us over milk. But later I was checking on it every couple of minutes. I finally ended up calling my mother, since it was something I could one-handed while I scrape the saucepan.
Now the flavours will have two days to meld properly before it comes to doing the baking. As I looked for room in the fridge, I recalled that the Old Man would be bringing home a 20+ pound bird tomorrow and started madly pulling all the tupperware so I could dump their contents into the disposal. They're in the dishwasher now, leaving
monshu an only half-destroyed kitchen to make the piecrust in tomorrow night.Tags: