First Stop, California

I'm finally getting a breather--a fairly long one--from work and am leaving today for California, to join me hubby. No idea what I'm going to do there, except swim in the hotel pool (it's the outdoor kind, and heated--hooray) and eat a lot of bahn mi and pho in San Jose, which a Vietnamese friend assures me is a really good place for both. Okay, I will reveal a bit of my geekness to admit I've researched where the nearest libraries are and fully intend to luxuriate in all that free English text. That's right people, for two weeks, I will once again be a literate creature, with the capability of reading hand-written menus, the backs of cereal boxes, and Trespassers Will Be Executed signs. It's heady.

Another thing I'm hungrily anticipating is all that unlimited hotel room heating--indoor warmth, I love you.

Persuaded by the dual threat of expiring frequent flyer miles (a family member's, kindly donated to me) and a grandmother who may not see another year--though at the risk of sounding callous, we've been hearing that one for years, interspersed with, "She's going to outlive all of us," which I think is a far more accurate assessment--after California, I'll be flying back to Singapore for another couple of weeks. What a jetsetter I am turning into. Unfortunately, I'm doing this back to back, which means I have to pack two bags: one with my summer vacation clothes and one with winter woollies, as I just checked the weather and it seems sunny old California is colder than Tokyo. And it's going through a... rainy season? Ah well, hopefully I'll find some really good Mexican food to make up for the weather.

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Japanese Pumpkins and Homemade Applesauce

I foolishly clung to the hope that an overnight rest would magically loosen up my pumpkin pie, but the next day, the filling was dense and dry as ever. I spoke with Lynn, who confirmed my suspicion that Japanese pumpkins are a lot drier than the American(?) varieties. If I ever again try making pie with fresh Japanese pumpkin, I think I'd have to halve the amount--but I wonder if this would mess up the proportion of the other ingredients. Perhaps I should just stick to the canned stuff.

On a happier note, I made a fruitcake today with the dried fruit that I put in a bottle of brandy over a year ago. This was a bit scary, since I don't really know how long fruit can safely sit preserved in alcohol. Thankfully, the cake tasted very good and I'm not dead yet from food poisoning. Though that's not the happy note. The recipe required applesauce, but I didn't have time to make a trip to an imported food store. I decided to try making my own, and this turned out to be laughably easy to do. Even more surprising was how good the fresh applesauce tasted, thanks to good apples (I'd forgotten it's apple season--what perfect timing) and a splash of the vanilla essence I made a while back, which has tons of little vanilla seeds happily drifting about in Polish vodka and which has mellowed a lot since the last time I tried it.

I used a yellow Japanese variety of apple. I don't know what the name is in English, but they're tarter and larger than Golden Delicious, and two apples yielded about 1 1/2 cups of chunky applesauce. I didn't use any sugar or lemon juice or any other stuff usually called for. I simply skinned the apples and chopped one up into little bits. The other, I finely grated with my Japanese grater (which happens to be incomparable for grating ginger)--this made all the juice come out and so I didn't need to add any liquid, aside from a splash (about 1 tablespoon, I guess) of my vanilla essence, when I brought the apples to a boil in a small, heavy pot. Then I simmered the apples, covered, on low heat for about 15 minutes. That's it! There was such a bright flavor, and the sauce was the perfect sweetness.

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Pie Vision

I don't like to throw around words like "I have psychic abilities," but the whole time I was putting together my pumpkin pie tonight for tomorrow's potluck, over and over, I kept seeing my eggs... Well, let's not jump ahead of the story. Not that there's much of a story. But suffice it to say, I love pumpkin pie, it's been a year since I last had some, and I badly wanted mine to come out well, which for me means a light and custardy texture--so, naturally, I did a search for a Cook's Illustrated version, and then I followed it, word for stinking word.

For once, I had my mise en place going on, and as my crust was blind-baking in the oven, I was even gently warming up the eggs a little in a water bath, because the recipe calls for the hot pumpkin mixture to be mixed with the eggs, and I didn't want my eggs to scramble from the shock of the heat--the point is to get the filling firming up before it's poured into the shell, to ensure a crisp crust. Timing is rather crucial in this recipe because you want to quickly mix up the warm filling, pull the baking crust out of the oven, pour in the filling, and quickly put the pie back in the oven.

In keeping with the Cook's Illustrated mood, I was being downright militant about the prep work, and weighed everything possible, even the eggs--the recipe calls for 4 large eggs (224g), but I only had mediums. Unfortunately, all the while I was moving about the kitchen, in my mind, I kept seeing my carefully weighed bowl of eggs go flying through the air. But, I pushed the dread aside and soldiered on. What could I do?

So... my crust was about ready to come out, my pumpkin mixture was gently bubbling on the stove, and my eggs were warmed and ready. And then, of course, my 224g of eggs went flying, straight into me (I didn't envision that part). I allowed myself a few seconds to stare miserably at the big warm orange puddle at my feet, which Edward was hovering over with the stiff and ready stance of a guard dog watching an intruder approach. Thank god Edward is such a good boy. I'm sure I wouldn't have been able to stop any other dog from pouncing, and then I'd have to put my pie on further hold while I cleared up the muck, because, really, how much egg should one little dog consume?

After a brief, frozen moment, I broke into action. Unfortunately, there was no time to re-weigh 224g of egg, so I just grabbed four from the fridge, pulled my crust out of the oven, and did my best to combine hot pumpkin with cold eggs, very slooowly and with lots of crazy whisking, all the while dodging around the egg puddle and trying not to trip over Edward, who was tentatively helping to clean up some of the egg soaking through my jeans and socks.

I finally got the pie in the oven, cleaned myself up, cleaned up the mess, cleaned up Edward (who somehow managed to get a little eggy), checked on my pie five minutes before it was supposed to come out, and discovered with a sinking heart that the filling was weirdly ballooned and overcooked--the recipe says that the center is supposed to be quivery, like gelatin. I admit it: I looked at my pie and wailed. The surface looks and feels exactly like a soft, smooth...

...firm leather car seat. I couldn't wait the prescribed one hour--I cut out a little square and much to my disappointment, the filling is dry and a bit grainy, sort of like mashed potatoes, nowhere near a custardy quiver. I don't know what happened. I guess I should have checked on it earlier. Perhaps it was because I didn't use enough egg. Also, I used frozen pumpkin (which is very common in Japan, and surprisingly good), and there was very little water in this variety--this might have contributed to the filling cooking more quickly.

The pie wasn't that difficult to make (if one overlooks the egg mishap), so I guess I shouldn't be making such a fuss. I can do this again, damn it. I mean, I'm not North American, why do I have to wait until whenever Thanksgiving is to have pumpkin pie?(Okay, admittedly, the anticipation of a once-a-year treat kind of hypes up the enjoyment, for me.)

But then, I should have known from my vision with the flying eggs that this pie was doomed. I was just watching X-Files yesterday and there was this guy who could forsee a person's death but felt he was helpless to actually prevent the death from occurring--I know just how he feels. Sigh.

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Feeling Fall

I'm finally feeling better, and the weather has been so sweet these past few days.

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I'm afraid I've been blindsinded by a stupid cold. Will finish up my work and then possibly burrow under the covers for three days straight... except when I must emerge to stagger deliriouslyy after Edward on our daily walk of course. Later.

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Left Behind

This appears to be a shot of Edward going, "See, I hardly take up any room, so you have no reason to leave me behind," but it's actually yet another photo where he's wondering if he can move yet. Sad to say, I don't think Edward really cares if we go away and leave him with my in-laws--he *loves* his granny and gramps. He's not going anywhere however because, this time, I too have been left behind.

My dear salaryman husband has been sent to America on business until Christmas. Depending on how busy he is, I may or may not fly over to keep him company. But for now, I'm trapped at home by a two-week work commitment. Sigh.

It's funny, I'm often alone for the majority of the day and evening, but knowing there's no one coming home tonight has made the apartment seem deathly still. I miss you, honey. Yesterday night, we bought ice cream after walking home from dinner--during which we had the most delicious oysters; one large, plump one each; so fresh and full of the tangy smell of the ocean, I wanted to stick my nose in the shell and just snuffle all night (they were so beautiful, I took a picture with my husband's cell phone camera, but then forgot to upload it before he left). When we got home however, I found I was too full to eat my ice cream, so now I've got it sitting in the freezer. It seems rather lonely to have the caramel sundae by myself, somehow.

I've also decided that while my husband's away, I'll probably be sleeping on the couch, though not so much for sentimental reasons. Our bedroom has already turned frigid with the change in seasons (bad insulation, for those of you not in the know), and I don't seem equipped with enough solo heating power to make the bed a bearable place. I recently huddled, shivering between the icy sheets, for an entire hour before I gave up and dragged myself and my blankets into the much-warmer living room.

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A Cake and a Website

A few weeks ago, I made some uncharitable comments about cakes and other sweet confections in Japan. I take it back. Well, some of it, anyhow. I recently went to a wedding, and one of the thank-you gifts was an apple cake made, according to the box, by King Macadamian--whoever that is. From past experience, edible thank-you gifts in Japan tend to be fairly blah in nature. But this little block of (much to my chagrin) likely mass-produced apple cake was... I don't want to use the word "astounding," but it was the best damn cake I've eaten in Japan so far. Seriously!

I should have taken a picture but my husband polished it off today--which had me feeling aggrieved but helpless to object (I mean, if someone says to you, "Oh, this is the best blah, blah, blah I've ever blah" and she's been slowly savoring it, stretching it out, for days, and there's only a bit left--do you polish it off, I ask you? No. The answer is firmly no. Even if you haven't tried a single bite. It doesn't matter because you never would have known what you were missing anyway. But for the person who had already tasted of the forbidden apple cake...).

The cake was very simple. A little pale-golden loaf, very fine light crumb, a fanned layer of poached apples on top, as well as thin apple slices within the cake itself. It was so good, I'm going to have to unsuccessfuly attempt to recreate it, I think. The two ingredients that caught my attention were almond powder and cornstarch. In addition, it used oil instead of butter, so it seems to be some kind of sponge, and yet it was denser and moister than a sponge--but so fluffy...

I tried to track down the cake by searching for King Macadamian and was taken to "murmurer de patissier"--whatever that is. I never found it, but this website (which I don't believe is connected to my apple cake) did have a fun Flash trick for their cake section, whereby you can view each of their cakes from four angles and also move a magnifying glass over the cake to get a close-up view of the details. It's quite funny... Okay, I at least found it amusing. If you are also someone who is easily amused, go play.

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Saveur Magazine -- What Happened?

What in the madre de dios is going on with Saveur magazine? Being in Japan means I haven't physically flipped through its pages lately and it's been a while since I visited their website, but the cover of their latest issue... blueberry pancakes?! I realize I've been going on and on about pancakes myself of late, but--a loyal reader has set expectations, and one does not expect to see pancakes on the cover of Saveur; Martha Stewart Living, maybe.

While Saveur's always kept fairly conservative about its covers, it had a distinct feel, compared to the other food magazines out there. And one always knew that, within, one was likely to find a classy feature on, say, pig's blood porridge from a little village in nothern China. But it seems this issue is featuring Maine and blueberrries (frozen blueberries, at that). What are they doing? Trying to compete with Cook's Illustrated? Oh geez.

Also, the design has changed. The colored border framing a white cover is gone. What's happening? And what's next? Christmas cookies? Hot chocolate? How sad.

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That Magic Lid

So today I tried making my Near Perfect Pancake recipe, using the lid trick--okay, it's really not a "trick" per se; it's more like lid... usage?--the idea of which came from the Japanese hot cake recipe I posted about, down below somewhere. And... it worked! It worked nicely! I wouldn't go so far as to remove the "Near," but my near-perfect pancakes were lighter and flouffier than they've ever been. I was a happy girl. I had to adjust the heat to medium-lowish though, so that the cake had time to rise under the lid without getting scorched. This means it took a few minutes longer than it usually does. But all's good when pancakes puff prettily.

So now I bid you all to go dig out your favorite pancake recipe and--get this--try cooking it in a pan... with a lid! Though, really, I cannot guarantee results for all, so you'd be best off using my pancake recipe, which you'll have to search for yourselves because I'm really too busy to be adding hyperlinks and whatnot. I really have to go. Oh, I forgot to add that I also sifted the flour this time--something I never did before but is actually ridiculously easy when you're only sifting 6 tablespoons.

Oh, PS: The bloody fleas are back! On Edward, that is. My husband took him for a walk the other day and somehow ended up at The Golden Kingdom of the Flea Universe--i.e., my in-law's house (anyone puzzled will have to seek out the post "Much Ado About Fleas"). When I found out, of course the first thing I shrieked was "Fleas!" but he was all, "Tsk, it was only five minutes." Yeah, well, yesterday, what do you know? Little happy black critters skittering and skipping about on my puppy's belly and me going nuts, busy as hell, needing to catch the train to the office, but having to through through all that mad vacuuming and toxic fumigations... I hate to sound like a bad commercial but "Five minutes is all it takes, people." You know the worst part? Walking a flea-ridden dog. I mean, you don't want to come across as unfriendly, when you meet other dogs. But you hardly want to admit the truth of why you are so meanly dragging your dog away before crotches can be sniffed and fleas transferred. I mean, if you had a human child, would you announce to the world that it had lice? It doesn't matter if it was a one-off thing or that the child was promptly treated. You can bet your panty-shields that no mother is going to let their kids play with your cooty-ful offspring henceforth. Okay, I *really* have to go now.

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