Kitsch-en Kounter: Cinco de Mayo CHURRIOS Burro

Have you ever created something that works out surprisingly well on your first try only to be foiled by over confidence in a subsequent attempt to recreate it?  Well, get ready...

During the holidays, I decided to exploit the possibilities of my
rabbit-shaped cake mold for a last-minute, potluck dessert.

When there is no time for a cake but there is a houseful of christmas cookies, assorted candies, and a box of Rice Krispies (more than likely generic), I feel like that charmed Chopped contestant who, instead of being afraid of the mystery basket's contents, realizes he is the only one who knows to remove the membrane from prairie oysters.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Rice Krispies Reindeer - not
perfect but pretty solid for  an impromptu holiday treat!

Using a bread knife to saw chocolate-covered pretzel rods, I refashioned
them into antlers by melting the chocolate with a barbecue lighter and
"gluing" on the remaining pieces.  The ears are the neighbors' homemade
biscotti, the eyes are jordan almonds, and the details are rendered in
chocolate icing.  A snowy bed of coconut is dressed up with a few holiday
decoratifs.  The nose, of course, is a bright-red maraschino cherry!

As I never did a proper "Kitsch-en Kounter" post about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Rice Krispies Reindeer during the holidays, I felt it was acceptable to recycle the idea for Cinco de Mayo...but Rice Krispies seemed like old hat.  Then I remembered the small batch of marshmallow-Honey Nut-Cheerios (cough, store brand, cough) squares I made.  With a scant bag of Cheerios and the dregs of a marshmallow bag, I created a dessert from which we have coined the name "Churrios" for a flavor profile complimentary to that of Mexico's favorite donut stick!!!

The makings of Churrios!

It becomes acutely apparent that your father was an unusual man when your adult brother comes over for a visit and wants to "make a craft."  A lone picture exists of the one time that our dad tried to take us fishing, learning quickly that his sons were destined for different things. And so we found ourselves, two thirty-something brothers, not comatose in front of a football game, not parked at a sports bar, not playing video games, or concentrating on the contents of an automobile's engine compartment, rather brainstorming in the kitchen for ways to transform a Rice Krispies Rabbit/Reindeer into a Churrios Burro (Burr-io?).  By word and deed our dad encouraged ingenuity and creativity - culinary and otherwise - over what might be considered more masculine pursuits.  He was cool.

Included in our brainstorming session were ideas for presentation.
I quickly found one of my vintage Mexican tablecloths but immediately
became crestfallen when I  realized that I had recently discarded a bower
of paper flowers and even a mini Mexican flag...

In cooking, crafting, and sewing, my priority is always to make the most of what we have on hand.  With all the urgency of panicky usher seeking medical relief for a theater patron, I screamed, "Is there a miniature sombrero in the house?!!"  In a home where the answer to that query can come so rapidly in the affirmative, one might assume that there wasn't anything for which this project could go wanting; the Churrios Burro, however, required a very special trip to the store.

For what would a Churrios Burro be without some Chiclets and Bandera de Coco?

Nobody's immune to the chiclet-teeth Hollywood makeover!

A tad over-anxious, we un-molded the Churrios Burro before he was quite ready.  I made a cinnamon frosting with coconut milk to add some highlights/character but by the time our little Burrito was assembled, there was no time for superfluous adornments before he began to implode.

With dead M&M eyes, a blanket of flattened Bandera de Coco, a single, snaggle chiclet
tooth, and that miniature sombrero, our Churrios Burro had to hit his bed of Mexican-flag
coconut before he fell completely apart.

The lighting inside wasn't so hot; we wondered if a trip outside would improve the situation...

Clearly, it didn't...

This Churrios Burro is suffering from the dreaded "Cinco spread."
Our impatience combined with the large format of Cheerios might have
made the molded dessert a questionable choice BUT, because it still
tasted delicious, I will share the recipe without feeling like a total ASS!

CHURRIOS RECIPE

Ingredients:

1 stick of Butter

1 16 oz. Bag of Mini Marshmallows

1 17 oz. Box of Honey Nut Cheerios (or generic equivalent)

1/2 teaspoon Cinnamon

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

Cinnamon-Sugar for dusting

Directions:

In a heavy-bottomed dutch oven or stock pot, brown the butter (really, it makes a delicious difference).  When the butter is browned, add the entire bag of marshmallows and allow them to melt (stirring constantly).  Once the marshmallows are melted, remove the pot from the heat and stir in the cinnamon, vanilla, and cereal.  Press the combined mixture firmly into the mold of your choice.  Once set, remove the Churrios from the mold, sprinkle with cinnamon-sugar and decorate for your chosen holiday extravaganza.

But be patient before un-molding or he'll never be able to say "Heeyaw, Heeyaw, Heeyaw!"

"The Donkey Serenade" - Glenn Miller with The Andrews Sisters (1940)

Feliz Cinco de Mayo!!!  Now go make an ass of for yourself!


Cheer-ios!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip

After innumerable viewings of The Dick Van Dyke Show, what once seemed bizarre and mildly-repulsive has started to sound vaguely appetizing.  In an episode entitled "All About Eavesdropping," the Petries engage in a one-way battle with their best friends and neighbors, the Helpers, after unintentionally overhearing a private conversation conveyed via a child's intercom.  Feelings are hurt when Millie considers the possibility that Laura left out the secret ingredient (mustard) when sharing  her prized recipe for avocado-peanut butter dip.  Wait a minute - AVOCADO-PEANUT BUTTER DIP?!?!!

We would tell you how good it is but our tongues
are permanently stuck to the roofs of our mouths.
(Source)

What was certainly no more than a writers-room spoof on mid-century foodstuffs has become a years-long source of fascination and dialogue for the members of my family.  Finally deciding to research such recipes, we discovered that the only thing yielded by Google was other inquisitive DVD Show enthusiasts searching for the "real" avocado-peanut butter dip recipe.  So, in answer to their queries and to my own, I decided to write an original recipe for Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip.  After all, I like peanut butter and I LOVE avocado; this was going to be a home-run!  I mean, how hard could it be; the key ingredients are listed right there in the title!

Living smack-dab in the middle of avocado country, we believe that nature's miracle fruit goes with/on everything!

I started by mashing the avocado and blending in a small amount of peanut butter but it was obvious that there was more to this gastronomic delight.  The only real clue to additional ingredients offered by the show is that mustard is key to the dip's success; thinking about the rich, velvety texture of avocado and the stodgy, fatty nature of peanut butter, it only makes sense that something acidic, like mustard, would be needed to lighten the heavy load.

It also occurred to me that lemon juice might brighten things up, balanced by the sweetness of a little
honey.  To add some drama, I sprinkled in a dash of cayenne pepper along with some salt and pepper.

If the ingredient list to Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado Peanut-Butter Dip isn't enough to turn your stomach, then the color must be.

Somewhere between the yellow mustard and the cayenne pepper, the dip's
resemblance to infant excrement was advancing at much too alarming a rate.

I had even considered adding some pressed garlic to the mix but good sense got the better of me.  In every Kitsch-en Kounter experiment, there is a time when the chef must be honest with himself; nothing was going to make this better.  Although I hate wasting food, it felt good to answer the question, "Is Avocado Peanut Butter Dip real?"  Yes, Virginia, Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado Peanut-Butter Dip is real - really disgusting.  Nevertheless, I feel compelled to share the recipe, one that might be better referred to as "schlock-amole," with my Kitsch-en Kounter Kulinary Kadets.

Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip
We even found "Corn Curlies" with which to serve the dip - never mind that they're nacho-cheese flavor.

Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip
(this can be made in quantities, but I wouldn't recommend it)

1 Large Avocado (pitted and mashed)
1 Tablespoon of Creamy Peanut Butter
1/4 teaspoon Yellow Mustard
1 Dash of Cayenne Pepper (this recipe is bordering on a health cleanse)
1 teaspoon Honey
Juice of 1 Lemon
Salt & Pepper to taste (although the taste is not going to get any better, trust me)

Blend all ingredients until smooth.  Serve with Corn Curlies, Wheat Whippies, Peanut Pippies, and/or Potato Poopies.  You are more than welcome to adjust the amounts and play with other ingredients but, as I said, it's never going to be good.  Believe me, "if you see it in the [wacky tacky], it is so."


This was a true Kitsch-en Kounter adventure that actually found success in its failure.  We learned (to our chagrin) that avocado doesn't always improve the taste of everything.  We also learned, for the benefit of all who wondered, that Laura Petrie's Famous Avocado Peanut-Butter Dip was indeed just a writers-room joke - and the joke is squarely on us.  "Oh, Roooooob!"

The Dick Van Dyke Show - "All About Eavesdropping" pt. I

The Dick Van Dyke Show - "All About Eavesdropping" pt. II

As we head into potluck season, instead of loading down the buffet table with yet another cheese ball or nonchalantly setting down the seventh store-bought platter of lifeless crudités, why not thrill partygoers by making Laura Patrie's Famous Avocado-Peanut Butter Dip?  Even if it tastes terrible, it is bound to keep everyone's coats nice and glossy - and they'll thank you for that!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Jack O' Brownie Lantern

You know how you watch every episode of The Great British Bake Off/Baking Show (plus all of its auxiliary programs/interviews) on YouTube before you realize that they offer the latest season on Netflix which somehow translates into a first-class ticket to the world of misplaced confidence, thinking that you can (and should) do anything they can do on the show and do it better?  Well, I do.

Intent on making Halloween last as long as possible, I confidently sauntered up to the Kitsch-en Kounter to do a quick Halloween-themed "bake" - a Pumpkin-Spice-Cream-Cheese-Dark-Chocolate-Brownie Jack O' Lantern.

I saw a technique on the show where a contestant achieved a patterned cake by piping a tinted design into the cake pan and freezing it before adding the bulk of the cake batter.  With pathetically-primitive piping skills, I figured that I could at least eke out a classic jack o' lantern.  As a contrast to the main pumpkin cake,  I piped the design using a batch of dark-chocolate brownie batter, working out a crude, but recognizable, pumpkin face.  Without a proper pumpkin-shaped pan, I simply used a cake round, adding some contour lines and a top-knot stem.

I had no idea if the technique would actually work so I hedged my bets by adding the remaining brownie batter and a cheesecake swirl.  I figured that if the face did turn out, the cream-cheese-brownie swirl would be a great surprise; if the face didn't turn out, I would simply serve it swirl-side-up and no one would be the wiser.

Much to my surprise, it actually worked!
Meet the Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Jack O' Brownie Lantern!!!

My staunch refusal to adhere to the exacting standards of modern baked goods combined with the fact that this was an experimental recipe, meant that there was an overwhelming surplus of batter.  Undeterred, I thought WWMBD? (what would Mary Berry do?); immediately, I retrieved a loaf pan from the cupboard.

Using the remaining batters, I settled upon a pumpkin loaf with a cream cheese swirl.
It seemed a little unfinished, so I whipped up a quick streusel topping. 

I probably should have left well-enough alone.  With nowhere to go, the cream cheese swirl got lost somewhere between the pumpkin bread and the streusel topping.  As is my attitude with all of my baking experiments,
however, I believe that the taste is paramount - and nobody, but nobody, was complaining!

I might not be ready for the pressures of a "showstopper" challenge, but you can be darn sure that I am ready for the spookiest night of the year!

Not to worry, I am definitely not the weirdo handing out
homemade treats or, worse yet, pennies/pencils/raisins!

How are you preparing for the big day?  We hope it is with full-size candy bars!!!  However you choose to celebrate, we wish you a Happy and FRIENDLY Halloween!!!

Casper the Friendly Ghost in "To Boo or Not to Boo" (1951)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Fantasia Ice Cream?!! Oh Boy!!!

You know you've crossed a new, fat-guy threshold when you walk into Disneyland's City Hall to register a complaint and, in the same telltale monotone of a career DMV employee, the dispassionate cast member looks up, gives you the once over, and asks, "It's about the ice cream, isn't it?"

And so it goes.

As Don McLean wrote about the day the music died, so shall I make it my duty to write about the day the ice cream died, more specifically, Disneyland's Fantasia ice cream.  In the earliest part of this century, Disneyland was the purveyor of a most unusual and most delicious ice cream flavor called "Fantasia,"  a spumoni-esque swirl of cherry, pistachio, and banana.  All day long this ambrosia was scooped into freshly-made waffle cones to the delight of those lured in from their Main Street loiterings to the Gibson Girl Ice Cream Parlor.  One terrible day, in what can only be described as a symptom of Disneyland's malignant disease of poor decision making, the brass at food services discontinued Fantasia - thus, my complaint.  Although mine was no standard complaint (lost child, stolen wallet, rude cast member), I was given the standard form to fill out and told in no uncertain terms that because Disneyland switched ice cream sponsors/vendors from Carnation to Dreyer's, Fanstasia, in all of its delicious wonder, had been summarily dismissed.  Call me a Pollyanna, but the only silver lining about Disney severing its historic ties with the Carnation company is that it coincided quite seamlessly with my body severing its historic ties with the proper digestion of lactose.  As they say, when God closes a door, He always gives you a dramatic food intolerance that will certainly leave you agonizing behind that closed door.  You know, "mysterious ways" and all that.

RIP
Fantasia Ice Cream (1960?-2004)
(Source)

In what is fast becoming an old joke, it is asked, "How do you tell when someone is lactose intolerant?"..."Don't worry, they'll tell you."  There are many variations on the joke in which myriad dietary concerns can be substituted (i.e. gluten-free, vegan, nut-free, etc.).  Well, as the (un)official spokesperson of my minority community, I will tell you that I am not only lactose intolerant, I am downright lactose abhorrent - like Stage 5.  My body rejects the dairy-based sugar with a vehemence heretofore witnessed only by Alien's Ellen Ripley.  Therefore, our latest Kitsch-en Kounter endeavor is recreating Disneyland's gone-but-not-forgotten ice cream flavor in a dairy free fashion - a "Faux-ntasia," if you will.  I know, I know, dairy-free ice cream is a contradiction in terms; but after much experimenting (batches and batches), I believe I have created an adequate substitute that scoops like real ice cream and has a similar richness and mouth feel.  Fair warning #1: Just because this recipe is dairy free does not make it healthy/allergen-free; there is plenty of fat (read: flavor), eggs, nuts, sweetness, and food coloring!

Ice Cream Base Recipe
Because Fantasia is comprised of three flavors, you will need to replicate the base recipe three times - once for each individual flavor variation.  Keep in mind that the possibilities are endless; this base recipe requires no additional sugar and could easily lend itself to other flavor profiles.  Also, the egg yolks can be eliminated for a slightly-less-velvety, slightly-more-vegan experience.

1 Can Cream of Coconut
1 Can Coconut Milk
Pinch of Salt
3 Egg Yolks
1 tsp. Vanilla Extract (or) Almond Extract

Directions:  Bring coconut cream, coconut milk, and salt to a light boil.  In a separate bowl, whisk the egg yolks and temper them with the coconut mixture.  Add flavored extract and thoroughly chill ice cream base before freezing according to your ice cream maker's instructions.

For CHERRY: Add the reduced syrup from a jar of maraschino cherries, a few drops of red food coloring, and a splash of almond extract (substituted for vanilla extract, it enhances the the bitter-almond flavor of maraschino cherries).  When the ice cream is nearly fully-churned, add the entire jar of drained cherries, halved (optional).  As I recall, Fantasia does not include big cherry bits, but I love 'em.

For BANANA: Add three or four overripe bananas (pureed) and a few drops of yellow food coloring.

For PISTACHIO: Add one 3.4oz envelope of pistachio-flavored
instant pudding mix and a few drops of green food coloring.

When each recipe of ice cream has completed churning, pack in a freezer-safe container and freeze until firm.  To create the signature Fantasia swirl, allow the three flavors to soften slightly and pack alternating scoops of each flavor into an ice cream mold or freezer-safe container and freeze until firm.  Scoop and serve in waffle cones (this part is NOT optional).

Just to up the wacky tacky quotient, I thought we could bust out the
vintage, '70s, Mickey-shaped cake pan to use as an ice cream mold.

Because presentation is everything, right?
Right?!!  No?...

Okay, so maybe the result didn't exactly match the picture-perfect, color-blocked mouse of my dreams,  but imagine this ice-cream "cake" at a child's party!  Just think of the savings; there would be absolutely no need to bake a cake OR hire a scary clown!

And just picture this stuff as the star of a banana split!!!
There is no way that adding pineapple, hot fudge, and (non-dairy) whipped cream could make "Faux-ntasia" bad!

Plus, if you don't factor in your time, and you buy your ingredients on sale, this ice cream is comparable price-wise to store bought and you've created a flavor that can't be found on the retail market!!!

"Oh, boy!"

Fair warning #2: Just because it is inexpensive does not mean that it isn't rich; the coconut base plus the sweetness of the added flavors means that a little "Faux-ntasia" goes a long way!  If you eat enough of this stuff, you'll end up as dainty as a hippopotamus in toe shoes.

"Dance of the Hours" from Fantasia (1940)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: "Give Me LIBERTY [Jell-O] or Give Me Death!!!"

Call it a fixation, if you must, but there is nothing wrong with a grown man constantly thinking about the evolutionary trajectory of a Barbie/princess cake.

If you've been playing along at home, you may recall Blinky,
the Bearded-Lady Cake, who was the centerpiece of our Family 
Freak Show Birthday Party.

Our friend's recent marionette wedding at the Bob Baker
Marionette Theater resulted in this naughty, little nuptial-
themed number. 

Left with the other half of the doll that I used for the groom's legs (above), I pondered the potential for the remaining torso, arms, and head.  This year it was clear that we should celebrate that bastion of hope and freedom, The Statue of Liberty.  With a Barbie cake always on my mind, I was confident I had at least one half (the top half) of our 4th of July Kitsch-en Kounter recipe all ready to go.

Well...almost all ready to go.
I had to drape a toga, steal the finial from a small flag for the torch, permanently
bend one arm, and make a tablet and the iconic coronet out of chip board.  In a
time when some of our most prominent celebrities are transitioning, I didn't give
a second thought to using this violet-haired man for the the Statue of Liberty;
indeed, they both share that same square-jaw, strong nose, and full lips - a
Classical profile is timeless and of free from gender...plus it's the only doll
torso I had in stock... 

And then it was time to paint.
Because realism is so vital to our Kitsch-en Kounter mission, I couldn't just
paint the darn thing green.  First I applied a few light coats of metallic, gold
spray paint.  The verdigris was achieved with a wash of acrylic craft paint in
Caribbean Blue.  Yes, realism is paramount to our operation...with food
safety taking a distant second.

Cake would have been the obvious choice for Liberty's nether regions but I wanted something that truly screamed 4th of July!!!  Instead of cake, I decided to further along the Barbie cake's evolution by once again exploring the possibilities of America's favorite gelatinous food medium - Jell-O.

'Merica
To give the lime-flavored gelatin some opacity, I added
a can of sweetened, condensed milk.  To get a color match,
I added a few drops of aqua food coloring.

Up until this point, I had everything I needed on-hand to complete the craft/recipe.  Strangely enough, I hadn't considered a mold.  And what would a Jell-O mold be, after all, without a mold?  That's right...just Jell-O.

After much ferreting around in the deep recesses of the cupboards, I came up empty handed.  I needed a Jell-O mold with some height and a bit of movement and texture to evoke the sweeping skirts of our statuesque inspiration.  And then a strange thing happened; I remembered the best-selling vase from the home-furnishings retailer in which I worked many years ago.  It was the correct height and had the organic fluting that I wanted.  With no hope of finding the vase, I resigned myself to a hopeless search through the local thrift stores for something that might work.  Believe it or not, the very first store into which I set foot yielded the exact vase for which I was looking - an unprecedented bit of good luck!!!

Sometimes I wish my luck would operate on a grander scale...but for today, I suppose this will do.

See those undulating lines?
Don't they remind you of the Statue of Liberty's skirt too?!!!

Given that this was a glass vase (with a thick-sham base and all that fluting) rather than an aluminum Jell-O mold, I was more than slightly nervous about un-molding my creation.  After 24 hours in the fridge, I gingerly set the vase into a sink full of warm water and said a quick prayer to the statue's first sculptor, Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi.

Prayers are answered, folks.

Moments later, after a fair bit squelching, I was looking at the
wobbly beginnings of our lime Jell-O Lady Liberty!

Just like Bartholdi and the French government before me, it had come time to assemble my statue and present it as a gift to the people of America - but not without some finishing touches.

Did I paint a birthday candle and cut it down so Lady Liberty
would have a functioning torch?  You'd better believe it, buster.

No Jell-O salad would be complete without a garnish.  I used curly parsley
and maraschino cherries - exactly like Liberty Island in New York Harbor.

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your [jiggling] masses, yearning to [eat] free..."

Heck, with phrases like that, the Statue of Liberty sounds like she's talking about "People Like You and Me."

"People Like You and Me" - The Glenn Miller Orchestra in Orchestra Wives

Happy 4th of July, you wacky tacky turkey necks!!!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Strawberry Fields Tie-Dye Pie

My mom might have come of age in the "Age of Aquarius," but she was far from a hippie.  Foregoing the flying fringe of suede vests and rainbow swirls of tie-dye apparel, she instead favored looks decidedly-preppy in nature, fitting of her station as the daughter of a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army.

Mr. Tiny's Mom - circa '68

As the day draws nigh that we Americans join in the celebration of all that is motherhood, I knew I had to create something that would please my mother as much as last year's "Mama's Macaroni Magic" necklace.  Since the macaroni necklace proved entirely inedible, I began brainstorming for a comestible creation that would elicit some carefree memories for Mom (i.e. her pre-motherhood days of the 1960s) - even if she didn't wear tie dye.

Introducing Tie-Dye Pie: A Kitsch-en Kounter Original 

My brother currently works out of state; home for a short time on holiday, he was going to miss the traditional holiday festivities so he and my sister-in-law decided to come over and pre-game Mother's Day before his return to work.  Bringing over a delicious Armenian feast, they left me in charge of the dessert.  Although desserts are not my forte, I continue to feature them as Kitsch-en Kounter experiments in the hopes that my skills will someday improve - which proves increasingly doubtful with each new entry.

 Tie-Dye Pie has three parts: a graham-cracker crust, a grapefruit custard, and a swirl of strawberry puree.
We happened to have a giant grapefruit in the fruit basket, which is odd because I can't stand grapefruit; the only option for the bitter behemoth was to drown it sugar and make it a dessert.  There was also a pint of strawberries teetering on the verge of extinction that needed to be used before becoming another failed attempt at homemade penicillin.  The strawberry puree is a simple blend of the fruit, a tablespoon of sugar, and a few dashes of balsamic vinegar.  I filled the pre-baked crust with the grapefruit mixture, pouring over the strawberry puree before making radial drags from the center of the pie with a skewer. 

Every time I create a pie, a certain friend of mine reminds me that I am an avowed anti-pie guy.  Nevertheless, Kitsch-en Kounter is about creating funny foodstuffs for the people I love; it just so happens that pie, tie-dye and otherwise, comes with the territory.  A quick review of our Kitsch-en Kounter history reveals that I have actually made quite a few pies and might have to change my status to pro-pie.  Sadly, as previously stated, my incompetence in dessert-making remains unchanged.

Of all the skills that I have never mastered in the kitsch-en, piping is at the 

very top of my list of failures.  My only redemption is that the whipped

cream tasted far better than it looked!

A total square, in the very best sense, the pie did not bring back
any acid-induced flashbacks for my mom.  Frankly, I'm not so sure
that she even understood the reference.  I explained to her that it's
totally "pie-chedelic!!!"  She remained more sated than amused.

Do you have a special recipe that you make for your mom on the big day?  Is there a special dessert that she makes for you?  Be prepared when Mother's Day comes.  Give Mom more than pie in the sky, give her pie that is real tie dye!

"Strawberry Fields Forever" - The Beatles (1967)

I don't know how thematically-appropriate this song is but it's 

kind of psychedelic and there were "strawberry fields" in the pie...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Pink Lemonade Pavlova

It may seem supremely un-wacky tacky, but the fact is that I have a passion for film noir.  I think it is because I am particularly simple-minded, not always understanding the many convolutions of plot but usually able to grasp the concept of good guy and bad.  I rather enjoy the exaggerated stylings of both the fast-paced, slang-ridden dialogue and the crisp, well-tailored clothing and hats (film noir has the best costuming).  As much as it is film noir's biggest cliché, I am nevertheless amused when characters are marked as "hard-boiled."  I would relish the opportunity to be so described.  I couldn't even be described as soft boiled.  At this point, the best I can ever hope for is "poached" - gelatinous, ghostly white, and ultimately, quite runny.

As disgusting as eggs (and their human counterparts) are when pondered too deeply, I can't help but love them.  Over-easy, scrambled, coddled, or fried, I will take an egg just about any way it comes.  When in Japan, we went to a hip pizza joint in Kyoto that served both our pizza and our salad with quivering poached eggs atop, baptized so briefly in boiling water that they appeared to be held together by prayer alone.  Wanting to avoid the nightmare of every international traveler (a raging case of salmonella poisoning), everyone in our party rather coyly ate all the way around the eggs.  Mary said that if she was going to get any kind of food poisoning, she wanted it to come from subpar sushi or contaminated horse meat.  Feeling brave, I finally broke the yolk; the velvety, richly-golden goodness that flowed therefrom blessed every remaining bite of that meal.

Where do baby bunnies come from?
Easter eggs!

Yes, eggs are magical - except for the gross white stringy part.  Because they are so versatile and so symbolic of the Easter season, I wanted to highlight eggs in our Easter Kitsch-en Kounter recipe, using them in two ways that I had never had the temerity to use them before.  I have always wanted to make a Pavlova, that pillowy, '20s-era, meringue confection from New Zealand named for Russia's greatest ballerina, Anna Pavlova.  Given that it is Easter, I thought I'd make the pavlova a pale pink.  Options for filling a pink pavlova are endless but in my best effort to again feature the humble egg, I opted for a thick, rich lemon curd.  I can't tell if it was a good idea to combine two things I'd never made before into one Easter dessert but as in many cases, ignorance can be empowering, if not entirely blissful.

The Pink Lemonade Easter Pavlova
A blissful view this ain't but blissfully delicious it was!!!
There really was no good side from which to take the finished product's photo but I
suppose it is as important to share the ecstasy of victory as well as the agony of defeat.
Fortunately, a bed of dyed-green coconut makes everything better.

For both the crackly, crumbly (and maybe under-baked) pavlova and the smooth, luscious lemon curd I will take full credit.  As I was ad lib-ing a meringue recipe for the pavlova, I thought to myself, "This baking stuff is easy.  I don't know why the experts always make it sound like such an exact science..."  I guess that's because it is.  Removing the pink, lemon-perfumed pavlova from the oven, it looked perfectly puffed and pretty; as it cooled it started to rapidly deflate.  When it came time to assemble it, it started cracking around the edges.  Undeterred, I figured the lemon curd (made with strict adherence to recipe guidelines), the pink mommy & me Easter bunnies, the speckled eggs, and the bed of freshly-mown coconut grass would be enough to disguise its many imperfections.  As delicious as the lemon curd was, its powers to save the pavlova pile-up were quite limited.  As with most Kitsch-en Kounter experiments, it comes down to a matter of the tortoise and the hare; taste reigns supreme, with looks running a very distant second.  Actually, I can't be sure if that makes "taste" the tortoise of the hare...

Thinking that I might get ambitious and make a black & white pavlova as
a tribute to film noir, I went ahead and made a chocolate bunny as well.
Based on the "roaring success" of the pink pavlova, I figured I'd let
sleeping Easter Bunnies lie...especially since their unblinking, beady,
pink eyes kept following me around the room.

Are you making any special recipes for Easter this year?  Have you ever experienced a triumph in making a pavlova?  With a video of the triumphant Anna Pavlova dancing her signature piece, "The Dying Swan" (an accurate reflection of our pavlova), we wish you and yours a very Happy Easter!

"The Dying Swan" - Anna Pavlova

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: The Love Shack!

One word that I make a conscious effort to use as infrequently as possible is "obsessed."  Hosting exchange students in our house quite regularly, most of them Japanese, I learned how bizarre it was to them when we we would so freely express our love - of bagels, of TV shows, of shoes, of songs, of weather, of hair products, of sunglasses, of almost anything except one another.  It is my understanding that the word for love in Japanese is reserved exclusively for only its most romantic definition; it therefore must have seemed particularly odd when I would jubilantly proclaim, "I LOVE hamburgers!"  Some romances never die.  

These days, it isn't enough to like something.  It isn't even enough to love something.  To prove the fervor of our 21st-Century commitment to trends, movements, and inanimate objects, we must say that we're OBSESSED!!!  Well, occasionally, I fall victim to the vernacular and find myself obsessed with something, in this case, Betty Crocker's New Boys and Girls Cook Book.

Betty Crocker's New Boys and Girls Cookbook

Originally published in 1957 and printed many times since, Betty Crocker's Boys and Girls Cookbook was among the first to acknowledge the interest of a burgeoning youth population to participate in the kitchen.  The edition that I grew up with, the new edition, was published in 1965 with edits, updates, and a new crop of "home-testers."  When my grandmother would pull this book from the uppermost kitchen cabinet, we knew that we were in for a self-styled treat - mostly because she was probably so sick of looking after four rambunctious kids that she knew the only way to take a break was to sacrifice her freshly Pine-Sol'ed linoleum and unleash us on her immaculate kitchen of lime-green formica.

For what seemed like hours, my brothers and sister and I would pore over the images of party-cut sandwiches, Hawaiian Luau Loaf, clown-faced hamburgers, and - my favorite - the soda fountain drinks served in all manner of old-timey glassware.  We spent so much time deciding what to make that I honestly can't recall if we ever actually made anything (crafty Grandma).  Year after year, I have returned to this book for inspiration, for nostalgia, and for a gateway to my grandparents.  The book makes frequent cameos in conversations with my siblings, mostly as we wax nostalgic and wonder who the keeper of the book is (I guess I'm letting the cat out of the bag).  At this point in its fifty-year history, the book's pages are spattered, dog-eared, and torn.  The back cover is missing and the rusty spiral binding could more accurately be described as barbed wire.  Well worn and well loved, it is a physical manifestation of the kitschy culinary obsessions that blossomed in Mr. Tiny's earliest years.  Way beyond both the limits of our food-styling abilities and the limits of Grandma's patience, one particular recipe in the book very tragically went ever unmade.  Having dreamt of the Enchanted Castle Cake since childhood is proof that an unmade recipe can become the fodder for a lifelong obsession.

Enchanted Castle Cake

"My father took a picture of me with my cake."
Oh, Joan, it was probably because he wanted to capture that lovely
asymmetrical haircut you received at the Braille Beauty College.

With its red/white/pink color story, this recipe made like Cupid, drawing back its bow and shooting straight to this cake lover's heart.  With cake in our hearts and hearts in our eyes, the Enchanted Castle became our Valentine's Day Kitsch-en Kounter project for 2015.  I, of course, terribly bored with the tedium of printed instructions, immediately went rogue.  Even at my advanced age, an entire castle seemed rather daunting; we would take our cake in the direction of something more romantic, more intimate, and more cost-conscious.  Something that, if you saw a faded sign by the side of the road, you'd be more than willing to drive fifteen miles to share in its sweet delight. 

A LOVE SHACK!!!
Humble of both address and architecture (cake-itecture?),
the Love Shack is just a little old place where we can get together.

Starting with a tried-and-true, basic cake recipe, I figured it would be easy to adapt
 into a heart-shaped cake that was also colored in an appropriately-thematic fashion.

I had never before made a red velvet cake and, as it happens, I still haven't.
By the third heaping tablespoon of red gel food coloring, I just couldn't
stomach anymore.  "Maybe it will magically turn red in the oven..."  It didn't.
Incidentally, I just watched someone make a red-velvet cake on TV today
and they used two whole bottles of liquid food coloring!!!  No thanks.

Taking style cues from the Enchanted Castle Cake, I added iced ice-cream-cone spires; swirled in pink confection, they were topped with heart-spangled banners waving from heart-shaped picks.  A polka-dot red carpet welcomes lovers under an awning supported by paper straws.  The edifice is paneled in candy-stripe sticks and studded in pink, candy buttons.  Surrounded by coconut grass and a blue velvet sky, the sweetly-scaled Love Shack is to the Enchanted Castle Cake as Marie Antoinette's little Hamlet is to the Palace of Versailles.  The Love Shack became the perfect finishing touch to our humble Valentine's Day tablescape.

As a child, my favorite part of the book was the possibility, the dream that artfully playing with my food could one day become a legitimate avocation.  As an adult, with easy access to a car/grocery store/kitchen, my favorite parts of Betty Crocker's New Boys and Girls Cook Book are the juvenile "home-testers'" reactions to helping with the book and testing the recipes (see Joan above) accompanied by the lovely, sometimes-flattering charcoal portraits.

"Being a home-tester was the most exciting thing I've ever done." - Randee (What a pity to peak so young)
"I learned how to use a sharp knife - without cutting myself." - Sandra (A recurring theme at Sandra's therapy sessions)
"We learned what words like baste and fold and beat meant." - Peter (Definitely the words of a serial killer)
Betty Crocker is like a real friend to me now." - Carol (You said it, Carol.  Imaginary friends are the best friends)

So, what are your obsessions?  Are you obsessed with making a Love Shack of your own?  Don't let Mr. Shakespeare fool you into thinking that "music be the food of love."  It's cake.  Yes, definitely cake.  So, if you're heading down the Atlanta highway and see our heart-shaped shack, just "Bang, bang, bang on the door, baby."  We'll let you in and save you a piece!

"Love Shack" - The B-52's

Happy Valentine's Day, you wacky tacky turkey necks!!!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny