Carrie Havranek

So, earlier this year, just two short months ago, I made food resolutions for my kitchen.

You know what happens when you write things down? You become accountable. Either that, or the planets are aligning in such a way that I could have not paid attention to the list, and this would have happened anyway. It’s been that kind of year.

Let’s do a quick run-through, shall we?

1. Lemon curd: check. It was more saucy and less curd-y, but I turned lemon sauce into lemon cupcakes and everyone’s mostly happy. But what to do about the two jars in my fridge that are going to spoil? I need a new destination for them. I think a few things happened. I doubled the recipe; sometimes you can do this without consequences, but perhaps curd is not one of those. I think I was too impatient and stopped whisking too quickly, even though it was well more than five minutes.  I think the temperature was not high enough. I was looking at three different recipes that had different numbers of whole eggs and yolks and some involved whisking over a boiler and others involved whisking right in the pan over heat. Reading all these different approaches confused matters. And I realized too late that I’d not added enough sugar. Still, it tasted really good. And they were Meyer lemons. I’m trying not to be too disappointed about this because on the same day, number 6 happened.

2. Have not tackled the coq yet.

3. Creme brulee and souflees are on the horizon, I feel it.

4. Pad thai. I made this with tamarind pulp that gave me a hard time. I’m certain even thinning it with water, as Mark Bittman recommended, still wasn’t enough of a taste. He said to whisk it. That stuff is too damned pulpy. I think it needed my blender or food processor and something a little thicker than water. But it still tasted good, even though the sweet-sour notes of tamarind were not nearly as pronounced as I wanted them to be.

5. I haven’t made pasta from scratch yet, but I do have semolina flour in the cabinet, so that’s half the battle. A trip to Klein Farms for eggs should push this into high gear.

6. I made puff pastry. It was puffy, flaky, and delicious. And it was good. Amen. I did not do the full-out, laminate-the-dough French version, but I will. The quick puff involved fewer turns, but it was till delicious. Its success was so shocking to me that I spent the whole day inordinately thrilled with my accomplishment, convinced that I’m doing the right thing.

7. I’ve returned to a few cookbooks already, so this has happened.

8. Ruhlman’s Twenty rocks. That man is my hero. The pizza dough recipe has me completely rethinking my approach to making pizza dough—and I’d been tinkering with my approach for several years before I *thought* I totally nailed it. This just goes to show you that you never know as much as you think you do. About anything. In Rulhman’s recipe, the slow rise of the dough makes a big difference, and makes for a happy, cooperative dough that rolls out beautifully and develops a nice crust and a chewy interior. I only do one thing differently from what he does, and someday I’ll blog about it here.

9. I don’t think number nine—have adults over with children and have a kick-ass meal without it devolving into chaos—is going to happen anytime soon. Perhaps I was being a bit unreasonable. I will take my delicious meals outside the house, perhaps.

10. Write my own baking recipes. Even though I wrote this as a resolution, it was already starting to happen. I constantly adapt, and with the last few things I made, I adapted so much that it lost most of the vestiges of the original. It happened with the Meyer lemon cupcakes. I did not write down what I did, but I remember, so hopefully I will be able to share that with you, dear reader.

What’s next? Well, I’m thinking more French pastry. And more experimentation with spent grain, which I received from a friend who’s starting a brew pub very soon here in Easton. The spent grain turned into pastry and found its way into sourdough, too. What do you think I should tackle next?

Right now we’re having a bit of Carrie-Internet-blogging overload, because I’m also posting recipes here, at Nostalgia Baking. So if you love me,  you’re reading, and you’re curious, please check both places until I can organize my web presence in a way that is more cohesive and pleasing (to me, and hopefully, you too!). A redesign, complete with a logo and photos, is coming. I promise.

If you know me and/or my kitchen, you know there’s something horribly, horribly wrong with this picture.

My stand mixer, Rosco, is conspiciously absent. Food processor is getting more love, though.

Rosco, my beloved chrome stand mixer, is in the shop, whereby the shop means it’s in Denville, New Jersey, at an authorized KitchenAid repair center. See, KA doesn’t sell its parts to the public, at all—otherwise, John would have fixed it a long time ago. It’s been wobbly for probably a good year, and the main bolt in the back of it comes loose far too easily and often. (I have to whack it with a rubber mallet every few days.) Even at the lowest speed, flour sprays all over the kitchen; the speed is just not calibrated properly anymore. I just hope it’s not too expensive to repair. I’m not planning on a huge expense right now. Cross your fingers that we hear something soon.

I’ve told a couple of friends that parting with it was more emotional than I  had expected. We arrived at the store, which is an appliance/vacumn/sales-repair place. It’s totally old school, smells like cigarette smoke, and the owner was behind the counter at a workbench fixing a black KA mixer. A couple with a young  daughter was behind me in line with their mixer.  The place was hopping for a frigid Saturday in January.

I was telling the woman at the shop what was going on, and she said, “don’t worry, he’ll figure out what’s wrong with it.” Another employee said, “I’ve never seen this one before,” and I told her I got in 2001, from my parents and grandparents, as an early wedding/engagement/Christmas gift. I’ve used it nearly every day since then. Two of those four people are no longer with us.

I handed it over, and I was shaking, and at once, at a loss for words. (Unusual, right?) John was at this point at the door with the boys (Miles was exceedingly excited about the vacuum cleaners, but that’s how he rolls). I met them at the door, and I said to John, “Look at me. I’m crying.” It wasn’t weepy, breakdown kind of tears, but more like the subtle kind that sneak up on you when you’re watching something on television or in a film that moves you.

We softened the blow with good New Jersey bagels, and a trip to the new Penzey’s store in nearby Summit, New Jersey, and a stop at Whole Foods in Millburn/Vauxhall/wherever that technically is. On the way home the boys had a complete and utter behavioral meltdown. Perhaps January is getting to them. Or perhaps, in retrospect, they were as upset as I was about it and that’s how you show it when you’re three.

In the meantime, I’ve affirmed the ability of my food processor to do great things like bring together dough for schnecken (I suspected it would—I make pie crust in the food processor). However, I can’t cream butter and sugar together, so I can’t do frosting. Most cookies are out of the question. Cupcakes are doable, as long as they’re vegan (which is fine, cause that’s damned delicious, too), but I can’t cream vegan butter and confectioner’s sugar without Rosco. So it’s glazes and ganaches, people, until Rosco comes home.

Miles, ever my trusty assistant when it’s time to bake, looked at the counter on Monday, and said, “Mommy, where’s your mixer?” I reminded him of what we did two days ago (why don’t toddlers have a short-term memory?), and he started crying.

That about sums it up.