Pigs at the Trough

One year I made gender rolls.

Last year it was a cake to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday.

Today, and with no small amount of help from The World’s Greatest Husband, the kids* got a cake to celebrate the last novel of the school year, The Lord of the Flies.

Poor Piggy.  My neighbor, the art teacher, suggested making red velvet cakes to really capture the gore.  I liked the juxtaposition of cute pink piggy and red cake. 

The cake, if you’ll excuse the heavy-handedness of the pun, killed.  I used THIS recipe.  The buttercream is so good that I re-copied the recipe below.  When a pack of ninth graders demand copies of a cake icing recipe?  You know you’ve hit on a winner.

If only the novel were as simple as the biological response to eggs, sugar, flour, and butter.

We study not only William Golding’s ideas about man’s internal struggles with good and evil, but Maslow’s heirarchy of needs, Stanley Milgram’s experiments on obedience, and Philip Zimbardo’s prison work from Stanford

I feel almost bad about what I do to their innocence by the end of this unit.

Hence.  The cake.

*Kids = students, not actual came-outta-me offspring.  Although the offspring got their own mini piggy cake compliments of their dad, who is a saint and made it for them while I was off doing god knows what else.  Probably licking pink icing off my arm.

Labor intensive yet totally worth it vanilla icing

* before you make this, have someone in your house or neighborhood sign an oath that he/she will remove any extra frosting from your house immediately after preparation.  Otherwise you run a real risk of calling in sick to work and hiding in the basement in your pajamas with your face in the bowl.  And that would just be embarrassing.  For all of us.
 
 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
2 cups (4 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2 cups sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
 In a medium-size saucepan, whisk the flour into the milk until smooth. Place over medium heat and, stirring constantly, cook until the mixture becomes very thick and begins to bubble, 10-15 minutes. Cover with waxed paper placed directly on the surface and cool to room temperature, about 30 minutes.  Wax paper!??  Who the hell has waxed paper unless you’ve been pretending to be crafty-mom and making those things with autumn leaves that you iron.
In a large bowl, on the medium high speed of an electric mixer, beat the butter for 3 minutes, until smooth and creamy. Gradually add the sugar, beating continuously for 3 minutes until fluffy. Use the minute you shaved off the mixing time in the cake recipe and add it here.  More beating the frosting = more better frosting.  Yes.  I know that’s grammatically incorrect. 
Add the vanilla and beat well.
Add the cooled milk mixture, and continue to beat on the medium high speed for 5 minutes, until very smooth and noticeably whiter in color. Cover and refrigerate for 15 minutes (no less and no longer—set a timer!). Use immediately.  Those are the exact words from the Magnolia Bakery recipe.  They sound serious.  I’d do it.

 

Crabby Party

 

You don’t need any recipes for the crab feast – just crabs, shrimp, coleslaw, corn, potato chips aplenty, deviled eggs, and a salad.  And beer.  Don’t forget the beer.

The cake wasn’t good enough for me to pass along the recipe, although the icing was great – straight up chocolate buttercream from the Barefoot Contessa.

The ice cream, though, you’re going to want to make.  I got all three recipes from Epicurious and have copied them below with my notes.  Keep in mind that ice cream takes about ten times longer thanyou think it will to freeze up.  I

sent out a desperate email begging for an already-frozen ice cream maker cannister at 1 in the morning and, because I have the most well-prepared friends on the planet, got a call by 8 the next morning and was cranking out the good stuff by noon on multiple machines.  To avoid making the same mistake I did, try not to decide, last minute, that you MUST make three different kinds of homemade ice cream within 24 hours of the time you’ll be serving it.  Lesson learned.  (probably not.)

 Vanilla Bean Ice Cream
2 vanilla beans – Vanilla beans cost a fortune.  I might quit my job and move to Madagascar and become a vanilla bean farmer.
3 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 large eggs

With a knife halve vanilla beans lengthwise. Scrape seeds into a large heavy saucepan and stir in pods, cream, milk, and sugar. Bring mixture just to a boil, stirring occasionally, and remove pan from heat. 

In a large bowl lightly beat eggs. Add hot cream mixture to eggs in a slow stream, whisking, and pour into pan. Cook custard over moderately low heat, stirring constantly, until a thermometer registers 170�F. (Do not let boil.) Pour custard through a sieve into a clean bowl and cool. Chill custard, its surface covered with wax paper, at least 3 hours, or until cold, and up to 1 day.  This is less of a pain in the ass than it sounds.  Also, I used a meat thermometer.  No harm, no foul.

Last step:  churn it up in your ice cream maker according to your ice cream maker’s directions. 

Grapefruit Sorbet
5 medium-large pink grapefruit (about 4 pounds)
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoons (or more) sugar  – OR less, I found this a little sweet, honestly.
2 tablespoons vodka

Using knife, cut peel and white pith from grapefruit. Working over bowl, cut between membranes to release segments. Squeeze any juice from membranes into bowl. Discard any seeds. Cut each segment into pieces; add to bowl. Transfer contents of bowl to 4-cup glass measuring cup.”  Those were the official instructions, mine are more along the line of: get the parts likely to taste bitter off the grapefruit then squish them into a bowl.  Ta-da.

Place 3 cups grapefruit and juice mixture in blender (reserve any remainder for another use). Add 3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar and vodka. Blend until almost smooth and sugar dissolves, about 2 minutes. 

Do the ice cream maker thing. Spoon sorbet into container. Cover and freeze until firm, at least 3 hours. (Sorbets can be made 1 day ahead.)

Salted Caramel Ice Cream
1 1/4 cups sugar, divided
2 1/4 cups heavy cream, divided
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt such as Maldon
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup whole milk
3 large eggs

Heat 1 cup sugar in a dry 10-inch heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring with a fork to heat sugar evenly, until it starts to melt, then stop stirring and cook, swirling skillet occasionally so sugar melts evenly, until it is dark amber. – this is sort of intimidating to read – but it’s not bad.  And totally worth it.  Really, really worth it.

Add 1 1/4 cups cream (mixture will spatter) and cook, stirring, until all of caramel has dissolved. Transfer to a bowl and stir in sea salt and vanilla. Cool to room temperature or thereabouts, unless you’re in a hurry and then just pretend you did this by sticking it in the refrigerator for a half hour.

Meanwhile, bring milk, remaining cup cream, and remaining 1/4 cup sugar just to a boil in a small heavy saucepan, stirring occasionally.

Lightly whisk eggs in a medium bowl, then add half of hot milk mixture in a slow stream, whisking constantly. Pour back into saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until custard coats back of spoon and registers 170�F on an instant-read thermometer (do not let boil). Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl, then stir in cooled caramel.

Chill custard, stirring occasionally, until very cold, 3 to 6 hours.

Do the ice cream maker thing.  (it will still be quite soft), then transfer to an airtight container and put in freezer to firm up.  Use the BIG spoon.  Try to share.

Pops

Watch my dad on the Dylan Ratigan (who the?) show on MSNBC  (albeit mislabeled there at the start by a captioner asleep at the switch).  I promise he’s not getting all spitty and frothy and Keith Olbermannish.  Because he’s smart, and not prone to spitty frothiness, nor Olbermanishiness, mercifully.  Honest.  

Brace yourself for a non sequitur.

I’ve been baking.  It’s that time, no? 

You want these cookies, even though my description of how to make them is a little…scatological. 

And if you’re not the baking kind, please go back and read my review of The Day Leo Said “I Hate You” from Monday.  Then make me laugh by telling me something, not someone, you hate.  Perhaps I’ll send you a copy of the book.  Or cookies. 

One more day of corralling hyperactive adolescents enlightening young minds before winter break.  I’m the little engine that could.