Cooking the Books – Kerry Greenwood

I fell upon this book (received from Netgalley, thank you) with glad cries.

Well, no, I opened the book on my Kindle looking forward to a light mystery, and within minutes was uttering glad cries. It started with the prefatory note, which includes the line “This whole book is a work of fiction. As is the city of Melbourne itself.” Score.

Bigger score:

“He deserves to be remembered. He was Richard the Third’s confectioner, a highly paid position. … He went with Richard to the battle of Bosworth Field, where the King was defeated and the cook was captured. Henry VII offered him his life if he would give him the recipe for these sugary little treats. He refused, and after a week Henry VII had him executed. But the cook gave the recipe to one of his jailers and the local bakers made them for centuries, all through the Tudor period. Just to remind the rulers that there had been a good king who was usurped and murdered.”

- Commence glad cries. I didn’t read The Daughter of Time a few months ago for nothing: Josephine Tey won me to the Ricardian cause, and this matter-of-fact comment was a pleasant surprise. She had me at “Bosworth jumbles”. Also, the cookies sound more than pleasant.

Even bigger score:

“Then there was no reason why we shouldn’t relax, watching Doctor Who and eating the rest of the Christmas chocolates…”

Biggest:

“We spent the evening watching Doctor Who – I was still undecided about the new Doctor…”

*happy sigh* (Don’t get me wrong – I like Matt Smith more than I ever expected to. But my heart will always belong to Ten.)

This is, unexpectedly, geek heaven – Corinna would rather settle in and watch Doctor Who, is still reserving judgment on Dollhouse (series/season 2), and the publisher’s note is by Joanna Tribble. Daniel passes some time watching Battlestar Galactica. Someone uses a Princess Bride quote – and it’s not “Inconceivable!” Shakespeare and Tolkien and Star Wars – oh yes.

There is a strong resemblance between this book and the Diane Mott Davidson series about her caterer, Goldy Bear. (One difference: I don’t cringe over Corinna Chapman’s name.) Both main characters are in The Industry, and there was a DMD in which Goldy hosted a PBS cooking show (and another where she catered a fashion photo shoot, to which this is more closely related). Both are first-person POV, and both feature women who are not size six, five-foot-nine, or raving beauties, who exult in being beloved of hunks (Note: A Sabra is a Jew born in Israel), and who enjoy good food, both the making and the eating. Both include recipes (and both, sadly, fail to provide recipes for the lovely items described in the story for which I would most enjoy recipes – those Bosworth jumbles, for example). The settings are very different – Corinna lives in Australia, and is happily single, her only “child” the fifteen-year-old apprentice she acquired in one of the other books I look forward to getting my hands on, while Goldy is a divorced and remarried mother of one living in Colorado. Where Goldy is pretty much billed as an expert in every aspect of cookery, Corinna is an avowed baker. Bread is her passion, and given a choice she’ll stick to it. Also, the mystery (mysteries, actually) faced by Corinna are much more realistic. Not to violate River Song’s strictures against Spoilers, but one of my problems with the majority of “cozy” mysteries has always been that I don’t think I’d ever find constantly tripping over bodies cozy – and if I had a friend like Goldy who did keep tripping over bodies I think I’d maintain the friendship, but from a safe distance. By email, say. Another point: Goldy met her Schultz, a cop, over one of the bodies she found; I don’t know the origin story of Corinna and David yet, but his career as detective leads naturally into a reasonable level of assistance from her. I’ve enjoyed the Goldies, for the most part but based on this one I think the Corinnas may well be superior. The writing is more fun than any I’ve read in a long while; it reads like the conversation of a good friend. And I think Corinna would be a good friend, based on her geeky intelligence – I like this lady, a lot. And Daniel, of course. And the two of them together.

To sum up, this was a book filled with intelligent writing which I would say sparkled if that wasn’t a blurb cliché, and with wonderful characters I want to be friends with and awful characters about whom I want to be able to gossip with the ones who are my friends. I don’t think I’ve read much set in Australia, and I loved it; I’ve read quite a lot centered around the food industry, and I loved it. It is a cozy mystery that comes closer to fitting the description than any in recent memory, and I loved it. I even loved the cats, and I’m a dog person.

I loved it.

 

Mighty Spice – John Gregory-Smith

You never know what’ll be posted next hereabouts.  Here, a wonderful cookbook downloaded from Netgalley – thank you!

The first thing I always do with a cookbook is flip through it to gauge a few things. Is it attractive? Are there a lot of photos accompanying the recipes? Are there recipes I’m actually going to make using ingredients I can actually obtain and tools I actually have? I’m what the Food Network calls a home cook; I have called myself a foodie, though I’m not sure I quite qualify. Still, I figure if you have several thousand recipes saved to your hard drive you’re a foodie. My equipment is pretty basic, though; I do not, for example, own a blender apart from an immersion boat motor (I know), and while there probably is some store around here where I can find lemongrass I haven’t seen it yet. One more thing I look for in a cookbook is if there’s something extra: does the book have an interesting angle, or a personal viewpoint that adds interest?

Mighty Spice is visually beautiful, from the cover on through. I love the fonts used; I enjoy it when something other than plain old Garamond or TNR makes an appearance. (The text is, I am certain, beautifully clear “in person”; through Adobe Digital Editions on a 15″ laptop screen it’s problematic.) There are indeed a lot of photos, and very appealing ones at that, of both the finished products and, even better, of the spices that are the concentration of the book. That is, obviously, the angle here: the idea is to provide a little history and loving detail about 30 spices, with the promise that no more than five will be used in each recipe. (I would assume this is at least in part so that no flavors are overwhelmed, that the spices used get to shine.) At the back of the book is a guide to the spices highlighted throughout.

My main concern with this concentration is that I’m not cooking for just myself, but also for a digestion long used to a Scottish-Irish-boiled-meat sort of diet. (This is not yet another slam on British food, but just the observation that traditional Scots and Irish and British fare isn’t very spicy. I joke that our chili is Scottish chili; a real chili aficionado would laugh at it.) But while there are a large number of recipes here that call for chilies and other “hot” spices, there are quite a lot that surprised me with their simplicity while still being completely different from anything I normally make. Like, for example, (Lebanese Rice with Lamb and Aubergines)- almost a sort of eggplant-based lasagna with rice added. It’s wonderful, and I have absolutely no doubt that I will be adding this to the repertoire. (Confession: I substituted ground beef for the lamb. I would, fluffy guilt-inducing images aside, like to try it as written though.)

The drinks and dessert section is gorgeous. I’m primarily a baker (which is the primary reason why I’m far from svelte), and the Dark Chocolate, Clove and Cinnamon Brownies and Lebanese Lemon and Vanilla Cake (who knew I’d be cooking Lebanese?) were decadent and rich and absolutely to be made again, particularly the cake. You see, that recipe didn’t come out perfectly. (The second-degree burn from my failed attempt at caramel is just finally healing. They’re right – sugar burns are worse.) I am resigned to practicing, making it again and again until I get it right. I was very surprised at the number of recipes I really, really want to try; it’s been a complete reversal of my experience with Anne Burrell’s cookbook. I requested that expecting dozens of recipes I’d want to make, and instead I don’t think I found any.

There are recipes here which call for to-me outré ingredients, like the afore-mentioned lemongrass. Stop & Shop might have garam masala (in fact, I’ll bet they do), but I don’t know; I found tahini once but can’t remember where, and asking is pointless. (“Do you carry tahini?” *completely blank look*) But in several the starring spice is something as simple and comfortable as vanilla or cinnamon or ginger. The techniques are for the most part very simple, though I was stretched a little (and failed miserably at making caramel; turns out sugar burns really are that bad, but the band-aid will come off soon); there is plenty to be made here with the equipment I have (though the instruction to beat eggs and sugar on high for 10-15 minutes was daunting. I used a rotary beater as long as my arms held out).

I think the only slight drawback to this cookbook for me is that it is very quickly obvious that it comes from a British publisher (Duncan Baird Publishers). They do an excellent job of providing measurements and temperatures for just about everyone conceivable, but certain things are awkward – like recipes calling for seven ounces of butter when I’m used to cup-based measurements, and one stick (half a cup) is four ounces; others call for caster or icing sugar, which I had to look up (caster sugar is almost, but not quite, superfine sugar, and icing sugar is confectioners’ sugar); eggplants are called aubergines (which I knew) and so on.  But it all works, quite well.  This is highly recommended, whichever side of the pond you’re on.

 

Random – Cooking for your kids: Yor doin it wrong.

I get a daily email from Allrecipes.com, and now and then instead of one featured recipe the email takes on a theme. Today’s was Oktoberfest, and one of the recipes listed was Bacon Wrapped Bratwurst … I can’t help but view this with a combination of That’s awesome! and Heart attack on a plate!, with a hearty helping of I gained five pounds just reading that! For the heck of it, I clicked, partly to see the comments.

The comments on Allrecipes.com are not quite as painful as, say, the comments on Youtube or the random article that comes along on pseudo-news sites, or at least not in the same way. Though the spelling can be hilarious, the ridiculousness on this site lies in two areas.

One is the overwhelming number of comments that say “Great recipe! I just changed a few things …” and then proceed to list amount changes, ingredient changes, and changes to cooking method. The most beautiful ones in this category are those which state they changed half the recipe the first time they used it – and then give it three stars. Or less.

Which brings me to the other area: where people give one, two, or three star reviews … and then say in the comment that it was their fault that the recipe failed. Sometimes, as above, they changed everything about the recipe – or they did something wrong … Regardless, they feel compelled to post a review anyway, although they did not technically make that actual recipe.

The best version of #2, though is one I have, sadly, seen more than once: “I loved this!! What a great recipe!! My husband/wife/kids/parents/great aunt Tilly LOVED this!! Will definitely make this again!!” Aaaannnnd … this person gives it one star. Er. Oops?

The reason the Bacon Wrapped Bratwurst recipe prompted this bit of a rant was that a good percentage of the comments, instead of saying “great, but not something to make often” or “my cardiologist hates you”, pointed out that the brats were too spicy, and next time they’ll cut back on the cayenne pepper. There are a couple of directions this takes me. (I’m longing to post at least the last part of this as a comment, but I a) don’t want to register and b) don’t want to start a flame war… so I’m venting.) (ETA – oh, all right, I registered.  I have only limited will power.)

First – People? It calls for a full teaspoon of cayenne. A teaspoon. That, unless you’re used to it, is a LOT of cayenne – most recipes I can think of use about half that, or sometimes a quarter teaspoon. I’ve seen 1/8. I don’t understand how anyone who’s been cooking more than a week can have the nerve to complain about a teaspoon of cayenne being too hot. To quote Bill Engvall, “Here’s your sign”.

Secondly, and this didn’t strike me until I started writing this and the comments coalesced in my mind … This is a high fat, high cholesterol, high sodium, high *everything* recipe with no redeeming factors except that it tastes terrific: a guilty, guilty pleasure to the nth degree. And it calls for the brats to be simmered in beer. (I do love that it’s light beer … must watch the calories!) I’m aware that the alcohol is going to boil off, but I have my doubts that ALL the alcohol is going to burn off … (pause for search)

… Ooh, I love Wikipedia. They have a chart which indicates, from “a study by a team of researchers at the University of Idaho, Washington State University, and the US Department of Agriculture’s Nutrient Data Laboratory” (in other words, not some guy in his garage with a bunsen burner), that a dish baked or simmered for a quarter of an hour with alcohol stirred into the mixture is going to retain … 40% of the alcohol content. My unscientific impression is that brats, poked with a fork and immersed in beer and solely beer to simmer for fifteen minutes – particularly given that the directions indicate you should put the sausages in the beer and then bring it up to a boil – might just absorb more than that. A lot. And beer absorbed into the sausages before and during the heating process through those holes poked with that fork isn’t going to evaporate.

So how is it that the concern of several commenters is that the heat was too much … FOR THEIR SMALL CHILDREN?

“It was a little spicy for my 6 and 4 year old”
“time I made it I used cracked black pepper instead..much better, especially for small children!”
“I will decrease the cayenne simply because I felt it was too spicy for me and our 2 year old.” (TWO??)
“I also did a few in a mix of brown sugar and cracked black pepper for my 5 and 3 yr olds.”

Let’s review some of the ingredients, shall we?

- 3 CANS light beer
- 1 TEASPOON cayenne pepper
- children under six.
- at least 40% of alcohol content of said beer (basically the same thing as feeding children under six years of age more than a can of beer)

Are you insane?