Tiramisu

In Italian, it means: pick me up; or pull me up. Originally a semifreddo dessert made from ladyfinger biscuits, cocoa, mascarpone cheese, Marsala wine, eggs, sugar and espresso coffee. (Semifreddo is Italian for "half cold" and in culinary terms it refers to any of various chilled or partially frozen desserts.) Within the last few years, I’ve seen tiramisu recipes that don’t completely fit this definition (i.e., they are made with other than espresso and chocolate).

Pat and I were on a business trip in the spring of 2007 in New York. Pat had a touch of the flu, but we were exploring the town of Fishkill as best we could. At a little Italian restaurant called Locanda, they were serving Lemoncello Tiramisu. We had to leave quickly so we didn’t get to try any, but it intrigued me to the point that I decided to develop our own recipe.

Some of the ground rules were: 1) It had to be refreshing. 2) It needed to be identifiable as a tiramisu (i.e., semifreddo using mascarpone and ladyfingers). 3) Non alcolholic so that the grandkids could try it too.

First problem: what can give a rich lemon flavor with out the alcohol in lemoncello? The juice from four fresh lemons, the zest of a half of a lemon, and 1/3 of a cup of granulated sugar were mixed with an 8 ounce container of the mascarpone. While researching tiramisu, I saw that an egg yoke was often added to the cheese mixtures to help it set better, so one was added to the mixture.

The result was promising, but there was too much juice, so it was cut back to two lemons. Also , using frozen lemonade mix would also remove the work of dissolving the sugar. Batches were made using varying amounts of lemonade concentrate. When added to the mascarpone with the lemon zest and an egg yolk, it was virtually indistinguishable from the fresh lemon juice and sugar version. (Purists can still use the fresh lemon juice and sugar!)

Similar experimentation was done to find a good mixture to soak the ladyfingers. (Again, purists can still use the fresh lemon juice - 2 lemons,  sugar - 1/3 cup, and 1/3 cup of water.) The result is below

LEMON TIRAMISU

INGREDIENTS: 8 oz of mascarpone cheese; 8 – 10 lady fingers; 6 oz can of frozen lemonade concentrate; 1 egg yolk; ½ pint of whipping cream; 1 tsp. vanilla extract; ¼ C. of confectioner’s sugar; zest of 1 lemon.

FILLING: Allow the lemonade concentrate to thaw out; then mix the mascarpone with ½ of the can of lemonade concentrate, ½ of the lemon zest and the egg yolk until it is smooth and consistent.

RECIPE: Line a plastic container (a 3 - 4” square that’s 1 ½ - 2” deep works the best) with wax paper. Neatly fold the wax paper at the corners. Mix the left over lemonade concentrate with ½ can of water. Dip the lady fingers in the lemonade mixture and line the bottom of the container (should be 4 or 5). Add ½ of the filling and dip the rest of the lady fingers and layer them. Add the rest of the filling and refrigerate for at least 2 hours (overnight is better).

Mix the whipping cream, vanilla and confectioner’s sugar together and whip until the mixture holds a peak. Carefully invert the container on to a serving plate and remove the wax paper. Evenly cover with the whipped cream, and garnish with the rest of the lemon zest. Slice and serve.

VARIATIONS: Double the ingredients and make in a loaf pan (the picture is a double batch); or, for a further touch of Italy, dip the lady fingers in a mixture of 1 teaspoon of the lemonade concentrate, 4 teaspoons of water, and 4 tablespoons of Lemoncello Liqueur.

NUMBER OF SERVINGS: 6 to 8

PREPARATION TIME: 30 minutes plus setting.

This is a refreshing summer dessert that lives up to its name.
 

Isn't it odd what you remember

"I started out as a child" (to steal a line from Bill Cosby) and then rapidly progressed to a major pain in the butt. Seriously, my first recollection is of being stood up on the counter of the store in Rollersville, Ohio. The store was one of those old-fashioned general stores with the gas pump out in front and a huge National cash register on an old wooden counter.

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s really a memory. Maybe thinking about it over the years has enhanced a feeling into a fully developed memory. I don't remember the house in Rollersville that we lived in. My older brother and sisters went to school in the schoolhouse and used to point it out when we drove by it in later years. It’s frustrating that so many memories that helped shape me seem to have faded into the background.

Early memories are of rented farm houses and plowed fields. Polegard's house, outside of Bradner, Ohio was the first (the spelling may be wrong, but phonetically it was "POLE GUARD" or "POLE GART"). My older brother and sisters taught my younger brother and me checkers and rummy in this house. Our parents liked the farm and, for a while, they had horses.

Somewhere, there is a picture of my sisters, Chris and Doe, and my little brother, Mike, on the front porch, with me looking out of the screen door, just being barely visible due to the glare of the screen. We also sat for pictures in the front yard. Dressed in striped shirt and a stupid looking Tyrolean hat with the feather in the band, I was holding on to Mike. Not much more than three and Mike was still an infant

My older brother Tom, and my cousins, Donnie and Larry climbed ten to fifteen feet up into some poplar trees (actually big shrubs) that my dad was cutting down. Their weight was perfect to bring the trees down slowly (and in the right direction) and it looked like they were having a ball.

Watching Dad repair the Studebaker Eagle. For some reason, he took the hood off. It really looked cool as he drove it down to the gas station without the hood. He traded it for a forty-nine Ford that was in much better condition and I remember going for the first family drive in that car. We lived at the Polegard’s place for about a year.

Next was the Steinhardt's farm, with the individual hog houses (no hogs, just the houses). The houses were cool because they were just about the right size for three and four year old kids. The older kids were allowed to go in the barn, but we only had the hog houses. It all stopped after some one (I think it was Mike) was climbing on the hog house roof and was injured – stitches were needed. We had to stay in the house yard and weren’t allowed in the barnyard.

The memories are more developed and feel more real: My older brother and sisters catching the school bus in front of the house (to go to the Rollersville school).

Watching TV - especially Combat!, Andy Griffith, I Love Lucy, and The Virginian.

Mike and I played trucks in the backyard . For some reason that I can’t recall, we called ourselves "Ed and Mack".

Dad burned a huge pile of brush on the edge of the field next to the house. There were a lot of bushes and a fair amount of poison ivy. Doris reacted to it after walking through the smoke.

Tom had a bow and arrow and was always looking to shoot birds or rodents. It was after dinner and just about dusk, my dad came in the house and told my mom to follow him out to the garage, I wondered what was up and followed them. In the half-light of dusk, there was Tom (in full stalking stance with his arrow drawn back), Chris peered round Tom, and Doris peered around Chris and Mike brought up the rear. They were after some thing that had just run into the garage. Dad stopped them before they followed the skunk. Dad always delighted in telling that story - he always said that maybe he should have let Tom find out the hard way that you don't mess around with skunks.

My mom had a quarter acre vegetable garden at Steinhardt’s. We didn’t have much money, but we had radishes, carrots, leaf lettuce, fresh tomatoes, sweet corn, fresh cucumbers, fried green tomatoes and bread and butter pickles.

My grandma (my dad's mom) came to stay with us. It was very interesting when the hearing aid salesman came and made a putty cast of her ear so that they could make an ear piece that fit tightly into her ear. It was fascinating for a four year old. She seemed much nicer after she got her hearing aid and could talk to everyone without them shouting at her.

Exotic Animals

A collector was going through an exotic animal show. There were dwarf emus that were only 14” high, giant Madagascar hissing cock roaches at four to six inches, llamas, pigmy wallabies, duckbilled platypi and all sorts of strange species.

The collector had come to this particular show because it was rumored that a dealer there was selling an animal that was the most exotic in the world, a rarie. He found the dealer and was able to secure a juvenile member of the species.

The animal looked like a yellow, fuzzy, round ball, with feet on the bottom. It stood 18’ from the top of its head to the tips of its feet; and his impossibly black eyes shone from underneath a thick down-like covering. The animal immediately took a liking to its new owner and cuddled against him whenever it could.

The collector took his new pet home to Boise, Idaho. Not much was known about this creature, so the collector started keeping a journal of the vital statistics of the rarie, whom he now called Leon.

Leon went everywhere with the man. He liked to play fetch with oyster and conch shells. Leon’s favorite food was smoked escargot, stewed in butter and garlic. He could eat thirty or forty pounds in a sitting.

Leon’s owner started trying to shop the book about raries around to various publishing houses, hoping to bring in some money to subsidize Leon’s ever growing palate and size. Leon ate all of the caviar in the local gourmet shop, eschewing the local roe for the imported fare from the Caspian Sea.

And Leon grew; and as it grew, it ate more and more. And it grew at an alarming rate. The size of the creature was such that Leon could no longer cuddle against the collector – the collector had to cuddle with the rarie.

The amount of food consumed was straining the collector's budget and no one wanted a book about a creature that would literally eat them out of house and home.

Finally, in a state of desperation, he took the animal in a dump truck to the edge of a gigantic cliff in the Snake River Canyon with the idea that he would drop it over the edge. Leon was just too big to be put down at the Humane Society; and drastic action had to be taken. Just as the collector was getting set to roll it out of the truck, Leon popped open an eye and looked at him and asked, "Whatcha gonna do now?" The collector explained how he could no longer afford the upkeep, and that dropping it over the cliff would be the most humane way to get rid of such an expensive liability. The animal looked over the edge and with a tear in its eye, it said, .... "It's a long way to tip a rarie."

From time to time I hope to add several more "groaners" that I have heard over the years to the blog. Phyllis Finecy put this on the Dorsett Meeting place in MYFAMILY.com. I added some obfuscation and changed it slightly, but thanks Phyllis. And I thought I'd lost my sense of humor....

Grilled Pizza

I like pizza. All kinds – Margherita with fresh tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and fresh basil; rustic crusts with caramelized onions and roasted garlic with toasted pignoli (kind of a Pissaladiere with a little extra umph); thinly sliced fresh plum tomatoes layered over olive oil and garlic and covered with chopped fresh oregano and shredded mozzarella and finally ¼” slices of homemade Italian sausage; and tomato sauce with oregano and red wine over olive oil and garlic and covered with just about anything. Before my hypertension, I used to order pepperoni and mushroom with extra cheese every chance I got.
Pizza Dough
Makes 2 small or 1 large pizza
2 cups bread flour (11 ounces), plus extra for dusting work surface; 1 teaspoon instant yeast (quick rise, or rapid rise); ¼ teaspoon table salt; 1 tablespoon olive oil, plus additional oil for brushing dough and greasing hands; and 1 cup water (8 ounces), warm (about 110 degrees).
In the work bowl of a food processor, pulse the flour, yeast, and salt to combine (about five quick pulses). With machine running, add oil, then water, through the feed tube; and continue to process until dough forms ball, about 15 seconds. Generously dust work surface with flour; using floured hands, transfer dough to work surface and knead until the dough is silky. Lightly oil a small bowl, place dough in the bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and set aside in draft-free spot until doubled in volume, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.
When dough has doubled, punch the dough down, remove and divide into 2 equal pieces. Working with one piece at a time, form each piece into rough ball by gently pulling edges of dough together and pinching to seal. With floured hands, turn dough ball seam-side down. Cupping dough with both hands, gently push dough in circular motion to form taut ball. Repeat with second piece. Brush each lightly with oil, cover with plastic wrap, and let rest 10 minutes.
Coat fingers and palms of hands generously with oil, hold dough aloft and gently stretch to 10-inch length. Set the dough on to a floured counter and gently dimple surface of dough with fingertips. Using oiled palms, push and flatten dough into the shape of your pizza pan. Powder a pizza pan with corn meal and place the flattened dough on to it. Roll edge to create a lip to hold the toppings on.
Add what ever toppings you want and cook on a baking stone in a 500 degree oven until the crust is starting to brown; slide the crust off of the pan so it’s sitting directly on the stone; and bake until it’s golden brown on the edges and bottom.
This method may be used for most pizzas. It is a crispy, fairly thin crust.
It is an excellent pizza dough recipe. Now that grilling season is upon us, we can get back to grilled pizza. You can make it fairly easily. Make the dough and bake the crust until it starts to hold together on its own (five to ten minutes). Slather some vegetable or peanut oil on a hot side of a grill that has another side that doesn’t have any heat under it. Throw the crust, top side done on the hot part for five or ten (or so) seconds and let it get toasted and then move it over to the cool side to cool off; and turn it 45 to 90 degrees and put it on the hot side to toast some more. When you have good grill marks on the top, take it off of the grill and sauce it and put the toppings on it. Put it back on the cool side of the grill and place the cover on the grill. Cook until the toppings are done (cheese melted, sausage or other toppings completely cooked) and toast the crust again on the hot side – moving it on and off as needed so it doesn’t burn. It’s good eating!

A Sense of Humor

She was only a moonshiner's daughter, but, oh he loved her still.

No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.

I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.

The short fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.

I know - they are all as old as the hills and bad puns - but they all tickled me when I read them again this week.

It got me to thinking, what's happened to my sense of humor? I used to seek out jokes and actively memorize them. The last time that happened escapes me. It seems that as we age, our sense of humor doesn't so much change as we tend to stop memorizing jokes (that description fits me at least).

It seem that lately, I watch Comedy Central and laugh at many different kinds of jokes - the wild antics of "South Park", the low humor of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour", and the political commentary of John Stewart and Stephen Colbert.

I haven't found any situation comedies that I find all that funny. Certainly none that re-create the mix of drama and comedy of a "M*A*S*H" or "Barney Miller". The comedies that are out there now just seem dumb. I know that there are successful programs, but I just can't find any that consistently have a mix of pathos and comedy that I like.

Cest la vie.

How to Build a Recipe

I haven't written very many original recipes. Actually only two or three that I can think of. I actually like writing recipes though, so I going to do more of them.

The first thing you need is a premise. The first recipe that I wrote was for Barbequing spareribs. I wanted to enter the ribs into a "burn-off" like the one they have annually in Cleveland OH.

So I started researching the dish. I looked in several cook books and watched some PBS cooking shows. When the process was understood, I started looking for ways it could be customized to make my process original or at least identifiably my own, the way that would make the ribs mine.

I read about the "secret ingredients" - swamp water, rendered pork fat, combinations of spices and herbs, etc. I decided against using any of these in favor of straight forward flavors - clean and simple.

Finally, I wrote up the recipe and made my first batch. It was very well received, but I immediately started tweaking the ingredients.

I heard about other methods to achieve even better flavor, or optimum tenderness, so I went into the experimentation phase. I finally hit upon the combination that made my ribs good, and distinctively mine.

I have given out my rib recipe to quite a few people, and they say that they've done pretty well with it. Most people just say that it looks like a lot of work. Maybe it is, but I think the results are worth it.

I'm sorry that I haven't entered it into any contest, but that seems to be the really hard part. Where are the qualifiying contests and how does one enter them? This is what I need to find out.

I'm working on a new rib recipe to lower the sodium level in the ribs - Hypertension isn't any fun at all. Back to the experiments - I'll let you know when its' done.

Militant Vegans

In a disturbing trend, militant vegetarianism has become mainstream.

There was a story about a firehouse in Austin Texas that has become "vegan". The premise was that the shift lieutenant's father, a doctor, had written a book about how he feels that meat is bad for humans to consume. He had convinced his family of this and his son had convinced his com padres in the firehouse.

This doctor was convinced that he should attempt to get meat outlawed in the same manner as cigarettes and smoking. Not illegal, but ostracised. The doctor figured that this was possible with in three or four years. I think that that premise is fatally flawed - but that's his opinion.

What bothers me is that this is not the first militant vegan story that I've heard; and it hinges on so-called "Animal Rights". Animals don't have rights. Animals have protections that are afforded them by legislatures that have seen fit to criminalize animal cruelty.

If you don't think that animals should be harvested (I know that means killed, skinned, and dismembered) for leather or fur or meat, so be it. I don't agree with you, but you have a right to your opinion - as long as you allow me mine.