Olla-Podrida: Andrew Brunner

Showing posts with label Andrew Brunner. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 26, 2020

Twin Peaks Pie, anyone?

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You have often heard me speak about the belly of the beast where chaos reigns. But when my number two son, his wife, and their two cats lived with me for six weeks awaiting the completion of their new home, it positively ran amok! Boxes were everywhere, as well as various pieces of furniture and decorative items they’d moved out of the guest room, and its associated closet, in order to give themselves more space. Additionally, it was the Christmas shopping season, so more boxes were arriving daily — many of them for my house guests — and they got added to the already obscenely big pile. They had boxes, I had boxes, and there were still boxes from my late mother, father, and husband, all in this area.

The other day, I was rummaging around, like I do, and ran across two unopened boxes with my son’s name on them. He couldn’t imagine what they might be, so when he came for his Friday visit with his old mom, he opened them. It was like Christmas! In fact, it was Christmas; there was a gift in there for me that he had completely forgotten he’d ordered. Here it is, my new Twin Peaks ceramic pie dish. Now to decide upon an appropriate pie!

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Benedictine Spread

Out of the blue, my youngest son said to me, “Mom, you're not a girly girl.”

I was crushed! I mean, I thought I was girly. I cook. I stitch. I try to knit. I do girl stuff. I looked at him, shoulders raised, palms up, and said, “What do I look like, Andrew, someone who could change a truck tire?”

"”Yeah, mom,” he said, “I really think you could.” It was a compliment.

When you've raised two boys, battled three bouts of cancer, spent a lot of time on your own, and even more time as a round-the-clock caregiver, you become pretty tough out of necessity. But still, I thought I was girly.

Where am I going with this you ask? Back to my early, girly-girl days when I had a pink room with pink and white furniture, lace curtains, ruffled dresses, and loved attending wedding showers that my mother seemed to host with great frequency. I loved the packages and ribbons and ladies, the blushing bride, glasses of punch, and fancy little sandwiches. A shower was not a shower without ribbon sandwiches. Remember those? A loaf of bread with crusts removed, sliced into three sections, slathered with two different fillings, put back together again, iced with a third filling, and then sliced? Those fascinated me, and were my first experience with Benedictine Spread, that often made up one of the layers or the frosting on the outside. It tasted fresh and delicate, and I felt like such a girly girl!

Showers haven't been the same in decades, but I still think of Benedictine Spread every time spring comes and wedding season begins. This recipe is one of my own, based upon years of tasting and experimentation. It is very forgiving, so add or subtract anything you like. It works well in ribbon sandwiches, individual tea sandwiches, piped into black olives, or onto slices of cucumber. It just tastes like spring!

Benedictine Spread

2 small Melissa’s mini cucumbers*

3 scallions (with tops)

1 garlic clove, roughly diced

8 ounces Philadelphia cream cheese, room temperature

1 Tablespoon Duke's mayonnaise

1 teaspoon dried dill weed

Dash of Crystal hot pepper sauce

1/2 teaspoon salt

Dense white sandwich bread

Cut cucumbers and scallions into quarters and place in a food processor. Add diced garlic and puree until combined thoroughly.

Place the puree in a fine mesh sieve to drain off excess liquid, pressing against it with a rubber spatula to facilitate draining.

Place the cucumber mixture back in the food processor and add the remaining ingredients, and puree until combined. Spread onto crustless slices of bread to make tea sandwiches, or pipe onto slices of cucumber. Serve immediately.

*If you don’t use Melissa’s that, with their thin skin, do not require peeling, use one medium cucumber (that you will need to peel) and remove seeds by cutting the peeled cucumber in half and scraping out the seeds with a spoon or the small side of a melon baller.

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This post is linked to:
Five Star Frou-Frou,

Simple and Sweet Fridays

Foodie Friday & Everything Else

Weekend Potluck

Bouquet of Talent Saturday

Monday, November 2, 2015

Bacon Peanut Brittle

Years ago, my mother was the peanut brittle maker in the family. Every November, she would line the counter with marble slabs, get out her cook pot and go to town. I used to love the smell of the house when it was cooking. If the onset of the holiday season has a fragrance, this is it.

As my mother got older and less able to manage big batches of peanut brittle, my younger son decided to take over the reins. When he was in high school, he thought it would be a smashing idea to make batch after batch of peanut brittle to give as holiday gifts to his hoard of friends and favorite teachers. Recipe in hand (and after an intense quizzing of my mother), he laid the marble slabs out on our counter and set to work.

Everything went swimmingly until it was time to spread the brittle. Mother had told us to wear rubber gloves and then carefully spread it out (and I only wish I could show you the hilarious pinching hand movements that she used to illustrate) the hot brittle and leave it to dry. I poured the 260-degree ~~molten lava~~ brittle-in-waiting onto the slabs and we stuck our gloved hands right in. This literally brought us to our knees. Andrew collapsed to the floor saying, “I can't do this. Ahhhhhhh!” While I caught myself as my knees buckled, spun to the left, and plunged my hands into a pan of lukewarm water that was setting in the sink.

The brittle hardened and was delicious, but neither one of us could imagine how my mother managed to spread, by mere gloved hands, this boiling mass. We took her a sample the following day that met with her approval, and asked how she managed to deal with the heat. It was hot, she agreed with us, but after you let it set for a minute or so, it becomes less so, and easy to spread. What?! That minute, that crucial minute, had been left out of the instructions. She just assumed that, between the two of us, we were smart enough to not plunge our hands into boiling liquid. Apparently not.

Andrew has now perfected the method, come up with recipes of his own (with an eye toward a cookbook), and ditched the marble slabs for a rimmed cookie sheet. A lover of anything with bacon, he recently tried this recipe recently published in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. He had this to say, “I thought it was a great combination of sweet and spicy. The bacon offers a light smoky flavor without being too overpowering. I am a big fan of the brittles using Spanish peanuts, but this one called for roasted. It makes the process a lot shorter, but I still prefer the overall flavor of the Spanish peanuts. I'll make it again, with my own spin, adding a seasonal beer (as he is wont to do).” Personally, I loved it, not just for the hint of smokiness, but for the ancho chili kick.

Bacon Peanut Brittle

2 tablespoons butter, divided

2 cups granulated sugar

1 cup light corn syrup

1 tablespoon ancho chili powder

Pinch cayenne pepper

1 cup salted, roasted peanuts

2 cups cooked, crumbled apple wood-smoked bacon (see note)

1 teaspoon baking soda

Note: The trick is to buy thick, meaty apple wood-smoked bacon, then dice it and cook the bacon slowly until the fat is fully rendered and the meat is a reddish mahogany. Press the bacon pieces between paper towels to make sure all the excess fat is absorbed. If you don’t do this, the candy will have a cloudy appearance.

Use about ½ tablespoon of the butter to coat a rimmed baking sheet.

In a large, heavy saucepan over medium-high, combine the sugar and corn syrup. Stir until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is bubbly and slightly thick, 3 to 4 minutes. Add the ancho chili powder and cayenne, and then cook for 2 to 3 minutes. The sugar mixture should now be at the hard ball stage, or 255º to 260ºF.

Stir in the remaining butter, as well as the peanuts and bacon. Continue cooking until the mixture is golden brown and reaches 300º to 305ºF degrees. Stir well, then add the baking soda and stir again. Immediately pour onto the prepared baking sheet and use a silicone spatula to spread evenly. Set aside to cool, about 30 minutes.

Once the brittle is cool, break into pieces by hitting the bottom of the sheet pan on the counter. Store in an airtight container at room temperature or in the freezer for up to 1 month.

Yield: About 1 pound

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