Baking Beans and Lemon Tart

As I was gleefully rolling out my pie dough this evening for my second lemon tart of the week (Christmas parties and VERY LARGE LEMONS will do that to you), I imagined that I would write about how baking beans are unnecessary because we are Old School and know to poke holes in our pie dough with a fork so that it won't puff up and the air can escape.

HA!




Fail. It turns out that worked just fine on Tuesday, when my dough was fresh and I was too lazy to refrigerate it before rolling it out. On Thursday, after sitting in the refrigerator for a couple of days it matured to full FLAKY WONDROUSNESS, and simultaneously puffed up, scoffing at my little fork-pricks.  It wouldn't be such a problem except that the depth of the pie crust is crucial, and it's crucial that the crust be water-tight.  If the filling escapes from the crust it will run underneath it and burn black.  I've served tarts that way and there's nothing wrong with them--no one even seems to notice the burned part, but of course, it's not ideal.

I fashioned the crust to go well up above the s
ides of my tart dish so that when it
shrank/flaked/did it's thing in the oven
I'd have plenty of room for my filling.

Fail: what happened? the nice edges of my crust
shrank back towards the pan, leaving a mere
1/4 inch of depth for filling! Oh no!

I admit defeat. I shall, before I make another tart, get baking beans. They are not that expensive, after all.


Lemon tart may not sound particularly Christmasy to you (it's not a cookie and it has no peppermint), but trust me, it's just the ticket for a Christmas party.  Holiday parties are likely to be full of egg-nog-peppermint-pumpkin creations and things dipped and re-dipped in chocolate, so it's nice, every now and again, to get back to something simple, even a bit summery, like sugar and lemons.  The sun has not shown its face in South Bend in at least two weeks, and I felt that I needed to remember what the color yellow looked like.  Hence, lemon tart.  The trick to lemon tart is to get the proportions of sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest exactly right.  Too much sugar or too little juice and it will be overly sweet and rich; too much zest and it will be bitter; too little zest and it won't have any zip.

I had plans to make something other than lemon tart for one of these parties, but as it happens, the lemons I bought were HUGE.  I was so paranoid about not having enough and having to go back to the store (they were on sale anyway), that I bought seven.  A recipe (not this one) recommended eight lemons for a cup of juice.  When the boyfriend got 1/4 cup of lemon juice from half a lemon, I knew I was in trouble.  Also the recipe called for zest from 2-3 lemons.  But my lemons were huge.  I should have had a clue, but I didn't, and vigorously zested two large lemons.  And my tart was bitter.


The second time around I halved the amount and measured it--using 1tsp packed zest was just about perfect, zest from only one lemon.  Zest is one of those things that's hard to measure, as it's damp and slightly fluffy, two cooks may come up with a very different amount.

Final word to the wise:  you must use beaters for this recipe.  I got lazy the second time and just tried to whisk everything together, which actually could have worked, I suppose, if I had been vigorous enough.  I got little white egg-only scrambles in my tart.  It was easy to disguise them with powdered sugar, but still, it's not ideal.


LEMON TART

Pie dough for a 1-crust pie
3/4 c lemon juice (three large lemons)
1 tsp lemon zest, packed (one large lemon)
1/2 c sugar
4 TBSP heavy cream
4 eggs
3 egg yolks

PREHEAT the oven to 375 degrees. Roll out the pie dough and spread baking beans in the bottom of your tart dish.  Bake for 10-12 minutes. Remove the baking beans and bake until golden brown.

Meanwhile, combine the lemon juice, lemon zest, and sugar and beat until sugar is dissolved. Add the cream.  Beat the eggs and the egg yolks in one at a time.  Pour filling into prepared crust and bake for 15-20 minutes or until the filling is set.  Let cool and sprinkle with powdered sugar before serving. 

Of beans and flatulence.

 I'm quite proud to be a Texan, but I have to admit that sometimes I feel like I don't really cook like one.  I never make grits in fact I think I've only eaten them once in my life.  I can't make chili--which is to say that I can follow a recipe, but there's so much pressure to making AMAZING CHILI that I just never attempt it because to fail would be to fail as a Texan.  There is, however, one dish I do make that I love and is quite Texan, to the point of being practically trail-food.  It's not the sort of thing one would offer to guests, especially dainty females, but to me it's the last word in comfort food: beans and cornbread.

Before I continue, a word about flatulence:  I think beans get a bit of a bad rap where gas is concerned.  I've seen guests refuse bean dishes before, flatly declaring "That looks like gas city."  I remember it because it was the rudest I've ever seen anyone behave at table.  But I would like to speak in defense of beans:  I've been eating beans for the past day and a half and have not experienced an unusual amount of gas, and much less than I might have had after eating, say ice cream or cheese.  And who among you is never going to eat ice cream or cheese again?

I thought not.  If you want to eat in such as selective way that you never have gas, you'll need to take a lot out of your diet besides just beans, including foods with fiber, many fruits and vegetables, and fatty, fried things.  If nothing else, eat beans once or twice a month in solidarity with those parts of the world who are grateful to have anything to put in their mouths, and wouldn't dream of turning it down because of a little flatulence.

Ahem.  I'm off my soapbox.

The one thing I really dislike about beans is that I like to cook spontaneously, whenever I'm in the mood.  I know that's a luxury of my poverty and lack of employment, but since I have few luxuries I have to take what I can get.  Beans, however, will have none of it.  You'll need to start plenty early for this recipe because dried beans require soaking before cooking and then they have to cook for a good while unless you want crunchy beans (yuck). The good news, however, is that overnight soaking does not seem to produce the best beans.  This go-around I tried a different method, and my beans cooked up much better and faster.  Last time I made beans I cooked and cooked and cooked and cooked them and they just. wouldn't. get. done.

The cornbread recipe will have to wait for another day.  I'm not 100% satisfied with the one I have now, so you may as well try your luck with your favorite trusty cookbook.

TRAIL BEANS
1 lb dried beans
1/2 pound bacon
2 large onions, chopped
4oz can of jalapenos
1 teaspoon salt

SOAKING
Put your beans in a pot and add enough cold water to cover the beans by several inches.  Pick out any floaters.  Bring to a boil and boil for 2 minutes.  Let stand and soak for at least an hour.  Drain and set aside.

COOKING
Chop the bacon up and fry in the pot.  Once the bacon is cooked and the fat rendered, add the onions and saute in the bacon grease until soft.  Add the beans back to the pot along with enough water to cover the beans.  They will continue to expand as they cook, so add water as needed.  Add the salt and the can of jalapenos as well, undrained.

Cover and simmer for 45 minutes to an hour.  Bean cooking time varies greatly on the exact kind of bean, how old they are (impossible to tell), soaking methods, blah, blah, blah... basically just be prepared to cook for a long time and keep checking them.  An easy way to see if they are done is to pull a few out of the water on a spoon and blow on them.  If their skins split, they are done.  It's also kinda fun to watch the skins split.

Serve with pepper and salt on the table, and cornbread (of course).  I always make honey butter with my cornbread; just combine softened butter and honey until you have a proportion you like.  Mmm... If you chill the leftovers, you'll notice a nice bit of lard will harden on top.  If you think that's gross or would like to make your beans healthier, you can skim it off.  I, on the other hand, love the flavor and gobble it up.  I've seen people make this same recipe with a ham hock instead of bacon, or instead of so much bacon, and using oil to saute the onions as well.  So make the recipe your own!

Also, if anyone is in doubt about what to get me for Christmas, observe the photo below for a demonstration of the zero-gravity full-body massage chair:  the boyfriend reclines.  It's on sale, too:  $300 off for the bargain price of $2,999!

Actually, for that much, we can probably just drive to the mall...

With True Love and Brotherhood

Some battles in church music are not really worth fighting.  One is the Sunday morning seven o'clock music-free mass. It's a fixture of many Cathedrals and some parishes, hardly needing explanation--an early mass without any music, usually lasting about 30 to 40 minutes.  Parishioners who regularly attend it feel embarrassed when they meet the organist at some social function, and say things like, "It's just easier that way--I get church out of the way and can get to the farm."  Or,  "I like the solemn mass--it's easier to pray that way, without the music."  At which point I may wish to beat my head against the wall and mumble about solemnity and the function of music in the liturgy... but it is probably best to keep silent.  Some battles, as I said.  Who amongst us actually really wants to get up at at 5:30 in the morning?  Let it go.

Harder to let go for me this year was the 4:00 p.m. low Christmas mass.  Low, of course, not solemn, because of the lack of music.  The logic was that this mass was for grieving families who had lost loved ones in the last year and found the musical celebrations of Christmas oppressive.

Scrooge has come to represent those people in our midst who dislike Christmas, or at least how others of us celebrate it.  Most people I know who dislike Christmas dislike the materialism that surrounds it.  It is most obvious on a day like Black Friday, when human beings are trampled underfoot--literally--for possessions that will, after all, one day be dust and ashes.  Perhaps calling them Scrooge is not fair to them OR to Scrooge.  You have to admit they may have a point with this whole materialism quibble.

I think the real lesson here is harder, more elusive.  I think people are just as prone to materialism at Christmas as they are any other time of the year.  I think Christmas is made the scape-goat, and come December 26th (or perhaps the 27th), materialism sinks back into the fabric of our culture, out of the spotlight, but not out of our lives.  We all run the risk all year round of treating things as more important than people, or not understanding our priestly relationship to the material world.

This year, I was not shocked by materialism.  I had a good time doing some shopping of my own, despite the slimmest wallet in the history of ever (my bank account dipped down to 14 dollars at one point).  Instead I was shocked when a grieving woman told me she didn't want any music at mass on Christmas because Christmas would never be the same without her mother, who had passed away that year.  She wasn't going to put up her decorations, or buy gifts, or anything.

My mother is living and I cannot imagine life without her, so I could hardly say out loud what I thought inside, which was, "You of little faith!"  I've never had a Christmas vendetta--I don't have a bumper sticker that says "keep Christ in Christmas."  Forcing one's December celebration on others does not seem to exactly follow the command, "and with true love and brotherhood each other now embrace."  But I now have my own vendetta about Christmas (oh noes!).  It had never occurred to me that for many people Christmas is not about Jesus or about stuff--instead it's all about family.

It's an easy enough mistake to make.  The Christmas story is focused on families--the very odd and virginal Holy Family, the human family, the Christian family.  Domestic scenes dominate the tale--Mary at home, Mary with Elizabeth, Joseph with insomnia, innkeepers and stables.  If we're lucky, our own celebrations are rich family time as well--gathered about a tree, soon to be buried beneath wrapping paper torn to shreds, or stuffed with the fruits of the earth about a large table.  We might begin to think that all these very good things are what Christmas is all about--until death comes and shatters our illusion.

I'm not arguing that family is a bad thing.  What this parishioner experienced in mass on Christmas was exactly the problem with this attitude, however, that no matter how good family is, even as it reflects the love of God in the Trinity, the human family alone cannot answer the questions of life and death and eternity.  Christ did not come so that we could have family time.  Christ came that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.  

I know it's asking a lot.  I know that sorrow can be deep and wider than the sea.  I know that one must be braver then than at any other time, to sing through tears.  But there is no sorrow greater than Christ's triumph.  That is why we celebrate Christmas, why I celebrate it bravely, with feasting and gifts and decorations and music:  to give as Christ gave: abundantly.

Queen Advent

Does anybody know how to celebrate Advent, really? It's becoming increasingly popular in non-liturgical churches, but even amongst Catholics we don't really celebrate it. There's this long pre-Christmas season of shopping and decorating that leads anti-climatically to Christmas Day... and then we pull down our decorations the very next day, or, if we are lazy, on New Years.

As far as I know, there's not really a tradition of celebrating Advent in the home.  I would like to blame that on the fact that this country is predominantly still culturally a non-liturgical culture, but I don't know of any cultures that make much out of Advent. 

Perhaps that is the point.  Perhaps waiting is the thing. 

Unlike what manufacturers of chocolate Advent calendars would like you to believe, Advent actually begins four Sundays before December 25th, in this case, on December 2nd (you'll have to throw out your commercially bought Advent Calendar--manufacturers rarely know what they are doing).  I was dissatisfied with all Advent calendars I found, so I decided to just make one--one that actually uses Advent colors, which you can see in the picture below. Purple for the ordinary days of Advent, in two shades; white for the feasts such as Immaculate Conception on Dec. 8th; red for martyrs feasts (St. Lucy on December 13th), and pink for Gaudete Sunday. You can find all of these colors displayed calendar-style here.

 I used a Little Cotton Rabbits free pattern for these little booties, somewhat modified to make them shorter and smaller.  Where it directs to work eight rows, I only worked four.  Stocking number 16 was the first one I did, and I worked eight rows there.  You can see how it's not quite as cute!

So since I used all the different colors in different combinations, it's sort of hard to tell what liturgical color each sock is supposed to represent. The body of the sock, that is, the space between the heel and the toe, determines the liturgical color. So the third sock down on the left (marked "16") is pink for Gaudete Sunday.  The same with 13, the red one with lavender toe and heel, for St. Lucy.

As you can see, I'm a sock or two short. I wasn't sure how many I would need this year, and since Advent is rather short this year, I assumed this would be enough... not! 23 and 24 are forthcoming.

And now, in honor of Notre Dame's UNDEFEATED, #1 status, I give you a pattern for a Notre Dame mini-stocking.  It uses the same mini-socking pattern as the advent stockings above.

Spiced Balsamic Pot Roast

My crock pot has had a busy week--earning her keep, if I do say so myself! She churned out a large and well-received batch of apple cider for a party (too simple to review here, really: put apple juice and mulling spices in the crock pot and turn on low until the flavor permeates the juice and the smell permeates your home...) and she also tackled Pot Roast!

I know I said I wasn't going to tackle a pot roast recipe for a while with my crock pot, but it seemed the perfect thing to make this week when the BF was in long rehearsals and needed a hearty meal late at night.  I used this recipe for Balsamic and Onion Pot Roast.

I enjoyed making this a lot--you have to sear the outside of the roast, so you still get to have some fun in the kitchen, and then you leave it to simmer away unattended for hours, dreaming about what it will taste like when you get home.  I could hardly stand it--I rushed home to see how my roast was doing after the allotted six hours.

Well... all I can say is that it's not fair to my crock pot to keep inflicting such uninteresting and not-so-great recipes on it.  I was very disappointed with this recipe.  The sauce just came out sour--there was nothing very interesting about it, and the onions weren't as delicious as I hoped, either.  They just tasted like I had pickled them, and pickled onions are not very delicious.  Plus, my BF doesn't really like pickled things, so I had done all this work to feed him well and he wasn't going to even like it.



In this case I had a very clear expectation of what I thought this recipe was going to taste like.  So I decided to try to figure out what would actually make it taste like I wanted it to taste.  So I give you the first-ever original recipe on my blog: Spiced Balsamic Pot Roast.  This is what I dreamed my pot roast would be--complex and interesting with a twist.



Spiced Balsamic Pot Roast (adapted from A Cook's Quest)

Spiced Balsamic Pot Roast

3-4 lb. beef roast
3-5 large carrots
1 tsp seasoning salt
1 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp pepper
1-2 tbs olive oil
3 large onions
1/4 c water
1 c beef broth or stock, reduced
1/2 c balsamic vinegar
1/4 c molasses
1/4 c brown sugar
1/2 c tomato sauce
1/2 tsp ground cloves




1.  Heat the olive oil in a heavy pan. Rub the meat with garlic, pepper, and salt.  Brown roast in oil on all sides, about 1 minute per side.

2.  Peel the onions and cut into thick slices; line the bottom of your crock pot with them.

3.  Remove the meat and layer it in the crock pot on top of the onions.

4.  Deglaze the pan with the water.  Add remaining ingredients to make a sauce and pour over the roast and onions.

5.  Cook on low heat for 6-8 hours.  Serve and enjoy!

Other Crock Pot on Trial posts:

1. Mashed Potatoes

2. Pumpkin Spice Lattes

3. Balsamic Pot Roast

In other news, I don't expect this to happen to you, but I broke out in hives shortly after eating this dish.  I thought I was allergic to cinnamon.  The data that leads me to this conclusion is that my tongue swells up when I eat red-hots, and my whole body was itching after I ate a cinnamon roll yesterday at church. But my symptoms had died down and only flared up again today when I ate this, which has no cinnamon, only cloves. Unless there was cinnamon in my ground cloves... I guess I will just have to do a test to figure out if I'm allergic to cloves, or cinnamon, or both.  Yeah, food allergies are the pits.