Weekend Cook: Crepeaus (boiled maple dumplings)

This is a crepeau; Dan thinks the name comes from the local patois for "toad", referring to the shape.  It is a traditional Quebecois springtime dessert/breakfast/sugarhouse item.

He asked me to make them for him, and it took me three days of figuring out how to do it without contaminating the house with wheat flour.  Then I remembered this:

All set to go, even levened already.  All that's remaining is a Hail Mary, since I only had enough mix to make one test batch of dumplings.

One cup of mix and 2 TB of cold butter in the processor.  Pulse, pulse.

Butter incorporated and ready for the wet ingredients.

1/2 cup of half and half, whisked together with one large egg from the farm - note how orange the yolk is!

Mix together, and let set at least 5 minutes for the flour to absorb the liquid and for the baking powder in the mix to activate.

I used a one-tablespoon scoop to form the dumplings.  Dipping it in water helps to keep each dumpling from from sticking to the metal. 

As you can see, air pockets have formed in the batter.

Yes, yes, "the best stuff on earth" - backyard maple syrup made in micro-batches.  Two cups of syrup and one cup of water are brought to a boil on the stove.

I used a 2-quart sauce-pot, but the dumplings were crowded, next time I'll use a low pan, and perhaps more syrup so they don't meld into one another.

Into the boiling syrup, drop the scoops of raw floating dumplings (all of them).  Cover the pot and turn the heat to a low simmer.

About 15 minutes later, the dumplings are cooked through and the liquid thickened like some sort of really rustic custard.  That's the best I can describe it. Test one to see if they are fluffy on the inside.

No finesse, just good eats.

It's too sweet for me.  I had to cut it with whipped cream.  The dark syrup had a cinnamon(y) flavor that went well with the dumpling.

Dan said that they were close to the original, but he recalls the dumplings should be more rubbery and simmered like a poached egg, not "scone(y)".   He also put in a request for scrambled eggs poached in syrup, if I was going to keep working on the recipe because "that's what we had, growing up".

Burlington Farmers' Market: The Space Assignment Meeting

Once a year, the market holds a meeting to list open vending spaces left by exiting members, sabbatical members, and vendors who failed to send in their annual paperwork.  Those spaces are "put on the block" for other vendors attending the meeting to purchase, expanding real estate or moving their position in the park. (This all happens in order of seniority spent vending at the market.)

This was the quickest meeting ever, so afterward the steering committee (I'm secretary) met to consider the applications for new members.  Next season at market?   Confirmation pending,  we can look forward to hot and barbecue sauces, prepared Jamaican food, and a gluten-free baker (yay) listing French macarons among their products.  It's gonna be a great year.

Blog changes in progress...patience, please:)

Life on the farm 032910: Leave on a high note

This past weekend, after our monthly meat delivery to Burlington, we went to Leunig’s Bistro for lunch.

Leunig’s can be hit or miss, not because of the food or the service (except that time we roll our eyes about), but where you get seated.  Every patron wants a table window-side; we are no exception.

My husband Dan and I wound up center aisle at the back of the resto, where patron’s elbows are a foot away from eachother - no matter - we high-fived our lucky-duckiness about having been seated right away.

I’m a fan of Leunig’s gluten-free menu, and willing to put up with minor inconvenience to be friggin-happy faced, reeking of roasted garlic and dribbling onglet au jus.

They were slammed. We adjusted our expectations and prepared to enjoy fancy eating off-farm no matter how long it took.

Despite our optimism, other patrons did not allow us to completely immerse ourselves in the experience. 

Unappreciative Thinny.    Emo Girl and Doornock Daddy were having a compulsory custody weekend.  She sulked and texted head-down, briefly poking at her salad - delivered on time – I might add, at a better table than we had garnered.  Neither spoke.  They could have been equally disinterested in a joyless corner.

Patois Ah-Chooer!  A Quebecois group of four sat to our left. Suddenly, the man seated closest to Dan let out a ferocious sneeze, considerately away from his friends, but angled at me. I absorbed and inhaled strains of virus that will, at the very least, cost me a week’s income in downtime. 

(I had no faith that after-the-fact handwashing, or the Purell in my purse were going to do me any good with this one.) 

Turds In The Punchbowl.   Mr. Nasty Experience and his GF sat down on my right. He never got over the fact that they were placed in two-star seats.

The runners brought the prickly pair’s order to the wrong cover (ours), but reversed gears before it hit the tablecloth. He complained the entire meal about that fact, didn’t touch his food, and expected $$ to be taken off the bill.

To recap: they arrived after us, ordered after us, and received their meals before us. 

Were we pissed?  Hell, No! 

“Waiter!”  “Another potato-vodka blue-cheese-stuffed-olive martini, please!”

Oh, Baby!  Servers quickly turned Mr. Nasty’s 2-top into a 4 and dragged a high chair over. 

Granted, Martini #2 was a rousing success, but I have one cardinal rule: never be seated next to an infant.  That’s one thing that can’t be resolved by even the finest, designer medication – if I even had a scrip, that is.

We exited just as the little pooper was slid into place, whilst toys and Cheerios were spread out before it with lightning speed.

There was every chance that the party would have food in front of them before Junior popped a meltdown, but that’s one inevitability that I was not waiting around to witness. 

We chugged our drinks and left on a high note.

My Little Pony: 126 pounds later

(Note that her left front foot has quite a knuckly bumpy thing still going on.)

Unlike many neglected ponies that are rescued all skinny, ours was 300 pounds overweight.  From her walks and diet she has shed 126 pounds since last November!  She adores Dan and whinnies when she sees him.  It's a reversal of her attitude toward men on arrival, when she bit him whenever she got the chance.  She snorts when she sees me.  I'm not sure how to take that.

We may put her on a lunge soon; it's getting to be quite a workout for us to take her out, since she can go so much farther now and energetically "pep steps" on the lead for the first ten minutes; she is barely halter-broke and will test anyone who attempts to make her stop or start on cue - at least until she is tired out.

Yardwork

We had some yard maintenance to do last Saturday - well, we've had it on the "to do" list for about five years, but there you go.  It got done.  Mostly.

Watersprouts and overhanging branches all must go.

There's a bit more to do, but it was too cold to finish - in spite of being sunny.

That's enough for one day.

Monday Menu: St. Louis ribs in the oven

One rack of ribs, two flavors: one red hot and spicy, the other dark and barbecue(y).

(Notice, I remembered to put foil on the pan this time to ease clean-up duties)

Oven at 250f, the ribs were coated in mustard (to help the dry spices adhere) and sprinkled with the house rub of paprika, onion and garlic powder, and black pepper.

This sauce is really balanced - not too sweet - and the heat quickly dissipates after each bite.

At the five-hour mark, I coated one section in the above sauce, the other with K C Masterpiece.

I turned and coated them again after 15 minutes, and repeated the step one more time. Sticky! Delish! Sorry, no plated photos - by the time I realized I hadn't taken any, there was only a pile of bones left.

Blog changes...patience, please:)

(LED solar butterfly)

I'm giving my blog look an update, so it will look odd for a few days or so.