Even though we post a LOT of photography of everything from bugs to bakeware to bunnies, we’re not immune to the lure of the birthday date photo.
Even though we don’t usually post them anywhere, they’re still cherished memory triggers of happy times.
On occasion, we’ll even take the oh-so-cliche photo of what we’re eating or drinking when dining in public so we will remember the glow of the moment in a decade or two.
Truth be told, I’m happy to comply with Rick’s frequent requests to take my photo when I a) am freshly showered and tidied up, b) am in low light and shot from above, and c) have time to strategically pose my hands where my neck is most comfortable.
“Hey! You look wonderful to me right now. Let me take your picture.”
It’s another way to say “I love you.”
But I especially love the photos, often shot without the other one knowing, that explain why.
Being specific and expressive about what, exactly, draws you to another has been scientifically proven to cause people to fall in love with one another.
Rick woke up this morning with a hankering for corn muffins (Cook’s Illustrated recipes—free!—below) and a first-ever desire to bake them himself.
Rick, it turns out, is an excellent baker with an inborn understanding that the techniques and tools involved are just as important to producing fine results as are high quality ingredients and a tried-and-true recipe.
A dig through the baking cupboard revealed we only had 11 of the foil/paper combination type that I had actually bought by accident, and even then we only had six of the papers that nest inside the foil liners.
While this was Rick’s first muffin rodeo, I have been on the circuit for decades.
Out of a desire to both have my muffins and eat them too, I have always used the paper muffin tin liners so the darned things release in one piece and I don’t spend more time washing up than I did eating. However, Cook’s prep instructions specifically state: “Grease a standard muffin tin and set aside.”
What… no liners? I went to Cook’s online video on the subject which explained that they don’t like having to pick the paper off the muffins, and that the “lovely brown crust” stays on the paper and not in their mouths, which is where they apparently prefer it.
My experience has been that without the papers, the “lovely brown crust” often clings to the tin with a tenacity that takes several hours of soaking to discourage.
What to do?! Go with decades of my own muffin experience or decades of America’s Test Kitchen muffin experience?
We decided on an “all of the above” approach, using six foil/paper combos, five straight foil cups, and one unlined hole as our “grease it and see what happens” experiment. (In one of their super-helpful sidebars in the cookbook, Cook’s recommends putting the muffin tin inside the dishwasher to apply cooking spray. Any overspray—and there WILL be overspray, which is why we rarely use it—will be washed away the next time you run the beast.)
As you can see above, both the “foil only” (right) and greased samples retained their delicious brown loveliness right where we wanted it. Cook’s was right about the paper, though: removing the paper also denuded the muffins of the crust.
Eureka! Going forward, our muffins will be hatched using the foil liners on their own. Winston, the paper-lovin’ poodle, will be given the paper portions to keep him amused and out of the kitchen while Rick is baking.
Enough with the camera already… time for breakfast!
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder (check the date: if older than a year, buy new stuff)
1 teaspoon baking soda (ditto above)
1/2 teaspoon table salt
2 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar (5 1/4 ounces)
8 tablespoons unsalted butter (1 stick), melted
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup milk
INSTRUCTIONS
1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 400 degrees. Spray standard muffin tin with nonstick cooking spray (see dishwasher tip above).
2. Whisk dry ingredients in medium bowl to combine; set aside.
3. Whisk eggs in second medium bowl until well combined and light-colored, about 20 seconds. Add sugar to eggs; whisk vigorously until thick and homogenous, about 30 seconds; add melted butter in 3 additions, whisking to combine after each addition. Add half the sour cream and half the milk and whisk to combine; whisk in remaining sour cream and milk until combined.
4. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients; mix gently with rubber spatula until batter is just combined and evenly moistened. Do not over-mix.
5. Using an ice cream scoop or large spoon, divide batter evenly among muffin cups, dropping it to form mound. Do not level or flatten surface of mounds.
6. Bake until muffins are light golden brown and skewer inserted into center of muffins comes out clean, about 18 minutes, rotating muffin tin from front to back halfway through baking time. Cool muffins in tin 5 minutes; invert muffins onto wire rack, stand muffins upright, cool 5 minutes longer, take a bajillion photos, but remember to stop in time to serve these puppies while they’re still warm, preferably with fresh hot coffee, aged cheddar cheese, and a perfect Pink Lady apple.
It was purely for medicinal purposes, you understand, to take the chill off.
Last weekend the four of us (three usual suspects plus Rick’s dad, Stu) were out for a nippy walk in a wind that was so brisk, it was blowing some people’s ears into a furry froth around their head.
Others in our party had neglected to fully reel in the concept of “yes, it’s really winter” before setting out and had grabbed the nearest lid at hand, a leather rancher’s hat. His ears, lacking any substantial degree of fur, quickly registered a solid seven on the ouch-o-meter.
However, with a mid-walk donation of a micro-fibre fleece scarf, we improvised…
… and with a little help from his friends, Rick winterized his giddy up.
The trick is a firm hand with the turban knotting at the back. The fringe of beautiful curly silver hair was an unexpected bonus, although later on he had an interesting case of hat hair.
By the time we headed homewards,the wind was at our back (good), the sun was down (bad), and it got darn chilly, dang quick.
What a treat to step back into a cozy home with a beautifully lit Christmas tree, work on a Christmas-themed [easyazon-link asin=”B003CYKYFW” locale=”us”]1000 Piece Jigsaw Puzzle[/easyazon-link], (half done at that point), and the snap and crackle of a glowing wood stove.
If there ever was a time to bust out some perfect Irish coffee mugs and fill ’em up, it was then.
We didn’t let the fact that we don’t have Irish coffee mugs stop us. We’re “make do” kind of folk around here (see “winterized giddy up” above).
It turns out that [easyazon-link asin=”B0000B1Y4F” locale=”us”]exquisite Waterford crystal goblets[/easyazon-link], in this case having been handed down from one generation to another, work even better.
Beautiful crystal + hot, robust coffee + smooth Irish whiskey + a little brown sugar + and cool and creamy fresh whipped cream after a brisk late afternoon winter walk = one glorious seasonal happy bomb.
Merry Christmas!
Irish Coffee
4 ounces freshly brewed coffee
1 1/2 ounces Irish whiskey (we used Jameson’s, naturally)
1 teaspoon brown sugar
Dollop of freshly whipped cream
This is not a review of books about book reviews. (Ouch.)
This is a review of BookBooks, a line of iPhone, iPad, iMac, and MacBook covers manufactured by TwelveSouth, a fanatically Apple-devoted accessory company.
Between the two of us, Rick and i currently own six BookBook cases: two iPhone 4S’, an iPhone 5S, an iPad mini, an iPad 4, and a MacBook Air. I don’t own one for my MacBook Pro, mostly because I don’t move it from my desk much, and when I do, it’s in a padded briefcase. (Rick’s iPhone 4 case didn’t make it to the photo shoot on time to be included, but it’s just like mine on the top of the stack except it’s black.)
So, what’s the appeal?
First, there’s something richly tactile, nostalgic, and enjoyably aromatic about leather-bound books, unless you’re a cow, in which case you’re probably not such a big fan.
And BookBooks actually look, smell, and feel like our library of leather-bound books, which is not only cool when you’re actually reading something on your Kindle app, but it’s also a theft deterrent. How many opportunistic petty thieves do you know who want to pull a snatch-and-run for a copy of Crime and Punishment when you can get the Kindle edition for 99¢?
But the thing that sold me originally on the BookBook for my iPhone 4S is that it’s not just a case: it’s a wallet.
This is my new iPhone 5s BookBook. I love how it’s not just a great protective case for my phone. It’s also a beautifully crafted leather wallet with room for my driver’s license, a couple of credit cards, my health insurance card, and space behind it all for some folding money. Heading out the door for a quick errand? Just grab your KeyKeys, your BookBook, and GoGo!
It’s a great convenience to find in something so functional that simultaneously doesn’t look like an iPhone OR a wallet! It really does look like a little well-worn leather pocket book, which, since I have my Kindle library on my phone as well, it technically is.
It has broken in beautifully, just like a favorite pair of gloves.
It’s well designed so the phone fits snugly in the holder while still giving you easy access to all the fiddly bits and buttons.
There you stand in the Louvre, “book” open, looking for all the world like a European philosophy major reading deep and important things about the Mona Lisa, when in fact you have the sound turned off and are unobtrusively snapping photos of the dear lady with no nasty guard scurrying over to tut-tut you away.
Not me, of course. But other people might do that kind of thing.
The other BookBook cases are equally as well made and thoughtfully engineered. Rick loves his MacBook Air BookBook. It’s like a sturdy yet lightweight zippered leather binder for all his creative brilliance, plus it looks better lying around on a coffee table than the computer itself. (Don’t tell Apple I said that.)
The BookBooks for iPad cases are equally functional, beautiful, and deceptive.
Last week, I was reading in a restaurant and had a friend come up to say “hi.” When I put my iPad Mini BookBook down on the table with the case open, face up, she exclaimed, “Oh! That is so cool! From across the room, I thought you were reading a hand-written journal. Even the zipper tabs look like those old-fashioned ribbon book marks.”
Going forward, all new books that come into our house via our Kindle app will be leather bound. And who wouldn’t enjoy a leather-bound copy of “Green Eggs and Ham?”
It’s well known by now that we at r’n’k.com are Big Fans of the list of recommendations found in the back of Cook’s Illustrated The Science of Good Cooking.
(The other “Illustrators” books on the right are part of Rick’s art book collection. Didn’t plan it that way: the Cook’s volumes just fit better on that shelf than on our other THREE full shelves of cookbooks.)
What can we say?
We love learning to cook new dishes, and we love high-quality tools to do it with.
The thing is, not every gadget one comes across in kitchen stores is essential. In fact, you can easily–and quickly–fill a kitchen to overflowing with culinary chotchkies. If you want to separate an egg, you don’t need a gadget. You just need to learn how to separate an egg.
However, some tools ARE necessary, and Cook’s does a great job of sifting the real wheat from the chapstick. Thus we pick up here from where we left off, “Kitchen Gadgets and Handy Tools, Part One.”
I will admit to being a little confused by Cook’s “best colander” recommendation. Know what I think when I read that? I chuckle at the ludicrousness of marketing a simple–albeit best-of-breed–kitchen colander as being both “precise” and “pierced.”
First of all, what’s so precise about it? I’ve never seen a colander that has industrial-grade measurement markings, nor have I ever thought I needed one. And if it actually held up to 5.5 quarts, or only 4.5 for that matter, who cares? We run a laissez-faire kinda kitchen around here.
Secondly, isn’t a colander supposed to be pierced?! How is that a marketable feature, worthy of being included in the nomenclature?! Without the piercings, you’d just have a really expensive metal bowl.
If the marketeers of said undoubtably fabulous colander had paid attention in school, they would have known and embraced the “when needed for clarity, hyphenate a compound adjective before the noun” rule.
This would have allowed me to focus instead on the stability provided by the metal ring on the bottom and the many small, precise piercings (aka “holes”) that allow for quick draining without losing your linguini down the sink.
Firm hugs and kisses from your salad spinner? Okay, I’m outta here.
And I’m happy to say that we got to the end of this “handy kitchen gadgets” list without mentioning “best” egg separators, popcorn machines, or panini makers.
Me: What’s the most useless kitchen gadget you know that people actually buy?
Rick: Panini maker.
Me: Haha. Yes. Egg separator, panini maker… I need one more. What else?
Rick: I dunno. Just a minute… Where’s that Chef’s catalogue that came in the mail today? It’ll be full of them… Oh wait… I just found something we actually do need.
Lily, the Head Beautician on the mobile beauty circuit, likes to make An Entry on her Saturday afternoon rounds.
What’s the beauty business without a little sizzle, a chauffeur (Steve), and a red carpet bucket of oats?
To these Black Clydesdales, the throttle of Steve’s ATV is like the bells of the Good Humour man to a sugar-starved six-year old.
They want It.
They want the new beauty “It,” and they want it bad.
They may not be entirely sure what “It” is, but whatever It is, Lily always has It, and she rounds ’em up and heads ’em in towards It.
(Scoop!) Lily has recently declared that Everyone who is Anyone is all about accessorized bangs.
“Don’t mention this,” the big one with the white face confided later, “but I like how Lily’s new Stickerettes keep my hair out of my eyes: it allows my admirers to soak in the beauty of my enhanced eyelashes. They’re natural, you know. Last season, Lily was all about enhanced natural beauty, but now it’s Stickerettes, 24/7. That’s the fickle nature of the beauty business, I suppose. Hems go up, hems go down, hems go out and shake it all around.”
(Black Clydesdales are very poetic.)
“Excuse me. Just a moment here. Are you a reporter? May I have a word with the reporter, ALONE, please?”
“This whole Stickerettes business was so NOT Lily’s idea. I spend one week in a Jamaican all-inclusive, come home all tall and tanned and big and lovely with one simple string of sticker beads in my mane as a memento of my trip, and the whole stinkin’ Valley goes Lady GaGa over hair accessories!”
“Look. I still have the trend-starting evidence.
Sheesh. Lily is such an opportunistic idea thief. Of course, anyone who can afford a chauffeur is naturally all over The Big Business Plan that venture capitalists just jump on.
Bitch.”
“Hey! What you fail to appreciate, girlfriend, is the whole dreadlock/country shabby chic spin on the trend that Lily brought to the scene.
Come on… give creative credit where creative credit is due.”
“Did I get them in right? I can never make my hair look the way it does at the salon.”
“Clydesdales.
Bless their hearts.
They’re such simple, simple things, artistically speaking.”
“Still… they aren’t shy about buying a little something for themselves now and then.
Bless their hearts.
Did I mention I have a chauffeur?”
“Cough, cough.”
“Pssst. Yes. Over here.”
See my status-busting set of bang sticker beads? Wanna know a secret?
Lily doesn’t have the sticker bead market cornered. I have my very own manufacturing plant that I’ve been fertilizing for months now, ever since Sistah Rastah came back from her vacation with her Big Bang fashion news.
I even have my own clientele I’m grooming in the fashion bidness.
That noisy punk across the street with the poodle perm? He’s already a complete sticker bead junky. He refuses to be seen in public without at least some sticker junk in his trunk.
Ha! I’m a cross-species biz whiz. Lily’s gonna get her knickers in a twist when she realizes I’ve poodle punked her.
The Christmas Mathias was 13 (now 28), when asked what he would like with his name on it under the tree, he said he wanted either a cat, a gadget, or a laptop.
That Christmas he became the proud Chief of Staff of a laptop cat named “Gadget.”
However, other than her daily habit of rubbing those glossy saucy haunches up against every surface at kitty level in a blatant ownership move (“See this bakeware cabinet? Mine. That fridge? Mine.”), this particular Gadget hasn’t proved to be notably handy in the kitchen.
So, in addition to sharing her sweet mug with you, we thought another Cook’s Illustrated “best of” list from their fabulous book, The Science of Good Cooking might be more helpful for those starting to think of their own Christmas lists, or for anyone who may have recently punctuated a vigorous opinion by accidentally shattering their favorite wooden spoon on the tiled counter for emphasis.
Whoops! (Not me, obviously. At least, not recently.)
Tongs: the go-to gadget for bacon lovers everywhere. The key factors? Scalloped-edged slightly concave pincers, be able to open and close easily, be long enough to keep delicate fingies out of hot oily spots, and lock closed for convenient storage.
After reading the Cook’s write up—who knew there was so much to say about a wooden spoon?—and the glowing reviews on Amazon about how stain resistant, comfortable (apparently a squared-off handle is WAY more comfie in your hand than Grandma’s traditional round one) sturdy, smooth, and well-designed this puppy is, I realized how shockingly ill equipped our kitchen is in the wooden spoon department.
Okay, so here’s a new spin on a time-honored kitchen must-have for those hearty souls still left in the pie game. Gone are the days of the pedestrian pin, says Cook’s Illustrated. Any dough boy worth his weight in his Emile Henry pie dish now uses a rolling “dowel.”
Essentially, a dowel is a pin without the handles. In truth, I’m not sure exactly what advantage this buys you in the pie-making department, but as the owner of one of said maple dowels, I can tell you that it works beautifully on delicate dough, especially when combined with a lightly-floured Roul’pat Countertop Roll Mat.
Bonus usage of a rolling dowel? it’s a comfort to have on hand in my “What happens if a burglar breaks in when Rick’s not home?” fantasy. I’ll just keep it under the bed, and at the first inkling of a midnight intruder, I’ll hand it to Winston, who will relentlessly pester the poor bastard to play fetch until he runs screaming down the driveway into the night, never to be seen again.
You just have to love a “best of” kitchen gadget described as “machine washable,” “form-fitting and not overly bulky for easy maneuvering,” “flexible,” and “heat-resistant.”
Oh, my! I’d give my best wooden spoon for lingerie that lived up to such claims.
And at a list price of roughly $45 PER MITT, (actual price around $30), it seems that the “black box” pricing rationale between the two markets is remarkably similar.
However, Cook’s Illustrated may have recognized that for most of us, this price point spikes the needle, so they have graciously offered a “best buy” option at under $15:
You must believe me that I didn’t see the lingerie/silicone connection coming before it was too late, and now it’s time to move along, people, to ladles.
We here at rickandkathy.com are HUGE fans of good industrial design, especially those involving spouts and hot or sticky liquids.
And we don’t yet own a Rosle Ladle with Pouring Rim. As it currently scores an Amazoning full 5-star rating with 29 raving reviews, some would say this is an error in judgement.
Instead, we’re dribbling along with a robust ancient thing, with appropriately long handle and broad and deep enough spoon but whose pouring spot was designed by Picasso: it’s more art than science.
It’s too solid and familiar to throw out now, I’m afraid, and we’ve reached a detente of sorts over the years where I agree to not expect a clean pour and it quietly concurs.
Some utensils just become fixtures in that sweet entity known as “my kitchen,” and it wouldn’t be the same without them.
