Trifling

I didn't quite know where to start, except to start by moving stuff over from Facebook, and maybe with something -- impressive? Interesting? Easy? All three?

So how about trifle. True story. I learned to make trifle by eaves-dropping. We had one of those secretaries at The University of Georgia, in the English Department. I was in graduate school. I was totally cowed. She was sweet, in that southern way that means when she talks about you, she says things like "bless her heart," and "she tries, you know." Anyway I can't remember what I was doing in her office -- possibly checking my mail. She was talking to someone else, again, I can't remember who.

"Yes, it's a trifle," she said.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"How do you make it?"

"Well, you take some Dream-whip, and mix it with softened cream cheese."

I thought: Dream-whip? Does anyone really use that stuff anymore? My mother used to fold it into jello in the sixties, but that's the last I knew of it. Dream-whip. I'll be damned.

Meanwhile, I'd missed the middle part.

"Then you spread it over the top, and let it sit for a few hours so the fruit soaks in."

"Wow, Mary. That sounds great. I'll have to try it." (I just remembered the secretary's name.)

Then she left.

Trifle, I thought. What the hell is that? And Dream-whip, and fruit, and cream cheese? It was an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, wrapped in -- powdered desiccated proto-whipped cream? Weird.

I believe I consulted my dictionary next. Then I tried it. Strawberries first, since it seemed sort of like a stacked version of strawberry shortcake. After that, I switched to real whipped cream, started baking my own cakes, started following the fruit of the season, started making custard.

Here's the fall version from this year: Pear-Almond Trifle. Measurements can be inexact when they're not explicitly given. For instance, here, you'll use about 3/4 of the cake and have some of the custard and whipped cream left over too. Depending on the size of the bowl you use.

I got the trifle dish at T.J. Maxx, but have never found a second one there. They have them at Amazon, here, for about $20; the trifle they picture is very sloppy, however, so I wonder about the dish.

Pear-Almond Trifle

The first thing you do is set out 8 oz cream cheese and 1/4 c unsalted butter so they come to room temperature.

Then take five ripe pears (you'll need six).

Peel and core all five, then puree in a food processor until smooth. Sprinkle with sugar, cover, and set aside.

Then make the custard:

3/4 c sugar

3 TBSP corn starch

3 cups of milk (preferably whole)

4 beaten egg yolks

1 TBSP unsalted butter

1 1/2 tsp almond flavoring

In a large saucepan, combine the sugar and corn starch. Add milk and mix throughly. Cook over medium heat, stirring so it doesn't scald, until thick and bubbly. This could take 20 minutes. Cook and stir for two more minutes.

Separate the eggs and put the yolks in a small bowl. Temper them by adding the hot milk to them 1/4 cup at a time, beating throughly, until you've added a full cup. Pour the egg mixture into the pan, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat (stirring constantly), and cook two more minutes. Remove from heat. Mix in butter and almond flavoring. Cover and refrigerate.

Then bake the cake: (Preheat oven to 350)

1 1/3 c flour

2/3 c sugar

2 tsp baking powder

2/3 c milk

1/4 cup softened unsalted butter

1 tsp. almond flavoring

1 egg

1/2 c powdered almonds (whole non-smoked almonds powdered in the food processor).

Combine flour, sugar, baking powder in a large bowl. Add milk, butter, egg, almond flavoring. Beat with an electric mixer on low until combined. Beat on medium for 1 minute. Pour into a greased and floured 13" pyrex rectangular pan. Sprinkle top with almonds, reserving about a TBSP for decoration. Bake 25 to 30 minutes until a toothpick comes out clean.

Clean your mixers and put them in the freezer with a large bowl. Wait five or so minutes. Have a nutellatini (equal parts vanilla vodka, frangelico, and creme de cacao, poured over ice into a chilled glass).

Whip a half-pint of heavy cream until nearly firm with the chilled beaters in the chilled bowl. Chop the cream cheese in quarters, add it, and continue whipping until firm (it sticks to the blenders and looks like slightly lumpy whipped cream).

Assembly:

When the cake is cool, cut it into squares.

Pour about a third of the pear puree in the bottom of the trifle dish. Layer in squares of cake loosely, leaving spaces for the custard and whipped cream to drip down. Pour on about a third of the custard. Cover thinly with whipped cream. Pour in another third of the pear puree and layer as before until you get near the top of the dish. End with whipped cream. Decorate with the reserved pear and reserved powdered almonds. I made a dahlia. Or a mum. Or -- well, a flower anyway. You should do what you like.

There you go.

Raisin d'etre

Okay, I'm here because of Muriel Cormican. Not because she's my mother -- god knows I have enough mothers already, and then some -- but because last night she said: Oh, you should start a food blog. You're already doing that on Facebook anyway, so you might as well just migrate all that stuff over into a blog. Then Maria Doyle (search her name on this page) said something about long statuses full of food information. And then there was the quasi-complaining about my FB notes full of recipes.

Well, who could resist such blandishments? Particularly on a belly full of roast turkey marinated in butter and wine, herbed with thyme, tarragon, garam masala. Not to mention the spicy cornbread-apple-walnut-soysage stuffing, the tarragon and butter braised snap beans, the biscuits and cornbread and all the stuff that goes with it. We were heady with tryptophen, giddy with orange cranberries and vanilla whipped cream, high on dairy and Muriel's rum cake (hey, Muriel, cough up that recipe, wouldja?).

Which means this might be a bad idea. We'll know in a month or so.

So here are the rules, subject to change with notice:

1. I cook like I cook: largely without recipes and without measuring. I'll provide recipes when I'm sure I'm not violating someone's copyright; otherwise, you can just watch and figure it out.
2. I am relatively poor and utterly disinterested in hip cuisine. This is usually because hip cuisine costs too much and often doesn't deliver in taste. I don't need specially strangled mongoose from Burma if I can get a really tasty apple. What I do is, metaphorically speaking, biscuits. Just. biscuits.
3. Except for some very special baked goods, if it isn't my version of easy, I don't make it.
4. I am a fowletarian. I eat no red meat or fish. This is because it's expensive and I don't like the taste (meat); and because it's expensive, tastes bad, I live where it's landlocked so nothing's fresh, and I'm allergic (fish). Mostly I cook vegetarian. Thus, what you'll get is non-meat-oriented food.
5. I am a big, strong, middle-aged woman (not Paula Deen who is totally non-threatening -- more like someone's 45-year-old Sicilian grandmother who raised seven very good boys). I like food. With some exceptions, I use the real stuff. If you're interested in making my food, but want to substitute, go ahead. Write me and let me know how that works out.

Here we go.