I am a horrible blogger. You must think I’ve abandoned you. And, I kinda have. We moved. I got a job (with American General Life and Accident). Life has… overwhelmed. I have hardly cooked, baked or even looked at my kitchen beyond fixing cereal or a sandwich. It’s a horrible, horrible shame.

But today, I have the craving to cook. To cook the Brussels sprouts and broccoli and chicken breast and potatoes languishing in my kitchen, even though I need to clean because tomorrow evening we’re leaving to go to Kentucky for a week of vacation and Thanksgiving. So maybe I’ll take photos of that.

In the meantime, I still love pound cake, so I’m going to leave you – not forever – with this. Married women, this is so for you.

Don’t Send a Man to the Grocery Store!
Jeanne Robertson

I am one of those apparently few who don’t really care for banana bread. I mean, I’ll eat it if I don’t have a choice, but it’s not something I go out of my way to get. I prefer apples. And it’s not an unpleasant food – I just don’t care for it. Cullen, on the other hand, loves the stuff. So when we had some bananas getting browner by the second laying on the counter, he asked me, “Can you make banana bread?” And when he got the look that says “um, duh, honey,” he shut up and put the banana in the freezer. About a week later, I took them out and started making banana bread so he would have something tasty and reasonably healthy to take to work with him. They were a stellar hit with him, and with his OIC, so good things all around.

(Recipe after the jump.)

Baby Banana Bread Bundts

Adapted from the recipe at  bell’alimento

Ingredients:

5 overripe bananas
2 cups AP flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp fresh ground nutmeg
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, room temp
2 eggs
1 c sugar
2 capfuls vanilla
pecans, finely chopped, to taste

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, combine the flour, baking soda & salt. In a separate bowl, mash your bananas. In your mixer with the whisk attachment, mix the bananas & sugar until creamy (3-4 minutes). Add the butter, eggs & vanilla & mix well. Add in the dry ingredients (little by little you don’t want flour all over your kitchen) until well blended and fold in pecan bits. Spray your baby bundt pan with cooking spray. Pour the batter into baby bundts, about half full. Bake for about 25-30 minutes, until golden brown. NOTE: If you are using loaf pans or muffin pans you’ll need to bake them accordingly. Keep an eye on them you don’t want to overcook them. Let them cool slightly on rack before serving.

These babies (no pun actually intended) were moist, nutty and delicious, with only an overtone of banana. I forgot to add the nutmeg this go-round, but next time it will be a definite add-in, along with a little bit of cinnamon. I have four individual mini-bundts, and this recipe ended up with two batches. They puff up nicely, so if you fill them too full, you’ll end up with toadstool bundts like my mini pound cakes. The second batch, I covered the bottoms in brown sugar, and was rewarded with nice caramelized tops when I popped them out. Very tasty. So thanks, Paula, for throwing this recipe out there! We’ll definitely be letting more bananas go past their prime from now on.

Finally, things are starting to settle down. A new house is rapidly becoming home for us. Three pecan trees in the front – can’t wait for pecans to fall so we can roast and freeze and store them – and a fenced yard in the back for the two furry children, who are thrilled to have room to run and bushes to lay under. Hardwood floors, lots of closet space, and the kitchen – oh sweet kitchen. Open space, with windows to the front yard (and the elderly neighbors’ three acres of flower gardens). New and new-to-us appliances, barely used or loved – until now. I have a brand-new stove and chest freezer – the thrill! The chest freezer has gotten its love and is slowly accumulating frozen meats, unbaked baguettes and the remainder of my birthday DQ icecream cake. (Don’t hate.) And the range has gotten more than its share so far with plenty of sautéing, pan-frying and water-boiling going on. But the oven… the poor, neglected oven has yet to experience any baked goods, so far serving only to warm leftovers or food-gifts for a large family supper.

I wanted a recipe that would showcase my appreciation for this new appliance in my home, something that would fill the house with warmth and love. A banana nut bread thought popped up, but alas – no nuts in the house. A desire for popovers popped up one morning, but I can’t seem to find my regular muffin tins. Breads are intended, but mostly for freezing and baking later, and besides, we don’t need fresh bread right now. No other recipe spoke to me. What recipe would share that feeling I wanted in my house, the homey loving wanted feeling?

Of course. How could I be so silly?

Pound cake.

By now, you must think my world revolves around pound cake. Three recipes flitting around? I have to be obsessed. Not really. There’s just nothing simpler, more comforting or more versatile than pound cake. My wedding cake was pound cake (then again, most large bakery recipes are, in some form or fashion). It can be plain, flavored, ganached or glazed, topped with buttercream or flowers or berries and cream and it still tastes awesome.

Nothing against Great-great-great Grandpa Fulghum, but I just didn’t have time for a massive pound cake undertaking. I wanted it now. I had four brand-new baby bundts I wanted to use, and I didn’t want to keep filling and refilling them all night. So I searched through all those files I keep bookmarked on Delicious and came up with a recipe from food is luv. Perfect pound cake. And I thought, “well, let’s give it a go.” So I did.

Keep in mind, however, that this is one of those recipes which cannot be completely successfully replicated without all the proper ingredients. I had to substitute – where we are now does not allow for “running out” to the store, necessarily – all-purpose and cornstarch for cake flour, and while my cakes were good, they were not as dense as I would have liked. The crumb, however, was perfect.

Perfect Pound Cake

Adapted from food is luv

Ingredients:

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 c sugar
3 eggs
1 egg yolk
1 1/2 c (less 2 Tbsp) all-purpose flour, measured and sifted
2 Tbsp cornstarch, sifted
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 c heavy cream
1 tsp vanilla

Directions:

Butter and flour four 6” bundts. Whisk together flour, cornstarch and salt; set aside. Whisk together cream and vanilla; set aside. In an electric mixer or separate mixing bowl, cream sugar and butter until pale, light and fluffy. Add the eggs and yolk, one at a time, making sure each one is incorporated. Add flour in three batches, alternating with cream, beginning with flour and ending with flour. Mix so that everything is well incorporated but don’t overmix. Pour or spoon batter into bundts, filling to half, put bundts on a baking sheet and set on middle rack of a cold oven. Bake at 350°F for 50-60 minutes, until crumb has formed and tester comes out clean. Cool in pan on wire racks for 5-10 minutes, then invert and let cool completely.

Makes 6-8 mini-bundts.

Oh, by the way – definitely don’t overfill these. In a studious stupor, I filled mine to the top and was rewarded with mini-bundt toadstools. Cute if presented properly, and still super tasty, but if you want to showcase the bundt shape, no toadstools for you.

These toadstools, by the way, make excellent breakfast.

You may not know this, but a well-made pound cake is a beautiful, tasty, delightful thing. God bless whoever came up with the idea of putting a pound apiece of butter, sugar, flour and eggs (in that order, I understand) together and making a simple cake creation out of it.

Pound cake is nearly a religious symbol in the South. Everyone, and I mean everyone, has a different recipe. You’d think a pound cake recipe wouldn’t have nearly so many variations, but everybody’s grandmama or grandaddy or Aunt Bessie or Cousin Alma or Aunt Ellie who’s not really your aunt but she might as well be family… everybody’s got a recipe. Some call for shortening, some call for butter. Some call for vanilla, some for lemon. Some call for chocolate chips or blueberries or peaches. Some are reportedly best baked in loaf pans, while others are better in a tube pan, and still others only work in a 10-inch bundt. (There are folks who would faint if you baked their beloved family recipe in a bundt. I don’t really know why.) Some recipes turn out a fluffy, pale interior with a barely golden puckered crust, while other recipes produce a dense yellow beauty complete with a toothsome outer dark brown crumb. It all depends on your fat, and your means of mixing, and the time spent mixing wet vs. dry and dry into wet…

Such a simple recipe doesn’t seem so simple, does it?

Fear not, mine child. The pound cake is not so frightening, and you will love it as much as we do. The only reason we have so many variable recipes is because of our love for this tasty creation.

I have a recipe posted in the annals of this blog, a recipe passed down from four generations back on my mother’s side of the family, a recipe which has not been changed and can stand the test of time. It is the recipe I judge all others from because it’s my family recipe, and as such, the be-all end-all as far as that side of the family’s concerned. (My father’s side of the family is pure Kentucky, and depending on who you ask, may or may not be considered truly Southern. As such, we may or may not be required to have a pound cake recipe to be jealous of.) It makes a bundt and a loaf, either of which are just as delicious as the other. Shape doesn’t matter to me – as long as it’s dense, super-moist and possesses that wonderful, heavenly dark crust, I could care less. Just let me eat the whole cake by myself.

The recipe I used for this cake, however, is one Bee has tucked away in the lovely archives of Rasa Malaysia, and she adapted it from About.com of all places. The original recipe is for blueberry pound cake, but it’s quite simple to take out the blueberries and add some serious lemon flavor instead.

Recipe: Blueberry Pound Cake
Adapted from Rasa Malaysia

Ingredients:

1 cup butter (softened)
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 cups all-purpose or plain flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
zest and juice of 2-3 medium lemons

Method:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs one at a time and beat until light and fluffy. Add vanilla. Sift 2 cups flour, salt and baking powder together. Add sifted ingredients to creamed mixture and beat. Grease and dust the bundt pan (or tube pan) with flour*; pour batter into it. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until it’s done.

*This is VERY important: failing to grease AND flour the pan before adding the batter will not yield an easily removable cake and you will end up with a broken crust! Use butter or shortening (if you must) to grease the pan, not spray – it will develop the all-important crust.

TIPS:

- If you have children, animals or really loud friends over, make them settle down or go outside while this cake is baking. I’m sure you’ve heard the old saying that loud noises and big movements will make a cake fall. It’s not an old wives’ tale – it’s true, and no truer than for a pound cake. They will fall in a heartbeat if your child plops himself in the floor spontaneously or if the dog chases the cat across the floor and runs into the refrigerator. Know what I mean?

- Because of the simplicity of the recipe, choose the best ingredients that you can find. They will shine through.

- Let the cake cool fully in the pan before you attempt to remove it to a wire rack or plate. Removing it prematurely could ruin the top (which will become the bottom).

- Don’t be afraid to make a glaze (milk + powdered sugar + teench vanilla), either plain or lemon, or even chocolate, to drizzle on top. I bet it would be pretty damn tasty.

Thanks, Bee, for posting an About.com recipe, so I didn’t have to be afraid that it would fail me. This one’s staying in the rotation.

I’ve only made this cake twice – once to try it out, which was a huge success, and the second time for Cullen’s 25th birthday, on request. It was actually quite an honor to be asked to make the cake for his birthday. Normally his aunt makes all birthday cakes for the family, but in this case (and under family circumstances), not so much. He got a piece of the first cake and was smitten from the word “go.” When we asked him what he wanted for his birthday cake, he immediately answered: “That chocolate cake you made and took to the office. It was goooood.”

How can you turn down a man with a wish for his birthday cake?

The only difference between the two was the buttercream that I used. I used a recipe for “drier” buttercream the first go-round – that’s the cake that I’ve been teasing you with for weeks on end. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t remember where I found that particular recipe, so I had to go searching for another one. I finally settled on the SMBC from Joy the Baker, and though it was tasty, I think I screwed it up. It was very soft, and like to never set up properly. Of course, it may have been divine retribution from the Kitchen Gods for using someone else’s Cuisinart mixer versus my own loving KitchenAid to make the damn buttercream in the first place. I’m sure that’s a cardinal sin, written down in the original kitchen Bible. That’ll teach me, won’t it? Maybe next time, it’ll work out for me.

The moisture comes from the addition of vegetable oil, I think, and it works out really well that way. Normally I’m not a fan of oil as the fat in cakes – I’m a good Southern girl, give me my butter! – but in this cake, it works. I wouldn’t dare use applesauce or yogurt in place of oil here, although I might consider using yogurt just for the tang. (Maybe cream cheese? Mmm, the possibilities.) The instant coffee really brings out the flavor of the chocolate, but be sure to level it out at least before you add it in, or it will overpower your chocolate instead of enhancing it. (In other words, don’t be like me.)

Hershey’s Perfect Chocolate Chocolate Cake

found at Obsessed With Baking

2 cups sugar
1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup HERSHEY’S Cocoa (natural)
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1-1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup boiling water
(I added 1 tsp of instant coffee)

Directions:
1. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease and flour two 9-inch round baking pans.

2. Stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt in large bowl. Add eggs, milk, oil and vanilla; beat on medium speed of mixer 2 minutes. Stir in boiling water (batter will be thin). Pour batter into prepared pans.

3. Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks. Cool completely. Frost with “PERFECTLY CHOCOLATE” CHOCOLATE FROSTING. 10 to 12 servings.

I hope you enjoy this cake as much as we did. It keeps for quite a while and the chocolate flavor cures the longer it sits. If I’d have had the foresight (and the time) to bake the cake layers a day or so ahead of time, I’d definitely have done that just so the flavor could have intensified. I recommend a dry buttercream, like flour frosting or something similar, to complement the moistness of the cake. But of course, do as you will. I’ll guarantee you that you’ll be happy with the end product, no matter what you do on the outside (or the inside).

I’ve been meaning to make this ever since Ree posted it on PW Cooks! And then, lo and behold, TWD up and makes a Parisian Apple Tart…let. Tinier and fancier than Ree’s, but you know what? Who needs cute? I just want dessert – who cares if it’s cute? I’m not a TWD baker for that reason (and, well, I don’t own nor have the disposable cash to buy the book), and besides, I have a country girl-connection with Ree’s cooking. It speaks to me.

As with a great many of my escapades, I ended up making this out of necessity. I had an open box of puff pastry in the deep freeze, in danger of frostbite and infamous freezer burn; and I had four five Granny Smith apples sitting on the counter, threatening immediate rot and revolt if I didn’t go ahead and use them for their intended purpose. Kitchen mutiny! I shouldn’t say that. My kitchen is actually trying to help me stay honest and use up what I already have before I dance off to the grocery for newer, prettier items and ignore the unloved foodstuffs languishing on the counter and in the back of the fridge. Lucky for me that Granny Smiths are much hardier than their cousins Gala and Golden Delicious, or they would’ve ended up in the bin instead of on sheets of puff pastry.

I enlisted Cullen (that’s 354, for those of you that don’t know) to cut up apples. I’m left-handed, and while we’re purportedly rather creative beings, we generally suck at straight lines and vectors. That is to say, I can’t cut in a straight line to save my fingers, nor can I make very teeny tiny slivers of things as I would like without the use of a mandoline. Cullen, on the other hand, is right-handed and rather good in a manly, mechanical fashion, and therefore perfect for slicing up apples into something other than wedges or chunks. While he was slicing apples, I was unfolding puff pastry and slicing a sheet in half, spraying down baking sheets… you know, prep stuff. Oh, and playing on the Internet. Does that make me a horrible person, surfing the Internet while my erstwhile fiancè is painstakingly slicing apples on my behalf? I hope not, ’cause it’s going to happen again. Though maybe not with apples involved. Probably onions.

When he was finished, he called me back into the kitchen. Sweet baby had put them all in a water bath with lemon to keep them fresh. Being who I am, I hadn’t told him what I was going to do with the apples, just to slice them. (He does well with direct instruction. I love you, dear.) So I drained them off and mixed the brown sugar, lemon juice and teensy bit of salt. I might should have drained them better on paper towels to remove some of that excess moisture, but that seemed like such a waste. Besides, I was in a hurry. After I let them everything make friends for a little while, I came back and find my apple slices bathing in a dark, thick syrup of brown sugar and lemon juice. Oops. Too much moisture. Oh well – too late now! I arranged the apple slices semi-artfully on two halves of puff pastry and stuck them in the preheated oven to cook and puff away prettily.

Meanwhile, there was still quite a bit of sugared, syrupy apple left in that big ol’ metal mixing bowl. What to do, what to do? Obvious answer was to snack on sugared apple slices for a while, but let me tell you a secret: you can only eat so much, and it turns out in this case that “so much” ain’t a whole lot. So what to do? I was thinking I’d just make another tart. “Bake a pie!” Cullen says. Okay, I can do that. Except I’ve already cut out another sheet of pastry for the next set of tarts! “You can make a lattice crust out of it,” he says. I can go with that, despite the little voice in my head telling me that pie crust =/= puff pastry. So what, right? Live a little. When he returns from his aunt’s house with two pie crusts, he cocks his head to the side. “Won’t puff pastry puff too much to make a lattice crust?”

…Men. I swear.

To appease me, apparently, he nudges me back out of the kitchen. “Here, I’ll do it. I had a vision.” Okay, dear. His visions are usually pretty spot-on (most of the time) and I’m content at this point to sit down and watch an NCIS I’ve already seen about 1400 times. He muddles around and pops his creations in the oven. “What’d you make?” I ask. “It’s a surprise,” he replies. Not too much longer after that, my tarts and his surprises are out of the oven. Apple purses! Like the tarts, but round and fun-sized! I told you, his visions can be pretty spot-on.

We ate one a piece warm out of the oven, with vanilla icecream. What a good way to ruin your appetite before supper. (Psst. I actually ate two. But I deserved it. It had been a stressful day.)

So if you get the chance, or the urge, pull out some of that emergency puff pastry, slice up some apples, mix ‘em up with some sugar and bake you up some apple tart. Just be sure to pat away any excess moisture (although the syrup does make a good glaze), and for the love of cake, don’t be like me – use a baking sheet with a lip on it.

Quick & Easy Apple Tart

by Ree Drummond/Pioneer Woman

1 sheet puffed pastry, cut into half OR thirds
3 to 4 apples, cored, halved, and sliced (but not peeled)
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 415 degrees.

Place puffed pastry rectangles onto a baking pan that’s been sprayed with nonstick spray.

Add sugar and salt to apples. Stir to combine. Allow to sit for a few minutes.

Arrange apple slices on the pastry rectangles in a straight line, overlapping as you go.

Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, or until pastry is puffed and golden brown.

Remove from pan immediately and place on a serving platter. Serve plain, with caramel topping, whipped cream, or a sprinkling of powdered sugar.

Feel like a pastry chef.

Repeat as needed.

You know you want to go home and make some right now.

Oh, p.s. I know I said I was going to post once a week, but I’m making an exception to this week because today is Cullen’s 25th birthday! He requested the Hershey’s chocolate cake with Swiss meringue buttercream that I’ve been teasing you with for weeks on end. I’m making him cupcakes tonight to bring for his shift (poor baby has to work on his birthday, isn’t that sad?), and then a layer cake for the family birthday celebration tomorrow afternoon. Pictures and post coming before week’s end!

Happy birthday, sweetheart! I love you!

To be honest, I would have never made this if it wasn’t for my future mother-in-law’s request. She was perusing the Internet and lo and behold, came upon the Artisan Bread in Five site when the Red Pepper Fougasse was the top post on the frontpage. She fell in love, apparently, and when she showed the office, she said, “I bet Kate can make that. She makes stuff like that all the time!”

So I did, thanks to the wonderful ABi5 folks, Zoë and Jeff, who are kind enough to post their recipes online. I followed the recipe almost exactly, and it turned out beautifully. The only difference I made was in the Master Dough – on a whim, I made a wheat dough (half wheat and half regular all-purpose).

The recipe is posted here, of course, and I highly suggest you try it out, especially if you like savory filled breads. Not only my future mother-in-law, but everyone in the family enjoyed this bread, and these can be some picky people! Red pepper fougasse is not usually served next to green beans and pot roast here! What more of a recommendation could you want?

I mean it. HARD. Of course, all the dedicated bloggers know that already. But as a beginner blogger, they don’t tell you that when you start. You just start one up, get a few readers, type a few posts and think ‘Hey, this is easy!’ And it is, as long as you’re not worried about a reader following, or any real subject matter – as long as you’re writing for yourself. It’s like writing a novel that isn’t intended for anyone else to read. It can be misspelled, grammatically incorrect, pointless and inaccurate as to the rule of the world (from gravity to the average speed of human reflexes) because your target audience is none other than yourself.

But that’s not the point of a good blog. A good blog isn’t written for the writer, but for the readers. And some folks start up a blog, continue it for a little while, then quit a few months later. Why? Usually it isn’t because of negative comments, or a lack of readership (sometimes it is), but because the writer is just not committed. My last real post was over a month ago. I’m sorry. I’ve meant to write up something interesting, something worth reading, but I just haven’t been able to manage. Thanks to a life crisis of mild depression from an increasingly poor living situation; then a week and a half of moving; and then a bout with a scary medical emergency that turned out to be a brain tumor (NOT me, just family) the rest of May and this first week of June have been crazy with adjustments and readjustments to living, eating, cooking, sleeping and living in general. Now that everything’s getting back in some semblance of order (more time for martial arts vs. no Internet at home), I can try to get back on track. I have a full kitchen now, and sick family to cook for – one that not only enjoys, but actually requests new, healthy food! There’s no reason why I can’t (in theory) write up a post at night and blog at work during my lunch hour, or early in the morning, or late in the day! …right?

Trouble is, by the time I get home, it’s hard to do anything besides clean, eat a short meal, feed the dogs and go to bed. I’m exhausted. (Cleaning up after a 70-year-old can be worse than with a 2-year-old…) I have so much to do on the weekends – plant new garden beds, mow the lawn, train the dogs, clean the bathroom and our bedroom, wash laundry, put away laundry – phew, is this what it’s like, being a stay at home mom? I have the utmost respect for you. I’m not being the least sarcastic. Plus, I’m job-searching like mad because my current position is up come the end of the month (all of a sudden, and no I’m not kidding about that part) and trying to find even a part-time position in this economy requires an act of Congress signed by God and the Holy Spirit. Plus, other things I dare not speak of for fear that audible speech may ruin the chances of realization are in the works, things that I must pray hard for.

But enough of excuses. No more random updates. No more filler posts of “I suck, sorry.” After this one, I mean. I’m going to put myself on a schedule – once a week blog posts, every Friday, with the occasional bonus just-can’t-wait-for-Friday Monday post. Surely I can come up with something remotely interesting, vaguely delicious, every seven days, can’t I? If others do it more than once a week, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to hold up one post a week barring an earthquake, the Internet hitting the end of its limits and the coming of the Messiah. Starting next week with Hershey’s chocolate cake and Swiss meringue buttercream… yum.

I hope you can forgive me.

Or filler. I’m so funny.

Just a tease:

Everybody has the vegetable they loathed as a child, and probably don’t even like now. There’s the infamous Brussels sprout, the terrible broccoli (or cauliflower, in some cases), the despicable beet. I was apparently the golden child of my generation – I ate carrots straight from the soil and beans picked just off the vine. But I had a few that I wouldn’t eat. Lima beans, a favorite of Mom’s. Tomatoes, though ketchup was okay*. Okra in any form.

And sweet potatoes.

I don’t know why ’sweet potatoes.’ One would think it would be a no-contest children’s food – mashed, cubed, easily flavored, often sweet. What more could you want? It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t eat them. Maybe it was the presentation first – the only way I ever saw sweet potato was in casserole or soufflé, topped with marshmallows and browned black on top, rough-textured and cloyingly sweet. I was not a fan, and in fact, am still not a fan of that particular dish. As I got older, I still shunned them in whatever form, whatever color, however prepared. No sweet potatoes, or yams, or anything. No thank you.

Now that I am older still, I’m a little more adventurous. I heard about all the health benefits of sweet potatoes, saw the lovely colors and decided… well, they’re cheap for right now, why not? I took some home and promptly forgot about them. Good thing tubers stay acceptable in the dark and cool of my pantry.

I was hungry right then, so I decided baked sweet potatoes were right out. I didn’t have time to wait an hour or somesuch for baked potatoes. I peeled and cubed them roughly instead, planning on a mashed sweet potato something. I threw my cubes in a pot of boiling water and let them starch themselves out while I put breaded pork chops in the oven and prepared asparagus spears for roasting.

In the midst of the potatoes’ boiling, I tasted one to see what it was transforming into. I was pleasantly surprised to find it tasted like little more than a carrot (which happens to be one of my favorite veggies to this day). On that note, I decided mix it all together with a little booze, some honey and a little brown sugar after draining off the water.

Plating it all together gave me a medley of colors – bright green asparagus, juicy browned chop and blatantly orange sweet potato cubes. (The mashed part went out the window when I decided I was just too hungry to wait the extra few minutes. Isn’t that terrible?) I ate a piece of chop, a spear of asparagus… and a piece of sweet potato. It was slightly boozy from the whiskey (Bulleit Bourbon, for those who are curious), salty to a point and honey-sweet – but not the sweet sticky cloy of my childhood. I ate all my sweet potato that night and all the leftovers for a day or two after that. I’m still thinking about the sweet mash, but maybe at another time.

That’s one down – maybe one day I’ll have worked myself up to like raw tomatoes.

Was there ever a vegetable you hated as a kid that you grew up to love (or at least tolerate)?

*Did you ever get the spiel from your parents (if you were a tomato-hater like me) that you couldn’t possiblydislike tomatoes, because you liked ketchup and that was just mashed up tomatoes? Did it aggravate the tar out of you too? It sure did me.