Ok fine. This rash of 2137 activity has sucked me into its vortex! So here is an update from Jennifer, completing the crafty trio.
Since the last time we spoke (about granola and depression) I’ve made a few positive life decisions, grown in faith and in wisdom, developed as a person… and decided to make a concerted effort to drink more.
But is this a good idea, you ask? The blood of my fathers, which runneth in my veins, says, “Ayyyyye!”
It all started with the purchase of this book in the Borders bargain bin…
…and blossomed into a new life-chapter filled with sloshy taste adventures. Who even knew there WERE 1001 cocktails?? Plus, I hear it makes those pills work better :).
Here I will begin a series of posts to open up to you a world of boozy cookery, resulting in delicious, mouth-tingling noms, and possibly an intervention. And even more possibly a scene like this:
[[from neatobambino.com: “This toddler has no sense of propriety. What a mess! She’s staggering around, knocking stuff over! She obviously can’t hold her drink.”]]
Let’s begin with dessert, since our judgment is already impaired. This is Emeril’s Strawberry Irish Crumble with Irish Whiskey Butter.
If you’ve never heard of whiskey butter, it’s like butter but sweet and with the ability to burn your nose hairs off. The perfect addition to any cold-weather treat.
To begin, collect the following for the topping:
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
- 3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
- 1/4 cup Irish whiskey
Whip up your butter and sugar…
Until creamy and dreamy like so:
Then reach into your cabinet and withdraw a HEALTHY DRAM OF FINE SPIRITS:
I uses Jameson because I like it. A lot.
My gracious, where did it all go? Didn’t I have more of this stuff? Why can’t I remember the month of November?
Measure out a precious quarter cup and introduce it to your butter. It is the luckiest butter there ever was.
Initially it will look a bit curdled and disgusting like runny eggs…
But give it a minute and it will start to look better and better. (This is true of many things after a quarter cup of whiskey.)
Put this fatty fireball in your fridge until eating time. (It could also do double duty slathered on a nice warm slice of Irish soda bread, if you need something to soak up all that brine in your stomach.)
For the Crumble, assemble this:
- 5 cups quartered strawberries
- 3 cups sliced rhubarb, about 1/3-inch thick (fresh or frozen and thawed)
- 1/2 cup sugar
- 1/4 cup cornstarch
- 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
- 3/4 cup flour
- 3/4 cup old-fashioned oats
- 2/3 cup packed light brown sugar
- Pinch salt
- 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, diced
Then dump the whole bloody mess into a bowl, and add your rhubarb.
If your fingers are a bit numb after all that frozenated chopping, I recommend you do as the Russians do:
Mix, and set it aside and let it party.
Hey, flash bulbs! Ow they hurt my eyes!
Crumble time. Extract some chilled butter cubes (nonalcoholic) from the fridge and add to your flour, oats, and pinch of salt:
Pinch in the butter with your nimble, warmed, patriotic fingers! Isn’t this fun?? Reach a consistency reminiscent of crumbs:
Now the moment of truth. Dump goop into a prepared baking pan. Douse with an extra splash of somethinsomethin if you are so inclined:
Spread crumble atop goop.
Pop goop into oven at 375 for 40 minutes. Make self a Manhattan and kick back in front of a BBC miniseries about author who drinks too much.
(Any Human Heart, btw, is a pretty entertaining series and, trippily, also features my childhood hero Agent Scully as the skanstraordinary Wallace Simpson:
After viewing, you will vow to obey the Captain and drink responsibly. Wait! Your timer has beeped! Extract crumble from oven! Let sit for 10 minutes or so! Fix a bowl of tart, sugary, crumbly mess and top it with dollops of the zingy spread.
Next time, we’ll explore some savory ways to cook with your licker cabnit, venturing into the realm of dinner.
Sloppy kisses and awkward hugs,