Marshmallow Lime Chiffon Pie

If you live Stateside, then today is Pi Day (3/14). But over here in the UK, the date is written 14/3, so it's not really a holiday that anyone here celebrates.

Never to be foiled by being in a country that doesn't celebrate the same holidays as I want to (and never one to miss an opportunity for pie!) here's a double-whammy holiday recipe for you: it's a pie for Pi Day but it's also green for St. Patrick's Day later this week!* And it's also terrible.

Oh, sorry-- did that come as a surprise to you? Maybe you didn't read the title, which includes both marshmallow and lime. Or perhaps you ignored that photo up there. Or maybe you didn't scroll straight through to the ingredients like I always do to see that this recipe includes lime jello, egg yolks, and marshmallows, and also that it is a nearly-glowing shade of green.

Anyway, I tried to keep an open mind about this recipe, I really did. It's been at least a decade since I had Jello, and even longer since I've had lime Jello, so I was hoping maybe it wasn't as bad as I was thinking it would be. From the second I opened the packet of Jello powder, the entire kitchen smelled like Pine-Sol, and it was hard to stay optimistic after that. But still I persevered. I dissolved the Jello in water, set it aside, and then scrambled some egg yolks. The instructions say to heat the egg yolks slowly with sugar and lemon juice, but, not wanting to scramble the egg yolks by heating them too quickly, I turned the heat as low as it would go so I'd keep a nice smooth custard.

But I didn't count on what happened when I added the lemon juice: it curdled the egg yolks instantly. No matter how much I heated them (or didn't heat them), the egg yolks were curdled, lumpy, and not going to come back together. So I strained out the curdled bits and tried to proceed. But then trying to stir the custard mixture into the still-warm Jello also didn't work (the egg mix floated on top), and then adding whipped egg whites just made the entire thing frothy. Plus, I live in a country with no mini marshmallows, so I had to snip up full-sized ones, which didn't dissolve and took up way too much space in my pie tin. What I'm saying here is this: this is a terrible recipe and you shouldn't make it. Unless you really like lime Jello (or marshmallows), in which case you should just pour some Jello into a pie crust, let it set, and then top it with marshmallows, because this is just not worth it.

*Technically, Scots don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day either... but since the holiday has its origins in the British Isles, I'm counting it. Though I promise a better St. Patrick's Day recipe later this week, so stay tuned! 

The verdict:

0 spoons out of five. I reserve the zero spoons ratings for things that legitimately didn't work, and, based on the picture that accompanies this recipe, which shows a tall, fluffy, pale green concoction with the marshmallows sunken into a single layer at the bottom... well, in comparison, this didn't work.

one year ago: French pudding (another disaster!)

The recipe:

Marshmallow Lime Chiffon Pie

the directions:

Dissolve gelatin in boiling water and set aside.
Combine egg yolks, 1/3 c sugar, lemon juice, and salt.
Stir over very low heat until slightly thickened (this will take awhile).
Remove from heat and blend in gelatin, stirring well.
Chill until slightly thick, meanwhile, beat egg whites until they form soft peaks.
Beat remaining 1/3 c sugar into whites, then fold into gelatin mixture.
Add marshmallows and stir well, then pour into pre-baked pie crust.
Top with shredded coconut and chill until firm, then serve... or don't.

the ingredients:

3 oz lime gelatin (this is one standard-sized US box)
1 c boiling water
2 eggs, separated
2/3 c sugar, divided
¼ c lemon juice
¼ tsp salt
2 c mini marshmallows or regular marshmallows, snipped into small pieces
1 prepared pie crust
½ c shredded coconut

Honey Chocolate Cake (for your honey)

I'm getting better at frosting cakes, too! 

Last week marked FOUR YEARS since Judson and I got married, and seven years since we met, which, probably, makes it a lucky anniversary. We’re celebrating in Tenerife, and hopefully right now I am lying on a beach, drinking something out of a coconut and debating whether my next activity should be to take a nap or go for a swim.

But, prior to leaving Edinburgh, of course I had to make a cake to celebrate, and since we’ve moved on from cheesecakes to chocolate cakes, here’s your monthly chocolate cake recipe: a honey cake for your honey.

Here’s the thing, though: This cake is a pain. Almost every ingredient in it requires some kind of prep before you mix it into the cake: the butter has to be softened, the eggs separated and whipped, if you live in a place where you can’t find buttermilk or cake flour, then lemon juice has to be added to your milk, and cornstarch has to be added to your flour, milk has to be scalded, chocolate melted, pans lined, and the list goes on..

But oh man, is it worth it. The last few chocolate cakes that I have made have been airy or fudgey, but I’ve never made one as velvety as this one. And since the cake was taking so long, I enlisted Judson’s help to make the frosting (a job I hate, though I love frosting, and a job Judson loves, although he hates frosting) and I’ll be damned if he didn’t make the tastiest homemade frosting I’ve ever had. It was perfectly smooth and creamy with the richest cocoa flavour I’ve ever encountered in a frosting. 

(I have no idea what kind of frosting is supposed to be on this cake-- the recipe just says 'confectioner's sugar frosting,' and since I couldn't bare to leave such a perfectly moist cake frosting-free, I opted for a simple, deeply chocolate 'cocoa icing,' that blended up smoother than any frosting I've made in awhile.)

So I guess this cake is a good metaphor for being married, even beyond the perfectly pun-able name: in the end, you’ve got a delicious cake, but only after putting a lot of work into it, and even then, there might be moments when you're sure it's all a disaster before it all comes together in the end (like when I tasted the frosting halfway through the process and it had the consistency of dried cement and tasted so bitter I could barely swallow it).

the verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This cake has a rich and velvety texture from the honey without being cloyingly sweet, and the frosting actually tastes like chocolate-- not just like powdered sugar. It's rich and decadent, and the perfect triumph after all the work you'll have to put in to actually make it. 

One year ago: Fancy tomato soup (and an embarrassing story)

The recipe:

Honey Chocolate Cake

the directions:
Cake:

Note that this recipe requires everything to be done in a certain order, so I've tried to put things below in the order you should do them to avoid the mad scramble I had halfway through. Follow everything below to the letter and you'll have an easier time than I did!

Remove butter from refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature while you prepare everything else.|
Line 2 round cake pans with parchment on the bottom.
Preheat oven to 175C/350F.
If making your own buttermilk, add lemon juice to milk as above and set aside.
If making your own cake flour, sift together the cornstarch and flour as above.
Sift baking powder, salt, and baking soda into the cake flour and set aside.
Melt the chocolate and set aside.
Separate the eggs, set the yolks aside, and beat the whites until stiff but not dry.
Add ¼ c sugar to the egg whites, then beat again until very stiff and glossy.
Set beaten whites aside.
By this time, your butter should be close to room temperature so you can proceed with the recipe.
Cream butter, remaining ½ c sugar, and vanilla.
Add yolks and beat well.
Add chocolate (now melted but cool) and blend.
Gradually beat in honey.
Scald the milk on the stove or in the microwave.
Meanwhile, add sifted flour mixture and buttermilk to chocolate mixture, then beat until smooth.
Fold egg whites gently into batter, then stir in the scalded milk until mixture is of uniform consistency.
Pour into prepared cake pans and bake 20-30 minutes until a pick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Allow to cool completely, then frost.

frosting:

Blend melted shortening, salt, and cocoa.
Add milk and vanilla and beat well (mixture will be dark and grainy).
Add powdered sugar in 3 parts, blending after each.
If mixture is too thick, add a few drops of milk and cream until silky smooth.
Frost the cake and enjoy!

the ingredients:
the cake:

¼ cup butter, softened to room temperature
¾ c sugar, divided
½ tsp vanilla
2 eggs, separated
4 oz unsweetened chocolate, melted and cooled
½ c honey\
2 c cake flour, sifted (make your own cake flour by placing 2 tbsp cornstarch into your measuring cup then filling with flour, for a total of 4 tbsp cornstarch for 2 cups of flour)
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ tsp baking soda
½ c buttermilk (make your own by placing 1 ½ tsp lemon juice into your ½ cup measuring cup, then filling with milk and leaving stand 5-10 minutes until slightly thickened)
½ c milk, scalded (heat milk until tiny bubbles appear around the outer rim but milk does not boil)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the frosting:

¼ c shortening or Stork, melted
¼ tsp salt
½ c cocoa
1/3 c milk
1 ½ tsp vanilla
3 ½ c powdered sugar, sifted & divided

Leg of Lamb with White Wine and Herbs

This week marks four years since Judson and I got married, and seven years since we first met, so we are off celebrating in Tenerife (an Spanish island in the Atlantic) all week long!

But I would never leave you without some celebratory recipes, so here’s a lovely fancy lamb recipe to make next time you have (a lot of) extra cash and some (very fancy) company coming over. Here’s the thing: I was trying to get this made during February, which, over here in the UK is Lamb Lovers’ Month. I thought this would be the perfect dish to make in honour of that… but then I went to the butcher shop and realised how expensive a butterflied, de-boned leg of lamb is.

The answer: very.

Last year to celebrate our anniversary, I made prime rib and the world’s most complicated key lime pie recipe. They were both amazing, and I was so proud of myself for how delicious (and easy!) the prime rib ended up being. I rationalised it in my head because the cost of the prime rib was much lower than the cost of two people going out for dinner… but that is most definitely not the case here. I never had any idea how pricey lamb was, so as soon as I realised how expensive it is, I immediately realised this would have to be our anniversary dinner. And man, was that expense worth it.

I wasn’t holding out a lot of hope for this recipe: Judson and I are both marginal lamb fans at best (though I have made some pretty awesome lamb recipes over the past year), and the marinade was just kind of basic (I thought), AND the biggest problem? This is meant to be cooked on a grill, which I obviously do not have access to in a country that rarely crests 20 degrees Celsius. So I thought we’d mess it up (and I’m lumping Judson in here because you’d better believe he got involved once I found out how expensive this meat was).

But I was totally wrong.

You know how usually when you marinate something, it might become more tender, or it might become saltier or sweeter or something, but you usually can’t taste each individual ingredient in the marinade in the final product? (No? Just me?) Not so in this recipe: the marinade imparted a strong rosemary flavour and an amazing level of bitter-sweetness from the wine. Plus, the oil created a delicious crust and helped to seal in all the moisture. This lamb tasted like a perfectly tender, perfectly seasoned steak, and I think if I had been blindfolded there is no way I would have identified it as lamb.

The only downside to this recipe is that you have to procure for yourself a deboned, butterflied leg of lamb—but your butcher will be able to help you out there, and though the original recipe calls for a 4-6 pound piece of meat, we scaled down based on the butcher’s recommendation for two people (and still got two meals each out of it!). The marinade is easy and if you have an upcoming celebration, I’d encourage you to give this a shot. It is, without a doubt, the best lamb I’ve ever tasted—and definitely the best I’ve ever made!

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. It was worth the price to try this, and hands down worth the ease with which we made it. I’m already hungry just thinking about the leftovers.

New! One year ago: Prime Rib of Beef

The recipe:

Butterflied Leg of Lamb

The directions:

Mix together all ingredients except for lamb.
Place lamb in a shallow dish and pour marinade over it.
Cover tightly and marinate in the refrigerator for 8-10 hours or overnight, turning occasionally.
Drain marinade and place meat in a large oven-proof dish.
Preheat broiler to medium, then place lamb approximately 6 inches from element.
Cook lamb in 10 minute increments, basting with additional wine in between.
Cook 40-45 minutes until lamb is pink in the middle but warmed throughout.
Allow to rest 5-10 minutes, then carve and enjoy.

The ingredients:

½ c vegetable oil
¼ c white wine + additional ½ c for basting
2 tbsp parsley, chopped fine
4 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
2 bay leaves
1-2 tbsp rosemary, chopped coarsely
1 large onion, chopped coarsely
1 tsp salt
1 leg of lamb, boned and butterflied