Monthly Archives: August 2011

Blueberry Port Cobbler

Blueberries were recently on sale at my grocery store–$5 for 2 pounds! This blueberry cobbler was the result. I had seen it just a few days prior on Soup Addict’s blog (who in turn took her inspiration from Paul Deen), switched out the Grand Marnier for Port and called it Rin Tin Tin.

Of course, this cobbler didn’t take care of all those blueberries, so I did what any other rational, sensient being would do and simply drowned the rest of them in heavy cream. With a sprinkling of sugar. Ahoy mateys! What ho! It looketh to me piratey eyes like we’ve spotted a cream-lovin’ land-lubber! With all that cream she will turn into blubber! Lubber-blubber! Oh hoh hoh and a bottle or rum!

I realize that little flight of fancy made no sense. For accuracy’s sake, please strike the ‘sensient’ and ‘rational’ descriptors above, and for heaven’s sake let’s move on before this post completely disintegrates into nonsense.

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

2 cups blueberries, fresh or frozen
3 TBS cup water
1 cup sugar, divided
1 TBS corn starch
1 TBS Port
1 pinch freshly ground nutmeg

4 TBS butter
3/4 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup milk

Yikes! I’m already forgetting ingredients.

This guy was hiding out in the liquor cabinet. Yo hoh hoh and a bottle of port, say I.

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Put the butter in a 1 1/2 quart baking dish, and place it in the oven to melt.

Grab yon cute yellow pot.

Pour in the berries, 1/2 of the sugar . . .

. . . and the water.

I should note that though I used 1/4 cup of water when I made it, I reduced the amount to 3 TBS in the printable recipe (linked at the bottom of the post) per Soup Addict’s recommendation. You’ll see why later.

Heat the fruit over medium high until it’s boiling, and add the cornstarch.

Stir in the cornstarch, and add the nutmeg . . .

. . . and port.

In fact, next time I’ll probably just substitute the water for port.

Now turn down the heat to low, and simmer it for 10 minutes.

Mix the flour, remaining 1/2 cup of sugar, baking powder, and salt in a small bowl, combining well so that there are no lumps.

(I gave it a quick sift with my fingers to make sure–no one wants a baking powder surprise hidden in the batter)

Add the milk in slowly, stirring vigorously, to prevent clumping.

Pour the flour/milk mixture into the baking dish over the melted butter. I should note that Soup Addict’s batter looked much thicker than mine. I have no idea why. I think I’ll blame the kitchen imps–the same ones that try to cause something to fall out of the freezer every time I open it. I’m not naming names–but they know who they are.

Don’t stir the batter and butter together! Just let them coexist–together, but separate.

Spoon the fruit over top, ladling in the syrup at the end.

Beautiful!

And I love the deep magenta color of the berry syrup.

Mmmm. I want to bathe myself in it. Or possibly have a dress made in that exact shade.

Bake the cobbler for 40-50 minutes. The batter should rise to the top . . .

Mine didn’t.

It stubbornly decided to bake up differently than Soup Addict’s cobbler.

But it was still awesome.

The sides pulled away easily from the baking dish.

It’s the butter at work, I can tell you that much.

My cobbler turned out more like a berry sauce with floating bits of deliciously spongey cake. See? It’s like a (thick) fruit soup in there.

Not that I’m complaining, mind you. But this is the reason behind the after-the-fact reduction of the water to 3 TBS in the printable recipe, which will hopefully reduce the soupiness of yours.

Serve with ice cream!

It stores well in the fridge, and when you reheat it the next day, the cake is just as spongey.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Blueberry Port Cobbler

Ham and Egg Breakfast Sandwich

I am so excited about this sandwich. Not just because it’s delicious, easy to make either for breakfast or on a busy weeknight, and made from things we normally have in our pantry (though all those things are true), but because there is finally an entry under my ‘sandwiches’ category. This brings me one step closer to accomplishing my summer culinary goals. Can I hear a “hoo! ha! fuhubugadz!” from anyone out there in the crowd this morning?

Anyone? Fuhubugadz?

Anyway.

The sandwich is nothing fancy, though you could dress it up with chives or peppers or bacon, but I’m sharing here just in case some poor urchin out there hasn’t tried throwing one together before. And I mean ‘urchin’ in the most affectionate way possible–I’m going for a lovable and pathetic Oliver Twist kind of thing. See, I was once of those poor urchins who hadn’t made a breakfast sandwich before, until one of my sisters stepped in and changed things forever.

I can’t remember which one. Maybe Erica? Maybe Heidi? Anyway, it’s satisfying and perfect and . . . well, technically not really a recipe.

“You know, even though I’m posting this on my blog, let’s be honest–this isn’t really a recipe,” I said mournfully to my husband after tossing it on a plate. “It’s more like . . . an assembly.”

“But assembly meals are my favorite kind!” exclaimed my husband.

Then, because he said exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment, I rewarded him with five schmoochy kisses and a partridge in a pear tree.

So with his support and encouragement, and because this satisfied his man-palate and his man-stomach, here we go!

Ingredients

(Serves 1)

1 English muffin, halved
1 egg
Pat of butter
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 slice Muenster cheese
1-2 thin slices good-quality ham

Don’t harangue me for saying ‘good quality ham’–I’m not trying to pull an Ina Garten on you (though I do love the woman)–it’s just that since the ingredients here are so few, the quality will really make a difference. With that note, we shall proceed.

Halve and toast the English muffin . . .

. . . and spread it with butter on both sides.

Set it aside.

In a non-stick skillet, heat up the pat of butter over medium high heat until fully melted. Crack the egg into the butter, sprinkle it with salt and pepper, and turn down the heat to medium.

As the white of the egg begins to set, use a spatula to gently break the yolk in the middle and fold the thin edges of white towards the center to create a round shape. Something like this:

And I almost forgot–toss the slice (or slices) of ham to the skillet, next to the egg.

Take a second to slice up the old block of Muenster. And that “old” was an affectionate term, not an indicator of a potentially moldy situation.

Make the slices on the thin side–we don’t want to drown this thing in cheese.

When the egg is mostly set, turn it over (turn the ham over too) . . .

. . . and place the slice of Muenster on top.

Cook the egg for just another minute or two, until it’s fully cooked and the cheese is melted.

You’ll notice that my one slice of cheese somehow became three slices of cheese. I chalk it up to the Mysterious Ways of the Universe.

Now it’s time to assemble the sandwich: put the egg, cheese and ham between the English muffin halves.

Check out the tasty brown bits on the ham. Oh yes.

Serve!

Seek the opinion of the man at the table.

He takes a bite . . . he chews . . . he ponders . . .

He approves!

Make this sandwich! You will approve too.

And now for something completely different: I was recently reading through my daily blog list, happily perusing Amy’s post on a lovely pasta dish with zucchini and mushrooms. She went on to say that she’d just received a gift from a so-called ‘Fairy Hobmother’ from Appliances Online, and encouraged us to leave a comment on her post since this Fairy might grant us an appliance wish too.

“Who is this Fairy Hobmother person, and why the heck would she send me an appliance?” I asked myself. I followed the link to an online appliance store. “Oh well,” I shrugged, “If they employ a fairy who wants to send me free stuff, I guess I want a juicer.” And I moved on with my life.

When I opened my email on Wednesday, surprise surprise: the Fairy Hobmother has not only decided to send me a juicer, but also says that if any of you all want to leave a comment on this post and make a wish, she may also decide to drop by your digs (figuratively speaking) and send you the appliance you’ve been needin’. Wow. I guess this somehow works out for the appliance company financially . . . but I’m not exactly sure how. Thankfully I don’t have to worry about that. Phew.

Now I can start my day off with Swamp Monster food: blended kale, avocados, carrots, and who knows what else. Maybe a splash of heavy cream, ’cause that’s how I roll.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Ham and Egg Breakfast Sandwich