• Apricot ears

    Our apricots are done; my sister-in-law’s are not.

    I dried apricots; my sister-in-law is borrowing our food dehydrator so she can dry her apricots.

    I am posting about dried apricots so that my sister-in-law will know what to do; I am posting about dried apricots so I will remember how to do it next year because it is my custom to forget everything I ever learned. And then some.

    I hope I remember, come next apricot season, to check the blog.


    Dried apricots are good. Chewy, sour, sweet. My uncle calls them “ears.” They’re kind of ugly, but so is a bunch of other food, though I can’t think of any examples at present. Besides, aesthetics are overrated. It all goes to mush in the belly anyway.

    Drying Apricots

    Tear washed apricots in half and remove the pit.

    Flatten the apricot, pushing up on the curved part with your thumb and pushing down on the cut part with your fingers. Come, I’ll show you.

    Get in position…


    Smoosh.


    Thanks, hon, for taking the pictures. It tested your patience mightily, I know, but you hung in there and clicked the camera five whole times, only two of which weren’t fuzzy. You’re the best.


    And speaking of “hon.” Last night Mr. Handsome and I were in the kitchen when in ran The Baby Nickel. He started rummaging in one of the drawers in search of a cup. I asked, “What are you guys doing?”

    “Playing Honey.”

    “Huh?” Mr. Handsome and I asked in unison.

    He stopped digging long enough to turn his head toward us and then, speaking slowly and clearly, he rephrased his answer: “We’re playing Mother and Father.”

    Back to the apricots. Lay the apricots peel-side down on the trays.


    Dry till pliable but no longer juicy-wet, about 10-12 hours in my dehydrator.


    Pack the wrinkly ears into jars and freeze.


    One of my dehydrator loads yields three-plus quarts, stuffed.

    And since I’m on the subject of apricots, let me tell you what else we did with them.

    *Sweet and sour jam.

    *Cook jam.

    *Freezer jam FAIL.


    *Canned apricots: firm-ripe ‘cots torn in half and put in a jar (not even all pretty like you’re supposed to) and then smacked down tight by banging the jar on a wadded up towel, plus 1/4 cup sugar and some water, and then processed for five minutes (bring canner’s water to a slow boil and then boil very gently for five minutes cause you don’t want the apricots to turn to mush).


    *Canned apricot puree: all the apricots that are no longer firm (but not rotted), torn in half and pitted and then smooooooshed into jars with a fork and canned for ten minutes at a medium boil. No need to add sugar or water. Upon opening the jars, I’ll blender them up real good and then thicken the sauce with sugar and Therm Flo. The resulting apricot puree is super rich. We’ll eat it over ice cream, in smoothies, or I’ll use it as the filling for these bars.

    About one year ago: Red Beet Greens. I have next to no red beets in the garden this year. I’m sad.
    About two years ago: What my kids look like when they drink soda.

  • Clues, cold baths, cream, etc.

    About that new endeavor I mentioned last month. Not a one of you guessed it, but I’m not surprised. I’ll generously give you some clues:

    1. Bent knees.
    2. A basement room.
    3. Tick-tock. Pop.
    4. Women only.
    5. Middle Eastern.
    6. Huge mirror.
    7. Jangly, shimmery.
    8. Achy sore.

    NOW do you get it?

    In other news, last night it was so hot that I ate an ice cream cone while soaking in a cold bath.

    Aaaaand, there is no rain in the forecast and I am depressed. And feeling crispy around the edges. The garden is full of impossible-to-pull, tree-sized weeds. It all may just shrivel up and die and I don’t care.

    Aaaaand, I finished canning the apricots.

    Aaaaand, Goat Cheese Whipped Cream, yes indeed.
    From Epicurious


    I mentioned I was going to try it, and then I did. The goat cheese stabilizes the cream and gives it a depth of flavor without overwhelming. The whole family loves it. Excellent served with fruity desserts.

    3 ounces soft goat cheese (not feta)
    1 ½ cups heavy whipping cream
    1/4 cup powdered sugar
    ½ teaspoon vanilla

    Whip together till soft peaks form.

    Aaaaand, several weeks ago my dad showed the kids this video. Today the kids disappeared into the barn and erected their own physics experiment.

    1. Push a bike tire down a makeshift wooden track.
    2. Watch as the tire crashes into a piece of plywood.
    3. The plywood falls over and lands on a rake handle, pushing it down and launching a ball that is balanced on the other end of the rake.
    4. The rake also takes to the air, flies back towards the audience, and crashes to the floor.
    5. Much cheering ensues.

    The kids realized they were in danger of damaging their tender noggins, so they donned helmets and pillows and even went so far as to build a roofed and walled observation fort.

    One year ago: The Miss Beccaboo Reading Situation. No tidy conclusion just yet.
    Two years ago: A Fallacy.

  • For the sexy June fruit

    It was Saturday morning and I was up to my eyeballs in apricots. That I was canning and jamming to beat the band wasn’t enough, oh-HO-no. I also had to try my hand at an apricot sorbet and a honey-roasted apricot ice cream, and then, just to put myself over the top, throw in an apricot cake, too. (Plus, I threw together a full-blown lunch of sweet and sour beef—using an apricot jam I made earlier—with cabbage, rice, and a zucchini skillet.)


    This, after a week of baking a passel of apricot goodies: apricot crostata, apricot crisp, apricot crumble, apricot upside down cake, and that apricot sweet and sour jam. (And lest you be confused, the jam didn’t involve baking, but it was apricot.) There was also a dehydrator load of apricots and a failed recipe of apricot freezer jam. (Don’t ever try the apricot freezer jam that comes in the pectin box. It will make you pull out all your hair and call your aunt, the apricot canning queen, three times in one day. Consider yourself warned.)

    The reason there’s been so much apricot tomfoolery going on in my kitchen is because I don’t really know what to do with the little plump critters when they come rolling in my door. I deal with fresh apricots only once a year and then I’m so busy preserving them that, before I know it, the apricots are all packed into jars without me ever learning how to cook with the sexy fresh ones. This year I determined not to miss my chances. I’d make as many apricot recipes as I could, and I would, by hook or by apricot crook, find something splendid.


    And I have: this cake, the one I made on Saturday morning, a Honeyed Apricot Almond Cake.

    It’s like this: a thick batter comprised of ground-up almonds, some whole wheat flour, and a healthy flurry of nutmeg.


    Then, a large handful of apricots cut in half and nestled cut-side up atop the batter, their little hollows drizzle-filled with honey.


    Finally, after a turn in the oven in which the apricots settle to the bottom (or perhaps only halfway down), a cake that, to all appearances is as plain as plain can be.

    It’s anything but.


    Bespeckled with almond flecks, rich with nutmeg and butter, and tangy-sweet from the occasional apricot, this cake is what I will make every single June when apricots are in season, forever and ever, amen.


    Honeyed Apricot Almond Cake
    Adapted from A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg

    ½ cup butter, at room temperature
    1 cup sugar
    3 eggs
    1/4 teaspoon vanilla
    1/2 cup milk
    1/3 cup whole wheat pastry flour
    2/3 cup all-purpose flour
    1/4 teaspoon salt
    2 teaspoons baking powder
    1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
    3/4 cup whole almonds, ground to a fine meal in a blender
    5 large, or 7 small, fresh apricots, torn in half, pits removed
    1-2 tablespoons honey

    In a medium-sized bowl, stir together the almond meal, flours, salt, baking powder, and nutmeg.

    In a small bowl, combine the milk and vanilla.

    In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar, then add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the dry ingredients alternately with the milk, beginning and ending with the dry.

    Grease a 9 or 10-inch cake, or springform, pan (you can see that mine, a 9-inch tart pan, got filled to the brim and nearly overflowed) and pour in the batter, smoothing it out with a spatula. Arrange the apricot halves on top and drizzle a little honey into their hollows.

    Bake the cake at 350 degrees for about 30-40 minutes, until the cake’s center no longer wobbles and a wooden skewer pierced in the middle comes out clean.

    Cool for ten minutes, run a knife around the rim of the pan, and then cool the rest of the way. Serve as is, or gussy it up with a flurry of powdered sugar and a dollop of whipped cream.

    Yield: one 9 (or 10)-inch cake. Stores well for a couple days, covered with plastic, at room temperature, but if leftovers linger longer, it should be transferred to the fridge to prevent the apricots from souring.

    Updated on June 30, 2010: use more apricots, perhaps four to six whole ones. Make sure to use a bigger pan, a ten-inch springform would probably be perfect.

    About one year ago: Oregano, Garlic, and Lemon Roast Chicken with Potatoes and Asparagus and A Sketchy Character
    About two years ago: Brown Bread, Simple Granola (it’s central to our existence, and it’s what my kids will think of when they remember home), and the spit rag. Aaaaand, Fancy Granola and French Chocolate Granola. Beware of the French chocolate granola. Be very aware.