Let's Wait Awhile

I finally got a request for one of the cheesecakes that I donated to the white elephant auction at my church last fall, so I made it this weekend. I think this might be the most perfect cheesecake I've ever made:

This is Mother of Ken's recipe:

For the crust--

1 1/4 c. graham cracker crumbs

3 tbsp. melted butter

1 tbsp. sugar

Combine all ingredients and press into the bottom of a greased spring form pan.

For the filling--

3 pkgs. softened cream cheese

1 c. sugar

1 tsp. almond extract (or, in my case, vanilla)

1 tsp. Amaretto (I substituted Kahlua)

3 eggs

Beat cream cheese and sugar at high speed until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time. Add almond or vanilla flavoring and liqueur. Pour into pan. Bake at 450 degrees for 20 minutes.

This makes a great cheesecake every time with a creamy texture--not the cakey, dry kind that you sometimes get at restaurants. It was certainly a hit with the people who won it and ate it last night.

Dynasty: In Memoriam

Ken and McKenna regret to acknowledge the death of the late, great John Forsythe. We will always remember him as Blake Carrington and we raise a glass of Dom Perignon in his memory.

Obsession

This week's favorite thing, in honor of spring and the unusually warm air here in central New York is pansies. Pansies are my favorite flower (also violas, which look like tiny pansies). I especially love the purple/periwinkle ones.

When I lived at home with Mother and Father of Ken, I had my very own pansy garden on the side of the house and one year, I was able to find black pansies for my garden. They were actually a really dark purple, but they were beautiful against the lighter purple and white ones.

Pansies are such happy flowers in such beautiful colors--how can you resist? I especially love the subtle imperfections in each bloom that make them interesting to look at. They're also ridiculously easy to grow, particularly in places like central New York that are fairly chilly for most of the year. Perfect for a non-gardener like me who still likes to be surrounded by flowers.

Happy spring, gentle readers!

We're Not Gonna Take It: The Limp, Dead Fish Handshake

I am instituting a new feature on this blog--an occasional post about things that annoy me. Anyone who knows me knows that I am, among other things, impatient, detail-oriented, a perfectionist, and, as Mother of Ken so nicely puts it, I "don't suffer fools gladly." I've been thinking about doing this for a while, but I was afraid it would be too negative. I have now decided that while it may be negative, most of my posts are positive or at least somewhat humorous, so any negativity will be balanced by the "upbeat and positive" nature of my other posts. Plus, this is my blog and I get to decide what I post. Sometimes you just need to vent. Feel free, gentle readers, to join in the conversation and to tell me what things annoy you.

The first thing that I am going to write about is the limp, dead fish handshake. I. Despise. This. If you are going to make the effort to shake someone's hand, then do it with some conviction. There is nothing worse than shaking someone's hand when the result is a clammy, limp waste of flesh suddenly shoved into your grip that you are forced to support because the person belonging to the hand refuses to do so. This is true for any situation. This has happened to me in professional settings, while passing the peace at church (not exactly handshaking, but still meant to be meaningful contact with another human being), at parties, with people young and old, with women and men--there does not seem to be any rhyme or reason as to why certain people choose to employ the dead fish handshake. I'll make this easy on people who are confused--never do this! Support your own hand, grip the other person's hand firmly, and shake hands like you mean it.

Grandfather of Ken worked on handshakes with me and Brother of Ken while we were still in the hospital, I think. I remember being drilled on proper handshaking technique before I went to school because "you need to know how to do it correctly!" Bear in mind that Grandfather of Ken was a giant Viking in a priest's collar and he had huge, strong hands. This is a skill best learned from someone who is intimidating, but who loves you. His instructions were:

1. Look the person in the eye very clearly.

2. Extend your hand and keep it in line with the rest of your arm.

3. Grip the other person's hand firmly, but don't squeeze so hard that you hurt them, especially if they are old and/or feeble.

4. If it is a dead fish handshake and you need more support, use your left hand as well.

5. Do not hold someone's hand for too long, but do not let go immediately.

This is not difficult. Practice if you're uncomfortable, but I can't think of any reason not to know how to shake someone else's hand with conviction. If you're shaking my hand and telling me that it is nice to meet me, then show me that you mean it! A good, strong handshake has gotten me pretty far in my 28 years and I think that women, especially if they are young, really need to have a strong handshake to let others know that they are not to be trifled with.

All Over the World

Okay, not all over the world--just Greece. What am I talking about? Well, if you must know, Friday was the annual bake sale at the Greek Orthodox Church around the corner from my church and you know that Ken was there with plenty of cash reasonably early in the morning (not at 7, when it opened, but soon thereafter). I was under strict orders from Mother and Father of Ken to purchase plenty of food for them to enjoy when they come to visit in a few weeks.

So, what did I get? Spanakopita, of course:

Also plenty of baklava:

And they talked me into a tiropita (cheese pie), which I ate for lunch with one of the spanakopita:

Everything else I wrapped carefully and put into the freezer. I'm really trying not to think about the fact that there is baklava in my freezer...

The story doesn't end there, though. I somehow ended up being responsible for preparing the lamb for the reenactment of the Seder that we do at church every Palm Sunday. A friend offered to help me with this process, so I made lunch for us to eat before we tackled the lamb preparation. We had spinach and clementine salad with clementine vinaigrette and ham and cheese quiche.

Okay, so the lamb. This just happens to be a Greek recipe for leg of lamb that we use every year. I lost my copy of the recipe, so I'll try to remember all of the details here. We had to prep three five pound legs of lamb (boned and rolled) for our dinner--each leg feeds about ten people with fairly generous portions. I'm giving you the recipe for one 3-5 lb. leg.

First, you have to cut cloves of garlic into slivers (for one leg, you'll probably need 3/4 to a whole head of garlic). Then, you have to poke holes in the lamb about an inch apart and put a sliver of garlic into each hole. The original recipe says to use skewers, but that was not working for us, so we used my smallest paring knives and that was much better.

Once the lamb is stuffed with garlic, you rub it all over with two tablespoons of dried oregano (Greek if you can find it) and one teaspoon of dried thyme. The recipe calls for "salt and pepper" with no measurement, so I would just mix about two teaspoons of salt and one teaspoon of black pepper into the herbs and rub all of it onto the lamb at the same time.

The next step is to put the lamb into a container or plastic bag to marinate. The marinade is four tablespoons of fresh lemon juice, 1/2 c. olive oil, and 1 c. dry white wine. Marinate the meat for several hours (ours got about 18), turning the meat several times.

Finally, roast the meat at 350 degrees for about 2 hours (depending on how "done" you like the meat and how thick it is--I would go by temperature, probably 160-170 degrees).

Here is our lamb after 18 hours, ready to be transported to the church:

This is such a good recipe for lamb, I can't even tell you--there is so much flavor, but you don't taste the marinade or the herbs or the garlic specifically, those ingredients just enhance the flavor of the meat. I don't always love lamb, but I could eat this every day. Try this--you won't be disappointed. You could also adapt the recipe for use with other cuts of lamb.

Also, I was able to put the electric knife that Grambi sent me to good use. After watching our priest hack at the lamb last year, I decided to take control of the carving and use my electric knife for the sake of speed since we had thirty hungry people waiting to eat.

We also had baked potatoes and green beans, but the lamb was the best part of the meal.

I love Greek food...

Obsession

This week's favorite thing is the chocolate ice cream soda. I happen to be the great granddaughter of one of the greatest druggists and soda fountain operators in history. My great grandfather, Merlin Arthur (that really was his name, although we called him G.G.), had a drug store in Kansas City where he had an awesome soda fountain. I don't know why we don't have more of those around today--I would go all of the time. Anyway, he taught my grandmother who taught my dad who taught me how to make the most fabulous chocolate sodas. G.G. had his own recipe for chocolate syrup that is top secret--the original is now in the hands of Brother of Ken, who guards it with his life.

When I moved to Maryland for college, I found out that lots of people on the east coast had never heard of a chocolate ice cream soda, so I had to teach them all about it. We used to eat these for dinner when the other food was too horrible for words.

Start with a glass full of vanilla ice cream:

Then add chocolate syrup (I had to use Hershey's this time because I didn't have any already made):

Finish with club soda:

Delicious!

Try it sometime if you've never had one. If you've had one before, but it's been a while, celebrate spring with a yummy ice cream soda.