June 02, 2015

Crunchy Pea Salad

June 02, 2015/ Blair Cowan

Luncheon, like medication, handbag, and pinochle, has always been a word I associate only with old people. But no longer, because now, for no specific reason, I will always associate the word 'luncheon' with this stuffed tomato salad.

Remember when I told you about how there are only two non-mayonnaise based salad recipes in the box? Well, this is one of the mayonnaise ones. Technically, it's supposed to be made with Miracle Whip, but for several reasons, which I shall enumerate below, I chose instead to make this with mayonnaise. Here are those reasons:

A) I find mayonnaise to be utterly disgusting. So disgusting, in fact, that I can't tell the difference between it and Miracle Whip, because I have never tasted either one by itself (shudder), but they have the same bottle, general colours, and texture, so I've always assumed they were basically the same.
B) I couldn't find Miracle Whip at the grocery store here, and I tried two different shops. This is not to say it doesn't exist in Britain, but I couldn't find it and I knew Judson and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference, so here we are.
C) Did I mention how gross I think mayonnaise is? I'm literally feeling ill just sitting here writing about it.

Anyway, I decided to make this recipe because the tomatoes here in the UK, by Judson's calculations, are 238% better than those in America. Science has not yet determined why this is, since the British climate is hardly suited for tomatoes, but it's true. So when we visited the farmer's market on Saturday (usually a weekly activity, but we've missed the last month) and I spotted these still-on-the-vine bright yellow beauties, I knew it was time for... Crunchy Pea Salad.

This dish just begs to be served on a leaf of iceberg lettuce, with a glass of iced tea, and a dessert of... I don't know, because I was only around for half of the 1980s, but maybe some kind of black forest thing? Basically, if you were ever teleported to a 1980s baby shower, I am pretty confident this would be what you ate while you were there.

Strangely, the peanuts (what I was most worried about) were actually not bad, and the salad was astoundingly crunchy (all except the peas), which was also really surprising. However, I'm not a big fan of beefsteak tomatoes, even if they are yellow, and I really don't like mayonnaise, so I'm gonna have to stick with a fairly low verdict on this. Possibly part of the problem is that we tried to make this a main course when it should have just been a starter, but still, I wouldn't advise you make it unless you like mayo more than I do. If you DO like mayonnaise, though, give this a whirl, because the art of stuffing a tomato is a dying one, and I shouldn't be the only person carrying that torch into the year 2016.

the verdict:

2 spoons out of five. The flavour was great, and it was kind of fun to eat a stuffed tomato, but by the time I was halfway through, I was pretty done with mayonnaise altogether. Judson, ever the good sport and less hateful toward mayonnaise than I, concurs with the two spoon rating. But if you ever find yourself hosting a Ladies' Luncheon from a bygone era, this is truly the recipe for you.

The recipe:

Crunchy Pea Salad

THE DIRECTIONS:

Pour Italian dressing into a medium-sized mixing bowl, then add red onion and stir well.
Add mayo or Miracle Whip and stir well until smooth like yogurt (this will take a few minutes).
Add remaining ingredients and stir gently until well-blended.
Turn tomatoes upside down and slice almost all the way through, in eighths.
Using a small spoon, fill tomatoes with salad and serve.

Yields 8 starter portions or 4 main course portions, if you really like mayonnaise.

the ingredients:

¼ – 1/3 c Miracle Whip or mayonnaise
¼ c Italian dressing
10 oz frozen peas, cooked and chilled
1 c celery, chopped
1 c peanuts
4 oz lardons or bacon, cooked until crisp
¼ c red onion, chopped
Black pepper to taste
8 medium to large-sized tomatoes

June 01, 2015

Mrs. Rhymes' Lemon Squares

June 01, 2015/ Blair Cowan

Over the weekend, a fellow ex-pat friend of ours had a party to celebrate the fact that he just got his British citizenship. Judson and I went to celebrate with him, masking our jealousy with big smiles, cheap beer, and a batch of lemon squares. When we arrived at the party (which, with great irony and sass, he had themed as an American cookout), his British friends asked us jokingly (over and over) if we were 'ashamed' of him for defecting.

But no matter how many times they asked, it never ceased to shock either of us-- 'ASHAMED?' we would reply, shocked and confused. 'How could we be ashamed? We're just jealous!'*

Anyway, the party involved a whole roast pig, about a hundred boxes of cupcakes, beer pong, cornhole, and Jimmy Eat World songs. In short, it was the most American event I've been to in at least two years.

(It also involved a lot of Pimm's and haggis; Judson and I had to explain the rules to cornhole about a dozen times; the Brits refused to use actual beer to play beer pong with because 'the ball will make the beer dirty before we drink it;' and despite being the last weekend in May, the temperature never rose above 20C/68F, so it wasn't an altogether American party.)

So, in preparation for the party, when I found out we were tasked with bringing a side dish, I knew it was my chance to make a proper American dessert, and that was how I ended up making lemon squares-- my favourite dessert as a teenager. But I've never made lemon squares before, and I was nervous about the curd once I realised it wasn't cooked. Plus, I didn't have the right size dish or a pretty serving platter to take them to the party on... then we walked into the house and saw that someone had provided dozens of boxes of cupcakes from a professional bakery in our neighbourhood... and all we had to offer was a foil-covered cookie sheet covered in powdered sugar. I was embarrassed immediately; no one wants to be the person who brings the dish to the party that no one eats.

But as I set down the platter and pulled back the foil, the host walked by and immediately gasped 'ARE THOSE LEMON SQUARES?!' before grabbing a corner piece and taking a sweet/sour bite. 'THIS,' he said to everyone within earshot, 'THIS is the taste of an American cookout. You have to try one of these, they're my FAVOURITE!' And before I knew it, the cookie sheet was half-empty, and all around me people were covered in a light dusting of powdered sugar, licking it off of their fingers and shaking it off their shirts.

And THAT'S why I don't have any finished pictures of the squares to show you. But seriously, that's how you host a party. I don't know who Mrs. Rhymes was (chances are, Eleanor didn't either as this is just a newspaper clipping dating back several decades), but her lemon squares, with a few moderations, are great. The crust is crumbly, buttery, and delicious, and the filling is just sour enough to deserve a generous dusting of powdered sugar.

The crust, after mixing thoroughly, will be sandy in texture and not stick together at all. Be not dismayed! Just press it into your pan and thank me later.

*Mom: before you panic, understand we're only jealous because it means he never has to apply for another visa. Don't worry, we're not applying for dual citizenship yet.

The verdict:

4 spoons out of five. Once I made the modifications listed below to make the quantities more reasonable, the final product was delicious. (Before modifying the quantities, I ended up with 2/3 more crust than I needed and only 2/3 as much filling as I wanted.) I prefer my lemon squares a little more tart, but Judson thought they were perfect as-is. If you want a slightly more tart square, use one less egg and ¼ c more lemon juice.