Wind Pudding, or Pineapple Marshmallow Concoction

This week marks the six month anniversary of this blog, which is pretty cool. That means I've made 72 dishes from the box including 6 cheesecakes (with another on the way this week!), 2 disasters, and one boozy drink.

I've taken a lot of pictures, learned where the best light in my kitchen is, and found a workable substitute for shortening. I got a job, went on holiday (3 times!), and celebrated both an anniversary and a birthday with key lime pie. I've also barely put a dent in the total recipes in the box, but I'm trying to go easy on myself on that front-- it took Eleanor 40 years to collect 'em, so as long as I get through them faster than that, I'm still winning, right?

In honour of the six-month-iversary (demiversary?) of this blog, here's some potty humour for you: Eleanor was so painfully proper that she referred to bodily functions as 'chi-chi' and 'boo-boo.' Even when she was potty-training her own kids, that's the only way she ever referred to using the bathroom. Before you ask, no, I do not know which one was 'chi-chi,' and I'm pretty sure I'm ok with that.* Anyway, I always thought those were the two dumbest names I had ever heard of for anything related to... you know. But then I moved to Scotland and learned the phrase 'trapped wind,' which means... well, I'll leave it to your imagination and just say that it's not fit conversation for a food blog. A co-worker of Judson's taught it to him one day and ever since it's become the Scottish phrase that most cracks us up, despite how gross it is. If you ever come visit us in Scotland, just know that the word wind has a whole different meaning for us now.

So of course when I found a recipe for Wind Pudding in the box, I was immediately as tickled as an 11-year-old boy, especially when I realised it's literally a 3-ingredient recipe that sounds (and, in fact, is) terrible.

When I made this, it was a miserable failure. Although I'll be the first to admit that I regularly suffer from cooking-related mishaps, I have a hard time believing this one was my fault. I really think that marshmallows in Scotland are just different than their American counterparts. Seriously: I think American marshmallows are mostly vegetarian these days, but the ones here-- which are much more delicious, in my humble opinion-- are still made with beef gelatin, which renders them chewier and stiffer than American ones, and, in this case, less likely to melt in pineapple juice. I think the marshmallows in the recipe were supposed to kind of dissolve in the pineapple, then the whipped cream would have made the entire mixture like a creamy Dole Whip. But instead, the marshmallows just swelled slightly, holding their shape and texture, and just sitting on top of the pineapple, which was now extra-dry because the spongey marshmallows soaked up all the juice. It's also possible that the size of the marshmallows contributed to this problem-- mini marshmallows have not yet been invented in Scotland, apparently, so I had to use regular-sized ones. Although the recipe doesn't specify the marshmallows should be miniature, I can't imagine it would have hurt.

Even Judson turned up his nose at this, and Judson loves marshmallows.

In conclusion, I have no idea what the 'wind' in wind pudding is referring to. Was it a reference to the tropical breezes of Florida and the fact that they carry with them the sweet smells of tropical fruit, like pineapples? Or was it referring to the air in the marshmallows? I don't know, and I failed at this recipe, big time. Don't make this recipe. Please.

*As a kid, my mom made the grave mistake of telling me this, and I've still never passed a bottle of Chi-Chi's salsa without giggling.

The verdict:

1 spoon out of five. This is the dumbest recipe that exists.

The recipe:

Wind Pudding

the directions:

Soak marshmallows in pineapple overnight.
The next day, whip the cream.
Fold whipped cream into pineapple mixture gently.
Take a bite and then immediately wish that you hadn't.

the ingredients:

1 can crushed pineapple
1 cup marshmallows
½ c whipped cream

America's Favourite Hot One, or, The BLT Sandwich

'America's favourite hot what?' you may be asking. 'I don't know' is the answer, because this isn't even a hot sandwich.

I suppose it's time for a bit of a confession, dear readers: as a kid, I hated tomatoes, and then I got older and hated mayonnaise, and so the years passed and I made it through almost three whole decades without ever eating a BLT. Well, no more, friends! And now I'm a convert. Except, in this case, BLT actually stands for 'British Lettuce and Tomato,' because, as we've discussed before, American bacon is just not available over here in Scotland. The tomatoes over here are so much better than the ones in the US, though-- sweeter, more flavourful, and cheaper-- so I guess it's an even trade.

Anyway, this is the kind of meal to make on a night where you have fun plans that don't start until late in the evening-- like us, last night. It's simple but filling, and even though there's no way you can consider this a healthy sandwich, at least one of the main ingredients is a vegetable-- so you're not totally off base having it before a night of partying.

Plus, other than 'Tossed Salad, Four Ways,' this is officially my favourite recipe name I've come across so far. And although this is the first time in my life I've garnished a sandwich with an olive, I think from now on I'm going to demand that all my sandwiches come that way. They're at least 13% more delicious than standard sandwiches, so consider it next time you're making your lunch.

If you're in the UK, you can use lardons to make this, like we did, but it might not be the most useful way to make a sandwich since they're so small that they tend to roll out. Alternately, you could buy pancetta in strips and saute it briefly, then use that (which tastes like a thinner, crisper version of American bacon). But most of all, if you're in the UK, don't ever taste American bacon, or you'll never be able to get used to existing in a world without it.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five. This recipe is amazing, and you should go home and make it for dinner immediately. Don't wait 29 and a half years to have your first BLT.

The recipe:

Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato Sandwich

The ingredients:

4 slices of bread
Mayonnaise
2 large lettuce leaves
2 slices cheddar cheese
2 medium-size tomatoes, sliced
4 slices of pancetta or American bacon, or a handful of lardons
4 green olives

the directions:

Toast the bread and spread 2 slices with a thin layer of mayonnaise.
Lay one slice of lettuce on each mayonnaise layer.
Layer slices of cheddar on top of lettuce, followed by tomato, bacon, and the other slices of bread.
Garnish with two olives speared on a toothpick.

Yields 2 sandwiches

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Sunny Morn Sandwich + Bonus Treat!

Well, it's taken me almost six months, but I've realised something unexpected about the recipes from the box. For the most part, the recipes I've made so far are either completely the same as recipes today, with no substitutes necessary, or they are like the 'Bonus Treat' recipe we had for breakfast this weekend, where 2/3 of the ingredients are substitutes because the original either no longer exists or I can't purchase it here in Scotland. Obviously, I knew that I'd have a lot of substitutions, alterations, and tweaks to make to the recipes in the box, but I assumed incorrectly that most recipes would have one (or maybe two at most) substitutions. I wasn't anticipating recipes like this one that required so many substitutions I lost count. But the alterations are the fun part-- I've been brainstorming ways to adapt the salad recipes I keep finding for weeks because I can't get my hands on Ranch or Blue Cheese or French dressing.*

So when I found these two recipes in the box-- one of which is really just 'marmalade on toast,' of course I thought I was in for an easy ride with no substitutions at all. But then I read them both a little closer and realised 'bonus treat' was indeed going to require some ingenuity. Plus, then I remembered that San Francisco was responsible for starting an entire artisan toast movement a couple of years ago, and so I decided these recipes were going to be awesome. And I was right.

When my dad was visiting a few weeks ago, he tried to explain 'date bread' to me. He claimed it was a squishy, dark bread that you had to squeeze out of a container almost like a thick paste-- and based on the picture that accompanies this recipe for 'bonus treat,' I think that must be exactly what the recipe called for. However, as it's no longer the 1960s (much though Donald Trump wishes it was), I can't buy that kind of bread so I used Soreen to make this. If you're in the UK, you probably already know the wonders of Soreen, and I totally recommend this recipe. If you're not over here and have never heard of Soreen, it's a 'fruited malt loaf' made with raisins and malt extract. It's a thick, super dense, dark and chewy loaf of bread with a rich, fruity flavour. Obviously, it's delicious. Since it's made with malt, though, it's full of sugar so probably not an everyday kind of breakfast food. Evidently other flavours besides grape/raisin exist, but this is the only type I've ever seen since moving here. Usually Soreen is eaten with a smear of warmed butter, but for our purposes we had it with cream cheese and plum butter, instead of the currant jelly that the recipe called for. No currant jelly around here, so I used Polish plum butter, which is my current favourite condiment and I put it on everything.

So in the interest of not boring you with two different toast recipes this week, here I present them to you together. Next time you're brainstorming something new to accompany your weekend brunch, give one of these a try-- you won't regret it.

*Grocery stores here do sell something called 'French dressing,' but it's a vinaigrette-type thing, not the red stuff like in the US. I'm not complaining, as the Scottish version is not only less suspect looking than the American stuff, but also more similar to what actual salad dressing tastes like in France. So the fact remains: American-style salad dressings are just not to be had over here.

The verdict:

5 spoons out of five for the 'bonus treat,' 4 spoons out of five for the 'Sunny Morn Sandwich,' partly because it wasn't a sandwich and partly because it's just an incredibly stupid thing to write an entire recipe explaining.

The recipe:

Sunny Morn Sandwich

the directions:

Spread cream cheese on toast.
poon marmalade in a circle in the middle of toast to look like the sun.
Eat it with a cup of hot coffee and a crossword puzzle.

the ingredients:

Slice of your favourite bread, toasted to your preferred degree of brown
Cream Cheese
Marmalade (coarse shred is obviously best, but I'll forgive you for using the fine-shredded stuff)

THE RECIPE:

Bonus Treat

THE DIRECTIONS:

Slice a thick piece of bread.
Spread it with cream cheese.
Add jam and enjoy.

THE INGREDIENTS:

Malt loaf or other date/raisin bread
Cream cheese
Polish plum butter, currant jam, or similar