November 27, 2012 § 6 Comments
So, Thanksgiving is done. How was yours? Oh, you had turkey? And your grandpa said something racist? NEAT!
Anyway, that’s over, and now a month of rampant consumerism and cold winds and awful music about wanting snow and then we get snow and everyone all, SNOW SUCKS IT TOOK ME TWICE AS LONG TO GET TO WORK TODAY.
But look, at least it’s baking weather, amirite? After Thanksgiving, we had some ripened bananas hanging around, because who the shit eats bananas on Thanksgiving. So, I thought, “I’ll make some banana bread, and I’ll put some mother fucking streusel on it.” Because if I had my way, there’d be streusel over everything.
|What You’ll Need||How Much|
|vegetable oil||3/4 c|
|flour, all-purpose or whole grain||2 c|
|baking soda||1 t|
|baking powder||1/2 t|
|For the streusel topping|
|dark brown sugar (make your own!)||3 T|
|flour, all-purpose||1/2 c|
|cold butter, unsalted||5 T|
What You’ll Do
1) I know it’s been awhile, but you all remember me raising hell about getting together your mise en place (see the Glossary if you don’t know French) before you start cooking, yeah? Well, do it.
2) Then, preheat your oven to 325 degrees, and make ready for the goods by lubing up a 9″x5″ loaf pan with some butter or vegetable oil. Use the old school aluminum if you know what’s good for you. Non-stick bakeware is for dummies who like to burn their shit.
3) Now it’s time to get down with the get-down. We’re going to make the streusel. In a medium bowl, combine the 1/2c flour, and 3T each of brown and white sugar. Toss it all together good. Then, cut the butter into it with a pastry cutter until it looks like delicious pea gravel. Like so. Then, set aside in a cool place.
4) Now for the main attraction: in a large bowl, add the sugar and the bananas, and mash the holy goodness out of them. Use a wooden spoon, ya puss. Leave the Kitchen Aid alone for this one.
5) Add the wet ingredients, which is the vegetable oil, vanilla, and eggs, you know, if you’re stupid and don’t know what “wet” means. Stir it all up good, until the oil is well incorporated into the mashed ‘nanners.
6) In another bowl, combine the dry goods: flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Then, dump it all at once into the large bowl of ‘nanner-mixture.
7) Stir this until just incorporated. Stir gently. If you stir too much, even with a wooden spoon, you’ll get the glutens all worked into a tizzy, and you don’t want that. The less tizzied the glutens, the more kick ass the ‘nanner bread.
8) Pour the batter into the greased loaf pan, and dump all that streussely wonderbutter on top.
9) Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.
10) Wait. WAIT! Let it cool about 20-30 minutes in the pan. Use a knife to cut around the edges, and dump it out on to a cutting board.
11) Now, cut’chu off a slice, and put it in your face. Blam.
November 12, 2012 § 1 Comment
As of today, I’m back. Last week, I had a number of people ask me what ever became of this blog. While chatting with the wife about it over the weekend, she came up with an idea: you know, just don’t try to post as often.
Before, I was trying to post three times a week. Now, I’m going to post once a month. Actually, twice. But one of the posts is going to be directing readers to Hobart, an online magazine where I’m currently writing a monthly bourbon column. Some months, I might get frisky and post an extra restaurant review or something, but generally, you can count on at least 2 posts a month here.
So, as the above picture suggests, this return post is about this month’s column at Hobart, wherein I review Dickel No. 12, and have something of a nihlist breakdown. Here’s an excerpt:
This month’s column was going to be about quitting my last job, but what’s the point. It was mostly uninteresting anyway. Everyone was happy for me and I put in my final two weeks without mess or fuss. And let’s face it, that column was likely going to devolve into masturbatory backslapping and pithy advice about working hard and not expecting breaks and all that rot and rubbish.
Tonight, I spent three hours with friends discussing whether we wanted to continue making sandwiches for the Indy poor. Afterwards, I was involved in an argument about whether people from our church should be scolded for parking in spots not actually designated for parking.
In 100 years, the likelihood of either of these conversations being important is slim to nil. The world feels so big and tired and broken.