red, white and root beer

The Fourth of July has one of my favorite holidays since childhood -- including the time in fifth grade when I asked somewhat what date the Fourth was going to be.

So I wanted to mark the unforgettable date with special food, but I didn't much feel like making any pies, or flag pizzas, or what have you. (Especially no red, white and blue jello molds. No thank you.) I had a hunch I might pass the day without (gasp) baking anything.

But then inspiration struck...in the form of THIS heavenly stuff.

Shatto Root Beer Milk.

I've never been a big fan of root beer -- I used to think root beer floats were disgusting. But somehow, this creamy concoction bypassed my memory of awkwardly floaty, fizzy chunks of blech and won my heart. In one fell swoop (or a couple dreamy sips), I knew what had to be done.

Root beer ice cream. How much more American can you get?!

My good friend Google led my fellow dreamer and I to a recipe; Price Chopper donated some Root Beer concentrate to the cause (okay, sold for a small fee); and a few cups of whole milk and heavy cream later, we had ourselves a hefty tub of all-American bliss. And a spatula begging to be licked.

But...

A bowl of ice cream just doesn't seem that American. For one thing, you can't eat a bowl of ice cream without utensils. And since Americans are always on the run, we need some fast, hand-held food.  It's all about the convenience.  Plus, there's something both s'more-like and whoopie-like that's way cuter than a bowl of ice cream.

Mmhmm-- an ice cream sandwich.

So, I made some chocolate-toffee cookies, sandwiched that ice cream right on in there, and smiled as the sparks flew and crowds cheered.  (In my head.)

Happy Birthday, America. You are special, and I like your foods. Please don't take it too personally that I'm reading that one book about you.

Love,

Lauren

on toons & pop-tarts

I like baking. That's no secret to most people reading this blog.

A few friends have said I should start a food blog, which I definitely should not do (because I don't cook often enough, and my photography's not that good, and the list goes on...). But I'm still charmed by the idea.

Well, a few days ago, I was similarly charmed by a recipe via Smitten Kitchen for mini homemade pop-tarts.

So I made 'em.

And took pictures of them.

And then, after pondering long and hard and sitting inside on a rainy night...I decided to blog about them.

(And so begins a maybe-possibly, we'll-see-how-it-goes, not-making-any-promises, foodish-bloggy-thing.)

***

I spent a lot of hours on these little tartlets. And while biting into one, I'd tell you it was worth it. Most of the rest of the time, though, like while washing the food processor for the 3rd time or waiting at 2:00am for the tarts to finish chilling before baking, I'd recommend you coerce a friend into making them for you.

They're not easy.

Still, rather like fussy newborn babies, their cuteness compels you to raise them right. Mine didn't turn out quite as cute as SK's, but the flaky crust had something crazy-good going for it (we'll call it "butter"), and the at-a-glance factor was aww-inspiring. Couple the tender, yet sturdy exterior with three tasty fillings -- Nutella for the first two batches, then apricot-strawberry jam and blackberry jam -- and you've got 64 tiny tartlets and one sleep-deprived yet self-satisfied momma cook.

Admittedly, I wouldn't haul out my rolling pin this many times for just any occasion. It helped that I knew these pop-tarts were going to feed a fun batch of friends after one of the best mornings on record: cartoon-watching + cereal-eating in the film vault of the downtown library.

It was a morning I'll hold on to for a long while.

(Nostalgic toaster pastries, on the other hand, shouldn't be held on to for much more than a week, stored in an airtight container.)