Carb-Loading for Marathon Watchers

Nine times out of 10, when someone makes the crack, "Time to make the doughnuts," it gets a laugh. Okay, maybe a chuckle. At least a smirk. I'm not sure if that's because the mustachioed Dunkin' Donuts worker from the commercial was just that hilarious and beloved, or because the phrase is usually uttered when it's way too early to be doing whatever mundane task you're being forced to do. Last weekend, on the morning of the NYC marathon, I rolled out of bed at 7:30 a.m. and said "Time to make the doughnuts" out loud to no one in particular. I laughed a little bit, partly because of my nostalgia for a great mustache, and partly because I was 100 percent serious, which probably makes me a total dork. BUT, a dork who makes doughnuts is dork easily forgiven.

The NYC marathon is one of my favorite events of the year: The weather is usually the perfect fall mix of sunny yet crisp, the neighborhoods lining the marathon route are loaded with enthusiastic and creative fans, and the event gives me agreat excuse to invite friends to brunch!

Brunch usually starts out on the marathon sidelines with homemade scones (because cheerers need to carb-load too!). This year, it was bacon-maple scones that gave us the energy to cheer for roughly 90 minutes before we reached our mile 26 and had to walk to my place for mimosas and more brunch. Scrambled eggs are an easy post-marathon brunch food to whip up quickly, and they went well with the sausage inwine sauce recipe of my dad's. The highlight of the brunch, however, was the doughnuts. Homemade doughnuts! I made them!

This concept sort of blows my mind. Doughnuts are such a perfect food, it seems like they should always be created by someone else. Someone professional. Still, about 10 years back, I found this recipe for pumpkin doughnuts with powdered sugar glaze and spiced sugar doughnut holes, and it didn't seem all that complicated. And, frankly,it wasn't. I made the dough the night before the marathon and shaped them on the morning of. The only adjustment I made to the recipe was adding ginger and cinnamon to the powdered sugar glaze, and making my spiced sugar with cinnamon and ginger instead of cinnamon and nutmeg. I made sure to keep a close eye on the thermometer in the oil, too, as I was a bit paranoid about a hot oil mishap. But, overall, the recipe was a snap. A dangerous, dangerous snap. The finished doughnuts were delicious (and adorable). I suggest training like a marathon runner if you are going to have this recipe in your possession. (Training to be a marathon eater won't be a problem.)

Yes.Yes! YES!!!

It's been a while, yes, and I will not do that thing your friends do where they tell you they've been sooooooo busy and that's why they haven't called/emailed/hung out, when all they've really been doing is upping their score on computer solitaire and watching bad TV while you've been working three jobs and putting yourself through grad school. I will, however, say hello (Hello!) and offer you a recipe that I think might be the greatest thing I've ever done. Notice I said the greatest thing I've ever done. Not baked, done. I'm serious; this probably trumps anything I've ever accomplished in school, at work, and in all those other places where one typically receives accolades. I give you...

Maple-Bacon Cupcakes with.... (wait for it)... Maple-Bourbon Frosting. Awwwwwww yeah.

I made these for a friend's going-away/birthday party last weekend, and, to give you an idea of the reception they got, please note that when I simply told the party what they were, a stranger hugged me. This cupcake has a perfect salty-sweet-alcohol balance, and is particularly interesting because you can taste the smokiness of the bacon throughout. Honestly, unless you add a hot tub and a pile of cash, I don't know how anything in life could be better than these.

Maple-Bacon Cupcakes with Maple-Bourbon Frosting

For the cupcakes:

1 pound bacon

2 1/2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon sale

1 stick unsalted butter (minus about a half tablespoon), room temp.

1 tablespoon bacon grease (reserved from cooking bacon, cooled to harden)

1/2 cut light brown sugar

2 large eggs

1 1/4 cup grade B maple syrup

1/2 cup buttermilk/sour milk (1/2 cup milk mixed with 1.5 tsp vinegar, let sit for 10 min)

2 teaspoons vanilla (honestly, I can't remember if I added this or not. Use your judgment.)

1. Cook the bacon. Save the drippings and allow them to cool in the fridge until they have a butter-like consistency. Mince cooled bacon to bacon-bit-size pieces. You should wind up with about a cup of chopped bacon.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

3. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt together. Set aside.

4. Beat the butter, bacon grease and sugar on medium speed in a large bowl until fluffy. Add eggs, syrup and (maybe?) vanilla.

5. Alternate mixing in the flour mixture with the buttermilk. Start with about a third of the flour, then a third of the buttermilk, etc.

6. Stir in about half of the bacon. (The other half will be sprinkled on top.)

7. Fill cupcake tins about 3/4 way full.

8. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Cool completely.

For the frosting:

1 stick butter (8 tablespoons, that is)

3 cups powdered sugar

about 1/2 cup grade b maple syrup

about 1/2 cup bourbon (I used Maker's Mark)

1. Beat butter in mixer fit with paddle attachment.

2. Add powdered sugar in a little at a time to incorporate. You may need to scrape the butter from the bowl every so often.

3. Add in 1/4 cup of maple syrup and 1/4 cup of bourbon (taste frequently to get the right balance of flavor -- you may choose to go more bourbon-heavy, or more syrup-heavy). Continue adding a combination of both until you reach desired consistency for spreading.

4. Frost cupcakes and sprinkle with remaining minced bacon.

Liquid Crack

Dear, sweet, perfect dulce de leche, how I love you. You are silky and golden and simple and versatile and freaking delicious. I remember the night we met. I was being served dessert at an Argentinian restaurant in Soho, NYC, you were wrapped inside a crepe, waiting to ooze out and be devoured. And devoured you were. Decorum kept me from licking you off the plate right then and there, but I wanted to. Oh how I wanted to. I was in awe of you, dulce de leche. Lovedrunk. Smitten.

Since then, your name has shown up in many other desserts and in many recipes. Often times, the recipes call for "store bought" dulce de leche. But that seems so cheap and tawdry. You're better than that. You deserve to be cared for by me from beginning to end. And so, I scoured the internet for ways to bring you into my life once again. What I discovered was shocking. Who would have believed that such a beautiful and rich sweet young thing like yourself could be so easy??? Frankly, dulce de leche, I'm SHOCKED. But I still love you. And I always will. And once I give your recipe to the Internet, so will they.

And so, Internet, meet dulce de leche. Dulce de leche, meet Internet.

DULCE DE LECHE in your CROCKPOT- THE EASIEST AND MOST DELICIOUS RECIPE EVER:

1. Buy a can of sweetened condensed milk. (Stay away from Eagle, because I think that brand has a waxy inside of the can, which may melt.) Actually, buy TWO cans. Or three. Or twelve.
2. Take the label off the can(s).
3. Put a piece of tin foil on the bottom of your crock pot.
4. Put the can(s) on top of the tin foil.
5. Put enough water in the crock pot to cover the can(s) completely.
6. Turn your crock pot on low.
7. Leave it for 8 hours or so. (I accidentally let mine go for 11, and it was just fine!)
8. Turn crock pot off.
9. Leave the can(s) in the crock pot, with the water, for several more hours to cool.
10. Take can(s) out.
11. Open can.
12. Taste with spoon.
13. Try to not eat the whole thing in one sitting.

Dulce de leche can be used for tons of things. In addition to wrapping it up in a crepe, you could also drizzle it over ice cream, mix it into brownies, jazz up some frosting, or sandwich it between some alfajores (add some orange zest to the recipe, trust me), like these:

All I can say now is, you’re welcome. Or, I’m sorry.

Inner Soccer Mom

Last week, NYC public schools had a snow day. Snackhands thought a great way to spend this unexpected free time would be to bake sugar cookies, an experiment I have put off for way too long. That's why it's nice to be a teacher -- you can bake ANYTHING, and you have willing taste-testers who will gush all over whatever you feed them. I love a good sugar cookie, but hadn't found the right time to test them out myself. The snow day was pretty close to Valentine's day, so voila! I used this recipe for the cookies (I did one and a half recipes and wound up with about a hundred cookies) and this one for the glaze. I decorated them with royal icing (recipe below). They turned out pretty awesome, and the girls were THRILLED.

Anyone who wants to hire me and my soccer mom abilities can email me at snackhands@nyc.rr.com. For an extra fee, you can tell the other soccer moms that, yes, you made and decorated the cookies yourself!

Royal Icing (great for decorating because it dries hard):

3 egg whites

1/4 tsp. cream of tartar

1 pound powdered sugar, sifted

Food coloring, optional

Beat egg whites and cream of tartar until foamy. Gradually beat in sugar, then beat at high speed until very thick and glossy. (Beaters should leave sharpt, firm peaks.) Add food coloring to desired effect. Cover bowl with damp cloth to prevent "crusting."

*This recipe makes enough to decorate an 8, 9 or 10 inch cake. Or to decorate 100 cookies.

Mutiny in Heaven

Right now, if I were to step out into the mean streets of NYC and be struck down by a wayward taxicab, I would die a happy woman. Because tonight, I met Nick Cave.

Without going into all the gushy background about how and why this is such a big deal, let me just say that Nick's music is gritty and scratchy and heavy and guttural and funny and picturesque and dark and and and. I heard it for the first time when I was 19, and while I don't think I quite got this at the time, it was like finding something I didn't know I was searching for. My friend M is the person responsible for playing it for me back then and, as a result, I credit him with 40-60 percent of my musical taste and development, and probably should thank him for a large majority of my personality and other sensibilities as well. Not to put too fine a point on it, but before I heard Nick Cave, I could have easily continued heading down a simple suburban road, happily tapping my foot to whatever Boyz to Men followups that came along. But after Nick Cave... there was a whole lot more to think about, look for and feel.

Enough gushing. Tonight, he was signing copies of his new novel. I was there. I stood in line. I stumbled over my semi-prepared "It's really incredible to meet you right now." He signed my book. He shook my hand twice. He was lovely.

This is my second in Nick Cave milestones within the last year. Some months ago, I also saw him in concert for the first time, and was giddy for weeks afterward. Around the same time, M and I (in another one of our Back-to-Nick obsessive phases) were having drinks in my kitchen. Whether it was a result of the music in the background or the alcohol in the foreground, we were struck with genius. Nick Cave drinks. Yes. Yes!

With the precision of junkyard chemists, we concocted the following drinks, and then, based on their flavor, color and general effect on our faculties, gave them names culled from favorite Nick Cave lyrics and song titles. Cheers.

The Fat Little Insect (a crowd favorite):

Pineapple juice

Apple juice

Gin

Crushed red pepper flakes

The Curse of Millhaven (sure, it's your basic Bloody Mary with a touch of Guinness, but our drink is way more fun to say):

Vodka

Hot Sauce

Tomato juice

Horseradish

Black pepper

Guinness

Pickle

The Mercy Seat:

Whiskey

Peach juice

The Stagger Lee:

Gin

Dry Vermouth

Olive juice

Black pepper

Hot sauce

Green olives

The Road of Hate (this one was created on a dare: "I dare you to make a drink using only items found on that countertop right now."):

Red wine

Whiskey

Pineapple juice

Crushed red pepper flakes

Someday, we will open a bar called The Well of Misery (another Nick song) and serve drinks with Nick-inspired names to the depraved and depressed. By day, it may turn into a slightly-more-cheerful bakery, because who could resist cracking a smirk for a Nick-song-inspired bachelor-party cake like this?

Interested investors can contact us here: snackhands@nyc.rr.com. To ensure that you're a serious supporter of our idea, and of Nick Cave, we will only accept offers from people who tell us how many U's are in the word "scum" when Nick sings it. That's right, we're talking to you, C.

**P.S. While these drinks don't have Nick Cave names, they were also created during our bartending experiment and are worth mentioning:

The Steadman:

Peach juice

Cranberry juice

Gin

The But He Loves Me:

Frozen Blackberries

Club soda

Whiskey

Splenda

(Blender)

The Gary Busey Mugshot:

Whiskey

Frozen mango

Disarono

Lime

Club soda

(Blender)

Review: "Reminds me of his acting career." --M.

The Foie Gras Wars: One Foie, One Against

Snackhands recently turned the last page of this book. It was an intriguing nonfiction tale about how famed chef/restauranteur Charlie Trotter's decision to stop serving foie gras started a big hoo-ha in Chicago and other major food cities about the "to eat or not to eat" ethics surrounding this pricey delicacy. I have to admit I rolled my eyes when the author revealed himself as a vegetarian (writing a book about duck liver!), but he did manage to stay out of the fight himself and presented chefs, foie gras farms and animal-rights activists with equal time. Well, relatively equal; he actually seemed to spend more time with the pro-foie camp. And you can't blame him. Most of the crew crusading against foie gras came off like total nutjobs, and reading about them and their crazy exploits only made me want to eat foie gras even more. Along with duck breast atop creamy polenta. With a side of bacon. And a cheeseburger. And a steak.

You have to be a complete and total food nerd to read this book, and that I am. So much so that when I took quick trip to Chicago (during my Wisconsin stay) to see my good pal S (hereafter referred to as Chicago Meow on the Prowl, or CMoP), I was giddy to get the chance to visit lauded "encased meats emporium and sausage superstore" Hot Doug's, featured both in The Foie Gras Wars and on Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations for the ridonkulous menu item: Foie Gras and Sauternes Duck Sausage with Truffle Aioli, Foie Gras Mousse and Sel Gris.

I drooled at the prospect. I double-checked the website for hours of operation and specials. I printed out maps. I timed my drive. I brought a book for my anticipated hour-long wait in line. And when I arrived at the corner of North California and Roscoe, I had butterflies in my stomach. I was pretty sure that not only was I about to fall in love with foie gras, but also with Hot Doug himself.

Alas, as in all good love stories, there came an evil twist in the plot:

(Gasp.) HEARTBREAK!

Sister Snackhands

Date: Thursday, August 13th, 2009.

Event: Waterfest.

Main Attraction: Night Ranger.

(Also, bratwurst with ketchup.)

Review: Awesome. Bought the t-shirt.

One annual ritual during my summer travels to Wisconsin is attending at least one concert at Oshkosh's relatively new outdoor concert pavilion, built a few years ago to host concerts that became too much of an event to keep happening in the parking lot behind the library. In years past I've seen bands like The Tubes, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and... well, I can't remember who else. The bands, though the main attraction, are really not the point. The point is enjoying summertime in Wisconsin and getting my first brat of the season.

Mmmm, brats. (Rhymes with hot, not hat.) If you've never had one, well, I can't really help you. This delicious smokey sausage, best cooked in a pool of beer, outdoes any Italian sausage you could ever envision.

Now, Waterfest's brats are not the best on the planet. Or, probably, in the city of Oshkosh. Mostly, they've got minor brat flavor and a wimpy bun. You'd be much better off buying your brats from a troop of boy scouts selling them in any number of grocery store parking lots scattered across the state of Wisconsin. But when you are also getting a huge beer for six bucks and are surrounded by people who just don't care about what anyone thinks, truly relishing the music they loved in high school and that is still played on area radio stations, you'll take a sub-par brat and enjoy it like it is filet mignon stuffed with caviar. Especially when Night Ranger is playing "When You Close Your Eyes" and "Sister Christian." Go ahead, swallow that last bite of brat, take a swig of beer and sing along. Don't fight it.

Oh, Oshkosh. You hotbed of summertime entertainment. Of cheap beer and brats. Of steamy Thursday nights by the water. You perfect venue for bands whose prime was 20 years ago but who still rock out. You great collection of men in jean shorts and Harley-Davidson t-shirts. Of women with frosted lipstick and high alcohol tolerance. Snackhands loves you. See you next summer.