CAKER WORLD PREMIERE!
When it comes to blog commenters, I have some of the finest. Seriously. You’re all awesome. Hearing from fellow cakers puts the “Hello!” into my dolly. Wait, that sounds weird.
Recently, Sara from Wisconsin commented on my Cherry Loaf recipe, confessing that she’d been having dreams about maraschino cherries. (I have them, too, but usually Captain Stubing is involved.) Sara said that there’s a road sign on the way to her sister’s place that reads “Cherry La.” She always thought it sounded like a fabulous dessert. So I said, “Go forth, caker woman, and invent it.”
So she did. And here it is! I've yet to make Sara’s Cherry La, but it reminds me of a snow cone – only without the syrup running down your arm. But a word of caution: you’ll need a zester and strong wrists to scrape the ice. (Two strikes for me.) Sara, I’m going to spread the news about Cherry La throughout all of Canada. Only in Quebec, it’ll be called Le Cherry La. Or La Cherry La. Something like that. I’ve always been le bad at French.
Thanks, Sara!
If you’ve got a caker recipe (original or not), email it to me cakercooking at gmail dot com and I’ll do my darndest to feature it.
And don't forget to come back Monday for the first-ever Pieathalon!
¼ cup maraschino cherry juice
¼ cup lemon juice (about ½ a lemon)
2 tsp. lemon zest
2 cups water
¼ cup sugar
¼ - ½ cup chopped maraschino cherries
Combine all ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Pour mixture in a heat proof/freezer proof pan (I used a metal 9x9 cake pan). Let cool until room temperature. Then put in freezer, making sure it’s a level spot. Freeze for about 2 hours. Once frozen, use a fork and scrape the surface. Enjoy!
Sara’s note 1: You may have to rearrange all of your French bread pizzas and unlabelled Tupperware for a level spot in your freezer.
Sara’s note 2: Don’t use a cheap fork to scrape up the Cherry La or you’ll end up with yet another piece of silverware for your wind chime project.
Source: Caker Sara
Bun-jurno! Welcome to a special Italiano edition of Caker Cooking, sponsored by Ragù. (Okay, maybe not, but a caker can dream.)
In one week, I leave for Italy! (Or, as my mom calls it, “It-lee.”) This is a pretty big deal for someone who wasn’t allowed to cross the street until high school graduation. I’ll be travelling with all my in-laws. That’s 11 Italians. For 14 days. Something tells me I may need earplugs.
As most of you know, it was the Italians who called us “cakers” in the first place. And while that term isn’t exactly complimentary, a caker never holds a grudge. So I’m making this lasagna and bringing it to share with the people of Italy. (So long as the flight crew doesn’t get to it first. LOL!)
Caker lasagna is very similar to traditional Italian lasagna, only it has cottage cheese. And garlic powder. And, uh, tomato soup. And, well, canned mushrooms. But aside from that, pretty identical. I made this lasagna for my Italian better half and while he was “schkeeved” at first, who do you think went back for a second helping? (Leaving a trail of Pino Silvestre behind him, I might add.) Then I took some to my mom and she said it was the best lasagna she ever tasted! Not that she has the highest standards. Anyways, it's good.
Next week is the first-ever Pieathalon! A bunch of food bloggers got together and exchanged pie recipes. What did I get stuck with? Alls I’ll say is, “Check, mate.”
In closing, I have a few words I’d like to say to the people of Italy. I’ve asked my Italian partner to translate.
"Dear people of Italy, I hope you enjoy this lasagna. I love your food, especially Pizza Hut pizza. I’m looking forward to visiting the childhood home of one of my idols, Chef Boyardee. See you soon."
Translation:
"Gente d'Italia, correte!!! Vi raccomando di non mangiare questa lasagna di mangia-cake!!! Questi mangia-cake hanno massacrato la nostra cultura!!! Non posso continuare a mangiare questo cibo!!! Aiuto!!!"
1 pound ground beef
1 chopped onion
3 teaspoons garlic powder
1 tablespoon oregano
1 can tomato soup
1 can tomato paste
½ cup water
2 cups cottage cheese
2 eggs, beaten
9 lasagna noodles, cooked and drained (see note 1)
8 ounces mozzarella
1/3 cup parmesan cheese
Heat oven to 350°. Fry beef, onion and spices. Drain. Add soup, paste and water. (See note 2) Boil and reduce heat. Simmer 30 minutes. Stir. Combine cottage cheese and eggs. Add to meat mixture. Arrange 3 alternate layers of noodles, meat mixture, mozzarella cheese, noodles, etc. Bake for 45 minutes. Let stand 15 minutes before serving.
Note 1: I’m sorry, but 9 noodles didn’t cut it. I did 4 layers of 4 noodles. So 16 in total. I think. I failed math. Just use the whole box. Remember to save some sauce to spread on the top layer. I used no-boil noodles (of course) but the top layer got dried-out. You might want to consider using the boil kind. Also, try reserving some of the sauce to put on the top layer of noodles.
Note 2: For nutritional reasons, my mom always added canned mushrooms to her lasagna, so I did the same at this point.
Source: This recipe book doesn’t have a cover, but I think it’s by Eatons employees.
Sometimes, I imagine caker ingredients competing in a beauty pageant. Why, here comes Miss Dream Whip (note the pale complexion). Next up, it’s Miss Tomato Soup (she’s a tangy one, fellas). And let’s not forget Miss Shredded Coconut (a little scattered). But no contestant comes close to the Red Number 4 glory of Miss Maraschino Cherry.
Plump, bright and shellacked in high fructose corn syrup, Miss Maraschino Cherry has style, sophistication and definitely leaves her mark. (Seriously, don’t get maraschino cherry juice on your counter.) From scaling the heights of an ice cream sundae to diving into the depths of an icy Coke, Miss Maraschino Cherry makes Alexis Carrington look like Mama June.
This Cherry Loaf took me back to my Betty Crocker Easy-Bake Oven days (not that I was allowed to have one – I had to steal borrow it from a female friend) because one of the mixes was cherry and the cake had the same pink colour as this loaf. Come to think of it, I blame Betty Crocker for turning me into a caker in the first place. I mean, baking with a light bulb? That’s more caker than a microwave.
1 c. w. sugar
1 egg
1/8 tsp. salt
½ c. butter
Small bottle cherries
Pour juice into a cup and fill with milk (see note 1)
2 c. flour
2 tsp. B. powder
1/2 c. walnuts and raisins may be added.
When you add the cherries, use electric mixer and they will cut into small pieces. Bake in loaf pan 1 hr. (see note 2)
Note 1: I assumed “a cup” meant a 1-cup measuring cup. Also, I couldn't find a small bottle, so estimated half of a large bottle.
Note 2: Caker ladies aren’t always the most thorough with their instructions. I baked mine at 350.
Source: Wheatland Cooks Celebrate
I’ve tried, I’ve really tried, but I can’t get with vegetables and fruit mixed together. Yes, even when there are mini-marshmallows in the mix.
So it should come as no surprise that I wasn’t looking forward to making Waldorf Salad. This great-aunt caker luncheon staple is usually served alongside ham slices, radishes, devilled eggs and forced laughter. Waldorf Salad, for those of you unawares, calls for apples and celery. Folks, if the Good Lord had wanted apples and celery to be eaten together, He would’ve created appelery.
Now, because I make a pledge not to waste food on this blog, I had to eat this salad for lunch every day for an entire week. And, truth be told, it started to grow on me by the end. The walnuts and the marshmallows were like buffers that made the celery and apples a little more tolerable. I stress a little. Suffice to say, I won't be inviting celery and apple to come swim in my aboveground pool anytime soon. The rest of you? Grab your flotation device and come on down. The pool is officially open and my sarong is on.
3 c. diced unpeeled apples
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 c. miniature marshmallows
1 c. chopped celery
¼ c. chopped walnuts
mayonnaise
Sprinkle the apples with the lemon juice. Add marshmallows, celery and nuts. Add enough mayonnaise to moisten. Toss lightly.
Source: Wheatland Cooks Celebrate, Wheatland U.C.W., Saskatchewan
Special thanks to Caker Cooking reader Carroll for sending me this cookbook!
Behold! I give you the glorious tapestry known as Salmon Loaf!
Okay, it’s not the most attractive thing in the world. But need I remind you how disgusting salmon looks when it comes out of the can? There are all those slithery grey bits of skin and bones sticking out and sometimes, depending on how much the salmon canner was slacking off, you’ll find a lone salmon eye staring back at you.
Cakers love salmon. (It comes in a can, after all.) But we usually stick to pink salmon. It’s the paler, cheaper cousin of sockeye. We mainly use it in salmon sandwiches (pronounced "sammin sammitches") made with white, buttered bread. My great-grandmother survived on salmon sandwiches and she lived to be almost 100. Of course, her house probably smelled like Captain Highliner’s beard.
This recipe called for a 8” x 12” pan, which I used. But I was a little disappointed that I didn’t opt for my loaf pan. After all, if you’re going to call something a loaf, it should look like a loaf. What you’re looking at here could easily be called Salmon Squares. And without a sprinkling of shredded coconut on top, that just seems wrong.
Looks aside, this salmon loaf tasted great. Just watch for bones. And eyes.
1 large can salmon (see note 1)
2 cups crushed soda crackers
1 ½ cups milk
2 eggs beaten
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon mustard
¼ cup melted butter
1 tablespoon vinegar
Mix all ingredients together. Press into cooking dish approx. 8” x 12.” Can be served hot or cold. Cook at 350 deg. for 1 hr. Put salmon can in oven with water to keep salmon loaf moist. (see note 2)
Note 1: You can usually find the larger cans, but if not, I'd use two regular-sized cans. Or maybe three?
Note 2: I was going to do this, but then got freaked out thinking about the fumes from the label glue. So I put water in another baking dish and set it next to the loaf.
Source: Happiness is Cooking with Lockhart School, Newcastle, Ontario
I live next to a senior’s residence and every morning, an old woman wearing wraparound sunglasses and a baseball hat dumps stale bread in the park across the street. I’m like, “Damn, girl, why let the pigeons have all that goodness?” So, as soon as she’s gone, I run over, scoop up the bread and hurry home before I get revenge-shat on by the pigeons.
Caker creativity shines brightest with stale white bread. There are lots of things we do with it. We cut shapes into it for block printing. We use it as a sponge to wash our Chevettes. We also rub it on our feet to get rid of callouses before open-toed-heel season starts.
This recipe magically turns old bread into the daintiest delicacy of all: Lady Fingers! While I nibbled on these, I kept imagining myself among society ladies named Tipsy and Blousy, discussing things like polo and alimony. As to how these tasted – delicious! Just like a chocolate coconut donut. Tipsy won't suspect a thing. You might want to give her an umbrella, though. Pigeons can hold grudges.
1 loaf unsliced day-old bread (see note)
5 tablespoons cocoa
1 ½ cups sugar
3 tablespoons butter
3 teaspoons vanilla
9 tablespoons hot water
Coconut
Cut crusts off loaf. Cut into 1” slices. Cut slices into 1” wide strips. Mix together cocoa, sugar, butter, vanilla and hot water in saucepan. Boil for 5 minutes. Dip the bread strips into the chocolate. Roll in shredded coconut.
Note: I let my bread stay out overnight, but it was still pretty soft when I cut into it. Damn those preservatives! So I cut it and let the pieces dry out more.
Source: Church of the Hosannas Centennial Cookbook, Hyde Park, Ontario
What the heck is going on with dog food these days? Take one look at the ingredients and you’ll see things like duck, organic blueberries and filet mignon in a bordelaise sauce. And let’s not get started on how much it costs.
I had a dog growing up and here’s what we fed him: orange and brown Ken-L-Ration food (it looked like Play-Do pushed through a meat grinder), little discs of brown wax called “Chocolate Drops,” and, at Christmas, red and green-dyed rawhide sticks. Heck, we’d even let him lap up the milk from our cereal bowls. It saved us having to wash them.
You know what? That dog lived until he was 18. Of course, the fact that we never got him fixed might’ve had something to do with it. He was likely holding onto the hope he’d eventually get something other than a leg.
In spite of its name, Puppy Chow isn’t dog food. It’s caker food. And it’s dog-gone delicious. You get the sweetness of the icing sugar mixed in with the creaminess of the peanut butter, not to mention all that free riboflavin in the Crispix. Move over, dogs. This one’s for the people.
8 cups Crispix cereal
½ cup margarine or butter
½ cup creamy peanut butter
½ cup chocolate morsels
2 cups powdered sugar
Melt butter. Add peanut butter and morsels. Stir well until melted. In large bowl, pour over cereal. Stir until cereal is coated. Put sugar in large plastic bag. Add cereal mix. Shake well.
Source: Our 20th Anniversary Cookbook, Lambeth Co-operative Playschool Inc.
