Me and "my" beemer*

I feel like people are watching me.

You see, I'm housesitting for my sister and her husband this weekend. With the house comes the responsibility of two cats and a fish. But it also comes with a brand new BMW that she asked me to drive for the weekend so I could pick them up in it -- I guess because it's big and already equipped with Jack's car seat and such. I tried to propose an alternate transport plan to my sister explaining that I didn't want her car to be my primary mode of transportation for the weekend. She looked at me like I was crazy.

Let me explain: I drive a '98 Chevy Prizm. It's worth maybe $1500 right now. I have little concern about what happens to my car at this point. I just want it to get me from here to there and to keep me warm on the way. The only automatic thing about my car is the transmission. I have to roll down the windows manually, unlock the doors manually...turn a key manually. The BMW does all that for me. There's no key to this car. It just knows I want to come in. The trunk closes all by itself too. It's like magic. I bet if I was sick of being stopped at a traffic light, all I'd have to do is rub the emblem on the steering wheel and my green light wish would come true.

So after a brief tutorial on how to make the thing go, I left the airport. The hypertensive thought of "Be careful, this isn't your car" soon wore off as I sunk into the heated seats and let Coldplay guide me through a surprisingly comfortable transition. It wasn't long before I came to terms with the reality that this car... is... awesome.

What should I do now? I thought. I kind of wanted to pick up friends and see if they needed to run errands or anything. My thoughts quickly shifted to the idea of -- no joke -- going antiquing. Yep, I went from zero to yuppie in 0.8 seconds.

I hit this consignment store on 8th South that I always drove by but never stopped in to see what was inside. I parked the car on the side of the street and was really nervous to leave it there by itself. I looked back after I reached the end of the street to make sure it was still OK. When I was done shopping I walked back to the car, floated my hand above the handle and the car granted me entrance. I climbed in and thought, "I love you BMW."

My antiquing adventure continued in Sugarhouse. When I locked the car by gently pressing on the door handle I turned around only to receive glances from passers by. I wasn't sure what the glances meant, but I knew it had something to do with the car I just got out of. It made me feel uncomfortable and I crossed the street pretending I was unaffected.

The store I walked into was pretty high end. An upholstered stool was like $600. I spotted a small mirror similar to one I saw at IKEA a couple days ago. IKEA's price? $20. This one? $180. I walked around wondering if this is where rich people think they need to shop. The owner walked up to me and asked, "Can I help you?" I told her I was just browsing and then she looked me up and down. No joke. She sized me up. Excuse me for walking into your store! You think my Old Navy wardrobe, half-styled hair and absent makeup isn't good enough to shop here? You wanna see my BMW parked out back?

The car and I have gotten along the past 24 hours. I even reached for the premium gas pump at the Chevron. Mostly because I feared the fuel tank would have spit the regular unleaded back out at me. I'm at my home right now, and the beemer* is parked out front along the curb. I heard some talking outside earlier. I ignored it for several seconds but then I looked out the window and saw three guys examining the car and even looking inside the windows. I opened the door and they scattered like shrapnel.

That's right. Beat it hooligans! And stay away from my property. I'm going to have to keep by my window until I can return the car safely to it's secured garage. Look who's being watched now!

*I should be clear, now that I am a temporary pseudo BMW driver, I did my research and learned the term "beemer" refers to a motorcycle. A BMW car is called a "bimmer" -- but before the urban dictionary I had never heard that term. I could have used "bimmer" throughout this post, but please...I don't want to sound like a snob.

Foods of Durham Past: Yorkshire Pudding

Nothing makes me feel more safe and comfortable than the smell of Sunday dinner cooking. If you remember one of my first posts, I talked about the formula Mom used to determine what she made for dinner each day of the week.

One of the Sundayist of Sunday dinners at our house was roast and Yorkshire pudding. (What is it about a traditional "Sunday Dinner" that requires a huge cut of meat?) I don't know if my mom's mom made this or where my mom got the idea of making them. I don't even remember when I first tasted them. If you were to present this dish to me as an adult I would say, "What in the world...? Do I butter this? Put jam on it?"

I was trying to explain to a friend the other day what Yorkshire pudding is. The best I could come up with was a popover. But he didn't know what a popover was either. He asked if it was like a cream puff -- I said that was pretty close. I suppose it could be a denser cream puff drenched in meat juice. Or "sauce" was the word Carter used when he tried convince his girls to eat it (he didn't try very hard because if they didn't eat it, all the more for him). It's actually baked with roast drippings in it too, so I wouldn't try pumping cream into these if you were looking for a cream puff recipe.

I don't make them very often because it's kind of pointless to make Yorkshire pudding if you're not making roast and I don't really like to make roast. And they always stick to the stupid cupcake tin no matter how much I grease it. But I love them. I can eat a lot of them. I had about 8 leftover from dinner last weekend so I ate them all week.

Foods of Durham Past: Swedish Pancakes

What we have here is a very poor picture of a very yummy food.

Explanation: I took this with my phone at a friend’s crepe party last month because I knew I wouldn't get around to making them myself, but it is an important food of Durham past. Only we called them Swedish pancakes because that’s what Dad called them.

It’s not like I’ve never made them before, but they never live up to Dad’s. Why? Because I don’t have the big cast iron skillet – I have a cheapo non-stick pan that does the job, but they aren’t nearly as good as Dad's (I need my Sur la Table employee discount back so I can get me a skillet).

This really was Dad’s signature dish and it was a big deal every time he decided to make them – usually on Saturday mornings. He had to have the kitchen spotless, the apron would come on and there could be no distractions. Mom can prepare a meal in a cluttered kitchen, talk on the phone, watch television and teach a piano student, while Dad can have zero visual and audible distractions because he’s trying to flip a pancake for crying out loud. I could say it’s a Mom/Dad thing, but I really think it’s a male/female thing. Women are just better at multitasking.

Crepe parties are pretty popular and guests are typically asked to bring a “topping”. You get bananas, berries, Nutella, whipped cream, syrup, etc. But crepes at the Durham house were traditionally served with melted butter, sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar and squirted with fresh lemon juice and then rolled up.

My mouth is watering.

So at this crepe party I decided to bring butter, cinnamon powdered sugar and lemons. People didn’t try it at first, but after they got their familiar crepe with sliced fruit and whipped cream out of the way they gave my toppings a go, and they were surprised at how good it was.

This is how things typically went at the Durham home: Dad required that we tell him up front how many we could eat (I got better at gauging this as I got older. I’m not sure what my record is – maybe 5 or 6). The first pancake would either break into pieces or it would be mediocre. Dad would eat it or someone would settle for it. In fact, selfish little kids usually want their food first, but we knew the second pancake was always better than the first, so we all fought for the second pancake slot. Carter liked his “light” and I liked mine “medium” – meaning, a little darker. When we were really little Dad would put the butter, sugar and lemon on for us, and then ask if we wanted them cut in “big ones”, “little ones” or “triangles.”

We’d take turns eating them one at a time. So after everyone got one, you were back in the loop for seconds, thirds, and so on. Sometimes right before your turn, after Dad flipped your pancake, his face would light up with convincing anticipation as he declared the next pancake was most likely the best Swedish pancake he has ever made.

Would I eat them again? You better believe it.
Would I make them again? So I cheated and didn't make these myself. But it's been over a week and I needed a post. But yes, I will.
Would I feed them to friends? If they're nice.

Foods of Durham Past: Pigs in a Blanket

I can't believe this was my dinner.

I had a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch so I had to make a salad to complement my fat wrapped in butter in order to get some sort of vegetable in my diet today.

I'm not saying these aren't tasty. They are. Meat? Good. Cheese? Good. Rolls? Good. Just a lot of fat and cholesterol. But a perfectly acceptable lunch for kids.

This post is for my cousin Liz, who requested it a long time ago. Mom did make these a lot when we were little. I was lazy though, and just threw the cheese in the "blanket" and rolled them up, whereas Mom would slice each individual hot dog and wedge a piece of cheddar in there.

Because I'm me, I had to fancy them up a bit and use lil smokies and crescent rolls instead of regular hot dogs and Rhodes rolls like Mom used to use. Lisa gave me that idea a couple years ago when I called her not knowing exactly how to approach this hors d'oeuvre when I threw my Pictures and Pitchers of Water party. Of course, the pigs in a blanket went really fast. As did the Jell-O Jigglers. Mmmm...I should make those again too.

Eat again? Yes.
Make again? I have to because I have tons of lil smokies left.
Feed to friends? Will you eat them? Please?

Foods of Durham Past: Latkes

Much like pumpkin seeds, latkes are somewhat of a family tradition at the Durham home on Halloween. I remember the first time Mom made them when we were in Sandy. I liked to watch her make new things. Little did I know, these weren't new.

As Mom just informed me in her comment on my previous post, latkes were a Halloween tradition way back when we lived in Orem. Apparently they were a bribe to get my dad to take us little kiddies trick or treating. I guess he really liked them, and she didn't like to make them enough to make them often enough for him. So they were a good bribe. So the bribe continued for several years while we were in Sandy.

(Random memory: I remember these frying while we prepared to go trick or treating. We were watching a repeat of Highway to Heaven (what was that show about?) And then Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman was on later. That's all).

So what are latkes? They're a Jewish potato pancake. What makes them different than hashbrowns? Well, the shredded potatoes are mixed with eggs and minced onion. They are served with sour cream and applesauce. I love them. I made them last year for a Halloween party we had here at our house on Apricot. Maybe you came. Maybe you didn't. Maybe you remember. Maybe you don't. That's OK. I guess.

I would eat them again, I will make them again (wish I could use these as a bribe for something) and I will feed them to friends.

Foods of Durham Past: Roasted Pumpkin Seeds

Each year when Halloween came around and it was pumpkin carving time, my mom made sure we kept all the seeds so she could roast them. These are very tasty, and kind of addicting. It's important that you keep some of the "goop" to roast with the seeds. It makes them better.

I actually roasted these for a pumpkin soup recipe I made for some friends last night. I've never used a fresh pumpkin for cooking before and I wasn't sure whether there are certain pumpkins that are better for cooking, or baking or whatever. One recipe specified small pumpkins. I began to wonder if small pumpkins have a better taste -- kind of like zucchini starts to taste bland and bitter if it gets too big. Anyone? I never found out. I just made soup with a big pumpkin. It tasted OK.

But the seeds...the seeds are awesome. These have olive oil, Worcestershire sauce and garlic salt and then I roasted them for about 40 minutes in a 300 degree oven. I can't believe this is the first time I've ever made them on my own.

Would I eat them again? I wish I had more. I'm eating them sparingly.
Would I make them again? Anytime I have a pumpkin I will.
Would I feed them to friends? I did last night and they seemed to like them too.

Foods of Durham Past: Chocolate Oatmeal Cake

I know, it looks like a I took a picture of a crumb doesn't it? This teensy portion pictured here is Carri's from last night when I got home. I wouldn't let her eat it until I got a good photograph for the blog. She kept asking "Can I eat my cake yet?" So I thank her for her patience.

My mom asked me to make this cake for dessert last night (she had guests over for dinner). I'm going to give the same speech that I gave to my dad and brother. Here is what I think makes this cake so good: it's not too sweet. Granted, I usually cut out some of the sugar in most cakes and desserts these days, but even before I started making that adjustment, it wasn't too sweet. Carter loved it and was asking what I did different because it didn't taste the same as when Mom made it. He thought I added less oatmeal. Nope. Less sugar. And I used dark chocolate Hershey's cocoa instead of regular (I was so happy when I discovered there was such a thing).

I like tasting the flavor of my dessert, rather than simply tasting sweetness. Some things I can't enjoy because it just tastes like sugar to me: napoleons, white frosting, pixie sticks, most hard candy.

Anyway, this dessert has a great flavor and texture. There's no need for frosting because you get richness from the tons of giant chocolate chips you put in it (actually, I bought "giant" chocolate chips for the first time and I think it really worked for this recipe).

I had a piece for breakfast. And after my lunch. And after work.

This recipe will be around for a long time. And I recommend the dark chocolate cocoa powder (if you like dark chocolate). First time I used it. I'll send you the recipe if you want it.

I'm not even going to answer the 3 standard questions because I think it's fairly obvious.

This was going to be one of my last Durham Food posts, but I've had a couple requests so I'll do a few more. Carter can't believe that I haven't made chocolate eclair cake yet. It was a favorite growing up, but ever since I became a grown up, I can't do it. It's too sweet. So if I'm going to make that I'm going to need 8-12 people to come eat it for me. You're welcome to volunteer.