Kitsch-en Kounter: Apple Pie Without Cheese Is Like A Kiss Without A Squeeze

As I am like to do, I was recently watching a rerun of I Love Lucy in which Lucy offers Fred a slice of apple pie with a "big ol' hunk of cheese" on it.  I was immediately reminded of the saying that has been handed down through generations of my mom's family, "Apple pie without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze."  Very much akin to, "They go together like bacon & eggs," apple pie and cheddar cheese used to be such an ordinary and inseparable flavor profile that it had its own saucy little epigram.  Somehow, somewhere along the line, cheese lost out to its oh so à la mode cousin, à la mode (since when did a scoop of ice cream become so fashionable?).  How, in such a short time, did what was once so commonplace become completely forgotten to the contemporary palate?  Why, I wonder, did this all-American culinary combo fall so far out of f(l)avor?

Immortalized in a 1956 ad for Miss Wisconsin Cheddar
Cheese, the long-lost dynamic duo of desserts
(Source)

The only eatery I've ever visited that offers the apple pie/cheese taste sensation is the world-famous Du-Par's (serving the Los Angeles area for over 75 years).  Just out of high school, on our very first visit to  The Original Farmers Market location, my friends and I were receiving less-than-stellar service from a crusty, old waitress who had been slinging hash for the better part of her 100 years and wasn't about to waste any charm on a bunch of snotty-nosed bad-tippers (a valid supposition, I guess).  After ignoring our table for the entirety of our meal, she came to present the bill and ask in a bitter monotone if we had "saved any room for dessert."  One member of our party who had been looking at the dessert offerings bellowed in disgust, "Yech, apple pie with cheese?!?!?!!!"  Before the waitress could use the rest of her limited strength to lunge across the table and strangle my dining companion, I jumped in with, "Of course!  My mom always said, 'Apple pie without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze'" (I've always been a bit of a brown-noser).  The change in countenance between the wizened, old waitress and the newly-beatific server was staggering as she quickly became my new best friend.  Knowing all too well the classic pie pairing, she was thrilled to learn a new saying (one that she could use to boost sales), that she brought us a free piece of pie - with cheese!

Tis the season for all things apple, so Mr. Tiny went apple picking (picking the
best apples from the giant apple mound at the grocery totally counts) with pie in mind.
Using a mix of Fuji and Granny Smith apples, I quickly learned why pie seems like
such a special-occasion treat -  peeling and slicing a bushel of apples stinks!

How though, beyond serving the most pedestrian of pies with a single sliver of cheddar cheese, could I recreate the classic American sweet-and-savory dessert dynamo?  It didn't take long before I realized that the king of all cheese crackers would be the perfect vehicle for such a long-awaited flavor reunion.  Like so many times before, it was Cheez-It to the rescue!

I had heard of a Depression-era, mock-apple pie where Ritz crackers actually served as apple proxy; thinking that a similar technique (resulting in a mouth full of cinnamon-sugar soaked Cheez-Its) might be a bit much, I changed direction and ground the crackers to a fine crumb.

Never having made a proper pie before in my life, I waffled between using cheese cracker crumbs for the pie crust or creating a cheesy crumb topping.  Lousy at decision making, I decided to do both - that's right, cheesy apple pie two ways!!!

The evolution of pie
Using a traditional bottom crust and filling, I made a
Dutch Apple Pie with a Cheez-It/pecan crumble topping. 

Introduced in 1921, the Cheez-Its imparted a subtle-yet-solid cheese flavor to the Dutch Apple Pie (are you listening Netherlands?  I've improved your namesake pie!).  While I thought this creation was both tasty and mildly clever, the pie was neither quite as impactful nor as wacky tacky as I knew we could get.  C'mon Cheez-Its, don't fail me now!

I made the base of the second pie in the same fashion as a graham-cracker
crust, using instead Cheez-It crumbs and only a scant amount of sugar.

This pie was filled with the same traditional filling as the first and baked, tented in foil so the apples would not dry out.  After it cooled, it was piled high with homemade, cinnamon whipped cream.  I don't know if it is smart or insanely masochistic to constantly make desserts to which I am highly intolerant (dairy is most assuredly not my friend).

Wanting to get a little fancy and invite a bit of genuine cheese to these pie proceedings,
I made crispy, cheddar cheese/parmesan tuiles to decorate the top of the pie.

With plenty of pie on hand and a favorite cousin visiting from Texas (Yeehaw! Cuzzin Bobbi!!!), the only logical thing to do was throw an impromptu dinner party.

Cuzzin Bobbi, Nick, Cynthia, Lauren, Mr. Tiny, and Mary (taking the photo)
gathered around the old, family table to break bread.  But dinner was a mere
formality, dessert was definitely the star of this show.

With a diverse range of palates surrounding the table, the results as to which pie was best were decidedly mixed.  Lauren, an inveterate "I don't like my food to touch" purist, favored the Dutch Apple Pie.  Cynthia, a world-class extreme eater with adventurous taste buds, gave the prize to the cheese tuiles and Cheez-It crust.  I was so interested in finding out what everyone else thought, that I didn't do my own small sampling until everyone was gone and the dishes were washed.  I love a good mix of sweet/salty/savory and without sounding too self-satisfied, I think the cheese crust is the definite winner!  It's genius inspired everyone at the table to think of other applications for a Cheez-It crust (sweet and savory).

Say "CHEESE!"
The winner, Mr. Tiny and the pie

In any event, after samplings were made of each pie, we collectively came to know the true meaning behind the phrase, "Apple pie without [Cheez-It] is like a kiss without a squeeze [it]!"  Great, now I'm thinking of ways to combine cheese crackers with that sugary, wax-bottled beverage of my youth (remember Squeezits - the drinks that only the cool kids had in their lunches, clearly explaining why I never had one in my lunch?).

Surrounded by loved ones and a bounty of cheesy-apple-pie goodness, I realized that, much like Johnny Appleseed, "the Lord is good to me."  In turn, I feel like I am good to the Sunshine Biscuit Company for giving them a brand new lease on their delicious "baked snack cracker."  In an effort to pay it all forward, I share with you what will undoubtedly become the centerpiece of your holiday festivities.  Give your family what they want this holiday season - Jesus, cheeses, and squeezes!!!

"The Lord is Good to Me" - from Walt Disney's Johnny Appleseed 

Performed by Dennis Day

Are you a Cheez-It fan?  Have you ever had apple pie with cheese?  Did your parents/grandparents hand down the "cheese/squeeze" saying in your family?  Is the apple pie/cheese combo still going strong where you live?  What's the weirdest dessert you've ever concocted (we want to try it)?


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Betty Crocker's ColorVision Cake

Usually, I don't go in for boxed cake mixes.  Sure, they can be doctored to achieve scratch-ish results; although, by the time one does the doctoring, it is just as easy to measure one's own dry ingredients to achieve a superior product.  No really, I'm not a cake snob (well, maybe a little...but it would be unforgivable to not have a refined palate after consuming such an unholy amount of baked goods).  It's just that if I'm going to put in all the effort of baking a cake, I simply want it to be the best cake possible.

Everywoman's Magazine - April 1952

Inspired by the cover of Everywoman's Magazine from April 1952 (doesn't every man have back issues of Everywoman's lying around?), I decided that enough time had passed since my last cake-baking fiasco to give the whole thing another go.  I didn't even have to "See pages 50-51 for Everywoman's April Cover Cake Recipe;" all I had to do was flip the magazine over to find a recipe perfectly suited to my abilities (fingers crossed).

Betty Crocker's ColorVision Cake
The instructions are simple: prepare a box of Betty Crocker's Yellow Party Cake Mix as
directed on the package, add just three tablespoons of your favorite Jell-O flavor (in
powdered form), and bake as directed for a "new kind" of spectacularly-hued cake.
  That's...well...a piece of cake!

I am in love with Technicolor.  I find it hard to articulate but in my mind the whole world used to appear in Technicolor.  I don't mean that in reference to a popular color palette; I mean that, based on the countless movies I've seen, I would expect that, given the opportunity to go back in time, I would find a world of texture and color much like the advertisement above - saturated but soft, intense but hazy, bold but bashful.  I know it isn't so; I know that the colors and textures we this year are the same as yesteryear but it's nice to dream!  I figured the closest I'd get to my bold vision of color was a Technicolor cake in the form of Betty Crocker's ColorVision Cake.

Feeling a bit like a hypocrite, having just preached an entire sermon on my preference for scratch cakes, I decided to be true to Betty Crocker circa '52 - prepared cake mix to the rescue!  Using one box of cake mix and one box of Jell-O, I followed the instructions to the tee.

Or as closely as I could...
Searching the pantry for Jell-O, I came a cross a yellow
cake mix of a different manufacture.  Surprised that it was
still within the "Use By" date, I figured that it would be more
prudent to use the cake mix I already owned rather than go out
to buy a new one for the sake of brand loyalty - economy first!

I love peach-flavored everything - candy, soda pop, ice cream.  Thusly, I felt the choice of peach gelatin was truly inspired...until about halfway through the process.  Given the myriad of color/flavor options available to create a TECHNICOLOR CAKE, I went with the one that was, for all intents and purposes, REGULAR CAKE colored!  I actually had a box of Jolly Rancher, green-apple-flavored gelatin dessert in the cupboard and I still went with peach!  I am a peach fiend!

I read somewhere that creating an aluminum foil snuggie around the cake
pans results in cake layers that are less-domed...I thought I'd give it a shot.

In doing a little internet-based research, I discovered that Betty Crocker's website still offers the ColorVision Cake cake among its current catalog of recipes.  I also noticed that a few alterations to the recipe had occurred over the last 61 years.  Firstly, the new recipe calls for a white cake mix; that one actually makes sense as a white cake will allow for a more accurate representation of the desired color.  Secondly, the icing recipe underwent a complete overhaul moving from a Swiss Meringue to a more traditional buttercream.  A flavored buttercream would have been much easier but again, I intended to see this cake through just as 1952 Betty would have wanted me to.

The original icing recipe is as follows:

The remaining powder from the Jell-O packet
2 egg whites
1 C. granulated sugar
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar (I had to eyeball that one.  Is there an 1/8 tsp. measure?  If there is, it wasn't on my measuring spoon ring.)
1/4 C. Water

Combine all ingredients in the top of a double boiler and beat on the high speed of an electric mixer or with rotary beater until icing holds stiff peaks.  Remove from over boiling water and beat about one minute longer.

I don't have a hand held mixer so I used a whisk and then transferred the
contents to a stand mixer to whisk further.  Until just now I couldn't for the
life of me figure out why my arm ached for the rest of the day.
I'm obviously out of shape, whisking and otherwise.

That's what we in the business call a "stiff peak."
The icing ends up being a frothy hybrid of meringue and
marshmallow creme - kind of interesting, kind of unusual.

So much for the aluminum foil "snuggie"
Exaggerated only slightly by the angle of the photo and the hack job
 I did with the icing, this ColorVision Cake was seriously doming. 

What better to treat you with
 than candy peach rings?

For the filling I went rogue.
Determined to use what I had on hand (a cup of white chocolate morsels and some sweetened condensed
 milk), I created a faux ganache, adding both food coloring and some of the dissolved peach Jell-O. 

If there is a theme, in this instance "processed and peachy," I'll run with it.
I served the cake with a dollop of whipped cream and some sliced, canned peaches. 

The Top 5 Realities of Making Betty Crocker's 1952 ColorVision Cake:

1. It takes a lot more than a few scoops of powered gelatin to make something a ColorVision Cake.  Disappointed with the colors (partially my fault for choosing peach), I added a heck of a lot of food coloring to every step (cake, filling, and icing) and still wasn't amazed by the color.
2. I am not a frosting guy anyway, but the foamy meringue/marshmallow creme thing really wasn't doing it for me.
3. Next time (although I have it on good authority that there will not be a ColorVision Cake next time) get wild.  There are unusual flavors, colors, and combinations that can be achieved with Jell-O and I went with something pretty mundane - next time green apple or nothing!
4. Cakes never look as great as they do in the pictures.
5. One should always bake cakes from scratch.

Have you tried any old recipes lately?  Have you had any baking disasters/triumphs about which we should know?  What's your favorite flavor of Jell-O?  Will you give the ColorVision Cake a try?  If you do, please let us know how it turns out.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: The Luck O' the Irish

It is possible that I've mentioned it here before, but my paternal grandparents were absolutely enchanted by the Emerald Isle.  Having seen The Quiet Man (1952) one too many times, my Yugoslavian grandfather and his Swiss wife named their kids Patrick Joseph, Jeffrey Logan, and Michael Anthony. If they'd had a daughter, there is no doubt in my mind that her name would have been - now you have to imagine this in my best John Wayne impression - "Mary Kate....Danaher."  Yep, they totally would have changed their last name to accommodate the ruse.

The Quiet Man (1952)

A wonderful movie starring John Wayne & Maureen O'Hubba Hubba...err...O'Hara

Committed to their charade, we were raised on a strong Irish-American diet of corned beef, boiled potatoes, and malarkey.  Carrying on in the faux-Irish tradition, I decided to turn to the March issue of Every Woman's Magazine from 1952 (the very same year that The Quiet Man was released) for some wacky tacky St. Paddy's inspiration.

Every Woman's: The Woman's Guide to Better Living - March (1952)

I was anything but disappointed to find a fitting recipe for our type of St. Patrick's Day festivities (totally devoid of actual Irish heritage).  I daren't fiddle with the traditional fare, but our dessert course allows for the taking of some liberties; Mary Alden's St. Pat's Peppermint Candy certainly fit the bill. 

I was sold by the first check mark; "So easy - youngsters can make it!"  I 'll take Mary Alden's word for it.
If a youngster can do it, then chances are I will think I can do it and then be shocked at my own ineptitude!

As it turns out, May Alden was not only the Director of
Home Economics for the Quaker Oats Company, she
 was a successful cookbook author.
Mary Aden's Cook Book for Children is now on my wishlist!
(Source)

Full disclosure:  I used generic crispy rice instead of the called for Quaker
Oats Puffed Rice; I didn't even know they still made the stuff.  Crispy Rice may
be an adequate substitute but "Shot from Guns" it ain't!  Looking more like
Fruity Pebbles than Rice Krispies, I decided in retrospect that I should have
shot the works on name-brand cereal and upped the Irish ante with Lucky Charms! 

As per usual, the outcome of my culinary effort is decidedly less spectacular than my initial desire.  Although, I'm not sure what I had hoped for as my St. Pat's Peppermint Candies look very similar to Mary Alden's.  And really, how life-changing are crispy rice squares supposed to be anyway???

One thing I might change for future St. Patrick's Day sweets is crushing
the peppermints finer.  Allowing for larger pieces of candy (so more of
the green would show) also allowed for the possibility of a broken crown!

Because Mr. Tiny is hopping a boat for a weekend wedding, we decided to celebrate St. Patrick's Day a little prematurely and everybody dug in; the consensus was that Mary Alden had a pretty bright idea when she added crushed peppermints to the standard, rice square recipe.

By the look on his face, I knew I had at least one raving fan!

Do you get creative with your Rice Krispie treats?  What is the craziest thing you've ever added to the mix?  Whether your St. Patrick's Day is spent with all the "traditional" fixings or with a few pals down at the pub, we hope that this March 17 brings you all the luck of a rabbit's foot, a penny, and a four leaf clover!

"I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover" - Art Mooney

Cheers & Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Mr. Tiny

Kitsch-en Kounter: Peanut Butter Maple Cookies

This post would seem like one that could lend itself to being very short, sweet, and to the point.  How much could one possibly have to say about a recipe?

Well, the joke's on you if you keep reading; more than likely, this is going to be one long ramble built upon jumbled childhood memories that have translated into sordid adult neuroses.  Trust me, this recipe is delicious, but only incidental to the greater story.

"C is for Cookie"

I should begin you telling you that I AM THE COOKIE MONSTER!!! Which, it turns out, runs in the family.  My two-year-old nephew recently asked me for a cookie and when I handed it (half a graham cracker) to him, he took it and, while mashing it into his face, said, "Cookie, nom, nom, nom, nom, nom."  It was hilarious to me because he doesn't have a lot of tricks and the surprise of the new behavior had me rolling on the floor!

Cookies of all kinds (generally not of the store-bought or jam-filled variety) make me the jolly (read overstuffed) person that you have come to know.  Of all the dessert possibilities, I will always gravitate towards cookies.  My favorites?  Chocolate chip-less (a brown sugar cookie), sugar (with sugar sprinkles), snickerdoodle, oatmeal/chocolate chip/date/walnut (a grandma classic), shortbread, biscotti, lemon, Mexican/Italian/Greek wedding...I could go on.

I don't have a very good memory (part of the reason I started this blog) and memories from my childhood are hazy at the best of times.  My love of cookies and the forthcoming recipe are based on two very distinct memories from my formative years that are fundamental to the type of adult I have become.

The first story is one of embarrassment.  Keep in mind that this story was probably only embarrassing to me and actually comes in a distant second for most embarrassing sleepover story.  In the second grade I was invited to spend the night at a friend's house.  The thrill of sleeping at anyone else's house but my own filled me with equal parts joy and dread.  On one hand, while I would still be sharing a room, instead of my dumb old brothers it would be with a cool friend.  On the other hand, as a natural born worrier, I could clearly see the folly of being so far from my parent's room were I to have a bad dream.  I made it through the night okay and joined in the revelry of my friend and his siblings when their mom announced that the breakfast menu would feature french toast!  We sat at the table grinning like idiots at the sheer joy of promised french toast.  Their mom set the first plate of food before me and after thanking her, I looked around and uttered the words that no gracious guest should ever speak, "Where's the peanut butter?"  The sound of a pin dropping would have easily shattered the eardrums of anyone close enough to hear my foolish query.  Where's the peanut butter?!?!?!!  (Here's the part where I mention that I didn't realize that we were the only family in the entire world who puts peanut butter on french toast - which actually explains a lot about our family).  Trust me, it only seems strange when you are confronted with the realization that this flavor profile (peanut butter AND maple syrup) is unique to you.  Everyone else at the table happily spread their toast with a healthy portion of butter and doused the whole thing in syrup; if I recall correctly, powdered sugar may have been a key player as well.  As embarrassed as I was, I begrudgingly ate my french toast in the fashion of my friend's family, as not even an ounce of peanut butter was proffered.  Needless to say, I never spent the night at that friend's house again - not because I wasn't invited, but because I knew that the demands of my sophisticated tastes could never me met in such a house.

(Source)

+

(Source)

=

DEEEEEEE-licious!!!

The second story is one of humility.  When I was of the appropriate age (I can't remember exactly), I was in Cub Scouts (not by choice).  Every week one of the kids was assigned to bring a treat for the group (den? pack?).  Translation, some poor kid's mom had to take time out of her schedule to prepare snacks for a bunch of creepy, uniformed kids that she didn't care about.  When it was my turn, I hesitated telling my mom because even as a child, I knew it would stress her out.  How thoughtful of me!  What a relief it must have been for her to be spared that information until the morning of the meeting when she was racing to get all her own kids off to school.  She handled the devastating news like a real trouper, and told me that she still had enough time to make chocolate-covered graham crackers.  Chocolate covered graham crackers?!?!?! The embarrassment of such a low-brow confection left a huge knot in my stomach. All day long I tried to use the powers of my mind to get the clock to work in reverse but no such luck.  I anxiously counted down the hours until school let out and the cub scout meeting began.  Really, chocolate-covered graham crackers?  I could just picture the den mother removing the lid from the Tupperware and, upon seeing the humble, homemade treats, sneering at me and saying, "What are you, poor?"  Who would eat chocolate covered graham crackers besides us anyway?  They were just something my mom made up when we didn't have cookies, right?  There is no way that other kids would "get it;" they would just think we were weird.  After the great peanut butter boondoggle, I was a little gun shy anyway, and I knew these choco-grahams would seal my fate as a first-class freak.

When the time came for the meeting I slipped out the front door unnoticed, "accidentally" leaving the container of misbegotten sweets behind.  I figured that it would be so much easier to sheepishly explain that I had forgotten the treats than it would be to endure the tireless ridicule that would deservedly come from being "the kid who brought chocolate-covered graham crackers."  The den mother accepted my lie without hesitation and said that she could easily whip something up for my ravenous group of would-be tormentors.  She went into the kitchen and I breathed the sigh of a pardoned criminal as every part of my fiendish plan started falling into place.  After a short time the den mother returned with the afternoon's refreshments.  The anticipation of what was to come had built to a deafening crescendo; the greedy fingers of the cub scouts readied themselves for what was sure to be the penultimate cub scout treat - the legend of which I was sure they would certainly regale their children and even their children's children.  Sweat dripped from my brow as I pawed at my kerchief which seemed to be tightening around my neck with each passing second.  Every bit of air vanished from the room as the den mother unveiled her masterpiece - CHOCOLATE-COVERED GRAHAM CRACKERS!!!

Lessons learned:  One, not everybody eats the way that you do, so don't go out into the world with the expectation that they do.  Two, listen to your mom.  Three, everybody eats weird combinations of food, so be proud of your weird cookies and don't be afraid to share your recipes with the world.  In an effort to "share my weird cookies,"  I offer you Maple-Glazed Peanut Butter Cookies!  This peanut butter cookie recipe (pre-glaze) is one that has been passed down in our family.  It is flourless (pretty hip) and because it is so simple and tasty, it is the only recipe that we use for peanut butter cookies.

Peanut Butter Cookies with Maple Glaze

Cookies:

1 C. Peanut Butter - your favorite brand, creamy or chunky (I'm definitely a chunky man - no wise racks!)

1 C. Granulated sugar

1 Egg
(Seriously, that's it)

Thoroughly mix all ingredients and scoop (I use a small ice cream scoop) onto a prepared cookie sheet.  Bake at 350 degrees for approx. 12 minutes.  Let the cookies set up for a few minutes (they tend to fall apart if you remove them from the cookie sheet right away.  Yields about 18 cookies. 

Glaze (this is mostly a guess, you should know by now that I don't like exact recipes):

2 C. Confectioner's sugar

4 Tbsp. Maple Syrup

Splash of milk
1/2 tsp. Maple extract (optional for that extra maple flavor)

Sift confectioner's sugar to break up any lumps and beat in maple syrup and milk. Place the partially-cooled cookies on a wire rack and spoon the glaze over the cookies to coat them completely.  If you can control yourself, allow the glaze to set and then DIG IN!!!

I know the peanut butter/maple flavor profile might seem odd at first, but once you try the taste sensation, you'll realize that it is a combination made in fat kid heaven and you won't be able to think of peanut butter in the same way again!  As a fair warning, there is enough sugar per ounce in these suckers to make your teeth spontaneously fall out of your face.  So, if you're a dentist, a diabetic, or just not feeling so adventurous, the cookies can definitely be enjoyed glaze free as is or with the delicious addition of chocolate chips (a major crowd pleaser).  Remember, if you do try the recipe, please be sure to let me know how everything turns out.

Did somebody say, "Breakfast?"

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny 

Kitsch-en Kounter: Neapolitan Treats

I love looking through old magazines.  I was fortunate enough to inherit some of my great-grandmother's collection of magazines including many McCall's and Collier's from the late forties and early fifties.  I treasure these veritable time capsules that still bear her name and address so much that they have gone with me wherever I have moved.  Endless inspiration is to be found by simply thumbing through the dog-eared pages and with every turn of the page I have taken mental notes on the fashion, the interiors and even the food!  Sometimes the recipes culled from the pages of these publications seem like a menu designed for prisoners of war, kidnappers, and especially-disruptive, early-morning landscapers.  I can see the artistry and the ingenuity behind the recipes.  I can see the endless possibilities for pimento olives.  I can see these recipes as part of the wacky tacky landscape and therefore I wanted to try my hand at making something that could be worthy of a home on the pages of these magazines.

Growing up, my dad's favorite ice cream flavor was neapolitan.  He always loved mixing flavors and the classic chocolate, vanilla, strawberry combination that neapolitan offered him was an ice cream dream come true.  When he would buy it for the family, however, the carton would invariably end up as a stripe of vanilla surrounded by two voids where the chocolate and strawberry once resided.  My brother still considers vanilla to be "plain."  Inspired by the recipes of vintage magazines and my dad's favorite flavor  story I decided to create neapolitan "marshmallow rice squares."  I would say Rice Krispie Treats, but in the interest of full disclosure, I not only used generic marshmallows, I used store-brand
"Crispie Rice Cereal" - both regular and cocoa-flavored.  I decided that the obvious finishing touch was a dunk in chocolate.

Clearly, I am no food stylist.  The way a food looks in my imagination doesn't always translate directly to the finished product.  Furthermore, the way that the photos look in my head versus the way the photos turn out is very telling about my photography skills as well.  Nevertheless, the finished product was tasty and left room for fine-tuning in the next batch.  Although I'm not sure that I would have pleased the editors of Collier's.

My next food challenge is to take a real recipe from a vintage magazine and see if my family will actually eat it!  Bon appetit!

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny