Ravings of a Textual Deviant

This recipe is blatantly ripped off from Nigella Lawson, with only minor tinkering. The original is in the “kids” section of her book, and uses about 1/3 milk chocolate and 2/3 dark chocolate. Personally, I like this ever-so-slightly more grown-up version better, and the grown-ups I served it to seemed to enjoy it also.

1st Layer

• 3/4 C + 2 T creamy peanut butter - use unsweetended peanut butter only; the kind that’s 100% peanuts. I found that it didn’t really need salt, either.
• 1/4 C brown sugar
• 1 1/3 C powdered sugar
• 1/4 C softened butter (unsalted)

2nd Layer

• 11 oz dark chocolate (or cut the dark chocolate with some milk chocolate as described above, if you must)
• 1/4 t vanilla powder - I don’t recommend substituting liquid extract, because it can make your chocolate seize up. If you haven’t got the powder, just skip it.
• 1 T butter (unsalted)

Combine all the ingredients for the first layer until you have a smooth, doughy concotion. This works best if everything is at room temperature. Following Nigella’s suggestion, I used the paddle blade on my mixer and it was a snap. Press the mixture into a more-or-less even layer in a greased square cake pan. If you spent a lot of time using playdough, the texture will be quite reminiscent.

Break up the chocolate. Melt the chocolate and butter together. I did this in the microwave at 50% power; it took about three minutes, and I stopped and stirred at one-minute increments. Add the vanilla powder if you are using it, and stir well to make sure that the chocolate is nice and smooth. Pour the chocolate mixture over the peanut butter layer.

Chill the entire thing until the chocolate is firm. Turn out onto waxed paper, then flip again (carefully) so that the chocolate is once more the top layer. (I had a bit of trouble with this part; the chocolate shrank away from the edges of the pan beautifully, but the peanut butter didn’t want to release. Next time, I am going to try lining the pan with baking parchment.) Slice in squares, rectangles, triangles, or whatever. Don’t let it get too cold, though, or the chocolate layer will crack when you slice it. After it’s cut, either serve it immediately or put it back into the fridge, as both the chocolate and the peanut butter will get squishy quickly at room temp. If you stack it for storage, even temporarily, it’s probably best to put waxed paper or parchment between the layers.

Wrap skirt + windy day = bad idea.

Me: It looks like my back-of-the-envelope math was a little off; if you want to reject the form, I will redo. Thanks!

Accounting Guy: Try using the Front-of-the-envelope math…It works for me!

Me: Actually, I found a nifty little device that will do the math for me…perfect for people like me, who have liberal arts degrees. It’s called an “abacus”.

Accounting Guy: You’ll get your fingers pinched and stuck in those things…not to mention its hard to put in a purse!  Those of us with accounting degrees use fingers and toes…

Me: I can’t even imagine trying to do math in base 20.

I have a research challenge that has exhausted my paltry research skills.

I am looking for information about the Charak Furniture Company of Boston, MA. I have one of their pieces, a revolving bookcase, that was sent to me by my grandmother. I’d like to get an idea of its value in order to find out if I need a special insurance rider for it. However, there’s not a lot of information out there on the company itself, and although its pieces pop up pretty regularly in auction catalogs, I can’t find any mention that they ever made revolving bookcases, despite the label on mine.

So far, I have discovered that Charak was based in Boston, and considered a very fine furniture- and cabinetmaker. They appear to have been in business from the late 1920s until the 50s or 60s. They were originally known for traditional styles and colonial reproductions, but ultimately ended up making a midcentury modern line of furniture. Many pieces are numbered, and all of them appear to have been handmade with very nice woods, like mahogany and maple. The postwar pieces are allegedly hard to come by; the item I have is dated 1949. They were competitors with Kaplan Furniture of Cambridge, MA (”Beacon Hill Collection”) and the Old Colony Furniture Co. of Boston, MA and, later Nashua, NH. One of their prominent designers was Tommi Parzinger.

This item looks quite similar to mine, but the inlay pattern is different, and mine has a leather top.

Other Observers should feel free to add their field notes in the comments.

Magnus Carpetbane is native to Indianapolis, IN. Approximately 2.5 years old, neutered male; short-haired gray and cream tiger. Subject 5 is an indoor cat with a known residence, and a close associate of Subject 6. Surname was earned as a result of his vigilance and enthusiasm in protecting his owners from a wide variety of floor coverings; most notably area rugs, but also the occasional bathmat, yoga mat, or random piece of dirty laundry. Subject 5 is thought to be a bit dim, having failed remedial door-opening on at least once (complete records not available), been outwitted by chipmunks regularly, and mistaken a set of glass fireplace doors for a window for over a year.

Subject 6: Minx

Minx is native to Louisville, KY; currently resident in Indianapolis, IN. Approximately 14 years old, neutered male; long-haired tuxedo. Subject 6 is an indoor cat with a known residence, and a close associate of Subject 5. In contrast to his close associate, Minx appears to be very intelligent, and has indicated that he comprehends the use of telephones, car keys, doorknobs, lighters, power tools, ATMs, kitchen appliances, and the Electoral College, although he rarely bothers to make use of this knowledge.

Now that the wedding is done, I actually have time to do all the blogging that I couldn’t do when I was too busy doing things. I beg the Reading Public’s indulgence for a few posts, as I know that listening to someone gush about her wedding is pretty boring, when it comes right down to it. That said…

I love it when a plan comes together, I must say. Some of the planning had been going on for quite some time, too, but the reality of it was just so much more than I could have hoped for…mostly because of all the wonderful people who were around to share the fun.

I intended to sleep in after the bachelorette party on Friday night. My body had other plans, though, and got me up at my usual workday time on Saturday morning. This was after being out until 12:30 partying, then coming home to find that the entrances into my neighborhood were all flooded on account of the storm. My brother and I were in my car with our designated driver and another friend, and I was all for parking on high ground and walking through the neighbors’ yards the last few blocks to my house. But Ari said, “Mom’s never in bed before 2:00; let’s try there.” (My parents’ house is three blocks from mine, as the crow flies; it’s less than 5 minutes even as the minotaur mazes, which is a more accurate reflection of the geographical situation.)

It turns out that when there’s a power outage, Mom is in bed before 2:00 AM. So, my brother and I ended up coming back to our parents’ house drunk after midnight…which I believe is the first time that has ever happened for either of us. But hey, we’re both over 30 and we had a designated driver. We opted to park the car at Mom & Dad’s and ride home with Soon-to-be-Spouse, while our friends got picked up at a slightly different location than planned. Our parents were kind enough to hang out with us until our various and sundry rides arrived…which took longer than usual as there were many puddly obstacles to navigation that night, and M was still on the south side of town visiting friends when I called him.

But I digress.

So, it was 6:15 AM on Saturday, and I’d had about 4 hours of sleep. What the heck, I was already up, so I walked over to my car and brought it home, then did some stress-relieving cleaning. Next, went to the gym for Zumba class…which turned out to be just what I needed to sweat out the last of my night out. I also dragged my brother out of bed so that he could go running; serendipitously enough, the gym was having an open house weekend, so no guest pass was required.

We had a few hours before we had to be elsewhere, which I passed mostly in some stress-related cleaning and rearranging of furniture, while we waited for some out-of-town relatives to arrive. I also checked on my parents, who still had no power at their house. Unfortunately, when their power goes out, it’s usually out for days. This time was no exception. And when they don’t have power, they also don’t have running water. Fortunately, we had both at my house, so while I had a few extra people showering at my house, I was sufficiently keyed up to barely notice, let alone care.

When one of my friends got married last year, we had a manicure party on the day before her wedding. I thought it was a great idea, so I arranged one for Saturday afternoon. The nail salon was kind enough not to care that the number of people who showed up was slightly different than the number of people we’d planned for, and got us all done in very good order—much faster than I anticipated, in fact, as I expected to go directly from manicure to rehearsal. Michael and the non-manicure bunch went bowling, meanwhile, which I am told went well. I got home first, and the only thing that kept me from doing a little stress-relieving cleaning and furniture rearranging was uncured nail polish.

If you think you’ve detected a theme here, only imagine how far around the bend my soon-to-be spouse was.

In my own defense, my aunt and uncle were bringing me  a couple of large furniture pieces from my grandmother’s storage unit, and I had to have a place ready for them…which I did, when they arrived about 45 minutes before we had to leave for the rehearsal. It pays to be prepared, let me tell you, because we got everything unloaded in very short order, and with a minimum of cat-wrangling. Magnus didn’t even have time to figure out that he’d been shut into a room. I had to resist the temptation to start reorganizing the books immediately (one of the pieces was a revolving bookcase).

I let the cats go free and we dashed off to the rehearsal. (We also took the opportunity to drop off a couple of folding tables and other odds and ends at the ceremony site.) For those of you who’ve never been to one, a wedding rehearsal usually consists of about 45 minutes of figuring out exactly where everyone needs to stand, based on factors like relative height of both the participants and their footwear, the smoothness of the surface one is standing on, and whether or not the guests have a good view of the back of the bride’s dress.

It’s about as much fun as it sounds, but less organized.

Next, the rehearsal/family dinner. Many people have been very gracious in their feedback regarding the rehearsal dinner, and I want to make it clear that I had absolutely nothing to do with it at all–the credit goes to the mothers, and to the restaurant, all of which were lovely. I got to meet some of Michael’s relatives who’d come in from a couple of different states, which I had been looking forward to. They were absolutely wonderful people, and I wish we’d had more time to spend with them…and everyone else who was there, actually. At every family gathering I’ve been to, there are soooo many people to talk to, and never enough time, especially if you’re trying to spend at least a few minutes with everyone.

I was running on pure adrenaline and excitement and even though I’d been up both late and early, it took me a while to get to sleep…during which time I had intended to load up the car with the various necessaries for the wedding and reception. Ari made me sit down while he took care of it (very clever, my brother…) and then summarily sent me off to bed. Next thing I knew, I was wide awake at 2:39 AM. And hungry. I was up for a couple of hours before I felt tired enough to go back to bed for a couple of hours.

Soon-to-be-Spouse was awake the entire night.

By 7:00 I was up again, and did a little yoga…during which I inadvertently woke up my brother, who was gracefully philosophical about it and did the only sensible thing under the circumstances; he made coffee. (Spouse had gone to breakfast with an aunt and uncle whom he hadn’t seen in several years).

I didn’t start feeling nervous until I got to my hair appointment. I cannot say enough wonderful things about my hairdresser; she is a genius AND a sweetheart. I was the first customer in the salon that morning, and  everyone gravitated over to where the action was. I expect that it was a lot like any workplace when things are slow; I just gave them a topic of conversation. Everyone there was wonderfully nice, providing color commentary on the action and let me join in the joking, chatting, and laughing—which went a long way towards calming me down. I hadn’t planned to get my makeup done along with my hair, but given the way my hands were shaking, it seemed like a good idea.

If you’ve never had your makeup done professionally, imagine sitting in a chair with your eyes closed for about 20 minutes, while various creams and powders are applied to your face in a brisk, decisive manner. While this is happening, you have absolutely no idea what’s going on. You could end up looking like the cover of Vogue; you could end up looking like Tammy Faye Baker.

But, as I said, my hairdresser is a genius, and when I finally looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe it was me. Not even after I put my glasses on. “Now all I have to do is avoid touching my face or my hair for the next eight hours,” I said.

I dashed home, collect my dress and my brother, and we headed out to lunch with the wedding party. My perception of wedding party events is that you either have a bunch of people who have known each other for years and are all abuzz with mutual excitement, or you have a bunch of people who don’t know each other and you end up talking about the weather, your pets, and other safe topics of conversation. We had a mix of both when we started, but one of our ushers had a great story about her job that unfurled like a perfect sitcom episode, and pretty soon everyone was very nearly falling out of chairs laughing. The last of my nervousness melted away, leaving me excited beyond the telling of it.

Spouse and I just signed up for a Community Supported Agriculture program. I’d heard about them, and it’s one of the things I had been wanting to try for a while, but I finally got a round tuit, in the form of an article on farmers’ markets in Indianapolis Monthly. Saturday just ended up being a serendipitous day; I went to the bank, so I had cash (not a usual thing for me), I wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere else, and I was out early enough to actually get to one of the markets. And when one of the growers told me that they were still taking summer season orders…well, I went for it. The grower I chose also has a mushroom barn, which is a huge plus; we can go through a surpring amount of ’shroom in a week.

I’ll let you know how it goes. In the mean time, I need to find some good recipes for radishes.

ETA: One of the things that got me excited about a CSA program, beyond the merits inherent in eating local and feeling good about the methods of food production, was CavLec’s description of her experience. She’s ahead of me on the curve, as usual.

There’s been a lot of flooding in Indiana, but most of it has been south of us. Last week, our shed got its feet wet, which means we’ll be either repairing or replacing the lawnmower. However, we have not had any water in the house, and we’re fine as of this morning.

I’m really glad that we don’t have a basement, though…because the neighbors who do have basements also had indoor pools for a while there.

So, thanks very much to everyone who inquired–we’re fine, as are my parents.

It didn’t rain.

I got married.

There was cake. Good cake.

Oh, and my brother is full of awesomeness.