Cooking day? . . . cont. (pg 2)

Alright, now if you just popped in, make sure you read the blog right before this . . . note: this is page 2.

So Justin arrived home at approximately 4pm and we got a slow start but were finding our groove by 6pm.

We started with the Moussaka

Oh, I want to take this moment and apologize for zero pictures of this . . . I totally should have documented this.

Ok, so we made the base of the Moussaka . . . Justin decided to make the white sauce crust cheese thing topping (it has an official name but I can’t pronounce it, much less spell it) at the firehouse right before dinner and cook the whole thing there. Great, that cuts off about an hour and a half of work.

Ok, boys at this point are falling apart. So I quit at that point to hold them and finally get them ready for bed. So it was around 7pm. We laid them down at around 7:45pm and started up again around 8pm.

So we set off on the Cheese Moon Pies. This requires us to make our own pastry. This is my favorite thing to do. I make a lot of Quiches which require me to make pastry for the crust . . . it’s cheap, easy and delicious. So . . . I claim this task for my own and set off in anticipation. I usually make a pastry crust with normal flour, this one called for self-rising flour . . . and that’s where the differences began. Then I melted the butter and used olive oil and milk . . . ok, now WAY different than what I usually do . . . but I stick to the recipe (cuz I’m not that good of chef . . . uh, I’m not a chef at all). Anyhoo, the pastry dough is very dry, compared to my extremely limited experience with pastry prep. So, I’m worried I screwed it up but I cover it and put it in the fridge, like the recipe stated, and waited 20 minutes . . . apparently it was taking a power nap (recipe book said it was resting). Ok, I take it out and it barely sticks together at all . . . it’s dry. But I proceed, not wanting to add something that would mess it up totally. To make a, potentially, long story short . . . it rolled out very nicely. Ok, honesty . . . it looked fine and worked fine AFTER it was rolled out BUT it was tough tough tough to roll out. To say the least, my arms, mostly my triceps, hurt soooooo bad today. Anyway it took a long time to roll out thin (and re-roll and re-roll again and again and again . . . about 10 times) and cut 20 circles . . . which then Justin filled with the feta mixture, folded them in half and glazed with egg yolk. We ate three of them total . . . hey, that’s not bad. Turned out great. mmm, I do like the feta cheese.

Ok, by the time this is all done it’s nearing 9:15pm. Somehow, in that four hours of driving and shopping, Justin did not purchase the items for the Baklava or anything for the dressing to go with the salad. Heaven forbid we buy ready-made dressing. But we found a good recipe so I went with it.

Oh fantastic . . . I’m elected to go to the store. Fred Meyers is less than a mile from my house so I decide that is the destination of choice and I pray they have everything, down to the filo pastry sheets. Oh, they had that and more (of course I paid about double than that of Wal-Mart), bulk nuts, bulk herbs . . . aaahh, I am drawn to the bulk sections, no reason why. So I indulge in getting even the herbs for the dressing in the bulk section. Freddy’s had everything I need, so I paid and left. I walked in the door about 10-ish pm.

This is when we decided the Baklava needed to be made. I think that’s basically what we were down to . . . and that’s also when I started to allow sweet notions of upcoming sleep to invade my brain.

Oops, the filo pastry sheets are frozen (huh, that must be due to my getting them from the frozen section at the store) and we have to allow them to thaw prior to using them. Yeah, the directions are true, we tried to use half frozen ones, it just doesn’t work. Um, thawing takes a minimum of 2 hours . . . the sweet notions of sleep are slipping away. I take a deep breath and watch them fade in the distance.

Also, I think it’s about this time I decide I’m not really as chipper about cooking his Greek masterpiece anymore but I’m still dedicated.

Justin starts on the filling for the Baklava. Lots of honey, sugar, nuts and lemon. I sat on the kitchen counter and de-shelled Pistachio nuts (why J couldn’t of bought Pistachios without shells, not sure) But it gave me an excuse to sit down, which felt mighty good. The filling and pastry sheets were ready about the same time . . . so layered the filo pastry (very thin sheets of pastry), one by one and brushed butter over each one . . . about 8 sheets thick and then put part of the filling on that and then repeated a couple of times (mostly accurate). From there, we put it in the oven and proceeded on the syrup that makes it a finished product. Baklava cooks for an hour. :/

So we are just hanging out, starting to relax and I slowly start to allow my expectations of sleep arise from the depths to which they plummeted 3 hours earlier . . . that’s right . . . it’s now after 1am, though I stopped looking at the clock around midnight.

Justin gets quiet, which is typical when I’m just rambling on about random stuff (which is typical of me when I’m super tired) but then I look up and the expression of anxiety on his face gave away secret thoughts.

“What?” I say, a little brisker than I intended.

“I don’t think I made enough food,” he finally mumbles, almost under his breath.

Yeah, I had made my sleepy discomfort known pretty clearly for the last hour or so and my cranky level had risen a few notches . . . allowing for sudden unexpected outbursts of frustration and cynicism.

I tried my very best to convince him that he made plenty (though I had my doubts). But he was un-convince-able. Dangit!

“Do you think you can make a Quiche or two?” he asks.

Ah, the ignorance of the amount of time it takes to make a good Quiche . . . one that strangers will eat and pass judgment.

But . . . to my surprise . . . I agree to make it. Nearing 3 am.

As I’m sifting flour and cutting cold butter into one inch squares. Justin embarks on using up the rest filo pastry in a made up meat pie thing he came up with (actually parts of many quiche recipes stuck together) I finish up the pastry for the Quiche, set it in the fridge to sleep (rest) . . . wishing I could join it in it’s slumber, for 30 minutes and then help Justin with the filo pastry (pesky filo pastry).

Ok, Baklava is removed from the oven, pastry is snoozing the fridge (it has 15 minutes before I wake it up), Justin has the insides to his meat pie thing in the skillet on the stove and I sit down at the kitchen table, feeling all the day’s fatigue to it’s fullest. Justin finishes putting his creation together and puts it in the oven. I roll out my Quiche pastry (much easier than cheese moon pie pastry) and set it up to bake it blind (um, fancy way of saying pre-bake the pastry before adding the insides). This takes a total of 30 minutes. We both end up, half asleep (I’m nearing 3/4 asleep), on the couch. I don’t think we said much, that I remember anyway. But Justin announces he won’t be getting any sleep because he has to take off for the firehouse at 5:30 am and it’s nearing 4 am. We hang out, or whatever you wanna call it, for half an hour. I fry up the stuff for the Quiche and get it all put together and in the oven to bake for 45 minutes and then land back on the couch.

The house smells so good! The super-sweet of Baklava lacing the earthy scent of pastry baking . . . somehow garlic weaved it’s way in but only added to the depth of the delicious scents. My stomach growled . . . but I was denied even a taste-test of Baklava! How dare he!

Justin was in his full-awake state preparing his turn-outs, gear and food to haul to the firehouse. I believe I warned him the Quiche was still in the oven when I crashed and instantly fell asleep on the bed but I won’t swear by it. He was gone when I woke at 8:30am and so was my Quiche.

Happy eating to shift B-2 and Salem fire!