Homiquest Creme Anglaise

This adventure has its roots in Christmas 2004 when I made a chocolate mousse pie with toasted pecan crunch. The recipe called for mounds of whipped cream to top the concoction off; however, my mother and I, prefering creme anglaise to whipped cream, decided to venture into the world of custards instead. It was simple enough when I made it the first time, so I have since considered creme anglaise part of my cooking repetoire. I had been craving this pie for about four months, so I made it again for Christmas 2006. However, it was an abject failure. The mousse was gritty, not sweet and didn't set well. The creme anglaise was an adventure of its own.

First, I started with Julia Child. Because where better to obtain a french sauce recipe than Mastering the Art of French Cooking? Nowhere. As I get into this story, I must first say that I am an engineer through and through. I like specific instructions. I think one of the best demonstrations of this was one time when I started screaming at a lemon curd recipe (after stirring patiently for 30 minutes): "What the fuck does stir until thick mean????? Seriously! What are you doing to me? Huh?" It's even better is when a recipe gives me a "very thick" instruction without any reference section in which the differences between thick and very thick are outlined (an engineer's cookbook would refer to viscosity). So Julia's instructions to stir my creme anglaise until "mixture coats the back of a spoon" was none too helpful. I know this coating of back of spoon probably means something significant. But it's probably like the difference between a simmer and a boil: you just don't know exactly what it is until someone explains it to you, but every cookbook assumes that you already know it.

So, I made Julia's recipe. When it looked to me like my mixture was coating the back of a spoon, took it off the stove, dutifully covered mixture with plastic wrap, and put it in refrigerator. An hour later, I checked on my mixture and it was not a thick creme, it was a liquid milk. My mother and I had a conference. This would not do. We decided to remake the recipe. Take two.

Some background. Custards are made like this: you heat up some milk, (if you are really gourmet) you steep your vanilla bean for 20 minutes or so, reheat the milk, pour the milk in to a mixture of egg yolks and sugar at a slow drizzle so as not to curdle the egg yolks, pour everything back into the pot and cook the mixture on the stove until it thickens. Or reaches a temperature between 155 and 170 degrees (the range I saw in the multitudes of recipes I have read). Or coats the back of a spoon. Then you strain the mixture, cover it with plastic wrap (placing the wrap right against the mixture so as not to form a nasty skin), and cool in fridge.

Now, the three options for knowing it's time to take your custard off the stove can be broken down as follows:

1. Until mixture thickens: useless for someone like me whose thoughts while cooking go like this: "Is it thick? Maybe I just think it's thicker? Maybe it is thicker? Is it thick? It looks thicker. I think the relative effort to pass spoon through mixture is larger, but is it?" Etc. Unless provided with a rheometer and a target viscosity, this is useless to a novice.
2. Until reaching a given temperature: This is the ideal solution; however, the accuracy of candy thermometers is very poor. Very, very poor indeed. They sell candy thermometers for $95 at some stores. Those are probably the accurate ones.
3. Coats the back of the spoon: Someone has to explain this to you. It's really meaningless until someone does. Really, unless you have magical custard knowledge, you have no idea what this really means.

Take two of our creme anglaise was better. My mother showed me exactly how to temper egg yolks. As I was stirring my mixture on the stove, I noticed it getting thicker. COOL. Now, the recipe does not give specific thickness instructions, but it does give an approximate time frame and temperature range. I was using my mother's candy thermometer which came to me with the caveat: "It might read 10 degrees too hot. Or too cold. I'm not sure, but it's not entirely accurate." My mixture was thick before I had reached the low end of my time or temp range, so I dutifully continued to stir. Then I noticed chunks. And more chunks. My mixture curdled. Gross. We tossed it out.

Take three. I was a bit gun shy, so I kept the stove low. I stirred for something like 40 minutes. The temperature never got very high on the broken candy thermometer, but I was under the illusion that it had thickened. But it hadn't, and we had anglaise soupe.

So yes, on Christmas Eve, I made creme anglaise three times and ended up with no creme anglaise. Which is ok, cause we ended up with crappy pie, too.

On Friday, I had a party. My craving for this pie had not gone away; I was going to make it. I was going to succeed. I researched chocolate mousse and creme anglaise recipes. I settled on the Cooks Illustrated Chocolate Mousse recipe from 1996, which makes a fabulous mousse that is creamy, thick, chocolaty though very complicated. I also settled on the Cooks Illustrated Creme Anglaise recipe. I bought a $35 candy thermometer from Williams-Sonoma to assist with my efforts. I was ready. But anyway, I'll get to my point and say, that my mixture started to curdle because my damned thermometer was off... way off. It curdled at 120 degrees when every recipe I've read says that the low end of curdling range is 155 to 165 (later testing revealed water boiling at 190ish degrees per this thermometer). But I strained it multiple times to remove all curdles and to cool mixture down and was successful.

Lesson of all this: Unless you are a stubborn jackass, use whipped cream.

Happy New Year

I spent yesterday in a post New Year's haze. I should have called Kelly to thank her for picking my sorry ass up at Anne's around 3 am, but I didn't. I walked to Starbucks and spent half of the walk wondering if it was totally horrible for me to puke in the empty field. However, caffeine and junk food helped significantly. All drinking too much does is remind me why I don't do it very often.

For some reason, I'm in the spirit of this new year thing. Normally I'm all: fuck the new year.

New Year's Resolution: To meet new people. Why? Cause I don't know many people, and I'd like to know more. How? Not sure. This always seems to be the hardest part of meeting people. Whatevs. I'll figure it out.

New Year's Goals:

1. To lose 60 more pounds.
2. To move. Either to move inside the loop or to Chicago.
3. To make a custom banner for my blog.

What's the difference between a New Year's Resolution and a New Year's Goal? I'm really fucking great at achieving goals. I will do these things. And who the fuck cares if they don't meet their New Year's resolution? Not me.

I gotta jet to work.

every day's a holiday

how fun is the first quarter. though april is the second quarter i don't care. stop taking away my joy.


jan 25 - ghostland observatory @ warehouse. and this time, i will not let melissa beat the shit out of me prior to the show. and i will be there getting my groove on.


feb 22 - midlake @ walters. will be my third time seeing these bright young lads. first time i saw them was at the proletariat. one of the band members walked by me like 20 times carrying drinks during the opening act (though i had no idea who he was cause that's kinda how i am). i saw the dude get on stage and i thought, ha that's funny i paid to see the drink bitch play.


apr 6 - tv on the radio @ meridian. missed them last time, but not anymore. though the meridian scares me when everyone starts jumping up and down. i think i'm going to fall to my death through the old, rickety floor.

we are excited.


oh, and the name my brightest diamond is ironic. ain't nothing bright about this woman. i'm gonna climb to the roof and scream: "my life is empty and shallow" at the oncoming traffic. or something melodramatic like that.


Chew

Miami What the fuck is this Movie about Vice

So, the first time I watched Miami Vice, I commented that it was a bit hard to follow. I just attempted to watch it for the second time, and it wasn't any easier. The thought of spending another 2 hours and 20 minutes trying to follow Michael Mann's alleged movie was too much for me to take. Of course, I keep getting distracted every time they call the boats "go fast boats" like what fucking English major came up with that? "Well, they are fast and they are boats and you use them to like uh go places." I also got distracted by Mr. Colin "I don't need no stinking accent coach" Farrell's accent which is seriously, the worst thing I've ever heard. Ed Norton's English accent in The Illusionist is almost (almost) as bad. The Illusionist is a movie that, I must add, takes place in fucking Vienna. Takes place in Vienna yet all these assholes are running around speaking with English accents like that makes the shit more authentic. "Well, I didn't believe it was the olden days until you started speaking with that loverly English accent." Anyway, I thought about taking notes on Miami Vice. They would look like this:

"Act I, Scene 1: A boat race happens. Jamie Fox and Colin Farrel look around like they are important. There are prostitutes.

Act I, Scene 2: In a club. There are lots of people. There are prostitutes. Even Jamie looks like he doesn't know what the fuck is going on, and he allegedly has a script.

Act I Scene 3: In a car on the freeway. Dude driving really fast and speaking cryptically. Colin looks concerned.

Act I Scene 4: On the roof. Everyone looks concerned. There's a whole fucking posse now. No prostitutes.

Act I Scene 5: On the side of the freeway. Colin and Jamie have magically overtaken dude's car. Dude's like all freaking out like he snorted too much coke. Then he steps in front of a speeding truck. See kiddies, that's why we don't do too much coke and then talk to Vice cops on the side of the freeway.

Act I Scene 6: Peeps get shot. Jamie's like pissed. There's fucking Nazis and guns and shit, it's on.

Act I Scene 7: The crux of Act I. It has become obvious that there is a leak somewhere and that's how the Nazi's knew that the dude who stepped in front of the truck was in with the Feds and Jamie and Colin are gonna find out who."

Editor's Note: we could have gotten to that in a much more clear and quick way.

Whatever, I've turned it off. Now I'm watching LOTR: Return of the King except it's on TNT, so there's commercials all the damn time. Wouldn't it be cool if they could digitally add product placement to the movie for TV. Like instead of munching on Lembas bread day in and day out (I mean, who the fuck knows what Lembas bread is anyway), they could snack on Kit Kat or Ritz or some shit. Frodo'd be all: "Sam, are we going to have enough Kit Kats to make it to Mordor? We are? Then give me a break, give me a break, break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar, homes." Or they could have corporate sponsorships: Instead of Dark Lord Sauron's Mordor, we'd make it Dark Lord Twinkie's Mordor. That way, I don't have to watch the 5,000th commercial for Arruth apartment homes. This could be fun. Seriously, Anu, are you listening: THEY COULD RIDE AROUND IN DEERE GATORS INSTEAD OF ON HORSES.
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I am recovering from my annual ass kicking. During this ass kicking, (as Neal Stephenson puts it) "a distant cousin - a stupendous badass of a virus" infects me and puts me out of commission for four to five days. Today, I woke up and was convinced that I was better and that I was going to shop and single handedly prevent this country from entering a recession. However, as Marquise de Merteuil puts it in Dangerous Liasons: "Illusions are by their nature sweet," and after engaging in the arduous task of washing my hair, I quickly realized that I was not better and that I would spend yet another day confined to my recliner.

Here's my newest cd brought to us by my boys from the old VA Beach (though I have much less of an affinity for hos than they do. Well, and the most dangerous thing about my corner of Virginia Beach was the jellyfish in the Bay... but seriously, those fuckers sting, fo real):

I hate being wrong

“Hello, MareCark Perscription billing.”
“Look, you sent me a bill saying my balance is 31-60 days overdue and it’s not.”
“Ma’am, we didn’t receive your payment.”
“Well, I sent it. I did. And you charged me.”
“Ma’am, our records show that you didn’t.”
“Well, I don’t pay bills late. I know you charged me for it.”
“Yeah, what about that Visa bill that was a month late and they had to call you.”
“Ummm, well, HOW DO YOU EVEN FUCKING KNOW ABOUT THAT?”
“Ma’am we know everything.”
“Whatever, let me log onto my bank’s website and I will show you that you charged me.”
"Ok.”
“Oh, well, you didn’t charge me. BUT I TOLD YOU THAT YOU COULD. I SENT THE THING IN.”
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like to make a payment now.”
“Uhhh, yeah sure sorry.”

Top 10 Albums of 2006

Without further ado. I know all three of you have been waiting with breath that is baited. Voila, my favorites of the year.

10. Wolfmother Wolfmother - Cause it's fun, dammit.

9. TV on the Radio Return To Cookie Mountain - "I Was a Lover" is on my list of favorite songs ever.

8. Love is All Nine Times the Same Song – Love child of the Beach Boys, Sonic Youth and dunno, Blondie. Don't listen to me; I don't know what I'm talking about.

7. Yeah Yeah Yeahs Show Your Bones – Cause I spent two months listening to it. And I resurrected it this week to see if I still liked it, and I did. Great live show, too.

6. M. Ward Post-War – I think that everyone should buy this album.

5. Camera Obscura Let’s Get Out of This Country – Nominated for the album that I would think me least likely to enjoy. Who would ever think I would be a fan of 50's inspired love songs?

4. Joanna Newsom Ys - I didn’t think I would like this, but it’s just amazing. Her lyrics are darkly astounding, and her voice, which I thought I would find grating, is perfect for the music.

3. Be Your Own Pet Be Your Own Pet – More fun for the ears. This music is silly, fun and loud. And they are good live.

2. Beirut The Gulag Orkestar- I love to dance around my apartment to this album. I love to sing this album in my car. This album is infectiously beautiful.

1. Girl Talk Night Ripper - Perhaps the most fun thing that’s happened to my ears in quite a while.

Runners up –

- Midlake Trials of Van Occupanther – I’ve listened to this album many many times, but I don’t love it like I do Banman and Slivercork. That being said, it’s still beautiful.

- The Black Keys Magic Potion In all honesty, I don’t know that I’ve listened to this very closely yet. I just love the Black Keys and want them on my list.

Jack

I had a freak out moved the blog and have now reclaimed my property. Well, sorta reclaimed it as my former url now gives you porn, so we added a 'k'. I quite like that my old site gives you boobies. Now people who were reading my blog that I don't want to get tits instead of the word fuck a lot. Whoot Whoot (gangsta owl). Anyway, the movement/freak out is a long story, one that's not particularly compelling. Though I have an urge to write and will now proceed to:

There are jackhammers outside my office. When the City of Houston decides to bust up some road, it does so with uncommon bureaucratic efficiency, with no regard for the fact that your job requires you to think and that, in general, jack hammer noises are not helpful when trying to think. That’s right jackhammer man, you audit a 30 MEG Excel spreadsheet with a jackhammer in the background and then we’ll talk.

The road construction people put up signs, “Kirkwood Northbound will be Closed Midnight Dec 1 – Midnight Dec 3” like three weeks before they actually close the overpass. If it were a project my company was running, like a day before we were to close said road, we would have to put up a sign that said, “Sorry, Kirkwood Northbound will be closed on some different day. We promise to give you 12 hours notice. Thanks.” I suppose we would do that once, find our new roads blown up by pissed of commuters and get better at project planning pretty darn quick. Imagine if the company constructing the Katy Freeway was to run the war in Iraq: “We will close the city of Baghdad from Midnight Dec 1 – Midnight Dec 3 for Systematic Suicide Bomber Extermination.”

Traffic on my side of town is getting pretty gnarly. If we were, you know, smart in Houston, we would be like the Inuit and their snow, and develop 80 words for traffic. I almost got in a brawl over Thanksgiving with some Northern Virgnina residents who were trying to say their traffic was bad. I was all: “Look motherfuckers, unless you commute 50 miles on 66, which you don’t, you’re oh-poor-me-the-beltway-is-backed-up bullshit ain’t flying. I mean, your sprawl is at least limited in several directions by large fucking bodies of water. In Houston, the length of your commute is limited only by your desire to spend any daylight hours outside of your motor vehicle.”

Anyway, traffic on my side of town is getting pretty gnarly. It took me six light cycles to get through a light I normally cruise through in two. I have to wait to get out of my apartments so that I can turn left when I used to just bust out of them. My current working theory is that the level of chaos on my stretch of I-10 is causing more people to choose the surface roads. I have nothing to back up this theory other than the fact that I have lived in Houston for two years and thereby consider myself a badass traffic engineer as do all Houstonians. If only this lane did this, why are they building the road like this, if they just added another EZ-Tag lane, it would be perfect, why don’t you take the tollway, etc.

The worst part about the jackhammers outside is the large expanse of road they have to hammer before they move on to the next block. In other words, I don’t see them going away. And the benefits of this glorious road construction won’t be felt for years. In fact, those of us either living or working outside the beltway on I-10 will spend 2007-2008 in hell as they take out each ramp to/from the beltway one at a time. This will be done in an attempt to 1) widen the road 2) increase visits to psychiatrists 3) generally discourage people from living and working on opposite sides of the beltway and 4) generally test the mental stability of all Houstonians as they live through a communal version of Bombay Highways.

Peace out bitches. Glad to be back.