Dump Cake

I have to admit I was skeptical of my husband's proclaimed love for this "cake" when we were dating in high school. He raves about some of the strangest things, but the one he asks for every birthday is his mom's famous dump cake. And after trying it, I was hooked!

After we got married, Brenda (my mother in law) graciously shared her recipe with me, and after making it, I was even more hooked! Could there be an easier dessert out there? James and I can eat an entire 9x13 of this stuff in two days, easily. 1 if we have company.

Thank you for the recipe Brenda!

Brenda's Dump Cake
Recipe shared by Brenda Behlen

1 large can of pineapple (I used the kind in juice, but you can use the syrup one too)
1 large can of cherry pie filling
1 box yellow cake mix
1/2 bag of coconut
1 stick butter

Then we dump!

1. Dump (get it!?!) the pineapple and pie filling into a greased 9x13 pan. Mix it together.
2. Dump the dry cake mix on top
3. Dump the cocnut on top of that. (I just eyeball this part, lay it on pretty thick, we do at least an inch or so covering the cake mix)
4. Slice the butter into thin pats and lay them on top of the coconut, evenly covering as much of the cake as possible.
5. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 30-45 minutes or until the coconut starts to brown. The butter will soak down and mix into the cake mix.

This cake is great warm or cold. We usually have to fight off the urges long enough to not burn ourselves when it comes out of the oven.

Pie Crust 101

My friend Kelly and I had a ball a few weeks of putting together an apple pie. As you can see a few posts down, we did have some mishaps, but she assures me she ended up with a great pie, and we each went home with a dish of homemade applesauce as well.

Here's Kelly :):

So here are the step by step instructions as I know them. Pioneer Woman I am not, so bear with me! 

Place 2 sticks of cold butter into 2 1/2 cups of flour.  I don't go crazy here and freeze the butter and the bowl or anything, just pull the butter straight from the fridge and drop it in. I also add a Tbs of sugar (for a sweet pie) and a tsp of salt.

Using a pastry blender (or if you're my mom and you're really good--two knives!) and cut into the butter and flour. This is "cutting the fat into the flour" that recipes call for. You'll cut one direction, than another, just keep at it, almost like a kneading motion while holind the pastry blender.

It will start to combine and look like this. We're not quite there yet!

Ahh, there they are. The small peas. When all the little butter blobs are about the size of small peas, you're there. You know all those beautiful flakes in a good pie crust? Those come from these tiny peas melting individually when it's cooked to form little buttery pockets in the crust. 

Add cold water, one tablespoon at a time (again, I don't go nuts with the temp. We don't want the butter to melt, but I don't feel the need to soak the water in ice or anything). I usually add 6-8 tablespoons total. Sometimes more, sometimes less. This will depend on humidity, the water content in butter, just the overal mood of your flour? Just don't dump it all at once. You'll be sorry. 

Mix the water in with your hands or the dough hook after each water addition. Pick up some of the dry mixture and form it into a ball with your hands. Pull it in two, if it crumbles completely, keep adding water. If it's starting to pull apart like dough, stop adding water! It should be somewhat dry, but not totally falling apart.

Form the dough into two discs and wrap them in plastic wrap (or...if you forgot to buy plastic wrap,  in the produce bags from the apples for your pie!) and put them in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. Don't skip this step!! You'll be sorry again.

When you're ready to roll it out, flour everything! The counter, the dough, the awesome rolling pin your mom bought you, anything that might touch the dough.

Roll the disc out in one direction in short little flips of the roller. You don't want to be too hard on the dough, you'll squish all those aforementioned buttery fat pockets.

Flip the dough over and turn it 90 degrees, be sure to throw a little more flour underneath it, on top of it, and on your rolling pin. Continue to roll in short little flips. 

You'll repeat this process of flipping and turning the dough, and rolling it out, several times. You don't want to just leave it flat and get it all rolled out, it will be STUCK to the counter without the flipping turning action. TRUST ME. You'll be....sorry. :)

The easiest way I've found to move the dough is to fold it into fourths (I tried to show Kelly the cool way of rolling it onto your rolling pin almost ended in disaster) and then move it to the pan. It may break some, but you can just press it back together.

With the bottom crust in the pan, repeat the process to roll out the top crust. You can either seal the of the top and bottom crust with a fork, or use your thumb between your forefinger and middle finger to flute the edges.

And voila! You've made a pie. You won't be sorry!

Cooking 101

I recently told someone that I think there should be an "in-between" cooking school that teaches basic techniques. Central Market has an awesome knife skills class, but it seems like the rest of their classes go over making a specific meal or type of cuisine. I'd love to take classes that centered around basic cooking skills - pastry making, sauce making, bread making, etc.

I'm lucky I have my mom, I can call her in a panic, or plan a Sunday afternoon in her kitchen for her to walk me through all the basics. 

Last year, after some very failed attempts, I had my mom walk me through pie crust. A few weeks ago, I passed on the lesson to a friend of mine from work. Before I share our pie crust lesson, I wanted to do an entry sharing what my mom wrote about our afternoon together last year.

RECIPE FOR FAMILY

by Faye Beaulieu

It was never about the piecrust.

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, my daughter, now married for one year to the young man who won her heart the day she turned sixteen, called me with a request.  She wanted a piecrust lesson.

Now you have to understand – this is the daughter who is not at all fazed by the prospect of working with phyllo dough.  She stuffs pork chops, grills salmon, creates fruit cup containers out of citrus rind, and bakes challah.  She has her own cooking blog, for crying out loud.  And she wanted me to teach her how to make piecrust.

I have my high school home economics teacher to thank for this moment.  I grew up in rural Mississippi.  Girls took “homemaking.” Guys took “shop.”  I made the requisite garments during the weeks devoted to sewing, but those lessons never took.  The gathered skirt and button-front blouse hung in my closet unworn.  They earned me an A in class, but I was never happy with the way they looked.  To this day, I’m grateful that I learned to hem, to sew on buttons, and to replace broken zippers.  Bolts of fabric in a cloth store and patterns that promise to turn that fabric into fabulous creations, however, hold no magic for me.

But cooking was another story.  The weeks spent in that unit flew by.  I learned to measure, to whip egg whites, to make emergency substitutions.  Time actually spent in the classroom kitchen was charmed, and I looked forward eagerly to the days when it was my turn to cook.  To this day I regularly pull out a couple of the recipes taken away from those classes; I’ve never found a way to improve on the Chocolate Sheet Cake and its partner icing.

One of the stock items taught every year to first-years was the daunting Caramel Pie.  Not only did the unseasoned cooks-in-training face learning to caramelize sugar, but they also had to figure out how to get an acceptable shell to emerge from the flour, shortening, and salt stacked on the counter. A very patient Mrs. Scott guided hairnetted newbies through the process: cutting the shortening into the flour, adding just enough cold water to make a soft dough, and rolling out the crust.  Sounds easy enough.  Veterans, however, know there’s a reason the refrigerated ReadyCrusts sell as well as they do. 

I agreed to the request for the Saturday afternoon piecrust lesson, and Carla and I jumped into the process, she eager to add another skill to her repertoire, I just happy to have something to share with her.  I showed her how to use the pastry blender to integrate flour and shortening, how to add cold water bit by bit, how to work the resulting mass into soft dough and how to coax a smooth, even product from the dough with the aid of one of my most-treasured possessions: my thirty-year-old wooden rolling pin.  

And as we worked, we talked.  About husbands, about professions, about friends, about life. We relived experiences from pages of our own family history and speculated on the future.  We shared dreams and exchanged opinions on everything from the imminent presidential race to hybrid cars. 

And as the time passed, the pie shell moved from the counter to the baking dish, and we spent a few minutes on fluting techniques and ways to control the color of the crust as it bakes. We decided on a chicken-spinach quiche to fill the shell, and we cleaned the kitchen as it baked.  She left as the sun set, her half of the quiche resting in foil on the floorboard, dinner for her and James.  

It really never was about the piecrust.  It was about a mother and daughter spending time together, reinforcing the structure on which family is built.  And about revisiting those important moments that give us hope for the days ahead.  When she opens her birthday present – a pastry blender, a collection of cookie cutters, and her own heavy wooden rolling pin – I hope the memories of our afternoon together drift up from the tissue paper as well.

I love you mom! Thanks for ALL the lessons, not just the pie crust one :)

Below is my mom, Living United!

Yummy Mistake!

I had a friend come over today for pie crust 101 (more on that later). We set out to make a perfect apple pie so that she could master it and make one for her family's thanksgiving. We went over types of apples, precooking the filling vs cold filling, forming and rolling the crust, everything!

But then I got a little ADD while waiting for the filling to cook, and decided to go check my fantasy football. UGH. Apparently I got a little wrapped up in my "But I'm undefeeeeeated!!" whine, because by the time we went back to check the filling--we pretty much had applesauce.

So we went back to the store for more apples ($8 for 6 apples, inflation is killing my baking budget!). We started over on her pie, but I decided to add a little extra liquid and turn my mistake into applesauce. The result was a hearty, rustic (i.e. lumpy!) and very tasty applesauce!

I'd take a picture, but you know what applesauce looks like, and I don't want to make it into the ugly food blog hall of fame :)

Accidental Applesauce

by Carla

6-8 apples (various kinds, I used a mixture of Granny Smith, Golden Delicious, Honeycrisp, and Fujis)

3 tbs butter

3/4 cup sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

dash of nutmeg

dash of ginger

dash of cloves

1/2 cup of water

1. Peel, core, and slice apples into small slices

2. Melt 3 tbs of butter in a large pan big enough to hold all the apples

3. Toss the apples in the butter until all apples are covered and glossy. Cover and cook the apples over medium heat for 10-15 minutes until they start to turn soft and fall apart. (At this point, go check your fantasy football. Question Ladanian Tomlinson's manhood. Curse your husband for his tight end advice).

4. Uncover and add in water, sugar, and spices. Stir with a spatula and break up remaining apples. Continue to simmer sauce and break up apples for another 10 minutes or so until it resembles applesauce.

I liked it with some chunks of apple left in it. If you like yours smoother, the Joy of Cooking recommends putting it in a food processer or blender. 

I can't wait to use my newfound homemade applesauce to make my cranberry applesauce for thanksgiving!