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| Bring it you delightful confection...I'm ready. I'm going to need some moral support here people! Let me hear it! |
One woman's attempt to win her man's heart through his stomach with no cooking skills and a "What-the-Hell" attitude!
Showing posts with label czech. Show all posts
Showing posts with label czech. Show all posts
Friday, June 10, 2011
Preparation...I've Moved Up a Stage
Kolache Intimidation, Contemplation, and Other Technical Difficulties
Back in the late 1970's and early 1980's, James Prochaska and Carlo DiClemente developed The Stages of Change Model as a way to describe the process smokers go through in trying to quit. Why do I bring this up? While working to improve the blog for you guys, I made a realization: It has been over a year since I have attempted to make a batch of kolaches. A year since I have attempted to master what this blog's name was all about. It got me thinking. Why have I not tried to make these in so long? I have all these new gadgets to help, 3 pages of notes from my kolache lesson with a little old Czech lady, what am I missing? This is what has turned me back around to these stages of change. Many of you have probably heard of these stages, but here is a quick brief for the rest of you, and how they fit in relation to my problem behavior of avoiding making kolaches.
Stage I: Precontemplation (Not yet acknowledging that there is a problem behavior that needs to be changed.)
Stage 4: Action/Willpower (Changing the behavior)
Stage 5: Maintenance (Maintaining the behavior change)
Stage 6: Relapse (Returning to older behaviors and abandoning the new changes)
Kolaches are...well...my nemesis. They are not merely a pastry that can be whipped up in a batch of a dozen or so. They are usually made in batches of 6-10 dozen at a time. They are a labor of love that take an entire day of coddling to make perfectly. It is exhausting and your back is killing you by the time you are done making them. You also need a giant bowl to make them in, and I am concerned that I still don't own a bowl big enough to contain all the dough. Okay, you're right, I'm still making excuses. I have just had so many fails when it comes to kolaches that I don't know if I can stomach one more.
And let me tell you another thing, the good bakers don't write their recipes down. When I went to the Kolache Master's house, she told me to use 10 sifters full of flour. Not cups, no units, not spoonfuls. A sifter full is not a unit of measurement. Why 10 sifters full of flour? Because that was just how many would fit into her stand mixer. Well, what if my stand mixer is not as big as hers? Then what? The whole mess will be off then and I'd have another disaster on my hands like this, this, this, and let's not forget this.
Stage I: Precontemplation (Not yet acknowledging that there is a problem behavior that needs to be changed.)
- "Kolaches?! Who wants those things? No one. So what if I don't make them, get off my back, will ya?"
- "Okay, so it's been a year since I've baked them, but you know, I'm busy and tired. I mean, we can always get them from the store when we visit Jon's parents if we needed some anyway."
- "I think I really need to make some kolaches, lest I forget everything I learned during Kolache lesson 101....over a YEAR AGO!!! Holy Fishsticks, it's been that long!?!!
Stage 4: Action/Willpower (Changing the behavior)
- I am going to make some kolaches! This very weekend!
Stage 5: Maintenance (Maintaining the behavior change)
- Big family get together coming up! Time to make more kolaches!
Stage 6: Relapse (Returning to older behaviors and abandoning the new changes)
- Screw this, I'm not baking anymore. Ever.
Kolaches are...well...my nemesis. They are not merely a pastry that can be whipped up in a batch of a dozen or so. They are usually made in batches of 6-10 dozen at a time. They are a labor of love that take an entire day of coddling to make perfectly. It is exhausting and your back is killing you by the time you are done making them. You also need a giant bowl to make them in, and I am concerned that I still don't own a bowl big enough to contain all the dough. Okay, you're right, I'm still making excuses. I have just had so many fails when it comes to kolaches that I don't know if I can stomach one more.
And let me tell you another thing, the good bakers don't write their recipes down. When I went to the Kolache Master's house, she told me to use 10 sifters full of flour. Not cups, no units, not spoonfuls. A sifter full is not a unit of measurement. Why 10 sifters full of flour? Because that was just how many would fit into her stand mixer. Well, what if my stand mixer is not as big as hers? Then what? The whole mess will be off then and I'd have another disaster on my hands like this, this, this, and let's not forget this.
Will I ever get this right?
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| I can't even get photograph them properly! |
... *sigh* ...
What would Julia think if she heard this? She would be abhorred. "You have to be fearless!!!" she would chirp. She's right, you know. I could spend the rest of life being afraid of these things, or I could say, "What the hell!" and keep on trying. I'm still wavering between Contemplation and Preparation, but now I'm making plans to go purchase what I need: 10 lbs. of flour, 4 dozen eggs, a gallon of cream and 45 lbs of butter. Maybe if I can find my balls tomorrow I will get started, long as I am up by 4 a.m., I should have enough time to finish. Wish me luck.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Visiting Jon’s Parents, Mishaps and Mayhem
Every time I visit Jon’s parents, a culinary marathon is waiting for me. For some odd reason, I am always caught off guard.
We are visiting this weekend because there is a hard freeze, and his parent’s must keep their small town hardware store open for the whole town to fix their 60 year old busted pipes.
Since I know nothing about hardware, busted pipes, or cash registers, I always volunteer to take on the meals. Jon’s mom hates to cook and is better at the store. No big deal... until she calls an hour into my cooking…
You see, Jon’s parents do a lot of philanthropic work by volunteering their time and resources to help mostly religious charitable events. This is where I come in. Jon’s mother always volunteers to make 2-3 desserts for the Knights of Columbus Chicken Fried Steak Dinner or the Catholic Daughter’s Scholarship Fundraiser. What ends up happening is I get this call while I'm lazily making tonight's family meal:
“Would you mind making a dessert for Daddy’s Knight’s Dinner tomorrow? I don’t want to put you under too much trouble…I just told them I would bring a dessert and I am so busy at the store…”
This happens EVERY time I come over. EVERY TIME. It’s not that I mind the cooking. Really, it’s okay…fodder to blog about, but it's the slight feeling of manipulation that bothers me.
“What would you like me to make?” I inquire.
“Oh well I actually need two desserts, something easy that won’t be too much work and your good at,” she says.
“Um, ok well what’s popular among this crowd?"
"Well, mostly pies and cakes because they are going to be put on little plates and sold individually. No cookies, they never sell. Not that pumpkin cake you make because it has to be scooped out. Nothing that has to be scooped out. Something that will hold its shape on a plate,” She says.
*I stare blankly into space...*
“Um, okay. I’ll look through the cookbook.”
“I’m sure whatever you make will be fine, long as it is none of that other stuff. Thanks! *click*
*Facepalm*
Another thing that you must know about Jon’s parents is that they are big “use what we have on hand” kind of people. If they are making a recipe and don’t have one of the ingredients, it is just getting left out. Simple as that. I have eaten soups at their house that have consisted of chicken broth, flour, and egg yolks. That is it. “Dumpling Soup” is what they call it. It looks like white worms in chicken broth. Call me spoiled, but I like ummm more full-bodied food.
That being said, I go and see what they have already available. Flour, sugar, soda, baking powder, pecans, lemons, powdered sugar. Hmmm…I pull out the recipe book that I got tonight's jelly roll dessert recipe from. As I flip through the pages of old world recipes that require a minimum of 50 ingredients, sweat starts to bead up on my forehead. I start to get the kolache panic. I am not going to be able to pull this off.
Now, one may wonder why I just don’t run to the grocery store and pick up a ready made cake, pie, or confectionery delight. The answer is this: In this small town of mostly Czech immigrant families, they KNOW when you cheat. They can take one look at a slice of store bought cake and tell you 50 reasons why it tastes like sugared cardboard. Your dessert will be shunned and ignored. (Except by maybe the great-grandchild that eats that crap at school every day.) You don’t want your name associated with that. God, I love small towns.
You may also ask, “Why does it matter?” Well, good food goes a long way in this town. At the Catholic Church’s annual bazaar, some desserts bring in hundreds of dollars in live auctions. There is a lady who makes a fried cookie known as a “Rosette” every year and puts 20 in large pickle jar. Last year they brought in over $1000 to the church. Another old lady makes a German chocolate cake, $800 if I remember right. It doesn’t matter if the quality is sliding because of their age. What matters is that is Mrs. X’s Rosettes and they are worth it. What also matters is that small towners talk to each other about everyone. If I bring a sub-par dessert, I may not be “good enough” for that Vacek boy. He might be better off dating the pretty Hlavinka girl down the street.
No pressure.
But I digress. I find some reasonable looking recipes: Banana Nut Cake and Carrot Cake. Miraculous, they have carrots and a can of pineapple on hand.
I sent the youngin’s to the store for bananas and a few other items. Let the cooking marathon begin…
We are visiting this weekend because there is a hard freeze, and his parent’s must keep their small town hardware store open for the whole town to fix their 60 year old busted pipes.
Since I know nothing about hardware, busted pipes, or cash registers, I always volunteer to take on the meals. Jon’s mom hates to cook and is better at the store. No big deal... until she calls an hour into my cooking…
You see, Jon’s parents do a lot of philanthropic work by volunteering their time and resources to help mostly religious charitable events. This is where I come in. Jon’s mother always volunteers to make 2-3 desserts for the Knights of Columbus Chicken Fried Steak Dinner or the Catholic Daughter’s Scholarship Fundraiser. What ends up happening is I get this call while I'm lazily making tonight's family meal:
“Would you mind making a dessert for Daddy’s Knight’s Dinner tomorrow? I don’t want to put you under too much trouble…I just told them I would bring a dessert and I am so busy at the store…”
This happens EVERY time I come over. EVERY TIME. It’s not that I mind the cooking. Really, it’s okay…fodder to blog about, but it's the slight feeling of manipulation that bothers me.
“What would you like me to make?” I inquire.
“Oh well I actually need two desserts, something easy that won’t be too much work and your good at,” she says.
“Um, ok well what’s popular among this crowd?"
"Well, mostly pies and cakes because they are going to be put on little plates and sold individually. No cookies, they never sell. Not that pumpkin cake you make because it has to be scooped out. Nothing that has to be scooped out. Something that will hold its shape on a plate,” She says.
*I stare blankly into space...*
“Um, okay. I’ll look through the cookbook.”
“I’m sure whatever you make will be fine, long as it is none of that other stuff. Thanks! *click*
*Facepalm*
Another thing that you must know about Jon’s parents is that they are big “use what we have on hand” kind of people. If they are making a recipe and don’t have one of the ingredients, it is just getting left out. Simple as that. I have eaten soups at their house that have consisted of chicken broth, flour, and egg yolks. That is it. “Dumpling Soup” is what they call it. It looks like white worms in chicken broth. Call me spoiled, but I like ummm more full-bodied food.
That being said, I go and see what they have already available. Flour, sugar, soda, baking powder, pecans, lemons, powdered sugar. Hmmm…I pull out the recipe book that I got tonight's jelly roll dessert recipe from. As I flip through the pages of old world recipes that require a minimum of 50 ingredients, sweat starts to bead up on my forehead. I start to get the kolache panic. I am not going to be able to pull this off.
Now, one may wonder why I just don’t run to the grocery store and pick up a ready made cake, pie, or confectionery delight. The answer is this: In this small town of mostly Czech immigrant families, they KNOW when you cheat. They can take one look at a slice of store bought cake and tell you 50 reasons why it tastes like sugared cardboard. Your dessert will be shunned and ignored. (Except by maybe the great-grandchild that eats that crap at school every day.) You don’t want your name associated with that. God, I love small towns.
You may also ask, “Why does it matter?” Well, good food goes a long way in this town. At the Catholic Church’s annual bazaar, some desserts bring in hundreds of dollars in live auctions. There is a lady who makes a fried cookie known as a “Rosette” every year and puts 20 in large pickle jar. Last year they brought in over $1000 to the church. Another old lady makes a German chocolate cake, $800 if I remember right. It doesn’t matter if the quality is sliding because of their age. What matters is that is Mrs. X’s Rosettes and they are worth it. What also matters is that small towners talk to each other about everyone. If I bring a sub-par dessert, I may not be “good enough” for that Vacek boy. He might be better off dating the pretty Hlavinka girl down the street.
No pressure.
But I digress. I find some reasonable looking recipes: Banana Nut Cake and Carrot Cake. Miraculous, they have carrots and a can of pineapple on hand.
I sent the youngin’s to the store for bananas and a few other items. Let the cooking marathon begin…
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Digression
I've missed a kolache debacle or two as my brain is getting clouded from the countless bags of flour I have wasted.
Let's talk a little about fillings. The traditional fillings of a Czech kolache are prunes, poppy seeds, and cottage cheese. Being that none of those sounded appetizing, I usually go with apple, cherry, strawberry and the like. Jon loves poppy seed. He would eat a dozen poppy seed kolaches if he could.
So during this attempt, I scrounged up a poppy seed filling recipe via my little Czech Cookbook. Let me just say, the directions in this book are not the clearest. Basically you add milk, sugar and 1/4 cup of poppy seeds to a skillet and cook for X amount of time. Well, I cooked for that X amount of time and had poppy seed milk.
I kept cooking until it became a black milk. "Maybe I am not cooking this hot enough," I think to myself. So I crank up the heat.
After 30 minutes, I still have this slushy concoction in the skillet. I don't know why it won't thicken. I get the mess to a boil, simmering it down to something like a consistency of cold bacon grease. I shovel it into the kolaches and bake.
Result: Nastiness!!!! Jon was kind enough to eat one and spare my feelings. The others he begrudgingly took to his office. Poor fellow.
Let's talk a little about fillings. The traditional fillings of a Czech kolache are prunes, poppy seeds, and cottage cheese. Being that none of those sounded appetizing, I usually go with apple, cherry, strawberry and the like. Jon loves poppy seed. He would eat a dozen poppy seed kolaches if he could.
So during this attempt, I scrounged up a poppy seed filling recipe via my little Czech Cookbook. Let me just say, the directions in this book are not the clearest. Basically you add milk, sugar and 1/4 cup of poppy seeds to a skillet and cook for X amount of time. Well, I cooked for that X amount of time and had poppy seed milk.
I kept cooking until it became a black milk. "Maybe I am not cooking this hot enough," I think to myself. So I crank up the heat.
After 30 minutes, I still have this slushy concoction in the skillet. I don't know why it won't thicken. I get the mess to a boil, simmering it down to something like a consistency of cold bacon grease. I shovel it into the kolaches and bake.
Result: Nastiness!!!! Jon was kind enough to eat one and spare my feelings. The others he begrudgingly took to his office. Poor fellow.
The Czech Museum and Ulterior Motives
So, Houston has a Czech Heritage Museum. I think to myself, "What a way to spend a afternoon with Jon and his parents.They will think I am such a great girl being interested in their cultural heritage."
Well, I had an ulterior motive or two.
Ulterior motive #1: Scope out the place as a wedding reception site. The Texas Wedding Magazine boasted that it was as cheap as $30 per person. Well... it was nice, but way too small to accommodate his Catholic family of 10,000 and my family of 4. So scratch that.
Ulterior Motive #2: Peruse gift shop for authentic Czech cookbook. Result: Major success! *Smarty-pants dance!* They had one specifically for Czech kolaches and sweets. "Yee haw!" as we say in Texas.
I dashed home and gathered the necessary kolache ingredients right away. Jon was not pleased to say the least.
"I don't want you to get upset when they don't come out right," he says. "I don't want to come over and find you crying on the floor again."
Did I mention that Jon is oh so supportive of this kolache project?
Well, I had an ulterior motive or two.
Ulterior motive #1: Scope out the place as a wedding reception site. The Texas Wedding Magazine boasted that it was as cheap as $30 per person. Well... it was nice, but way too small to accommodate his Catholic family of 10,000 and my family of 4. So scratch that.
Ulterior Motive #2: Peruse gift shop for authentic Czech cookbook. Result: Major success! *Smarty-pants dance!* They had one specifically for Czech kolaches and sweets. "Yee haw!" as we say in Texas.
I dashed home and gathered the necessary kolache ingredients right away. Jon was not pleased to say the least.
"I don't want you to get upset when they don't come out right," he says. "I don't want to come over and find you crying on the floor again."
Did I mention that Jon is oh so supportive of this kolache project?
The First Attempt
Okay, looking back on my first kolache attempt, I was a little cocky. The main problem I had was actually locating a recipe. I searched the Internet quite a bit until I ran down a recipe posted from an old "Texas Monthly" article. So I gave it a whirl. I mean, how many recipes could there be for bread with fruit in it?
For those of you who are confused: a kolache is a fluffy, pastry kind of like a danish. The difference is that the texture is much fluffier and buttery. Not heavy and sugary. Many people think of a meat and bread combo as a kolache. In Czech, a meat/bread combo is a "kloboshniki" which is probably as butchered a spelling as you can get. I just called those "pigs-in-a-blanket", but I am a little redneck I guess.
So...I digress.
I gathered up all the ingredients and went to work. Little did I realize that the recipe made 6 dozen kolaches!!! It took every bowl, pan, and surface in my 600 sq ft apartment to produce the dough. Six and a 1/2 cups of flour! Crap! FOUR sticks of butter! GEEZ!
Well, needless to say, I was skimpy on some of the ingredients and a little too generous with others.
Results: This batch has been dubbed, and will forever be referred to as, "apple biscuits". The breading came out white like a Bisquick biscuit. They were not what I would call soft, but they also weren't so hard that it would roll off the table and kill the cat. Very frustrated, I resolved to make a new batch...the next time I found 8 hours of free time during graduate school.
For those of you who are confused: a kolache is a fluffy, pastry kind of like a danish. The difference is that the texture is much fluffier and buttery. Not heavy and sugary. Many people think of a meat and bread combo as a kolache. In Czech, a meat/bread combo is a "kloboshniki" which is probably as butchered a spelling as you can get. I just called those "pigs-in-a-blanket", but I am a little redneck I guess.
So...I digress.
I gathered up all the ingredients and went to work. Little did I realize that the recipe made 6 dozen kolaches!!! It took every bowl, pan, and surface in my 600 sq ft apartment to produce the dough. Six and a 1/2 cups of flour! Crap! FOUR sticks of butter! GEEZ!
Well, needless to say, I was skimpy on some of the ingredients and a little too generous with others.
Results: This batch has been dubbed, and will forever be referred to as, "apple biscuits". The breading came out white like a Bisquick biscuit. They were not what I would call soft, but they also weren't so hard that it would roll off the table and kill the cat. Very frustrated, I resolved to make a new batch...the next time I found 8 hours of free time during graduate school.
Welcome to the Kersten Kolache Project
In the vein of the Julie/Julia Project (but not near as famous or wild), I am embarking on a project to score a win in the heart of my Czech boyfriend. It all started a little over 3 years ago. He took me to his little Czech town in south Texas and introduced me to the sweet treat know as a Czech Kolache.
I wish I would have started chronicling this a bit earlier, but as you will probably figure out, I am lazy and a procrastinator (maybe I am not too different from Julie Powell after all).
So let me start from the beginning. The first attempt...
"Jokingly" he stated:
"I'll marry you when you can make a good kolache."
"I'll marry you when you can make a good kolache."
So it began...
I wish I would have started chronicling this a bit earlier, but as you will probably figure out, I am lazy and a procrastinator (maybe I am not too different from Julie Powell after all).
So let me start from the beginning. The first attempt...
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