Thursday, January 22nd, 2009 09:21 am
my god the inhumanity
I am this close to offering sex in exchange for someone to go to the Kolache Shop and get me some damned kolache. One peach, one ham and cheese. Maybe also an apricot.
Kolache, God's perfect food.
PS, just told boss DIAF because he will not bring me kolache in exchange for actually doing work today. So far, this is not working.
PSS, the meat and cheese one is actually called a klobasnek. It is still damned delicious.
I'd settle for breakfast tacos, actually. If I had to. Though really, considering, I keep worrying (and by this I mean hoping) one day we will all wake up to a monstrous breakfast food known as the kolachtaco, because speaking as she who was forcing down terrifying saurkraut because I was told it was the food of my ancestors (this, I am convinced, is why they came to America circa Before Today; to get away from the saurkraut), my ancestors really didn't do that great with food all the time, so when they do get it right, it damn well needs celebration and you really can do anything with salsa.
...kolache rancheros. Oh hell yes.
This is brought to you by the letter H (for hungry), the letter P (for the fact I could not get peanut butter since apparently we will all die like chickens or something if we eat it now? I cannot believe my life no longer includes peanut butter cups) and the number 1, which is me. Eating cheetos, and no kolache rancheros (if you cannot see the humor in those two words written together, come on. That is awesome. Just don't add saurkraut.)
ETA: I am now out of cheetos. People should fear me.
Kolache, God's perfect food.
PS, just told boss DIAF because he will not bring me kolache in exchange for actually doing work today. So far, this is not working.
PSS, the meat and cheese one is actually called a klobasnek. It is still damned delicious.
I'd settle for breakfast tacos, actually. If I had to. Though really, considering, I keep worrying (and by this I mean hoping) one day we will all wake up to a monstrous breakfast food known as the kolachtaco, because speaking as she who was forcing down terrifying saurkraut because I was told it was the food of my ancestors (this, I am convinced, is why they came to America circa Before Today; to get away from the saurkraut), my ancestors really didn't do that great with food all the time, so when they do get it right, it damn well needs celebration and you really can do anything with salsa.
...kolache rancheros. Oh hell yes.
This is brought to you by the letter H (for hungry), the letter P (for the fact I could not get peanut butter since apparently we will all die like chickens or something if we eat it now? I cannot believe my life no longer includes peanut butter cups) and the number 1, which is me. Eating cheetos, and no kolache rancheros (if you cannot see the humor in those two words written together, come on. That is awesome. Just don't add saurkraut.)
ETA: I am now out of cheetos. People should fear me.
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From:And I *really* miss breakfast tacos. Why, oh why, can Taco Cabana not open up an outpost up here? I mean, I realize it's not great Mexican food, but it's real.
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From:And what's wrong with sauerkraut? (I actually had sauerkraut with potatoes for dinner yesterday.)
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From:I want to try it again when the memories of childhood have faded more.
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From:Also, I think it is a sign of my Texas heritage that I looked at kolache rancheros, processed the idea for a second, and then shrugged and thought "hell, I'd eat it." In the words of Joey Tribbiani: Kolache? Good. Huevos Rancheros? Good. Kolache Ranchero? GOOOOOOOOOD.
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From:This! You cannot go wrong here. The only thing I'd hope is no avocado, but oh my God imagining the art that is kolache rancheros? Just. Yes.
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From:Also, the last time I did a big Dexter marathon, I wound up getting such a craving for breakfast food from seeing the opening credits repeatedly that I visited IHOP and Denny's several times over the next month or two, and bought quite a few Jack in the Box breakfast burritos to get that egg-and-sausage fix.
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From:Oh, and onions. Onions in everything. Mom couldn't cook if there were no onions in the house. More than once, I was dispatched to the market on an emergency onion run. The preparation for just about every dish began with the cutting up of an onion (or two, or three . . .)
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From:I think I would have less saurkraut trauma if there had just been less of it when I was a kid. *flashbacks*
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From:I could give you the recipe, if you're so inclined.
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From:6 oz cream cheese, softened
1 C butter, softened
2 T sugar
2 C flour
2 t baking powder
1/4 t salt
2 eggs, beaten
Mix cream cheese and butter. Add sugar. In seperate bowl, combine flour, salt and baking powder. Add eggs and dry mixture alternatively to butter mixture. Divide dough in half, wrap in plastic wrap (NB: I use wax paper that's been sprayed with pam, it's a sticky dough) and chill several hours until firm.
Preheat oven to 375. Roll out dough (to about 1/4" thickness) and cut into 3" squares. Put a dollop of filling in the center of the square and fold opposite corners to the center. (in our house, we use raspberry, marionberry or ranier cherry jam; you fold the dough so the cookie looks like a bow tie). Bake 10 mins until just starting to brown. Dust with confectioner's sugar when cool.
Enjoy!
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From:Proof that English is the slut of the language world.
"You have a word for something that we don't have? *waves* Bring it on in! You have a word that is similar but not exactly the same as three other words we already have? *waves* Bring it on in!"
♥
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From:— James D. Nicoll
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From:I once had a fabulous sweet sauerkraut mixed with sour dried cherries that was unlike any other sauerkraut I'd ever have: it was a Dutch/German restaurant in the Chicago area. I've purchased large glass jars of kosher sauerkraut (which does NOT taste like the stuff one puts on hotdogs) and cooked it up with dried cherries from Trader Joe's to approximate the taste and it worked out pretty well. Not a combo I'd have thought would work, but it really does.
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From:There was a shop in one of the Dallas suburbs that made them fresh every morning. You had to get there by 7a though, because they sold out fast. The little sausage ones were my favorite, but all of the fruit ones were good, too.
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From:Greece in general was an excellent food place – breakfast of twisted pastries with dark chocolate through the middle and a frappe, lunch of soulvaki, and dinner of 1001 types of lamb.
You’ve got me hungry now... I don’t know whether to curse you or thank you. :)
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From:I am eating homemade quiche for breakfast, so that's some comfort.
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From:A lot of Austrian words for food that I had to learn since coming here (having studied German in Germany) are from the old Austro-Hungarian Hapsburg empire, and this must be one of them. I didn't know that, neat!
If you ever come to Vienna, get a Topfengolatsche. Topfen is sort of like the sweet cheese from cheesecake but slightly curdier, I don't really have a better description. But mmmmmmmmmmmm.
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From:I'm convinced my Finnish ancestors immigrated for a similar reason—to wit, lutefisk.
And I'd rather die of salmonella poisoning than give up peanut butter cups.
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From:If you try Suaerkraut some day, cook it with some pineapple pieces. It´s delicious.
*wanders of to see if there is Sauerkraut in the larder*
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From:* I, too, am a tiny itty bitty Slovak relative, I suppose, to anyone who shares blood with me, what with being 1/4 Slovak and under 5' tall, but I digress.
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Copypaste to the rescue!
From:Kiffle dough
1 big package of cream cheese
1 stick of butter
1 stick of margerine
2 cups of flour
lemon rind
Mix all the above ingredients. Then roll them into individual balls (about 1” in diameter) and put them on a cookie tray. The next morning, roll them out individually on powdered sugar.
Bake at 350 F for about 20 minutes.
Note: In our family kiffles come in fruit and nut flavors. Personally, I prefer the fruit fillings, which consist of (drum roll please) jam. Jam is also easier. Jam stuck in a blender or food processor spreads even easier. The traditional kiffle fruit fillings are apricot jam and lekvar (prune jam).
But maybe you want to try the nut filling, too. Therefore:
Walnut filling for kiffles
Mix:
1 lb walnuts – ground fine
1 cup sugar per 1 lb of ground walnuts
3 egg whites beaten
1 tsp honey or vanilla
My Mom's Notes on kiffles:
Make the balls smaller, 5/8”. Once they are rolled out, put the filling in the middle, and roll the bottom edge of the dough up toward the top edge. Stop when you’re close enough to fold down the top edge of the dough over the top layer of the rolled kiffle like a lid. It looks like a sausage roll.
Baking the kiffles on cookie sheets covered in baking paper makes things easier when the fillings spill out a little.
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