It's been consistently tough, with seemingly tougher days scheduled ahead.
1) Strawberry Mousse Cake
Strawberry bits that failed to justify integrity for decoration were finely chopped and incorporated into this mixture, along with a single drop of pink food colouring for improved hue.
The thought of this cookie brings about mild distress: a certain admiration for its fancy English origins muddled with a distinct dislike for its chalky, crumbly, and commonly dull characteristics. Sunday Baking swooped in shortly to rectify these qualms.
Under the promise of an improved profile, I surrendered my last stick of cultured butter - one that I had been reluctant to use given its steep price point. It was 13 grams more than specified, which was likely the cause of spreading. That said, the tart qualities presented truly warranted its dedition. Delicate, delicious, and only a tad crumbly, the toothpick-dotted segments were exemplary of a classic shortbread - the most redeeming shortbread biscuit of the land. All hail Sunday!
During last week's grocery run, I uncovered a suppressed desire for banana bread. The initial quarantine classic that had been dismissed with the surged interest in breadmaking and braising made a tenacious comeback.
A familiar sight on this space, bran muffins have gained immense popularity as a breakfast item given their diversity. There is a tendency to formulate batches when faced with soon-to-expire yogurt or sour cream, then freeze them for later consumption. This rendition used sour cream instead of buttermilk in SK's tried-and-true blue sky recipe, though I really ought to have opted for the sour cream edition to combat the despicable lingering essence of baking soda with molasses (or more acid).
Inspired by Just One Cookbook's Nikujaga (肉じゃが or Meat and Potato Stew), I took to clearing out scrawny, molding carrots in a similar fashion. Onion and snap peas were swapped for scallions and a small knob of ginger, while beef was substituted with a partially depleted bag of frozen pork shabu shabu and thinly-sliced pork shoulder slices. The mentori technique was omitted, for I'm not one to encourage generation of food scraps (nor thoughtful enough to re-purpose them later throughout the work week).
Contained within were approximately eleven pieces of each variety: the Fried (프라이드치킨) on the drier side exuding odours of fryer oil, and the Special Sauce (양념치킨) conclusively more enjoyable with a sweet, gochukaru-laced lacquer and dusting of sesame seeds. Freshly fried and completely crunchy, we had few complaints beyond the fact the questionable quality of the individual chicken parts. Where most establishments would utilize thigh or drumstick, the box was a peculiar medley of wing, knuckle, and jointless limbs, with the pieces growing gradually outlandish at greater depths. A few bites were even rewarded with dangly bits that could neither be chewed nor removed.