Undomestic Diva

How to fake a fondant cake

It's so easy even an Undomestic Diva can do it! Ha. Truthfully: Y'all know I can't cook or bake (hi, Mr. Fireman) and I am not the least bit artistic yet I can fake a fondant cake. It's no Charm City creation - that's for sure. But it's good enough for my boys and that's my target audience. And if I can do it? You can.

I set out to make a Jack Skellington cake for L-Dub's 7th birthday because Nightmare Before Christmas is his absolute most favorite movie ever. Ever, EVER.

Print out a detailed photo or make a sketch of your idea. You will need to know what you're doing before you do it so you don't over or under buy fondant and so you make enough cake, etc.

Bake yo' cakes. You will need A LOT MORE cake than you think. Because you will waste A LOT MORE cake than you will want to admit. Here I baked six 9" inch round cakes.

If you're stacking cakes, you will need to 'top' the cakes... make them level by cutting the rounded tops off. You can buy a saw-like tool to do this but honestly, I have one and it's easier to use one of these long serrated cake knives. 

Icing is your glue. Before stacking your cakes, spread a blob-o-icing on each cake except your top cake.

Stack your cakes, trying to make sure they don't lean to one side or another. For stability, you can add dowels (or cheap trick: kabob skewers) after you've cover your cake in fondant.

Add your top cake with the smooth side up for easier crumb coating. (More on that in a few!)

Carve your cake. I needed a sort-of round cake (think pumpkin-shaped) so I took that same serrated cake knife and started carving. Yes, it will look like a mess but you're not done so don't be discouraged.

Here's where you start seeing ALL THAT BAKING go to waste as you cut away a ton of cake you won't need. (Tip: save your cake scraps in case you need to 'piece' together shapes or missing chunks later.)

Carefully move your cake from your messy area to its final destination (plate/platter/cardboard wrapped in foil is awesome for bigger, heavier cakes). Yes, it will get messy but you can easily wipe away crumbs, icing, etc.

Ice your cake. This is what is referred to as crumb coating since it will not look pretty and smooth -- it will have crumbs mixed into the icing and be messy. That's ok. It won't be seen. Put an even layer of icing around your entire cake. (Tip: Put store-bought icing in microwave for 10 seconds before using to make it easier to slather on.)

Make room in the fridge! Very carefully put your cake in the fridge after crumb coating for a solid hour. It will make it easier for you to smooth on the fondant.

Make sure you clean a large, smooth surface. No rogue crumbs (crumbs now become the enemy!), no bumps or grooves, etc. This is where you're going to roll out your fondant.

You can spend a bajillion dollars in the one baking aisle at Michael's with all their nifty tools. HOWEVER, if you're like me and lacking a bajillion dollars, you can make do with only buying a few of those tools and faking it with a few items you already have around the house. These are a few tools & ingredients you will definitely need for the next steps.

Fondant: I have made my own (marshmallow), bought the Wilton brand (I do NOT recommend) and this time, tried the new line by Charm City Cake's Duff at Michael's and was very pleased. It was extremely easy to use. (Tip: You can dye fondant use gel colors HOWEVER if you need a color like red or black I highly recommend buying fondant already dyed in that color.)

Fondant rolling pin: Your wooden rolling pin isn't long, smooth or heavy enough. It's worth the investment.

Cornstarch: A must-have. This keeps the fondant from sticking to everything from your counter to your hands to the rolling pin.

Crisco shortening: Good to have on hand if you end up needing to work with the fondant more than a few times. Cornstarch can dry it out and a touch of Crisco on your hands while kneading the fondant will help bring moisture back into it. (I found I didn't need it with the Duff brand fondant.)

Piping gel: Depends on your project and what detail you will need to add but a good idea for details smaller than fondant can handle.

Fondant smoother: Helps smooth fondant/remove air when you apply it on cake.

Wilton decorating tools: You can skip these if you want, but I find them really helpful especially the more cakes I do. (Using one of those Michael's coupons... good deal.)

This is what 4lbs of white buttercream fondant looks like - straight out of the tub. It's hard and unpliable. Read the directions on the tub - microwaving as directed will make your life much easier. Trust me. ;)

Remember how I said cornstarch will keep fondant from sticking to what you don't want it to? Super important. Sprinkle a bunch all over the surface where you're about to roll out the fondant.

Spread out the cornstarch - leaving no area untouched, including the rolling pin you're going to use.

This is two pounds of fondant.

And this is four pounds. Doesn't look all that different, does it? I show you this because it's imperative to know that fondant doesn't go far. It seems ludicrous to put FOUR POUNDS! of fondant on a cake but a) you're going to and b) a lot of people peel it off anyway. (And yes, after ALL THIS WORK people will peel it off and just eat the cake beneath it. Know this.

Knead the fondant until it's smooth and pliable.

Roll out the fondant on your cornstarched surface, careful to spread in as round of a shape as possible. This is harder than you think, but, you will not want to have to start over because you end up with a weird shape of fondant that doesn't cover your cake on all sides. The moment the fondant starts sticking to the rolling pin, re-cornstarch it. CORNSTARCH IS YOUR FRIEND!

This will be your biggest challenge: Picking up the fondant to carry and lay it over your cake. Fondant is a) heavy and b) stretches when you lift it and c) is an asshole. Drape it over your rolling pin and be sure your cake is very close by.

If your fondant cracks/breaks/falls apart guess what? You get to start over. Knead, roll out and try again. It always takes me a few tries and several F-bombs.

If you don't look like this by this point, you should go into the fondant cake making business. Also? I hate you.

Somewhere under there is that cake. Er, all those cakes. Now it's time to very gently start shaping and smoothing the fondant over the cake.

Be careful cutting away at the fondant. Just like with the cake - you will have lots of scraps of fondant. But you don't want to cut too much because 'piecing' fondant is not as fun as it sounds and doesn't always look seamless. So cut a little, tuck, cut a little more. Lather, rinse, repeat. Except that rinse part -- fondant HATES water. Good to know. (Tip: Never refrigerate fondant or a fondant covered cake.)

THIS is when you can add dowels (see Michael's baking aisle) or kabob skewers for stability if necessary. Make sure they're cut to fall just-below the heighth of cake so they don't show.)

Two pounds of black fondant. This time, two pounds was more than enough as I was just using the black for decorative pieces. Gloves would have been a bright idea, however.

If you aren't artistic (I am NOT) then this is where your print-out comes in handy. Use it to mimic when attempting to cut-out your accent pieces for your cake.

I used my Wilton tools to cut out my accent pieces however you can also use a toothpick or kabob skewer. Tip: Dip your cutting tool in our beloved cornstarch first so that it does not stick to the fondant as you are cutting.

To adhere fondant to fondant, all you will need is water. AND ONLY A TINY BIT! (Remember: fondant hates water - however it does act as a glue.) I used the cornstarch cap to put a tiny bit of water in it and used my finger to 'paint' the backside of the eye with just a little water. (You don't want it to drip.)

I gently pressed the eye on the cake, holding it still for a few seconds, careful not to move it (black fondant runs and leaves color on the white fondant, I learned) before letting go. Tip: Don't press hard - you will change the shape of the very pliable fondant you're adhering.

Once my fondant accents were added, I used a rolling Wilton tool to make a slight indent where I planned on piping the mouth. (A toothpick can do the same.)

Started piping along my self-made dotted lines, using barely-damp (fondant hates water!) Q-tips to quickly wipe up mistakes.

Attached mini Santa hat via toothpicks and ta-daa! done.

And enjoy.

As it turns out, you can cause an explosion via a coffee pot

As it turns out, you can cause an explosion via a coffee pot.

1. Wake up way too goddamn early to begin the school schedule process after having been up at 4 am to handle a bloody nose you do not know how to handle because you are not a goddamn medic and all of twitter is fast asleep while your husband either a) never heard a peep or, b) pretended to never hear a peep. I'M GOING WITH OPTION B.

2. Stumble to the kitchen to make coffee because - you know - PRIORITIES while your 7 year old, fully awake and chipper as can be at this ungodly hour talks to you about ? What? Sure. Uh-huh. OK. Donkey. Right. $35. Certainly.

3. Empty yesterday's coffee filter and replace with a new one after cussing to help separate those thin papery suckers from each other AND GOD WHY IS THIS TAKING SO LONG.

4. Grab the Peet's coffee bag only to discover it's empty and cry a little. "Mommy what's wrong?" "WHAT'S WRONG? WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT'S WRONG? IT'S STILL DARK OUT!" "Geez, I just wanted a PopTart." "Oh. OK."

5. Find reserve bag of Peet's coffee and wonder who thought it was a good idea to super glue the opening together in the name of sealing in the freshness. IDIOTS.

6. Pour in extra grounds because this is looking like an extra bold French Roast kinda day, hit brew.

7. Make three lunches, check three homework folders, pack three backpacks, feed three kids, set out three sets of school clothes.

8. Come back to the holy goodness sweet relief that is your first cup of coffee in the morning only to discover... the pot is empty. What? WHAT? Where did the coffee goooooo?

9. *head ---> counter* You realize you never actually put water in the fucking coffee pot. ROOKIE MISTAKE and you are, of all things, no rookie. *shrivel*

10. Open lid on coffee maker, pour in water and POOOOF! *explode* *steam* *spout* *hissssss* *facial* *not that kind of facial* *steam burn*

Motherfucks.

This is when you contemplate how taking a science class in high school might have been helpful. But no, you took agriculture instead - which technically counted for science credits - and never forced you to dissect a frog (nevermind that whole slaughtering a market animal thing) so here's to getting around the system! Didn't that work out! So now you know nothing about steam (clearly) or fire (clearly) or a whole barrage of other scientific matters but you still remember a hog's gestation period (3 months, 3 weeks, 3 days) by golly. So, you know. There's that.

So here I sit, in the seductively lit back corner of my local Starbucks, sucking up their free wifi and leaving my caffeine intake in the capable, professional hands of trained baristas. I'm pretty certain that's how the coffee gods intended it. And that's not something you'd ever learn in a science class. WINK.

What's for dinner? The details are fuzzy, the photos are fantastic though.

What I cannot wrap my creative little fingers around is how in just about every other aspect of my life - crafts, writing, event planning, lying - I am about as creative and innovative as they come but when it comes to cooking or whippin' up something in the kitchen, I stare blankly, blinking... my brain completely empty of ideas.

More frequently than I care to admit, I dutifully take out some sort of meat product from the freezer in the morning before doing school drop-offs so it can defrost in time for me to make something delicious out of it come dinnertime. Yet at 5:00 on any given evening you will find me at the kitchen counter with today's raw meat sitting impatiently in front of me practically yelling COOK ME BITCH! still in its packaging, my finger poking it through the plastic, watching as it immediately regains its shape when I stop prodding.

My mind dully drifts off, back to the 80s - aww, the 80s - when everyone had waterbeds that shaped your body as you laid on them and instantly filled back up when you got off of it. Not a very good analogy to the meat but a much more pleasant thought than cooking dinner. Then there were those awful folding lawn chairs in bright colors made up of that plastic lanyard like material that you used to sit in and as soon as you got up it took way too long for the plastic to recover to its normal shape so everyone could see just how big your ass AND thighs were when you moved? Do they still make thos-- Wait. Where was I? Oh yeah. Poking the meat. *giggle*

Hmm. What do I do with ground beef *this time?* Spaghetti? We have that every week. Tacos? We have that every week. Can you do anything else with ground beef? No? Fine. Spaghetti again!

Lather, rinse, repeat with chicken and steak. Do I use the Lawry's Season Salt or Montreal Steak Seasoning? OR BOTH! Oooh, live dangerously, Megan! (And by dangerously, I'm of course referring to not so much the marinating risk-taking factor as the high levels of sodium I'm about to poison my family with.)

The few times I've stepped out of my comfort zone nothing good came of it. And definitely nothing edible. There was that online recipe for cajun something-or-other that damn near killed me when I inhaled so much pan-fried pepper I thought I was going to die, the vegetable oil fire that gave me my first experience with deploying a fire extinguisher and the infamous homemade double-boiler explosion when chocolate covered strawberries ruined Easter. Or maybe it was me who ruined Easter. The details are fuzzy. The photos are fantastic, though.

The few things I *can* make (Super hot spicy salsa and a super hot spicy salsa dip. Yeah. That's it. Don't be so fucking judgmental. Geez.) hardly make a meal but I hold onto these recipes and refuse to share them because GODDAMMIT THEY'RE ALL I HAVE. Family and friends will ask me for my dip recipe saying they love it and I'll say "Oh sure. Yeah. I'll send it to you!" secretly vowing to never EVER send it to them because then what? THEN WHAT?! I'll have nothing that I'm known for. At least in the culinary sense. You know. Other than burning shit. Including me. (Wanna see some scars?) (Sorry, that's hardly table talk.)

I suppose I can make a crockpot'd roast. But then again it never turns out the same twice. And I do pour a mean bowl of cereal. (Don't! mess! with! me!) And this one time, I made the raddest burgundy pork tenderloin EVER (even though I don't eat pork) but the second time I tried to make it... who the hell knows what happened.

HOWEVER, if you want me to decorate you a paper plate or make you a creative Solo cup for drinking, I'm your girl. So. You know. There's that.

The Mario Bros Cake Smackdown - Vote for the best

I only mention it about a dozen times in my video, but remember, THIS IS A CAKE *DECORATING* CONTEST, not a cake tasting contest.

That being said, I've had a sneak peek at Matthew's creation and I do have to give him credit. For trying.

I kid. Honestly, I think his cake turned out amazing. Albeit just a smidge less amazing than mine, of course. But it doesn't really matter what I think - it's about what you think.

Vote in the comments section AFTER seeing both my masterpiece AND Matthew's.

The rules were simple: Create a Mario Bros themed cake.

There is no shiny golden trophy up for grabs; no cash reward or giant cardboard check to be handed out - just a heaping helping of mad street cred which either of us will gladly accept.

Without further ado, here's my creation:
(Don't forget to check out Matthew's before commenting with your vote.)

Cake SMACKDOWN! from Undomestic Diva on Vimeo.

:::

If you can't see the video or want to see a larger version, click here.

Taking the happy out of birthday since 2003

Why I thought upping the ante in the world of children's birthday parties was a good idea, I have no idea, but it all started with a very homemade looking tractor cake for my first born's first birthday, carefully pieced together with boxed cake mix and way too much chocolate frosting.

The problem starting a tradition with one kid is that as soon as you give birth to another, there's the pressure to keep it up. Everyone wants you to crack under the pressure of two kids like, "Oh yeah... she used to make these cute cakes but then she had two kids."

Listen here, Suburbia: My hard-headedness greatly exceeds my fear of death from exhaustion via baking and icing so lookout, all THREE of my boys will have themed birthday cakes each year, so help me Paula Deen.

Of course, wouldn't you know it, one son became three sons and a once-innocent idea quickly morphed into a sickening investment in frosting, creativity and so-so results. Not to mention that exhaustion. I should have quit while they were too young to have unreasonable expectations.

Naturally, simple cake and frosting concoctions lost their luster and I found myself stumbling upon the frustrating world of fondant. Any baker (yes, a baker - certainly not me, it's still boxed cake mix for me thankyouverymuch) knows once you go fondant you can't go back. It's like selling your vintage Rolls Royce for a used Geo Metro - it just doesn't make sense.

The downside to fondant is that it's pure white and everyone knows you can't have a plain white cake for your kid's birthday party. Choo-choo trains are not pure white. Pirate ships are not pure white. SpongeBob and Patrick? Neither are pure white. (WHY COULDN'T SPONGEBOB AND PATRICK HAVE BEEN PURE WHITE?) Leave it to me to discover a new "solution" to creative cake decorating which is three times as much work.

If you've worked with fondant you know that the only thing worse than trying to shape it around a square cake is dying it any particular color. An hour into kneading the fondant, you're essentially weighing the perils of carpal tunnel against how much you love your kids. This, apparently, is why god invented Costco sheet cakes.

As my oldest son's 7th (!!) birthday quickly approaches, I'm staring at eight (EIGHT!) boxes of Betty Crocker Chocolate Cake Mix, a shit-ton of Betth Crocker chocolate frosting and more pounds (yes, POUNDS!) of fondant than I care to admit and trying to visualize it baking and then shaping itself into a Mario Bros themed cake.

It's not working. Apparently this technique only worked for Mr. Magorium because there ain't enough magic in the world to make this little project go smoothly.

It's times like these when I wish I were smarter and more reasonable, choosing to whip out a couple dozen cupcakes, slapping a knife-o-vanilla frosting on them and calling it good. But apparently simplicity is far beyond my grasp as I continue my journey of insanely disproportionate children's cakes with my scorched fingers, a few crunchy egg shell "surprises" (as I like to call them) and a few tears.

But I'm not a reasonable person. Instead I've chosen to call-out and challenge Matthew in a Mario Bros themed cake SMACKDOWN! since he says claims he's a better cake decorator than me.

Uh, yes. He did.

Oh my dear friends, this should get interesting. A good challenge only makes me that more crazy and over-the-top and reckless so lookout assholes, I am spending this next week making the best fucking Mario Bros cake you've ever seen. And I'm vlogging it.

Meanwhile, while Matthew toys with his rendition of the video game version of The Situation and DJ Pauly D, he will also be vlogging it so that YOU! can judge for yourselves just who is the best damn cake decorator - me or him.  

I mean, it's fairly obvious who will win. *cough* me *cough* But on February 1st, you'll get to see the cakes and vote.

In the meantime, if I seem fairly absent from the blogosphere it's because I'm either a) working on the best. damn. cake. ever. or b) in the fetal position by the stove, rocking back-and-forth to the tune of "Happy Birthday."

I TOLD YOU I need my own cooking show. The proof is in the... Twice Baked Potatoes, Yo'

I was only sorta joking when I said I should have my own cooking show. 'Cause really, I'm not that entertaining, but the mishaps I seem to magnetically attract in the kitchen usually are. But I never intended to actually film myself cooking because a) it ain't pretty and b) it's hard enough for me to concentrate on not burning down my house without trying to film TOO and c) some other third thing 'cause I hear examples are best in three's.

But then dinner happened.

Man, I was going ALL OUT on this dinner too. (Well, ALL OUT is relative and when we're talking me: ribs in a crockpot [can I get an AMEN! for the crockpot?] with an entire bottle of store-bought BBQ sauce dumped over them and left to cook, paired with homemade [you heard me! HOMEMADE BITCHES!] twice baked potatoes is ALL OUT, folks.) Let me also just explain that I've made these twice baked potatoes several times before, the first few times following a very simple recipe I found somewhere over the rainbow online and then after that, just kinda doing it from memory. You know, because I've done it before.

People, I don't know if my memory failed me or WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED but let's just say that after baking the potatoes the first time (in the microwave of course!) and mashing my mixture of super secret bland (who am I kidding?) not-so-fancy ingredients (gotta keep it simple, yo') in a whoops too-small-bowl, well, I just *knew* I had to start filming.

UD Cooks: Twice Baked Potatoes, Yo' from Undomestic Diva on Vimeo.

Really, I have nothing to say for myself. But I do have a message for Rachael Ray who invited me on her show and then promptly disinvited me: BET YOU'RE SORRY NOW, HUH?

(Fine. Maybe she's not sorry. WHATEVER. This cooking shit is TRICKAY!)

I need my own cooking show

All these cooking shows on the various food channels bore the crap out of me. I mean, if you possess the skills to cook/bake/some-other-cooking-adjective-here then I'm sure these shows are super helpful with their fancy, gourmet recipes chock-full of ingredients I've never heard of, let alone own. But for the more... novice chef like myself, watching these chefs chop/dice/some-other-cutting-adjective-here is totally lost on me.

Besides, unless you're a budding chef or a 'foodie' or whatever the new hip term is for people who like to make food and eat it, watching that shit is BORING. You can't smell it, they don't even cook in real-time (ingredients into the pot to simmer and WHAM! they pull out an already simmered sauce to fit the 30 minutes time slot) and worst of all, you can't taste any of it. WHAT'S THE POINT?

I need to be entertained. Yelling BAM! at your salt doesn't do it for me. Cussing out your chefs-in-training doesn't make me belly laugh. And describing your ingredients as textures like they're wallpaper or something doesn't make me hungry.

I know, I know. Who am I to criticize world-renowned chefs when, no, I can't cook... BUT! I can start a mean kitchen fire, explode chocolate with such force it leaves holes in the ceiling and grind up a fork in the garbage disposal until it finally disintegrates.

I forgot what my point was. Oh yeah... that my meals might not always ever turn out, but at least there's some action! and drama! and often, comedy! happening in the kitchen.

Just last night I attempted to cook my husband his dream dinner... filet mignon, brocolli and the only side dish I've ever invented that didn't go horrendously wrong: ranch potatoes and I still managed to fuck that up. AND IT'S MY INVENTION FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. (Turns out I can't even mix some ranch dressing without redecorating the kitchen walls and window with half of it. Note to self: Check that lid is securely fastened before shaking vigorously.)

That's when I realized I could totally host my own cooking show... OK, more like a bloopers show... that has *some* cooking in it... Perhaps I'd call it - and just roll with me here, I'm just thinking aloud - something like "Bitch Can't Cook, Boil or Bake: How to deploy a fire extinguisher" or the more simpler, marketable "Burn, baby, burn" (patent pending). No matter what it's called, I'm CERTAIN you would all be totally entertained. If not by me, then by the firemen of course.

Faking it

What I lack in domesticity, I more than make up for in bullshitability. (New word. Learn it.) Meaning, I can totally fake being the good housewife suburbia compels me to be, nevermind a few fires and explosions.

At Christmas, the neighbors bring their home-baked goodies to my door, generously showing off sharing their kitchen skills and naturally, I feel like I should reciprocate. It's the nice thing to do after all, and lately, I've been trying on "nice" to see if it fits me. (So far... not-so-much.)

But bake? I'd rather do laundry. And judging by the pile of clothes yet to be washed, that sure doesn't say much for baking. Make a nice loaf of bread? Sure, give me the store bought box-o-ingredients and an egg or whatever the hell else you're supposed to add and I can give it a try. I don't want to, but I suppose I could give it a go. But you lose me if I have to make two... because the attention span is just not there.

And cookies? Hell no. Waaaay too much work. My sons once observed my mother-in-law making cookies from scratch (I like to think of "scratch" as in "scratch that, ain't doin' it") and E-man politely asked "Where are the squares you break off and put on the pan?" As in, the only cookies he's seen me make come in convenient little squares you can just break off, set on a baking sheet and in twelve minutes, damn, you've managed to burn them all.

My BFF Tamara in GA mentioned something about a candy thermometer the other day and I was like, "Huh? Wha...? Who?" So. You know. That's sums up that idear right there.

Although, I am now "in" on Wild Bill's Super Secret Toffee recipe that is coveted amongst our family and friends. And you know what? Not only do I have the recipe, I CAN ACTUALLY MAKE IT. I was very proud of this until someone pointed out on Twitter that of course I can make it, BECAUSE IT'S BURNT SUGAR. Ugh. So true.

This weekend, I managed to get a few batches whooped up:

(We won't talk about the fact that I somehow managed to leave the gas burner a-flame while setting a wood tray on an adjacent burner and then left for an hour-and-a-half to run some errands, only figuring out that the stove was on the whole fuhreakin' time a few hours later. OOPS.)

(Dear Homeowners Insurance Company: Soooo totally joking. No. Really! Please don't raise my premiums! Will try harder next time!)

The other way I impress my neighbors is with these little gems I like to call Chocolate Covered Pretzel Sticks (very creative name, I know). They look festive but guess what? They're super easy, super simple and if when you burn the chocolate, you just try again. No biggie!

While I can't give you the recipe to Wild Bill's Super Secret Toffee, I can tell you how to look damn near domestic via these bad boys:

Unwrap chocolate bars or Hershey's Kisses in a coffee mug and microwave for 40 seconds, stir and heat for another 30 seconds. Put colorful sprinkles, chopped nuts, candy canes pieces (a mallet works FANTASTIC for smashing candy canes, by the way), coconut or whatever you please on plates. Dip pretzel sticks (I used Rold Gold Honey Wheat Braided Twists) in the melted chocolate (not too much chocolate), roll in toppings, set on wax paper. Chill all pretzel sticks in the fridge for 30 minutes to harden chocolate. Put in tupperware with lid and keep chilled.

See? I can totally fake it. Wink.

Cooking with UD - UPDATED

Ladies, hold onto your post-partum bladders as I tell you that this here post may just contain a recipe.

Whether it's edible or not... now that's your problem.

Last night for dinner - and yes I actually made dinner - I made Old School Tacos. They are an old favorite for Candy Ass and I, especially when we're looking to up our cholesterol and pack on a few LB's. THEY ARE GREASY GOOD.

Here's what you need to make the best goddamn Old School Tacos ever:

1lb Ground Beef

1 packet Lawry's Taco Seasoning

1 small can El Pato Tomato Sauce

***Added a photo of El Pato since many of you weren't sure what it is. I forgive you. This time. But this, my friends, is a food STAPLE.***

Either corn tortillas to fry as taco shells OR flour tortillas for soft taco shells

Plus whatever else you like on your tacos (pronounced tay-coes, btw) like refried beans, rice [boil one cup El Pato, add one cup rice, turn off and let stand for ten minutes for super spicy rice] and I also recommend some sort of salsa or pico de gallo... the one thing I can make from scratch. Sorta.

HERE'S HOW YOU DO'S IT:

Brown the ground beef. As you're doing this, start your refried beans, take a swig of a newly opened beer and make your pico de gallo.

Let me tell you a little story. Two weeks ago I visited my not-so-local Ikea and was feelin' fancy and very Iron-Chef-America-ish and bought myself a GARLIC PRESS. It was like $2 and I thought, aw hell, I can totally do this, so I bought it and whooped it out last night while making my pico.

NOTE: Garlic press accepts only one clove of garlic at a time and requires that you remove the skin first.

I was sooo impressed by the way it mashed the garlic right through those tiny little holes, that I immediately eyed my serrano and jalapeno suspiciously... Sure enough, I was able to get a serrano and a jalapeno through my garlic press, small chunks at a time. I also tried a coffee bean, just to see if it would go through, but it didn't. And then it smelled like jalapeno afterward and tasted rather spicy. (FYI, should you get the urge to try a coffee bean like I did.)

In my pico de gallo, I use: Two small tomatoes, two cloves of garlic, one serrano, one small jalapeno, cilantro if I have it, and a little kosher salt. (Truth be known, I have no fucking clue why I use Kosher salt, but all the big time chefs always use it, so I thought I should too.)

GODDAMN IT! You forgot about the meat!! I said brown it not do it cajun-style. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, you people are hard to teach. Drain the now blackened meat and pretend it's cooked perfectly. Add the packet of Lawry's Taco Seasoning, can of El Pato, plus two more El Pato cans worth of water and let it cook on high until the meat has absorbed all the sauce.

While the meat is simmering or cooking or whatever other synonym you want to use here, if you are going to fry corn tortillas for taco shells, you had better be pre-heating your oil already. Maybe I should have told you that at the beginning. Sorry.

But I must warn you before we move on about the dangers of cooking with oil.

Let me tell you another little story. The year was 2004 and L-Dub was one week old. Candy Ass had deserted me for returned to work after having stayed home to help me manage E-man and the new baby the first few days and I was desperate to prove that I could handle TWO WHOLE KIDS and put a decent dinner on the table when he got home. There were two problems with this ill-fated attempt: 1) I've never been able to put a decent dinner on the table, kids or no kids and 2) I was wrong, I could not handle TWO WHOLE KIDS by myself.

Anyway, I went all out, making some sort of chicken concoction and like four side dishes, every burner on the stove aglow. Well, long story short, the one burner we normally used to fry taco shells on apparently had some leftover oil residue and basically... WAIT. No. Most definitely caught fire. While it didn't occur to me to call 9-1-1, I did remember something about a fire extinguisher below the sink so I went for it and instantly regretted not having read the directions on how to use it beforehand. Because if there's one thing that makes putting out an emergent fire sorta fucking impossible, it's having to stop and calmly read directions on how to use the extinguisher. And honest to god, I couldn't get the fucker to go.

So now here's where I call 9-1-1, right? WRONG. I called my stepdad who lives around the corner and one street over and screamed into the phone: OH MY GOD MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE I CAN'T PUT IT OUT WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO??? And just as I hear the scrrreeeeeeeccching of tires in record, unfathomable time in my driveway, I FINALLY! manage to pull the damn tab from the extinguisher and WHHOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHH, white dust is EVERYWHERE as Wild Bill is simultaneously damn near busting down the goddamn front door, fire extinguisher in hand, ready to... well... extinguish. I hang up the phone, 'cause clearly he's no longer on the other end of it, and blink my dry, smokey eyes at him. "Did you call 9-1-1?" Wild Bills asks, out of breath. Um, oh yeah. I guess I should have tried them. But no. He just looks at me like JESUS CHRIST WOMAN and tells me to get the one-week-old -oh yeah, remember him?- off the living room floor and take him outside where it's not so smokey.

Crisis adverted.

So where were we? Oh yeah. Oil. Starts fires. WATCH OUT.

Last night, as I went to fry up some taco shells, I couldn't - for the life of me - find where our only pair of kitchen tongs were. I needed them to get the shells in and out of that dangerous! hot! oil! I looked everywhere and called Candy Ass and asked him. He was really helpful with his "How should I know?" So I hung up and got real inventive on his ass by searching the kitchen for something - anything else I could use to somehow grip and hold taco shells.

I found the perfect solution: Chopsticks. OH YES. Now I'm not even going to play games and tell you it was easy; it wasn't. But I found my chi and fried those taco shells right up with my leftover Panda Express chopsticks. Talk about being resourceful! Send THAT hint to Heloise, bitch.

Now when the shells and the meat and the pico de gallo and your beans and maybe your super spicy rice are ready, it's time to shell up, eat and enjoy.

Now that was easy, wasn't it?

(Hey, compared to two nights ago when Candy Ass came home to find our newest fire extinguisher sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor just in case... last night was a complete success!) (Two nights ago it got a little hairy when a small big flame appeared in our gas oven coming from a yet to be determined source. I opened the oven door, stuck my head in and stared it down until it eventually went out and called it good.) (It didn't occur to me until just now that perhaps an open flame + a gas oven might not be a good idea. Huh. Learn something new every day, don't we?)

Happy cooking.

Culinary Genius

Some of you might shutter at the fact that I've never been - or ever cared to go - into a Williams-Sonoma store prior to this past weekend. I mean, it's a store full of kitchen crap. I shall pee my pants now in pure joy and excitement!!

Uh, no.

A lot of people will consider this a sin, but I, missing whatever chromosome it is that makes a woman want to be domestic or kitcheny or subservient or culinary, could care less about kitchen gadgets and pots and pans and dishes... I mean, I just know I'd be an amazing chef if I only knew how to cook. But I don't so I won't and therefore all the kitchen gadgetry crapola is wasted on me.

Saturday night, Candy Ass and I lapped the mall while we were killing time waiting for a table at The Cheesecake Factory. (Note: Try the Chicken Stuffed Tortillas. AWESOME.) Normally, I'd totally skip over the opportunity to peruse the Williams-Sonoma store, but since recently becoming full-on inexplicably addicted to that Iron Chef America show, my ears kinda perked up when I saw the walls of colorful plates and the stacks of modern espresso cups and coordinating saucers within the store and before I knew it, I blurted out to Candy Ass, "Watching all those Iron Chef America reruns has me thinking I might start plating your dinners."

All I got from him was a sideways glance of Are-You-Serious? and then he scurried off to the very sharp knives section. For safety. I might have scared him a little bit with my use of the word plating. I sorta got the feeling he wasn't sure who I was and what had the aliens done with his real wife? The one who favors thick, sturdy paper plates to fine china? I think he might have even started to get excited a little, like I'd turned over a new (fig) leaf or something, so I quickly caught up with him and continued my train of thought, eager to please him. "Yeah, I mean, don't be surprised if you come home one night and I've squirted the ketchup all over the hot dogs I've made for dinner in a fancy design like they do on the Iron Chef show with their magical sauces.

I think his shoulders immediately drooped and a familiar sadness overcame him (you might even call it disappointment) as he realized that in my domestically challenged world, plating still means hot dogs for dinner.

But I don't know... some may laugh at my ill-attempts to put dinner on the table (fires, explosions, WHATEVER), but in all the weird, fancy and unique secret ingredients (read: blue cheese, snails, arctic char) on the Iron Chef America episodes, I've yet to see any of those supposed culinary geniuses make anything amazing using hot dogs. Somebody call the Chairman and tell him I'm the true genius here, bitch.

***

And truly, being in Williams-Sonoma was actually very entertaining for me. They've got all kinds of weird shit that I just had to take pictures of with the camera on my Crackberry...

Now the sign for this thing said something about a pancake filler. But I have no goddamn clue how one gets an effin' pancake out of this very confused pan. And what does a person put in a pancake as "filler" anyway? All the pancakes I've ever made come with their own filler - white gooey, not-quite-cooked-all-the-way batter in the middle AND ALL WITHOUT USING A FANCY PAN.

What the hell do you need a RAKE for when cooking?!

A double mezzawhatta? Huh?

I studied this goddamn device for like ten minutes and am still confused. A potato ricer. Um, okay. Looking at the photo on the packaging, it seems to promise that if you stick a potato in it, the potato comes out mashed... and in a pretty bowl, nonetheless. Well I'll be damned! All this time I thought you had to skin(?) the potatoes and then boil them and then mash them with one of those masher thingys to get mashed potatoes.

Now I know the sign says "Truffle Shaver," but from the looks of it, I think Williams-Sonoma has it all wrong. It looks like one of the tools Candy Ass uses when he changes the oil in my car. And if it really is meant for truffles, well hell, why would anyone go to the trouble of using this thing for whatever it does when the good lord has made See's Candy? I bet for the cost of this do-hicky you could probably buy a whole lotta truffles from See's. Just sayin.'

Now we're talking. COME TO MAMA.

And I have no fucking clue what these things are, but hee, hee, hee and OH MY GOD!! [snicker]

After this exciting field trip into a Williams-Sonoma store, I regret not having gone sooner. You know, just for shits and giggles.