the tongs] dip the sealing lids into the hot water used for sterilizing jars, [place lids on top of the filled jars] and screw ring bands on tightly.
Place the jars in a draft-free area until the lids “ping” and remain down when pushed with a finger [signs they are sterile].
Do not fret if the lid doesn't do its “ping thing” and remains convex; just store in the refrigerator and enjoy!
AND ALL THE PRESIDENTS' PANCAKES
Pancakes, a true American tradition, have made their mark throughout history. Thomas Jefferson was so smitten with his griddlecakes that accompanied his fried apples and bacon and eggs that he brought his governess to the White House from Monticello mainly because she had a magic touch at flipping the cakes.
President Andrew Jackson was partial to buckwheat-cornmeal flapjacks; Franklin D. Roosevelt swore by hot, buttered maple syrup on plain, fluffy pancakes; and Ike loved cornmeal johnny cakes smothered in light molasses. Even spendthrift Calvin Coolidge caught on to the power of the pancake and traditionally had low-cost buckwheat breakfast cakes served at morning meetings.
Mining for a Silver-Dollar Breakfast
Before Sam Clemens became Mark Twain, he was a cub reporter in the mining town of Virginia City, Nevada, writing for the local newspaper under the nom de plume “Josh.”
In his own words, Josh tells us what a real breakfast meant to him: “A mighty porterhouse steak an inch and a half thick, hot and sputtering from the grill; dusted with fragrant pepper; enriched with little melting bits of butter…archipelagoed with mushrooms…and a great cup of American homemade coffee…some smoking hot biscuits, and a plate of hot buckwheat [pan] cakes, with transparent syrup.…”
After the sun rose over the High Sierra, the young Mark Twain would head off to work and proceed to weave wonder-words with his trusty typewriter. His editor's only instructions were, “Write so damned well the miners will read the Enterprise before they drink their liquor, court their women, or dig their gold.” Which he did…after he ate his bonanza in pancakes.
Silver Dollar Slapjacks with Wild Blue Sauce
A favoritc of Mark Twain
Slapjacks
1 cup buttermilk
¼ cup milk
1 large egg, room temperature
2 tablespoons butter, melted, or canola oil
1 cup unbleached white flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
Nonstick canola oil cooking spray
Wild Blue Sauce
1½ cups fresh wild blueberries (cultivated or frozen berries will do in a pinch)
⅓ cup brown sugar
2 to 3 tablespoons lemon juice, freshly squeezed (no substitutes)
½ teaspoon crystallized ginger, finely chopped
Dash of ground nutmeg
Get the sauce going first. To make the blueberry sauce, combine all listed ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a slow, bubbly boil over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer for about 5 minutes, until the sauce begins to thicken and its sweet aroma fills the air.
To make the pancake batter, whisk together in a large bowl the buttermilk, milk, egg, and melted butter. In a separate, smaller bowl or measuring cup, blend together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Gently tap the dry ingredients into the buttermilk mixture and stir it up.
While the Wild Blue Sauce is gurgling, lightly spray or grease a griddle or nonstick skillet and heat it over medium-high heat. Ladle small 3-inch pools of batter onto the hot griddle. Cook the silver dollars for about one minute until teeny bubbles come to the surface, gently flip them, and cook for another 30 seconds.
To make a great impression, serve 3 stacks of 3 silver dollar pancakes on an extra large plate and top them with an eruption of the hot Wild Blue Sauce. Makes 16 to 18 pancakes.
Get your facts first, and then you candistort them as much as you please.
—Mark Twain
Treat That Poor Knight Like a King
Before French toast elevated its social status and fund its way onto upscale breakfast tables, it kept shady company on the edge of antiquity's kitchen. In the dank, dark days of England's Middle Ages, when poor knights and foot soldiers were out defending their king's lands and castle, they subsisted on stale slices of bread dipped in wine and soured milk and fried over a fire. The dish was aptly nicknamed “Poor Knights of Windsor.”
Over in France, this same fare was (and still is) the classic pain perdu, or “lost bread,” made exclusively with leftover bread from the baker's day off—bread that would normally be “lost” to the birds and dogs. Add a few eggs, sweet spices, rich milk…voilà! Men came to love it.
Whenever I want a man to feel regal, I cook up this remarkable, revamped version of Portuguese Toast with peachy Love Sauce from my book Goddess in the Kitchen and allow him the fantasy of being king of the world.
King Toast with Queen Peach Sause
4 large firm peaches or 8 apricots, peeled, pitted, sliced
¾ to 1 cup pure maple syrup
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg, divided
1 round loaf King's Hawaiian Bread™
4 eggs
1 cup half-and-half or milk
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Butter for frying
Place the fruit in a medium-sized saucepan, add maple syrup, and sprinkle ½ teaspoon nutmeg over everything. Cover and bring to a boil over medium-low heat. Once the syrup begins to boil, turn off the heat, but leave the saucepan on the burner to keep the nectar warm.
In the meanwhile, slice the loaf of bread in half, then cut 1-inch thick slices of bread of varied sizes from those halves (a loaf of King's provides 12 hefty slices). In a shallow bowl, whisk together the eggs, half-and-half or milk, cinnamon, vanilla, and remaining nutmeg.
Melt a dollop of butter in a skillet or on a griddle over medium-high heat. Dip both sides of the bread quickly in the egg mixture and fry for 2 to 3 minutes until golden brown; flip and fry the other side.
While the toast is frying, transfer the Queen Peach Sauce into a decorative bowl or gravy boat with a ladle. Serve toast on warmed plates. Makes 4 servings.
THE INSIDE LINE
Feel free to substitute thawed frozen fruit or unsweetened canned fruit (drained) in place of the fresh; you will need about 2 cups of sliced peaches or apricots. Also, if there is no King's Hawaiian Bread on your local store shelves, substitute sweet French or Portuguese bread.
You Can't Waffle on Character
If I were