Tag: dessert

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One Contentious Cookie

By Laura Johnson Andrews

For me, the holiday season is all about baking…and eating. Christmas wouldn’t be complete without certain foods — crispy, wafer-thin sugar cookies, krumkake, rosettes, lefse, and most important of all, pebern¯dder, or peppernuts.

But which peppernuts to make? In The Great Scandinavian Baking Book, Beatrice Ojakangas describes peppernuts as”a cookie that starts arguments! Every Dane insists that the only person who really knew how to make them was Mother, Grandma or Aunt Brigitte.” I had two Danish grandmothers with wildly different peppernut styles. I always felt a little disloyal to Grandma Maridell Mark for preferring Grandma Rachel’s white pepper and ginger cookies to her molasses-based models.

After consulting six different cookbooks, I found 12 recipes for peppernuts. None of them were the same, and none of them resembled the crunchy little cookies that showed up in Grandma Johnson’s kitchen every December. There were recipes that called for pulverized filberts, anise, sorghum, lemon rind, eggs, allspice, goose fat, chopped almonds — some didn’t include pepper at all! Even within my mother’s family of Viborg Danes, there is no agreement on how peppernuts should be made. I’ve included her great-aunt Nina (pronounced nynah) Mark’s recipe below, and her Aunt Marilyn has promised to send another once she tracks it down. Grandma Maridell’s version was different yet. Please feel free to share your family’s version in the comments section.

The Germans and the Dutch also have variations on this cookie theme, pfeffernusse and pepernoten. The Danes call them pebern¯dder. Some recipes make a cookie so hard that they must be dunked in coffee to be eaten, but mine are easily chewed, even by my false-toothed father. Although the dough can be a strain on one’s mixer, forming the cookies is a snap — especially if you have small children around who can be coaxed into making snakes out of the dough, as one would with play dough.

Peppernuts

Recipe from Rachel Skoven Johnson

1 cup white syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup butter or other shortening
1 cup sour cream
2 teaspoons white pepper
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon baking soda
5 cups or more of flour

Combine white syrup, sugar, butter and sour cream. Add white pepper and ginger. Stir soda into flour. Slowly mix in flour, a cup or so at a time, until the batter is quite stiff. Be prepared — your mixer may struggle making these cookies.

On a lightly flour-covered surface, take handfuls of dough and roll them into snakes about Ω inch around or so. Cut the snakes into 1/2 inch bits. Bake at 390 degrees for 6-8 minutes or until browned.

Pebern¯dder

Recipe by Nina Mark from the Viborg Centennial Cookbook

2 1/2 cups dark Karo syrup
1/2 cup molasses
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter

Heat and cool above ingredients. Add:

2 tablespoons warm milk with 1 teaspoon baking soda mixed in
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon cardamom
2 eggs
10 cups flour (stir in six cups, then add the remaining flour one cup at a time, stirring thoroughly)

Roll dough into small strips. Cut strips in small pieces. Bake at 275 degrees for 45 minutes.

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Don’t Judge Too Harshly

By Laura Johnson Andrews

“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,” as my husband and Scottish poet Robert Burns are fond of saying.

I was so pleased to take part in the Heirloom Recipes Contest at the State Fair back on September 2. Seven contestants brought favorite family recipes and stories to share. Many of them were things I’d never tried before: cornstarch pudding, brazil nut fudge cake, nut pudding and date nut bread; the others were delicious renditions of familiar foods: sour cream raisin pie, bread pudding and sugar cookies. I loved sampling them, reading the stories and learning more about South Dakota’s food history.

It was a really good time, with just one sour note amidst all the sweetness. Someone walked off with a couple of the recipes…and a few of the family histories.
It’s awfully hard to judge fairly when you are missing crucial pieces of information. The event organizer, Catherine Lambrecht, and I did the best we could. (Click here to see the contest results.) Then we discussed the day and Midwestern food traditions over Indian tacos, chislic and kuchen. I came home with a renewed sense of pride and enthusiasm for exploring our food history.
But I felt bad for not being able to give all the entries equal attention. The sugar cookies in particular seemed quite familiar, similar to a recipe that my family sometimes used. All I could remember about them was that the recipe contained oil and that we used a cookie stamp to flatten the balls of dough and imprint a fuzzy design on the top of each cookie. They were somewhat sandy, thicker and more crumbly than the crisp, wafer-thin sugar cookies that were Christmastime favorites. Nothing fancy — just simple, tasty cookies.
It occured to me that perhaps I might share our version here, and envisioned a riveting conversation unfolding with our readers about sugar cookie preferences, techniques and tricks. Unfortunately, our recipe was elusive. I checked my boxes and books. Nothing. I asked my mother for help. She moved recently, and her recipes were still in storage. I consulted an aunt, who holds part of my late grandmother’s cooking archives. No luck.
I finally unearthed an oil-based sugar cookie recipe from the 1985 Vangen Lutheran Church cookbook and hurriedly mixed up the dough. But something seemed off. Was it the oil? It seemed a little on the rancid side. And wait a minute….did I add baking powder instead of cream of tartar? My husband tried to reassure me. “Dough tastes fine to me. And so what if you switched ingredients? Might turn out even better.”
He had a nice idea, but the results were not quite right. Since we live in a no-waste household, we’ll be eating the mistakes for some time.
Don’t make my mistakes. If you pay attention, read the recipe carefully and think about what you’re doing, you should have a tasty little snack on your hands.
And if you’re Barb Peterson of Huron, please share your recipe and story with us again! We’re sorry for the mix-up.


Sugar Cookies

By Alice Magorien
From Mission Hill’s Vangen Heritage Cookbook

1 cup oil
1 cup margarine
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
Dash of salt
Cream oil, margarine and sugars together until fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla. Sift dry ingredients and add, mixing well. Refrigerate. Roll in balls and coat with sugar. Press down with glass; bake on ungreased cookie sheets at 350 degrees until light brown.
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Hard-won Walnut Cookies

By Ruth Steil

Black walnuts add rich flavor to baked goods, but harvesting and shelling the nuts can be a real challenge.

Try cracking your black walnuts with a hammer and you’ll likely get bruised fingers and a new respect for squirrels. The little furry-tailed creatures make the laborious task of shelling black walnuts look simple. Since humans aren’t equipped with a squirrel’s incisors, using a nutcracker is probably the best option. Neighbors may suggest other nut-cracking methods — like crushing the nuts in a vise or splitting them with an axe or putting them in a gunny sack and driving over them. All of the aforementioned pose safety issues, since the nuts and shells can become airborne.

A nutcracker worthy of cracking a black walnut isn’t any ordinary nutcracker. And it certainly doesn’t look like the one you see dancing in the ballet. A real nutcracker has a long lever handle that crushes the nut between two metal plungers.”You need special equipment,” said April Borders, Yankton County Extension Agent, when we spoke with her in 2007.”The nutcracker for black walnuts looks almost like a pop can crusher.”

Rock-hard shells aren’t the only drawback to black walnuts; juice from the hull surrounding the shell will stain. Native Americans and pioneers used it to make dye, and even today several recipes for the dye can be found on the Internet. Unless you don’t mind stained hands and fingers, Borders recommended wearing gloves when working with black walnuts. Protecting clothing, tools and work surfaces is a good idea, too.

Black walnuts should be hulled before storage to retain the color and flavor of the nutmeat. It’s best to throw the hull scraps in the trash. The hulls, as well as the roots, leaves and bark of the black walnut tree contain juglone, a chemical that inhibits the growth of many vegetables, fruits, landscape plants and flowers.”When you look under a black walnut tree, there’s nothing growing under it, even grass has a hard time,” Borders said.”It’s mother nature’s way of protecting the plant.”

In order to beat the squirrels, look for black walnuts to ripen from August to September.”Harvest will depend on the weather,” Borders said.”Watch for the husks to change color, then use your thumb to do a dent test similar to what you would do with squash.” It’s best to pull the nuts off the tree, according to Borders. Those too high to reach will come down with the frost.

Once you’ve collected the nuts, hulled them and purchased a heavy-duty nutcracker, you’re probably in a hurry to shell. But wait a while — they should cure for two weeks or more. That allows the flavor to develop and prepares them for storage. It also gives you time to ask around for recipes.

Grace Linn of Brookings shared this recipe with us. She first made these cookies with black walnuts she brought home from a trip in Wisconsin when she didn’t realize the nuts grew in South Dakota.

Black Walnut Raisin Cookies

1 cup raisins
1/2 cup water
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 teaspoon vanilla or black walnut flavoring
2 eggs
2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon allspice
1/3 cup black walnuts

Mix and cook the raisins and water for a few minutes. Drain and reserve 1/4 cup liquid. Return liquid to raisins and add 1/2 teaspoon baking soda. Set aside to cool.

Cream sugar and shortening. Add eggs and flavoring then beat thoroughly. Sift together flour, baking powder, salt, nutmeg and allspice. Mix flour mixture with sugar and shortening. Fold in raisin mixture and black walnuts. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until done.

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the September/October 2007 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

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Cookin’ Kuchen

By Trevor T. Guthmiller

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the January/February 2004 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

You don’t have to be German to appreciate kuchen, South Dakota’s official state dessert. Kuchen is a traditional German pastry that roughly translates to”cake.” Typically, kuchen is made with a sweet dough and contains a fruit or custard filling. There are about as many different recipes and styles of kuchen as there are people who make it.

German immigrants brought kuchen to South Dakota in the 1880s. Homesteaders often brought very little with them besides their clothes, basic tools, self-sufficiency and a determination to face the challenges that a rough and unsettled South Dakota threw at them. Many of them settled in McPherson County in north central South Dakota, in towns like Leola, Eureka, Wetonka, Long Lake and Hillsview.

Their hard work and agricultural prowess turned McPherson County into one of the largest wheat-producing areas in the country. In fact, in the late 1890s Eureka billed itself as the”Wheat Capital of the United States.” In 1892, 3,300 railroad cars of wheat were hauled out of Eureka. This was a remarkable achievement in an era before the internal combustion engine, when the horsepower that planted and harvested crops was still provided by horses, oxen and people.

German was the first language for many county residents until the past two generations. Even people born in the 1960s and 1970s remember their parents and grandparents speaking German when they didn’t want their children to know what they were talking about.

There aren’t many lutefisk feeds in this part of the state; it’s a kuchen-eatin’ crowd if there ever was one. Eureka holds a Schmeckfest every fall, and Leola celebrates Rhubarb Day every other year. Kuchen is prominently featured at both events.

But kuchen is not limited to McPherson County. Delmont has an annual Kuchen Festival, and bakeries in many small towns make the treat. Those who’d like to try kuchen can ask whether their local bakery produces it or their grocery store carries it, they can make their own, or they can contact the Eureka Kuchen Factory or Pietz’s Kuchen Kitchen of Scotland.

Clean Your Plates for Aunt Edna’s Kuchen

Growing up in Leola, kuchen was something we always looked forward to — if we cleaned our plates. Since my mother and grandmother were great cooks, this was never a problem. Like many family recipes, the one for kuchen has been handed down and around our family for years. My grandmother’s sister, Edna Neuharth, shared it with my grandmother, Adeline Ehley, who handed it on to my mother, Leta Guthmiller.

A great thing about kuchen is that it comes in so many styles and flavors. While this is good, it sometimes led to divisions at the dinner table. Adults preferred rhubarb and prune kuchen, while children favored apple, peach or strawberry. To get around this, my mother often made a sugar kuchen, which she knew everyone would like. Her recipe is flexible enough to make kuchen with or without fruit.

When cooks made kuchen to feed men working in the field, they didn’t make just one; they made several, and extras to freeze. Great-aunt Edna’s original recipe makes about eight kuchen. To make fewer, adjust the ingredients. Or make eight, some plain and some with fruit.

Crust:
1 package dry yeast
1/8 cup warm water
2 beaten eggs
1 1/2 cups milk
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup vegetable oil
4-5 cups flour

In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. In a stainless steel pan, scald the milk by bringing to a boil and then reducing heat. The milk should have a film on top of it. Add sugar, salt, eggs and vegetable oil into the milk. Add milk mixture into the bowl of yeast and water. Mix in 4-5 cups of flour, enough to make a good dough. Let rise about one hour. Divide the dough into eight equal pieces. Roll each to about 1/4 inch thick and place in a greased pie pan so that the dough covers the bottom and comes about halfway up the side. Let dough rise in the pan for 15 minutes. Add a layer of thinly sliced apples, strawberries or other fruit if desired.

Filling:
4 eggs
1 cup sugar
2 cups cream
2 cups milk
3 tablespoons flour

On the stove, heat the milk and cream together. In a large bowl, mix the sugar, flour and eggs together. Add the milk and cream mixture to the sugar, flour and eggs and return it to the stove and cook until it thickens. Pour about 3/4 of a cup of the filling mixture into each crust.

Topping:
2 cups sugar
2 cups flour
1 cup margarine

Mix the sugar, flour and margarine together so that it is somewhere between smooth and lumpy. Pour the topping on and bake it in the oven for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees. After the kuchen comes out of the oven, let it set for five minutes, then remove from the pan and let it cool.

About the author: Trevor Guthmiller, a native of Leola, lives in Brandon with his wife Melissa and their children Adam and Ashley.

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Eggy Coffee?

By Laura Johnson

As the big day for the Heirloom Recipes Competition at the South Dakota State Fair draws near, my mind is more and more consumed with thoughts of vintage family recipes. My Aunt Julie recently shared a couple that my great-great grandmother, Alma Johnson, gave her friend Mabel Hovden back in the 1920s. Alma wasn’t known as much of a recipe follower, but it made sense that the surviving instructions were for cakes. After all, afternoon coffee was an important part of a Scandinavian farm family’s day — and you can’t have afternoon coffee without some sort of sweet accompaniment.

I asked my aunt what style of coffee was made back then. They didn’t have plug-in drip machines or fancy French presses, after all. Julie replied,”I’m betting that egg coffee was in the works. That was the kind I remember Grandma Johnson always making. It was best to get there early in the day, though, as her coffee seemed to get stiffer as the day wore on. No wonder Grandpa Johnson would add spoonful after spoonful of sugar. Speaking of coffee, I could use some myself right now!”

Julie introduced me to egg coffee years ago. One Sunday morning as we went to brew the first pot of the day, her coffee carafe broke. I started to panic.”I can’t sit through church uncaffeinated!”

“Don’t worry about it,” my aunt said cheerfully.”We can make egg coffee.”

What? Eggs in coffee? What kind of crazy talk was this? Jules had never been prone to such outbursts of bizarre behavior before, so I tried to suspend my disbelief.

As it turns out, that was a good thing. I did not know then that egg coffee was a cherished Scandinavian-American tradition from the days before automatic coffee makers, a concoction beloved of church basement ladies throughout the Midwest. Mixing coffee grounds with beaten egg is supposed to clarify the brew and make it less bitter. The exact method varies, but one thing remains constant — you’d better have a good dessert to serve with it.

So picture yourself in a Volin, South Dakota farmhouse kitchen in the mid-1920s. Your companions are two aged non-English-speaking ladies, three or four rowdy kids, a sick calf warming up behind the cookstove and a Swedish immigrant housewife with a devilish sense of humor. The egg coffee is extra hearty from hours of simmering on the stove, but the cake is good and the company lively. Enjoy.

Egg Coffee

From Talk About Coffee

1 egg, beaten
1 crushed eggshell
1 cup ground coffee
1/2 cup cold water
8 cups boiling water

In a small bowl, mix the ground coffee with the beaten egg until the grounds are well coated. Stir in the eggshell, then add water. Meanwhile, bring 8 cups of water to boil in a large saucepan. Add egg-coffee mixture to the boiling water and stir for about four minutes, or until the foam subsides. Remove from the heat and cover the pan. Let stand for 7-10 minutes, until the grounds and eggshell have settled to the bottom of the pot. Strain the coffee through a wire or cloth strainer into coffee cups or into a serving carafe. Add sugar and milk to taste if desired.

Orange Cake

From Alma Johnson to Mabel Hovden c. 1925

Julie advises,”There are no hints as to oven temperature or baking time. And in this day and age, I’d add poking holes in the cake with a fork before drizzling the orange/sugar mixture on it so it would run in. Probably another thing that everybody just ‘knew.’ If Grandma Johnson knew you were coming and she had an orange, you might get treated to this one.”

1 cup sugar
1/2 cup butter or lard
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup raisins
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon soda
1 egg

Glaze: Peeling of one orange grated. Squeeze juice from orange and put in 1/2 cup sugar. Let stand while cake is baking and pour on cake when taken from oven.

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After School Treat

By Fran Hill

During my childhood, I was always starving after school. Maybe it was my picky taste buds that only nibbled at the school lunch; maybe it was that I chatted too much during lunch break and didn’t have time to eat; maybe it was as simple as my growing body and mind needing nourishment. Regardless, I was famished when the 3 p.m. dismissal bell rang. After school treats were a must in order to tame my growling tummy and muddle through homework before dinner.

In my book, the perfect way to make the grade for an after school snack is with a plate full of homemade cookies. Late summer gardens are taking off after the heat of July, and zucchini is once again piling up on kitchen counters. It only makes sense to pull out a recipe that uses that bounty to satisfy hungry students.

Zucchini Oatmeal Sandwich Cookies bake up tender and almost lacy. The cookies absolutely let the zucchini shine. The cream filling leans toward my favorite cream cheese frosting and couldn’t be more delicious of a pairing for the lightly spiced cookies. I declare this after school treat an A+.

Zucchini Oatmeal Sandwich Cookies

Adapted from Martha Stewart

Cookies:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup flour
1 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup finely grated zucchini
1 cup old-fashioned oats

Filling:
8 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1/4 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat 1/2 cup of butter and sugars until pale and fluffy. Beat in egg and vanilla. Add flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Mix in grated zucchini and oats. Refrigerate until firm, about an hour.

Using a medium cookie scoop, drop dough onto baking sheets lined with parchment to avoid sticking, spacing about 2 inches apart. Bake until edges are golden, about 17 minutes. Allow to cool on cookie sheet for a few minutes before placing on wire rack. Cool on a wire rack. (The cookies are tender and crumbly when fresh from the oven. I let them cool on the rack overnight in order to dry out a bit and firm up for ease of spreading the filling.)

Beat together 1/4 cup of butter, cream cheese and powdered sugar until smooth. Spread 1 heaping tablespoon of filling onto the flat side of one cookie, and sandwich with another cookie. Repeat with remaining cookies. Store loosely covered, with waxed paper between layers of cookies. Makes approx. 2 dozen.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and two dogs reside near Colome.



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Bake Like a Pioneer

By Laura Johnson

We’re in prime fair season right now, and the reports I’ve heard from the county fairs around the state have me really excited about my trip to the South Dakota State Fair on September 2 to be a judge at the Family Heirloom Recipe Competition. I hope to see you all there, with your favorite pre-1950 recipes and stories in hand.

I love historic recipes. It’s fascinating to leaf through old cookbooks and see how tastes have changed as new ingredients, tools and techniques were introduced. How would you like to whip stiffly-beaten egg whites by hand? Can you imagine a Midwestern potluck before the days of Jell-o?

I recently learned a little about cooking in the 1860s after browsing through a few years’ worth of the Yankton Weekly Dakotian, one of South Dakota’s first newspapers and an ancestor of today’s Yankton Daily Press & Dakotan. It was a short four-page publication, comprised largely of stories, Civil War news, a handful of local items and ads with titles like “Lumber!” “Shingles! Shingles!” and “Brick! Brick! Brick!” I suppose if you had to choose between hauling construction materials up from Sioux City or purchasing them in Yankton, a local supply might be worthy of multiple exclamation points.

Occasionally the paper would include a few”receipts,” or recipes. The July 13, 1861 edition has recipes for sponge cake, rice pudding, cocoanut cake, cake without eggs, removing warts on cattle, gold cake, johnny cake, puff pudding and silver cake. Yes, they put the wart removal instructions smack in the middle of the desserts. Very appetizing.

I thought it’d be fun to try my hand at one or two of these prairie desserts, but it proved to be more of a challenge than I was expecting. For one thing, they’re a little light on instructions — no oven temperatures, no cooking times and very little guidance on how the ingredients are to be combined. Some of the measurements are a little sketchy, too — the Dakotian measures rice for pudding by the teacup, and the sponge cake recipe calls for one do. of sugar. What’s a do.?

So I selected a couple recipes that looked manageable, threw caution to the wind, preheated my oven to 350, plugged in my electric mixer and thought about my great-great grandmothers, and how tough they must’ve been to be able to do this all by hand. You’ll find the receipts as written in the Weekly Dakotian below, along with my interpretation of them. If you have any insights into 1860s cooking, PLEASE leave a comment — particularly if you have some 1860s era frosting recipes.

Puff Pudding

Golden on the outside, lumpy on the inside.

Take three eggs, nine table-spoons of flour, a pint of milk, salt, pour the milk on the flour, scalding hot, then add the eggs; bake from twenty minutes to half an hour. Sauce made from wine or lemon, to suit the times.

This recipe was one of the more detailed ones. After trying it out in my usual slap-dash fashion, I would recommend adding the scalded milk to the flour SLOWLY. I ended up with a lumpy mess that whisking did not really improve. I baked said mess in a cast iron pan until it was speckled brown on top. It puffed up nicely, but collapsed quickly once removed from the oven. Lemon sauce suited my times, but the lumpy texture of the finished pancake did not.

Warts on Cattle

Dissolve potash to a paste, spread over the wart with it for half an hour, then wash it off with vinegar. The cure is sure for man or beast.

I didn’t actually try this, but it didn’t seem right to leave it out.

Gold Cake

One cup of sugar, half cup of butter, half cup of milk, yolks of eight eggs, one teaspoonful cream tartar, half teaspoon of soda, two cups of flour.

I chose to follow what I think of as standard cake-baking procedure on this one. Cream butter and sugar together, then beat in the egg yolks. Mix the flour, soda and cream of tartar together, then add it to the egg mixture alternately with the milk. The batter fit in two greased and floured round cake pans. Bake for a half-hour or until toothpick comes out clean. The Dakotian didn’t include frosting recipes, so I gave it a quick dusting with powdered sugar so it looked a little more finished.

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As Hot as an Oven

By Laura Johnson

I’m not one to complain about the weather, but I’ll admit this year’s heat is taking its toll. The trees here on Pearl Street in Yankton look like they’re ready to give up. My garden hangs on, but doesn’t want to produce. Even my normally outgoing and gregarious father is telling people that he’s gone as dormant as his lawn this summer. The twinkle in his eyes is fading, and when you ask him what’s new, he says,”Nothing. It’s too g-d d—-d hot.” Unfamiliar words from a notorious mischief-maker and stirrer of pots.

This is no good. It’s one thing to lay low for a while, but when one’s creativity goes into hibernation, it’s time to take action. There must be an upside to this miserable summer besides the comparative lack of mosquitos. How can we use the heat to our advantage?

A picture posted on Facebook provided one answer. Why not use my car as a sort of solar oven on wheels? It’s like a larger-scale version of the pizza box solar oven popular with Boy Scouts and, like the summer kitchens used back in the days before air conditioning, it keeps heat from cooking out of my house.

Here’s the general idea.

  1. Preheat your car. Leave it out in the sun until it gets nice and toasty inside. When the outside temperature is over 100, this shouldn’t take too long.
  2. Place a protective towel on the dashboard.
  3. Stir up cookie dough or use store bought slice-and-bake cookies. Use an eggless recipe if you’re worried about salmonella.
  4. Place dough on cookie sheets and stick them on the dash.
  5. Allow the concentrated heat of the sun to bake the dough.
  6. Grab your potholders and remove cookies when they have browned. This takes several hours.
  7. Remove from pans and enjoy.

Sounds easy enough, doesn’t it? My results were more-or-less edible, but disappointing. The cookies dried, but never really browned. After some reflection, I think I’ve figured out where I went wrong.

  1. Timing. I didn’t get started early enough, and missed out on some great midday rays. My cookies went in the car oven at about 1 p.m. By 5 p.m. my cookies were still not done, and so I drove to my post-work knitting meet-up with two baking sheets on my dashboard, and let them cook further while I crafted. Please note: driving around with pans of hot cookies on your dash is a really bad idea. Very unsafe.
  2. Recipe choice. I stirred up a batch of oatmeal butterscotch, my favorite non-Christmas cookie. They’re soft cookies, and since this is a long and slow method, they dried out, losing that softness. A chewy/crispy cookie might be a better option.
  3. Temperature. The Mazda has a light brown interior. According to the in-car thermometer, the temperature only got up to 170 degrees. I bet a car with a black interior would make a better oven, because the dark color would really soak in the heat.
  4. Position. Tilting the pans towards the window might’ve helped them bake faster.

Will I try this again? Probably. It won’t be for a while, though. There are no 100+ degree days forecasted in the immediate future. It’s supposed to get down to 82 this weekend, and that’s just not good car-baking weather.

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Friendly Competition

By Laura Johnson

So I’ve been asked to be a judge for the Family Heirloom Recipe Competition at the South Dakota State Fair on September 2. It’ll be the first year for the contest in South Dakota, although the Greater Midwest Foodways Alliance has held similar events in other Midwestern states.

To compete, cooks share treasured family recipes that date back to before 1950. Full details are available on pages 38-39 of the state fair’s exhibit premium book. The contest is designed to teach us more about South Dakota food culture and traditions, so the history of the recipe is nearly as important as its taste. If you want to get an edge on the competition, this judge very jokingly recommends you bring pie — that’s my favorite.

It’s my grandpa’s favorite too, and the women of the family know it. In fact, the Mark ladies have been using pie to vie for the affections of Grandpa Donald for well over 60 years now. It’s been a very tasty squabble.

It all started when my grandparents were first married. My grandmother was just 19. Being relatively inexperienced in the kitchen, Maridell’s cooking could not hold a candle to her mother-in-law’s — and her new husband wasn’t afraid to tell her so. Donald’s mother was of the”a pinch of this, a handful of that” school, a naturally gifted cook with years of practice feeding her family of hungry Danes. It was a major victory when Grandma Maridell finally found something she could make better — sour cream raisin pie, her husband’s favorite dessert.

Alas, her victory was short-lived. Once her daughters came of pie-making age, they too mastered the secrets of sour cream raisin, and have been competing ever since to win their father’s heart through dessert. My mother thinks she is the champion, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Donald bestowed the ultimate compliment on whoever had most recently supplied him with pie. He’s wily that way.

Sadly, I have never made this popular recipe, so it is impossible for me offer up any advice or to elaborate on the admittedly brief instructions. I have been barred from the Mark family competition, as I am already dangerously close to being Grandpa’s favorite. It doesn’t bother me, though. Sometimes you don’t have to play to win.

Sour Cream Raisin Pie

From Maridell Mark

2 eggs
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup sour cream
1 cup milk
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cloves
1/2 cup raisins

Combine and cook in heavy pan until thick. Add to baked pie crust. Top with meringue and brown in oven.

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Antique Versus Vintage

By Fran Hill

The Antiques Roadshow will be in Rapid City this weekend taping for their 2013 PBS season. My husband is a HUGE fan and seldom misses a Sunday viewing of this show. Several friends have tickets to visit the appraisers for the event and have the mysteries of their valuables unlocked and assessed. I was feeling quite jealous of their chance to rub elbows with the Keno twins, but lucky for me, an opportunity to volunteer with the program opened up.

I am required to attend a training session, wear sensible shoes, work a long day of what will most likely be directing guests to the nearest restroom, and can bring something of my own for appraisal. If you know me, you are probably concerned about the sensible shoe requirement. My usual strappy wedge sandals and pointy-toed boots don’t really fall into a judicious category. Never fear. I do have shoes that can stand up to 12 hours on a concrete floor.

What troubles me is the appraisal. My home is filled with many thrift store and antique shop finds along with a few sentimental, inherited pieces. However, my treasures are more what you would call”vintage” rather than”antique.” Sell everything I own in one big lot, and you wouldn’t have enough cash to purchase a reproduction Tiffany lamp, let alone an original. I basically own a collection of carefully collected junk. Cue my panic.

Fortunately, as a volunteer, my willingness to do the bidding of the PBS crew is more important than lugging an antique oil painting through the doors of the venue. I don’t *have to* bring an item for appraisal. I just have to work. I can do that, and my hoard can remain blissfully vintage.

Strawberry Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake seems blissfully vintage to me, as well. The reliance on the convenience of cake mix and jello harkens to the 1950s instead of the 1850s. Passed from neighbor to neighbor over coffee, and included in every church cookbook, this recipe is a treasure that doesn’t need to be appraised, just enjoyed.

Strawberry Rhubarb Upside-Down Cake

4 cups rhubarb, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
6 teaspoons Minute Tapioca (instant)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 3-ounce package strawberry Jell-O gelatin
1 18-ounce white cake mix
3 eggs
1/3 cup oil
1 1/3 cups water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9×13 pan. Combine rhubarb, tapioca, sugar, and dry Jell-o together in a bowl. Pour into the bottom of the prepared pan. Combine remaining ingredients for cake as instructed on package. Pour cake batter over rhubarb mixture in pan. Bake for 1 hour. Serve with whipped cream. Serves 12.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and two dogs reside near Colome.