Tag Archives: food

Chocolate Cake: Because Summer Needs Dessert Too

Posted on by | No Comments

Freshly baked chocolate sheet cake covered in thick white frosting and rainbow sprinkles, resting on a cooling rack in a home kitchen.

A Chocolate Cake Kind of Day

Lately I haven’t been testing too many recipes. We’re deep into the summer months, which to me means hamburgers, hot dogs, and steak. I grew up with steak — my Dad loved it — but beef has been outrageous this year. So when my local supermarket had sirloins on sale three weeks in a row, well… there was no contest. Steak it was.

Lunch was a salad so I could enjoy my dinner without guilt. During this all‑too‑brief period of indulgence, I ignored the recipes landing in my email with startling regularity. Eventually I decided it was time to clear them out — and found a hidden gem I had to try.

Deliciously Moist Chocolate Cake

I am not adverse to using a box cake mix. They’re perfectly fine: open a box, toss in an egg and some oil, beat, bake, done. No muss, no fuss. I also hate frosting layer cakes (unless it’s carrot cake… ummmm cream cheese frosting). But I’m getting off track.

Buried in my emails was a recipe for a chocolate cake that I couldn’t resist.

Cake Ingredients

  • 1 ¾ cups flour
  • ¾ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 1 ¾ cups granulated sugar
  • 2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 teaspoons espresso powder (optional)
  • ½ cup vegetable oil
  • 2 large eggs (room temperature)
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1 cup buttermilk (room temperature)
  • 1 cup freshly brewed strong hot coffee or hot water

Instructions

Step 1: Preheat oven to 350°. Grease two 9‑inch cake pans (I used a 9×13 sheet pan because, as I said, I hate frosting layer cakes). If using round pans, line with parchment rounds and grease the parchment.

Step 2: Whisk flour, cocoa powder, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and espresso powder (if using) in a large bowl. Set aside.

Step 3: Using a stand or hand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, mix oil, eggs, and vanilla on medium‑high until combined. (If you’ve got a strong arm, a hand whisk works too.) Add the buttermilk and mix until combined.

Step 4: Pour the dry ingredients into the wet. Add the hot coffee or water and whisk/beat on low until the batter is completely combined. Batter will be thin.

Step 5: For 9‑inch pans: divide batter evenly and bake 23–26 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. For a 9×13 sheet pan: bake 35–40 minutes.

Step 6: Let the cake cool at least 1 hour, then frost with your favorite frosting.

What Makes This Cake Different?

For me, the biggest difference is the buttermilk. I went 60 years without ever using it, and now it seems I’m reaching for it at least once a week. This cake calls for a full cup.

If you don’t have buttermilk, here’s a DIY substitute: Add 2 teaspoons white vinegar or lemon juice to a measuring cup, then fill with room temperature whole milk to reach 1 cup. Let sit 5 minutes. It will curdle — that’s exactly what you want.

Coffee or espresso powder is common in chocolate cakes because it deepens the chocolate flavor. It does not make the cake taste like coffee. Still, I don’t like coffee — not even coffee ice cream — so I skipped the espresso powder and used hot chocolate instead of coffee. Hot water felt too bland.

The recipe warned that the batter would be thin, and it was. Very thin. But I soldiered on. It also said the center might collapse even if the cake is fully baked because cocoa powder can’t support the weight of such a moist batter. Another good tip. So don’t beat yourself up if it looks like your cake fell. Just wait until you taste it.

Final Thoughts

I used traditional Crisco‑based birthday cake frosting instead of buttercream. It’s messy to clean up, but so rich and yummy that it’s worth every sticky bowl.

This cake is more involved than a box mix or even my usual from‑scratch cakes, but the difference is noticeable. They aren’t kidding when they say moist. The crumb is beautiful, and it holds together nicely.

This one is definitely going into my special‑occasion rotation.

 

Frog Eye Salad and Other Foods That Sound Gross (But Aren’t)

Posted on by | No Comments
A blue bowl filled with creamy frog eye salad made of acini di pepe pasta, pineapple, mandarin oranges, and colorful mini marshmallows, with a spoon resting inside the mixture.

Frog Eye Salad

When a Name Makes You Pause

How much are you influenced by the name of a food. Have you ever looked at a menu and thought, oh that sounds good — or just as quickly said, absolutely not. Would you try something that sounds, well… disgusting.

Recently one of the food bloggers I follow sent out a recipe for Frog Eye Salad. Yup. Frog eyes. It instantly made me think of a witch’s brew. All it needed was a little eye of newt or maybe a bat wing to round it out. Now, if they said frog legs, I could get behind that. After all, we eat chicken wings and legs, turkey legs, and even chicken feet. Why not frog legs. But frog eyes. I draw the line.

Fancy Names for Questionable Things

And while we’re talking about things that sound questionable, let’s consider eggs. We cook with chicken eggs every day, but I won’t even consider caviar. It doesn’t sound bad, but it’s fish eggs. I can’t. I just can’t. Meanwhile, I do like escargot — especially with garlic, butter, and cheese. Leave it to the French to make a tasty dish out of something slimy, but at least they gave it a cool name. Escargot is much easier to swallow than snails.

Moving on, let’s consider foie gras. Another French concoction. It sounds exotic and high‑brow. How do the French do that? It’s just a fancy name for goose liver. Goose liver pâté. Slap it on a cracker and voilà — a tasty appetizer. Ummm… no thank you.

Halloween Foods Are Just Drama Queens

Bloody Brains for Halloween

Now, if you’re preparing a Halloween feast, you might reconsider that Frog Eye Salad. Remember what started this whole train of thought. Halloween foods are basically regular dishes with dramatic names. A plate of “bloody brains” is just spaghetti with red sauce or a strawberry Jell‑O mold. “Monster eyeballs” can be mozzarella balls with an olive slice. And no one can skip “spider eggs” for a total gross‑out — deviled eggs topped with olive slices arranged like spider legs.

But back to the Frog Eye Salad. Is it a real thing? Yes. Yes it is. And based on the ingredient list, I think it might even be edible. No bat wings required. Not even any frog eyes.

Frog Eye Salad

A sweet, chilled holiday dessert made with acini di pepe pasta, coconut, pineapple, mandarin oranges, and marshmallows.

 Prep Time: 15 mins Cook Time: 20 mins Additional Time: 9 hrs Total Time: 9 hrs 35 mins Servings: 10

Ingredients

  • 1 ¾ cups unsweetened pineapple juice
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 2 large eggs, beaten
  • 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  • 2 ½ teaspoons salt, divided
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
  • 1 (16 ounce) package acini di pepe pasta *
  • 3 (11 ounce) cans mandarin oranges, drained
  • 2 (20 ounce) cans pineapple tidbits, drained
  • 1 (20 ounce) can crushed pineapple, drained
  • 1 (8 ounce) container frozen whipped topping, thawed
  • 1 cup miniature marshmallows
  • 1 cup shredded coconut

Directions

  1. Combine pineapple juice, sugar, eggs, flour, and ½ teaspoon salt in a saucepan. Cook over medium heat until thickened.
  2. Remove from heat; stir in lemon juice. Cool to room temperature, about 1 hour.
  3. Bring a large pot of water to a boil; add oil and remaining salt. Cook pasta until al dente, 5–7 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold water.
  4. Combine pasta, cooled egg mixture, oranges, pineapple tidbits, crushed pineapple, and whipped topping in a large bowl. Refrigerate 8 hours or overnight.
  5. Before serving, add marshmallows and coconut; toss and serve.

*Note: In case you didn’t know (I didn’t) acini di pepe pasta is a very small, round pasta (about 0.2–0.3 cm). It’s Tender but slightly chewy when cooked al dente.

Let me know if you make it. I’m still struggling with the name.

And while I’m thinking about it, there are plenty of less‑than‑appetizing food names out there. Ants on a log comes to mind — and it’s actually a favorite of mine, though I’d never call it that. To me, it’s peanut butter on celery. Then we can head to England and enjoy Toad in the Hole (sausages baked in batter), same family as our pigs in a blanket. And while you’re there, would you like a dish of Spotted Dick.

There are a bunch more. What’s your favorite gross‑sounding food or meal. Or what’s something you’d never try just because the name is off‑putting. Bring it on. Inquiring minds want to know.

 

Boogie in the Bogs: A Massachusetts Cranberry Story

Posted on by

A close-up view of fresh cranberries, glossy and bright red, filling the entire frame.

Sweet Stuff and a Tart Little Legend

We’ve talked about all the sweet things Massachusetts is famous for — cookies, candies, Cambridge’s confectioner’s row, and that little “INN” in Wareham — but there’s one flavor we haven’t touched yet. And honestly? It’s one of my favorites.

Cranberries. The original sweet‑tart.

Fall Means Bog Season

Once fall rolls around, it’s time to boogie in the bogs. The colors turn electric red, the air gets crisp, and every farm stand suddenly smells like cider donuts and chocolate‑covered cranberries. I will happily pig out on those tart little gems until someone pries the bag out of my hands.

Ocean Spray: Born Tart, Raised Bold

Ocean Spray is a cornerstone of Massachusetts life, and its headquarters sit right in Lakeville — practically down the road from me. I’ve always loved their slogan: Born Tart. Raised Bold. It fits the berry and the people who grow it.

The company started with just three maverick farmers who weren’t afraid of bold beginnings. Today, around 700 family growers carry that same spirit forward. That’s a lot of families keeping a very Massachusetts tradition alive.

A Berry With Deep Roots

Cranberries aren’t just a fall decoration or a Thanksgiving side dish. They’re one of the oldest cultivated crops in New England. Native peoples harvested wild cranberries long before colonists arrived, using them for food, medicine, and dyes. When commercial bogs began popping up in the 1800s, Massachusetts quickly became the cranberry capital of the country.

And here’s the fun part: Most of those bogs aren’t on Cape Cod at all. They’re north of the bridges — in Carver, Wareham, Middleboro, Lakeville, and all through southeastern Massachusetts. The Cape gets the fame, but the mainland grows the berries.

How a Bog Works

Cranberry bogs aren’t ponds, and they aren’t fields. They’re a little of both. The vines grow low to the ground, and when harvest time comes, the farmers flood the bog. Cranberries float — which means the berries rise to the surface in a bright red sea. Workers corral them with big booms, scoop them up, and send them off to become juice, sauce, dried snacks, and those chocolate‑covered beauties I love so much.

If you’ve never seen a bog harvest, put it on your fall bucket list. It’s like watching the land turn into a giant bowl of cranberry punch.

Cranberries: A Year‑Round Massachusetts Flavor

Cranberries may be harvested in the fall, but they’re a Massachusetts flavor for all seasons. Summer cookouts, beach days, backyard evenings — cranberries show up everywhere if you let them. Sprinkle a handful into your summer salad and suddenly all those greens have a little bite, a surprise pop of tart flavor that jumps out and wakes the whole bowl up. And one of my favorite summer treats proves it.

A Seasonal Favorite: The Loaded Cranberry Hot Dog

This is the hot dog that says cranberries aren’t just for Thanksgiving — they’re for July, August, and every sunny day in between.

A hot dog in a bun topped with stuffing and cranberry sauce, served in a red‑and‑white checkered basket with bowls of stuffing and cranberry sauce in the background.

Here’s how to build one:

  • Place cooked hot dogs and buns on a platter for serving.
  • Add cranberry sauce into a serving bowl with a spoon.
  • Add gravy into a serving bowl with a spoon.
  • Add stuffing into a serving bowl with a spoon.
  • Build your hot dog by adding stuffing, a spoonful of cranberry sauce, and a drizzle of gravy over the top for a fully loaded summer hot dog.

It’s sweet, savory, tart, bold — and it works shockingly well. Cranberries aren’t just a fall tradition. They’re a Massachusetts tradition, all year long.

 

Massachusetts: Where the Sweet Stuff Happen

Posted on by

Five glossy chocolate Junior Mints candies arranged on a white surface, with one cut open to reveal the smooth white mint filling.

With the Fourth of July just passed and everyone enjoying waterfront strolls, cookouts and all the summer traditions, I fell down a fun little rabbit hole this morning — the “Massachusetts Food Hall of Fame.” We all know our big hitters: Toll House cookies born in Whitman, Fig Newtons created in Cambridge, and the cranberry empire that practically defines the state. But here’s one I didn’t expect to add to the list:

Junior Mints are made right here in Massachusetts.

A Minty Massachusetts Surprise

Not invented here — but still produced here, and have been for 75 years. That’s a long time for a candy to stay put.

Back in 1949, the James O. Welch Company released Junior Mints and named them after a popular Broadway show called Junior Miss. Welch was based in Cambridge, and at the time the area was known as Confectioner’s Row.

In the mid‑1940s, more than 65 candy companies operated in Cambridge. Sixty‑five! Today, only one remains — the Junior Mints plant, still tucked into an unassuming building near Central Square.

You’ve probably driven past it without realizing you were passing the birthplace of movie‑theater minty goodness.

The Last Candy Maker Standing

The factory is now owned by Tootsie Roll Industries, who took over the brand in 1993. And despite its quiet little presence, the place is busy: it turns out over 15 million Junior Mints every single day.

They also make Charleston Chews and Sugar Babies, so if you grew up with those in your Halloween bag, there’s a good chance they came from Cambridge too.

Mint Cousins… But Not Related

And yes — even though Junior Mints and York Peppermint Patties look like cousins, they’re not related. York started in Pennsylvania and eventually landed under Hershey. Massachusetts gets the minty chocolate pillow; Pennsylvania gets the minty chocolate puck.

A Sweet Addition to the Massachusetts Legacy

So now, when you’re grabbing snacks for the parade or the fireworks, you can toss a box of Junior Mints into your cart and say you’re supporting local history. Toll House cookies, Fig Newtons, and Junior Mints — three very different treats, all tied to our little corner of New England.

Not bad for a state that’s only 190 miles long. I guess I know where my sweet tooth comes from!

 

 

To Break or Not to Break- the Great Spaghetti Debate

Posted on by

Lovely long strands of spaghetti with meat sauce. Looks good

🍝 The Great Spaghetti Myth: Why We’re Told Not to Break It (and What Really Happens in the Pot)

Every home cook has heard it at least once — usually from a cookbook, a TV chef, or a well‑meaning relative:

“Never break spaghetti.”

It’s one of those kitchen commandments that gets passed down like gospel, even though most of us have no idea why. I certainly didn’t. I just knew that if I wanted the pasta to fit in my pot, I snapped it in half and moved on with my life.

Then one day I watched a cooking show where the chef placed long, elegant strands of spaghetti into a potPot too small? Lets get to the bottom of the great debate of boiling water… and left the top half sticking straight out like a pasta bouquet. As the bottom softened, the noodles slowly slid into the pot on their own, as if obeying some ancient culinary law.

It looked dramatic. It looked professional.
It also made absolutely no sense to me.

Wouldn’t the bottom half overcook while the top half was still raw?
Turns out — yes. Yes, it would.

So let’s bust this myth properly.

🍝 Myth #1: “Don’t break spaghetti — it’s wrong.”

This one comes straight from Italian culinary tradition. In Italy, pasta shapes are treated with the same respect we give to Thanksgiving turkey or Grandma’s cast‑iron skillet. Long pasta is meant to stay long because:

  • it twirls better
  • it holds certain sauces better
  • it creates a specific eating experience

Breaking it is seen as messing with the design.
But here’s the truth: there’s no practical kitchen disaster waiting for you if you snap a noodle. It’s mostly cultural, not scientific.

🍝 Myth #2: “Let the spaghetti stick out of the pot — it will slide in evenly.”

This one is pure TV magic.

Here’s what actually happens:

  • The submerged half starts cooking immediately.
  • The exposed half stays stiff and dry.
  • The bottom softens, bends, and eventually pulls the top down.

But by the time the top half finally joins the party, the bottom has already been cooking for a minute or two. That means uneven texture unless you’re stirring constantly — which, by the way, TV chefs are doing, just off‑camera.

So no, the “half‑in, half‑out” method doesn’t create some perfect, even cook. It just looks good on screen.

✔️ So what should you do?

The real technique — the one Italian cooks actually use — is simple:

  1. Put the spaghetti in whole.
  2. Let the ends stick out for 20–30 seconds.
  3. As soon as the submerged part softens, gently bend the rest into the water.
  4. Stir early and often.

That’s it. No snapping required, no dramatic pasta fountain, no uneven cooking.

🍝 Or… you can take the modern shortcut

If you don’t want to break spaghetti and you don’t want to deal with the Leaning Tower of Pasta routine, there’s a third option:

You can now buy “Pot‑Sized Spaghetti.”

It’s literally spaghetti that’s already cut to fit a standard pot.
No snapping.
No bending.
No half‑in, half‑out noodle acrobatics.

Just drop it in and go.

Purists may clutch their pearls, but honestly? It’s brilliant for busy home cooks who just want dinner on the table without a philosophical debate about noodle length.

🍽️ The Bottom Line

You can break spaghetti if you want.
You can leave it long if you prefer.
You can even buy the pot‑sized version and skip the whole issue entirely.

But now you know the why behind the myth — and the real science behind what’s happening in the pot.

And honestly? That’s half the fun of cooking: discovering that the rules we’ve been following forever sometimes have more to do with tradition than technique.

Mangia!