And then they shrink anyway.
Check it out, fig Newtons with figs and dates and after all that trouble of turning palm fruits into sludge so the result isn't lumpy and all that measuring and numerical precision with dough size, the thing that I learned foremost is figs and dates are a lot better in their original form. Now I have a pint jar of fig/date sludge and it really is delicious with no sugar or spice or anything added. But I'd rather have the fruit. And it was a lot of trouble.
7 comments:
Cicero advises livening up speeches with jokes, one concerning the man whose wife hanged herself on a fig tree, who was asked for a cutting of the tree by a passerby so that he could plant it.
There just might be such a thing as a date Newton. At one point there were apple Newtons, and cranberry Newtons, and raspberry Newtons, and snozzberry Newtons.
Maybe that's changed and maybe it hasn't.
Are there still, like, 50,000 different kinds of Cheerios?
Cheerios. I get it. They're in the shape of an "o" and the advertising people what you to think they're cheery, to fool you into thinking they have some magical ability to make you cheery, too. I get it.
But I wonder whether someone sounded a dischordant note. Said, "Hey, wait a minute. Cheerio is the way the Brits say goodbye. I saw it in a movie. We want the cereal to say hello, good morning, not goodbye."
And everybody else said, "Shut the fuck up, asshole."
Story of my life.
I'm impressed. Never witnessed anyone make home-made fig newtons.
Little funny7 factoid. I grew up on a street next to a street named "fig" and guess who lived on the corner? yep - The Newtons.
Ha ha ha. To grow for his own wife to hang. What odd combination patience without forbearance. Die! I can wait.
These turned out very good and very easy too. Much better than the packaged cookie. My dad liked those. I made these for him in my mind and then ate them.
The zested orange peel changes the taste of dough portion completely. These are different from those commercial ones. Mine are buttery.
The paste inside is lighter too. Softer. Less seeds. Both portions lighter, the cookie altogether lighter.
Both portions are easy as can be too, the filling is only diced fruit and water boiled for 45 minutes. Recipes say add sugar and cinnamon but tasting as I go, and I needn't because I like both fruits, I like the taste of the paste just as it is. Now I have a jar of spread.
They would be great with coffee but I don't drink that crap. It turns my guts inside out and races my one last good nerve. twangtwangtwangtwangtwangtwang coffee sits on the nerve and twangs it so my whole body shakes.
And that's not good.
"Honey, where's my tongue scrapper?"
"I put it in the dishwasher, Dear."
So Ovaltine it is.
You know what? A brewery shop opened up downstairs directly below me, directly, called Co-Brew. They sell beer-making equipment and everything that goes with all that effort, and they have some kind of deal where you can use their facilities to brew if you want to but do not have the space for it yourself. They will have malt, probably in powder and liquid forms, and probably three different strengths, if I have my brewery supply equipment knowledge on point.
This tells me I can go down there and buy malt, actually some sort of malted grain, a strange sticky powder, to add to regular chocolate powder to produce my own Ovaltine, my own malted chocolate milk.
But why do that?
Malt has other purposes too as with bread and so does sweetened chocolate powder. And because Ovaltine is all fluffed up and light and rather expensive for the amount that you get and go through. You have to buy a couple canisters each time and make sure you always have backup Ovaltine. They should give you a lot more. They're skimming the market of users like myself. And I'm tired of popping open all those round containers. One of 'em is going to explode one of these days and I'll end up with Ovaltine all over everytihng just like when I didn't put the bucket all the way in for the grain mill wheat dust filled the apartment. A couple, three, four, times of that and swear never let it happen again.
The thing about dates, as I remember from a Jean Shepherd monologue, is that they're pollenated by the date wasp, which goes into the flower and doesn't come out again.
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