Hermits: Two Ways

Chances are if you live outside of the northeast corner of the United States, you may never have experienced the singular delight that is the hermit.  What's that you say?  A hermit?  You mean dudes who live in the woods alone? Oh no, all two of you dear readers.  Not only do I suspect those dudes may not be delightful, but I also frown on cannibalism.  I'm talking about the second definition of hermit in the Merriam Webster Dictionary, and the first definition of favorite cookie in my heart:

Merriam Webster

I double dog dare you to use beadsman in a sentence.  I mean, what's not to love about a spiced molasses cookie (unless you like neither spice nor molasses, in which case: look away, you're not about to like what's about to happen below).  

Hermits

I digress though, which is a shame because I could talk for days about how much I've loved hermits since childhood (New England grocery stores do a pretty good one, for the record) and how I decided that I needed to learn how to make my own, motivated in part by being trapped inside during the Big Snow from basically January to March of 2015.  There was much research that happened; I consulted the Internet via the Googles and Pinterest, my cookbook cache (Joy of Cooking, New Best Recipe) and cobbled together something that I determined on my first try would be my only try going forward...until just this weekend when I got it into my head that adding candied ginger in lieu of raisins would be either a terrible idea or a highly delicious idea.  

Spoiler alert: it's a highly delicious idea.  Because it is the time of year when we survive on a diet comprised primarily of sugar, tidings and yule, washed down with nog, and also giving, I give to you, all two readers, the best ever hermit recipe (but yeah...I'm a librarian who teaches your kids to think good, so consider the source bias, duh), times two! 

Iced Coconut Latte

Do you enjoy fancy coffee beverages?  Do you sometimes feel as though a pirate may jump around the corner, cackling maniacally when you go to pay for it at the coffee shop or when you decide to buy a pre-made one at the store because the price is usually around eight dollars, one kidney, and the naming rights to your children?  As much fun as it would be to name a kid after a coffee beverage (“This is my baby, Non-fat Flat White Smith”), it’s also kind of ridonkulous to me that sometimes I pay like three to five bucks for a drink I could in some cases make on my own dayum time if I weren’t say...lazy.  I started to wonder if I could sort of make a coffee drink like one I’ve always really liked, Vita Coco’s Original Cafe Latte.  It’s available at that link but also available in most grocery stores in MA, and usually costs around $2.50-$3.00.  If you do that once, fine, but it’s not the most generous of pours, and that it can add up fast if say, you want two to fifteen of them a month.  Was there a way to make this at home, using say, the coffee and coconut and milk I already had?  I do enjoy a nice cold-brew made in a French press overnight in the summer, and it struck me that the easiest thing in the world would be to cold-brew my coffee using coconut juice instead of water.

Iced Coconut Latte

SCIENCE. Or something.   I’m clearly writing about this because it worked. Be cool, guys -- this discovery is about as important as when Ben Franklin, my favorite nudist, decided to take his tenders and also key on a kite out into a lightning storm to see what would happen.  I’ve never been accused of being a mathlete, but I think if you make a big batch of this, it’ll wind up saving you a bit over time (guesstimating that coffee is $9-12/lb, a 12 oz can of coconut juice can be purchased for $1 and up, and milk is...probably in your fridge already).  Also, there is no price for feeling smug, and you can get that too if you make this instead of buying it.  

Sidebar: Please note that I did not call this Thai.  Because seriously, why do we call everything with coconut Thai?  Do they even grow coffee in Thailand?  Coconuts grow like...anywhere near the equator.  Wouldn’t something like a coconut coffee drink be better served by calling it Mexican (just behind Thailand on the list of top coconut production in the world), or Brazilian (top producer of coffee in the world, also on the coconut list?) or even like...Indian. Get some Indian-Brazilian-Mexican Iced Coconut Coffee drink here right now! Not everything Mexican includes chile, dudes.  MIKE DROP.

Iced Coconut Latte

(Single serving)

Iced Coconut Latte

Ingredients

2 Tbsp ground coffee (heaping Tbsp for richer coffee flavor)

1 12 oz can coconut juice

¼ cup milk

ice, ice, baby

French Press

Directions

1. Pour coffee and coconut juice into a French press, but don’t press yet. Place in fridge and let chill 6-8 hours.
2. Press.  
3. Pour into a large cup and add milk and ice.  
4. If you feel fancy, add a straw.  
5. Enjoy.  

Notes:

You can make cold-press coffee even if you don’t have a French press!  Just let the mixture sit in a jar overnight, and then pour it through a coffee cone filter.

I wound up adding just a touch more milk to mine, because I prefer non-fat milk.  I suspect with a higher fat percentage the creaminess will work with the ¼ cup pour, but you get your calcium on any which way you want it!  

You could probably also use almond, soy or other milk substitute, but I’d warn you to be careful that the coconut already has a lot of sugar; you should probably use an unsweetened milk substitute unless you like feeling your teeth actively rotting.  

You may have a bit too much coconut juice for the size of the French press.  Just freeze any extra and make a coconut ice cube to use when you serve this!  

Recipe 18: Salty Strawberry Crisp (AKA Dinner Train: Little Women - Jo's Salty Strawberries)

Jo March is a terrible cook.  I mean, salty strawberries? Gross. And yet she tries, so I've chosen to honor this effort with a recipe that scores a spot on the Le Creuset Challenge roster: Salty Strawberry Crisp.  Unfortunately, I didn't think it was very good.  But I also don't like baked strawberries...so I might not be the best person to rate this one.  You can be the judge! Enjoy the bonus stroke of genius I had while pondering my freshly squeezed lemons from the lemonade I made, below the recipe. 

Jo's Salty Strawberries (AKA Salty Strawberry Crisp)

Jo's Salty Strawberries (aka Salty Strawberry Crisp)

(From The Craving Chronicles)

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

2-3 cups diced strawberries (I used fresh, but I bet frozen will work here too)

1 tsp fresh lemon juice

1 Tbsp granulated sugar (make sure it's not salt, Jo)

1 Tbsp cornstarch

15 Ritz crackers

1 tsp brown sugar

3 Tbsp salted butter, melted

a tiny bit of Kosher salt

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 350 and coat a small Le Creuset with cooking spray.
2. Toss the strawberries with the lemon juice, granulated sugar, and cornstarch in a medium bowl before pouring it into the prepared pot.
3. In another medium bowl, crush the Ritz into small pieces (fingers are sufficient) and add the brown sugar, and butter.  Combine until just damp but pretty evenly mixed.  Top the pot with the mixture and sprinkle a tiny, tiny toss of Kosher salt over the top. 
4. Bake for 25-30 minutes until the top is browned and there's some good bubblin' going on in your pot.
5. Remove, let cool for a few minutes, and serve with vanilla creamed ice or strawberry sorbet (bonus recipe below!)

Cold Pockets (aka Stuffed Frozen Lemons)

Got some lemons you've squeezed to make lemonade?  Got some sorbet?  You got the easiest fancy looking dessert ever.  Jo would probably still screw it up.

Take your lemon half, and cut of the very end, leaving some skin but creating a flat surface so it can stand on its own.  Scrape the inside clean with a spoon or parring knife.  Let your frozen sorbet thaw a bit for easy scooping.  When it's nice and pliable, fill the lemons, put them on a plate, and pop them back into the freezer for at least 20 minutes to get firm.  Garnish with a mint sprig, feel fancy, and gloat because it was the easiest, prettiest desert short of buying a cake.

Voila!