Elvis has left the building: Meet my nemesis

Meet my nemesis: Tamias minimus.

Yes. You read correctly. Nemesis.

Many of us have one. Heck. Some of us have more than one.

It could be the guy who always gets the last double chocolate doughnut with the sparkly sprinkles on the rack leaving you with the stale unglazed-because-they-forgot-to-ice-them generic-things-that-could-be-better-used-as-hemorrhoids-cushions doughnuts; the woman who, regardless of which store she's in, can always get an eager and helpful sales clerk, while you've an armload of items to try on and the clerk guarding the changerooms is too busy texting her friend to bother unlocking a door for you, or the gal who can always get the cutest pair of shoes in her size, at 60 per cent off regular price because her feet are just so dainty. (Umm...yeah--I'm the one who usually gets the last good doughnut, sales clerks (and waiters) fawn over me and umm...I have teeny feet).

I hear you cooing over the cute, fuzzy wittle woodland cweature above. "How could such an adorable little thing be a nemisis?" you ask.

Trust me. They're only cute and fuzzy when they're in a woodland setting. They are NOT cute and fuzzy when they're running through and hiding in your main floor. When they are running through and hiding in your main floor, they are what I call "vermin."

And while I've not had dealings with this particular chipmunk before, I've lived the main points of this tale before. We have a history.

I had a rotten morning, punctuated by miscommunications and my jumping to conclusions; by noon I was hoping for a do-over. Since I don't have a TARDIS, my next best option was to ponder my stupidity by planting some lovely violet and plum coloured icicle pansies and assess the bunny damage to my plants. The front doors were wide open, so I could traipse in and out as my little bewildered heart pleased.

That's when the little begger decided to stage a home invasion.

Sure...strike when I'm down. I expect that from my enemies.

Admittedly, I didn't notice anything was wrong at first. I cleaned up from playing in the mud continued my contemplative therapies, this time armed with bucket, broom and mild abrasives.

And that's when I saw him...standing all cock-of-the-walk-like on my credenza. Sure he could have been mistaken for a stuffed animal (my little stuffed Cthulhu does live in the dining room), but really given my B&E history with others of his ilk, I have no desire to keep reminders around.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

It scampered into hiding, behind the stack of cookery books I have yet to review.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

There's poo and pee all over the credenza. There's poo and pee all over a shelf I've set up for food photography. A teak shelf. A teak shelf that's now chipmunk pee stained.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

I clean it up and go into the kitchen. There's poo in several places...including the cat's water dish and my aprons' tails.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

Darn you, you little cute furry little woodland creature who's out of his element!

I summoned the cats.

The cats did not come.

I went to look for the cats.

Hagia was on in the TV temple, snoozing on the couch. She opened her big pumpkin eyes.

"Hagia. Time to earn your keep. Go stalk and eat the chipmunk."

She closed her big pumpkin eyes and went back to sleep.

Zeus was in the carton behind the fireplace, willing himself to be invisible...or so I think...I couldn't see him.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

After almost three hours, camped out in the dark, eyes trained on the open kitchen door, ironically quiet as a mouse (well, not so quiet--I was occasionally updating my Twitter feed about this), the chipmunk exited my condo.

Yes, after a few false starts, Elvis has left the building...

...but not before helping himself to the cats' food and water. The door was closed after him.

YAY

I went into the dining room to take a look at whatever damage the critter caused.

I might as well have not cleaned up the dining room after lunch. I'd heard little animals void their bowels while running, to make them lighter, ergo, faster. Apparently chipmunks are poo-propelled as its output rivalled that of a bull moose.

I even found poo in the bowls of my mini muffin tin.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

A few hours later, my fingers wrinkled from rinse water and the air pungent with bleach and other cleaners, and every surface Elvis obviously touched, ran over or simply looked at was scrubbed within an inch of their anthropomorphic lives, I was in need of a bit of sweet solace.

I've been preoccupied with chocolate chip cookies as of late. It's very much unlike me--to crave chocolate chip cookies, that is. Growing up, My Dear Little Cardamummy baked the occasional batch, but returning to a cookie-perfumed house was not the norm.

My little kitchen must have churned a score or two of chocolate-studded biscuits since the end of August. The main problem being I've misplaced the slip of paper that holds my favourite chocochip cookie recipe. I've tried several recipes and while I've not replicated the *one,* This version by Alton Brown is a step in the right direction.

Unlike most other cookie recipes where you start by creaming butter, sugar and eggs and then add the dry ingredients, this one is put together as you would muffins: sift the dry ingredients together, then mix the wet ingredients, tip the wet into dry, give it a stir and drop onto the prepared sheet.

The number of cookies you get are entirely dependent upon the generosity of your cookie spoon. I used my 1.5 tsp sized spoon and could get about five dozen cookies.

The result are lovely chewy-crisp flat cookies, perfect with a cup of coffee.

Even more perfect after yet another run in with your nemesis.

Chocolate Chip Cookie No. 10
from I'm Just Here for More Food by Alton Brown (opens into my Amazon.ca shop)

150g ap flour
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
150g sugar
145g brown sugar
225g salted butter, melted
2 eggs
1tsp vanilla
300g chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 180C/375F; line baking sheets with parchment.

Sift dry ingredients together.

Mix wet ingredients together; Tip into dry and stir until combined. Fold chocolate chips into batter.

Drop by spoonful onto prepared baking sheet, leaving about 2.5 cm between each blob. Bake for 6-9 minutes or until golden brown.


cheers!
jasmine

Chipmunk photo credit: Douglas Haase, via Flickr.

I'm a quill for hire!

Guest post by Mr. Bean: My Humman Cat is bizy

Hallo all my luvelly humman cats!

Did you miss me? I missed you! You all look so pretty!

Oh look there are new hummin cats here! Halloo to you too! Am I not handsum and cute?

You don't know hoo I am?

My name is Mr. Bean (my frendz call me Beanie). I used to live with my humman cat but I don't any more. I live with Gramma and Grampa. It's nicer here. They feed me chicken all the time and they cuddle me all the time and I get to help Grampa fix things. Last week I soopervized cuz he had to fix the water pipes. It's so hard making shure he does a good job. He doesn't listen to me at all. I keep rolling the pipes to make shure they roll good and he takes them away from me. But Gramma sometimes gives me something called "pork" and it's gud. She puts lots of nice things on the meat to make it taste yummy!

Bestest of all iz there's no Hagia and Zeus here and I gets all the chicken and cuddles. I'm NOT greedy. I deserve it all and more!

My humman cat (she will always bee my humman cat) told me that when she was on hollydaisies her friend told her that she liked it when I writed to all you nice peepuls. She aksed me if I could write today because she is so buzzy.

I don't no what she does all day. She was never there when I lived with her. So if I can't see her she can't be doing anything? Rite? She told me she has to be gone at sumthing called a Ree-treat. She said it was three daise of meetings for a course she's taking. She says she will be working very hard.

A ree-treat? It sounds like all she will be doing is geting lots and lots of treats! Like cakes and cookies and roast beef and chicken. Imajine three days of eating all them lovely fuds! That's not hard! That's FUN!!!!

I don't know if you know but Jasmine had a burthday a foo days ago. She always has yummy things with Gramma and Grampa and I hoped there would be some yummy things for me to eat too.

There wasn't. She asked for fish.

I don't like fish.

I like chicken. If she loved me she would have asked for chicken so I could have some. She can keep her yukky fish.

I didn't get any yummy food for supper. Lookit how mean she is!

I thought I might have some yummy cake and icing. I like icing. But it was chocklit.

I asked for some and she said "No Beanie. You can't have any. It's poysunus for pussycats."

But she's a humman cat! If I can't have any, she shouldn't have any.

It's not fair. I'm a good boy and I give nice hugs and I purr. I should have some cake. I looked sad at her with my speshul look that says I'm a good boy who has never eaten anything in my whole entire life. She's so mean. I didn't get anything good to eat. Only cat fud.

I wasn't allowed to have any of the burthday yummys she made for her frenz at wurk. I didn't even SEE the yummy things...except for theese pictures. They are Peanut Butter Chocolate Tartelettes. See? They have chocklit and I can't eet them too.

Why couldn't she make chicken tartelettes? Then I could have one. But I don't want the chicken with peanut butter. I don't think I would like that.

She got the recipe from that funny humin cat on the TV with the funny head fur called Alton Brown.

She gave me the recipe to give to you. She puts everything on a waying machine and cooks that way. I don't like waying machines. Whenever I get on one the the numburs say 21 or 22 sometimes 24 and then Gramma says I have to loose weight and stops feeding me chicken. That's not nice.

So here is the way Jasmine made those tartelettes. She said they were yummy and her wurk friends gobbled thems all ups.

I'm tired now and I'm going to have a sleep. I hope you all have a good day! If you like it when I rite to you please let my humman cat no and maybe she will let me rite to you again.

Alton Brown's Peanut Butter Pie
(makes 15 tartelettes)

180g chocolate cookie crumbs
1 Tbsp sugar
85g salted butter, melted
335g peanut butter (200 crunchy, 135 creamy)
55g soft salted butter
85g icing sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
55g bittersweet chocolate, chopped
75ml heavy cream

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F.

Mix together the crumbs, sugar and melted butter. Press into tartlette tins and bake for about 5 minutes and let cool completely.

Cream together the butter and peanut butter, then sieve in the icing sugar and blend well. Mix in the vanilla extract. Divide peanut butter filling between the shells, smoothing the tops as carefuly as possible. Return to the oven and bake for about six minutes. Let cool.

Make a ganash by scalding the cream and then tipping the chocolate pieces into the hot liquid. Let sit for a couple of minutes. Stir carefully until the chocolate and cream combine. Spread the over the peanut butter filling and cool for at least an hour before serving.

cheers!
jasmine

What I'm reading: Rex Stout's Fer de Lance (opens to my Amazon.ca associates store)

I'm a quill for hire!

Where I went on my summer vacation: Toronto

A trip to Toronto isn't usually something I blog about. It takes me anywhere from an hour (on a super good day and the OPP isn't anywere in sight), to an hour and a halfish (on an average day) to so long I can't remember why I ever wanted to venture out there.

There are always exceptions to this, such as meeting a favourite person or doing something interesting or both. This is one of those exceptions.

Like Ottawa, Toronto was very food focussed. Incredibly food focussed. So food focussed I have no idea if I did anything (apart from look for parking) that wasn't food focussed. I think I spent a good six or seven hours eating, drinking and perusing foodish pursuits. There's little wonder why my clothes are just that much snugger.





You know you're in for a good meal when all you have to say is "Yeah, I'm meeting a friend at an Italian restaurant for lunch. Can't remember what it's called, but it's at Richmond and Victoria." and the response is gleeful "Ooh! Osteria Ciceri e Tria!" you know it's going to be good.

We shared the daily antipasti--a sampler tray, if you will. They were my word, they were good. I can remember all but one, but what I do recall--arincini di riso studded with cuttlefish, meatball in marinara sauce, lamb stew with crostini, fig with ham--was fabulous. For her main, my friend had the gnocchi with seafood; I had tagliatelle with duck ragu. We tried two desserts--a hazelnut tarte and a little cake (again, my memory fails).













If you read Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess, you know that we shared a fabulous iced coffee that afternoon. She wrote getting together was like meeting an old friend. It was.

Jennifer and I have been emailing each other, off and on, for years--(this month marks my fourth year foodblogging on Cardamom Addict; Jenn's been The Domestic Goddess for almost six years). We've cohosted events and sent questions and comments back and forth to one another, but in all this time we've never managed to meet.

There was an immediate ease and familiarity--the type that's normally reserved for long lost friends who haven't seen each other in years. We sat at a patio and chatted about family and friends and Ottawa. We talked about blogging and characters who've come and gone in those years. We talked about our current real life adventures. Every once in a while pausing (or trying to out-volume) the Blue Angels as they zoomed over head, rehearsing for the Air show.

Throughout, we were the targets of unwanted attention. No, not the wayward Bay Street crowd. A bee. Probably a relative of the one that harassed Yal and I. Cheeky monkey tried to steal some of my coffee too! That's just what I need...a fixated bee on a coffee buzz.

I could have spent all afternoon chatting with her, but alas, she wasn't on holidays. We parted ways and I found my self on the TTC at possibly one of the two most dangerous-to-me stores in Toronto. The Cookbook Store is one of my measured Meccas. Yes. A store devoted to cookbooks. The usual suspects from Food TV are there, but unlike other bookstores, they don't dominate the shelves. Here is where I find good food writers. Here is where I find interesting titles. Titles appear here, in their original format, before they appear in big-box bookstores, rewritten for the American audience. I left with a copy of Piri Piri Starfish, a book from which I desperately want to cook each and every single recipe.

My restraint at the Cookbook Store was easily voided as I peeked in at a neighbouring kitchenware shop. That peek ended up with me buying a terra cotta garlic keeper and a cast iron corncob printed cornbread tin. I'd seen them in magazines and recipe books and just couldn't resisit.

It was inaugurated the next day with my variant of my favourite cornbread recipe. Using a combination of maple syrup and brown sugar, the bread has a sweet-smoky flavour. I'm sure the niblet pattern discernable in the cute little cobs only helps to make the cornbread even more tasty.



Maple Corn Bread

125g ap flour
1tsp salt
1Tbsp baking powder
1/4tsp baking soda
120g cornmeal
50g brown sugar
1 egg2Tbsp
vegetable oil
225ml milk
125ml maple syrup

Preheat oven to 200C/400F.

Seive together flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in cornmeal.

Beat together the egg, sugar and oil until smooth. Mix in the maple syrup and milk. Pour into dry ingredients and mix well.

Pour into prepared 22cm (9") cake pan or muffin tin. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until an inserted skewer comes out clean.


cheers!
jasmine

Oh, and the other dangerous-to-me shop? Well, if I mentioned it by name, I'm sure the percentage of solicitous emails I receive will increase. That's a lot coming from the gal who's also the Sensual Gourmet...But really, I highly recommend them, especially if you're well beyond what regular department stores stock.

What I'm reading:

I'm a quill for hire!