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“It’s amazing how much success you have in the kitchen despite your dislike of measuring and numbers,” David remarked casually one afternoon.

“Yeah, well,” I replied, “It’s like Ms. Vu told me my last day of Chemistry class…”

“Wait…Who said what?”

If you had to ask me my favorite teacher in high school, it would have been Ms. Vu, my chemistry teacher. Despite my, shall we say, complete ineptitude for conversion factors, I still enjoyed the class. At least until I dropped it.

Ms. Vu was a feisty Vietnamese lady with a thick accent, and what she lacked for in height, she made up for in attitude. No one had names in her class. You were either addressed as simply “kid” or your element name, which you were required to pick on the first day (Fe, represent).

Between actual Chemistry lessons, she regaled us with stories of swiping her friend’s moped and driving it full tilt into a chain link fence, or diving into a giant tub of sprinkles at a certain national chain of donut shops in only her underwear. “I wanted to see what it would feel like.” She explained casually. I swear I’m not making this up.

One day, after a particularly bad week of quizzes which I barely passed, she pulled me aside and gazed at me levelly. “Iron.” She said gravely. “You will not pass. You need to drop this class. Drop Chemistry. Find something you like better.”

I was only too happy to agree after struggling through the latter half of the quarter. But Ms. Vu wasn’t finished.

Cocking her head to the side, she gave me an assessing look. “Kid, it’s OK Chemistry is not for you. You are one of those people who will either succeed in life….or fail. Miserably. Just...crash and burn!” She emphasized the last part. I nodded, filed that away, and much to my parent’s dismay, dropped Chemistry the next day.

it's better to burn out...than..well, you know.

I’ve found that Ms. Vu’s prediction carries over to this day. I make very few dishes in the kitchen, especially with baking, that are mediocre. What I turn out -- whether it is beer muffins, scones, 7-layer bars or coconut macaroons -- turns out spectacularly, or is pretty much a complete disaster (remember calling the fire department when I tried to make donuts?). Thankfully, this creation falls into the first category.

yo dawg, I heard you like cookies, so I put a cookie in your cookie so you could eat cookies while you were eating cookies

I took much of the work and risk out of the recipe by using a mixes, but this could also be done with your favorite cookie and brownie recipes made from scratch. The jumbo muffin tin isn’t absolutely necessary, it’s easier to make them with one. The bake time will vary depending on how large your muffin tin is, so make sure to keep an eye on the oven and check with toothpicks often.

*title courtesy of: 5chw4r7z

The Quadruple B (Blueberry Beer Bundt):

Honestly, this baking thing is changing me forever. I once set a toaster on fire making pop-tarts. Now, as my confidence in my newfound ability expands, I find myself rising to the challenge.

I’m doing things I never thought I’d do. I’m buying things I never thought I’d need. I’m running out of cabinet space. I find myself wanting to hoard pyrex casserole dishes.

On our last trip to Sur la Table in Rookwood Commons, I was poking around the shelves, pulling out objects of various sizes and evaluating if I needed the small, large, or extra large. David, done with his perusal of the knife selection, came up behind me.

“What are you looking for?”
“The right size pan to fit my recipe.” I responded.
“A bundt pan?!”
“Uh-huh.”

That’s right, I bought a bundt pan. I associate bundt cakes with the ‘50’s era of cooking. You know, the flowered apron in the kitchen, roast in the oven, jello mold, golly-gee-whiz-mister era. But I bought one anyway, because I was about to attempt my most difficult recipe yet.

The blueberry beer bundt. The beer chosen was Three Philosophers, which has cherry and malty notes, and is a little tart. Once again, this cooking with booze recipe has been cobbled together from the farthest reaches of the internet to create a recipe that has the best qualities of a bundt while including some tasty beer characteristics. And macadamia nuts.

Recipe for the triple B:

3 cups self rising flour
1 cup beer
1/2 cup sour cream
3 eggs
¾ cup sugar
1 cup nuts
Blueberries (whatever amount you feel comfortable with)
1/2 cup butter
1 tablespoon vanilla.

Bake on 350 for an hour and 10 minutes. Make sure you test the cake to make sure it is cooked all the way before taking it out.

The bundt cake came out perfectly, but looked a little boring without an additional garnish. I made a topping of sweetened coconut flakes, leftover blueberries, and a little honey to glue them together.

The cake itself was very moist and pretty dense—if I had to do it over, I would have crushed the macadamias. All in all, the blueberry-tart-coco-macadamia flavor combination was pretty decadent.

Cheddar-corns (Cheddar chive beer biscuits):

As a counterpart to the scones, I put together a cheddar beer biscuit recipe for David. Little did I realize that by doing so, I had sent David down the path to learn the art of the biscuit. The cheddar-corns were only the beginning.

As of now, we’ve made several versions of the biscuits, with beer and without, with cheese and without, with buttermilk and butter; lastly, with olive oil and yogurt. We’ve both gained a little weight as a result of our tasty, tasty biscuit experimentations.

The basic version includes:

• 2 C Flour (lower-gluten makes for fluffier)
• 3 tsp Baking powder
• 1 tsp Salt
• 4 T Unsalted butter (cultured is a plus)
• 1 C Shredded cheese (sharp cheddar works well)
• 2 T Chives (dried or fresh)
• 1/2 C Buttermilk
• 1/2 C Beer (something fizzy and full-flavored)

1. Sift dry ingredients together
2. Cut in room-temperature butter until crumbly in appearance
3. Toss in cheese and chives
4. Add buttermilk and beer
5. Turn dough with fork until no loose flour is visible
6. Kneed on floured surface a few times and pat to 1/2" thickness
7. Cut with biscuit cutter and place on non-stick sheet
8. Top with shredded and/or grated cheese
9. Bake for about 15 minutes at 450.

For our first attempt. We chose Spaten lager as our beer—light, a little bready, but not too overpowering. David mixed up the dough and then asked me if we had a cookie cutter to cut the biscuits.

We only have one cookie cutter. I got it from one of my parents for Christmas. It’s exactly like the one we used to make cookies with when I was a kid.

The idea of making unicorn shaped beer biscuits was very appealing (at least, to me), so we went for it.

Chaaaarlie...Charrrrlie...we're on a paan, Charlie!*

The next version involved whole wheat flour and Old Rasputin stout. These biscuits were dense and darker than the last batch. They stuck with you, while the whole wheat flour lent a little bit of bitterness to the batch.



Then there were the cheddar chive drop beer biscuits made with white lily flour and Victory Golden Monkey.



And the buttermilk cheddar biscuits. These don't have any beer in them, but look so nice I couldn't leave them out of the post.

*Not all readers will get this reference.

Gruyere chive Saison Beer Bread:

While I made my muffins, David went the savory route, deciding on making a cheese and chive beer loaf.

Fresh grated gruyere was added to the loaf, and it was topped with a cheese blend of parmesan and asiago.

For the beer, he went with something a little spicy, to make the bread more interesting. He also tweaked the beer bread recipe to add an egg and butter, to enhance the fluffiness and richness of the bread.

The beer chosen was Clipper city’s Heavy Seas Saison—the red sky at night. David and I really like this beer. It’s one of the heavy seas line from Clipper city, so it’s a little over 7% ABV. At under $10 a six pack, it’s a pretty good value to be had. Their Loose Cannon Hop3 is also an excellent buy.

This beer is pleasant and refreshing to drink, a little spicy, and a little bit sweet. But how would it do in our beer bread?

The end result was delicious. The egg and butter made the bread more moist and fluffy—the bread, as you can see, actually rose so much if bent the tin foil pan—than the typical recipe, and we polished off the entire loaf in a few days, grabbing slices for breakfast.