Way back in the beginning of DCFUD, mousse was a topic of discussion (Will of Steel, Mousse of Chocolate, November 25, 2004). But in the mean time we have made an incredible discovery ranking with the invention of the wheel, at least. And that is…frozen mousse.
It all began innocently. I brought a large batch of mousse to a pot luck and someone casually asked me if I’d ever tried to eat it frozen. No actually, I hadn’t. But luckily there was some left over so I raced home and tossed it in the freezer.
Eureka does not being to describe my cries of elation at this transformation. Light, smooth, fabulous mousse is transformed into …smooth, chewy, well not ice cream but some divine frozen dessert all it’s own. You must try it.
In case you are wondering, here is the updated, streamlined recipe I used, more or less adapted from “How to Cook Everything” by Mark Bittman.
Great Chocolate (Frozen) Mousse
2 oz sweet butter
6 oz excellent European bittersweet chocolate
3 eggs separated
1/2 c sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla
2 TB kirsch, rum or other liquor or more to taste up to 1/4 cup

• Melt chocolate and butter over a double boiler, when melted stir to mix together and cool a minute or two

• Beat yolks well to mix, beat in chocolate
• Beat egg whites with 1/4 c of sugar until stiff. Set aside
  
• Beat the cream with the vanilla and other 1/4 c sugar until stiff

• Fold 1/4 of the whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten, fold in rest of whites
• Fold the in the whipped cream and kirsch until no white streaks remain
• Cover and refrigerate until firm – an hour or two minimum. OR FREEZE!!!! (Actually first I did refrigerate it and then froze it but I can’t see what that should be necessary)

This article by guest blogger MHF. Thanks!
Picture blatantly stolen from worth1000.com/

Well done to Kaz and Lockey of Australia who have just successfully created some serious baby!! As part of the future drinking Aussie population, here are my two favorite faux-alcohol drinks to get him started on. It’s never too early!
‘No innuendo’ banana daiquiri
Half a mashed ripe banana
One shot orange juice
A tsp lemon juice
Two tablespoons sugar
One shot water
Mix everything together and freeze. Fill a glass half full, and add sprite the rest of the way.
‘Just hanging out’ on the beach
One shot cranberry juice
One shot orange juice
One shot pineapple juice
One shot peach juice
Mix everything and pour it over crushed ice
Image blatently stolen from gothstuff.com

Zaf should be sending out resumes in a desperate attempt to assuage her broke-ness. As is, she’s sitting in Soho eating leftover hamentaschen (is there anything better than leftover hamentaschen?) and reading ‘Stand Facing the Stove.’
This is a great book. It is a wordy book. It is a vastly over-researched book (10 years, says the intro). It is a loooong book. It is the story of how the Joy of Cooking, America’s first popular cookbook, was written. I am a quarter through and I’ve only just finished reading about the first writer’s great grandfather’s military service. This book manages to miss the fact that, even though it is possible to research every single breath taken by your subject during their life, you shouldn’t.
Even so, this book rocks! And incidentally, so do the hamentaschen. Here’s the recipe I used, done in the original 1930’s Joy of Cooking style:
ZAF Hamentaschen
Amusingly ornamental, use these merry tart-letes to bring a degree of agreeable anarchy to a midday tea party or soirée (I swear I couldnt make this stuff up). Preheat oven to 375, then cream together:
…… 2/3 cup butter
…… 1/2 cup sugar
Add
…… 1 egg
And either
…… 1/4 cup orange juice
Or
…… 1/4 cups of water
That has been mixed with
…… 1 teaspoon of vanila
Gradually add
…… 2 cups of flour
Mix gently, but do not kneed, then refrigerate for three hours. Roll thin using process described on P. 134 for butter cookies. Place
…… 1 tablespoon of canned poppyseed filling
Or
…… 1 tablespoon of raspberry jam
In the middle of each circle. Fold up the sides to make a triangle, Squeeze the corners tightly. Bake for about 10 minutes or until golden brown

I returned home from the gym around 3 o’clock this afternoon, eager for a shower after spending the day sweating. Unfortunately, I returned home and there was no water. Not “no hot water,” mind you. No water.
No matter. Certainly this would get fixed before dinner time, meaning I can make pasta or do dishes or any of those normal Sunday kitchen-centered activities.
6:30 p.m. Still no water.
Time for plan B. Truth be told, making a dinner sans water isn’t really that difficult, particularly if you have a well-stocked pantry. It just adds some urgency to the recipe I want to share with you.
Buffalo Chili: No Water Necessary
1 pkg ground buffalo (thank you, Wegman’s)
An onion, chopped
some garlic, chopped
some red and green bell pepper, chopped
1 can kidney beans, rinsed and drained
a couple chipotles in adobo sauce, chopped
1 beer, dark (I added about half a beer to the recipe)
1 cup chicken broth
1 can crushed tomatoes
salt
pepper
cumin
chili powder
olive oil
Heat onions and garlic in oil for one minute. Add buffalo – cook until browned. Add peppers – cook briefly.
Throw in everything else, seasoning to taste. Cook on low until sauce is your desired consistency.
Easy enough. Who needs water, anyway? But washing dishes without good old H20? That’s another story. Luckily,
7:20 p.m. Water returns.

It’s a sobering moment when you realize that no matter how extreme your sauté, how crazy your roasting, and how freaky your flambé, you will never be as hardcore as PEOPLE WHO COOK WITH AN ACTIVE VOLCANO.
As the undisputed bungi jump, sky dive, and parasail of all cooking methods, it’s probably understandable that Volcano Cookery has not yet made it to DC. First off, it helps to be Maori, on New Zealand’s North Island. The thermal activity comes off the Pacific Plate (the same plate we’re hoping claims California before ‘fusion sushi’ invades the rest of the country). This leaves us with some really steamy ground.
Method 1: A flaming pit. Dig a pit. For us wusses without hot dirt, filling it with hot volcanic stones will do. Then line it with cabbage or watercress, put your sweet potatoes in, cover it with mutton cloth (?) and flax (??) and shovel the dirt back over. In three hours you’ll have yourself some earthy barbeque.
Method 2: Boiling mud. No really. All this volcanic activity should have left pools of it, along with geysers, bubbling mineral water, and all kinds of other hot wet stuff. Find a closely woven basket for your sweet potatoes, tie a string to it, and throw the whole thing into the crater for ‘the time it takes to sing three songs’.
Method 3: A stove. Peel and grate three large sweet potatoes. Mix with 1 cup of sugar and lightly press it into a shallow, greased baking dish. Bake the whole thing for 1 hour at 350 degrees, let it cool, slice, and serve with cream.
Your choice.

On my last trip to the Asian supermarket, I bought a big bag of tofu cut to look like fettuccini. I had no real plan of what to do with them, but they looked funny so I bought them. The other night, when it came time to cook, I decided to expand on this idea, and make an Italian-style tofu dish.
Here’s what I had: