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Thanks for visiting Sauce du Jour. Feel free to share a great recipe, leave a comment, or make me dinner. I'll bring hors d' oeuvres and the wine! To visit my website go to Thanks for visiting the Sauce ~Tammi

Sep 21, 2012

Pink Velvet Perjury

This is the follow-up to last weeks unfair-prosecution-without-a-jury-trial post.

Paisley and the Prosecutor
I did have a restraining order against me stating that I wasn't allowed to bake Paisley a "birthday cake," but then I got off on a technicality.  So, while I'm officially on probation I decided to make her a birthday "PIE". 
    After my near execution for conspiring (for the second time) to bake a baby a booze laced birthday cake, I've redeemed myself and for the moment I'm out of Grandma Jail. It's not for good behavior mind you, but because I'm fully cooperating and part of my plea bargain was to make a kid-friendly birthday dinner.
    The old prosecutor ordered up pulled pork, so I took the liberty of adding killer coleslaw and jalapeno potato salad. Our friend Karen, brought kid friendly mac and cheese and I withheld the Kahlua cake and dug out my mom's old recipe for Pink Velvet Pie!   


Although I hadn't ever made it before, Pink Velvet Pie holds sentimental memories for me. It's the only dessert that my mother used to make that seemed hoity-toity.  I mean, it was not apple or cherry pie, nor oatmeal cookies, and back in the day it seemed so fancy!  It's airy and silky and pretty and really pink. I only recall my mother making it when ladies wearing something other than caps and muck boots were coming over, which was not very often. Back in the day this was not a man's dessert. It would never have stood up to Carharts or camo so we never had it during brandings or hunting season, and it's safe to say that I never saw its remnants clinging to a mustache.

But hey, this is decades later. Guys are touchy-feely and tough enough to wear pink. Momma's want to limit their babies alcohol intake and grandma's on parole want to get back in their prosecutors good graces. So I did what I had to do....I broke out the dope, so to speak. Call it the next happy meal.

Here's the weird thing about Pink Velvet Pie ~ there is Jell-o in the recipe.  I know, I'm as shocked as you are! Who knew that Jell-o was actually an ingredient? I thought it was just a vehicle for Jell-o shooters. But no....I'm here to tell you that you can make "baby birthday pies" with this powder. My mother's recipe was old and the writing faint, but I think it said "stir in the Everclear," or maybe it was "stir until almost clear." At any rate I went with number one because it is Jell-o and obviously you have to add some Everclear, which is, I think, the necessary ingredient for Jell-o to set up.
     What? It's not? The hell? Oh. Rut-roh. My bad. Can we change the subject?

Sooooooo.........there may have been one other small birthday faux paus...I have been known to recycle shopping bags and I admit I did put some of Paisley's gifts in said recycled bags. The Prosecutor bypassed the "Coach" and the "Guess" bags and zeroed in on the pink bag that said "Victoria's Secret." The following conversation went like this:

    PROSECUTOR:  "Mom, I can't believe you are using an old Victoria's Secret bag for Paisely's birthday present.
     ME:  What's it matter? She can't read.
     PROSECUTOR:  Oh just wait. About twenty years from now she'll looking at her baby book and see that she got a Victoria's Secret gift bag on her second birthday. She'll be like, WHAT THE F...?
     ME:  Just tell her it was from me. She'll understand and it will all make sense.
     PROSECUTOR:  Why do I have a buzz going on?  Did you put something in that Pink Velvet Pie?
     ME:  Do I get one phone call?

Paisley LOVED the Pink Velvet pie! The proof is in the pudding, (read; pictures) above. Go to the "Desserts" tab at the top of this page for the recipe.  Then go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass go.

Paze, with her great grandpa and grandma...aka, my one phone call.


Sep 14, 2012

The Jury Is In ~ I'm Still Guilty As Charged

Paisley, lovin' that cake batter!

Twenty-five years ago nobody was busting my chops over this, but now...honey let me tell you...times they have a changed. 
    For starters, don't even think about baking your little darlin a booze laced birthday cake let alone let them have a little red beer for breakfast.  And God forbid don't get caught slipping them a baby Ambien.  I'm here to tell you, shit WILL hit the fan. 
     Along with The Big Guy, Paisley is the love of my life, and in just a few days she will turn two.  I offered to make her a birthday cake but her mother turned me down, likely because she is still holding a grudge about that whole Kahlua Cheesecake thing on HER 2nd birthday.  
     This is that story.  I'm re-posting it ~ because one, I find it to be hilarious even though Paisley's mom, who IS currently speaking to me, does not.  And two, I think it's some of my best work. 
     Read this and tell me that you haven't had the same conversation with your adult daughter. You have, you know you have. Haven't you?

Paisley’s mom (who I will refer to as “The Prosecutor,” in this piece) was grilling me like she was suspicious about whether or not I was her biological mother.
     “How old was I when I rolled over? What was my first word? At what age did I crawl? What about when I got my first tooth?"
The Prosecutor and my next victim - circa 2011
     Ok, here’s the truth: I don’t remember what size pants I wear without looking at the tag and suddenly I’m supposed to remember little details from twenty-three years go. Not happening—I think I may have slept since then. 
     “Just go get your baby book and look in there,” I told her, “I’m sure I wrote it all down.”  All was going well as we looked back over that first year. Milestones were duly noted, snippets of hair displayed and the tooth chart was appropriately numbered in order, complete with date.
     Then we came to the page marked 1st  Birthday.  Smiling baby…check. Cake…check. One candle, party hat and presents…check, check and check.  I’m sure my Mother of the Year award was just out of camera range. So far, so good.
     Then we flipped the page to her 2nd Birthday.
     “What the hell is that?” The Prosecutor demanded, pointing at a photo. I leaned in to take a closer look and to read what I had so thoughtfully written, which said something about the fact that I had baked her a Kahlua cheesecake and that we had had a…ahem, “private party” (read; no guests).  Court was now in session.
     “You baked me a Kahlua cheesecake?” The Prosecutor said, like it was a crime.
     “What’s wrong with that?” I asked her, "Kahlua cheesecake is good."
     “I was two Mom,” she snarled, pointing the peace sign at me like she was picking me out of a lineup. “Why would you bake a two year old a cake with booze in it?”
     “Hey, it’s not like it had rat poison in it,” I said. “And at least I put your picture in the book,” I pointed out, dodging her question which was shaped like a bullet. She leaned in and upon closer examination of Exhibit A noticed that there was only about two-thirds of a Kahlua cheesecake with two mismatched candles, which caused her to cross examine me even further.
     “And look at that cake, where is the rest of it?  It looks like some cake that was baked a few days before and then at the last minute had a couple of candles stuck in it,” she said, accusing me of the unthinkable. 
The Prosecutor and her Kahlua Cheesecake on her 2nd Birthday
(Notice the missing chunk?)
    “Well you look happy and you are smiling,” I pointed out.
     “You forgot my birthday didn’t you?" she said, demanding the truth. “And where are my friends and my party hat?” The Prosecutor asked, cross-examining me.   
     “You didn’t have any friends and I’m pretty sure the cake wasn’t leftover. I think we cut it before we took the picture,” I said, perjuring myself even further.
      “Aha! You forgot my birthday and you fed me a leftover Kahlua cheesecake," she said, like Child Protective Services should have been notified.
      "Oh my God, it wasn’t like it was your first one,” I said, before I had thought to plead the 5th. "And give me a break—it was a Kahlua cheesecake not a vodka cheesecake," I said in a last ditch attempt to save my aforementioned Mother of the Year award.
      She wasn't buying it.  She demanded to know what kind of cake I had made for her 3rd birthday.
    "I don’t remember," I told her, "probably Baileys."  I heard the gavel fall as she rested her case.
     Jeez, never mind that I had managed to number all her teeth on the dental chart or that I had her immunizations up to the minute.  Noooo, bake a baby a Kahlua cheesecake and you could wind up in the electric chair.
     "Let me make it up to you," I said, "I’ll make Paisley her 1st Birthday cake."
     "You do and I'm seeking the death penalty," The Prosecutor said.
The Prosecutor on her 2nd Birthday.
Do you think she looks happy, or is just me?
Of course I am posting the recipe for Kahlua cheesecake (which by the way came from her Aunt Valli more than 20 years ago.) which is the one pictured above. If you decide to make it for your kids/grandkids birthday have an alibi and an attorney ready.  Go to the "Desserts" tab at the top of this page to view it.

Sep 6, 2012

How To Win A Free Puppy

Want to win a free puppy?  Awww c'mon, you know you do. Keep reading...I'll tell you how.

A while back I told you I was hooked on Valbreso feta cheese. I first discovered it at Costco and apparently so did everyone else who buys in bulk, because shortly thereafter they quit carrying it. Now I have to buy it from Amazon and the shipping is a killer. The stuff is addictive and I'm pretty sure I'll have some serious withdrawal symptoms, like a hissy fit, if I go cold turkey, so I just main line it to get my fix everyday ~ one bite at a time.

You know how most feta cheeses are somewhat dry? Not this baby.  It's creamy, with a melt-in-your-mouth texture and it has just the right amount of saltiness.
     Usually I just stand in front of the refrigerator about three times a day with the door open, fork in my hand and eat it right out of the can. Some days when I'm feeling especially patient, like twenty-five minutes worth of  patience, I whip up this "Baked Feta" dish and it is da bomb!

It goes like this: 

►     Preheat your oven to 350 and get out your cute little ceramic baker or All Clad mini gratin pan.
►     Cut the feta into chunks, about 1" x 2" or so and then drizzle some olive oil over it.
►     Throw in slices of garlic and then top it with some shaved red onion, capers, diced tomatoes, fresh oregano, and salt and pepper.
►     Drizzle a dab more olive oil over, cover it with foil and bake for about 20 minutes and serve with some baguette slices.

It comes out of the oven all warm and soft but is still firm enough that it holds its shape. Put a little slice on a piece of bread and just try not to smile. You can't. Your welcome.
     Oh yeah, don't forget to sop up the juices that are left in the bottom of the baker.
So, if anyone knows of a source for this goodness within about a 200 mile radius of Podunk let me know. I'll send you a free puppy.

You can also find the the recipe on the "Appetizer" page, so if you want to make it later it will be easier to find. Let me know what you think.