The Best Ex's: Biscuits and Shortcake

For the third season of Home Made Simple, I've been asked to do a little ingredient Twister with my recipes. I've been asked to design the recipes so that one will evolve into the next. Simply reheating leftovers would be a cheat; we're talking about a a clever evolution of ingredients that two recipes share in common. A classic example is Sunday's roast becoming Tuesday's Shepherd Pie.

In a parallel universe, when thinking of leftovers, I can't help but think of my ex-boyfriends. Like food, I've enjoyed them, savored them, and then had to tear myself away from the table when another spoonful might make me ill. Then they sit in my fridge, a person I've come to know well, just growing old and losing flavor.

What to do? I can't reheat an old steakhouse T-bone, cooked to a perfect rare-med-rare, that's blasphemy. But one can always turn the steak into a killer steak salad, with blue cheese and candied walnuts, some grilled cherry tomatoes and purple onion rings. And even my dog can enjoy an occasional visit with the ex, while she's munching on that T-bone.

So you can imagine my delight, while hard at work in my Chicago rental kitchen, when I received a call from one of my very favorite ex's, saying that he'd be in town for a Yankees/Sox game. Oh joy! I haven't seen this particular paramour for a few years; I was thrilled to reconnect, and spent at least 45 minutes finding a just-threw-it-together outfit.

We met after the Yankees game, in a bar, with 20 of his closest work colleagues. I knew many of these folks from the old times. My ex works in construction, mostly city contract work, and his colleagues were straight out of old New York. Mostly Irish and Italian middle aged men, some older, alongside their 25-year old sons who were "learning the bidness" from pops. The leftovers of Dad's business would be feeding Juniors family.

My ex, as always, had charisma to spare. But the beauty of the leftover is that there are no longer any unanswered questions. I didn't wonder what it would be like to kiss this guy, date this guy, or what he'd be like in a relationship. I know the ins and outs of his apartment, what he likes to have in the fridge, and his doormen's names.

I'm glad to have been in that relationship, and glad to be done. Like the recipes I'm working on, I have no interest in eating the same food again. But this ex can be turned into something else (besides a leftover that harangues me as it ages in the fridge). I'm proud of what he's accomplished in the last few years, and he's proud of me; we're eager to help each other in any way he can. In fact, at one point during the evening, he connected me to a friend of a friends' friend, an agent who reps everyone's favorite Triscuit muncher. The phone calls were made, and contacts persued.

You can have a leftover that grows old and funky that needs to be thrown away. Or you can have an ex that you reshape into something more delicious than the first meal. Since the relationship can only get better in another form (let's face it, it's over), then why not try turning the base ingredient, caring about each other, into something else that's tastier.


Fresh Biscuits to Shortcake
We all know that buttermilk biscuits are best straight out of the oven, and second best reheated out of the oven. But there's only so many biscuits a person can eat; why not repurpose these puppies for shortcake? What could be simpler than layering strawberries and whipped cream upon and already perfect breakfast side. You tell me which one you like more.


Buttermilk Biscuits
Makes about 12 2-inch biscuits

2 cups AP flour, plus more for work surface
1 1/2 teapoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoons salt
1 1/4 sticks unsalted butter, very cold and cut into pieces, plus more for serving
1 cup buttermilk
Honey, for serving

1. Preheat oven to 425°. In a food processor, pulse together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add butter, and pulse until the largest pieces are the size of peas. Place flour mixture in large bowl.
2. Add buttermilk, and stir just until mixture comes together; the batter will be sticky. Transfer to lightly floured work surface; use floured fingers to pat dough to 1-inch thickness. Use a 2-inch round biscuit cutter or cookie cutter to cut biscuits as close together as possible to minimize scraps. Gather scraps together once, pat together and flatten, and cut out.
3. Transfer biscuits to baking sheet; bake until lightly browned, 16 to 18 minutes. Remove from oven; cool in pan on a wire rack. Serve warm with butter and honey.


Strawberry Shortcake
Serves 6

2 cups strawberries ('tis the season!), sliced
1-2 teaspoons sugar, as needed
2 teaspoons fresh mint, or 1 teaspoon fresh tarragon

6 buttermilk biscuits
1 cup whipping cream, whipped

1. Place strawberries in a medium bowl. Taste one for sweetness; if needed, add sugar. Add mint or tarragon, and stir. Let sit at leat 1 hour, or refrigerated for up to 2 days.

2. Heat the biscuits in a 200F oven for 10 minutes. Slice open widthwise. Divide strawberries among biscuit bottoms, and top with whipped cream. Cover shortcakes with top, and garnish with additional strawberries, as desired. Serve and enjoy.

A Surprise Indeed: Marinated Tomatoes

Last weekend, I did an extreme overnight trip to North Carolina (one of those trips where the travel takes longer than the visit). But it was for a very good reason: my Mom's birthday.

You see, now that our family is distributed among three cities and two sets of holidays, it's very hard for us to all find reason and time to get together. My brother, his wife and son were visiting, and since everyone was there, I thought I'd do a surprise trip.

I called my Dad to let him know I'd be arriving about 10 minutes prior to entry. The secret was kept, and mom was thrilled, right down to the point where she needed a beat or two to recognize me (what we aren't looking for we often don't see...). We all enjoyed the surprise.

And my timing was especially perfect, because that night was a dinner party! My favorite. We'd be eating at the big dining room table, and the kitchen counter and refrigerator were already brimming over with items mom had prepared in advance. There would be dad's ribs, with his special rub and specialer mop sauce, tomato salad, strawberry shortcake, and if I knew my parents, a cocktail hour that would generously linger past an hour, complete with all sorts of delicious nibblies, that on other nights would constitute dinner.

I went to the fridge to help mom a bit...perhaps I'd whip the cream for the shortcake in advance. No cream. And, I gasped, some intruder has put non-fat Land-o-Lakes faux cream in the fridge. "Mom! Someone put weird fake cream in the fridge! COME QUICK!"

"Oh honey, I didn't know you were coming. That's actually my cream."

I gave her a Scooby Doo head tilt. I was processing. Could my Mom actually be the kind of person who eats, nay, PURCHASES fake cream?

Let's try this again. "Then is Judy bringing over the cream for the shortcakes?"

"No, honey." A look of grave concern and guilt. I remember this look. This was the there-isn't-a-tooth-fairy look. And with one swift motion she opened a secret panel in the refrigerator door and produced: Cool Whip.

There was really nothing left to say. My Mom, was the daugher of a man who pioneered the organic movement in the 40s and 50s; a man who always had fresh fruits and vegetables that he had grown himself, even while living 10 stories high in a condominium in Florida; this man had birthed a woman who allowed Cool Whip and non-fat cream in her house, and she had birthed me. At least they say it skips a generation.

I was afraid to open any other doors for fear that more food atrocities might be revealed. I mean, this put so many things into doubt. Was my dad really my dad? Does this mean I won't get pregnant from sitting on a toilet seat? Where would this end?

It ended with the delicious Marinated Tomato Salad my mom served with dinner. Delicious in a I-hope-she-didn't-put-MSG-in-that way. Deliciuos in a please-don't-tell-me-there-are-dried-onions-in-that way. Delicious in the way that I still get weak thinking about pre-packaged rice with the little flavor packets.

I asked mom if there was anything special in it; I was afraid there was something foreign to me that rendered this particular salad cosmic. I could barely finish chewing before asking the question; it was THAT good.

"Oh this? It's Kay's recipe from our local cookbook," says mom, smirking.

"Really? Have you ever made it before?" I asked.

"Sure did! In fact, last time I made it, I made it just for you when you came down to visit. Before you put a fork in, you asked to see the recipe. Then you refused to eat it because it had too much 'weird stuff'', yes I think that was in your fresh-herbs-only phase. I'm so glad you're giving new things a chance."

So along with my MSG, I ate a little crow. I asked Mom for that tomato salad recipe, and here it is. Complete with a byline, admissions of mistakes, and a Glad testimonial.

MARINATED TOMATOES
From the "Tea to Greens Cookbook" compiled by Lockwood Folly Women's Club and contributed by Kay Teagardner ( a friend and fellow bridge player).

4 large tomatoes, cut into wedges
1/3 cup olive oil
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 tsp. parsley flakes (I think I used 2 tbsp. the night you were here, oh well)
1 tsp. chopped onions (I use scallions)
1 tsp. Italian seasoning
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. garlic salt
1/4 tsp. coarse ground pepper

Arrange tomato slices in a shallow container. Combine remaining ingredients; mix well and pour over tomatoes. Cover and marinate in refrigerator several hours or overnight. Yields 8 servings.

(I sometimes serve these over a bed of lettuce, or sometimes all by themselves. I don't use a shallow bowl to marinate. I use a Glad container that seals well and I can turn over and over during the marination.)