7. Pork Potato Apple Bake

Dear Reader,

How did it get to be August already?  Damn.  (Actually, as we’re writing this, it’s pretty much September by now).  We’ve run out of excuses.   We’re doing our best to get these Betty Crocker recipes in once a month, but it’s just not happening.  So obviously we missed July (and are about to miss August, too), but we applaud you in your patience.  We’ve got a couple of recipes coming up in rapid succession here, which hopefully will make you happy and keep you busy reading until we get our shit together.

As always, we remain:

“Yours in Crockering,”

Emily and Mike

Opening Remarks.

Since this is the first Betty Crocker breakfast that we’ve made (technically this belongs in the “Family Breakfast Brighteners” section), we have decided to challenge our culinary skills by getting up super early and attempting to put this breakfast together before work on a Monday.  We’re interested to see if this recipe really is better in the morning.

Another small note, there is a second pork breakfast listed on this recipe card involving Canadian bacon and pineapple.  For the sake of our health, we decided to focus on only the Pork-Apple Potato Bake recipe.  Get over it.

Making It.

Emily: First off,  it’s hard to type.  My lips aren’t working or my feet.  Also my fingers.  Mike is fine - he’s a morning person and he is making coffee.  Thank the good lord for coffee.

(A few minutes go by)

He is now packing lunch for the day.  What the fuck???

Mike:  Whatever.

Emily:  A note on the ingredients:  We bought them last night.  There was no prep involved. 

(At this point, typing has become too difficult for Emily - things don’t work well for her when she’s tired – so Mike officially takes over much of the rest of the documentation while Emily concentrates on the actual making.)

Mike: The recipe calls for, among other things, “pork luncheon meat,” “vaccum-packed canned sweet potatoes,” and “dark corn syrup.”  There were a number of “pork luncheon meats” from which to choose at the grocery store, but we decided to go with Low Sodium Spam, because deviled ham is not sliceable.  Emily has never had Spam before, and was EXTREMELY reluctant to purchase it.  I had to insist that it would not kill her.

Emily:  Actually I’ve had Spam before.  In your mothers ham and pickle finger sandwiches she makes for showers and parties.  I haven’t ever cooked Spam before or opened a can and touched it. 

 

Mike: As for the other two ingredients, we couldn’t find “canned sweet potatoes,” but did find “canned yams.”  Again, I was the one who (correctly) insisted that they were the same thing, but Emily wasn’t so sure.  This is one of those rare times when I actually won an argument about anything, and so the yams were bought.  This morning Emily actually read the can for the first time and realized that they were the same thing.

(The cats seem very interested in the Low Sodium Spam.) 

Emily: Can cats eat Spam?

Mike: I wouldn’t.

Emily: You’d have US eat this and not the cats?

(She cuts up a LOT of the spam and sets it down on the floor for the cats.  They’re not so interested after all.)

Mike: Re: the dark corn syrup.  Emily INSISTED that we had it, even though she never looked in the cupboard.  (Here were my exact words in reply: “Are you sure it’s dark corn syrup?”  Emily: “Yes.”)

Guess what?  We only had LIGHT corn syrup after all.  I say the hell w/ it, and we use that.  Emily has this to say about the corn syrup: “Holy shit that’s a lot of corn syrup”)

 A note on the tone of this posting:

While technically higher functioning in the morning, Mike also tends to be a grumpy bastard.  So if you notice a decidedly anti-Emily bent to this month’s posting, that is why.  Rest assured, we still like each other during much of the rest of each day.

Mike:  Finally, the apples.  The recipe calls for a jar of spiced crab apples.  Which, naturally, are quite impossible to find.  In fact, we couldn’t find a jar of any apples, so we picked up a bag of dried apples. 

Emily: I asked my mom if she ever remembers cooking with spiced crab apples, and she said they used to be popular around the holidays, but that she hasn’t seen them for 25 years or something like that.

Mike: Upon purchasing the dried apples, Emily announces that we’ll just re-hydrate them, as if she’s a scientist.  No plan is then given for how this will take place, even though I ask her for one.  We’re now halfway through the recipe and the apples still have not been “re-hydrated.”  I don’t think it’s gonna happen, folks.

Emily notices that the can of spam says it’s good until December of 2010.  Emily says that everyone’s freaking out because the date of our wedding (she’s obsessed w/ wedding planning right now) isn’t until 2 years off.  Well, the Spam doesn’t care.

Emily: The making of this recipe is pretty straightforward.  It’s just layers of stuff.  But very odd layers.

Mike: Also: crunchy peanut butter.  Emily is not pleased.  I am.  Emily has this to say: “At least we’re getting rid of it.”  Apparently just having it around the house makes her upset.

At a few minutes past 6 Emily realizes that she hasn’t been halving any of the recipe (except for the Spam).  Just minutes after announcing that the recipe is very straightforward (only layers, etc.), she follows up w/ this: “This isn’t easy to do.  Don’t let anyone ever tell you that mixing peanut butter and corn syrup is easy.”  I’m never waking her up before 7am again, ever.

Evidence: “This is a dish I got from my mom’s from that old lady.  It’s kind of perfect.” (I have no idea what she’s talking about)

 Emily: We needed to adjust the ratios - like the sweet potatoes and the Spam were off and so we took some away and used less sauce.

The melted butter instantly re-congealed on top of the cold orange juice.

(The coffee has finished brewing)

Emily:  Yes!  Coffee!

Emily: We decide that the “crabapple” rings look like the thing in the Spiderwick Chronicles that lets you see faries and stuff.  We need to rig up some glasses to be 100% dork.

We just watched that movie last night.

Mike: This isn’t how it went down at ALL.  Emily puts one of those dried apples up to my eye and I go “it’s like in the Spiderwick Chronicles.”  Which, again, we saw LAST NIGHT.  Emily then replies that I’m “such a dork she loves it” and starts typing away.

Mike: Alright Mr. Wizard, how are we going to re-hydrate these apples? 

Emily: Why are you calling me Mr. Wizard again?”

Mike: Check out this gem from Emily (Em-gem?): “We halved the recipe.  Do you think we also need to halve the time?  Probably not, right?”

Whilst the pork-potato thing is baking, we tuck into some coffee and biscotti.  We’ve started referring to biscotti in this way: bis-COAT-ee (really slowly and deliberately, and in a terrible faux Italian accent).  We were in NH the other week looking at a possible site for our wedding, and I asked a local where I could get a good cup of coffee.  The woman pointed me in the right direction, and then said “They also make some really good bis-COAT-ee.”  Keep in mind that she only pulled out the terrible Italian accent for “biscotti.”  Emily and I wanted to try to coax other Italian words, like ‘veranda’ or ‘cappuccino,’ out of her to see if she said all Italian words in this way.

While the dish is in the oven, I mention how badly we fucked up the apple situation.  This is what Emily has to say: “We used to have a crabapple tree in my friend’s yard growing up.  We never ate them.  They attracted bees.”   She falls asleep at the kitchen table shortly thereafter.

A few minutes later, when Emily is awake again  we look up online where to buy spiced crabapples in a jar, and find a forum where people discuss where to buy them. 

Mike: Apparently some people (German people) used to have them on their table at holiday time.  Emily has convinced herself that jarred crabapples are extinct, like the woolly mammoth.

With about 5 mins to go, the apples on top are totally burning.  Not good.

5 minutes go by.

Eating It.

Mike: We take the pork breakfast out of the oven, and compare how Betty’s picture looks way better than our burnt monstrosity.  I start to ask a question, but Emily cuts me off by farting really loudly.  She then says “I have to go to the bathroom,” and leaves the kitchen.  When she re-emerges a few minutes later, she announces that she has had “a great idea.”  But it has to do with wedding vows, and not anything about Betty Crocker.  She then says “It’s a good thing I just shitted out my entire intestines so I can eat this.”

Emily has asked me to write the following disclaimer: “Please put a disclaimer that I’m not stupid.”  She then looks at the pork breakfast on her plate and says “Mine has a weird tendril on it.  Do you see?  I think maybe it’s part of the sweet potato.”

Another disclaimer: Emily really is not stupid, or disgusting, or anything.  She’s really funny when she’s tired, though.

Emily: Mike puts some on his plate first.  Because even though I’m apparently stupid, I can still beat his ass at rock-paper-scissors consistently.  Here’s what he has to say: It smells nutty.  And burnt and Crispy.  He takes a corner segment.  He’s having a hard time cutting the apples. He attempts to just eat apple.  I correct him, and he take a bite of everything.

Mike: This is really interesting because none of the flavors have mixed.  I can taste them all separately.  It’s like in a band how all the instruments go together to compliment each other.  This – nothing compliments anything.  It’s all just sitting on top of each other.  I can taste the Spam.   And the peanut butter.  And the burnt.  And the apple.  This apple situation is disgusting.

Emily:  Mike then goes in for another bite and hurts his tooth.  He says “You’re gonna hate it.” but keeps eating.  Then: “Ah…there’s the sweet potato.  That doesn’t go so badly with the sweet potato.  Probably should have left the extra sweet potato in.”  He shakes his head, and says: “It’s not good.” (Note: he’s still eating) “ I don’t know if Spam was the right thing to do.  It’s hard to tell.”  (Another bite.  He starts reading the recipe card.)

I ask: “Would you like it for breakfast?

He says: “No I think the Canadian style bacon with pineapple would be better.  This is not good.  I think we did a terrible job this morning.  (He's eaten the entire thing.)  It’s your turn.  I’m sick.

Mike: Emily’s turn: She tries to take a bite, but can’t cut the burnt apple.  She then refers to a weird hair she has on her plate.  She smells it, then shakes her head and takes a bite.  Sour face, followed up by sad face.  She shakes her head.  Wipes the corner of her mouth.

She says: “Can we talk about texture?  The apple is really, really leathery, and that doesn’t go well w/ the peanut butter, which is crunchy.  And then the Spam is just like…foamy.  Like salty foam.  I didn’t taste the potatoes at all.  I’m not sure they would’ve made it better, though.  I don’t think anything would make this better.  I don’t think real jarred crabapples would make this better, because they’d be juicy, round and big, and throw the whole ratio off.  I don’t like crunchy peanut butter.”

She pushes her plate aside and says “No thank you.”  She then turns on me and snaps – “I can’t believe you ate that whole thing.”  I say I was hungry, and she says  “I don’t like it.”

Closing Remarks:

Now, we’re the first to admit that while we’re both extremely creative people, we don’t work well together on creative projects. In fact, ask any of our friends what it’s like to be in the room with us while we are collaborating on a random project and they will look you dead in the eye and say, “Run.  Run Away. TRUST us.” 

The beauty of this blog is that we get to test this theory at least once a month in new and exciting ways.  As you can see, this installment failed miserably on many different levels.

We clearly weren’t at our best this time with regards to the following skills:

Ingredient Finding

Typing

Measuring

Baking

Talking

Friendliness

Controlling Bodily functions

Rock-Paper-Scissor execution (just one of us)

But, we both agree that Betty was also not at the top of her game when devising this breakfast recipe.  In fact, she failed pretty miserably with this one on many fronts- ingredients, flavor, and appearance to name just a few.

So, in the end, everyone was a loser.  And it’s ok.  Sometimes you just have to just accept it and move on. 

We’re actually pretty excited to move on…far far away from the land of Spam, vacuum-packed sweet potatoes, and jarred crabapples.  It’s just not a happy place.  No, seriously, look at me.  Run.  Run Away.  TRUST us.