The Capers Caper

I, Nobody'sGirl, do solemnly swear to buy capers.

I sealed my fate. And I have suffered the consequences.

I will give you a little background. I live in Canada. In a very tiny little community. It’s actually classified as a ‘village’. Less than a thousand people reside in its boundaries. As such, there is one store. It is small. At times, I am thankful for that - other times, like today, not so much.

I happened to be trolling the Recipe Exchange on Allrecipes today, and asked its residents for a little help with dinner. I ended up with a reply from Avon (among many other great suggestions) to make her mothers Brik recipe (which I have made and blogged about before).

The last few times I have made them, it has been without capers. No more! I swore to Avon I would buy them, and I set out to do just that.

I searched the grocery store top to bottom, but could not find capers. Bolstered by seeing a clerk helping a man find a list of seemingly obscure ingredients, I stepped up to a register.

‘Hey. I was looking around, but I can’t seem to find any capers. Do you know if you have any?’

The clerk looks a little confused, but friendly enough. ‘Ah, capers? What are those?’

I hesitate. Part of me argues that even if I tell her what they are, she wouldn’t know what they are. Another part insists, ‘Well, she ASKED’.

My feet shuffle. ‘They’re uhn… pickled berries of a Nasturtium flower.’

‘They’re WHAT?’

I admit I went a little into panic mode after this. My inner foodie had been exposed and, worse, questioned. This could only end badly.

‘They’re like… little pickled things…’

‘They’re for pickling?’ I can see her relax. There is a LARGE pickling section.

‘No! They’re uhm…’ My brain struggles to find the words. The words I need to convey to a clerk that has never heard of caper bushes, Nasturtium flowers, or pickled berries what exactly I want. Nay, NEED!

And then, it comes to me. What’s left of my dignity whispers, ‘No.. no, don’t do it…’

The foodie in me shouts, ‘WE MUST HAVE THEM!’

I squirm uncomfortably. I am holding up the line. At least 3 of the less-than-a-thousand people in the town are looking at me. I blurt…

‘They look like little pickled green bunny-turds!’

I think I see the clerk recoil. I hear a pained scream as what remains of my dignity dies.

There is quiet. I don’t even hear the normally steady ‘beep boop’ of items being scanned. Time. Has. Stopped. Iwantmymommy.

Finally, the clerk, making one last ditch effort to help the crazy lady at her register, asks, ‘Are they in a little bottle?’

A glimmer of hope! ‘Y-yes! A little bottle, about this big…’ I have resorted to sign language. I am trying to sculpt the exact dimensions of the elusive caper bottle in the air beside the debit machine.

‘No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about…’

‘… oh. Okay. Well. Uhn. Thank you.’ I look around furtively. Other patrons politely pretend not to have heard the whole, horrifying exchange. ‘For your help! Thanks!’ I edge toward the door, clutching my purse like a shield.

If I were filthy rich, I might be considered eccentric. As it stands, I’m just the local weirdo that eats bunny-turds.



'Nobody puts Bunny in the corner.'

I'm sorry. I watched Dirty Dancing about 232346 times in high school.

I don't get out much... but when I do... !

Hi, I'm Nobody.

And today my brother and I took a day-trip into Fredericton, NB.

Behold...




... cute little city hall building.




Equally cute little tourist.

(aka one Nobody'sGirl, trying to take a picture of a bird on the roof and thinking about that one time in college when protesters dumped dishsoap in the fountain out front...)

I had nothing to do with that, officer. I was home baking cookies. Honest!

*peer*




I certainly miss downtown Fredericton. Old brick buildings, narrow alleyways with wrought iron gates...




And big false-fronts.

(Shhhh, you gutter-minded folk.)

I meant on the buildings!

The place also has a lot of character. The first store we stepped into was an used book store that has a personality all its own. There are hand-written signs up all around the store, from funny quotes to cheeky directions...




Reprinted for the squinting-impaired:

MAP OF UPSTAIRS
(NOT TO SCALE, I'M A HELOT NOT AN ARCHITECT)

THIS MAP IS BASED PURELY ON MEMORY, HEARSAY, RUMOURS, AND SPECULATION. IF THERE ARE MISTAKES, DEAL WITH THEM, THEN MOVE ON WITH YOUR LIFE.

THE SELF HELP BOOKS ARE STRATEGICALLY PLACED BEHIND YOU IF YOU NEED HELP WITH ACCEPTANCE, STRESS RELIEVERS, OR ANGER MANAGEMENT.

(And considering the dozens of twisty, winding halls and tiny rooms in the building, I don't doubt a single word.)




We also found a little art-store slash...




... candy store?

Genius, really. I can't think of a better combination than acrylic paint and giant pixie stix.

(Except maybe fountains and dishsoap.)





They had lots of old-fashioned-y-type candy.

(I have no idea what these are except 'before my time'.)




I do recognize these candy sticks!

(Apparently the Root Beer flavour is really, REALLY popular.)




But this. This made me stop.

I immediately thought of a certain ARer...




Eat your heart out, DebB. >:D

After lining my purse with candy, I hit the streets, following a delicious smell that turned out to be coming from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the block.




We both ordered gyros, and they were awwwesome.

They had tzatziki sauce made with greek yogurt so it's ridiculously thick and creamy and buttery and awesome...

Pita Pit: It is your friend.




There was also a home decorating store with samurai sword umbrellas...

The less said about those, the better.



I hope all you little pigeons out there in AR-land and beyond have a lovely valentine's day.

I'll be busy stuffing my face with candy and chocolate for the next day or so. Once the sugar-high wears off, I'll be back with more cooking/baking/butter-spilling/and possibly nut-things.

Take care. <3

Skillet Apple Brownies a la Evin

Hi, I'm Nobody.

And this.



This is Evin. (And baby Marian and Pioneer Woman!) That Ree girl keeps some good company. Just sayin'.

So. The other day, as I was roaming listlessly around the Recipe Exchange here on AR, I made a very open recipe request.

'WHAT SHOULD I COOK' I demanded of the sweet and kind ladies that normally reside there.

This was the response from Evin's personal recipes.




Invigorated, I grabbed my skillet!

And threw it into my shamefully crusty oven at 350 degrees.

(I'm sorry I used 'crusty' to describe my oven.)

(I'm sorry my oven is 'crusty'. :<)




Next you need a mixing bowl.

Bonus points if it has a kitschy mushroom motif.




To the bowl, add 1 cup of flour...




And a half cup each of brown and white sugar.




1/4 tsp of salt.

Mental note: Do not pour salt over bowl. Very hard to separate extra salt from white sugar and flour.




Now come the spices! Two teaspoons of cinnamon!




And nutmeg!

These are nutmeg berries that I found at a bulk food store. And they were so weird and shrivelled and weird that I bought them without even knowing exactly what they were.

(I live dangerously like that.)




But as it turns out, you grate these little suckers...




But if you aren't that industrious (or risque!)...

Or if weird little veins inside of shrivelled nut-things freak you out...




This is the perfect solution.

The solution to a food blogger that uses 'crusty', 'shrivelled', and 'nut-things'?

Still working on that.




Moving on...

Add 1 teaspoon nutmeg and 1/2 teaspoon of ground cloves, and give the dry ingredients a quick little stir.




Now grab yourself (teehee) some apples.

I had three slightly worse for wear mcintosh apples.




I only had to peel and chop two of them to get about 2 cups.

You take these and...




Ahem. Excuse me, but you're in the shot.

Could you scooch over just a tad?

Thx.




... add to your dry mixture and toss to coat!




Now you'll need some nut-things. Non-shrivelled variety, please.

(I ate the broken pieces to make this picture pretty. I'm just that committed to excellence. And food. Omnom.)




I gave these a rough chop (even though the recipe didn't say to), and chucked them into the bowl with the apples.




Now rustle up two eggs!




And crack them into a bowl.




Cracked yolk because I'm a spaz and crushed the egg like the Incredible Hulk: Check.




Give those eggs a whisk.




And fetch thee the butter, wench!

I wish I had someone to yell things like that at.

Because then they'd put the butter in a bowl and melt it.

But since neither of us has a kitchen staff, you'll have to do that part yourself.

Once the butter is melted...




... pour it, and what remains of your dignity, onto the table.




After you've scraped as much butter as possible back into the bowl, add a teaspoon of vanilla.




AIMING VERY, VERY CAREFULLY... pour the wet ingredients in with the apple/dry mixture.




Stir just until combined.

Look at how caramel-y colored and delicious this looks. If you want to just eat it now, I give you permission. Unless raw eggs freak you out. Which they probably don't, since you made it past the shrivelled nut-things...

But if you do decide to cook it first.




Fetch thee the skillet from the oven!

Careful, it's hot. (You'd think this would be a no-brainer, but the scar on my right hand proves otherwise.)

You're gunna want about a tablespoon of butter.




Let that melt and give it a little swirl to distribute it evenly over the skillet.




Then find the nearest teenager and bribe it with the first piece of brownie to pose holding the bowl and looking like he's actually helping by placing the batter in the skillet.

After you take a picture, you might want to confiscate the bowl again (because teenage boys most definitely are not freaked out by raw eggs).




I smoothed this out a little before popping it back into the oven for about 20 minutes.

The recipe states 40 minutes, but my oven is an antique freak of nature that is possibly heated by magma from the earth's core. It's just that old.




And then when you pull it from the oven...




And you see the golden, slightly crispy edges...




And you scramble to the cupboard for a knife so you can cut a piece RIGHT NOW...




I don't know about you...

But I heard Etta James.




Aaaaaaaaaaat laaaaaaast....




My loooooove has come along....




My lonely daaays are over....




And life is liiike a sooong...

You need these brownies in your life. Evin commands it. ETTA JAMES commands it.


Ingredients
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cloves
2 cups apple, diced or chopped fine
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup butter, melted (no substitutions)
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon butter

Directions
Preheat oven to 350. Place 8 or 9 in cast iron skillet in oven to heat.
In a medium bowl, mix flour, sugars, spices and salt.
Add chopped apples and toss to coat. (Add pecans o.o)
Add butter, extract and beaten eggs, stir to combine.
Place reserved butter into hot skillet, swirl around pan to coat.
When butter in pan is melted, add batter and bake 40 minutes.


I'd love to invite you over for some...




But...




They're all gone. :(

-> Awesomest link ever to awesomest apple brownies ever <-