Puffy Fireworks

Do I know how to celebrate the Fourth of July or what? See that plate of raspberry puff pastry turnovers? That's what I did today. And then I ate two of 'em, and all the crust scraps that I'd sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. And then I took the pictures before I went completely nuts and ate all the evidence. Because it IS puff pastry.

Yeah. Puff pastry. Light and buttery and built of nothing but tender flakes and air and unicorn magic. Okay, I know it's terribly rich and not one of the ten healthiest things you can eat but you have to let it all hang out once in awhile. Especially when it comes to pastry. Listen, puff pastry is to ordinary pastry what champagne is to Annie Greensprings wine. Trust me on this. And this is especially true when you stumble across a really easy recipe.

I already had an easy puff pastry recipe but thanks to our friends at King Arthur Flour, I now have a super-easy version. You can go here for the recipe (you can choose to read the measurements by volume or weight) for Raspberry Puff Turnovers but be sure to click on their link at the beginning of the article and go to the blog called Baker's Banter. On that page you'll find a really terrific photo tutorial that takes you step-by-step through the whole process -- with options for mixing the dough with a food processor or by hand. I noticed the hand version made use of the Danish dough whisk. She didn't mention it by name but one of the photos shows part of the business end and I know KAF sells 'em. Besides, I had already pulled out my own rug beater to do the job.

I really don't know how a recipe that simple can turn out to be so abundant in flakes. Just look at those tender layers! They just go on forever.

Yes, I know . . . there is a certain amount of filling ooze going on. My fault entirely. You're only supposed to put about a teaspoon of filling on each pastry square and I kept getting just that silly little bit more. Heck, I had stuff oozing out of the durned thangs before I even got them on the cookie sheet. It doesn't turn out to be a big problem. You don't lose much and the dribbles thicken up rapidly when you put the turnovers on the rack to cool.

Not having any of the large-crystal sugar that they used at KAF, I didn't bother putting any on the turnovers before shoving them in the oven -- although I did brush on the egg wash. Then I sprinkled a cinnamon-sugar mixture on them after they cooled. I guess you can see a little of that in the above photo. Which is not as sharp as it should be but sometimes I don't seem to hold the camera as steady as other times. But that's okay. You get the idea.

Speaking of ideas -- I was thinking how terrific these turnovers would be in a savory version. Can you imagine a filling of some kind of salmon or shrimp spread? With maybe some tasty cheese included? And some coarse crystal kosher salt on top? Oh dear. Somebody talk me down. I simply cannot allow myself another dose of puff pastry too soon. One needs to space royal treats out in a more stately fashion, pace the bliss, so to speak. I'm pretty sure that's in the fine print somewhere.

The Great Sushi Throwdown

There we go, Coffee Mates. This was the scene on my dining table this afternoon -- which didn't do a lot for the lighting, I'm sorry to say. Too bright in some spots and too dark in others. (sigh) Just so you know, starting from the upper right, we have sliced avocado (dipped in lemon water so it wouldn't turn brown), strips of cucumber, strips of ham and, huddled in the shadows, a pile of coarsely chopped pineapple. Laying in front of that neat array is the first sheet of nori, rough side up, shiny side down.

Out of camera range is the bowl of sushi rice, waiting to make its stage entrance. I should have taken a picture of it because it turned out perfectly. The dressing was also excellent -- a mixture of vinegar, lime juice, sugar and salt, sprinkled over the rice and carefully folded in until each plump little grain was coated.

I said to Self, "Self, this bodes well. You can't hardly go wrong when the rice is right."

Self said, "Yay-uh," and smiled.

When I had finished slicing all the fillings and laying them out in my very best cooking show style (eat your heart out, Emeril), I said to Self, "Self, it just keeps getting better. You can't hardly go wrong when all your stuff slices up so neatly."

Self said, "Yay-uh," and licked her lips.

Then I flexed my fingers and dipped my hand in the bowl of lemon water so the rice wouldn't stick to me. Scooped up what looked to be a reasonable blob and carefully laid it on the nori, evening up the sides and using the side of my hand to make a little ditch down the middle. Put some ham strips in the center of the ditch, carefully placed an avocado slice on the right side, some pineapple chunks on the left side and a cucumber stick down the middle. Dried my hand on the towl and pulled the lower corner of the nori over its filling. Kept rolling -- gently but firmly until the whole thing was wrapped up like an ice cream cone.

Sort of. Some grains of rice and one chunk of pineapple fell out of the open end and the end that was supposed to be pointy . . . wasn't. It just sort of hung there, taunting me.

I said to Self, "Well, that was just a practice one. I'm getting the feel for it now. The next one will be better.

Self said, "Uhhhhmmmm," and raised one eyebrow.

Laid out another nori sheet and went through the same routine again, this time paying extra special attention to the angle of the roll. Some more rice and another chunk of pineapple fell out. The pointy end . . . wasn't.

After the third try with the same unfortunate result, this is what I had lined up on the platter I'd been planning to fill with neatly shaped sushi cones (see below).

I said to Self, "Self, why are we doing this?

Self said, "It seemed like a good idea at the time?" She was shaking her head and staring at the pathetic cones as though she were viewing corpses that had been prepared by a drunken undertaker.

I looked at all the rice still in the bowl. Then I looked at all the carefully sliced filling that was still artfully arrayed in front of me. There was a blessed moment of epiphany. I said to Self, "Self, there is more than one way to mix and mingle!"

Self said, "Say what?"

But I wasn't listening. I was furiously chopping up all those lovely slices and tossing them into the bowl with the rice. And tossing all those chunks and grains of rice together in a gorgeous bowlful of nummy-nummies.

I said to Self, "Self, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned Sushi Salad."

Self said, "Shazaam!" (Emeril is always saying "Bam!" but Self is into the magic stuff.)

That's how it all ended. The three pitiful sushi cones are covered with plastic wrap and waiting in the refrigerator to satisfy my midnight snack compulsion. I've enjoyed -- thoroughly -- a bowl of the sushi salad and put the rest of it in the fridge for tomorrow. Just to validate the whole thing, I went online and did some Google action. Guess what? Sushi in a bowl -- what I call sushi salad -- is enjoyed by millions. Okay, maybe thousands. Hundreds?

Whatever. The point is, there must be a lot of other people out there who like to cut to the chase, too. They even crumble some of the nori into the salad so they don't miss out on that. Besides which, the salad form allows room for a lot more magical ingredients to be added. You can't go wrong when you can add ingredients to your tummy's content.