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A contribution from Andrew, using leftover cider from a holiday party.
1 banana
approximately 1 cup frozen peaches
1/2 cup spiced apple cider
2 cups almond milk (1 1/2 cups if you like a really thick smoothie)
Blend all ingredients together in blender until smooth.
Not only are pork pie recipes available in the Harleian manuscripts from 15th century England, there is also a pork pie recipe in the 14th-century collection called Forme of Cury. The last time I tried to recreate a pork-and-fruit pie and described it in this blog, I was going with a 15th-Century source, but the recipe I used most recently from the prior century isn't much different. It's still ground/minced pork inside a crust with fruit and spices, although this one also includes some fowl, as did the first Tarte de Chare recipe I found.
This latest experiment with pork-and-fruit pie was a big hit at the local Society for Creative Anachronism shire's holiday party potluck, where a few of us took the challenge I'd posed to bring pre-1600 food to the party.
Here's the recipe I worked from this time (with special characters replaced with "th" where they appear):
Tartee
Take pork ysode. hewe it and bray it. do thereto ayrenn. Raisouns sugur and powdour of gyngur. powdour douce and smale briddes theramong and white grece, take prunes, safroun & salt, and make a crust in a trape & do ther Fars therin. &bake it wel & serue it forth.
That is, take cooked/boiled pork and grind it, mix in eggs, raisins, sugar and powdered ginger, powder douce (sweet powder, a spice mixture). Add small birds and white grease (fresh fat, not drippings). Take prunes, saffron and salt. Make a crust in a trap (a pie dish) and put the farce (meat mixture) in it. Bake it well and serve it forth.
A co-worker of mine declared yesterday that the only meal he cooks with any consistency is breakfast, "because it's easy."
Yup, he's so right. Breakfast foods are so easy, they are all I have left in me. I have spent a bit more than a month not feeling like cooking anything at home because I've been slowly getting over some major back, hip and leg pain due to a bulging spinal disc. I can make it through work okay now (just constant discomfort, not real serious pain any more), but all the way through this healing process, the last thing I want to do after exhausting myself cooking at work is to come home and stand up for another hour to cook. Thankful every day for having a husband who is a capable cook, so we are still getting consistent hot meals with fresh foods.
But I'm still making breakfast for myself on my day off. Or breakfasts for guests we've had over on several weekends in October and November. French toast, fried eggs on toast, a bit of oatmeal, whatever goes well with coffee or tea and people's moods.
Today's breakfast, eggs over-easy on English muffins and a lettuce salad. Last weekend, Scottish oats cooked into a nice, thick cereal and served with butter and honey.
However, since I have not made any new amazing discoveries in the realm of breakfast, I've been on hiatus from this blog for a long while. Today, I'm back to offer my take on French toast, a long-time breakfast specialty of mine.
French toast
serves two people at least two slices
2 eggs
about 1/3 cup almond milk
4 to 5 slices of day-old bread
one dash of whichever you are in the mood for today: powdered ginger, cinnamon powder, ground nutmeg, ground cardamom, perhaps a combination of two of these
canola oil (add one tablespoon of butter if desired)
maple syrup
Note on breads: ordinary American sliced bread in packages often has a better texture if it is lightly toasted first before frying. The most awesome French toast is with French bread that has gotten too hard to eat by itself. But I don't insist on only the best bread. I'm not picky about whether the bread is white or whole wheat or has raisins or seeds in it.
Coat the bottom of a nonstick pan with canola oil and put on medium heat. Add one tablespoon of butter to pan if desired. Whisk together eggs, milk and spices. Add more milk if the mixture is too thick to soak into bread. Dip pieces of bread into the mixture to fully coat. Fry until golden brown, flip and fry the other side, and serve hot with maple syrup.
If you've been using pancake syrup (which is usually corn syrup with maple flavoring) and have the chance to purchase real maple syrup from maple tree sap, make the switch! Maple syrups from different parts of North America have slight differences in flavor, which is part of the fun. All are less mellow, more maple-y and often thinner than pancake syrup.
Now that the cherry bounce I made in May has had several months to mellow out in the bottles, its character has changed greatly. In June, it was very harsh and pretty tart, especially if I ate one of the cherries that had been steeping in the liquor. Now, it's sweeter and has the full flavor of cherries in it, but it still packs a boozy punch.
In August, I taught a class I called "Early Period Cooking Demo: Recipes for 10th Century England" at an SCA event. I've been trying to push myself this year to create recipes that could be appropriate for my 10th Century Saxon/Norse persona and to practice starting and controlling open fires for cooking.
My desire for the class was to offer 1) a demonstration of the ways in which a fire for cooking is maintained differently from a fire for warming a room, 2) a demonstration of different cooking methods known to people in 10th Century England, 3) recipes that could be appropriate to the time and place I'm portraying, a task complicated by the lack of recipe books for this period, 4) recipes I could reproduce on camping outings to reduce my reliance on modern recipes and foods.
The following recipe is influenced by two things: reading about food
combinations in Ann Hagen's Bible of early English cooking, Anglo-Saxon Food and Drink: Production, Processing, Distribution and Consumption;
and thinking about combinations of foods that would be in season
together for a culture that was restricted in dietary choices by
seasonal availability of foodstuffs. Bacon is a pork product that can be kept a few months in a cool place after the slaughter of a hog, so it's not tied to only one season. Apples, cabbages and fresh herbs are fall foods known to Anglo-Saxons as well as modern Americans. It's possible that my choice of kale for the later two versions of the stew is more authentic than heading cabbages, but I'm not certain the heading cabbages were unknown to 10th Century England.
Pork, Apple and Cabbage Stew
serves 4-6
1/2 pound wood-smoked bacon or other fresh or preserved pork, chopped
lard or bacon drippings or butter, if needed
1 large or 2 small onions, chopped
1 small green cabbage, cored and chopped
1 pound apples, peeled, cored and chopped
2 to 3 sprigs fresh thyme
1 small sprig fresh rosemary, chopped fine or 1/2 tsp dried rosemary leaves
1/2 cup barley, oat groats or wheat berries
chicken broth or water
salt and pepper to taste
Cook bacon in pot until it starts to crisp, or cook other pork in fat until browned. Skim some fat with a spoon if desired. Add onions and cook in fat until translucent. Add cabbage, apples, grain and herbs, then cover with water or broth and bring to a low boil over open flame. Move pot over to cooler area of fire and simmer with pot covered until the grains are tender. Stir occasionally. Add more water/broth if stew starts to become too thick and sticks to bottom of pot. Season with salt and pepper.
On the first cooking attempt, this stew was tasty. The apples were an interesting sweet contrast to the savory bacon and herbs. It was a little watered down because I added probably twice the amount of broth that would be necessary to keep the grains moist. It may have been more flavorful had I left in the bacon drippings, but I spooned them off to use in making a flatbread for the class.
Later at home, I tried out a similar stew to combine leftover bacon from the class, some rice that had been left from a previous meal, and kale from a friend's garden. Kale is a member of the same family of vegetables as green cabbage, so I figured I couldn't go wrong. The herbs are replaced by cumin, one of my favorite spices.
It's been a tough year for corn harvests here in McLean County, but there have been a few ears in our CSA box a couple of times this summer. When it came along with kale and I needed to put together a fast dinner because we were already hungry before going to get the CSA box, I made this quick and hearty dish:
Quick Corn and Kale with Black Beans
serves 3 or 4 as a main dish
could be stretched by serving over rice or quinoa
3 ears fresh sweet corn
olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 or 3 cloves garlic, minced
1 bunch kale (about one pound), de-stemmed and chopped
black beans, one 15 oz can, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 tsp cumin
Spanish sweet smoked paprika to taste
salt and pepper to taste
Shuck the ears of corn as soon as possible after picking or purchase and steam 10 minutes in a couple of inches of water in a covered pot. While corn is cooking, prepare the onion, garlic, beans, kale. Cut corn kernels off the ears when they are cool enough to handle. Saute the onion and garlic in enough olive oil to thinly cover the bottom of your pan. When the onion is getting tender, add the kale and stir until it wilts. Add the beans, corn, cumin and smoked paprika, then pour over chicken stock and simmer until the beans are cooked through, the kale has become tender, and some of the stock has evaporated. Season with salt and pepper and serve.
Spanish smoked paprika is also known as pimentón. It tastes like peppers roasted over a flame right in your mouth. It is typically sold in two varieties, sweet and hot. The sweet one isn't actually sweet at all, it's just smoky and not as chili-spicy as the hot variety.
Some delicious ideas from this month's cooking experiments, but no exact recipes.
1. Eggplant and potato stew with lemon basil
It's backyard berry season again at the home of our friends Susan and Larry, and they kindly let me and Andrew pick to our heart's content in the currant and black raspberry bushes. Currant bushes, having no thorns, are much kinder on the hands than raspberry bushes. The fruit hangs in these adorable little vertical clumps, with the berries on the end of the clump sometimes ripening and getting larger before the others. It's much easier to gauge ripeness of red currants than white currants. White currants seem to be the same color whether they are ripe or not.
Susan informed me that currants have an impressively high natural amount of pectin, so they make very firm jam and can be a great addition to a jam of other fruits that would otherwise need long cooking with lots of sugar and lemon juice or pectin-rich store-bought canning additives to make a good jam. I'm not too familiar with currants, having never cooked with them before, so I wanted a jam that mostly tasted like currants so I'd know if I liked them. With the day's harvest of currants and blackberries,
The sour cherry tree in our backyard is back in its best form this year, yielding an impressive amount of cherries. There are enough for the squirrels to get some dessert-on-the-branch plus we have as many as we can stand to pit for cooking now or freezing for later.
Here's the crop from the first two days of excellent picking, filling four 32-oz yogurt containers:
This weekend at my local SCA shire's event, we had a potluck lunch. I decided to challenge myself a bit by trying recipes and techniques that could have been used in Italy during the 16th Century. Only one recipe was an original from an Italian cookbook, the other two were more based on known ingredients and techniques from the time period.
I wish I had made some arrangements for photography, because I probably looked delightfully goofy standing over this large open-fire grill outside the event all morning, standing in the smoke, wearing my apron over my coat and with a very-not-appropriate-to-period Polartec fleece hat for warmth. The day was quite windy, so starting the fire was difficult and keeping it at a constant temperature was impossible.
The plan: get to the event site to unload the woodpile and start the fire at about 8 a.m., have three items prepared for lunch by 11 or 11:30. Planned items: spit-roasted leg of lamb, blanched asparagus with dressing and herbs, bread baked in a pot in the coals. And if anyone showed up to watch me cook, I intended to ask that person to roll marzipan stuffing to put inside dates for something to do while we chatted.
Considering the setbacks with the fire and the fact that I've never tried to cook over an open fire on a deadline before, I was pleased that my plan worked. It only did because I had an assistant, who turned up without being asked, who could watch the fire while I did a few last-minute preparations or who could deliver plated items while I continued cooking the last item. She also stuffed the majority of the dates.
Spit-roasted leg of lamb
recipe inspired by Buon Appetito, Your Holiness: Secrets of the Papal Table by Mariangela Rinaldo and Mariangela Vicini
four-pound leg of lamb, organic and free-range (mine also happened to be certified halal, which becomes irrelevant when you see the next ingredient)
1/2 pound pork fat (I used a very fatty bacon)
1 Tbsp dried rosemary leaves
5 cloves garlic
salt and pepper
2 cups red wine
Mince the pork fat and cut it together with rosemary and garlic that have been minced. Cut lamb into two nearly-equal pieces. One piece will likely have the bone in it. Make deep incisions on the side of each pieces of meat and stuff with the pork-garlic-rosemary mixture. Meat may need to be tied with kitchen twine so the stuffing does not fall apart while loading it onto the rotisserie spit. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and roast indirectly over hot coals that are still sending up a little bit of flame. Turn occasionally while the lamb roasts at a temperature that is hot enough to cause some sizzling, but not hot enough to quickly burn the lamb. Baste by brushing occasionally with wine.
The leg of lamb was the item that got the most effusive praise from eaters, and it proved to be the most difficult. Lesson one: spit-roasting is to be done with indirect heat, not flames leaping up to the food. On the other hand, having a bit of an overbrowned (okay, blackened) crust did add lots of flavor until I figured out how far away from the flame to place the spit. Lesson two: bring a secondary cooking vessel in case roasted meat needs finishing in a pan or covered pot. So glad I had that cast-iron skillet handy so I could pour in the rest of my wine for basting and just cook off the lamb in pieces in the skillet. The wind was cooling off the lamb leg on the other sides while it cooked on one side over the fire, so the very center never came up to temperature on the spit. If I'd had an extra hour to leave it over the fire, it eventually would have cooked fully, but I didn't have the time to wait. If the fire hadn't been constantly blown around by wind, I think the 2 1/2 hours the lamb roasted on the spit would have been long enough.
I was very excited about the bread for its flavor and texture. It came out of the baking pot with a black bottom, a caramelized-looking top and springy texture. I have learned quite a bit about bread from another shire member, Simon, in the past year or two, plus I have received tips whenever I ask from Laura, who bakes where I work. A bit more practice with baking hasn't hurt me either. Simon got me started with using sourdough starter instead of always relying on packaged yeast. Finding motivation to start sourdough is simple when Simon hands out little packets of dried sourdough starter from his own collection at a class. Sourdough starter is a pre-1600 technique, as is baking in a pot buried in hot coals. To accentuate sour flavor and add a bit of beery yeasty taste that could have come from using ale barm for yeast, I followed the recipe for Almost No-Knead Bread from Cooks Illustrated. That recipe uses beer and vinegar for part of the liquid. Instead of the instant yeast called for in the recipe, I added some of Simon's sourdough starter. The bread dough sits in a bowl at room temperature overnight to develop flavor. The pot I used for baking was not made of the correct materials, being a cast-iron pot instead of the more-likely-for-pre-1600 Italy clay baking pot, but it was the only heavy covered pot I have that I'd be willing to put in a fire. Lesson from this experiment: the bread probably only needs half as much baking time as in the oven at home. I checked it after 45 minutes of the expected hour, but I think I could have gotten away with only 30 minutes of baking time and had less burnt crust to cut off.
The part I know would turn out fine in this experiment even if nothing else did was the asparagus. I found some directions from a Renaissance Italian cook indicating that asparagus should be boiled until just tender, then dressed with oil and vinegar and fresh herbs. Even at my worst with outdoor cooking, I can manage to boil water as long as I have enough fuel. The vegetable was perfectly crisp-tender the way I like it, then I dressed it with a simple red wine vinegar-olive oil vinaigrette (with a dash of sugar), salt, pepper, and chopped fresh parsley. No need for the cold-water shocking after blanching. The air was brisk enough that the asparagus cooled off right quick after I put it on the serving plate. I was pleased to see that the plate of vegetable disappeared just as quickly as my other dishes. I guess the people who like asparagus ate it enthusiastically.
This stew gets its name not because it has oranges in it, but because it is a bright-orange-colored, warm and nutritious resting place for the last bits of ham left over from Easter dinner. Since our balmy spring weather of March this year turned chilly and wetter as April went on, a new soupy dish was exactly what I needed to stay invigorated.
It's the start of the third year of having a yard without chemicals like fertilizer or pesticide (I don't know what the previous owners did, so I'm starting from when we moved in). To celebrate, this year we're eating edible flowers that appear in the yard.
At the special Easter lunch I made for myself and my husband, violets were the stars. They are the first of the edible flowers to show up in the spring. We went out in the morning to pick a bowl of the teeny purple flowers from our backyard.
We've been experimenting this week with a new cheese that I'd only heard of and never tasted, Greek mizithra. I purchased a large chunk of the salty, aged version of this goat cheese on a whim and have found that, overall, I like it better than Andrew does. But, then, I've always been a lover of salty things.
To describe it for those who don't know if they might be interested in trying out this cheese, it's chalk white, a little spongy-looking in appearance, very dry, lower in fat than many other cheeses, with a taste that is similar to feta because it is tangy, but aged mizithra seems much saltier. It does not melt when heated. It is brittle and crumbly instead of sliceable.
Successful applications:
substituting shaved or crumbled mizithra for parmesan on pasta
crumbled on salad, especially good paired with roasted/sauteed red peppers
Questionable uses:
complement to a breakfast with sweet items -- contrast is too great
garnish to crackers spread with ajvar -- overpowers the spread
eating a chunk straight off the cheese -- taste buds overwhelmed by saltiness
Looking forward to trying:
mixing in with a potato dish
garnish for veggie burgers that include some spinach
Once again, preparing my dish at the last minute before a potluck lunch. I had boiled the eggs yesterday, but left it till this morning to peel and fill them. Today's trick: make something that is truly slopped together look like you cared for it.
Step 1: hard-cook a dozen old eggs, then procrastinate about finishing the dish till tomorrow.
My favorite method for hard-cooking: place eggs in a pot, preferably in one layer on the bottom, cover with cold water, put the lid on the pot, bring to full boil on high heat, then immediately turn off the heat and allow the covered pot to sit for 15 minutes. Pour off the hot water and replace with ice water. Peel eggs when cool.
Step 2: peel the eggs.
This should have been done yesterday while the eggs were wet and freshly shocked in the ice water. Because I put the unpeeled eggs in the refrigerator for a day, peeling today was accompanied by considerably higher amounts of frustration with peels/shells sticking to egg white and a few swear words. Some of the whites were a little pocked because parts of the egg white came off with the shell.
During this step, don't forget to worry about whether you'll be done on time because each egg is taking twice as long to peel as you estimated.
Step 3: cut the eggs in half lengthwise and scoop out the yolk into a bowl. Set the whites on a plate.
Don't forget to look worriedly at the clock a few more times.
Step 4: season the egg yolks and moisten with mayonnaise.
Today's easy-peasy 15-second seasoning: grab a quick pinch of parsley leaves from the bag in the refrigerator, slap down on a cutting board and take out your frustration on them by mincing and remincing with a chef's knife, spin the lid off the seasoning salt so quickly it nearly flies off onto the floor and throw a few dashes of salt with the parsley onto the egg yolks. Groan when you realize you have to take a few more seconds to rip open a new jar of mayo when you use up your last tablespoon in the old jar but still need more mayo. Yank open the silverware drawer, grab the first fork you see and quickly mash the yolks together with the mayo, seasoning and parsley.
Step 5: spoon the yolk mixture into the little well in each egg white and arrange on a plate or in a portable food storage container.
Check the clock and continue worrying. Scoop up a couple teaspoons or so of filling and smear it quickly into those egg whites. Try not to be too wistful about missing your chance to try out using a Ziplock baggie as a piping tool. No time for love, Dr. Jones! Eat the egg white that is covered on all sides in messy egg yolk after you drop it onto another filled egg.
Step 6: garnish with powdered paprika.
Wrench the lid off your paprika, rejoice that there is a sprinkle section on the inside lid, and sprinkle away till the paprika starts to distract attention from the lopsided egg yolk fillings. Smack the lid on that portable food storage box and carefully run out the door. Don't let the box tip from side to side! You'll ruin the fillings!
Step 7: proudly deliver the finished dish at the potluck table.
Silently hope no one notices the stray bits of egg yolk mixture on the outsides of the egg whites because the box shifted and tipped while you were getting out of the car with it. Smile when your friend says, "ooh! Deviled eggs! Yum!"
This recipe has been a favorite since I encountered it at a student bar in Bonn, Germany, about 15 years ago. It's warming, sweet and soothing. Start with one coffeecup warmed milk (or soy milk or almond milk). Stir in 1 to 2 teaspoons honey and a shot of rum (light, dark, spiced, doesn't really matter), and a pinch of nutmeg or cinnamon if that's a flavor you like. Sit somewhere comfortable with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders or lap and enjoy the beverage hot.
Read more...The Christmas baking experiment results are in: frozen krumkaker get a little moist upon thawing and the texture is undesirable, but keeping them tightly wrapped or sealed in an airtight container will allow for continued crispiness into early February. I had a chance to taste these leftovers from three days before Christmas at the beginning of this month, and they tasted like they were, at most, two or three days old. Still well-flavored by the cardamom and vanilla, still light and somewhat crunchy. The samples I brought home were gone in about five minutes.
Read more...I made a soup I was proud of on Monday and shared some of it with one of our neighbors to thank him for surprising us by shoveling our driveway on Saturday morning. Let's start with the recipe, so this post does not become anti-climactic.
Split-Pea and Vegetable Soup with Turkey Sausage
serves 6 to 8
1 pound turkey sausage (note, not just ground turkey, and not sausages in casings)
3 carrots, chopped
3 celery ribs, sliced
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cups yellow split peas (actually, in my soup it was channa dal, which are split black chickpeas)
8 cups water
1 tsp dried rosemary leaves
garlic salt, black pepper and paprika to taste
Brown sausage in a few tablespoons of mildly flavored oil. Add in the vegetables and sweat until onions start to look translucent. Add all other ingredients, cover, and bring to a boil. When boiling, turn down the heat and simmer until split peas are tender and at least some are breaking apart when soup is stirred. Eat some, store some in the refrigerator for later, and share some with a friend or neighbor.
Today, our neighbor returned the container in which I'd delivered the soup, with a card attached that read:
There's a Bible story that says Esau sold his birthright for a bowl of soup. If the soup tasted this good, I can understand why.Read more...
For a few years, I've had a found-on-the-Internet recipe called Pumpkin Impossible Pie in my recipe box, waiting for the right time to try it out. I was always a bit curious about Impossible Pie since reading the recipe on the back of the Bisquick box as a kid.
Bisquick Impossible Quiche
Bisquick Impossible Cheeseburger Pie
I may even have eaten one of these before, come to think of it, but I forgot what it was like. My husband met my announcement of the plan for dinner with enthusiasm, declaring he had always liked Impossible Pie when it was served during his childhood.
Being all excited about a crazy new idea for dinner, I didn't follow the recipe exactly and decided to dress it up a bit. When I found the recipe, I was attracted to the idea of a totally vegan, low-fat pie without the hassle of making pie crust on a weeknight. The basics remain the same, but instead of using sugar and pumpkin pie spices, I went for a rosemary-flavored savory pie with caramelized onions and just baked the pie in the skillet I cooked the onions in.
After 60 minutes of baking, the pie had a crust on the outside, was not done at all in the center, and appeared to be underdone on the bottom as well. I used a plate to flip it over so the bottom would be on top and, hopefully, bake more fully.
After 80 minutes of baking and an attempt to remove a piece for eating, here's what it looked like:
For our New Year's Eve party, the most fun part about party preparation was baking our own fortune cookies and filling them with homemade fortunes! Ever since Andrew's grad school roommate and friends made their own fortune cookies for a mathematicians keg party, we've been very attached to the idea of making better fortunes (and possibly better cookies!) than the ones in Chinese restaurants.
I dug out a recipe I've been hanging onto for a few years in anticipation of just such an opportunity: the recipe from Sara Perry in Holiday Baking. The interesting flavoring element is one-and-one-third tablespoons Grand Marnier. Also surprising was finding out that these fortune cookies are pretty low-fat since they are made with just a little oil and just egg whites.
The finished products:
Sorry for the unexpected one-month hiatus, all. This past December was a time of action, not written words. Much baking and cooking took place, but none of it was documented here at the time it was happening.
Some highlights of the Christmas season in my kitchen:
1. Testing out a household favorite, tofu-carrot scramble, on a potluck group. Positive comments from people who liked the gingery taste. The basics of how Andrew and I make this recipe come from the recipe in the Vegetarian Times Complete Cookbook. We just don't measure things anymore and I think I dropped an ingredient or two from the recipe long ago before I taught it to Andrew. I'm still debating on whether I should make this dish at work. Its appearance is not as good as its taste, I'm afraid. It's a bit like chunky yellow-orange vomit on rice. Maybe a nice garnish of chopped cilantro and using julienned carrot instead of grated would make it look more appealing.
2. The 15th-century pie recipe that looked doomed to fail until the moment I put some in my mouth. Another potluck experiment, going from a historical recipe that gave zero amounts or proportions, just a list of what ingredients to add when (and I think even these were out of order, so I adjusted based on the order of instructions in similar recipes from other sources from the same country). This pie was like a savory custard with dried fruit for sweetness. I messed up baking the crust blind (forgot the parchment paper under the pie weights), the crust shrank considerably, the custard took much longer than expected to even start pretending to set, I used far too much beef marrow so the filling looked a bit greasy while baking, I added the spices during the wrong step of the process (no matter, it seems). I couldn't believe how good it tasted after all those mistakes and how ugly it looked. And the crust was the flakiest I've ever made. Gives a whole new understanding of a "foolproof" recipe. However, my version needs some serious revising before putting it out here for others to try.
3. Are krumkaker still good after being frozen? This year's batch of Norwegian Christmas cookies was donated to science. I have also learned that the plural of krumkake is krumkaker. I packed the cookies in a box and gave them to one of the owners of the cafe/kitchen store where I work so she could experiment with how long they are still delicious when wrapped tightly in plastic (she reports the batch from two days before Christmas was still good on New Year's Day) and whether they could maintain crispness after being frozen and thawed. Still waiting on the lab results from the frozen portion of the batch.
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