Caramel Apple Upside Down Noodle Kugel and Part18
December 14, 2012 at 7:04 am | Posted in Dessert, Dinner, Fruit, Giveaway, Holiday, Lunch, Pasta, Puddings/Custards | 45 Comments
Tags: apples, caramel, cottage cheese, Egg Noodles, Hanukkah, noodle kugel, sour cream, upside-down noodle kugel
So, it’s the 7th night of Hanukkah and I’m finally putting a Hanukkah post up. Why so late, you ask? (as if ‘late’ isn’t the norm for me) – because Thursday night was the first Hanukkah dinner we had at home and I didn’t cook or bake anything prior to that.
Yes, I know..Hanukkahis associated with foods fried in oil, such as latkes and sfganiyot (jelly or whatever filling suits your fancy – filled doughnut) to commemorate the miracle of a one-day supply of oil miraculously burning and giving light for eight days. But, obviously we don’t just eat fried foods to celebrate Hanukkah, a misconception a former coworker of mine had for years..resulting in her scolding me for ordering a tuna salad sandwich for lunch several years ago..
“Lisa, give me that sandwich..you’re only supposed toeat fried foods during Hanukkah – get some fries!”
I’m dead serious.
One treat that my family always served during Hanukkah is sweet noodle kugel, also called Lokshen kugel ornoodle pudding. We enjoyed a good noodle kugel several times a year, but for some reason, it seemed the best noodle kugel always came at Hanukkah, the big one in the 13 x 9 pan, loaded with apples and/or raisins.
I don’t like raisins in my noodle kugel, so I was the one with the pile of raisins on the side of my plate..picking them out one by one. annihilating my perfect, little square of kugel.
Lovely visual, huh?
It was usuallyservedalongside abrisketor roasted chicken..the sweet and savory always a treat..like candied sweet potatoes with turkey. Those are two holiday dinner pairings I crave every single year.
Having said all that, there are so many variations for sweet noodle kugel, I wouldn’t even know where to start, so I’ll keep it brief. Some just use eggs as a binder, some use eggs plus pot or cottage cheese, some use eggs plus pot or cottage cheese and sour cream, and some use eggs plus pot or cottage cheese, sour cream AND cream cheese. Some even add a corn flake, brown sugar and butter crumble on top.
Phew!
I don’t know if there’s an ongoing debate about which version is the most authentic, but I always make mine the way my maternal grandma did…with eggs plus cottage cheese and sour cream. Theadditionof fruit and/or nuts and, err..a corn flake crumble topping.. is entirely up to you.
SO, I took my grandma’s recipe and added a pretty amazing twist to it..melted butter, brownsugar and sliced apples on the bottom of the pan, noodles on top – the same method used to make upside-down cakes. The cream in the custard seeps into the butter soaked brown sugar, giving the apples a wonderful caramel/butterscotchflavor.
I’m never making it any other way again, unless someone doesn’t like apples.
Caramel Apple Upside-Down Noodle Kugel
1 pound wide egg noodles
1/2 stick butter, melted
1 1/2 cups cottage cheese
1 1/4 cups sour cream
1/3 cup sugar
5 eggs
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 Granny Smith or cooking/baking apples of your choice, peeled, cored and sliced
1 stick butter, melted
1 cup light brown sugar
DIRECTIONS:
1. Grease the sides of a 13 x 9 baking dish with butter.
2. Boil the noodles in salted water for about 4 minutes. Strain noodles and shake until dry. In a large mixing bowl, combine all the ingredients up to the salt. I use a food processor to make asmooth custard, but mixing it with a spoon or whisk is fine.
3. Pour the custard over the noodles, mix well, and set aside. Preheat your oven to 375 degrees F.
4. Pour the stick of melted butter over the bottom of the baking dish then top with the cup of brown sugar, pressing it down so it soaks up the butter. Arrange the sliced apples on top of the brown sugar.
5. Give the noodles another toss and pour over apples. Distribute them evenly. Cover top of dish with buttered tin foil. Since it’s an upside-down kugel..if you don’t cover it the whole hour, the usual crunchy noodle top, which is traditional.. would be on the bottom and get soggy.
6. Bake until the custard is set, about 1 hour.
7. If you have a platter larger than 13 x 9 inches, flip the noodle kugel on to the platter, as you would an upside down cake. If not, let cool, then cut slices and flip them over on to plates. Tastes great warm or cold.
I’m submitting my noodle kugel to Month;y Mingle, founded by Meeta of What’s For Lunch, Honey?..hosted this month by Simone of Junglefrog Cooking – theme – Christmas/Holiday sweets. The deadline is December 31st, 2012..so lots of time to join in! Click the photo below to read the rules.
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Well..finally Bad Boy First Love, Part 18 is here..and it isn’t the end…it’s the first part of a two part end. You see, when I originally started BBFL, it was only supposed to go to two or three parts, but then something sad happened and I extended it because writing it helped quell my grief immensely. Once the grief subsided, and a friend I hadn’t spoken to in a while said to me..
“LISA..what the hell are you doing? You just aired a very private, precious memory to anyone and everyone! Are you crazy??”
“Ummm..uhhh”
Then he added..
“..PLUS, justthinkof some of the people from your past and present who will be reading it! You’re letting these bad people into a deep, personal moment from your life!”
…and, thehurricane.or super storm, rather….I suddenly had a hard time writing it..I couldn’t get back into that zone.
Well..I finally got back into that zone and I could care less if creeps from my past and/or present read it.
If you’re just tuning in, Part One isHERE, Part Two isHERE, Part Three isHERE, Part Four isHERE, Part Five isHERE, Part Six isHERE, Part Seven isHERE, Part 8 isHERE, Part 9 isHERE, Part Ten isHERE, Part 11 isHERE, Part 12 isHERE, Part 13A isHERE, Part 13B isHERE, Part 14A isHERE, Part 14B isHERE, Part 15 isHERE, Part 16 isHEREand Part 17 is HERE.
He dragged the box across my cheek into my waiting hand, which I’d lifted to my cheek to feel the box. Then I asked the stupid question we all ask with gift in hand, turning it over and over, shaking it..
“What is it?”
Why do we always ask this question with gift in hand? Why on earth would the gifter tell us what it is before we open it?
I still ask this question, while shaking the gift, to this day.
He gave the usual reply to the stupid question..
“Open it and see”
I slowly opened the box. For some strange reason, I wasn’t even thinking ‘ring’ or ‘marriage proposal’.
I opened the box slowly. It was a delicate gold band with a very, very small diamond and two even tinier diamonds on each side of it.
Before I could say anything..he spoke first..
“Look, this isn’t the real ring, I can’t afford that now, but it’s a ring to let you know what my intentions are. We’ll move in together once you finish college, then get married, or get married first..whichever you want”
Boy, he had it all planned out, didn’t he? Did I even have a say? It was the strangest duality of feelings. Part of me was excited since I did want to marry him one day, but the other part of me was scared. I was too young to be saddled with such an assertive, definitive life plan.
Then I remembered what he told me his father said to him the summer before my freshman year of college..
“You can’t expect her not to meet and date others at such a young age, unless you put a ring on her finger”
Was this ring a ‘stay faithful to me’ ring?
It didn’t matter..it wasn’t an official engagement ring, so I told no one. I wore it when I was with him, but when I got back to school, I took it off and pushed into a velvety ring slot in my jewelry box for a long slumber, until I went home again. The last thing I needed was questions…especially from hockey guy, who I’d been seeing on and off….there was a pull between us that just wouldn’t quit.
I knew deep down Dreamboat was probably seeing others...promise ring or not, especially since it was so hard to maintain a long distance relationship, especially due to his disdain of long phone conversations. Short and sweet was best, but not always best for the relationship.
When I came home for Christmas/Winter break, I told him of my plans to head to Florida for Spring Break – a decision made just 2 weeks prior. He wasn’t happy..
“So that means I won’t see you for 5 months”
“No, I can probably come home one or two weekends..”
He interrupted…
“But that’s two days at a clip, sweetheart”
“Yeah, but we have two weeks together now!” I said, choosing to remain positive. I really wanted to experience Spring Break..regardless of how much I loved him.
He hugged me and smiled. We had an amazing Winter break together and like always, my love for him multiplied. The ‘home me’ was a starry-eyed 15-year old girl again. I was always a starry-eyed young girl with him – once the ‘college me’ wore off after being in his presence for a few minutes. I always tried SO hard to hold onto that burgeoning adulthood, but it was nearly impossible.
Beforeleavingfor Spring Break…me and a good friend from home, who also went to Northeastern and who I was going to Florida with, drove home for the weekend to get our bathing suits and summer clothes. Naturally, I couldn’t wait to see Dreamboat. As soon as I got home I called him and he said he was on his way.
He sounded a little weird. I blew it off…I seemed to blow off a lot of things at that time in my life.
I dove into his arms, like I always did, as soon as I got into the car. Sitting, standing, it did not matter, there was always a way to dive. He hugged me back tight..burying his face in my hair, inhaling..like he always did, but something still felt off. I blew it off again…no need to think, just breathing him in and being in his arms was all I needed.
I was so immersed in the hug..I barely heard his voice. He broke the hug and repeated himself..
“Let’s go somewhere and talk..ok?”
I smiled..yeah, talk..we’ll be kissing, without coming up for air, for quite some time before we talk, I thought to myself.
While he drove..I chattedanimatedlyabout my winter classes, which I knew I aced, depending on one last essay for a class I chose to fill mycurriculumthat semester, dealing with teaching autistic children. I loved it so much and planned on finishing the essay that weekend. My professor said I could drop it off in her office mailbox in case we didn’t make it back before she left for home that coming Monday before we left for the airport.
I went on and on about thisincredibleclass..and then on and onabout how much I was looking forward to seeing what this ‘Spring Break’ was all about. I was still in ‘college Lisa’ mode’..full-throttle. I felt so mature and intellectual as I rambled on and I couldn’t let go of ‘her’, not even asking where we were going as he drove, not even asking about him.
He pulled into a lookout in Alpine..a place I’d shown him my senior year in HS, where we’d park once in a while and kiss..talk..kiss..talk, when in my area. It was our usual ‘we want to be alone’ activity since we couldn’t be alone at either of our homes.
“Come on, let’s take a walk” he said..grabbing my hand when I got out of the car. We walked half way down an embankment to a small wall, overlooking the glittery lights of northern valley NJ. He straddled the wall..and I did the same facing him. He picked up my left hand, but didn’t bring it to his lips as I expected.
“You’re not wearing the ring” he said, lifting my ring finger, then letting go abruptly.. like it was a slimy, rotted carrot.
Oh, sh*t…the ring was 200 miles away, nestled in the velvet slot in my jewelry box. Howcould I forget it??
I started rattling off excuses like a married man caught with his pants down in a brothel.
“I worked out at the school gym before I left..I..I.. always take off myjewelryto work out. I was running late when C came to get me..just out of the shower, and I forgot to put it back on!”
He interrupted..and in a very monotone voice said the words I’d always dreaded hearing from him.
“Lisa” Uh oh..no, sweetheart or baby.
“…I think we should take a break”
I heard myself ask “Why?”, but didn’t feel it leave my lips.
“Because this is too hard for me…” he paused for a moment and ran his fingers through his shiny hair – then cracked his knuckles. He was a ace knuckle cracker, he never missed a knuckle, I always thought he would probably end up with bulging, deformed knuckles one day. Oh, please make him just mad at me, not end it forever.
Nope..that wasn’t the case. He continued on..
“…I can never get in touch with you..and when you do call me, you’re just… I dunno, different”
Then the whammy.
“Look..I can’t really date anyone because of the guilt and my feelings for you, no matter what kind of ‘agreement’ we have, but you can – it’s obvious, and that says a lot. I wasn’t sure I could do this, but once I saw that you weren’t wearing the ring….” his voice suddenly softened..
“…I knew for sure it was time for a break.”
I just stared at him. I didn’t know what to say. As I kept replaying his words in my head..trying to jumble them into something that wasn’t a breakup (A break? A break is short..it’s not forever, right?), my heart sunk like a souffle at a Stomp revival. This was for real – he was ending ‘us’..but it still hadn’t sunk in completely. I thought I could change his mind, or so I convinced myself.
I started to shiver. It was mildly chilly, but not enough to produce a shiver like that. This was a devatastion/shock shiver. He rubbed my arms with his warm hands..look..he’s touching me affectionately..it’s NOT over!
“Come on..let’s go back to the car, you’re cold” he said softly..taking my hand in his. A Ha..more BF-GF physical contact, there’s still a chance I can change his mind, right?
We got into the car and I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. My mouth was full of sawdust and my tongue had morphed into a thick, woollysock . I was parched from thesuddennessof it all. His love always saturated me..and now I was drying up like a piece of driftwood washed ashore and beneath a hot sun for days. Somehow, I managed to choke out;
“I need something to drink.”
He opened a bottle of cold beer for me. I don’t like the taste of the beer, but at that moment.. with one sip, it was the best thing I’d ever tasted in my life. I was so dehydrated..I could feel the cold path it took to my stomach, like a liquid serpent.
He couldn’t believe the way I was guzzling the beer…his eyes wide, a huge, incredulous smile breaking across his face That hurt even more because that was a look he always gave me when I said something inappropriate or did something kooky or off the wall…a look that said he loved it.
“WOW, look at you!” he exclaimed, as if nothing happened and it was just like any other night we spent together before this nightmare.
When i was fully hydrated and could speak properly, I reached deep into my imagined super intellect and went to work.
“Baby, we’re apart for such long periods of time..isn’t that enough of a break? Why can’t we still see each other when I come home..it doesn’t have to be this drastic..unless you already met someone…”
“NO, I haven’t met someone, it’s not about dating someone else…”
Bullsh*t, I thought
“….it’s about not being able to deal with missing you and feeling like you don’t care when you’re up at school. I need to do this for myself.”
“But, I do miss you” I uttered weakly, but I knew he could see a bit of insincerityin my eyes – two crystal clear windows to every emotion that ever comes over me. Remember, I HAD tosort of forget about him to ease the pain of missing him. Apparently, he couldn’t do the same, but, he wasn’t constantly around peers..socializing, partying and just enjoying college life..and err,,hockey players.
A sharp stab of guilt made me cringe at the latter. Then I did the worst thing I could do in this situation.. I went allpsychoanalyticalon his ass – for 3 hours. I explained, in detail mind you..the virtues of not breaking up..using references from books and classes like Sociology. I couldn’t drop the ‘academic’ facade, making matters worse..and worst of all, I couldn’t cry.
I knew he needed to see someemotion, but no matter how hard I tried to jackhammer through a cement wall of protection I put up, it remained solid..not even a pinhole. It wasn’t was budging, and neither was he.
“I think I better get you home” he said coldly
Nooooo..this night can’t end because once it does..it will be the end of us forever, I thought, in a panic
As a last-ditch effort, I resorted to what none of us ever want to resort to;
I begged.
“Please don’t do this, baby..I love you..I need you” Cry dammit!
Why couldn’t I cry? What was wrong with me? I was feeling the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life, but the tears weren’t coming. It was like my tear ducts had shriveled up into raisins and I’d never taste a salty gusher again. I could see it in his eyes as he stared into mine..icy, blue steel, but there was no doubt he was almost willing me to cry. He needed to see my mushy inner core, which is usually front and center; to make even the slightest dent in his wall, but it was as if a cement truck pulled up and poured another load on my wall.
Although there was no guarantee, I could feel it. No tears = No Dreamboat.
Ileanedin to kiss him. another last-ditch effort….but he stiffened up when our lips met. Now I knew it was really over. I let him take me home, not saying a word thewhole drive.
When he pulled up to myhouse, he tried to give me a hug. I pulled away and got out of the car. He waited until I got to my door..
Please make him change his mind and come running to me, Iprayed, as I took the longest walk of my life. Iwantedto hear his car door open and slam shut, quick footsteps, then feel himgrabme from behind and tell me he loved me and made a mistake.
When I got to the door..I heard the soft rumble of his engine as he pulled away.
I couldn’t stay home..I didn’t want to be alone. I wentinsideand grabbed the keys to the car. I droveaimlesslyfor a few minutes, not sure of where I was going, but then found myself taking the familiar route to my blonde friend’s house..the one who Dreamboat’s friend and brother had a crush on..the one who l spent two wondrous summers down the shore with..my best friend at that time.
It was after 2 am, so I threw pennies at her bedroom window. She opened it..clearly annoyed.
“What are you doing, Lisa? You scared the crap out of me!”
I could barely get the words out, but somehow she heard enough because she shut the window and came running down before I could say it in full..
“Dreamboat broke up…”
She opened door..
“…with me” then the tears came. They crashed down on my cheeks like a tidal wave and once it started it didn’t stop. My nose was running within seconds. I was sobbing as she pulled me into her house and hugged me – long, hard sobs that that actually hurt my chest. I could barely breathe in between each sob. I soaked the shoulder of her t-shirt, but she held on until I was steady enough to walk over to the couch with her.
Where were these tears when I needed them??, I thought angrily. My emotions had betrayed me completely.
I finally calmed down enough to tell her everything. She was such a good friend, she listened and soothed me..then made me what had become our favorite late-nightpig-outwhenever I was home from school. Pasta with melted butter, ricotta and black pepper.
I couldn’t eat a thing, but she made me taste one spoonful…pushing it against my mouth..making me laugh. Her blue eyes beamed.
“Good, huh? Eff him, Lisa..seriously – you’ve got so many opportunities up at school and you’re going to Florida Monday!”
Somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better..but Ipretendedit did. I spent the night..well the rest of the morning, at her house…sleeping until almost 1 pm. When I woke..it all came flooding back..and I nearly threw up, but then it was as if the rain clouds of the breakup parted and a ray of sunshine poked through the fissure..hitting me like a sharp laser beam.
“Eff him” I said out loud to no one in particular.
I suddenly felt stronger and couldn’t wait to get back to school and head to Florida for Spring Break.
I was going to get through this – I had to.
I spent the rest of that weekend with my friends, trying to forget, trying not to cry. I was relieved when Monday morning came and we headed back to Boston. I hadn’t finished my paper for the class on teachingautisticchildren..so I scribbled it out the last two hours of the drive.
I couldn’t help thinking if he hadn’tbrokenup with me, I would have gotten this paper done at home and it would have been amazing. Blaming him helped dull the pain..the anger was like a warm, tear-proof, blanket. I dropped it off in my professor’s office mailbox, then ran home to pack. Our flight was at 5 pm.
I’ll spare you all the gory details, but, I had one of the best ‘crazy youth’ times of my life that Spring Break. I got really drunk for the time without feeling nauseous or throwing up. I even heard myself slur for the first time, and ironically, it was when me and my friend stumbled out of one of the clubs on the strip and fell at the same time..laughing hysterically. A few guys came over tohelpus up.
The one holding out his hand to me looked like Dreamboat..they could have been brothers. I felt pain for a moment…then in my first and last ever slur, I said..
“You look liiiiikkkke my exsh-boyfriend..go away, itsh over”
That made me and my friend laugh even harder. We were utterly pathetic and disgusting, but hey, it was fun in the moment.
I also hooked up with a good friend from school..o good friend who looked like me, or I looked like him..whichever. People on campus always thought we were brother and sister. I chalked it up to kissing myself..a moment of narcissism, but greatly regretted it when we got back to school and he wanted a relationship. I rode the relationship coaster with him for a little over a week, but then broke down crying one night when we were hanging out..telling him I was still in love with Dreamboat and I was not ready for a new relationship. I told him the truth.
Sadly, our friendship was never the same after that.
To add insult to injury, two weeks back from Spring Break, I found out the friend I went to Florida with hooked up with hockey guy one night. I wasn’t seeing him at the time, so he could be with whoever he wanted,and to be fair,he didn’t know she was my friend from home. When we started college, we ventured out and made lots of new friends, but had started hanging out together again sporadically (butsheknew Idatedhim on and off), so I really had no reason to not date him. BUT, somehow, that put an ick factor on dating him again. I tried, but whenever I was with him, all I could think of was the two of them humping in a drunken stupor..and it skeeved me.
I tried dating other guys….this was college, it was kind of unavoidable. Except for a brief relationship with a sweet guy named Sean, who used to eat frozen pizza frozenand who I had to end it with because my roommate had a crush on him (that’s a whole other story in itself, with lots of drama), there was no one that gave me the butterflies like Dreamboat did.
The pain I’d sealed off was now seeping through the cracks. It started to come back in small waves, usually when I was doing something totally unrelated to anything that would remind me of him. Washing dishes…suddenly my stomach would sink and my eyes would well up. Washing my hair, tears…brushing my teeth..quiet sobs. I’d immediately shove it back into the cracks and slather it with putty, but the putty started to crack and wear away, especially once I found out I needed to go home one weekend for a family thing.
The thought of being back in North Jersey without him made me sick to my stomach. SO, I called him….
Part 19 – the real end.. coming next week..not in almost three months – I promise!
The winner of the Peapod Gift Card is Dorothy Hubbard! If there is no response to my email within two days, I’ll be randomly choosing another winner. Congratulations, Dorothy!
I’d like to extend my prayers and condolences to the families of the shooting victims at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT. I’m completely sickened, shocked andheartbrokenover this.
