Candy List Time! I'm channeling my 8-yr-old self here, circa the late 70s..and please, chime in with your best/worst. We didn't have a lot of candy in my house growing up, so Halloween was pretty much the only time we got to ditch the Tiger's Milk and acerola (mmm, rose hip jelly coated in carob! you try trading THAT for a Devil Dog!)bars for what the rest of the kid world was eating. Even then, though, I had strong opinions. Thus...
Best Halloween Candy:
1. Nestle's Chunky. These were just cool: a big silver-wrapped chunk o' chocolate studded with raisins and peanuts. A mass-market mendiant, and really good if you like the chocolate-with-stuff-in-it genre.
2. Hershey's Special Dark minis. The ONLY chance of getting straight-up dark chocolate on Halloween. I loved these madly even as a kid and would swap anything for them. Even now, when I could go buy my own Green & Black and Scharffenberger extra-darks, if someone leaves an office candybowl full of minis near me, I will mock-casually fish through them while picking out and hording ALL the Special Darks for my own nefarious purposes.
3.Goldenberg Peanut Chews. An East Coast thing, originally made by a family company in Philadelphia. Dark(!!) chocolate coating around molasses-based chewy stuff and peanuts. Not too sweet, really good. These are still around in name, but are made by the Just Born Co. (of Peeps fame) now.
4. Junior Mints. Rattling the little boxes was fun. Plus there always seemed to be one last, slightly melted, minty chocolate button in there when you needed it.
5. Mr. Goodbar. Much lower on the worthwhile-mini scale than Special Darks, but they remind me of one summer when I found a copy of 70s-scandal paperback Looking for Mr. Goodbar in our rented Nantucket cottage. This led to my 10 or 11 year old self asking my sisters what a four-letter word starting with "c" and rhyming with "bunt" meant. In the middle of the ice cream parlor on Main Street. Ah, good times.
6. Nestle Crunch. Mmmm, crunchy. Rice Krispies good.
7. Dots. Hard little dome-shaped gumdrops that were fun to shake in the box. Plus, I discovered one day that my mom liked to steal these from our stash and put them in her yogurt. She was extremely embarrassed about this when I caught her at it.
8. Wacky Packs! Yep, it was the 70s...No, not candy, but these were so cool (and designed, I later found out, by the likes of anti-establishment types like Art Spiegelman) that they made up for the lack of sugar. Every parent thought these were gross, which added much to the appeal. Even as an all-girl crew, my sisters and I loved these.
Worst
1. Candy Corn. Hardened earwax masquerading as cuteness, in a dead heat with:
2. Circus Peanuts. The heinous spawn of styrofoam and St. Joseph's baby aspirin.
3. Box o' raisins. Nice try, health Mom. No wonder no one likes your kids.
4. Candy apples. Just one of the many aspects of childhood that I found trying. Not that I really remember anyone handing these out. I just hate them.
5. Butterfingers. Blech. What's with that weirdass orange (but not orange-flavored) stuff in there (see circus peanuts, above)? Yes, I know everyone else loooves them. That's more Special Darks for me, kiddos.
6. Mary Janes, Sugar Daddys, all other hard, tasteless but achingly sweet toffees on a stick. Callard & Bowser these are not.
7. Candy buttons (on paper). And the point of these would be?
8. Mounds and Almond Joys. Because I have always loathed coconut. Their only use was as trading material, or for scraping the dark chocolate off with my teeth, stopping the minute the vile white shreds appeared.
9. Hershey bars. They taste like RUBBER, people! Rubber with dirt, too much sugar, and sour milk! Not so horrible with almonds, but overall, way too ubiquitous for being such a crap product.
10. A rock. Because, you know, you're going to be spending many nickels on psychiatry if all you get is a rock.
Friday, October 31, 2008
BaaaaTULA!!!
Booo! I love Halloween. This might have something to do with having a late-October birthday; for my whole life, I've associated black cats, pumpkins, skeletons, and autumn leaves with good things coming my way. Then there's that once-a-year smell of a freshly knifed-open jack o' lantern, sitting fat and orange on a kitchen table covered with newspaper, and the slippery squish of the seeds and pumpkin-guts between your fingers as you pull them out.
Kids come in handy here, if you happen to have any around; let those deft little hands go to work separating the seeds from their clingy, slimy web of strings. It's a satisfyingly messy and purposeful job, and will keep them involved but away from the initial big-knife job of carving the lid and hacking out the big, toothy grin.
Once the seeds are separated, give them a rinse in a colander and spread them out on a cookie sheet to dry. Rub them with a light vegetable oil, sprinkle with salt (and regular or smoked paprika, pure chile powder, or cayenne, depending on your tastes), and roast in the oven at 350 F, stirring occasionally, until dry and crunchy. I find these completely addictive, and a crucial coda to the whole pumpkin-carving process.
But, back to Halloween. Since the holiday falls on a Friday, you can really make the whole weekend into a spooky celebration, ending with Sunday's Day of the Dead events around town. And goddess knows, if there's one thing San Franciscans like better than getting naked in public, it's dressing up. Many, many drag virgins will be discovering what it feels like to balance 150 lbs+ on two 4-inch spikes the size of your thumb. Just as many others, especially those from the warmer climes of the South & East Bays, will be realizing that SF gets really, really cold at night, especially when you're wearing nothing but glasses, a spandex flag bikini and a "Miss Alaska" banner. Come midnight, you gonna wish you knew how to field-dress a moose, or at least turn a stuffed polar bear into a coat, PETA be damned.
So, what you wear tonight and tomorrow is up to you (me? Joan Holloway, girdle, gold pencil, and all) but you can start out the day in the right way. What do women want? If you were me last year, it was the Batula, a spatula in the shape of a bat, and an orange and black spiderweb apron. (Both gifts were that rare and fabulous thing, items I'd never considered but that instantly spoke to my deepest desires for world batulation. Plus, you can use the Batula to spank anyone that comes between you and your pancakes.)
This weekend, it's spider and skull-shaped pancakes for everyone in the house. And while the shapes may be spooky, the pancakes themselves are both wholesome and really tasty. You could use grated winter squash or pumpkin in these if you want to really stick to the theme, but carrots are easier. Enjoy!
Spooky Autumn Pancakes
1 cup whole-wheat flour
1 tbsp wheat germ
2 tbsp rolled oats
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon or pumpkin/apple pie spice (a very handy combo of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice, sold already mixed)
1 cup buttermilk
1 egg
1 tbsp vegetable oil, such as canola, or melted butter
1 tbsp maple syrup* or honey
1/3 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
1 large raw carrot, grated
Butter for cooking pancakes
In a large bowl, sift or whisk dry ingredients together. In a separate bowl, beat buttermilk, egg, oil, and maple syrup together. Stir (don't beat!) wet ingredients into dry, adding a couple tbsp of water if mixture seems too thick. (It should be fairly thick and pillowy--enough so you can spoon it out rather than pour it). Gently stir in nuts and carrots. Set aside.
Over medium heat, heat a wide skillet or griddle. When a drop of water will sizzle and skitter over the surface, add a slim pat of butter and swirl to coat the surface. Turn down the heat to medium-low and add batter. Flip once bubbles begin to form and pop and edges look glazed. Cook another minute or two until well-browned on bottom. Repeat as needed. Serve with warm maple syrup and butter. Boooo! Serves 3 to 4, more or less.
*Yankee that I am, I feel strongly that ONLY real maple syrup is worth eating. "Table syrup" is just corn syrup and artificial flavorings, and does nothing but skyrocket your blood sugar and make the whole kitchen stink like IHOP. Look for the deep, mellow Grade B syrup sold at Trader Joe's and in bulk at Rainbow Grocery.
Kids come in handy here, if you happen to have any around; let those deft little hands go to work separating the seeds from their clingy, slimy web of strings. It's a satisfyingly messy and purposeful job, and will keep them involved but away from the initial big-knife job of carving the lid and hacking out the big, toothy grin.
Once the seeds are separated, give them a rinse in a colander and spread them out on a cookie sheet to dry. Rub them with a light vegetable oil, sprinkle with salt (and regular or smoked paprika, pure chile powder, or cayenne, depending on your tastes), and roast in the oven at 350 F, stirring occasionally, until dry and crunchy. I find these completely addictive, and a crucial coda to the whole pumpkin-carving process.
But, back to Halloween. Since the holiday falls on a Friday, you can really make the whole weekend into a spooky celebration, ending with Sunday's Day of the Dead events around town. And goddess knows, if there's one thing San Franciscans like better than getting naked in public, it's dressing up. Many, many drag virgins will be discovering what it feels like to balance 150 lbs+ on two 4-inch spikes the size of your thumb. Just as many others, especially those from the warmer climes of the South & East Bays, will be realizing that SF gets really, really cold at night, especially when you're wearing nothing but glasses, a spandex flag bikini and a "Miss Alaska" banner. Come midnight, you gonna wish you knew how to field-dress a moose, or at least turn a stuffed polar bear into a coat, PETA be damned.
So, what you wear tonight and tomorrow is up to you (me? Joan Holloway, girdle, gold pencil, and all) but you can start out the day in the right way. What do women want? If you were me last year, it was the Batula, a spatula in the shape of a bat, and an orange and black spiderweb apron. (Both gifts were that rare and fabulous thing, items I'd never considered but that instantly spoke to my deepest desires for world batulation. Plus, you can use the Batula to spank anyone that comes between you and your pancakes.)
This weekend, it's spider and skull-shaped pancakes for everyone in the house. And while the shapes may be spooky, the pancakes themselves are both wholesome and really tasty. You could use grated winter squash or pumpkin in these if you want to really stick to the theme, but carrots are easier. Enjoy!
Spooky Autumn Pancakes
1 cup whole-wheat flour
1 tbsp wheat germ
2 tbsp rolled oats
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon or pumpkin/apple pie spice (a very handy combo of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice, sold already mixed)
1 cup buttermilk
1 egg
1 tbsp vegetable oil, such as canola, or melted butter
1 tbsp maple syrup* or honey
1/3 cup chopped walnuts or pecans
1 large raw carrot, grated
Butter for cooking pancakes
In a large bowl, sift or whisk dry ingredients together. In a separate bowl, beat buttermilk, egg, oil, and maple syrup together. Stir (don't beat!) wet ingredients into dry, adding a couple tbsp of water if mixture seems too thick. (It should be fairly thick and pillowy--enough so you can spoon it out rather than pour it). Gently stir in nuts and carrots. Set aside.
Over medium heat, heat a wide skillet or griddle. When a drop of water will sizzle and skitter over the surface, add a slim pat of butter and swirl to coat the surface. Turn down the heat to medium-low and add batter. Flip once bubbles begin to form and pop and edges look glazed. Cook another minute or two until well-browned on bottom. Repeat as needed. Serve with warm maple syrup and butter. Boooo! Serves 3 to 4, more or less.
*Yankee that I am, I feel strongly that ONLY real maple syrup is worth eating. "Table syrup" is just corn syrup and artificial flavorings, and does nothing but skyrocket your blood sugar and make the whole kitchen stink like IHOP. Look for the deep, mellow Grade B syrup sold at Trader Joe's and in bulk at Rainbow Grocery.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Will work for food
For a lot of reasons, now seems like a very good time to see how much we can do with a barter economy. As the Fallen Fruit collective claims, "You have nothing to lose but your hunger!" All my fruits and vegetables have come from truly local sources these past couple of weeks, and none of them cost me a dime.
Not in money, that is. I did, in fact, pay for all them--by forking compost, setting up irrigation tubes, weeding, making garden signs, picking strawberries, cooking for 50 farm apprentices, harvesting chard, making rosemary bundles from the huge bush in my front yard, and more. There are a lot of sources of beautiful fruits and vegetables available, if you have the time to spare to earn them. Right now, I have more time than cash, so with a few hours spent, I've become rich in gorgeous produce, to eat and share.
A few sources:
Alemany Farm, at the base of Bernal Heights. This Sunday is their Harvest Fair, so come down and see what's going on around the farm. Best non-car way to get there, besides walking and biking: the 67-Bernal Heights bus to Ellsworth and Alemany. Get off right where the bus turns in the public housing development, then walk back out to Alemany, turn right and the farm's about a dozen yards down the street. Workdays are alternating Saturdays and Sundays from 12-5, also Monday afternoons. Volunteers work and then share in a communal harvest. Right now, the tomatoes and strawberries are finishing up, but there's still lots of chard, collards, lettuce, a few peppers, ground cherries, feijodas, and green (and purple) beans.
Garden for the Environment. 7th Ave and Lawton, in the Sunset. This is a half-acre teaching garden rather than a working farm, but volunteers often share a small harvest (I went home with a big bag of bok choy) at the end of the workday. Workdays are Wednesdays, 10-2pm, and Saturday afternoons. Workshops are taught every weekend on various gardening topics, like seed saving and worm composting. PQ may be teaching some preserving the harvest classes here this winter.
Free Farm Stand. Longtime community gardener and food-justice activist Tree started this stand inside the community garden at the park on 23rd and Treat in April, using the overflow from several community gardens in Potrero and the Mission. Now he also gets donations from Acme Bread (loads of day-old fancy bread, like their killer walnut levain) and several farmers at the Ferry Plaza farmers' market, plus city-park gleanings (including a bushel of apples harvested from a tree in Golden Gate Park) and backyard harvests from friends. Sundays from 1pm to 3pm. If you have any homegrown extras--herbs, fruit, flowers, vegetables, seedlings (I brought rosemary bundles from my yard), feel free to bring 'em along, otherwise, just come and help yourself, and talk to Tree about helping out in the various gardens in which he works.
Heartfelt. This cute little giftie and flower shop on Cortland in Bernal Heights has a little freebie table out front, where locals put out their garden extras. In the summer, it was lots of plums and lemons; right now, there are 2 big bowls of green and red apples. Seedlings, bulbs, herbs have also made their way there. Check in with the staff before you donate; help yourself if you're taking, being, of course, mindful of sharing.
Not in money, that is. I did, in fact, pay for all them--by forking compost, setting up irrigation tubes, weeding, making garden signs, picking strawberries, cooking for 50 farm apprentices, harvesting chard, making rosemary bundles from the huge bush in my front yard, and more. There are a lot of sources of beautiful fruits and vegetables available, if you have the time to spare to earn them. Right now, I have more time than cash, so with a few hours spent, I've become rich in gorgeous produce, to eat and share.
A few sources:
Alemany Farm, at the base of Bernal Heights. This Sunday is their Harvest Fair, so come down and see what's going on around the farm. Best non-car way to get there, besides walking and biking: the 67-Bernal Heights bus to Ellsworth and Alemany. Get off right where the bus turns in the public housing development, then walk back out to Alemany, turn right and the farm's about a dozen yards down the street. Workdays are alternating Saturdays and Sundays from 12-5, also Monday afternoons. Volunteers work and then share in a communal harvest. Right now, the tomatoes and strawberries are finishing up, but there's still lots of chard, collards, lettuce, a few peppers, ground cherries, feijodas, and green (and purple) beans.
Garden for the Environment. 7th Ave and Lawton, in the Sunset. This is a half-acre teaching garden rather than a working farm, but volunteers often share a small harvest (I went home with a big bag of bok choy) at the end of the workday. Workdays are Wednesdays, 10-2pm, and Saturday afternoons. Workshops are taught every weekend on various gardening topics, like seed saving and worm composting. PQ may be teaching some preserving the harvest classes here this winter.
Free Farm Stand. Longtime community gardener and food-justice activist Tree started this stand inside the community garden at the park on 23rd and Treat in April, using the overflow from several community gardens in Potrero and the Mission. Now he also gets donations from Acme Bread (loads of day-old fancy bread, like their killer walnut levain) and several farmers at the Ferry Plaza farmers' market, plus city-park gleanings (including a bushel of apples harvested from a tree in Golden Gate Park) and backyard harvests from friends. Sundays from 1pm to 3pm. If you have any homegrown extras--herbs, fruit, flowers, vegetables, seedlings (I brought rosemary bundles from my yard), feel free to bring 'em along, otherwise, just come and help yourself, and talk to Tree about helping out in the various gardens in which he works.
Heartfelt. This cute little giftie and flower shop on Cortland in Bernal Heights has a little freebie table out front, where locals put out their garden extras. In the summer, it was lots of plums and lemons; right now, there are 2 big bowls of green and red apples. Seedlings, bulbs, herbs have also made their way there. Check in with the staff before you donate; help yourself if you're taking, being, of course, mindful of sharing.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Blintz Me
Yes, thanks to volunteering on several urban farms this week, I have a whole lotta veggies (and fruits) going on in my house right now. But what I really want are blintzes, preferably the ones made by my grandma Fae, may she rest in peace. Why? Probably because they're a typical part of the Yom Kippur breaking-the-fast meal.
Anyone? Grandma? Any blintz-fryers out there with farmer cheese at the ready? Once I get through all the apples, chard, and peppers, I'm going out to the Russian delis on Clement St and getting me some blintz-ready dairy products.
Blintzes
I live with regret that I never wrote down measurements for my grandmother's perfect blintzes. But this recipe (adapted from one on Epicurious) seems very close to what I remember her using.
For crêpes
1 1/2 cups whole milk
6 large eggs
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter, melted, for frying
In blender, combine milk and eggs. Add flour and salt and blend at low speed until smooth, less than 1 minute. Let batter stand 1/2 hour.
Have ready large plate or platter. Place skillet over moderately high heat, brush lightly with some melted butter, and heat until butter just begins to smoke. Pour 1/4 to 1/3 cup batter into pan, tilting to spread into thin, even layer. Cook until crêpe begins to "blister," edges curl slightly away from skillet, and underside is lightly browned, about 1 to 2 minutes. Flip crêpe out of skillet and onto plate, cooked side up.
Repeat with remaining batter, brushing skillet lightly with melted butter before cooking each crêpe. Stack crêpes, cooked side down, on plate and let cool.
For filling
1 1/2 cups (12 ounces) farmer cheese
1/2 cup (4 ounces) cottage cheese (4% milk fat) or pot cheese
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon sugar
pinch salt
big pinch cinnamon
1/2 tsp vanilla
In large bowl, mash together farmer and cottage cheeses until blended. Add egg yolk, sugar, salt, and cinnamon and mix until combined. Taste and adjust sugar, vanilla, cinnamon.
Place 1 crêpe, cooked side up, on a plate. Place 2 tablespoons filling in center, and fold up bottom to cover filling. Fold in sides, then roll to seal. (If you've never seen a blintz before, think flattish, squared-off egg rolls.) Place on a large plate. Repeat with remaining crêpes and filling. (Can be made up to 1 day ahead; cover and chill until ready to fry.)
For sauce (optional; or just serve with more butter and powdered sugar or warm maple syrup)
2 1/2 cups fresh blueberries
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch
In large saucepan, combine 2 cups blueberries, sugar, and cornstarch. Set over moderately low heat and stir gently until sugar dissolves. Raise heat to moderately high and boil, stirring occasionally, 3 minutes. Remove from heat and gently stir in remaining blueberries.
To fry blintzes, you'll need an additional 4 tb butter.
Heat 1 tablespoon butter in iron skillet over moderately high heat. Add 3 blintzes and fry until golden brown on both sides, about 1 to 2 minutes per side. Repeat with remaining butter and blintzes. Serve hot with sauce.
******
I have now been an Officially Bad Jew on 2 Yom Kippurs. The first time, I was inadvertently (I swear!) recipe-testing the BLT for Fun Food that morning. Which meant I was standing in the kitchen, eating and frying several rounds of bacon while I should have in temple, fasting. Normally, I'm not even a bacon eater, which makes it worse. This time, I was out at Pier 23 celebrating Shar's birthday when I should have been at Kol Nidre services. Susie gave her all these fabulous Vosges bars, and so I ended up eating not just chocolate but bacon-studded chocolate. I'm hoping that maybe it was still before sundown when I did this. I'm also very glad Jewish theology really doesn't have an eternal-damnation thing going.
Anyone? Grandma? Any blintz-fryers out there with farmer cheese at the ready? Once I get through all the apples, chard, and peppers, I'm going out to the Russian delis on Clement St and getting me some blintz-ready dairy products.
Blintzes
I live with regret that I never wrote down measurements for my grandmother's perfect blintzes. But this recipe (adapted from one on Epicurious) seems very close to what I remember her using.
For crêpes
1 1/2 cups whole milk
6 large eggs
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons butter, melted, for frying
In blender, combine milk and eggs. Add flour and salt and blend at low speed until smooth, less than 1 minute. Let batter stand 1/2 hour.
Have ready large plate or platter. Place skillet over moderately high heat, brush lightly with some melted butter, and heat until butter just begins to smoke. Pour 1/4 to 1/3 cup batter into pan, tilting to spread into thin, even layer. Cook until crêpe begins to "blister," edges curl slightly away from skillet, and underside is lightly browned, about 1 to 2 minutes. Flip crêpe out of skillet and onto plate, cooked side up.
Repeat with remaining batter, brushing skillet lightly with melted butter before cooking each crêpe. Stack crêpes, cooked side down, on plate and let cool.
For filling
1 1/2 cups (12 ounces) farmer cheese
1/2 cup (4 ounces) cottage cheese (4% milk fat) or pot cheese
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon sugar
pinch salt
big pinch cinnamon
1/2 tsp vanilla
In large bowl, mash together farmer and cottage cheeses until blended. Add egg yolk, sugar, salt, and cinnamon and mix until combined. Taste and adjust sugar, vanilla, cinnamon.
Place 1 crêpe, cooked side up, on a plate. Place 2 tablespoons filling in center, and fold up bottom to cover filling. Fold in sides, then roll to seal. (If you've never seen a blintz before, think flattish, squared-off egg rolls.) Place on a large plate. Repeat with remaining crêpes and filling. (Can be made up to 1 day ahead; cover and chill until ready to fry.)
For sauce (optional; or just serve with more butter and powdered sugar or warm maple syrup)
2 1/2 cups fresh blueberries
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch
In large saucepan, combine 2 cups blueberries, sugar, and cornstarch. Set over moderately low heat and stir gently until sugar dissolves. Raise heat to moderately high and boil, stirring occasionally, 3 minutes. Remove from heat and gently stir in remaining blueberries.
To fry blintzes, you'll need an additional 4 tb butter.
Heat 1 tablespoon butter in iron skillet over moderately high heat. Add 3 blintzes and fry until golden brown on both sides, about 1 to 2 minutes per side. Repeat with remaining butter and blintzes. Serve hot with sauce.
******
I have now been an Officially Bad Jew on 2 Yom Kippurs. The first time, I was inadvertently (I swear!) recipe-testing the BLT for Fun Food that morning. Which meant I was standing in the kitchen, eating and frying several rounds of bacon while I should have in temple, fasting. Normally, I'm not even a bacon eater, which makes it worse. This time, I was out at Pier 23 celebrating Shar's birthday when I should have been at Kol Nidre services. Susie gave her all these fabulous Vosges bars, and so I ended up eating not just chocolate but bacon-studded chocolate. I'm hoping that maybe it was still before sundown when I did this. I'm also very glad Jewish theology really doesn't have an eternal-damnation thing going.
Cupcakes for CA, MA, CT
Go Connecticut! Even if they're just angling for some of those gay ice-sculpture dollars (now that all those Darien bankers are going bust), the Supreme Court in Conn. just ruled, 4-3, that same-sex couples can marry in their state. This is great, great news. And since NY gov David Patterson has agreed to recognize out-of-state marriages, all those gay New Yorkers with Connecticut country houses can just throw their tuxes in the car without without having to jet up to MA or out to CA. Yippeee! Wedding cupcakes for all!
But, of course, nothing can be taken for granted. It's crucial to get out and vote this November. And while your vote is between you and your conscience, if you live in CA the PQ is urging you to consider VOTING NO ON PROP 8. Prop 8 would take away the already-established right for all couples to legally marry in CA.
No matter what you think of gay people buying matching towels together, if you're straight, letting gay people marry too should make NO difference in your life. You can still get married, divorced, married again as many times as you like. So what if Jim and James down the street are married too? This is supposed to be the land of the free, y'all. More freedoms--and the acceptance of the responsibilities that come with them--are, in my opinion, the hallmarks of a strong country and a social fabric that's worthy of respect. Do the right thing, for your friends and neighbors.
Vegan Cupcakes for Everybody
Now, you know I'm down with the butter and eggs when it comes to baking. But in the interest of inclusiveness, here's a recipe worth a try, even for the egg-adverse among us.
* 1 cup soy milk
* 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
* 3/4 cup granulated sugar
* 1/3 cup canola oil
* 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
* 1 cup all-purpose flour
* 1/3 cup cocoa powder, Dutch-processed or regular
* 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
* 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
INSTRUCTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 350°F and line a muffin pan with paper or foil liners. Awww, ain't they cute?
2. Whisk together the soy milk and vinegar in a large bowl, and set aside for a few minutes to curdle. Add the sugar, oil, and vanilla extract to the soy milk mixture and beat until foamy. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Really, you need to sift, because both cocoa and baking soda love to clump up into annoying little balls. Add in two batches to wet ingredients and beat until no large lumps remain (a few tiny lumps are OK).
3. Pour into liners, filling 3/4 of the way. Bake 18 to 20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to a cooling rack and let cool completely.
But, of course, nothing can be taken for granted. It's crucial to get out and vote this November. And while your vote is between you and your conscience, if you live in CA the PQ is urging you to consider VOTING NO ON PROP 8. Prop 8 would take away the already-established right for all couples to legally marry in CA.
No matter what you think of gay people buying matching towels together, if you're straight, letting gay people marry too should make NO difference in your life. You can still get married, divorced, married again as many times as you like. So what if Jim and James down the street are married too? This is supposed to be the land of the free, y'all. More freedoms--and the acceptance of the responsibilities that come with them--are, in my opinion, the hallmarks of a strong country and a social fabric that's worthy of respect. Do the right thing, for your friends and neighbors.
Vegan Cupcakes for Everybody
Now, you know I'm down with the butter and eggs when it comes to baking. But in the interest of inclusiveness, here's a recipe worth a try, even for the egg-adverse among us.
* 1 cup soy milk
* 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
* 3/4 cup granulated sugar
* 1/3 cup canola oil
* 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
* 1 cup all-purpose flour
* 1/3 cup cocoa powder, Dutch-processed or regular
* 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
* 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
INSTRUCTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 350°F and line a muffin pan with paper or foil liners. Awww, ain't they cute?
2. Whisk together the soy milk and vinegar in a large bowl, and set aside for a few minutes to curdle. Add the sugar, oil, and vanilla extract to the soy milk mixture and beat until foamy. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Really, you need to sift, because both cocoa and baking soda love to clump up into annoying little balls. Add in two batches to wet ingredients and beat until no large lumps remain (a few tiny lumps are OK).
3. Pour into liners, filling 3/4 of the way. Bake 18 to 20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to a cooling rack and let cool completely.
Monday, October 06, 2008
gettin' dirty just shakin' that thing
Farming! It was all about the dirt this weekend. Went down to UCSC for the CASFS Harvest fest, and it was absolutely charming, as always. A whole posse of little face-painted kids were bobbing and swaying to the Rolling Cultivators' rockin' bluegrass while a couple of farmies were grinding away at the cider press, with Karen and Felizia pouring juice, another farmie grilling corn and veggie kabobs, and just loads of general sunshine and happiness. I was in apple-eating bliss, with all those cold nights, disappearing mugs, and close quarters with loud, walk-over-the-table-in-dirty-boots dudes forgotten, or at least not in the forefront of my mind. No, it was happy times with Frankie and Beans (the rat-eating farm cats), all the Early Girl dry-farmed tomatoes you could eat, and that priceless view. (And it's almost deadline time for applying to the program for '09, so get on it if you want to go! Happy to answer any and all questions you might have, especially for you over-30 types.)
An even more priceless view was to be had from the Chancellor's house, where we got to hear a short concert by the Shanghai Quartet, before their larger concert as part of the Arts and Lectures series. Hearing Ravel, Schubert, Brahms, and a contemporary Chinese composer in what was essentially a large living room with a stunning view of the ocean and meadows was also high on the bliss rating for the day, followed by browsing around and finally spending the last of the Book Shop Santa Cruz gift certificate I'd earned last year with my 2nd place in the apple pie contest. I went home with The Urban Homestead handbook, full of useful and snappily-written info about self-sufficient city living, from making daikon pickles and building your own solar dehydrator to using greywater and why it's crucially important to make sure your chickens have dry, fluffy, healthy butts.
And then onto the Alemany Farm, to dig and dig and dig and dig some more, to get out the posts that were planted halfway to China to hold up the bean fence. We pulled out the old beans, rolled up the chicken wire, and then spent hours digging out the poles. But by the end of the afternoon, the bed was cleared and marked off for a cover crop planting, and I was harvesting a big bucket of plum, lemon boy, sungold, and early girl tomatoes. Came home with a fabulous harvest of tomatoes, green beans, strawberries, rainbow chard, basil, and lettuce mix, all grown and picked right there in Bernal. You can have free vegetables, too: just show up and work from 12-5pm, and you can share in the bounty of the harvest at the end of the day. The farm has work days every weekend, alternating Saturday and Sunday. (The schedule's on their website.) Somehow, vegetables taste better when you bring them home, sweaty and dirty, having earning them with your back and hands.
Tonight, it's local salad-o-rama, with Shar and Susie. I'll be combining my Bernal harvest with what I brought back from the Santa Cruz farm (since I also had a gift certificate to spend at their market stand, earned from cooking 3 squares for the farmies earlier this year). Which means a salad nicoise, I think--with everything but the tuna (and the wine from Arkansas!) local. Green beans, lettuce, potatoes, tomatoes, peppers--all local. And then apple gingerbread, followed by a nip over to hipster-tapas hangout Andulu, at 16th and Guerrero, to see the gorgeous photos of Bill Basquin, part of a photo series and film doc dubbed Soiled, about what he's been growing in his community plot in the Dearborn Garden.
An even more priceless view was to be had from the Chancellor's house, where we got to hear a short concert by the Shanghai Quartet, before their larger concert as part of the Arts and Lectures series. Hearing Ravel, Schubert, Brahms, and a contemporary Chinese composer in what was essentially a large living room with a stunning view of the ocean and meadows was also high on the bliss rating for the day, followed by browsing around and finally spending the last of the Book Shop Santa Cruz gift certificate I'd earned last year with my 2nd place in the apple pie contest. I went home with The Urban Homestead handbook, full of useful and snappily-written info about self-sufficient city living, from making daikon pickles and building your own solar dehydrator to using greywater and why it's crucially important to make sure your chickens have dry, fluffy, healthy butts.
And then onto the Alemany Farm, to dig and dig and dig and dig some more, to get out the posts that were planted halfway to China to hold up the bean fence. We pulled out the old beans, rolled up the chicken wire, and then spent hours digging out the poles. But by the end of the afternoon, the bed was cleared and marked off for a cover crop planting, and I was harvesting a big bucket of plum, lemon boy, sungold, and early girl tomatoes. Came home with a fabulous harvest of tomatoes, green beans, strawberries, rainbow chard, basil, and lettuce mix, all grown and picked right there in Bernal. You can have free vegetables, too: just show up and work from 12-5pm, and you can share in the bounty of the harvest at the end of the day. The farm has work days every weekend, alternating Saturday and Sunday. (The schedule's on their website.) Somehow, vegetables taste better when you bring them home, sweaty and dirty, having earning them with your back and hands.
Tonight, it's local salad-o-rama, with Shar and Susie. I'll be combining my Bernal harvest with what I brought back from the Santa Cruz farm (since I also had a gift certificate to spend at their market stand, earned from cooking 3 squares for the farmies earlier this year). Which means a salad nicoise, I think--with everything but the tuna (and the wine from Arkansas!) local. Green beans, lettuce, potatoes, tomatoes, peppers--all local. And then apple gingerbread, followed by a nip over to hipster-tapas hangout Andulu, at 16th and Guerrero, to see the gorgeous photos of Bill Basquin, part of a photo series and film doc dubbed Soiled, about what he's been growing in his community plot in the Dearborn Garden.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
challah and nails
So, it seems I missed my chance--twice!--to have a baby named Violet. E. and his wife have just named their new little one Violet, joining Dutch, his ladywife, and their girl Violet. And since there are other ladies out there who might very well have spawned by now, perhaps there are even more Violets among my ex's. Well, a big cheer to all of them, and here's to their getting a full night's sleep again sometime in the next five years.
What else? Last night was a lovely Rosh Hashanah celebration, with piles of homemade challah, much butter and honey, apples, pears, Asian pears and pomegranates, Arkansas wine and grape juice from the Post Familie winery, lots of barbecued chicken, corn muffins, and honey butter from Roxxie and Nancy's new favorite bbq joint out in the avenues, right next to their favorite cheap Indian place, and salad from Christina. It was a stone soup/potluck kind of deal--the best kind--and everyone agreed that the wine tasted like Manischevitz, only better. I've done many types of RH dinners, and this was the most low-key but one of the warmest, too.
Now, onto Sukkot planning! I wanted to build a sukkah out at the farm last year, but busy farm life got in the way. But here, we have a little back patio, just big enough for a little hut. It could happen, with some scrap lumber, rope, nails, and branches. One thing I am not going to do, though, is spend $$$ buying some super-ugly sukkah from a kit. A writer from the NYT reviewed a few this week, and they all sounded (and looked) hideous, made of metal tubes and printed plastic sheets, nothing like the rustic farm-laborer's shacks that were the inspiration for the holiday in the first place. The writer freely admitted having no confidence in his ability to even put together something from a kit, inviting an architect friend over to do the screwing and hammering. Are we really that far removed from taking care of basic tasks for ourselves? Granted, I'm no handyperson, but I can hammer a nail, sew a button, and bake a loaf of bread. (Given my druthers, I'd also like to know how to spin wool, make croissants, and tend goats, but that's just me.) Slapping together a temporary little hut in the backyard--one that, by Torah mandate, cannot have a solid roof, and only needs 2 1/2 walls to be kosher--is not like raising your own barn. It can look as slapdash as you want, as long as it can stay up for a week and provide space for a dinner table. I'm no carpenter, but how hard can it be? I'm thinking of having a build-the-sukkah party in a few weeks. Bring a piece of wood, bring a handful of nails, and help make it happen! followed by, of course, dining al fresco, looking up through the branches at the stars.
What else? Last night was a lovely Rosh Hashanah celebration, with piles of homemade challah, much butter and honey, apples, pears, Asian pears and pomegranates, Arkansas wine and grape juice from the Post Familie winery, lots of barbecued chicken, corn muffins, and honey butter from Roxxie and Nancy's new favorite bbq joint out in the avenues, right next to their favorite cheap Indian place, and salad from Christina. It was a stone soup/potluck kind of deal--the best kind--and everyone agreed that the wine tasted like Manischevitz, only better. I've done many types of RH dinners, and this was the most low-key but one of the warmest, too.
Now, onto Sukkot planning! I wanted to build a sukkah out at the farm last year, but busy farm life got in the way. But here, we have a little back patio, just big enough for a little hut. It could happen, with some scrap lumber, rope, nails, and branches. One thing I am not going to do, though, is spend $$$ buying some super-ugly sukkah from a kit. A writer from the NYT reviewed a few this week, and they all sounded (and looked) hideous, made of metal tubes and printed plastic sheets, nothing like the rustic farm-laborer's shacks that were the inspiration for the holiday in the first place. The writer freely admitted having no confidence in his ability to even put together something from a kit, inviting an architect friend over to do the screwing and hammering. Are we really that far removed from taking care of basic tasks for ourselves? Granted, I'm no handyperson, but I can hammer a nail, sew a button, and bake a loaf of bread. (Given my druthers, I'd also like to know how to spin wool, make croissants, and tend goats, but that's just me.) Slapping together a temporary little hut in the backyard--one that, by Torah mandate, cannot have a solid roof, and only needs 2 1/2 walls to be kosher--is not like raising your own barn. It can look as slapdash as you want, as long as it can stay up for a week and provide space for a dinner table. I'm no carpenter, but how hard can it be? I'm thinking of having a build-the-sukkah party in a few weeks. Bring a piece of wood, bring a handful of nails, and help make it happen! followed by, of course, dining al fresco, looking up through the branches at the stars.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Challah and Better than Honeycake
L'Shanah Tovah! Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, starts tonight at sundown. And right on time, my box of Arkansas wine arrived, including a nice bottle of muscadine grape juice--much tastier than Welch's for the non-drinkers. More muscadine pix, and a visit to the winery and vineyards, to follow.
Right now, of course, what you need is a nice challah recipe (below), and an alternative to honeycake, which everyone (at least on the eastern-european side) feels compelled to eat, but no one likes very much. And here PQ can help you out, with the famous apple upside-down gingerbread. You can use half molasses, half honey, if you have to get the honey in there. And if you're having brisket and don't want to serve a butter-based cake for dessert, you can sub this no-dairy gingerbread recipe, adapted from the original Silver Palate Cookbook, below.
Very Useful & Easy Gingerbread, with upside-down option
In a glass measuring cup, measure the oil first, pour into a separate cup, and then measure the molasses. This helps the molasses run right out the cup when you tip it, which otherwise it will not do. I've also made this as more of general spice cake, using 2 tsp of mixed "pumpkin pie spice" (also called apple-pie spice--basically, a mix of cinnamon, ginger, allspice, nutmeg, and cloves).
For optional apple/pear upside-down topping:
3 apples or pears, cored and sliced
3 tbsp butter or margarine (if you need to be non-dairy)
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
Batter:
1 2/3 cups flour
2 tsp powdered ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg, fresh grated if possible
1/4 tsp cloves
1 1/4 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp grated fresh ginger root, and/or 2 tbsp chopped crystallized ginger (optional, but I would add both if I were you)
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup molasses, or 1/4 cup honey and 1/4 cup molasses
1 egg
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup boiling water
Preheat oven to 350F. Grease a square 8 x 8 or deep, round 9" cake pan. To make topping: melt butter in a small pot. Add brown sugar and cook, swirling the pan, until thick, melted, and smooth. Pour mixture into prepared baking pan, spreading evenly. Arrange sliced apples or pears in concentric circles. Fit fruit in tightly, since it will shrink in baking. Set aside. Put 1/2 cup water on to boil.
Sift flour, spices, baking soda, and salt into a large bowl. In a separate bowl, beat eggs, sugar, and molasses. Stir into flour, then quickly stir in oil and boiling water. Pour into prepared pan (over the fruit, if using) and bake 35-40 minutes. If using fruit, loosen cake and invert onto plate while still warm, pushing any errant fruit slices into place as needed.
A Nice Round Challah for a Sweet Year (adapted from my own book, Honey from Flower to Table)
1 tbsp (1 packet) dry yeast, dissolved in 1/4 cup lukewarm water, or a decent nubbin of fresh yeast, dissolved in same amount of water
1 cup lukewarm water
1/3 cup melted butter or oil
2 eggs plus 2 yolks
1/2 cup honey
2 1/2 tsp salt
4 - 5 cups flour
1 cup raisins, golden look especially nice
1/4 cup honey, for drizzling, or an egg wash of 1 egg beaten with 1 tbsp water
Mix up water, butter, eggs, and honey. Add yeast. Stir in 2 cups of flour and the salt. Keep adding flour (2-3 cups) until you have a soft, sticky dough. Turn out and knead well for 6 to 8 minutes, adding flour as needed. Doughs with honey are hydroscopic (they absorb water from the air), which means they tend to get more gloppy, not less. Knead with a little oil on your hands, or use a dough scraper. You can add more flour as you knead, but go easy, as you want the dough to stay fairly soft. Let rise until doubled, then punch down. You can do another rise, or go straight to shaping.
Flatten dough into a big rectangle. Sprinkle with raisins, and fold or roll until raisins are fairly well integrated into the dough. Shape 2/3 of the dough into a long, thick rope. Now wrap the rope around itself, starting about halfway down the rope. Tuck the "tail" into the top. Do the same with smaller piece, and nestle the topknot into the top of the dough. This makes 1 big loaf; you can also divide it and make 2 smaller ones. Let rise until nearly doubled in size. Preheat oven to 350F. Drizzle loaf with honey or brush with egg wash. Bake for 35-45 minutes, until puffed, golden, and shiny. Serve with apples and honey.
Makes the world's best French toast the next day.
Right now, of course, what you need is a nice challah recipe (below), and an alternative to honeycake, which everyone (at least on the eastern-european side) feels compelled to eat, but no one likes very much. And here PQ can help you out, with the famous apple upside-down gingerbread. You can use half molasses, half honey, if you have to get the honey in there. And if you're having brisket and don't want to serve a butter-based cake for dessert, you can sub this no-dairy gingerbread recipe, adapted from the original Silver Palate Cookbook, below.
Very Useful & Easy Gingerbread, with upside-down option
In a glass measuring cup, measure the oil first, pour into a separate cup, and then measure the molasses. This helps the molasses run right out the cup when you tip it, which otherwise it will not do. I've also made this as more of general spice cake, using 2 tsp of mixed "pumpkin pie spice" (also called apple-pie spice--basically, a mix of cinnamon, ginger, allspice, nutmeg, and cloves).
For optional apple/pear upside-down topping:
3 apples or pears, cored and sliced
3 tbsp butter or margarine (if you need to be non-dairy)
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
Batter:
1 2/3 cups flour
2 tsp powdered ginger
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg, fresh grated if possible
1/4 tsp cloves
1 1/4 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1 tbsp grated fresh ginger root, and/or 2 tbsp chopped crystallized ginger (optional, but I would add both if I were you)
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup molasses, or 1/4 cup honey and 1/4 cup molasses
1 egg
1/2 cup oil
1/2 cup boiling water
Preheat oven to 350F. Grease a square 8 x 8 or deep, round 9" cake pan. To make topping: melt butter in a small pot. Add brown sugar and cook, swirling the pan, until thick, melted, and smooth. Pour mixture into prepared baking pan, spreading evenly. Arrange sliced apples or pears in concentric circles. Fit fruit in tightly, since it will shrink in baking. Set aside. Put 1/2 cup water on to boil.
Sift flour, spices, baking soda, and salt into a large bowl. In a separate bowl, beat eggs, sugar, and molasses. Stir into flour, then quickly stir in oil and boiling water. Pour into prepared pan (over the fruit, if using) and bake 35-40 minutes. If using fruit, loosen cake and invert onto plate while still warm, pushing any errant fruit slices into place as needed.
A Nice Round Challah for a Sweet Year (adapted from my own book, Honey from Flower to Table)
1 tbsp (1 packet) dry yeast, dissolved in 1/4 cup lukewarm water, or a decent nubbin of fresh yeast, dissolved in same amount of water
1 cup lukewarm water
1/3 cup melted butter or oil
2 eggs plus 2 yolks
1/2 cup honey
2 1/2 tsp salt
4 - 5 cups flour
1 cup raisins, golden look especially nice
1/4 cup honey, for drizzling, or an egg wash of 1 egg beaten with 1 tbsp water
Mix up water, butter, eggs, and honey. Add yeast. Stir in 2 cups of flour and the salt. Keep adding flour (2-3 cups) until you have a soft, sticky dough. Turn out and knead well for 6 to 8 minutes, adding flour as needed. Doughs with honey are hydroscopic (they absorb water from the air), which means they tend to get more gloppy, not less. Knead with a little oil on your hands, or use a dough scraper. You can add more flour as you knead, but go easy, as you want the dough to stay fairly soft. Let rise until doubled, then punch down. You can do another rise, or go straight to shaping.
Flatten dough into a big rectangle. Sprinkle with raisins, and fold or roll until raisins are fairly well integrated into the dough. Shape 2/3 of the dough into a long, thick rope. Now wrap the rope around itself, starting about halfway down the rope. Tuck the "tail" into the top. Do the same with smaller piece, and nestle the topknot into the top of the dough. This makes 1 big loaf; you can also divide it and make 2 smaller ones. Let rise until nearly doubled in size. Preheat oven to 350F. Drizzle loaf with honey or brush with egg wash. Bake for 35-45 minutes, until puffed, golden, and shiny. Serve with apples and honey.
Makes the world's best French toast the next day.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
put a little steam in your Saturday
Sigh.
You can keep your xtube, your flesh-slapping naked people doing what naked people do. Give me provocation in green satin shoes, any day of the week. I also find this to be the most convincing argument for bisexuality that I can imagine, given how completely dreamy both Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse are here. (It's also fun to note how 6-feet-plus-in-heels Cyd Charisse keeps her knees bent and her hips cocked in almost all of her up-close partner shots, so she doesn't tower over her men.)
And you? Your favorite don't-make-'em-like-they-used-to moments of screen steam?
You can keep your xtube, your flesh-slapping naked people doing what naked people do. Give me provocation in green satin shoes, any day of the week. I also find this to be the most convincing argument for bisexuality that I can imagine, given how completely dreamy both Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse are here. (It's also fun to note how 6-feet-plus-in-heels Cyd Charisse keeps her knees bent and her hips cocked in almost all of her up-close partner shots, so she doesn't tower over her men.)
And you? Your favorite don't-make-'em-like-they-used-to moments of screen steam?
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Baking Bread at Steph's Cafe
So, the house smells like baking bread again, not a bad thing. This is the third round of bread baking I've done since I got here, and the most successful. The first, from a recipe from the Inn at Dairy Hollow cookbook (the B&B that was here in this space, before it became the writers' colony) Did Not Work. Really, it was like a horrible dense brick that never rose. Bummer. The second version rose like a charm, only we lost our power that day, and with an electric oven, I had to keep punching down the dough and waiting before I could finally fire up the oven and bake. When I finally put the bread in, it had over-proofed and looked collapsed and wrinkly. It baked up okay, but I never got that beautiful swoosh of oven spring, and the loaf was a little dense.
This round, though, poofed up gorgeously in the oven, rising to about double what it was in the pans, and was light and delicious. I had a little bowl of orange-cinnamon-lavender sugar lying around, extra from the plum cake I'd made on Thursday, so I swirled that into one of the loaves, and damn if it wasn't just heaven's morning toast.
Bet y'all like the recipe now, wouldn't you? Well, so would I. I have to admit that I just sort of threw stuff together without measuring on this one. Once you have a sense of the basic dough proportions, you can do this, and it will almost always work. Having done this for a while, I also have a pretty good eye for guessing measurements, so the recipe below should be roughly accurate. Mess around, experiment, and let me know how it goes.
Re: buttermilk. I love buttermilk, for drinking straight and in all kinds of baked goods. The only way it doesn't work for me is, weirdly enough, in pancakes. I know, that's the place it's supposed to go, but every time I make a buttermilk pancake batter, I get a wet, gummy-rubbery result. So now I use regular milk and save my buttermilk for baked-in-the-oven things.
Orange-Cinnamon Oatmeal Bread
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup rolled oatmeal flakes
3 tbsp butter, softened
2 tbsp honey, sorghum, or pure cane syrup
1 tbsp salt
Mix all together and let sit for 20-30 minutes.
1 packet dry yeast, dissolved in 1/4 cup water
2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
Stir dissolved yeast into flour, adding enough water to make a thick, clumpy batter. Cover and let stand while oatmeal is soaking.
Stir oatmeal mixture into whole wheat flour. Add enough white flour (probably 1-2 cups) to make a soft but kneadable dough. Knead for 6-8 minutes, then let rise until doubled.
Meanwhile, make sugar mixture:
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
grated rind of 1 orange
1 tsp crushed, dried lavender flowers
1/4 tsp cardamom
Punch down dough and divide in two. Flatten one ball of dough into a rectangle, and sprinkle with half the sugar mix. Roll up tightly into a loaf shape, and place in lightly greased loaf pan. Repeat with rest of dough and sugar. Let rise until nearly doubled, then bake at 400F until well browned and risen, about 35 minutes. Tip out of pans (to prevent soggy sides/bottom) and let cool on a rack.
This round, though, poofed up gorgeously in the oven, rising to about double what it was in the pans, and was light and delicious. I had a little bowl of orange-cinnamon-lavender sugar lying around, extra from the plum cake I'd made on Thursday, so I swirled that into one of the loaves, and damn if it wasn't just heaven's morning toast.
Bet y'all like the recipe now, wouldn't you? Well, so would I. I have to admit that I just sort of threw stuff together without measuring on this one. Once you have a sense of the basic dough proportions, you can do this, and it will almost always work. Having done this for a while, I also have a pretty good eye for guessing measurements, so the recipe below should be roughly accurate. Mess around, experiment, and let me know how it goes.
Re: buttermilk. I love buttermilk, for drinking straight and in all kinds of baked goods. The only way it doesn't work for me is, weirdly enough, in pancakes. I know, that's the place it's supposed to go, but every time I make a buttermilk pancake batter, I get a wet, gummy-rubbery result. So now I use regular milk and save my buttermilk for baked-in-the-oven things.
Orange-Cinnamon Oatmeal Bread
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup rolled oatmeal flakes
3 tbsp butter, softened
2 tbsp honey, sorghum, or pure cane syrup
1 tbsp salt
Mix all together and let sit for 20-30 minutes.
1 packet dry yeast, dissolved in 1/4 cup water
2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
Stir dissolved yeast into flour, adding enough water to make a thick, clumpy batter. Cover and let stand while oatmeal is soaking.
Stir oatmeal mixture into whole wheat flour. Add enough white flour (probably 1-2 cups) to make a soft but kneadable dough. Knead for 6-8 minutes, then let rise until doubled.
Meanwhile, make sugar mixture:
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
grated rind of 1 orange
1 tsp crushed, dried lavender flowers
1/4 tsp cardamom
Punch down dough and divide in two. Flatten one ball of dough into a rectangle, and sprinkle with half the sugar mix. Roll up tightly into a loaf shape, and place in lightly greased loaf pan. Repeat with rest of dough and sugar. Let rise until nearly doubled, then bake at 400F until well browned and risen, about 35 minutes. Tip out of pans (to prevent soggy sides/bottom) and let cool on a rack.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Robert Steinberg, 1947-2008
Robert Steinberg, doctor, chocolate aficionado, co-founder of Scharffen Berger chocolate, and a man of quick mind, boundless curiosity, and much passion, died on Wednesday. A sad day.
I met Robert in San Francisco in the mid-90s, shortly after he and business partner John Scharffenberger started their quirky little bean-to-bar chocolate company, Scharffen Berger Chocolate, with a space between the two words so customers wouldn't confuse it with the Scharffenberger winery, a sparkling-wine operation run by John's family up in the Anderson Valley. Robert was a doctor who'd left practice after being diagnosed with lymphatic cancer. A man of many passions, he decided what he really wanted to do was make chocolate. Really make it, from sourcing the beans to wrapping the bars. At the time, no one in the U.S. was doing this. Plenty of people were making fancy chocolates and even fancy bars, but they were all buying their chocolate elsewhere, usually from Europe, and then blending and flavoring it to suit their tastes. Robert and John, however, were going to go back to basics.
For equipment, they had to go to Germany, buying up old fire-engine-red, Willie-Wonka-ish machines from small family firms, then retrofitting them to run on American current. The flavor they were after was dramatic: smoky, fruity, smooth but forward. It evolved over time, but you still can't confuse SB with any other chocolate.
Robert was like that, too. He had a sardonic wit and lots of opinions, but unlike a lot of opinionated people, he wanted to know what you thought, too, and why. You couldn't get away with mindless conversational fluff; he really wanted to hear what you were doing, and what you thought about it. I first met him down at the company's original South San Francisco warehouse, and from then on we'd chat at various industry events and food deals. I'd run into him at the farmers' market, at the James Beard Awards, and always, he seemed to know everyone there. He was a man of taste, and dedication, who said what he believed. The evolution in chocolate that has occurred over the last 10 years was spurred in many ways by his dedication, curiosity, and passion.
More background,here.
I met Robert in San Francisco in the mid-90s, shortly after he and business partner John Scharffenberger started their quirky little bean-to-bar chocolate company, Scharffen Berger Chocolate, with a space between the two words so customers wouldn't confuse it with the Scharffenberger winery, a sparkling-wine operation run by John's family up in the Anderson Valley. Robert was a doctor who'd left practice after being diagnosed with lymphatic cancer. A man of many passions, he decided what he really wanted to do was make chocolate. Really make it, from sourcing the beans to wrapping the bars. At the time, no one in the U.S. was doing this. Plenty of people were making fancy chocolates and even fancy bars, but they were all buying their chocolate elsewhere, usually from Europe, and then blending and flavoring it to suit their tastes. Robert and John, however, were going to go back to basics.
For equipment, they had to go to Germany, buying up old fire-engine-red, Willie-Wonka-ish machines from small family firms, then retrofitting them to run on American current. The flavor they were after was dramatic: smoky, fruity, smooth but forward. It evolved over time, but you still can't confuse SB with any other chocolate.
Robert was like that, too. He had a sardonic wit and lots of opinions, but unlike a lot of opinionated people, he wanted to know what you thought, too, and why. You couldn't get away with mindless conversational fluff; he really wanted to hear what you were doing, and what you thought about it. I first met him down at the company's original South San Francisco warehouse, and from then on we'd chat at various industry events and food deals. I'd run into him at the farmers' market, at the James Beard Awards, and always, he seemed to know everyone there. He was a man of taste, and dedication, who said what he believed. The evolution in chocolate that has occurred over the last 10 years was spurred in many ways by his dedication, curiosity, and passion.
More background,here.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
in the kitchen
Brownedbuttersugarplumsvanillalavenderorangecinnamon, that's what my kitchen smells like right now. With a little bit of garlicky spinach thrown in there, and if you open the fridge, Thai-curry-coconut-pumpkin soup. Outside, it's soft and warm and sort of late-summer-edge-of-fall. Just pretty beautiful all around. Oh, and I did mention the dishwasher? Nothing to you suburbanites, but a crazy luxury for this low-rent city gal.
Everyone likes pancakes! You can put anything in a pancake, I think, and if you pour enough syrup over it, it's yummy! Made butternut squash-apple-spice pancakes at the farmers' market this morning, over a propane stove, and doused them in sorghum syrup from the aptly named Ozark, Missouri at the end, and they were a hit! Who wouldn't like a nice hot cinnamon-spiced pancake on a crisp September morning? I think everyone at the market moseyed over for a pancake or two (I made them silver-dollar sized, so there were plenty). Recipe's below. One guy even ate up all my leftover steamed butternut squash. It's just so fun to pick out produce from the stands and then cook with it right there, without even going home.
So that was breakfast, and then an Ozark caponata--with eggplant, green tomatoes, red pepper, vidalia onion, and lots of fresh garlic and basil--was lunch. Served with triscuits and pita chips, and it was all gobbled up. Nary a recipe sheet or eggplant cube was left by the time I left. Much fun!
And now, on to Poet Luck...and spinach quiche, pumpkin soup, plum cake, and the recipe-testing caponata, made into a pasta salad with fusilli.
Spiced Pumpkin Pancakes
2 cups all-purpose or whole wheat pastry flour
1 tablespoon sugar, or to taste
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg, freshly grated if possible
1/4 tsp cloves
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups milk
1 cup pumpkin purée (made from steamed or roasted pumpkin or butternut squash)
2 tbsp butter, melted
1 large apple, cored and diced, and/or handful of toasted chopped pecans
butter for greasing griddle
Sorghum or maple syrup and butter for serving
2. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices. Stir to blend.
3. In another large bowl, whisk together eggs, buttermilk, and pumpkin purée. Stir in flour mixture, followed by the melted butter and diced apple and/or nuts. Stir until just blended--do not beat! Add a little more milk or water if batter is too thick.
4. Heat a heavy skillet or griddle, and lightly coat surface with oil or butter. Spoon batter onto griddle, using about 1/4 cup per cake.
5. When pancakes are lightly browned on the bottoms (after about 2 minutes), flip them over, and cook another minute, until browned.
6. Place pancakes on warm plates, garnish with pecans, drizzle with butter and warmed maple or sorghum syrup, or spread with apple butter.
Everyone likes pancakes! You can put anything in a pancake, I think, and if you pour enough syrup over it, it's yummy! Made butternut squash-apple-spice pancakes at the farmers' market this morning, over a propane stove, and doused them in sorghum syrup from the aptly named Ozark, Missouri at the end, and they were a hit! Who wouldn't like a nice hot cinnamon-spiced pancake on a crisp September morning? I think everyone at the market moseyed over for a pancake or two (I made them silver-dollar sized, so there were plenty). Recipe's below. One guy even ate up all my leftover steamed butternut squash. It's just so fun to pick out produce from the stands and then cook with it right there, without even going home.
So that was breakfast, and then an Ozark caponata--with eggplant, green tomatoes, red pepper, vidalia onion, and lots of fresh garlic and basil--was lunch. Served with triscuits and pita chips, and it was all gobbled up. Nary a recipe sheet or eggplant cube was left by the time I left. Much fun!
And now, on to Poet Luck...and spinach quiche, pumpkin soup, plum cake, and the recipe-testing caponata, made into a pasta salad with fusilli.
Spiced Pumpkin Pancakes
2 cups all-purpose or whole wheat pastry flour
1 tablespoon sugar, or to taste
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg, freshly grated if possible
1/4 tsp cloves
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups milk
1 cup pumpkin purée (made from steamed or roasted pumpkin or butternut squash)
2 tbsp butter, melted
1 large apple, cored and diced, and/or handful of toasted chopped pecans
butter for greasing griddle
Sorghum or maple syrup and butter for serving
2. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices. Stir to blend.
3. In another large bowl, whisk together eggs, buttermilk, and pumpkin purée. Stir in flour mixture, followed by the melted butter and diced apple and/or nuts. Stir until just blended--do not beat! Add a little more milk or water if batter is too thick.
4. Heat a heavy skillet or griddle, and lightly coat surface with oil or butter. Spoon batter onto griddle, using about 1/4 cup per cake.
5. When pancakes are lightly browned on the bottoms (after about 2 minutes), flip them over, and cook another minute, until browned.
6. Place pancakes on warm plates, garnish with pecans, drizzle with butter and warmed maple or sorghum syrup, or spread with apple butter.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Lizbeth, eat yer squish!
Summer squash. Winter squash. Purple hull beans. Okra. Green beans. Cherry tomatoes. Potatoes. Leeks. Peppers. Rhubarb. Apples. Herbs. Lettuce. Eggplant--white, purple, lavender, baby striped. Flowers. Summer and fall were colliding in abundance out at the farmers' market on Rt. 23 in Eureka Springs. It was so nice to be back there and see Heather the market manager, and Patrice, the French businessman-turned-organic-farmer, and meet some of the other farmers working the area. Vela, an apple farmer, social justice activist and poet, told me that it's just about impossible to grow peaches organically here, because the humidity and bugs mean fungal diseases like brown rot spread like wildfire, even inside a cooler. His apples are transitioning, though, and they're delicious, especially his Melrose apples, a big, tart, full-flavored apple that I hadn't tasted before. I think this will have to go into a batch of the famous upside-down apple gingerbread, for Thursday's open-mike potluck here at the Colony, dubbed the "Poetluck" and much fun for all.
Reading about eggplant in the NY Times, I was reminded that despite its unassuming spongy nature, eggplant is actually kick-ass good for you. Or, more specifically, purple eggplant SKIN is, since it's full of nasunin, which is not an Indonesian prime minister but one of those brawny antioxidents, part of the flavinoid family of anthocyanins also found in beets, red cabbage, and blueberries.
As for recipes to make at the market on Thursday, I'm thinking about pumpkin-apple pancakes with sorghum syrup, since the demo starts at 9am and we are in the Ozarks, after all. And then maybe caponata, that chunky sweet-tart Sicilian stuff with capers, olives, and vinegar, or possibly babaganoush...it's always fun to find things to make that use as much as possible from the market. Followed, perhaps, if I just can't stop cooking, by winter-squash soup, since several farmers at the market told me no one knows what to do with their beautiful squash. There's the classic squash-onion-sage-chicken broth sort of soup, with a little creme fraiche at the end, or possibly a Thai-type one, made with Thai curry paste, coconut milk, hot peppers and lemongrass. I won't have a blender, since I'll be cooking outside with just a propane stove, but if I can track down a hand-cranked food mill, all will be well!
Reading about eggplant in the NY Times, I was reminded that despite its unassuming spongy nature, eggplant is actually kick-ass good for you. Or, more specifically, purple eggplant SKIN is, since it's full of nasunin, which is not an Indonesian prime minister but one of those brawny antioxidents, part of the flavinoid family of anthocyanins also found in beets, red cabbage, and blueberries.
As for recipes to make at the market on Thursday, I'm thinking about pumpkin-apple pancakes with sorghum syrup, since the demo starts at 9am and we are in the Ozarks, after all. And then maybe caponata, that chunky sweet-tart Sicilian stuff with capers, olives, and vinegar, or possibly babaganoush...it's always fun to find things to make that use as much as possible from the market. Followed, perhaps, if I just can't stop cooking, by winter-squash soup, since several farmers at the market told me no one knows what to do with their beautiful squash. There's the classic squash-onion-sage-chicken broth sort of soup, with a little creme fraiche at the end, or possibly a Thai-type one, made with Thai curry paste, coconut milk, hot peppers and lemongrass. I won't have a blender, since I'll be cooking outside with just a propane stove, but if I can track down a hand-cranked food mill, all will be well!
Monday, September 15, 2008
Fun Thursday!
Farmers' Market in the morning, Poetluck in the evening...ain't we got fun? Looks like I'll be doing a cooking demo at the Eureka Springs farmers' market on Thursday morning (Sept 18) at 9am! Yippee! And then, back to the kitchen to make something tasty for the Poet-Luck potluck/open mike at the Writers' Colony that evening. Quiche with the thyme pie dough left over from last week's pie class? Upside-down pear gingerbread? Homemade rolls? Will post more info and recipes soon!
And, apropos of nothing at all, can you guess where this photo was taken? And what it is?
And, apropos of nothing at all, can you guess where this photo was taken? And what it is?
Happy autumn!
It's clear! It's nippy! We've got power! Yes, the hem of Hurricane Ike twitched across NW Arkansas late Saturday night like a drag queen in a snit, and we got trees down everywhere and no power from 3am to 8pm. Hard work for the road crews, and broken branches, leaves, acorns, and twigs all over everything.
Up at the Crescent Hotel, the lights were out all day, which meant a gorgeously spooky atmosphere for exploring this 1880s landmark. Lace curtains gusting out over dim empty corridors, doors opened onto empty rooms, their bedclothes still in a tangle, wide wooden staircases spiraling upwards...a perfect setting for Death at the Old Hotel. Even without power, a wedding went on as planned, and the big Crystal Dining Room seemed to be in full (if unlit) swing. I sat out on the wide back porch with a glass of OJ pilfered from the continental-breakfast spread and wrote letters as the pine and oak trees creaked in the wind and the sun broke through the scudding clouds.
Now, it's a beautiful fall day, crisp and blue and clear, with none of last week's soggy humidity. A day for hot apple cider and walking through the woods...which is just what's on my agenda once I finish up this week's CSA newsletter. And then, of course, more work on the next book, Breakfast at Steph's Cafe. Challah French toast and Dutch babies for all!
Up at the Crescent Hotel, the lights were out all day, which meant a gorgeously spooky atmosphere for exploring this 1880s landmark. Lace curtains gusting out over dim empty corridors, doors opened onto empty rooms, their bedclothes still in a tangle, wide wooden staircases spiraling upwards...a perfect setting for Death at the Old Hotel. Even without power, a wedding went on as planned, and the big Crystal Dining Room seemed to be in full (if unlit) swing. I sat out on the wide back porch with a glass of OJ pilfered from the continental-breakfast spread and wrote letters as the pine and oak trees creaked in the wind and the sun broke through the scudding clouds.
Now, it's a beautiful fall day, crisp and blue and clear, with none of last week's soggy humidity. A day for hot apple cider and walking through the woods...which is just what's on my agenda once I finish up this week's CSA newsletter. And then, of course, more work on the next book, Breakfast at Steph's Cafe. Challah French toast and Dutch babies for all!
Friday, September 12, 2008
Rain!
It's so beautiful here, I don't know where to start. But start we must, so, Rain! Yes, after many months in mediterranean-dry SF, it's teeming rain here in Eureka Springs. I've got the door open to the porch so I can hear the pitter-pat. It's still muggy and warm out in the early evening, but with the edge-of-Ike thunderstorms coming through tomorrow, maybe the air will stop being quite so wringing wet. But plus side: supergreen, everywhere!
I haven't been here in 2 years (I was last here in June 2006, when I spent a month at this same writers' colony) but it's amazing how completely familiar everything is. I remembered the slightly warped texture of the straw placemats in the kitchen, and the steep steps up to the library, and the funny store that sells only frog-themed tchotckes, and how the shower always drips a little. I think I've had apartments that I was less attached to than this place, my home for only a month.
It helps that NYC was a frantic, sweaty round of packing, mailing, and shoving boxes around. Besides a few dinners, and a nice weekend with my mom, the city part of my trip was pretty businesslike, and mostly involved the less-than-scenic environs of the Brooklyn post office and my storage unit. I did learn than even in hoity-toity Brooklyn Heights, the residents are not so hoity-toity than they won't take free furniture left out on the street. So whoever's living with my baker's rack and kitchen chairs now, thank you! Enjoy!
I haven't been here in 2 years (I was last here in June 2006, when I spent a month at this same writers' colony) but it's amazing how completely familiar everything is. I remembered the slightly warped texture of the straw placemats in the kitchen, and the steep steps up to the library, and the funny store that sells only frog-themed tchotckes, and how the shower always drips a little. I think I've had apartments that I was less attached to than this place, my home for only a month.
It helps that NYC was a frantic, sweaty round of packing, mailing, and shoving boxes around. Besides a few dinners, and a nice weekend with my mom, the city part of my trip was pretty businesslike, and mostly involved the less-than-scenic environs of the Brooklyn post office and my storage unit. I did learn than even in hoity-toity Brooklyn Heights, the residents are not so hoity-toity than they won't take free furniture left out on the street. So whoever's living with my baker's rack and kitchen chairs now, thank you! Enjoy!
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Cooking Workshops in Eureka Springs
Alright, I'm going! NYC tomorrow, Arkansas next week. Which means...you can cook with PQ! I'll be teaching two very fun workshops in a beautiful kitchen in Eureka Springs.
Thursday, Sept 11th, Foolproof Pie Making, and
Sunday, Sept. 14, An Ozark Brunch on the Deck.
The hands-on Sunday brunch class will be particularly lovely, as we'll be cooking together, and then sitting down to enjoy our meal on the beautiful outdoor deck off the kitchen. Mimosas, live music provided!
Info and signup,here. Scroll down to get to the cooking ones...
Friday, August 29, 2008
cupcakery
a few hours, 100 cupcakes later...my freezer is all cupcakes, all the time. Don't try this at home, kids, unless you have a big ol' stand-up mixer. And, preferably, some non-dark muffin pans. Dark pans, it seems, make the bottoms of your cupcakes burn faster, or so said my pal Shar, of Shar's Babycakes, when we were baking 20 dozen cupcakes for a wedding a few weeks ago.
How will these little suckers get iced? Who knows. They're baked, and that's one mountain (of butter & sugar) climbed.
How will these little suckers get iced? Who knows. They're baked, and that's one mountain (of butter & sugar) climbed.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Feed me, Seymour!
My tomatoes love Miracle-Gro! This feels a little like saying "My kids love Big Macs!" (if, you know, I had kids.) But what can I say? I have two tomato plants--Stupice and some kind of cold-loving Russian heirloom cherry--stuck in a couple of pots on the back patio, bought in a fit of farm-longing outside Cole Hardware on Mission Street. There was a big bag of potting soil under the steps behind my house, so I filled up a couple of containers and stuck my little plants in. And there they stayed, stunted and unhappy, doing absolutely nothing. I knew they were sadly in need of some NPK (no new growth, curled-looking yellowish-purple leaves, general ennui), but what to do? The soil was in place, and you can't really amend junky potting soil once it's already in the pot around the plant. So, yes, I copped a quick cheap fix: a spoonful of the blue stuff, dissolved in water, poured over the leaves (foliar feeding!) and into the soil.
Better living through petrochemical byproducts! Just like cake-mix cakes always rise and look perfect, damned if my tomatoes aren't 10x healthier looking just a few days later. They're green, they're growing, they look fat and sassy and they actually have tomatoes on them. And they're looking at me as if they just got a hamburger after two months of olives and soy milk. What were you thinking, they seem to be saying. We needed food! Bad enough you put us out here, with the cold and fog and whiteflies. Then you put us on some no-nitrogen starvation diet?
Of course, they're supposed to get their food from the soil,if it were any good, which clearly it wasn't. I can't blame them; soil is a living thing, and if you leave it in a plastic bag under the porch for years on end, it's not going to be worth much more than the plastic it came in. If I had a real garden, I'd be composting and fish-emulsioning and mulching til the cows came home (yoo-hooo! Bessieeee!!). But for two pots on the concrete, the M-G will have to do.
There are all kinds of metaphors in here, but I'm too written-out to delve into them. Plus, there's the Cupcake Dilemma: in a whimsical moment, I promised my pals M.& D. that I'd make them a wedding cake when they could finally get married legally here (They're longtime gay-marriage activists, and already been been married several times to each other, but we're hoping this time will stay on the books). Now, this promise has morphed into a request for cupcakes for 150. Especially tricky since I'm going to be at Slow Food on Sat and down in Santa Cruz with P. and her family, watching Shakespeare, on Sunday. Which leaves today, tomorrow, and the freezer. I have absolutely no idea how this is going to happen. I'm actually thinking...minicupcakes? Very cute, and well, small! So they could each just get a little dab of icing and sprinkles and be done. We'll see if I can find a million mini-cupcake liners at Safeway.
Also, Arkansas! I'm longing to go back to Eureka Springs, as I've promised to do for a few weeks this sept, but there remains the difficult cash issue. As in, plane tickets=really f'ing expensive these days! Especially going NY-Arkansas, Arkansas-SF. Not sure if I can swing the $700 or so for the plane fare, on top of the $300 or so it will take to stay at the writer's colony for 10 days after my workshops. Seems like a better deal to just come back in a week from NYC on a cheap jetblue fare...ah, what to do.
Better living through petrochemical byproducts! Just like cake-mix cakes always rise and look perfect, damned if my tomatoes aren't 10x healthier looking just a few days later. They're green, they're growing, they look fat and sassy and they actually have tomatoes on them. And they're looking at me as if they just got a hamburger after two months of olives and soy milk. What were you thinking, they seem to be saying. We needed food! Bad enough you put us out here, with the cold and fog and whiteflies. Then you put us on some no-nitrogen starvation diet?
Of course, they're supposed to get their food from the soil,if it were any good, which clearly it wasn't. I can't blame them; soil is a living thing, and if you leave it in a plastic bag under the porch for years on end, it's not going to be worth much more than the plastic it came in. If I had a real garden, I'd be composting and fish-emulsioning and mulching til the cows came home (yoo-hooo! Bessieeee!!). But for two pots on the concrete, the M-G will have to do.
There are all kinds of metaphors in here, but I'm too written-out to delve into them. Plus, there's the Cupcake Dilemma: in a whimsical moment, I promised my pals M.& D. that I'd make them a wedding cake when they could finally get married legally here (They're longtime gay-marriage activists, and already been been married several times to each other, but we're hoping this time will stay on the books). Now, this promise has morphed into a request for cupcakes for 150. Especially tricky since I'm going to be at Slow Food on Sat and down in Santa Cruz with P. and her family, watching Shakespeare, on Sunday. Which leaves today, tomorrow, and the freezer. I have absolutely no idea how this is going to happen. I'm actually thinking...minicupcakes? Very cute, and well, small! So they could each just get a little dab of icing and sprinkles and be done. We'll see if I can find a million mini-cupcake liners at Safeway.
Also, Arkansas! I'm longing to go back to Eureka Springs, as I've promised to do for a few weeks this sept, but there remains the difficult cash issue. As in, plane tickets=really f'ing expensive these days! Especially going NY-Arkansas, Arkansas-SF. Not sure if I can swing the $700 or so for the plane fare, on top of the $300 or so it will take to stay at the writer's colony for 10 days after my workshops. Seems like a better deal to just come back in a week from NYC on a cheap jetblue fare...ah, what to do.
Monday, August 25, 2008
dancing in abundance
Or, in another word, blackberries! Finally walked up to the other side of Bernal Hill, empty yogurt containers in hand, and picked, picked, picked. Many berries were still at the red/sour stage, but I did come home, over 2 days, with a little less than 2 quarts, about enough to make 3 half-pints of jam. This is some high-octane, high-berry-content stuff. And easy--easier!--as pie.
OK, I guess I have to cop to my recent pie-contest experience. I baked, I went, I didn't win. Maybe it was because I chickened out at the last minute, fearing my lard dough was too soft and crumbly, and made a regular all-butter crust instead. Yes, the apples--a mix of gingergolds and gravensteins--were a little soft, but that's early-season apples for you--it's just how they are. Paige and I took the rest of the pie home (after the judges had taken a slice) and I can say, honestly, that it was a really, really nice pie. Not spectacular, but certainly better than the ones I tasted at that same fair, back when I was a judge in 2002. Oh well. We had a lovely time at the fair nonetheless, and I got to chat with the very nice farm manager from Nana Mae, the orchard where I got my gravensteins.
What else? $2/lb heirlooms at the Civic Center farmers' market! Also there: MacDonald Orchards, with $2/lb Pink Pearls, my favorite obscure apple. Cream-colored on the outside, hot candy pink inside, bright and tart. these have a season of about 5 minutes, and make fabulous pink tarts and pink applesauce, so git 'em while you can.
Even better were the jumbo tomatoes and Summer Lady peaches fresh picked (and free!) from the Moraga Farm, a sweet, incredibly productive one-acre farm/garden in, yes, Moraga that's part commercial farm, part community garden. Tomatoes and squash are the farm's cash crops, sold to local fancy restaurants and markets to pay the garden's bills. The rest of the produce goes to everyone--to the locals who help to plant and harvest, to an assisted-living senior facility in the area, an AIDS hospice, a local elementary school, and more. Bartering is the way of the garden. The guy who runs a tree-trimming biz in town came out to the prune the trees earlier this year. His requested payment? Tomatoes. Same with the guys from the nursery. The firefighters who put out a fire at the farm got flats of tomatoes in thanks, too.
Wine works, too. Farmer Al of Frog Hollow Farm donated dozens of peach and nectarine trees, plus the manpower and expertise to get them planted a few years ago. Each spring, he brings a crew of his workers over to help shape the season's vegetable beds. His payment? Some of the (very good) homemade wine that David and the other Moraga farmers make each fall. It's an economy of abundance, especially during this peak of the harvest. Around the full moon each month, friends of the farm come together for a moonlight potluck, anchored around the wood-fired cob pizza oven in one corner of the farm. Pizzas are made, wine is drunk, a farm update is presented, there are dogs and babies, even a campfire.
This time, I got the bright idea to try to bake some peach galettes--with farm peaches!--in the pizza oven. Not such a hot idea, as it turned out, since the oven, heated from below, was just too smokin' hot for this kind of baking. The galettes burned on the bottom before they browned on the top. And the one galette I put aside, for baking later when the oven had cooled off, mysteriously disappeared, seemingly the victim of dough-loving space aliens or a very tidy, intrepid dog, who managed to eat all the raw crust while leaving most of the peaches intact. (Is it too gross to report that I made another galette, using those same possibly dog-licked peaches? And that everyone ate it? Like I said, really hot oven.) But it was (mostly) fun to bake on the fly, even if the disappearing galette did throw me for a loop. Best moment: taking a just-after-dark spin through the tomato plants, candlelit lantern in hand, to smell the roses and tomato leaves, listen to the crickets, and look up at the stars overhead. Abundance, indeed.
**with thanks to Lauren, pastry chef and soon-to-be cookbook author, who introduced me to the farm and all very nice people there**
Foraged Blackberry Jam
I've only ever made this with foraged berries, which usually include a fair number of not-quite-ripe berries, the ones highest in natural pectin. So my jam tends to jell up very easily without lots of extra sugar. If you're using very ripe, sweet berries, you might need a spritz of fresh lemon juice (half a lemon) or a little more sugar for a firm set.
4 cups blackberries
1 cup sugar
Mix berries and sugar, and let sit, stirring occasionally, for a couple of hours. Sterilize a couple of 8 oz jars. Pour berries and liquid (sugar should be dissolved) into a heavy pot. Bring to a foaming simmer and let it simmer gently, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, until berries break down and it looks almost like jam (it should still be a little runny, since it will thicken as it cools, and you don't want it over-thickened and rubbery). Spoon into jars, put on lids, and put in a deep pot with hot water to cover. Simmer 8 minutes, then remove and let cool. Test for seal when completely cool.
OK, I guess I have to cop to my recent pie-contest experience. I baked, I went, I didn't win. Maybe it was because I chickened out at the last minute, fearing my lard dough was too soft and crumbly, and made a regular all-butter crust instead. Yes, the apples--a mix of gingergolds and gravensteins--were a little soft, but that's early-season apples for you--it's just how they are. Paige and I took the rest of the pie home (after the judges had taken a slice) and I can say, honestly, that it was a really, really nice pie. Not spectacular, but certainly better than the ones I tasted at that same fair, back when I was a judge in 2002. Oh well. We had a lovely time at the fair nonetheless, and I got to chat with the very nice farm manager from Nana Mae, the orchard where I got my gravensteins.
What else? $2/lb heirlooms at the Civic Center farmers' market! Also there: MacDonald Orchards, with $2/lb Pink Pearls, my favorite obscure apple. Cream-colored on the outside, hot candy pink inside, bright and tart. these have a season of about 5 minutes, and make fabulous pink tarts and pink applesauce, so git 'em while you can.
Even better were the jumbo tomatoes and Summer Lady peaches fresh picked (and free!) from the Moraga Farm, a sweet, incredibly productive one-acre farm/garden in, yes, Moraga that's part commercial farm, part community garden. Tomatoes and squash are the farm's cash crops, sold to local fancy restaurants and markets to pay the garden's bills. The rest of the produce goes to everyone--to the locals who help to plant and harvest, to an assisted-living senior facility in the area, an AIDS hospice, a local elementary school, and more. Bartering is the way of the garden. The guy who runs a tree-trimming biz in town came out to the prune the trees earlier this year. His requested payment? Tomatoes. Same with the guys from the nursery. The firefighters who put out a fire at the farm got flats of tomatoes in thanks, too.
Wine works, too. Farmer Al of Frog Hollow Farm donated dozens of peach and nectarine trees, plus the manpower and expertise to get them planted a few years ago. Each spring, he brings a crew of his workers over to help shape the season's vegetable beds. His payment? Some of the (very good) homemade wine that David and the other Moraga farmers make each fall. It's an economy of abundance, especially during this peak of the harvest. Around the full moon each month, friends of the farm come together for a moonlight potluck, anchored around the wood-fired cob pizza oven in one corner of the farm. Pizzas are made, wine is drunk, a farm update is presented, there are dogs and babies, even a campfire.
This time, I got the bright idea to try to bake some peach galettes--with farm peaches!--in the pizza oven. Not such a hot idea, as it turned out, since the oven, heated from below, was just too smokin' hot for this kind of baking. The galettes burned on the bottom before they browned on the top. And the one galette I put aside, for baking later when the oven had cooled off, mysteriously disappeared, seemingly the victim of dough-loving space aliens or a very tidy, intrepid dog, who managed to eat all the raw crust while leaving most of the peaches intact. (Is it too gross to report that I made another galette, using those same possibly dog-licked peaches? And that everyone ate it? Like I said, really hot oven.) But it was (mostly) fun to bake on the fly, even if the disappearing galette did throw me for a loop. Best moment: taking a just-after-dark spin through the tomato plants, candlelit lantern in hand, to smell the roses and tomato leaves, listen to the crickets, and look up at the stars overhead. Abundance, indeed.
**with thanks to Lauren, pastry chef and soon-to-be cookbook author, who introduced me to the farm and all very nice people there**
Foraged Blackberry Jam
I've only ever made this with foraged berries, which usually include a fair number of not-quite-ripe berries, the ones highest in natural pectin. So my jam tends to jell up very easily without lots of extra sugar. If you're using very ripe, sweet berries, you might need a spritz of fresh lemon juice (half a lemon) or a little more sugar for a firm set.
4 cups blackberries
1 cup sugar
Mix berries and sugar, and let sit, stirring occasionally, for a couple of hours. Sterilize a couple of 8 oz jars. Pour berries and liquid (sugar should be dissolved) into a heavy pot. Bring to a foaming simmer and let it simmer gently, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, until berries break down and it looks almost like jam (it should still be a little runny, since it will thicken as it cools, and you don't want it over-thickened and rubbery). Spoon into jars, put on lids, and put in a deep pot with hot water to cover. Simmer 8 minutes, then remove and let cool. Test for seal when completely cool.
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