Archive for August, 2011
I know, it seems rather over-economical and grandmotherly, doesn’t it? Even though my own grandma mostly baked – I don’t recall any pickles, unless I’ve blotted them from my memory in favour of butter tarts and marmalade cookies.
I’ve been home for 4 days, in the kitchen a lot, but without much to show for it.
I know I told you already that I was in Saskatchewan last week, but I don’t think I showed you this. Doesn’t it make you want to take a drive through the countryside? Perhaps in search of the ultimate peroghy? Seems like a reasonable research topic, don’t you think? I want to lie in this field.
Or maybe frolic through it.
I came home to a wild garden – much of it beaten by hail or ravaged by whatever hungry things live back there. My cabbage was enormous, but had been eaten down to a skeleton – inside, all that was left were the ribs. Had it survived, it could have fed a village. This is not an optical illusion-it was almost big as W.
The weeds did just fine, and escaped any damage. Some were as tall as me.
The chard survived, but there’s a lot of it. August might become Chard Month.
We reached into our first-planted potato condo and brought up a handful of thin-skinned baby spuds.
Which got simmered, then tossed around in a hot cast iron skillet after a flat iron steak had its turn. Then the chard.
We went to the food truck launch on Stephen Avenue on Thursday, along with several thousand other people. Which meant unfortunately there wasn’t any eating at said launch. (For us, anyway.)
We went to the dog park to walk in the river, and brought s’mores from Crave.
We went to check out Aviv’s new Sidewalk Citizen kitchen, which, by the way, is OPEN TO THE PUBLIC on Fridays and Saturdays. And if you go, you’ll find freshly baked things like these nearly two-foot-long breadsticks made from croissant dough, cheese and nigella seeds. Oh my.
There. You’re caught up on the past four days, more or less. There were also plenty of eggs, fried in the cast iron skillet once the wilted chard was pushed aside. With sourdough toast.
And each time I sauteed a batch of chard in a skiff of canola oil with a dab of butter and a few sliced garlic cloves, I kept the stems to pickle. I had these in mind for a certain pickle party that crept past as I was frolicking in the above field, eating fresh lentils straight from their pods.
If you do a lot of pickling, you may not even need directions; just cut your chard stems into lengths slightly smaller than your jar and pour your choice of pickling liquid over them. Pickling is the new jamming, it seems. Not a bad thing – perhaps if I make less jam and more pickles, I won’t eat quite as much bread and butter.
Pickled Chard Stems
Adapted from Gramercy Tavern’s Michael Anthony, by way of Local Kitchen.
1-2 bunches chard stems
1 cup rice vinegar
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup sugar
2 Tbsp pickling salt
1 Tbsp pickling spices
Trim the ends of the chard stems and slice into sticks the height of your jar minus 1/2-inch for head space. Slice larger stems in half, or in thirds, lengthwise, so that each is approximately the same size. Pack them into clean, hot jars.
In a small saucepan, combine the vinegars, water, sugar, salt and spices and bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve sugar and salt. Pour over the chard stems, leaving a half inch headspace. Wipe rim, seal and refrigerate for up to a month.
August 14 2011 | preserves | 9 Comments »
(And Jennifer, and their girls.)
The internet let out a collective sob this week as news came of the sudden death of the husband of a fellow food writer and blogger, Jennifer Perillo. She had been tweeting last Sunday morning about preserves, putting up marinara sauce and plans for summer holidays. That afternoon, he was gone. It was a shocking and sad reminder of how fragile life is, and how any of our worlds can change in a minute. And we don’t always see it coming.
The flurry of love and support from the food community made me proud and teary and happy – everyone longed to do what they could. And so with heavy hearts, bakers all over the world are making peanut butter pies today in memory of Mikey – a request Jennie made, that as she spends Friday reflecting on the love and life that was gone in an instant, we all celebrate life by baking Mikey’s favourite pie and hugging the ones we love. Done.
When you can’t do anything else, you can bake a pie.
Funny – it’s almost the same peanut butter pie I requested for my birthday last year, and that my Mikey made for me. (I think his looks better than mine, actually.) I haven’t topped it with chocolate and peanuts yet – it’s destined to come along to a barbecue tonight with good friends we haven’t seen in far too long, and we need to stop for prosecco and peanuts on the way. (It seems fitting to post this quickly and get on over to share it with friends.)
Food Network has posted a round-up of the hundreds of pies that are being baked today with Mikey and Jen and their daughters in hearts and thoughts. Lots of great words are accompanying those pies. I wish I could come up with better words. I think they’ve all been said.
Tod and Diane created a beautiful video. One of the best I’ve seen.
And as I type, W is intermittently crawling into my lap with books he’s learning to read, and reading to me. Those are important words. That’s the whole point.
I didn’t have chocolate cookie crumbs, but did have a couple sleeves of those oatmeal peanut butter Pirate sandwich cookies – W asked for them for our car trip, but they didn’t get eaten. Perfect. Blitzed them in the food processor with some melted butter. All you need are crumbs and enough butter (or oil) to hold them together if you squeeze the crumbs in your hands.
I didn’t have icing sugar either, but sweetened condensed milk is plenty sweet, so added 1/4 cup regular sugar instead. It worked just fine.
You can find Jennie’s original recipe at her website.
Creamy Peanut Butter Pie
1 1/2 cups chocolate or graham cookie crumbs
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/2 cup finely chopped chocolate or semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup whipping cream
8 oz cream cheese, at room temp.
1 cup creamy peanut butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 – 14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
chocolate shavings or sauce and chopped salted peanuts, for garnish
In a small bowl, stir together the cookie crumbs and butter; press into the bottom and up the sides of a pie plate or 9-inch springform pan.
Melt the chocolate in the microwave or a small bowl, and pour over the bottom of the crust. Refrigerate it while you make the filling.
Beat the cream until stiff peaks form; set aside. Place the cream cheese and peanut butter in a deep bowl and beat on medium speed until light and fluffy. Beat in the sugar, sweetened condensed milk and vanilla, beating until the filling is smooth.
Gently fold 1/3 of the whipped cream into the filling mixture, then fold in the remaining whipped cream. Pour the filling over the crust and refrigerate for three hours or overnight before serving topped with chocolate and crushed peanuts. Serves 8-10 friends.
August 12 2011 | dessert | 7 Comments »
I know, zucchini season isn’t quite here yet. But it will be very soon, and there will be armloads of those delicious little (or ginormous) summer squashes to tend to. Unfortunately, they can’t all be made into brownies. (Yes, I’ve tried.)
Good news: they make pretty fabulous fries, with the help of some beaten egg and crunchy panko (Japanese breadcrumbs) to give them a crunchy exterior. The result – crispy fries with a great exterior and soft interior. If you have kids (or teens) around, they’ll go fast.
Because this is a project I was asked to do with The Motherhood and Lawry’s seasoning salt, I posted the recipe over on a brand-new page I’ve dubbed blog flog. Check out the photos and recipe there!
August 12 2011 | appetizers and veg | 5 Comments »
I’m in the Saskatoon airport. (My favourite airport in the world – small, never any lineups, a Tim Horton’s right beside the security gate, which likewise never has lineups. Cushy seats with plugins beside or under each seat, and fast, free wireless. Shouldn’t this be LA?)
I’ve just finished a 3 day tour of pulse farms and production facilities in rural Saskatchewan with Sue and a group of writers and researchers. Lunch today was at Simon’s Fine Foods, where we had a sort of hands-on cooking lesson with various pulses.
We were divvied into groups, and I got to cook with Sue and Cynthia Sass (check her out with Martha and Rachel!), but really mostly Cynthia and I chatted and I took photos while Sue did all the work.
Wait, you don’t know what a pulse is? Don’t sweat it – most of us outside the UK aren’t familiar with the term. I’m hoping Jamie will start cooking with them a little more often, so the term becomes as familiar as he made rocket. Outside of the gym, the term pulse refers to legumes – lentils, peas, chickpeas and beans. (You can learn more about pulses on the Saskatchewan Pulse Growers website.)
We’re continuing our research, learning more about how and where legumes are grown and how they’re processed by tramping about in fields, eating fresh lentils straight from their pods, talking to farmers and nutrition researchers and processors and cooks. It’s all very fascinating, and we now know more about how lentils are grown than we probably ever thought we would.
The release date of Spilling the Beans, by the way, is September 21. My parents’ anniversary. (A good omen I think, considering they’ve enjoyed a long and healthy marriage, and have taken to snuggling and smooching even more lately. Blech.)
****
(OK, I wrote all that last night, got home at around midnight and discovered that I yet again left a small but essential cord -the one that connects camera and computer- in my hotel room. So sorry for the time lapse while I found another cord. I’m not actually in the Saskatoon airport anymore.)
Moroccan Chickpeas with Roasted Peppers, Parsley & Mint
Recipe courtesy of Saskatchewan Pulse Growers and Simon’s Fine Foods
canola oil, for cooking
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
2 tsp cumin
1 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cayenne
1 Tbsp grated fresh ginger
2 garlic cloves, crushed
1 small can tomato paste
2 Tbsp raisins
1 Tbsp chopped dried apricots (we used more!)
4 cups cooked chickpeas (keep the cooking liquid)
1 roasted red pepper, chopped
2 Tbsp chopped fresh mint leaves
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley (we used more!)
juice of a lemon
In a large skillet, saute the onion in a skiff of canola oil over medium-high heat until soft. Add the cumin, coriander, turmeric, cardamom, nutmeg and cayenne and cook for a minute.
Add the garlic and ginger and cook for 30 seconds. Add the tomato paste, raisins and apricots and a splash of cooking liquid (or tomato juice) and bring to a simmer – it should be saucy. Add the chickpeas to the pan and stir to coat. Cook for a bit to cook off any excess liquid if need be. Add the red pepper, mint and parsley and squeeze over the lemon. Toss to combine and serve warm or refrigerate until chilled – allowing the mixture to marinate for a few hours (or a day) will help the flavours improve. Makes lots.
August 11 2011 | beans | 16 Comments »
Yesterday was our last day in Tofino, and still I hadn’t really made anything summery, except maybe one huckleberry crumble. No plum butter cake or crostata or pie. I had been waiting to do something with the summer apricots and cherries abundant at Beaches grocery when I was not at risk of passing on my phlegmy flu. It’s still hanging on – in fact, it turned around and took another run at me.
There were 12 people in the house, most of them kids, and only one of those kids not a boy 8 or under. Everyone kept buying cherries. There were bags everywhere, and stray cherries left on plates at almost every meal. This was made like most any upside-down cake, with butter and brown sugar in the bottom of the pan, this time with a wee splash of balsamic vinegar – a hit of acid makes a big difference, but feel free to use lemon juice instead. (In fact, feel free to swap the cherries for thickly sliced apricots or peaches or plums.) The cherries go almost as dark as prunes.
The fruit starts to cook down as you mix up the cornmeal batter, which you then pour over the fruit and bake. What else can you do when it feels like your brain is trying to escape from your head through your face?
Cherry Cornmeal Upside-Down Cake
Adapted from Bon Appétit
1/2 cup butter, divided
1/4 cup canola or other mild vegetable oil
1/4 cup (packed) dark brown sugar
2 tsp balsamic vinegar
3 cups halved, pitted fresh Bing cherries or other dark sweet cherries
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup yellow cornmeal
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup sugar (or half sugar, half brown sugar)
2 large eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup milk
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Place 1/4 cup butter with brown sugar and vinegar in a 9-inch cake pan or cast iron skillet; set in the oven until melted, then stir until smooth and add the cherries. Return to the oven while you mix up the cake batter – the cherries will start to soften and release their juices.
In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, beat the remaining 1/4 cup butter, oil and sugar for a minute or two, until starting to get pale and fluffy; beat in the eggs and vanilla.
Add the flour in three additions, alternating with the milk in two additions, beating just until incorporated after each. Spoon batter over the cherries in the pan or skillet, and spread to cover the cherries.
Bake cake until top is golden and springy to the touch, about 45 minutes. Cool for about 5 minutes, then run spatula around the edges of the cake to loosen. Invert onto a serving plate while it’s still warm.
August 08 2011 | cake | 13 Comments »
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