An affair to remember

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Cookbook, NPR

I’m having an affair. A somewhat scandalous one. And it is completely supported by my husband.

So, a not-so-secret affair, then.

With whom, you ask? Well after hearing interview an interview with Deb Perelman on the Diane Rehm show a few months ago (I spend a lot of time in the car and have listened to disproportionate amount of NPR in the last 2 years), I starting browsing the Smitten Kitchen website for her recipes and her prose, too. Because that’s how good her recipes sounded on the radio. You can listen to the interview here.

Now Smitten Kitchen is a giant in the food blogosphere. And after sampling her wares, it begs the question: how did I not find this before? Because everything has been awesome. And thoughtful. And well-written.

And then, for Christmas, my husband gave me the cookbook. Which was not even on my wishlist. But has definitely been to the benefit of my marriage. Some of the recipes are from the website and some are unique to the cookbook. All are well-tested, have yet to flop at my house and the photography makes me want to take better pictures. All this is to say that it’s a cookbook that gets used and is likely to get used for the foreseeable future.

Here’s a partial list of the yummies that have made it to the table in the past little while:

Buttermilk Roast Chicken

Peach and Sour Cream Pancakes (with strawberries, because that’s what was in our co-op basket)

Whole Lemon Bars

Tomato Meatloaves

Roasted Carrot and Avocado Salad

Cheddar Swirl Breakfast Buns.

Droolishiciousness. That’s a word.

So a little review of a book by someone who wouldn’t know me from a cactus. But it’s really about this: friends don’t let friends not know about good cookbooks. Now go forth and cook!

 

 

 

 

Related articles

• Smitten Kitchen cookbook taps food blog success (cbc.ca)

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Knead-free bread. But not mess free.

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bread

I really don’t mean this to be a food blog, but it seems like whenever I have time to write something, it inevitably ends up being about food.

But it doesn’t matter. Because this bread is REVELATORY.

Yes, I said it. (Or at least I wrote it).

And I made it, then I ate it.

This is what it looked like before I ate it:

I don’t have an after photo. We ate the whole stinking thing up in a few hours.

I’d been avoiding the whole no-knead bread before, mainly because I couldn’t be bothered to buy the “right” kind of yeast. The instant stuff that people use in bread machines, if you must know. Lo and behold, I was cruising around the interwebs and found out that I could use my normal Active Dry stuff.

Recipe-wise, I followed the instructions on the Smitten Kitchen, but instead of using 1/4 tsp of instant yeast, I used 1/3 tsp of active dry. I also used bread flour and not all-purpose, mainly because we’re high and dry up here. Everything else I kept the same. And you should be forewarned, I still found this pretty messy and managed to get flour all over my newly cleaned stove top. But apparently sticky is good for the yeasty-beasties! Also, while it takes a lot of time, it’s not actually time-consuming. That being said, it’s a perfect, lazy-weekend-at-home kind of project.

Here’s the recipe, from smitten kitchen. And probably other places, too.

Yields one 1 1/2 pound loaf

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting
1/4 teaspoon instant yeast/1/3 tsp active dry yeast
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.

1. Mix together flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70F/21C.

2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.

3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your hands, gently (and quickly) shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.

4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450°F. Smitten Kitchen says to put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. I only had a 2.5L casserole on hand and that’s why mine a little oddly shaped. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.

The Verdict: Fantabulous. Stupendifying. European loaf of goodness in the my Desert Town, USA kitchen. Crunchy crust and airy, bubbly middle. And four very happy boulangerie customers for lunch.

UPDATE: I tried dividing the dough in two so I could have two smaller loaves. It worked beautifully. You’ll just need a second casserole dish, but then the dishes don’t have to be as big as in the original recipe.

A cup of Chai? Why yes, I think so.

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Tea

Things in the desert are cooling down. Moderately. It doesn’t really feel like Fall, especially if you’re used to trees turning outrageous colors or the nip of frost on the pumpkin.

That doesn’t happen here in October.

But, the nights gets cool, if not down right chilly and we wake up in the morning with some kind of anticipation of something, even if we end up playing in the sprinklers in the afternoon and sucking on popsicle.

So with this in mind, I present what I whipped up on a recent pretend-Fall morning.

When I was in between university and high school, I spent a summer working as a barista at this local coffee place on the old main street of the town where I grew up. The kind of place with sagging couches, poetry readings on Tuesday night and folk jams on Saturdays. Best summer job ever. At the time, though, I didn’t drink coffee. But I’d drink chai, and a few weeks ago, I started having cravings for it. Not that iced stuff that you get at Starbucks, with frappé whatever, but nice, hot chai tea.

So I made some. And this is what I did:

1/2 tsp ground cardamom (or 8 cardamom seeds)

8 cloves

4 black peppercorns

2 cinnamon sticks

1 1-inch pice of fresh ginger, sliced

2 cups milk, 2% or whole (but not skim)

4 bags Darjeeling

Sugar, to taste (or honey, if you prefer)

Crush cardamom, cloves and peppercorn with a mortar and pestle or with a rolling-pin and a heavy plastic bag. If I was doing it again, I’d prefer a little less pepper flavour, so I might leave them whole. Place crushed spices, cinnamon sticks, ginger, milk+2 cups of water in a saucepan and bring to just a boil. Add tea bags, cover and let steep for about 10 minutes. Strain into cups. Add sugar to taste (I used over a tsp per cup, but you might want more).

The Verdict: Fragrant and comforting. A good straining method is imperative so you don’t feel like you’re swallowing bark with your tea. I’m not sure how authentic this is, but it work for a chai fix.

 

 

A Leeky Problem

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Chickpea, Leek

I’m not posting about Thanksgiving today because we didn’t have any time to celebrate. I makes me sad that we couldn’t and also tat we couldn’t be with friends and family for turkey and pie. Especially the pie. But we might do a little turkey time next week-end and if we do, there’ll be something delicious posted here on Monday.

We belong to a food co-op and it’s fantastic. But I had deadline fast approaching and the leeks were still in my crisper drawer. Which is to say, I forgot about them until the day before we were supposed to pick up our share of fruits and veg.

So I whipped up a little something to please my inner frugalista and not waste my leeks (or in this case, leek, singular) and feed the little people. I’m lucky enough not to have super picky little people, but little c definitely has more preferences than his older sister. He will eat chickpeas and sweet, green peas, though. And noodles. What 2-year-old doesn’t like noodles?

This is what I came up with:

Leek, Legume and Lemon Thyme pasta

12 oz. short pasta of your choice (I used farfalle – to the little people, they look like bow ties for tiny clowns)

1 cup frozen peas

1 can (or equivalent) chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1 Tablespoon butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 leek (2 if you like) cut in half lengthwise, sliced and rinsed.

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

3/4 cup whole milk or heavy cream

Parmesan or pecorino romano, if you prefer

In a pot of boiling, salted water, cook pasta until al dente, adding the peas and chickpeas for the last 2 minutes. Meanwhile, heat the oil  and butter in a large pan. Add leeks and sauté until soft (about 3-5 minutes). Season with salt and pepper. Add the milk/ cream and cook for 2-4 minutes, until reduced slightly. Toss pasta and a little of the pasta water with the cream and leek mixture. Serve with grated parmesan and the lemon thyme sprinkle on top.

The Verdict: Earthy and good. I’d like a little more color, but not bad for using up what I had in the fridge. And the little people ate it up. Winning.

Will it chip?: Part 3

I promise at some point I will get to non-leafy green things, but for now I’m doing an exhaustive study.

Collard greens.

Hmmmhave I ever had collard greens in my house? ‘Round ’bout these parts, we eat pretty healthy. Kale, spinach, mustard greens, swiss chard. But collards? I’d always understood them to be a south of the Mason-Dixon line sort of thing. I’m from north of 40. So there you go

Upon further examination, I decided to use the slow and low method that I’ve perfect with my Tuscan kale. And this is what came out:

Washed and dry (thoroughly!), tear into chip-sized pieces and toss with olive oil. Spread over parchment, sprinkle a bit of sea salt and roast at 250F for about 30-35 minutes.

Verdict: Still awesome. They have more of a nori/seaweed texture to them than the kale or brussels sprouts and a slightly nuttier flavor while being really delicate. Yay!

Urban Farm Extravaganza! OK, I might be overstating that a little.

Tags

Container, Garden

 

I would love to have a garden. A real, honest-to-goodness vegetable garden like the one my Mum had at our first house. She fed us, my uncle’s family, my grandparents and anybody who strayed over to our house, summer upon summer.

Until we moved. From the Prairies to Ontario and the town/city where we lived was a 15 minutes drive from the vegetable basket of Canada. So, no more veggies (excepting some half-hearted rhubarb and asparagus patches) and in came lots of pretty flowers and shrubbery.

Not that I minded, but I really wasn’t interested. Belly first!

So even though we live in the desert and my thumb is at best a blackish sort of grey, we decided to do a little bit of container gardening. I wanted the Little People to see that food doesn’t randomly and generically appear at some supermarket. Some things were spectacularly successful and some things were spectacular failures.

This was one of the successes:

Who’da thunk that carrots would have worked in a container? Not I.

We also discovered that basil, lemon thyme and swiss chard were desert container garden superstars.

Our flubs? The lettuce got burnt by the sun and was so peppery as to be inedible. Blech. We also had some pollination issues over at our house. Apparently all the bees hang out in the pond at the front of our house and not at the back. Not cool enough for you, eh? Both varieties of tomatoes (cherry and patio sized) grew well and made lots of flowers, those flowers didn’t always bear fruit. Same story with our japanese cucumbers. By the time I found out how to, erm, hand pollinate my cukes and tomatoes, it was kind of too late in the season to do so. That, and I couldn’t stop cackling long enough to find a q-tip.

So we live and learn and know what to do next year. In the mean time, the Little People and I have had fun watching the little buds come up from the soil and decorating the pots with sidewalk chalk and watching it all get drenched in the monsoon rains so we could do it all over again. Regardless of what worked and what didn’t work, it was a good growing season.

 

 

Will it chip? Part 2.

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Brussels sprout

My son doesn’t eat veggies.

This is really embarassing to admit. We actually eat a variety of healthy food at our house. Local and organic when possible or feasible. Little M is the epitome of a fabulous eater. She will try everything and continue eating about 99% of it. She cleans her plate and never complains.

Little C is definitely his own person. But I digress.

We have had enormous success feeding him veggie “chips” or as he says it “tsips”. And this was no exception.

Brussels Sprouts!

He loves these like dogs like rolling in smelly things. They’re that good.

We’ve tried these a few ways: low and slow, high and quick. I think it depends on how much moisture you have in the sprout leaves and how much crunchy versus chewy you go for.

Here’s what we did:

Remove as many of the outer leaves from your brussels sprouts as possible. This might require cutting the stem periodically. Wash and dry thoroughly. Preheat oven to 300F. Toss with good quality olive oil and lay out in a single layer on some parchment paper on a baking sheet. Dust with salt (or pepper or herbs or parmesan cheese: you get the picture) to taste. Bake for 20 minutes, checking to see if they’re getting too brown too quickly. If so, turn the heat down and possibly increase the time. Testing one or two chips is always an option to know where you are in the scheme of things.

Verdict: Not quite as crunchy or delicate as the kale chips, but still quite delectable. Devoured by all. It chips!

Will it chip? Part 1.

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Kale

So, I’m starting a series. Which is pretty pretentious after only 18 posts, but there you go.

I profess to loving most junk food in all forms (except black licorice – blech). But it there was a stand-out winner in my Junkfood Olympics, it is chips.

Ah, potato chips, how I love thee. Salty, crunchy, fatty. Downright delectable. Tortilla chips will do in a pinch. What’s not to love?

A pile of potato chips. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well, maybe the fact that they’re bad for you. Because they are. And speaking as someone who can almost eat an entire large-sized bag in a day, given time and opportunity, it’s really bad. It’s also a good thing I can’t get Miss Vicky’s down here in the desert.

So I went a-hunting and found to my utter astonishment that kale chips are a thing. At least an internet thing. But not like Rebecca Black or the Hamster Dance, so don’t worry. And thanks to our lovely co-op, I had two emerald-green bunches of Tuscan kale taking up space in my fridge. Yippee!

So I took something that look like this:

Lacinato (Photo credit: anthimeria)

And made something like this:

Ok. They’re not pretty, but please don’t say that too loud: they might hear and never want to come and play at my house again.

Tuscan (Lacinato) kale is slightly different from the usual kale you find in a supermarket. The leaves are sort of all-over curly instead of just towards the ends. Still, they’re awesome and you can use whatever you have access to whenever you crave this. Here’s the recipe:

1 bunch kale, washed, thoroughly dried and torn into bite-sized pieces

1-2 tablespoons good quality olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

I can’t stress this part enough: your kale must be perfectly dry before you begin. Nobody likes soggy chips, especially if they’re green. Put your torn-up DRY kale in a bowl, pour the olive oil on it and toss with you hands. Cut a piece of parchment paper to the correct size for your rimmed cookie sheet (or jelly roll pan). Spread kale evenly over sheet, trying to get it in a single layer. Sprinkle salt/pepper from about 12-18 inches overhead (this helps you salt evenly). Bake at 250F for 30 minutes. Eat while still warm and crispy.

Verdict: While your house will smell like cabbage, your mouth and your waistline will thank you. Crunchy, savory, and my non-veggie eating Little C ate it like it was going out of style. It chips!

Potatoes rule.

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Bacon, Potato

I heart baked potatoes. The ones smothered in butter and sour cream and bacon and cheese. In fact, when I once worked (for two whole weeks!) at an un-named fast food restaurant in high school, that’s pretty much the only thing I would eat there. And only after I’d made it with my own two hands.

But what I don’t like about baked potatoes is the time and heat factor. We live in Small Desert Town, USA, where the summer temps can certainly be stifling and there’s no way on God’s green earth that I’m going to heat up an oven for any length of time. Baked potatoes, those packets of perfection, often take at least an hour in the oven. And before anyone tries to tell me that you can reduce your baking time or eliminate it completely by using the microwave, I would ask, “have you actually tasted a potato cooked like that?” They’re disastrous. Soggy and not fluffy. With a skin that speaks more to my experience with shoe leather and less with heaven.

So here is my summer/sanity compromise: Fully loaded potato salad. All the calories and none of the sweat. Wait, that doesn’t sound right…

Fully loaded potato salad. Yes.

Here’s the recipe (adapted from Canadian Living):

3.5 pounds potatoes (I like Yukon Gold and am somewhat ecstatic that I can buy them again after an 8 year hiatus)

1 cup sour cream (you can use light/low-fat if you’re into that…I’m not)

3/4 cup mayo (ditto)

1/2 teaspoon each salt and pepper

3/4 cup shredded old cheddar

4 slices thick bacon, cooked and crumbled

3 tablespoons finely chopped green onions (you can use chives, if you prefer)

Wash and dice potatoes. Boil in lightly salted water until tender but not falling apart (12-15 minutes – depending on size). Cool.

In a large bowl, combine sour cream, mayo, salt and pepper. Add cooled potatoes and toss to coat. Sprinkle with cheese, bacon and onions. If you’re feeling really fancy, you can do this individual serving and then set out of the table for your resident hungry people.

The Verdict: Splendiforous. But not an every day or every week meal/side dish. Perfectly satisfies my craving without heating up my kitchen.

A healthier granola bar? Maybe.

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food, Mark Bittman

I don’t agree with anybody 100%, but Mark Bittman is absolutely right about one thing: store-bought granola bars are a hair’s breadth away from chocolate bars or candy bars, as my American friends call them. But they’re so dang convenient. And so long as they have oat-like properties about them, you can justify them because after all, at least they have a bit more fibre than a Snickers bar.

A chewy chocolate chip granola bar made by Keebler. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) How is this not a candy bar?

Let’s repeat that last bit, shall we?

A bit more fibre than a Snickers bar.

An actual Snickers candy bar. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Just because something isn’t as unhealthy as something else doesn’t make it healthy or even close. I have absolutely no problem with people treating themselves and eating unhealthy things as long as they admit it’s unhealthy and don’t mutter something lame like “everything in moderation” or “there are no bad foods”. I also freely admit that I love food, love trying food and definitely have my own junk food cravings that I fall prey to more often than I’d like.

Granola is actually one of my junk food cravings. So I set off on a quest to first make my own granola and second to make my own granola bars. I used Mark Bittman’s granola recipe (which you can find here) and can safely say that I will never make homemade granola again. I followed the directions to a “T” and I feel it’s A) too time consuming and B) just can’t seem to master the critical point where the granola is golden brown and baked before it gets a burnt edge to it. C’est la vie. But the granola bar thing, I’ll do that forever.

So here’s what it turned out like:

Homemade Granola Bars

And they’re delicious, too.

Here’s the recipe, adapted from Mark Bittman

1/2 cut raw almond butter (or nut butter of your choice)

1/3 cup honey

1 cup crispy rice cereal

1 cup granola

1/2 cup chopped nuts of your choice (almonds, walnuts, etc. I used pecans because it was what I had on hand)

1/2 dried fruit of your choice, chopped (I used apricots)

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup of chopped chocolate – optional (it was tasty, but it all melted and I’d leave this out next time)

Vegetable oil for greasing

Melt the almond butter and honey in a saucepan together over low heat, stirring frequently. Mix the remaining ingredients together in a medium to large bowl. Add butter mixture to bowl and stir to combine.

Place a little oil in the bottom of a 9″ square pan and then drap a length of plastic wrap over this. Dump granola bar mixture into pan, over the wrap. Press down until fairly even. Cover with another sheet of wrap and leave to set, about an hour in the fridge.

Verdict – With ready-made granola, these are the same difficulty and time commitment as rice crispy treats. And they are much more awesome for you. Also, the variations are pretty much endless. Enjoy.