Orange and Prune Granola

Sometime in the middle of this winter, when it seemed like it would be cold forever, I remembered the “Year with No Summer.” It had happened, I reminded friends over drinks. It could happen again. It seemed like a bitter joke in February. Sure, in 1816 it snowed in June in New York, but was I really that worried? Eh.

The farmers market came back to our neighborhood last week, and I began to reconsider. Where was the rhubarb? The asparagus? Usually full tables had a small selection of kale, a few remaining beets, and some ramps to tease us about the possibility of spring. It was May, but I realized that I, along with everyone else, was there in a fleece and sneakers.

Although it seems like we may have finally turned a corner (knock on wood), for a while there it looked like another year with no summer–or at least with no spring–was here. My fruit bowl looked sadder and sadder–filled with bananas and a few bedraggled oranges. I defrosted some frozen apple compote I made this fall. I finally caved and bought a lot of dried fruit. And that is how this granola was born.

Sure, an orange and prune granola seems more suitable for December than May. With a touch of cinnamon and citrus and a mixture of prunes, pecans, and figs, when you make this granola next December–because you will want to make it again–it will taste nice and seasonal and fruit cake-y. In the meantime, in this Year of the Very, Very Late Spring, you can use up your remaining oranges and clear your cabinet of dried fruit once and for all with this recipe. It’s excellent by the handful and even better on top of some yogurt with a little apple compote stirred in, especially when accompanied by a cup of milky coffee and a round of morning editing.

Toasted Sesame Oil Hummus

I know that no one actually needs a recipe for hummus,  much less two recipes for hummus (+ another two for “very think chickpea soups”) on one blog. But, about a month ago, I had a hummus revelation so I feel compelled to share.

Four of us had stumbled into a restaurant after a day of trekking around Boston with a large bag of persimmons in tow (thanks persimmon carrying friends!). When we finally got seated 45 minutes later, it was well past ten, and I was ready to go all cookie-monster on those persimmons. The only thing restraining me was the sure knowledge that a cookie-monster-like attack on a bag of persimmons in a crowded restaurant would end in certain and swift removal before I got anymore food.

Fortunately, we were presented with a plate full of hummus while we “looked at the menu” (read: demanded they bring us our pre-selected orders immediately). And, though anything would have tasted good at that moment, the hummus really seemed like something special.

After a bit of debate, we decided that the restaurant had substituted sesame oil for tahini. It was genius. As I have mentioned before, I dislike tahini in my hummus. I think it weighs it down and overpowers the chickpeas. The sesame oil embraces the fact that sesame and chickpeas go well together while creating something lighter and smokier all at once.

When I tried making it at home, it was as good as I remembered, even with judgement unclouded by hunger.

On Snacking (and Sichuan Peppercorn Popcorn)

I am a snacker. I have spent years of my life wishing it were otherwise. I have set rules about how often I can snack and what I can snack on–once an afternoon, only after 7:00; celery, green apples, nuts. But, honestly, I love snacks. And, not celery. I devour boxes of crackers; I try not to let chips in the house. And, since this post is turning into a bit of a confessional, I really, really love anything covered in fake powdered cheese.

As with most things, I blame my parents. As two busy people who valued family dinners and extremely fine cooking, my parents long, long ago embraced a European–bordering on Argentinian–meal schedule. “It’s only civilized,” they say. Projected dinner time falls somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00 in their house. And, my mother, phenomenal cook that she is, has never gotten a meal on the table until at least half-an-hour after her goal.

Eating this late, even if you push lunch back, requires snacking. So, as a child, I got very good at it. But, since it was the early ’90s and the powers that be had yet to develop a plethora of organic snacking options, “healthy” snacking consisted of a lot of “baked” versions of generally fried snacks. Baked not fried bugles were a favorite. For years, my family stocked an early form of “healthy” cheese doodles that resembled nothing so much as packaging foam. But, since none of these things were very good, it seemed that we were often the only people buying them. Eventually, they would disappear from the shelves of our grocery store. One favorite after another, gone.

I blame the sudden disappearance of so many favorite snacks for giving me snack commitment issues. These days, I will discover a new cracker, puffed chip, or crunchy veggie, devour it happily for months, and then, just like that, it seems like something is missing. I jump ship, onto the next thing.

For the last few months, after years of feeling kind of eh about popcorn, I have been on a real bender. After moving from the fake cheese stuff to the lightly salted variety, it became embarrassing to be buying what I knew I could easily make at home. So I bought some kernels.

As they popped, I had a revaluation. I had just returned from Chicago with bags full of new spices. I didn’t have powdered cheese, but I did have sichuan peppercorns and dried orange peel. This popcorn had all kinds of potential.

I experimented with a bunch of spice combinations in my first few popcorn batches, but I’ve settled on two favorites: Sichuan Peppercorn Popcorn and Orange-Thyme Butter Popcorn. The former gives your regularly salted popcorn a kick along with hints of floral citrus. The latter tastes like movie popcorn grown up. Neither takes more than 10 minutes to make if you have the ingredients on hand.

I’ll probably move on in a few months, but until I do, Sichuan Peppercorn Popcorn will help me make it to dinner time, whenever that is.

These aren’t really recipes so much as suggested spice combinations. Pop the popcorn as you usually do–I generally pop about half a cup of kernels at a time and then have enough or a few days. Here are some excellent popping instructions if you need them: http://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/perfect_popcorn/

For Sichuan Peppercorn Popcorn: While your kernels pop combine about a teaspoon of salt with 5 or 6 peppercorns in a mortar and pestle and mash together. Toss with popcorn a little bit at a time until salted and spiced to taste. 

For Orange-Thyme Butter Popcorn: While your kernels pop, melt a tablespoon of butter in the microwave. Stir in a large pinch of thyme and a small pinch of dried orange peel. Pour butter mixture over popcorn and toss lightly to coat popcorn–again, I do this a little at a time until I think my popcorn is sufficiently flavorful. Any leftover butter is delicious on almost everything. 

No Such Thing As Vacation

Growing up one of my father’s mantra was, “There’s no such thing as vacation; just different places to work.” While I am generally not a rebellious child–more likely to accept parental wisdom as law than to question–I have never fully embraced this vacation doctrine.

So the fact that this Spring Break came not with a flight to somewhere warm or interesting but with a planned five days of uninterrupted work may have brought out an unbecomingly whiny, annoyingly grumpy side of my personality, which I wish I could say appears rarely but that’s probably not true.

I channeled at least a little of that grumpy energy into a baking bender that lasted until Noah made me a pina colada on Wednesday night–sweetly implying that it was time to get over my “why aren’t we in Aruba?” funk. A day later we took off for Rhode Island and I buried myself in a novel while snuggling by a fire.

From here, I can tell you that even if I didn’t get to go away I did get to make some pretty great things that I had bookmarked for a long time. So, today, I thought I would put up  some links to the excellent food I made this week and throw out a big thank you to the excellent bloggers who pointed me towards these comforting, bad mood-defying treats:

Smitten Kitchen’s Millet Banana Bread: (Gluten-free: 1 cup buckwheat flour,  1/2 cup almond meal)

Casa Yelllow’s Frascatelli: (Wheat- free: 3 cups einkorn flour, 1 cup chestnut flour)

Sprouted Kitchen’s Cauliflower Gratin (Subbed millet for brown rice, added a chopped jalapeno, used chick pea flour in the roux)

My New Root’s Chocolate Buckwheat Granola (Added 1 cup mashed banana to the chocolate and took out the sugar, cut maple syrup down to  a 1/4 cup; threw in some dried cherries at the end).

I’ll be back with a real recipe next week.

 

Carrot Socca

I have spent most of the last few months trying to combat this dreadful winter with citrus. Our kitchen is filled with bowls of mandarins, grapefruits, blood oranges, tangerines, and oro blancos. But, as the winter has continued in an unrelenting stream of gray days, I’ve moved my fruit fixations on to even warmer climates and started stocking mangos. It’s possible I should buy carbon offsets for my fruit bowl.

Last night, as I mulled over the fact that we were going North–NORTH– for “spring” break next week and as I stared at a weather report that suggested yesterday’s 50 degrees was going to disappear into rain and snow, I decided enough was enough. I was going to turn one bowl of citrus into something delicious. Having just seen Molly’s recipe for lime curd, my thoughts drifted to a tangerine-lime curd smeared on cookies and toast, layered with whipped cream and cookie crumbs for a trifle, or, to be honest, eaten furtively from a spoon every time I walked into the kitchen.

It totally failed. I juiced my tangerines and limes; I whisked them with sugar and butter. But, I whisked a few minutes too long, turned the heat just slightly too high, and all of a sudden it curdled. Bits of egg floated in melted sugar and butter along with some no-longer bright lime zest. It was gross. To add insult to injury, when I decided I had to taste it before dumping it down the drain, I burnt my tongue. Also there are splatters of tangerine juice and melted sugar all over our kitchen. It’s very sticky. (Cue “this would never happen to Robin” moans now.)

I decided it was all punishment for my globetrotting fruit bowl. “This is New England, Suzanne,” I said. “You should be eating root vegetables.” And so, as penance, I’m here to share with you a recipe for carrots. Luckily, my penance is your gain because this recipe is pretty tasty. And, let’s face it, at this point in the winter, you probably have some carrots sitting in the bottom of your refrigerator. Also, if you’re lucky enough to have citrus, you should not try to mess with it by adding butter and sugar.

This is a recipe for chickpea flat bread–socca–which is really more of a big flat pancake made of chickpea four, water, and a little oil. I discovered socca shortly after going gluten-free and for a while ate it at least once a week because it is so simple to make. Eventually, it fell out of rotation, but I made it recently and remembered how simple it is. Upon rediscovery, I decided that carrots would be an excellent addition to socca. My first attempt, however, ended in another kitchen disaster. I had roasted the carrots and then poured the socca batter around them. When I shook the socca loose from its pan, I ended up with mangled socca and a pile of roast carrots. They were quite good together but not exactly what I was aiming for.

This time, I grated the carrots, sautéed them in a little butter and garlic and then stirred them into the batter before it went into the pan. The result was a cross between a socca and a carrot latke. It was crisp, sweet, and savory. At this point, I would definitely rather be sipping juice straight from a coconut but this is pretty good too. (And, as you can see, I ate it with a side of citrus anyway.)

Cauliflower, Smoky Quinoa, and Radicchio Salad

A few weeks ago, Noah texted asking if he should pick anything up for dinner on his way home. (Good boyfriend points!) I told him he should figure it out what he wanted to eat because he was on his own. I had my own plans.

In matters of taste, Noah and I do not always agree. He dislikes squash, cauliflower, and broccoli. There is a list of things that upset his stomach, which includes raw cabbage, quinoa, and many beans. I hate chocolate ice cream and can’t eat pizza so he also has his own (possibly more legitimate) complaints. In any case, I now rule out many of my favorite foods when I plan dinner (except when I’m on a conversion mission) or try to load all my broccoli and cabbage eating into lunch.

On this night, however, I had an idea for a salad and was determined to make it. When Noah got home and saw what was getting tossed into my bowl he nodded and said, “Now I get it. That’s all your favorite foods.” You see, I had myself a salad of roasted cauliflower, smokey quinoa, and radicchio. I’d also tossed in pickled shallots, jalapeño peppers, mozzarella cheese, and toasted hazelnuts. It was creamy but not unhealthy, spicy and tangy. This is a complicated salad. It takes a while to make, but I thought it was worth it. Even though it contained so many of Noah’s least favorite foods, I caught him sneaking a couple of bites. So, maybe it was a conversion mission after all.

Chocolate, Cherry, Coconut Macaroon Tart

Last weekend, was kind of perfect. It was the kind of weekend I imagine non-students have all the time, but which sometimes seems tragically absent for those of us with work always hanging over heads. Friends and family popped in and out all weekend. We played games; watched a game; I ran an impromptu race. And, this tart was there the whole time. Baked up on Saturday morning for a dinner party we were hosting, the leftovers served as a snack when Noah’s parents came by, and then accompanied us to a Super Bowl party. It received rave reviews at every point. If you are looking for a perfect weekend, I think this tart should be your companion. If you are trying to turn a less than perfect weekend around, I think this tart could help out.

It’s a riff on the macaroon tart in Heidi Sawnson’s Super Natural Everyday. I made it gluten-free by substituting almond and buckwheat flours in the crust. I made it less seasonal–because the current season is the worst–by buying frozen cherries and covering it in chocolate. Come to think of it, maybe that is perfectly seasonal for February (this could be a Valentine’s Day treat, if you are into that sort of thing).

Oh, and another thing, a few months ago I started writing the occasional post for Blue Apron Meals. Do you know about Blue Apron Meals? You should definitely check them out. Anyway, the coconut in this tart came from coconut I dried. That’s right, I made my own coconut milk and wrote about it for them. As a result I also got my own coconut water and shredded coconut. While you can certainly use store-bought, unsweetened coconut, if you really need to turn a bad weekend around, you could also get out a hammer, buy a coconut, and rid yourself of any aggression.

Soupy Rice, Kale and Lentils

After a string of sexy (or at least sweet and boozy) recipes, I’m bringing this blog back down to earth with the most mundane of dishes. Rice, kale, lentils, and broth. Could anything sound more ho hum? I can’t even describe this dish as a soup since, even if it starts out soup-like on day one, by day two the rice and lentils have slurped up so much of the broth that it has transformed itself into more of a risotto. So, here we are. It’s a very gray, very cold February. The roads are slushy and our food is soupy and also kind of gray.

That said, if you can get past this dishes indeterminate name, boring list of ingredients, and none-too-flattering photographs, I think you will be pleasantly surprised. I know I was.

I had absolutely no intention of writing about this dish. I just wandered into the kitchen hoping to use up the kale that was slowly wilting in the refrigerator and warm up our drafty apartment. I didn’t write down what I was doing, just chopped up an onion, scrounged up the lentils and rice, and washed the kale hurriedly while the onion was browning. But, then Noah got home and yelled, “What are you cooking? It smells amazing.”

Then I took a bite, and, well, it’s much more complex than I expected. It’s got the umami-ish depth that comes from melting anchovies into your food. The wine gives it some tang (more so if it is edging its way toward vinegar as mine was). The lentils are toothy and make a bowl of this feel healthy enough for lunch even while the arborio rice makes it feel bone-sticking enough for February. I scribbled the recipe down on a napkin, but I’m moving it here for safe keeping. I’m sure I’ll be making more before the winter is over.

Passion Fruit Pisco Sours

Over Martin Luther King Day Weekend, Noah and I went to Chicago. When we told friends we were doing this, they gave us are-you-batshit-crazy looks. I supposed this is what anyone planning to go to Chicago in late January deserves, but we were just looking to get away for the weekend and catch up with the many, too many, friends who have moved to Chicago over the last couple of years.

It was, of course, very cold, but nonetheless worth the trip. We saw a very frozen lake Michigan and Frank Lloyd Wright houses. We ate great barbeque and Mexican food.

Mostly, we chatted with friends we miss a lot and poked our heads into cool stores and bakeries. A particular highlight was a visit to the amazing Epic Spices. If you are in Chicago, go. The luscious smell of spices literally permeates the sidewalk in front of this place–I know because I made us stand outside for 15 minutes until it opened, cold weather be damned. If you go, you’ll leave with your tongue tingling from tastes of Japanese Sansho Pepper (a cousin of Sichuan Peppercorns) and with plans to work more fenugreek and orange peel into your cooking.

We came home to an East Coast that was almost as cold and blustery as Chicago. But, I figured we had just learned how to handle the cold from true experts so I did what any sensible person would do and followed their lead.

My friend Noah, who we were staying with despite the ensuing confusion of having 2 Noahs in a small space, keeps frozen passion fruit puree in his freezer at all times. This, it turns out, is a great idea if you live somewhere gray and cold.

Case in point: Our first night in town, as it snowed outside, we huddled in his apartment, rolled sushi, and played games. At some point someone suggested we make pisco sours. The idea was enthusiastically endorsed before we discovered that we lacked eggs and bitters. An egg retrieved from a neighbor’s refrigerator solved the first problem and Noah pulled out the passion fruit to replace the bitters. The result: a totally winning, fruity, sour, and foamy drink that I think is the ticket to getting you through the winter.

The minute I got home, just before another blizzard began, I dashed to the grocery store and dug some Goya passion fruit puree out of the back of a freezer. It was necessary, I thought, to lay in essential provisions before the storm.

Orange, Ginger, Goat Yogurt Panna Cotta

Oh, hello again. My family has a hectic November and December. My mother’s birthday kicks it off and then, in quick succession, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, my birthday, Christmas, New Years, and, just when you think you can stop thinking about who needs a present and a baked good, my father’s birthday. There’s been a lot of sugar.

There have also been an unfortunate number of gluten-free cookies that ended up in the trash for being hard as rocks and flavorless (what am I getting wrong with Buckwheat?)  or for utterly collapsing in the oven (did this recipe really work for everyone else?). There were some very good pies and also some kind of disappointing ones. My uncle, mother, and I spent an evening crafting pigs out of marzipan. The pigs show up annually in our Christmas stocking so joining the pig molding party felt a bit like being given the keys to Santa’s workshop (yay, I’m a grown up…crap, I’m a grown up).

Amidst all the sugary baked goods, I discovered this.

My birthday came a mere four days after Thanksgiving this year and I didn’t feel up for more baked goods so instead I made this Smitten Kitchen Panna Cotta (I topped it with pomegranate seeds and rose sugar instead of honey and walnuts, but I’m sure the original is excellent too.) Since, I also had the flu on my birthday this turned out to be an excellent decisions. There were a few days, when all my throat or stomach could stand was creamy, yogurty, panna cotta.

Despite, having eaten it for a week straight, I loved that panna cotta more than all the cookies, pies, and cakes that piled up around us  all month. I decided that I could update it for Christmas dinner into something a little more decadent, but still refreshing. I swapped the greek yogurt for strained goat yogurt, which has a creamier tang. I stirred in orange zest and candied ginger and a few tablespoons of orange juice. We made a pitcher of ginger syrup to go on the side. In the end, I think, it’s really the perfect holiday dessert because when you eat it for breakfast the next morning you feel both indulgent and virtuous all at once.

I plan to make it a Christmas tradition so I’ll be making it again next year. But, if you  don’t want to wait that long, I think you could feel justified making this dessert, even in January. And, if you are looking for something to serve on New Years–in the evening or for brunch–I think this would work well.

I forgot to take a good picture before we dug in, so let this well-cleaned plate stand for how delicious it was.