Great Grains & "Locavore" Living

There’s a good reason some of us “wish we were baking.” It’s because some of us shouldn’t be trusted in the kitchen to COOK!!!

You know you have just a few too many grains in the house when you go to make a lovely mushroom barley soup on a foggy autumn evening, and you realize that you’re… just not sure which one the barley IS. You peer at it. You call your SO into the room to peer at it. Your SO peers at it, nibbles at a piece, frowns and mumbles and confirms for you which one is which, then leaves to go back to her hours of staring glassily into the television screen, watching bad Doris Day films while waiting for the bread to bake.

You STILL somehow manage to mislabel the grain.

However, you find out that mushroom RYE soup is downright tasty, too. It’s a quick and easy soup that goes really well with… um… well, bread. Whole wheat rolls, in fact. Or foccacia bread, topped with savories. (Sorry, I haven’t yet figured out what doesn’t go with bread.) Anyway, rye in soup is great, because, unlike barley, it doesn’t suck up all the liquid in the universe. The soup isn’t as velvety, but that’s just fine too.

To begin with, soak 2 c. dried mushrooms in 1 c. hot water for 20 minutes. (Save the water! It adds great flavor!) Porcini, chanterelle, or shiitake all work equally well for this, use your preference, and use a lot.

Into a heavy-bottomed saucepan, place:

  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1/2 to one whole chopped white onion, (Or add two. Live a little!)
  • Add 1/3 clove of crushed garlic,
  • A sprig of rosemary, fresh (And ‘sprig’ is a size measurement of your preference, too!)
  • 3/4 c. of rye berries… or, if you must, barley.
  • 1/2 c. of white wine
  • 2 c. vegetable stock

After your mushrooms have softened, rough chop and add them. Strain the water for particles of whatever, and dump it in as well.

We simmered ours for an hour and a half on low, turning it up to medium for the last ten minutes, and the rye was soft but still chewable. Some people add bay leaf, but I find that bay goes better if I’m going to add potatoes and carrots. A squirt of lime juice brightened the flavor just before serving. This was a simple and light soup; flavorful and filling, and a great new use of rye!

Having a sourdough starter in the fridge means that you have to feed it. Feeding starter takes a cup of flour and a cup of water everytime you use it. We are going through an awful lot of flour. Not that it’s a big deal — flour is fairly inexpensive, after all, but we currently seeking sources that are closer to home. After participating quietly in the locavore challenge introduced to us by Tea, we found a personal commitment to eat locally first, and organically second, to support sustainable agriculture. To that end, we’re looking for Northern California items. Those who participated in the locavore movement found local salt, quinoa and amaranth flour, and flour — from Full Belly Farm. So, there are options out there.

Leftovers: Odds & Ends

I think our neighbor thinks we’re freaks.

Okay, so she’s actually the one who should worry, because she talks over me like she’s practically deaf, so our circuitous conversations always seem to have the comedic element of “What?” and “Oh, I just said that” added to them. Too, she somehow always manages to talk and talk and TALK to one about banalities like the weather, the birds in her dryer vent (poor things) and what she’s having done to her house whilst one is digging for one’s keys and concurrently has to pee, but can’t find a way to politely hurry her along. AND, she is … erm… NOSY. Okay, she is awfully curious about some of the things that come into our house. A box from SFHerb.com. was left on the porch. Boxes of produce from our CSA, which prompts her to bring us baskets of strawberries and tell us that she bought them at a farm. We shared fresh-baked bread with her, and she utterly fails to be able to acknowledge that D. made it, not me. Lots of stuttering as she goes on, and on, and ON on the telephone. Poor thing. We totally rock her little world. A man that COOKS!? If only she knew. The knitting. The cans of jam. The (sob!) sewing on of one’s own buttons and ripped pillow case seams! This whole blog would blow her tiny, little mind…


Somewhere, Rick Bayless is screaming.

Lest I come off as too much of a foodie in this blog (friends express astonishment that we attempt tofu, grow a large garden and can our produce. They remark that they wish they had a.] time, b.] patience, c.] creativity to do what we do in the kitchen: mostly they’re thin, and don’t know what a mess our house is, please note), celebrating the joys of eating fungus in Quorn and going on and on about what is generally back-breaking and odd work like baking bread from scratch every week and experimenting with drying things, I wanted to tell you something: there is something I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

It was from the CSA. It was organic. It was fresh — so fresh, it still had a lively inhabitant. It was ethnic and valued by chefs of fresh flavors and new experiences. Even the handsome Ming Tsai has fixed it. It was …corn smut. Huitlacoche, Latin Americans call it, and praise it for its woodsy, earthy, delicate mushroomy flavor. The Beard Foundation, apparently in an effort to get Americans to pay more attention to it, renamed it the Mexican truffle. Nice try, people, but no dice this time. And it had nothing to do with the snob appeal of having something called a truffle, okay? I have to admit… it was mostly… well, the occupant which turned me off. I’m usually pretty game, but… I have a thing. With worms. And spiders. But today: the worms.

(No, I will never know the joy of tequila. So what? And yes, I, too, rescued drowning earthworms in the rain as a child. That was different, leagues different from enduring the blind, hornéd stares of the tomato worms that infested our yard one year. I have never recovered from being required to blend them with cayenne and garlic and spray them on the plants… thank-you, Mama, for your green-sense to save the earth, but GROSS!!! GROSS!! GROSS!! GROSS!!!!!!)

It was just… alive and all, it felt like a pulpy tumor when I touched the corn cob. I peeled back the husk with dread, and saw the familiar puff of blackness, the …worm… and then the spore-filled horror.

Oh, the horror!

Couldn’t it eat. Couldn’t look at it (notice the blurred photographs – shaking hands?) Couldn’t really even think about it.

And, glad I didn’t try. It’s only spore-filled when it’s too old to eat. And really, if you are allergy prone like I am, it’s probably not too great an idea to play with spores, and I don’t know, but I think I need a guide before picking mushrooms, so I’m not going to claim some kind of fungus hipness with stuff that grows on corn. But someday, I’d like to try this — properly prepared, (not sold in a can, like I’ve seen it!) and not by me — and see what it’s all about.

As long as there are no worms.

Sorry, Rick, sorry Ming. Dudes. I tried.


I have been whinging away about the amount of baking going on around me… and I’ve come to a conclusion: self-control is less expensive than diet foods. I don’t believe in de-greening the planet with packaging. I refuse to pay other people to make me do what I’m supposed to do anyway, which is to stop eating sometimes. (Okay, I’ll pay my gym dues, but that’s about it.) I am going to have to find a balance between the comfort of winter baking and the comfort of having a body that I don’t have to roll down inclines. I am going to have to make friends with my freaky neighbor, and keep giving her food. Really, it’s the only way…

When you bake without eggs, AND without oil, you need to take precautions to be sure that you’re not making a brick that is going to be perma-welded to your pan. Why, you ask yourself, did we make this brode without eggs or oil!? It was not in any attempt to be über health conscious in any way. We were weighing and measuring and tootling away on engineering this bread recipe, and we … erm… forgot.

We realized our error about the time we were going to pan the bread, and we thought… “Ah, what the heck,” and lined the pan with oiled parchment. It worked! It came out, it held up, it rose, thanks to the experimental flaxseed and water blend we used. It was quite exciting to look at something attractive, something that someone might actually want to buy one day, and think, “Hey! We did it!”

Okay, now, so much for being good, I need to go and get a piece.

Happy Baking!

Dried Vegan

Just a quick note to say that our idea of drying zucchini (about twenty of the monstrous things shown to the left) for use later has paid off already. We’ve been wanting to engineer a vegan quick-bread, and have succeeded! We used the dried zucchini, cut up into strips using scissors, and it’s turned out to be a wonderfully coarse loaf. Alton was going to be in for a scolding with his measurements for getting a bread starter going (from I’m Just Here for More Food: Food X Mixing + Heat = Baking), as our whole wheat starter tried to climb out of the jar even in the fridge … but we just incorporated some starter into the loaf, and are quite pleased at the results.

We wrote down all of the measurements along the way, too, so that WHEN the bakery opens we’ll have this recipe as well as all the yeast breads.

Fish DO Fly

My salmon will arrive tomorrow. 10 pounds, flash-frozen at sea, in individually vacuum-sealed portions (8 oz or 16 oz, assorted). Flown in from port, in Washington, packed in dry ice so they stay totally rock-solid frozen. As fresh as it gets without going to Alaska.

Perspective: I’m a vegetarian except for fish, and that’s only very rarely. I was raised as a vegetarian, and only came to eating meat when it was either that or live on salad / bread every bloody night (boarding school). So, this will be Adventures In Cooking, for certain, as I attempt to figure out how to cook salmon. I’ve seen Jacques Pepin do it any number of ways … but I’m thinking that I’m going to opt to start with the “sous vide” method of poaching at low temperature in a plastic bag. Slate, of course, has something snarky to say about this cooking method … or, rather, cooking methods in general. We’ll see what happens.

Tomorrow, before 3 pm, it’ll be at the door.

I ordered like three months ago.

I can’t wait.

Bread and Stitches

Just a quick post, to give you an idea of the current project. This one’s the one I blogged about a while ago, and the one which is consuming most of my time … at least, when I’m knitting.

  1. s1, k1, *k*, k2
  2. s1, k1, *k2tog*, k2
  3. s1, k1, *k into front and back of each stitch*, k2
  4. s1, k1, *p*, k2

So, the stitch (again) is to K | K2TOG | KTF&B | P across whole rows (see the previous post to get a nicer description). It ends up looking quite pretty, but it’d help if I could actually remember where I was in the pattern (note the several rows of plain old K | P in towards the top – I was in a meeting & kind of paying attention to people talking, instead of keeping track of where I was). I figure I’ve just got to remember to do this again, every 5 repeats or so … yeah right! It’s just going to end up being random, I guess.

We have given in to the temptation to bake … and eat … and are in the process of experimenting with sourdough combined with fiber. We’re trying to hide as much fiber in sourdough as possible, while disguising it as “regular” sourdough. So far, oat bran seems to be the winner. It’s quite light in color, so it hides in there very well, and we’ll know about the texture tomorrow when we try it out on a friend of ours.

Of course, we found the “plain” bread a bit difficult, as we’re used to adding more along the lines of the following (which is my “basic” recipe, in descending order of quantity):

  • Whole Wheat Flour
  • Water
  • Unbleached Flour
  • Flax Seeds
  • Oat Bran
  • Molasses
  • Honey
  • Wheat Germ
  • Quinoa Flour
  • Yeast
  • Salt

However, it’s much more fun to play with this stuff, that’s for sure. There’s not a chance in the world that you can do “bread art” with anything which is nearly 1/3 fiber … so, this is a nice change, and if it means we can add another bread to our repertoire … it’s only a good thing. Except, of course, that we’ve made four small loaves in the past two days, and all we’ve left is one small one … and that’s to share. Sigh. It’s vacation, right?

Yield!

And so the great excercise in denial begins. The yeast – innocent, foamy, yet so sinister. It calls out from its infancy, saying, “eat me!” We also can’t manage to take the in-between pictures of the baking process, because we’re really not all that experienced at food blogging, and, frankly, are really into baking. So look at the yeast … and imagine it being combined with various flours (some wheat, some not), various fibers, some sweet stuff, and a wee bit of salt. Then imagine it all being kneaded, allowed to rise, kneaded again, formed, rising again and being baked.

And, as you can see, we listen to the cries of the yeast; we bake lovely loaves, and can’t resist eating them prior to any art shots.

It’s quite theraputic to look at the kitchenaid paddle going ’round and ’round. It’s also quite relaxing to have one’s spouse sitting amidst a pile of newspapers (a week’s worth, if I’m estimating properly), catching up on all of the neglected information.

What’s even more theraputic is to have waited all night long for the loaves to have really set, and then making that first cut with the slicer, after estimating (by weight of the loaves) how thick the slices should be … and then tucking each loaf into its own zip-top bag for sharing, refrigerating, and generally flinging away … to tempt someone else.

Yes. To know that a) the stick of butter you’ve had sitting in the fridge has long since gone rancid, b) you have exactly 1 teaspoon of peanut butter left, c) you have no cream cheese, d) you used all of the non-crystallized honey in making the bread, and e) it is not really a good thing to make a trip to the market just to indulge in bread, unless you plan on really indulging in bread … these things are not theraputic.

The Romans used Ostritch Feathers, I’m told. Sigh. Spin Class will have to do.

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

When I was in college in the good old undergrad days, the lady I worked for had a garage full of what I’ll just call Slim(e)fast. Costco had just morphed out of Price Club (remember that?) and people were reveling in that bulk buying thing, so there were just acres of cans in this woman’s garage. It was scary. Miles of dusty, metallic cans housing miles of metallic tasting, dubiously supportive diet drinks. I remember thinking a.) that the drink obviously wasn’t working (you had to see this lady – she drank it with food, okay?) and b.) that the cans took up so much space that I would NEVER do something so dumb. Besides, I thought, we live in California. There’s so much fresh stuff. Can’t she just eat salad and lose weight?

Okay. Flash forward to my post-collegiate life. I’ve kept my vow. I’ve never done that particular dumb thing, but I do have my soy protein shakes, in powder form, and they’re so convenient for when I’m working… and they’ve allowed me to drop a bit of weight in the bargain, so that’s nice, but they, too, I buy in bulk, and they take up a stupid amount of space in our pre-remodel, postage-sized kitchen (which will STILL be postage-sized post-remodel, but that’s another long and ranting post). The thing is, I’m struggling with the idea of convenience in packaged foods as a weight loss support. We do live in California. We do have all this great local produce, farmer’s markets, CSA’s, our own garden. It seems pointless and counter-green to rely on packaged products, when I could “just eat salad.” Oh, the hubris of seventeen.

Shall I get to the point of my rant? D.M. no longer wishes to bake, but IS BAKING. And dear Lord help us, but I could inhale a whole loaf…

Secret Fiber…

The new trick will be to incorporate fiber into our breads in a … secretive way, so that certain relatives (who should be downright ashamed of themselves) will be able to actually taste things, and then, maybe someday, eat the things baked for them.

Yes, the zucchini bread was vegan; yes, it had flax-seeds in it, and nuts, and oat bran, and wheat germ, and whole wheat flour. But come on, he could’ve actually tasted it! Bah! A nice little lady at work actually STOLE the loaf I brought in for everybody – she just wrapped it up & took it to her desk instead of leaving it in the communal area! Now, would a little taste have hurt him?

Apparently we’re going to have to refine our fiber a bit more, maybe run it through the blender or the cuisinart before we incorporate it into the breads. Maybe get a “white” whole-wheat flour, too, and peel the zucchini, so there’re no little green bits. And oat bran is already light.

And he wonders why his wife’s always going behind him sprinkling BeneFiber in things!

It was the First Bake and everything! Woe!

Way Too Much Squash. Way.

This morning I looked up various pie recipes, because I hear that Okara, that wonderfully pulpy by-product of tofu production, can be used in a “dump” pie to make its own crust. This was just in the service of, oh, making use of something we already have. I wasn’t thinking that we should put into use some of the SQUASH that is piling up by the boxload around here… But then I found, serendipitously? — that zucchini can be used in place of …apples? From yesterday’s Christian Science Monitor comes a recipe for… wait for it… Zapple Pie.

Is this something from the Midwest?! Remember those awful recipes for Ritz Mock Apple Pie (and I shouldn’t even include the link to that abomination!) that people used to make? This by turns horrifies and fascinates… See, West Coast people make, oh, ratatouille, with excess squash. But if you’re from Boston, maybe this is the way to do it.

Zapple Pie

This mock apple pie is a delicious way to sneak vegetables into your kids’ meals.

Filling:

  • 6 cups peeled, quartered, and thinly sliced zucchini (about 2 pounds)
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
  • 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
  • 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 unbaked pie shell

Topping:

  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
  • 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 4 tablespoons butter
  • 1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts

To make the filling: In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine zucchini, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Add 2 tablespoons lemon juice. Stir to mix and cook until tender, but not mushy, about 15 minutes, stirring frequently.

In a large measuring cup or a small bowl, mix the flour with the remaining 1/2 cup lemon juice until smooth. Stir into the zucchini mixture. Continue to cook until the mixture thickens, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from heat.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F.

To make the topping: Combine flour, brown sugar, and cinnamon in a small bowl. Using a pastry blender or two knives, cut in the butter until the mixture is crumbly. Stir in the pecans or walnuts.

Spoon the filling into the pie shell. Top with half of the streusel topping. Place in the oven and reduce heat to 350 degrees F. Bake for 30 minutes, until the crust is browned and the filling bubbles.

Sprinkle the remaining topping over the pie. Turn on the broiler. Place pie under the broiler for about 3 minutes, until topping is browned.

Set the pie on a wire rack to cool. Serve warm or completely cooled. It is best served on the day it is made. Serves 6 to 8.

Source: From ‘The Classic Zucchini Cookbook’ by Nancy Ralston, Marynor Jordan, and Andrea Chesman

Oh, go ahead. Throw some okara in the crust. Why eat anything recognizable?

From The City Gardener’s Cookbook, which came out in 1997 comes a better idea for excess zucchini than even ratatouille.

FUDGY ORANGE-ZUCCHINI CAKE WITH ORANGE GLAZE

This dense orange cake, drizzled with orange glaze, is always a favorite at the annual harvest banquet.

  • 2 1/2 cups flour
  • 1/2 cup cocoa
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 3 teaspoons cinnamon
  • 3/4 cup butter
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 3 eggs, lightly beaten
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla
  • 1/2 cup milk
  • 3 1/2 cups grated zucchini
  • 3 tablespoons grated orange zest
  • 2 tbsp. cardamom powder
  • 1 cup chopped hazelnuts
  • calendula blossoms and petals, tuberous begonia blossoms, or orange mint sprigs, for garnish; some people add miniature chocolate chips.

    Orange Glaze

  • 1 1/4 cups sifted confectioner’ sugar
  • 1/4 cup fresh orange juice
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350°F. Sift the flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon together and set aside. In a bowl, cream the butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the eggs, vanilla and milk to the butter mixture. Stir in the dry ingredients and mix until well blended. Fold in the zucchini, orange zest and nuts. Pour into a greased and floured bundt cake pan. Bake 50 to 60 minutes. Allow the cake to cool for 15 minutes before turning out onto a rack.

To make the glaze, ina bowll mix together the sugar, orange juice and vanilla. While the cake is still warm, drizzle with the glaze. Garnish with flowers or mint spigs.

I hear you can add Grand Marnier to the glaze with some excellent results. I look forward to trying at least one of these… guess which one.

New Oven’s First Bake…

SO! The oven showed up this morning at 8:30, and it’s all sparkly, sleek, and wonderfully black and shiny! As an added bonus, of course, we have a grand total of 1 cm clearance between the oven door’s handle and the dishwasher door when it opens … and that’s only by dint of squeezing the oven right up against the refrigerator (yes, bad bad energy consumption, etc. … or didn’t you know that your appliances want room to themselves?).

In order for it to be fully “here,” however, we needed to test it. Problem was, what should we test it with? I mean, yes, it’ll cook (ceramic cooktop), but will it BAKE? So, since we had two monstrous zucchini sitting around, waiting to be fed into the vegetable drier (Okara took precedence yesterday), I figured we’d do zucchini bread. Now, let’s note that when I say monstrous, I mean that there are near-fully-developed seeds inside, which need to be scooped out before you begin.

So, a sore arm and withered fingers later, I ended up with 12 cups of lovely square-cut zucchini bits. I used our Benriner (shown to the right) slicer, because I’ve found that it does less damage to the veggies; it actually slices them, as opposed to grating them, which gives a better overall texture to most things which ask for “grated” ingredients.

This zucchini was added to flax seeds, blended flax seeds (as egg replacer), water, diced almonds, soy milk, pineapple juice, quinoa flour, whole wheat flour, oat bran, xylitol, splenda, raisins, nutmeg, cloves, vanilla extract, fennel seeds, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and … um … oh, yeah. FORGOT TO ADD THE OKARA!

Rats. Those of you who use recipes? This is why you do. This is where you can get all smarmy and say your “I told you so’s” and I’ll agree with you. The problem? I mean, it’s not like I didn’t have a recipe. I have plenty of recipes. I have two PDA’s (one Windows CE, the other Palm), each of which synchronizes with my recipes on the PC. I brought a PDA with me. It was sitting there on the counter. The recipe I was using as a base recipe was right there. You see, though, the problem? Not that I was using it as THE recipe, but as the “base recipe.” It was a recipe for banana bread. Were there bananas involved?

Smells great, though. Off to check … four loaves and a plate of muffins, all at the same time. It’s a trial by fire for it.