Everything Goes Better With… A Baker’s Report

Fudge Cake 1.0

We’re well past a report on the baking experiments, but the goods have been, to say the least, odd. Still, the odds are good that eventually, we’ll get this whole thing right!

The mise en place chefs continue to rise to the top, because they always know what ingredients they have before they start cooking. If you, like T., finds the filling of little bowls with measured and prepped ingredients fiddly, well… too bad. She started these fudge brownies with what she had on hand – insufficient cocoa powder and no eggs. Oh, the fun things you discover as you go along without the little prep bowls! No problem; she’s good with flip-flopping between vegan and not, and we have lots of solid baker’s chocolate. Unfortunately, almond flour is a pickier substance, and isn’t as easy with her choices.

We’ve talked before about how to make a flax “egg” – but you absolutely must account for that three tablespoons of water that you’ve used. It’s VERY EASY for almond flour pastries to become too moist. It’s one of the perks of baking with almond flour – lovely, moist cakes that don’t dry out, but oh, be careful, little bakers. Vegan-izing can so easily lead to disaster.

T. used the “basic” quickbread ratio for almond flour – two cups of almond flour to a half cup of cocoa powder (augmented with grated chocolate), a third cup of vital wheat gluten, 2/3 c. of a combination of Truvia and erythritol, a teaspoon of vanilla, and about a half cup of milk.

Aaand, there’s problem #2 – that pesky word “about.” It’s been really hard for both T. and D. to get through their heads that everything they think they know about baking no longer counts. We’re just not good enough yet to substitute without measuring. Right now, we’re conforming closely to recipes from The Low Carb Baking and Dessert Cookbook by Ursula Solom and Low Carbing Among Friends, by Carolyn Ketchum & Co…. and trying REALLY hard not to give in to the inevitable urge to just substitute… and failing. Repeatedly.

We have lovely in-the-process pictures from baking these fudge brownies. They came together well – baked up well – but I had some questions as soon as we took it out of its springform. The bottom seemed … too moist. We let it cool completely before doing anything with it, having learned out lesson last time about mucking around with almond flour pastries before they’re cool enough to move — but I thought, “hmmm,” as I saw how damp it was. Not a good “hmm,” either.

Fudge Cake 1.1

And yet, they were SO delicious, and so moist, and …so caved in on the top, and ugly, which is something we can lay at the door of overly-moist as well. They were super-ugly, which is a big minus, since we always like to bake to share, but amazingly chocolate-y, with a deep, rich flavor. Too moist, but yummy, like a fudge brownie pudding, maybe. We couldn’t figure out which way we wanted to go for frosting – plain? A cream cheese base? A chocolate frosting? We tried both plain and cream cheese – really, really tasty. We never got to the ganache we were going to make. Unfortunately, a cake so moist does not keep well – you have to refrigerate it, and we didn’t. YES: we ate a chocolate cake so slowly that it went bad. That’s got to be one for the books, but it really WAS good, and next time – well, we’ve got a lot of plans for next time…

For What We Are About To Receive…

HelloKidney

Sometimes what you think is The Worst turns out to be …livable.

Thanks for all the nice notes about T’s sister. We were afraid for The Bug – known as Bug, since D. convinced her, when she was about four, that pomegranate seeds were bugs, and she ate them anyway – We were afraid that doing the stupid every-other-day dialysis would make her senior year a drag, that her social life would wither and blow away, that she’d miss out on some ephemeral something found only by being in high school. We thought she would be resentful, sullen, cranky – things we certainly would be. We did not expect the return of flashes of zany exuberance, 8 a.m. phone calls about what ridiculous video she had found on YouTube (“No, WATCH IT!! It’s FUNNY!”) and an amiable acceptance of the hand she’s been played. She feels better, for sure, her gimpy internal organs bolstered by a big, scary looking machine. WE were the ones who were afraid. She’s… seventeen. Hardly young and sweet, but apparently impervious. Unsinkable.

And, really – the whole “senior year” thing is a societal construct, much like the idea that the teen years are the “best years” of one’s life. Who actually believes that? If so, won’t the rest of your life stretch before you like an unpalatable desert road that you simply must travel, until you fall over? What’s the point of that? Better to watch this person living, hoarding the little crumbs of joy into a whole loaf, as she goes on. We got her this “Hello Kidney” shirt to wear to dialysis – might have to get her a few more in various colors. Together with her plush kidney, she is the pinnacle of snarkiness, ready for anything.

Thank God.


Autumn is, and that pumpkin-nut-apple-cranberry thing is happening, and leaves, and sunsets, and America is about to lose its stuff on running around, throwing garlands and gourds on everything, and baking up a storm. We’re right in there, of course, looking anxiously for the first frosty night (way, waaaaay off, if the warm sunny days after the one fluke day of icy rain are any indication), checking for full moons, and looking up every time a ragged line of geese goes honking by in practice formation. Californians, at least, love Autumn, because it tries so hard. In a state largely without seasons (but now, with climate change, we’re getting …something) just the green leaves crisping into brown, even without a major yellow-gold-red color show (Oh, hush, East Coast) is a favorite thing for many.

Thanksgiving is at our house again this year, because we have the most space coupled with the least number of people in residence. We think we’ll be more prepared this year than last – first, we won’t have just moved in (despite what it looks like with the boxes half packed to move, as we were planning a month ago. ::sigh::). We have a heater for the cold basement office/game room, which means we have a place to escape from the Wee let the Wee boys play, and stretch-out space for the interminable games – Six Hour Monopoly (which happens when you play with the very young), very short Scrabble games (where people CHEAT), and possibly this year, league-level (hah) Canasta, which we somehow have to reteach everyone every single year. The social bits all work out – T’s family amuses each other even when it’s not a holiday – but our dinner menu is going to be Something Of A Challenge this time around. Against a holiday menu that traditionally focuses so heavily on that aforementioned autumn baking, we’ll balance:

  1. one hardcore vegan
  2. one flexible vega
  3. six carnivores
  4. one flexitarian/pescatarian
  5. three vegetarians

– PLUS! – three near diabetics and one kidney failure patient on a modified renal diet which is supposed to include nearly no salt, low protein, no carbonation, and low liquid overall. Not counting food dislikes or allergies – Oh, yes! We also have one gluten sensitive/intolerant – this salt free, sugar free, low carb, meat free, dairy free thing is going to be quite something. If looked at it from the perspective of making one meal with courses, it would be somewhat impossible. Fortunately, this family subscribes to the Are You Kidding, Make It Yourself school of holiday meals.

A few wise hosts are putting their guests on notice about their finicky food preferences this year, but since the “preferences” in our family are more a matter of necessity, we’re going to try and stretch our investigative skills. There has to be something really special we can make for the dialysis diet. We’re already on our way with the vegan desserts – throwing low carb and gluten free into the mix should be easy enough, right? After a few years practice making turkey for Christmas for Everyone, D’s gotten pretty good at it, so the carnivores are easy. Kind of.

Holiday meals are about gratitude – being grateful for the company of friends, the history (if not the present) of our nation, and the presence of family, etc. This year, we’re going to be truly grateful for the food, and that we have the leisure to experiment, that there are always new tastes and techniques to discover, and that we love each other enough to try to make what could be seen as a frustration into something uniquely …us.

Cookie Capers: A Swing and a Miss, But Not An Utter Fail

Peanut Butter Thumbprint Cookies 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that peanut butter is a quintessentially American food. Isn’t it amazing how those “universal truths” are often utterly wrong? The Aztecs were actually the first to mess about with peanut-mashing, creating a paste that was a proto-peanut butter. Of course, George Washington Carver, an early food scientist, came up with three hundred uses for the humble legume between 1891 and 1927. In 1884 Marcellus Gilmore Edson – a Canadian – patented a peanut paste made from dry roasted peanuts. His work overlaps with the work of John Harvey Kellogg, whose 1895 pureé from raw peanuts was touted as a protein substitute for those without teeth (eek). In 1903 the first grinder for the specific use of grinding peanuts into peanut butter was patented, and the first recorded recipe for peanut butter cookies was in 1916. So far, not specifically American at all. Interestingly enough, the first time the traditional hash-marks appeared on top of the cookies was in a Pillsbury cookbook in 1936.. No explanation was given, so bakers assume it was to flatten them to allow them more thoroughly; others point out that it allowed allergy-sufferers to identify the peanut butter ingredient. (Nerdy “The More You Know!” history lesson sourced via About.com, TIME magazine’s brief history of peanut butter, and The National Peanut Board.)

According to the statistics people, America is the third largest peanut producer worldwide (hi Texas and Georgia!) and Americans eat around 700 million pounds of peanut butter per year (about 3 pounds per person). While we know that no one who reads this blog is by any means average, that does speak to a people who love their peanut butter – and their peanut butter cookies.

Typically, until recently, T. absolutely hated them.

The biggest complaint most people have about peanut butter cookies is that they’re not a low calorie food. T’s complaint? That peanut butter cookies are usually massively, ridiculously too-too-too sweet. D. posits that the sweeter the better, but T. insists that peanut butter cookies are supposed to taste of peanuts, not sugar. The argument came to its usual standstill when T. whipped up a batch of pbj cookies with… almond flour. Just to throw things off completely.

Almondy PB&C’s

Prep a cookie sheet, we used greaseproof paper. REHEAT your oven, 350F°/170°C

  • 2 C blanched almond flour
  • 1/2 C. natural peanut butter, in this case, crunchy
  • 1/4 C. Truvia or 2/4 C. agave
  • 1/4 Tbsp. vanilla extract
  • 2 tsp. baking powder
  • 1 tsp. salt
  • 1 large egg or 1/4 C. ground flax, plus 3 Tbsp. water for egg replacement

Peanut butter cookies are simple enough to bring together – cream together your salt, sugar, your fats and your egg, at the last, add the flour and prepare for something ridiculously sticky. It took less than half an hour to roll the dough into simple balls. D. suggested that, since he didn’t want not-very-sweet peanut butter cookies that chocolate might as well be involved, since he doesn’t really like it. Lindt 85% was made into a quick ganache and used in place of the traditional jam thumbprint. Honestly, that was a mistake. Actually, there were a few mistakes:

Peanut Butter Thumbprint Cookies 2

    What We Did Wrong

  • We forgot to spray PAM on the greaseproof paper. Yes. It’s greaseproof, but the cookies will still stick slightly if they’re not entirely cooled
  • We forgot to let the cookies entirely cool. ANYTHING made with almond flour MUST be allowed to cool quite a bit; it’s tender and delicate
  • We should have used a Silpat or something like it. It’s easy to get very brown bottoms to your foods when using sugar subs; Silpat helps it cook easily, cool quickly, and look better
  • We should have mixed sugars. Truvia is already made up of stevia and erythritol; in our quest to avoid weird aftertastes or the “cleansing” side effect of using many sugar alcohols, we’ve avoided Splenda. A tiny bit of Splenda? Is workable. A couple of tablespoons might have been helpful here, as it seemed to D. like the cookies got less sweet as time went on, and the peanut butter flavor took over.

What We Did Right:

  1. We tried.
  2. The list on the positives here might seem pretty short — it’s not. The attempt is A Big Deal. A lot of people, when faced with a necessary change in a diet, just… can’t. New, weird ingredients with strange names and unpredictable outcomes are really enough to make a person discouraged. It’s easier, in many ways, to retreat to “okay” foods, and try to stick with old favorites, than venture out into something new. Food blogger friends have urged us to get back in the game, but we’ve kind of become the worst kinds of food bloggers, the kinds who don’t blog about food. It’s because, to be blunt, there are a LOT of mistakes in the kitchen these days. Tons. We dump out baked items, bowls of batter, and we kind of hate ourselves just a little each time for the waste. But, waste and flops is how we fuel creation.

    The verdict is that this is one tender, tasty and delicious piece of cookie. The chocolate was weird – it lost its temper and became really oddly crumbly – but with a dollop of low sugar Smucker’s, these will be a completely yummy compliment to a mug of Assam tea, or even a glass of milk. The almond flour makes these cookies more tender than the traditional peanut butter cookie, and they don’t have the sandy/shortbready feel of some recipes. (Have you ever had a gritty peanut butter cookie? T. has. It bewildered her.) T. feels this tenderness is an improvement. D. remains ambivalent.

    As the days continue to cool and baked goods seem like a better and better idea (along with turning on the furnace – which we’re delaying until October, if we can), we’re going to keep messing with these recipes, working to see what we can do with them, and continue to try and perfect the tender, spongy scone – with just a tiny bit of fresh cranberry and orange zing (that was a success!), fine-tune our carrot cake muffins (still needs work) and present you with some new things to try – mainly because of sheer cussed stubbornness, but also because we love to tinker, and we’ve never met a recipe we couldn’t make better. (Or, our version of better, anyway.)

    Cheers, and happy autumn!

Home, Making

2013 Benicia 037

Once again, we draw to the close of another California summer. Unlike last year at this time, we’re not moving – yet – but that’s coming. Boxes are half-packed, projects are wrapping up, priorities are shifting, and we’re hopeful about future endeavors. We’re about to hit the road again — and , yes – we’ve been saving toward to a trip to Scotland sometime this autumn. It doesn’t hurt to have something waiting in the wings, to anticipate. Without these things, life tends to be just a little … flat, somehow.

On D’s end of the world, projects have really changed. We’d made a commitment to actually move in the location of one of his work-sites, but felt we’d be better served by waiting for a different project to come along. Finger crossed, we’ll know something more today! It’s been strange for D. to have been on two projects already this year, but he’s hopeful that longer-term positions – with fewer corporate politics – are on the horizon.

Meanwhile, T., who started a novel to give herself a break from revising a different one, has finally finished the replacement novel… and, right now, likes it better. Her agent is both amused and ambivalent. “Okay, then, give me that one,” is his response. Meanwhile, during the polishing of various pages, the beginnings of three other novels have sprouted in her head… so many ideas, so little time, and so much pouting when it comes time for revisions. Typical, typical.

It has been a beautiful summer. Aside from the spike during the first week of July – which we spent in Baltimore, trying to breathe water – the weather has been a lovely thing. The nippy nighttime lows in the 40’s/10’s and the days in the balmy 70’s-80’s/high 10’s-20’s, has made the days roll past pleasantly. We’ve made sure to keep our California Residency Kits nice and updated by both mucking about in the dirt a little bit – our Garden Away From Home has produced tomatoes, lovely cucumbers, and a watermelon is getting to the proper size at last – and tie-dyeing a few things, as one does when one lives here. ☺ (T. was born in San Francisco. Some things just come with the territory.)

Ice Dying 1.5

We have had fun exploring a new form of dyeing which includes ice. Very correct for summer, indeed! We took soda-ash treated fabric and crumpled the damp fabric on stacked racks in the sink. We piled on crushed ice onto the top layer until the fabric was entirely covered, and then sprinkled powdered dye in various spatterings all over it. It’s not exactly tie-dye, it’s a bit more random, especially with the effect of the dilution/dripping from the melting ice from one layer to the next. The combination of splotches, drips, and the sharper colors from the dye concentrate remind us of Monet’s blurry impressionistic pointillism. We’re looking forward to finding better surfaces and doing a big project like a set of sheets. (The porcelain sink really did not love us for mucking about in it, but oh, well. Onward!)

In the midst of our happy, there is a bit of sad giving us some perspective. T’s kid sister is stuck in the hospital this week with a failing kidney. This latest bump on the road to failure, while imminent for a long, long time, coincided with the first week of her senior year in high school, which is just a big, fat crock of crap. Usually a girl with a penumbra of attitude and energy that extends three feet in any direction, now she’s drained and exhausted — and suddenly looks pretty small, which is a hard dose of reality to her family and friends. We continue to keep our fingers crossed that bed rest and massive antibiotics will let her pull out just one more year of use out of her gimpy kidneys, so she can wave goodbye to high school in style.

While others cheer the return of school rooms or favorite TV shows, for us, autumn is about the house being cool enough to bake! We eyed Smitten Kitchen’s almond crisped peaches, but never managed to make them, as the peaches – so huge and lovely from the Dixon Fruit Market – have simply never lasted long enough in this house! That’s a recipe to come back to, however.

Low Carb Lemon Teacakes

In early March, there was a round of medical visits which gave us some expected – but unwelcome – news – heredity strikes again. Our families on both sides tend toward diabetes, and though we’re largely healthy, our internal organs had been showing some signs of wear. In an effort to prepare for what the doctor’s prognosis of the inevitable, we’ve changed some of our dietary habits for good. What’s been missing from our diets for the last six months? Conspicuous consumption of carbohydrates.

…not fats. Some people are surprised by that, but we were not… we’ve had an inkling all along that it wasn’t the butter or the eggs but the sugar that was going to ding us in the end. It makes us a little grumpy to be right…:sigh:.

As everyone knows, changing any dietary habit is really difficult – but tinkering with one of the building blocks of the food group seemed, at first, pretty dire. The name of this blog, way back in – sheesh, 2004? – was “Wish I Were Baking.” It wasn’t “Wish I Were Steaming Kale,” although that’s a fairly awesome name if you’re not obsessed with getting the perfect rise from a loaf of artisan bread. There was a lot of mental adjustment that had to take place, we knew, if any changes were going to be successful. If you look at a required change in your life as a tragedy… you can forget about it happening. We firmly elected to still find things to enjoy.

With that attitude in hand, we’ve been relieved to discover that it’s not been very hard. (Faced with the choice of your liver and pancreas imploding in flames, or drinking unsweetened iced tea instead of soda, what choice would you make?) Not only that, we’re enjoying the challenge. Cooks and bakers have had hundreds and thousands of years to perfect baking with traditional ingredients – flours, sugars, etc. – but there’s a lot less out there about tasty, healthy low-carb ingredients. (Please note the preface “tasty” before “healthy.” There’s enough out there that does not include either of those two things, trust us.) We’ve been waiting eagerly for the days to cool a bit, before launching ourselves into baking again. We’ve made a few experimental forays – which we haven’t photographed.

Low Carb Banana Cake

We call those things that don’t get on camera “Learning Experiences.” There were The Waffles of Brickyness, when Axel was visiting, which were the heaviest things we’d ever eaten. We learned from that, of course; namely that coconut flour is ALL FIBER and must be used sparingly and with some gluten powder, for goodness sakes. Most recently, the Pear Tart of Awful was a completely unnecessary disaster – fresh pears, lemon zest, vanilla, almond flour… and a sneaky quarter teaspoon of xanthan gum some bright light decided to include. What is xanthan gum for? Not homemade pear tarts, T.. Next time, we’ll stick to adding it to the one recipe we bought it for. Ugh. A shame, when we’d even made it vegan and everything… :sigh: Time to repeat the Test Kitchen Mantra: We cook, we fail, we move on.

Of course, we can’t go on and on about the amusing failures without discussing the successes. The slightly crumbly pigs-in-blankets – we hadn’t quite learned how almond flour worked, but those were tasty, even if they didn’t quite stay together. And, Lemon tea cakes, anyone? Yes, please. Tender and fragrant and a perfect combination of citrus and sweet. Very tasty, and quick, which was fun. A “throw-it-together” banana bread also turned out well, which just proves that you can make banana bread anytime, anywhere, out of pretty much anything. We are pleased with the lift the quick breads have – a really nice crumb, so we’re encouraged to keep trying! Up next will be a made-over recipe for the date slice we loved so well in Scotland – aka a date bar. A short almond crust, chopped pecans, and dates… yum. We’re also eying a lemon poundcake made with coconut and almond flour – dense, moist, and citrussy heaven. And, once they’re almost foolproof, recipes to follow.

Not every dish can have the natural sweetness of dates or bananas – sometimes, you just need rich, bitter chocolate. Our experiments with sweeteners in that vein have been mixed. There are tons of sugar substitutes – sugar alcohols – on the market – but only a very few which do not cause gastric distress in the amounts used in baking. However, we’ve had success in mixing a little bit of this, and a little bit of that – a blend of stevia and erythritol, the sugar substitute popular in Japanese cuisine, has seemed to work well thus far. Interestingly, erythritol isn’t all that sweet – it’s about 70% as sweet as sugar. However! With the addition of vanilla, one can trick the brain into thinking it’s eating something much sweeter. (We got this tip from a recent issue of Nature.) All these experiments and recipe makeovers are a work in progress, and the amount of small successes we’ve had has encouraged us to try bigger things… like that pear tart. :shudder: Well, we’re not fans of the idea of a “test kitchen” for nothing…

Our best “discovery” has been almond flour – it is lovely and nutty – completely gluten free, and very low in carbohydrate. A couple tablespoons of vital wheat gluten helps it lift in quick breads or biscuits, and a little lemon zest gives it interest – it seems to need a little citrus punch to keep it from being too nutty/sweet – but we’ve not managed to figure out how to use it for yeast breads – and that’s okay. Perfection probably shouldn’t be messed with, so we’re looking forward to turning out the perfect, crusty loaf of sourdough rye – and learning to sprout our own grain – and just eating our daily bread sparingly, with gratitude.

Benicia 036

Truly: with gratitude. We’re down a few pounds, and feeling healthy. We have options. We have optimism, creativity and stamina, and a lot of garbage bags. We’re going to be just fine.

Nothing but blue skies ahead – and full ovens, soon. Happy autumn.

Anything Upside-Down

People have their misty, water-colored food nostalgia; our Uncle Phil talked frequently about the cakes of his childhood, thus we ended up seeking out dusty bottles of rum, jars of scary-red maraschino cherries, and having myriad cans of pineapple (and we haven’t yet tested the theory that it’s better with fresh) on hand at all times, lest an upside-down mood should strike. Uncle Phil has been gone awhile now, but every once in awhile, we get the urge to upside-down something. Something red, yes, but not artificially so. And we did without the rum. Just a quick trip to the freezer netted us the ingredients for Cardamom-Cranberry Upside-Down Cake.

This was a traditional mishmash of two recipes – one from Kraft, and a borrow from our own brains, not surprisingly. Kraft recipes seem to fear the inclusion of, actual spices, so you know we had to add cardamom. We state the recipe we began with, and include what actually happened during the baking process… The word “whatever” is used a great deal (which probably drives our friend Lorne UP A TREE, but it is what it is, dear friend. You like us anyway, right?) Consistency in a cake of this kind comes from creaming the butter and sugar, not about the weight of the flour. It’s an upside down cake – don’t expect a high-rising bundt, because that’s just not how this cake goes. Okay?

Sleepy, sloe-eyed cardamom pairs beautifully with the piquant burst of wakeful zest that is cranberry, and their happy do-si-do begins in a saucepan, where the tartness is caramelized with lovely brown sugar. Who cares that we used berries that had been in the freezer since Thanksgiving? It’s fine to eat seasonally in terms of shopping, but yay for freezers and dragging out the typical flavors of fall. Plus, since it’s nearly eleven on a fine May morning and it’s a whopping 56°F/13°C, it feels autumnal in the shade, anyway (what IS this wind???).

Cardamom & Cranberry, Upside Down

Preheat oven to 350°F or 175°C

Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 2

  • 1/2 C margarine or butter PLUS 1/3 cup of margarine or butter
  • 1 C brown sugar, well packed, PLUS one half cup
  • 4 eggs, Flax or Chicken – we used flax*
  • 4 Tbsp grated orange zest – we used about 7, but the Heavy-Handed With Spices among us do that
  • 7 Tbsp OJ – we used Odwalla tangerine, because that’s what was in the fridge
  • 1 Ground Cardamom pod – green hull, black inside bits, and all, We use a coffee grinder. No whole pod? Use 1/2 tsp.
  • 2 C Whole Wheat AP flour. Or, just AP flour. Or, just whole wheat. Or, cake flour. Whatever
  • 2 tsp Baking Powder
  • 1.5 C cranberries, fresh or frozen, whole or chopped

Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 3

  1. If you’re using Flax Eggs, make them first. Much of the time we just grind our flax seeds, mix them with the required water, and just dump them into the cake with the wet ingredients. Non-dairy foodies probably grind their teeth, but remember that word “whatever?” Um, yeah. Here’s the right way to do Flax Eggs: The ratio is 1 Tbsp of ground flax to 3 Tbsp of water = 1 egg. Make up your eggs in a small bowl, and let them sit, covered, in the fridge for about fifteen minutes until you’re ready to add them. This allows the flax to absorb the water, appropriately thicken and get goopy, and better imitate the chicken egg effect you’re after, in terms of binding and raising. Or, you can be a heathen like us, and just dump them in – but foodies do say this way is better. Up to you.
  2. Next, line the bottom of your springform pan with parchment, and give it a quick spray of some sort of cake release – PAM or otherwise. And yes, this may cause mild swearing and gnashing of teeth. We put the metal circle on the paper and trim it after we get the spring tightened. Because it’s just too annoying the nine other ways we tried it.
  3. Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 1

  4. FINALLY, you can get to the easy bit – the cooking. In a small saucepan, bring together 1/2 C margarine, 2 Tbsp orange juice and 1/2 c brown sugar over a medium flame, until you’ve achieved a slow lava bubbling. Add 1/2 c. cranberries, and stir constantly. You’re looking for a caramelization effect, so you’ll want to keep this stirring thing going for about fifteen minutes – enough time to create a thickly bubbling, deeply brownish-red sauce that is thickening, but not burnt. Take this bit slowly; it’s annoying to have to start over. If you feel you’re too thick, add a little OJ, or lower the flames and set aside to cool slightly, even if fifteen minutes haven’t passed. When it’s reached perfection, spoon it into the center of your springform, and smooth it in an even circle.
  5. In a small bowl, cream together butter and sugar. Add your eggs, zest, and OJ
  6. Bring your wet mixture together with your flour and baking powder and cardamom grounds a little at a time – since this is the cake method, you can beat the heck out of the stuff if you’d like, but small lumps are okay – you’ll have zest lumps, either way so stop when the batter stiffens
  7. Finally, stir in your cranberries. Ours were still frozen, and stiffened the batter still further, which made it interesting getting it into the springform, but we got there.

SET YOUR SPRINGFORM ON A SILPAT OR OTHER OVEN-PROTECTOR. When you’re working with berries in a springform, that’s just the name of the game – it will leak, almost always. Bake 1 hr. and 10 minutes, until the top (or really, the bottom that you can see) is deep golden brown. We checked our cake with a bamboo skewer at the one hour mark, but you know your oven best.

There is something buttery and lovely about this purely vegan cake, which won approval from the vegan-leery in our group. It’s not “health food” by any means – cake is cake, people – but it provides a healthier choice in that the Smart Balance margarine has less cholesterol, and the flax brings a bit of added fiber. Plus those gorgeous cranberries – yum! Tart-sweet, butter, dense, moist crumb – a really lovely late-Spring treat. Best eaten outdoors, in the company of friends.

Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 4Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 5Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 6Cranberry Upside-Down Cake 7

Uncompromised (vegan) Excess

Flax Crepes 2

Happy 12th! On this, the forty-third day of the Gregorian calendar, Charles Darwin and Abraham Lincoln were born, we arrived two days into The Year of the Snake (Gung Hay Fat Choy, incidentally), and the day was named Mardi Gras, Shrove Tuesday, or Pączki (pronounced punts-key) Day, if you’re Polish or on the East Coast. If you’re in the UK or its Commonwealth nations, it’s simply Pancake Day.

It’s always interesting when traditional celebrations become unmoored from the facts of the tradition. The pancakes – pączki, doughnuts, blintzes or beignets – are symbolic. We’re supposed to be indulging in excess before the simplicity and austerity of Lent. What’s funny is that in the U.S., most people don’t do anything about Mardi Gras unless a.) they’re going to NOLA for the big parade/party/drunkfest, or b.) if they’re Catholic/otherwise liturgical, and it’s part of their religious observance. As we’re neither big on crowds, hedonism or New Orleans, nor are we liturgy people (more’s the pity), until we moved to the UK, we didn’t do the whole pancake thing. However! February in Scotland, with its relentless drip and endless dreich drove us to a great need for celebration. We were SO prepared for an excuse for sweetness and butter. On with the pancakes!

Hold up a moment, though. Even a planned excess has to come with a tiny compromise, or tomorrow will be more than regrettable. Today’s food of revelry is going to contain no eggs, and no milk… does that mean it’s no longer a celebration food? How on earth do you make pancakes without dairy? Or, worse, what if you wanted crepes or blinis, known for their thinness and egg-and-milk laden batter? Your answer, dear people, is FLAX SEED. (Or, opposite the pond, LINSEED.)

Flax Crepes 1
Flaxseed Crepes

  • 2 cups flour
  • 6 cups water
  • 2 Tbsp flaxseed
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp lemon extract
  • 1 Tbsp oil
  • Spray oil, like PAM, to lightly oil pan
  1. Grind flaxseed
  2. Blend all ingredients in a blender until smooth
  3. Let mixture sit while your VERY lightly oiled pan is heating
  4. Ladle out a serving of batter (ladle or 1/4 c. measure) and tilt the pan to coat surface with batter
  5. Fry on one side until the edges start to peel up and the center
  6. Flip and fry on the other side for about 1/2 the time you fried the first side

Flax Crepes 3

The vegan approximate of ricotta is a package of silken tofu, fork mashed, and chunkily blended with 1/3 tsp. almond extract, vegan sour cream (like Tofutti brand), and a pinch of sugar and salt. If you’re looking for a vegan filling for a savory blintz, here’s a tasty one. If you are merely avoiding eggs, regular cream cheese can be used as a filling.

We covered our blinis with hot orange or apricot syrup, which we got by popping a jar of jam into the microwave. The crepes/blinis were surprisingly light and delicious, and nobody who ate them missed the egg and milk at all.

So now, eat, drink, and be merry. Enjoy your vegan excess, for tomorrow… we diet!

Double Chocolate Cookies

In the spirit of demonstrating that vegan baked goods can be just as good or better than the alternative (using eggs), D. decided to take advantage of the after-holiday sale on chocolate chunks. These cookies … well, they’re nearly gone, after the ravening hordes visited yesterday.

Double Chocolate Cookies

  • 3 Cups Flour
  • 1 Cup Cocoa Powder
  • 1 Tbsp Baking Powder
  • 1/2 tsp salt
  • 2 Cups Sugar
  • 1.5 Cups Margerine
  • 1 tsp Vanilla Extract
  • 1 Tbsp Instant Coffee
  • 3 Tbsp Flaxseeds, Ground
  • 1/4 Cup Water
  • 1 tsp Orange Zest
  • 1 bag Chocolate Chunks (12 oz)
  1. Cream butter and sugar
  2. Mix in wet ingredients and flaxseed
  3. Mix in dry ingredients
  4. Mix in chocolate chunks
  5. Shape into balls using a scoop or a pair of soup spoons, leaving the space of one ball between each cookie
  6. Bake for 10-15 minutes, depending on the size of your cookies
  7. Cool on a wire rack until set

The coffee and orange zest are subtle enough that you can’t really tell they’re there unless you’re told (we tested this on everybody who tried them). The chocolate chunks are just a bit sweeter than the cookies themselves, adding enough of a blast of sweet to make these interesting rather than over-the-top in terms of sugar. All in all, this is a good recipe to hang onto, and very addictive!

-D & T

Ginger-Spice Crackle Cookies

Ginger-Spice Crackle Cookies

These cookies are something of a combination of pfefferneuse cookies and ginger crackle cookies. They were going to be simply ginger crackles, but we didn’t have enough molasses (hence the honey in the recipe). Since the recipe was already going to be different, D. added more spices than called for, using the delicious Vietnamese Cinnamon our friends A & K gave us for Christmas (“true” cinnamon, rather than cassia – flavorful instead of just hot), and adding in some anise oil (also from A & K) just because.

These could probably have benefitted from some fresh and/or candied ginger, as well as the powdered. They are complex in flavor, and chewy (because of the honey). They’re also perhaps a tiny bit too sweet (also because of the honey). Also (note to self), “grease-proof paper” is not the same thing as “parchment paper” – if you use grease-proof paper, be sure to spray some non-stick cooking spray before putting down the cookies, as otherwise you’ll be fighting to get them to release.

One other thing to note: baking these on a cookie sheet gives them less lift and less “crackle,” plus turns the bottoms a bit too dark. If you have a silicone baking sheet, do use it. We’ve found it’s easiest to use parchment paper (so you can roll everything out all at once) and to slide that onto the baking sheet, leaving the baking sheet in the oven directly on the rack.

  • 1 1/2 Cups margarine
  • 2 Cups granulated sugar
  • 2 Tbsp flaxseed, ground
  • 2 Tbsp water
  • 1/2 Cup molasses
  • 1/2 Cup honey
  • 5 Cups flour
  • 4 tsp baking powder
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 4 tsp ground ginger
  • 4 allspice berries, ground (grind with the flaxseeds)
  • 4 tsp Vietnamese cinnamon (or 3 tsp “regular” cinnamon)
  • 4 drops anise oil
  • dash nutmeg
  • Granulated sugar for rolling
  1. Cream sugar and margarine
  2. Mix in water, flaxseed, spices, salt, molasses, and honey
  3. Mix in flour and baking powder
  4. Shape into a round and divide into 8 pieces
  5. Shape each piece into a round and divide into 8 pieces again
  6. Shape each piece into a round and roll in granulated sugar – do not flatten
  7. Bake on silicone baking sheet at 350°F / 165°C for 12-14 minutes
  8. Let cool thoroughly before eating

We didn’t do so much in the way of baking this year, still having not quite settled into the kitchen. This is an effort to truly inhabit the kitchen for something other than simply sustenance.

-D & T

Rose Apples and Toms

Vallejo 138

While photographing these wee birds, a neighbor pulled around us in her red car and took off down the hill. Most of the turkeys gave chase! Ridiculous beasts.

Imagine being the first person to decide to eat one of these things. What on earth possessed that person? Now, granted, this is not an omnivore criticism; people must have had these same sorts of first thoughts about artichokes – great thorny beasties, what makes you think they’re edible? – or asparagus – foul-smelling and rather thick grass; are you sure you want that? – but turkeys are as ugly as buzzards (not the British kind, which are just large raptor-hawks. ACTUAL turkey vultures are commonly called turkey buzzards, so called because of their egregiously naked red turkey-like heads), their naked wattles looking like elderly plucked skin, and they have spikes on their foreheads! Imagine – Benjamin Franklin wanted this to be the national bird. One wonders how many times he was struck, playing with that lightning…

This time last year would have been our first show – Christmas at the Musicals, which was always fraught, since inevitably there were storms or high winds or something to make the mostly over-sixty crowd of musical aficionados only come to the matinee showing, leaving the late show virtually empty. Singers this time of year get used to that, and sing anyway. We wish the best to the City of Glasgow Chorus as next weekend is their last show of 2012! We miss you guys, and will think of you and glitter and flashing lights during the intermission. ☺ Meanwhile, we have two programs left here as well – one the 22nd, and one the 24th, and then we’re looking forward to doing a great deal of nothing in particular until a few weeks in January where we’ll be singing The Mass of the Nativity again. While our church choral groups are small and don’t come with massive orchestras, there is something to be said for the intimacy of singing with a string quartet or just a piano, and actually hearing all voices and all parts at all times. We are grateful that it has been a good experience so far.


Experimental foods are on offer every winter, when we have time and inclination to bake, but T’s not often the one getting too involved. This time she jumped in with an easy and quick dessert to take along for chorus potluck this weekend. Critical response ranged from cautious to enthusiastic, and we’re excited to have a willing audience for which to bake and cook again. We also wished we’d remembered to photograph these pies after they were baked, and when they were cut, but it’s a bit hard to do that in a group – “No, wait, don’t eat it! I’m photographing! – so you’ll just have to take our word this time that they were pretty. Next time we’ll maybe use two apples per pie – and we’re looking forward to experimenting with bases and other flavorings.

Apples have long been associated with the rose, because they’re part of the same family. (Surprise!) It’s common enough to see people use peels to create apple roses, but T. decided to use the entire apple to make a very fast rose tart. The only regret she has is forgetting to splash rosewater on the crust and top of the pie post-baking, while the fragrance could be imbued, but she will remember to do so next time…

Cranberry Apple Flower Tarte 2

This easy pie (which should have been a tart, but the tart pan was hiding) begins with homemade cranberry sauce, which is easy enough to make. Here’s our basic recipe: – 1.5 cups of fresh cranberries, a cup of sugar, and two tablespoons of orange juice and orange zest simmered over low heat. Many recipes call for additional water, but we don’t add any until the berries are popped. To enable this sauce to double as pie filling, add a heaped tablespoon of cornstarch dissolved into a half cup of water. (Note that we added this to cold sauce; if you added it to the hot, it will thicken quickly, so be ready for that!) Then add a tablespoon of molasses, 1 tsp. ginger, cloves, and allspice (or 1 tbsp. garam masala spice blend) and a half cup of additional sugar. If the mixture gets too thick, add another half cup of water, but you want the flavor fairly intense, so only add as much as you need.

Next, we assembled pastry crusts – quick cheater crusts from the freezer section of the grocery this time, but homemade, if you have time/inclination, is obviously better. We filled each crust to the halfway point. Our pans are deeper than traditional pie pans, and we’d quadrupled our sauce recipe, so we had plenty of extra. (If you have limited supply, just try for a single pie!) And then came the fun part – the apples.

If you have an old-fashioned corer-peeler as we did (no idea what happened to that, either. It’s with the tart pan), it’s easy enough to crank out thin ribbons of peel and spiraled apples… but unless you have a VERY shallow pie pan, this isn’t really what you want. The wider the peel and apple, the more rose-like your pie will be, so grab a simple cheese-slicer and peel the apple as carefully as possible. Pieces will break – don’t worry about them. Just peel as cleanly and as evenly as possible.

Cranberry Apple Flower Tarte 1

Arranging the apples is subjective, of course – what looks rose-esque to us will look dahlia-like to you. The one trick we can suggest is to be sure to begin each piece of new apple with an overlap of about a quarter inch inside of the previous strip. Also, using the peeled edges up reinforces the flower idea.

We baked the pies for twenty-five minutes at about 350°F/175°C. Don’t go overboard – it’s easy to over bake these, but as they cool, the filling will settle. Have faith in them – apples contain pectin, and together with the cornstarch, they will gel that molten cranberry lava! Serving these pies when they’re slightly overdone is somewhat tricky, as, after cooling the apple peels are difficult, but if you make that tiny mistake, no fear – snipping them with a kitchen scissor first and then cutting along the snip-line worked. Again, a soupçon of rosewater would have made these match in both fragrance and appearance, but that’s for when the pie is served hot.

We did a lot of music this weekend, a lot of baking, a lot of decorating. We broke out the garlands and the old clay crèche. Glitter glue, pine cones, ribbon – all in the spirit of decorating, something which, while wandering the world, we’ve kept at an absolute minimum, or ignored altogether for years upon years. We kept the stereo playing a mix of classical music and the less invasive carols, and we kept outside media to a minimum – with good reason. Sometimes, it’s best to keep the broken world at bay. It’s as T’s friend, Gregory K. wrote this morning on his poetry blog (which we’ve borrowed without his permission, but we don’t think he minds):**

Untitled, 12/16/12
Greg K Pincus © 2012

Sing, dance, quilt, make art
Share the work that’s in your heart
Sculpt, act, paint, and write
Answer dark with waves of light

Last night, we placed a tea light in the secondhand wire angel T. brought home, and turned out the lamps. The lone candle was a pinpoint flicker in a too-large room. But even a small illumination is the difference between blindness and sight.

Hold to the light.

**Please, DO attribute if you use anyone’s poem, including Gregory K’s.

Celebrating St. Julia With Faux Crab Cakes

Faux Crab Waffles 1

It’s not that the French never eat crab cakes – we daresay that French omnivores do – it’s just that Julia Child never got around to putting them in a cookbook. Never mind; we celebrated what would have been that grand dame’s 100th birthday on the 15th of August by taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy. (And, if that sounds more like Miss Frizzle than Julia Child, well. They have that same adventurous, crazy lady spirit in common.) We made faux crab cakes, as they’ve been called around the blogosphere, but what we’ve always referred to as veggie latkes.

It’s the perfect time of year for it — there are just tons of zucchini – or courgettes – overrunning the Farmer’s Market on the weekends and perhaps your own home gardens. It’s a summer staple we can count on, dry season or wet, and they’re especially fat and good-looking this year. The recipe is simple, and once you’ve done the first steps, it’s quick – but it’s only, as all recipes are, a guideline. Use up the dry seasonings and possibly less fresh crackers around your house for some tasty variations.

Summer Celebration Veggie Latkes

Allow yourself an hour for this.

  • 2 cups coarsely grated zucchini, pattypan, or crookneck squash
  • Faux Crab Waffles 2

  • Salt
  • 1 cup bread crumbs (we used panko, but you can use crackers or old baguette)
  • 1 Egg, beaten
  • 2 Green Onions, thinly sliced – use entire scallion
  • ¼ cup finely diced sweet red pepper (optional)
  • 1 ½ teaspoons Old Bay seasoning
  • 1 teaspoon Dijon Mustard
  • 1 Tablespoon Mayonnaise (or plain yogurt)
  • Juice of ½ Lemon
  • a pinch or two of cayenne flakes – or a dash or two of Tabasco
  • vegetable oil, for shallow frying – no olive oil, as its smoke-point is low. Try canola, peanut, or sunflower.

(You might notice with aggravation those skosh, smidge, and pinch measurements in our recipes. If, unlike us, you don’t have measuring spoons which use those words ☺ just substitute about an eighth of a teaspoon for these words.)

Faux Crab Waffles 3

  1. IMPORTANT: After grating the zucchini, place it in a colander; sprinkle lightly with salt (NOTE: DO NOT use koshering salt – its fine flakes stick to the veg, and you’ll end up with squash that is WAY TOO SALTY. Can you extrapolate that we know this from experience?), allow to stand for 30 minutes then drain it by dumping it into a towel and twisting it. Squeeze to remove additional liquid – zucchini should be fairly dry – pat it dry, dump it in a bowl, and …
  2. Heat your oil in your skillet,
  3. Dump onions, peppers, seasonings, egg, and finally, breadcrumbs into your bowl, and stir to combine. We add the bread crumbs absolutely last, in order to keep them as crisped as possible. Using your hands or an ice cream scoop, form the zucchini into golf-ball sized rounds, and then flatten them.
  4. Fry both sides until brown. Or, we put them from two-to-five minutes into an oiled waffle iron. We think shallow frying them produced a crispier finish, which was tastier.

There are all manner of sauces people serve with crab cakes – citrus based remoulades (which is just a heavily citrus mayonnaise), lemon-dill sauces, or ranch-style mustardy dressings, but what we enjoyed the most was tzatziki. It’s a light, bright, yogurt-based sauce which refreshes the palette from the sometimes rich and oily latkes (some people use cheese in their latkes, which makes them heavier) and is a quite tasty contrast.

Faux Crab Waffles 4

To make a tzatziki, place a container of plain yogurt in a cheesecloth lined colander overnight. This thickens it to a Greek-yogurt style consistency (Or, you can just start with Greek yogurt – but none of that garbage inferior nonfat stuff, please). Peel and finely chop two cucumbers – and then use the same towel-wringing trick to remove some of their excess water – it can make a runny sauce, otherwise. Four cloves of roasted garlic, 1/2 red pepper, finely chopped, 1 small shallot, chopped, four Tbsp. of lemon juice, one Tbsp. of canola oil, 1 Tbsp. finely chopped mint, AND cilantro, 1 Tbsp. sugar, salt to taste — and you’re nearly there. Tzatziki varies from different areas of Greece, no doubt, and this version is hardly authentic. But it was tasty on our inauthentic crab cakes, and you can fiddle with it until it works for you.

Enjoy these last few mouthfuls of summer, and cheers to St. Julia, who reminded us of the joy of cooking.