Kate's in a pickle

Work lunch: Miso white bean soup with bacon and kale

2012-01-11T13:02:00.000-08:00

Hello from my lunch break, everybody. I thought I'd show you the chic spot where I eat most mid-day meals.

Check out that stylish desk phone!

We're 11 days into the New Year, but already 2012 has been a busy one for me: less time for blogging, more time for working, hula hooping, and cooking at home. I figured you're also pressed for time, so let's have desk lunch together.

To our virtual picnic, I've brought a round of Babybell cheese, a slice of apple tart and miso white bean soup (with bacon and chard, zuh.) Please excuse the sub-par photos I took with my cell phone just now.

You can make a French apple tart like this one by reading the "Apple Butter Magic" post on Dramatic Pancake. (Actually, Dinah's apple tarte tatin is way sexier than the one I baked.)

I concocted this soup last night around 10. Starting a soup with just-soaked beans at 10 ensures that you'll be up past midnight, waiting for the beans to finish cooking. Despite the late hours, I think that night-time is the best time to experiment with soup. I'm a bit sleepy and loopy and crazy enough to try new things.

I'll give you my best approximation of how to make it. You should have just enough time to finish your lunch and bookmark this recipe before you bop along in your day. If you throw some beans into water for a soak when you get home from work, we can make more of this soup together tonight!

Miso White Bean Soup with Bacon and Kale

from my fevered mind

2 cups small white beans
2 slices smoked bacon
1 - 2 stalks celery, diced
6-10 green onions, sliced
1 cup carrots, diced
2 fresh garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. oregano
2 cups low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth
1 1/2 cups fresh kale, torn into small pieces
1/2 cup fresh mire poix veggies or 1 Tb. dried mire poix (optional)
1/4 cup mild white miso paste
bay leaf

Soak the beans in cold water for 4 - 8 hours. Discard the water and pour beans into a medium-sized soup pot. Cover beans with enough water to have 4 - 5 inches of water on top. Bring the water and beans to a boil, along with a pinch of salt. Let the beans cook at a low boil while you chop veggies.

In a skillet, cook the bacon slices 'till they're crispy. Use a pair of kitchen shears to cut the bacon into small pieces and set the bacon aside. Saute the carrots, green onion, and garlic in the bacon grease-coated skillet.

Stir broth (veggie or chicken) and the miso paste into the simmering beans. It'll take a while for the miso to dissolve, and you may want to add a little more to taste. If the broth is too salty, add more water. The broth should taste slightly salty and have a faint ring of miso flavor. Toss in a bay leaf, then add the sauteed vegetables, kale and bacon pieces.

Let the soup simmer until the beans are soft. Adjust the seasonings before serving (Does it need more water? More miso?) and serve.

I've added a sprinkle of furikake seasoning to it for a nice Japanese touch (you can find furikake at Uwajimaya), but a swirl of Sriracha chili sauce is always in style.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Butternut squash soup

Potato and caramelized onion soup

Cozy lentil-squash soup

Escape the family with fruitcake

2011-12-23T12:00:00.000-08:00

Is family time getting you down? Would you like to escape your relatives and get some "me time" during the crazy Christmas shuffle? If the answer is yes, now is the time to cultivate a burning desire to bake fruitcake. Become obsessed. Decide that Christmas isn't Christmas until there's a big plate of home-made, alcohol-spiked, fruity cake on the table.

The Diva of Domesticity, Martha Stewart, says the rhythm of creating a fruitcake can be soothing during the holiday rush. She also says you can excuse yourself from holiday obligations by saying "the fruitcake needs tending."

Depending on how patient you care to be, fruitcakes can take between one day and one year to finish. The process breaks down into three steps:

1. Chopping an infinite number of fruits and nuts and soaking them in rum for a day or twelve. (I hear that in the Bahamas, people soak the fruits and nuts in rum for several months before assembling the cake!)

2. Baking the cake on low heat, then brushing it with brandy while it's still warm. (Fans of alcohol abstinence may substitute delectable fruit juices for the brandy glaze.)

3. Letting the cake "cure" for a day, a week, or a year...and brushing it intermittently with rum to keep it moist.

If the idea of "aging" fruitcake scares you, try to think of fruitcake as a sweet variety of cheese; it must ferment for the flavors to develop.

Do you know what this needs? More rum!

My mom went on fruitcake kick for a while. I remember her buying giant jars of red and green candied cherries for it. She doubled the recipe and filled the kitchen with gift-size fruitcakes, wrapped in colored cellophane. I'm pretty sure she skipped the rum part, but I was also too young then to know the difference. Whether boozy or not, I thought those fruitcakes were sure fun. Anything involving green maraschino cherries has to be fun, right?

Now that I've tried baking fruitcake, (loosely) based on the recipe mom used, I know that fruitcakes are a labor of love. By chopping the nuts, candying the fruits, letting the cakes age...you're basically creating an edible testament to the triumph of the human spirit. If dotty Aunt Dottie ever presents you with a home-made fruitcake, know she's also giving you hours of her hard work and thank her accordingly.

At the outset, I thought I could buy pre-candied fruits at the store, stir in the nuts and bake the cake in under an hour. When the store-bought red-and-green cherries tasted like dirt and sawdust--even after a good soak in rum--I candied the contents of our kitchen fruit bowl (tangerines) along with some cranberries and apricots. Once I candied the fruit, I thought, "In for a penny, in for a pound! Let's soak everything in rum for a day, too!"

Once the cakes baked, I wrapped them tightly and let them age in the fridge for a week, brushing them with a bit of brandy every few days. If you'd like to bake this in time for Christmas dinner, just let the filling soak in brandy all day today, then bake the cakes Christmas morning and serve. You could also start a new Christmas tradition: bake the fruitcake, wrap it tightly, and let it age in the freezer until next Christmas. People do this!

I hope you're able to incorporate some fruitcake into Christmas this year. Call it "me time" or share the prep with your family. Also, from my nutty heart to yours, have the happiest of holidays--whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, or just winter solstice.

(I first wrote about baking these fruitcakes for OPB's Arts & Life page. They did a whole article on how people either love fruitcake or love to hate it. Check out the controversy here!)

Crazy Aunt Fruitcake
liberally adapted from Janice Scott’s Brazil Nut Loaf

Makes 2 quick bread loaves or four mini-loaves

Fruits and Nuts:

1 cup walnuts
1 cup roasted & salted cashews (Brazil nuts or pecans)
8 oz. pitted dates, diced (about 1 heaping cup)
½ cup dried apricots
1 cup red maraschino cherries, drained and soaked in rum
1 cup fresh-frozen cranberries
¾ cup glacéed (candied) tangerines or orange peel (with a little fruit left on) (glaze = ½ cup sugar & ½ cup water)
1 cup spiced rum (yes, you’ll have leftovers)

Batter:

1 1/2 C flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 1/2 C sugar
6 medium eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla

The day before (or up to a week before):

Drain half the liquid from 10 oz. maraschino cherries. Replace the drained liquid with spiced rum. Let the mixture sit.

Snip the dried apricots into quarters, then soak them in a small bowl filled with hot water. Let them sit for 30 - 60 minutes while you dice the dates and prep other fruit.

Use kitchen shears to cut the dates into small squares. Place the dates in a medium-sized bowl. When the apricots are re-hydrated, drain the water and douse the fruit with spiced rum. Stir the dates and apricots well. Place a clean cloth over the bowl and let the fruits soak up more rum. Stir the fruit every so often.

Glacé the tangerines. Slice six small tangerines into quarters, using a sharp knife to cut away most of the fruit. Keep the rind plus a ¼” of fruit on each slice. Next, bring ½ cup water and ½ cup sugar (plus any tangerine juice you can save from your cutting board) to a boil in a saucepan. Stir in the tangerine rinds and let them roll on a medium boil for 5 - 10 minutes, until the skins turn semi-translucent and the syrup reduces.

While the citrus is being candied, take a cup of frozen cranberries and place them in a heat-proof bowl.

Remove glacéed tangerines from heat and poured the mixture over the cranberries. Let everything sit for a few minutes before stirring together the candied citrus, still-whole cranberries, and sweet syrup. Top with (you guessed it) rum, cover the bowl, and let the fruit sit.

On the day of baking:

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease two loaf pans. Line the pans with parchment paper, then grease the paper. Set aside.

Drain the excess brandy off the fruits, but SAVE THE LIQUID. You’ll need it later, to brush the cakes with while they cure.

Stir the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar together in a large bowl. Dump in the nuts and preserved fruits, and mix everything together with your hands. Set aside.

Wash your hands, then — using a clean, even larger bowl — beat the eggs with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla. Add in the fruit/nut mixture a cup or two at a time, mixing on a low speed. (You could also work with your hands again here.)

Pour the batter into your baking pans. Bake for between 1 ½ hours and 1 hour 45 minutes at 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Peel away the waxed paper while the loaves are still hot. Brush the cakes lightly with rum while they’re still warm.

You could eat the cake now, or you could go for the gold and:

Let the cake cool, then wrap in rum-soaked cheesecloth. Place the loaves in an air-tight container for a week, checking every so often to add more rum to the cloth. Cure the cake for at least a week or even a month in a cool place (like the fridge.)

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Ms. Rita's Banana Bread
Drunken berry cobbler
Dried fruit pie

Chai-spiced pumpkin streusel bread...in pictures

2011-11-24T11:00:00.000-08:00

I'll bet you're busy with Thanksgiving preparations. Do you have time to read a long, heartfelt post about Thanksgiving? No.

Do I have time to write one? No. I've got candied yams and cranberry sauce to make. Instead of foisting a lengthy hunk of written word on you, I'll show you how to make chai-spiced pumpkin streusel bread. In pictures. Give your brain a break today!

First, assemble the best ingredients you've got. I scrounged up organic brown sugar, unsalted Rose Valley butter, sea salt, Stash tea, Oregon hazelnuts and my favorite Kansas flour, Hudson Cream (which I found it at The Dollar Tree, of all places.)

Don't forget the pumpkin! You'll use a whole can of pumpkin puree for this bread; spring for the good stuff.

Grease two loaf pans and preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Steep 4 - 6 bags of chai tea in 3/4 cup hot water. I chose double spice Stash tea for extra punch, but you don't have to live that dangerously.

This photo is an excuse to showcase my 1970s mixing bowls

Stir together the dry ingredients (flour, salt, spices, optional dry chai mix) in a large bowl. Whisk together the eggs, sugar, oil/butter, tea concentrate and pumpkin in another bowl.

Whisking helps offset the calories from the mashed potatoes you will eat today. Keep that in mind as you whip together the pumpkin, sugars, and oils.

Whiskin' ain't easy, folks

Pour the wet ingredients into your flour mixture, then stir until just combined.

It's like a lava flow of delicious, isn't it?

At this point I should tip my hat to Lauren, who let me borrow her camera for this baking adventure. She also took half of the photos, in case you wondered how I photographed myself mixing batter with both hands.

Please wait until after pouring the batter into the bread pans to lick the whisk. I'm pretty sure the oven will bake out any cook cooties, but not 100 percent sure.

Divide the batter evenly between the pans, then create the streusel topping. I use my hands to mix together the chopped nuts, butter, sugar and flour in a small bowl. If you're feeling fancy, you could use a pastry cutter for this part.

Sprinkle the streusel on top...

Then bake for 60 - 70 minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. While you wait, sneakily eat some batter.

Don't mind me!

You'll know the bread is done when your house smells like fall and a knife inserted into the center of each loaf comes out clean. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of each pan, then turn out onto a cooling rack.

Let the bread cool for at least 30 minutes before slicing . This is the hardest part.

Serve on a pretty plate or wrap up the bread for later.

Happy Thanksgiving, all. I'm so glad I've met you. If we ever meet in person, I'll bake this bread for you and we can enjoy it with coffee.

You can find the full story behind this pumpkin bread here at OPB.

Chai-Spiced Pumpkin Streusel Bread
makes two loaves

Ingredients

2 ½ cup organic (if you’ve got it) cane sugar
¼ cup powdered chai mix - optional
1 cup butter, unprocessed coconut oil or canola oil (I use ½ butter, ½ coconut)
⅔ cup hot water and 4 - 6 bags chai tea
4 eggs
15 oz. can pumpkin puree (about 2 cups)
3 ½ cups flour
2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. nutmeg
½ tsp. cloves
½ - 1 tsp. cardamom

Streusel Topping

¼ cup brown sugar, packed
½ cup nuts (any combination of walnuts, pecans or hazelnuts), chopped fine
2 Tb. flour
2 Tb. softened butter

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and steep the tea bags in hot water. Grease two bread pans with butter or oil.

In a large bowl, whisk together the sugar, oil and eggs until fluffy and creamy. Stir in pumpkin and chai tea until smooth. In a smaller bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda, spices and dry chai mix. Mix the dry ingredients into the bowl of wet ingredients, stirring until just combined.

Pour the batter into the bread pans and set aside.

For the streusel topping, mix together the softened butter, brown sugar, flour and chopped nuts in a small bowl. I typically use my hands to work everything together until the butter, flour and sugar have mixed into fine crumbs.

Sprinkle the streusel evenly over the top of both loaves and bake for about 60 - 70 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into each bread’s center comes out clean. Let the loaves cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then run a knife around the edges of each pan. Turn each loaf out onto a cooling rack. Once the bread is cooled, slice with a serrated knife and serve.

To keep the bread for later, wrap each cooled loaf tightly in plastic wrap, then again in aluminum foil. Keep the bread in the fridge (or freezer) until ready to eat.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Ms. Rita's banana bread

Apple pie with cranberries

Pumpkin cream cheese muffins

Yes, fall is here

2011-11-02T18:00:00.000-07:00

Fall has arrived, folks. I've been trying to deny it, trying to squeeze a few more verdant days out of Portland's pathetic excuse of a summer, but Halloween plopped its pumpkin ass down on my sofa. It gazed quietly into my eyes and whispered, "Fall's here, dude. Can't deny it. Check out the leaves."

Oooh! Nice couch!

A storm of raindrops and a parade of red, orange, and yellow leaves are flying by my window. Trees fling leaves like confetti. I've been pretending not to notice. It's November now. Time to wake up and smell the pumpkin spiced latte.

Thanks to Neighbor Kristen, I even carved a pumpkin and ate roasted pumpkin seeds! Kristen hosted 2011 The Great Pumpkin Carving at her apartment, followed by mulled wine an The Nightmare Before Christmas. Who could resist such a sincere invitation?

That's what I like about fall: the sincerity. We celebrate harvests, press apple cider, honor the spirits of those who came before us, then give thanks for those who are with us. We cuddle up with books, wear warm clothing, and snack our way to the holidays.

Instead of sharing an fall recipe for you, using the hippest ingredients of the season--like fresh nutmeg or caramel apple cider cookies--I'd like to share a few low-key ways my friends and I like to celebrate fall. There's still time for pumpkin lattes, roasted pumpkin seeds, and butternut squash before the holiday haze pushes them out of the way. Snuggle up and enjoy the foliage.

Classic Roasted Pumpkin Seeds

seeds from a freshly carved pumpkin. (Some grocery stores sell seeds still in the shell, or raw pepitas. These sub nicely.)
coarsely ground pepper
Worcestershire sauce
kosher salt
butter or olive oil (optional)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Lay a sheet of parchment paper in two baking sheets.

Rinse pumpkin seeds under cold water and pick out the pulp. This is easiest to do right after the pumpkin is carved and the pulp hasn't dried onto the seeds. If you've waited, you may want to soak the seeds in warm water to remove the pulp.

Pour the cleaned seeds into a bowl, then stir in Worcestershire sauce, a tablespoon or two of melted butter or olive oil, salt, and cracked pepper. Adjust the seasonings to suit your tastes.

Spread the seeds onto the baking sheets in a single layer. (You may need a third sheet if you carved a large pumpkin!) Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit until the seeds are toasted, about 25 - 35 minutes. The seeds should be a light golden brown. Serve immediately or let them cool and store in an airtight container.

** Playing with the flavors of roasted pumpkin seeds is half the fun. This version uses Worcestershire sauce to evoke fond holiday memories of Chex Mix, however, I also like to make these with soy sauce.

Neighbor Kristen is the queen of effortless entertaining. She can throw together a holiday fete in minutes, with as little as an open bottle of wine, freshly cooked popcorn, and a well timed mass text message.

Last weekend at the Great Pumpkin Carving, Kristen mulled this wine using her wily simmer-it-'till-you-make-it ways. Many people crash and burn (literally) when they cook on the fly; Kristen always wins when she cooks without script. It's the perfect thing to sip while you dance along to Jack Skellington's antics in Halloween Town.

Now this is Halloween!

Fast Mulled Wine
a la Neighbor Kristen

1 bottle of "skunked" - aka opened and unused - red wine
1/2 cup sugar
1 Tb. brown sugar if the red wine is particularly dry
1-2 Tb. mulling spices (Kristen recommends Penzys' brand)
zest of a fresh orange (optional)
4 oz. brandy (optional)

Whisk wine and sugar(s) together in a large saucepan. Add brandy, mulling spices, and orange zest. Bring the wine to a simmer but do not boil. Let the wine simmer for at least 20 minutes and serve. Mulled wine is also a great crock pot recipe; make a double batch and let it simmer all evening during a holiday party. Guests can sneak up for another ladle-full as needed.

Dr. Brian approves of mulled wine

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
sweet n' spicy curried nut mix
Cracker Jack peanuts
quickie pumpkin seeds
pumpkin cream cheese muffins

Emo Pasta

2011-10-14T21:18:00.001-07:00

Try as I might, I could not coax a good photo out of this pasta. Perhaps she is shy? She is shy and moody. Just look at those colors: intimate yet hesitant.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Emo Pasta. Do you remember those remote days (from the late '80s to the early 200s) when we called people emo? Before we thought about hipsters, we called kids with safety pins on their backpacks and chips on their shoulders emo...because saying "emotional" took too much effort. I don't know why, but this pasta feels like the Dashboard Confessional of comfort dishes. I hear it whining, "Maa! Leave me aloooone!" as it hides from the world under a pair of battered Skull Candy headphones. In other words, this introspective dish is perfect for fall, when we all pull back into ourselves and prepare for the cold times ahead.

This recipe leans on the last of your summer harvest and also brings in first of your preserves: tomatoes dried to chewy perfection in the oven, pesto from the last batch of basil you picked before frost appears in the mornings. Summery preserved lemons tumble brightly over winter kale. Buttery toasted walnuts round everything out.

I recommend creating your own oven-dried tomatoes from the last of your summer crop (or the last batch of good farmer's market tomatoes.) Wait until the next gloomy, rainy day that rolls around to make them. Just halve a dozen tomatoes, sprinkle them with salt, and bake at 300 degrees for four hours. Your oven will keep the house snug and warm while the tomatoes fill the kitchen with tomatoey fragrance.

As the tomatoes roast, you could set up a new jar of preserved lemons or take a walk in the October woods. Feel the pine needles crunch underfoot. See the leaves change before your eyes. Listen to the Smiths when no one is looking.

For those of you without woods nearby, you can walk in Portland's many parks and forests through my friend Stacy's blog: Weekend Walks from a Dog's Point of View. See the neighborhoods of our city through the lens of Nelly the dog--cats hiding on porches, dewy leaves, towering oaks, shimmering spider webs. By the time you've finished your fall walk--whether real or virtually--this pasta will be waiting, reluctantly.

Where is my Mead Composition Notebook?

Emo Pasta (aka Screaming Infidelities Pasta)
serves 4-6

1 box curly pasta (like fusilli)
1 cup home-made basil pesto, like this
1 cup fresh kale
2-3 Tb. lemon juice or water
slow-roasted tomatoes like these
1/2 cup walnuts
1-2 wedges preserved lemon
freshly shredded Parmesan to taste
red pepper flakes to taste

Phase 1: toasting the walnuts

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Arrange walnuts on a cookie sheet in a single layer, then bake for eight to 10 minutes, checking frequently. The walnuts should reach a light-golden brown and smell quite fragrant. Remove the walnuts and let them cool.

Phase 2: cooking pasta and prepping vegetables

Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil, then toss in the fusilli. Reduce the pasta to a rolling boil while you prep the veggies.

Using kitchen shears or a sharp knife, cut/slice the dried tomatoes into thin strips. Set aside. Dice a wedge or two of preserved lemon and set aside.

Wash the kale with cold water and pat dry with a towel. Chiffonade the kale: roll it into a big cigar, then slice it diagonally into thin strips. Toss the kale strips into the bottom of a pasta strainer. When the pasta is al dente (cooked through but firm to the tooth), drain it over the kale. This cooks the kale enough to turn it a vibrant green without cooking out those delicious vitamins and enzymes.

Phase 3: Profit!

Turn the kale and pasta out into a large mixing bowl. Toss in the walnuts (you may crush them a little with your hand for presentation/stress relief), sliced tomatoes, preserved lemon, and red pepper flakes. Stir in pesto and lemon juice until all of the curly little noodles are well coated, even a bit soupy and saucy. Adjust the amount of pesto and lemon juice to taste. Stir in 1/3 - 1/2 cup of fresh Parmesan and serve.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Radish-top basil pesto
Rigatoni with red pepper cream sauce
Cherry chili chocolate chip cookies

Foodie Adventure 3: can it and bake cobbler

2011-10-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

A few weekends ago, on the hottest day of the year in Portland, Lauren convinced me to drive to Sauvie Island and pick fruits and vegetables for canning. Why should we can food in my unconditioned house when it's over 90 degrees outside? Because Lauren and I are insane. When you combine her quest for Portland foodie adventures with my What Would Ma Ingals Wilder Do? compulsions, we're impractical and unstoppable.

I think we also wanted to chase away the specter of the day: the 10th anniversary of the September 11th attacks. We needed to soak up the sun, to spend time outside remembering that we were alive and that life is still good, even though a group of people did terrible things ten years ago.

We drove to Sauvie Island Farms--just 10 minutes north of Portland--with visions of blueberries and peaches dancing in our heads. Lauren wanted to can fresh peaches; I had my heart set on making both blueberry and peach preserves. Any hopes of finding summer fruits were dashed when we reached our destination, though.

See that peach? It was pretty much the only ripe-ish peach in the whole orchard. The ladies working the farm stand said we missed the best pickin's by a few weeks.

We focused instead on veggies. We picked pickling cucumbers and lemon cukes, zucchini (and zucchini blossoms as big as your hand), cauliflower, broccoli and corn.

Can you find the Kate in this picture?

Lauren and I still picked a dozen half-ripe peaches--beginning to blush pink on the outside, but still a few days away from softening into ripeness. (We had our hearts set on peaches, dammit!) We put them in a paper bag and left them alone until it was canning time.

Thank goodness we also stopped by Kruger's Farm Market down the street. They supplied all the fresh peaches, tomatoes, and blueberries we needed for canning....plus a fresh crop of tart apples. Lauren and I gave ourselves credit for "picking" this produce, since we purchased it on the property of a market that also doubled as a "you pick" farm. I'm glad we stopped by and bought more peaches here because, when I checked on the Sauvie Island Farms peaches two days later, they'd turned into squishy black fuzz-covered meteors in their paper bag. Tasty.

Prepping jars with cinnamon and a little citric acid

We canned the (non-black, non-moldy) peaches from Kruger's with cinnamon and a pinch of sugar. Lauren had the brilliant idea of throwing an entire cinnamon stick into each jar. Not only did the peaches taste lovely--each kissed with just a little bit of cinnamon--but they looked lovely in their jars, with the peach slices bobbing above the cinnamon stick below.

Lauren and I canned like crazy in that cramped, air-conditioning-free kitchen until after midnight. We listened to blues, country, and Motown. (Did you know that the Dixie Chicks complement The Supremes? And that Moreland and Arbuckle round them both out nicely?) We put up jam, over a dozen jars of pickles, peaches, cauliflower, and sweet corn relish. Even after an entire evening of canning, we'd barely processed half of the fruits and veggies we'd purchased.

We reconvened several days later for more canning: tomatoes with herbs from my patio garden, pickled daikon-and-carrot relish for Bánh mì sandwiches, and blackberry-blueberry "bruiser" jam. I'll be sharing some of our recipes over the next few days. Lauren will also feature a few on her website, Sinful Misadventures.

Lauren Flemming, Canning Goddess!

We learned many things from our canning adventures:

Canning tongs (pictured above) are the best $4 you'll ever spend on canning supplies. I'd been burning myself for years by trying to use regular tongs to remove the hot jars from the boiling water bath. (Canning is pain!)
The "pop" of a jar lid sealing itself, locking in deliciousness and locking out bacterial contamination, is one of the sweetest sounds on earth.
Friends and family members who return your jars after you give them canned goods as gifts are worth their weight in gold.
There's something empowering about preserving food you picked yourself, that same day, with a friend.

Before I break out the lengthy and comprehensive details about what we canned and how, I'd like to share something else with you: a recipe for the blackberry cobbler that sustained us as we chopped, preserved, and processed. You'll want a snack to tide you over when you can on your own.

Before baking 'till golden and bubbly.

I've been picking blackberries all summer. There's a sprawling patch of brambles less than a block from my apartment, something that just about every resident of the Pacific Northwest can boast. I've been picking a giant bowlful once a week since July, which means my freezer is FULL of quart-sized bags of fruit. Whether you use frozen berries or fresh ones--I've seen a few patches around the neighborhood still putting out fruit, this cobbler bakes the blackberries into thick, gooey submission.

Lauren, Raymond and I enjoyed our cobbler hot from the oven, with plenty of vanilla ice cream.

Double crust, double cinnamon, double good

Blackberry cobbler with double-cinnamon topping
heavily adapted from the Better Homes & Gardens 10th edition

1/3 cup sugar
1 Tb. cornstarch
4 cups fresh or frozen blackberries
1 Tb. fresh lemon juice, plus lemon zest

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 Tb. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
4 Tb. unsalted butter, cold
3/4 cup milk or buttermilk
2 tsp. cinnamon

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.

In a 2-quart saucepan, mix 1/2 cup sugar and cornstarch. Stir in the blackberries, lemon zest, and lemon juice. Cook over medium-high heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and boils. Keep stirring the blackberries while they boil for another minute. Pour the blackberry filling into a 2-quart ungreased casserole dish.

Mix together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and cinnamon in a medium bowl. Cut in butter using a pastry blender or crossed knives until the dough is reduced to fine crumbs. Stir in milk slowly, until just combined.

Drop the dough on top of the blackberry filling in generous spoonfuls (but don't drop the dough so forcefully that you burn yourself with blackberry filling. Not that I did that.) Bake the cobbler for 25-30 minutes, or until the topping is golden brown. Serve immediately.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Foodie Adventure 1: Beast
Foodie Adventure 2: DIY Coffee Roasting
Drunken berry cobbler
Cranberry-peach salad with ginger

PS: The photos in this post were taken with Lauren's insanely awesome Canon Rebel.

Key lime, fine times

2011-09-05T22:00:00.000-07:00

I've been reluctant to embrace key lime pie as an equal in the custard pie cannon. It's silky, it's citrusy, and it's not unlike my favorite pie ever (lemon sour cream.) But, instead of being over the moon for it, key lime pie has left a bad taste in my mouth. It has nothing to do with flavor, either.

You see, only Wild Women like key lime pie. Not amazing women who are also wild like Mae West or Jane Fonda or Pink. Wild Women who cultivate chaos in their lives..but who lack that stable center of self-awareness. Whirling dervishes who whirl without purpose.

I met my first one in high school, my first boyfriend's mother. She bleached her hair a crispy platinum blonde. She turned her home into a zany DIY project by painting walls brick red and canary yellow and upholstering dining room chairs with zebra-print fabric. She meant well and she forget to cook dinner. She loves loves loves key lime pie--with as much enthusiasm as she maintains for brightly colored nail polish.

Other Wild Women I've met share this brand of craziness. They smoke Newport Lights and take lovers and dream in excess. They're brassy, they wear white summer suits and they dream of retiring in Miami. They all love key lime pie. Like Annette Benning in Running With Scissors...

"I'll have a Tab and a key lime pie. Doesn't that sound good, Augusten?"
She smiles dreamily and closes her eyes.
"Key. Lime. Pie."

No, Annette Benning!
That does not sound good!
My teeth are going need therapy to recover from the idea of Tab cola and key lime pie!

Anyway, you know and I now know that using pie as a barometer for mental stability is...insane. It's right up there with picking a mate based on a favorite color or whether or not he likes Queens of the Stone Age. Duh, Kate. Crazy and pie are mutually exclusive.

The point finally sank in a few Thursdays ago. My friend Lauren --a wild woman not unlike Mae West, in the best way -- and I attended a last-minute author reading at Powell's, then skipped across the street for dessert at The Living Room Theaters. From the cafe, we watched all of the nightlife downtown. Kelly, our waiter, kept us company and didn't complain once as we cheerfully sang along with the music over the stereo. Lauren snapped photos of her dinner and took notes for a review on her site while I treated myself to an Americano and a slice of house-made key lime pie. We had the perfect Portland evening, on what just happened to be my second anniversary of living here.

After such a cozy evening with a friend--in such a dark and inviting cafe, with light sparkling from glass teardrops in the chandelier--my heart softened. It only took one tart, creamy bite before key lime pie entered my good graces.

In fact, I now like key lime pie so much, I bake it at home. Just a word of warning: people react violently to this pie. One woman cursed me because she loved it so much. A coworker who ate this pie told me that when the dollar becomes worthless and when the economy tanks completely, he would like to be paid in this pie. Hopefully, people will go just as crazy when you make it.

Coconut Key Lime Pie with Pretzel Crust
improvised from a King Arthur Flour recipe

about 6 oz. salted pretzels (1 cup crushed)
7 Tb. coconut oil
1/4 cup unbleached cane sugar

1 1/2 14-oz. cans sweetened condensed milk
3 large egg yolks
1/3 cup coconut milk
3/4 cup lime juice
zest of 2 limes
1 drop green food coloring (optional)
lime slices, shaved coconut, or pretzels for garnish (optional)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 9" pie pan with non-stick cooking spray.

Crush the pretzels until they're reduced to fine crumbs. (I used a blender for this, but a food processor works just as well.) Pour the crumbs into a small bowl, and mix in the coconut oil and sugar.

Press the crust filling into the bottom of the pie pan, then up the sides. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, then remove from the oven and cool.

Whisk together the egg yolks and sweetened condensed milk. Add the lime juice (and zest) and coconut milk, plus a drop of food coloring if you like. The mixture will thicken almost immediately; the citric acid in the lime juice reacts chemically with the sugar in the milk to "cook" the pie via souring. Freaky, I know.*

Pour the filling into the prepared crust and smooth the top with a spatula. Bake the pie for 28 to 32 minutes, until the top is almost completely set. There should be a smallish spot in the top that's still soft-looking; it'll firm up as the pie cools. Judge the doneness of the key lime pie the same way you would a cheesecake.

Cool the pie for several hours (or overnight) before serving. Top with whipped cream, lime zest, or crushed pretzels.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Candied citrus slices
Maple buttermilk pie
Sour cherry apple pie with root beer

21st Century Bagel

2011-08-08T21:00:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that I'm terrible at eating a proper breakfast during normal breakfast hours. At 2 am before bed? Sure. At 8:30 am? Please. I don't even have my makeup on then.

On weekends, I do breakfast up right--usually pan-cooked potatoes with onion and garlic, egg over medium, coffee and Postsecret--but that relaxed groove escapes me on weekdays. Monday - Friday, I'm doing well to breeze out the door with a scone or a bagel in hand. Coffee's non-negotiable; everything else is just fat, carbohydrates, and protein.

Unless your name is June Cleaver, you've probably got a similar breakfast routine. You wake up at the last. possible. second. (because you didn't sleep enough the night before.) You haphazardly dress, then run out the door while clutching piece of toast. We're under-paid and poorly rested; we have trouble finding our car keys and shoehorning more vegetables into our diets.

The days of leisurely breakfasts, of reading the paper cover-to-cover while drinking orange juice--they're gone, baby. Welcome to the 21st Century. We're so plugged in now, we never unplug.

If I sit too long thinking about the demise of leisurely breakfasts, I begin to percolate other rage-inducing subjects in my brain, like the decline of the newspaper industry, Twitter, and and the dad-blasted debt crisis. If I continue this vein of thought unabated, I end up hysterical and weepy in the Papasan chair, shouting things like...

"The American Dream is dead!"

"I'm almost 30 and I don't have a house or kids! What is my barometer for success?"

"How am I supposed to eat 5 - 8 fruits and vegetables every day? Buy stock in V8?"

Whew. That's a lot to worry about before breakfast. I don't want to deal with that much before work, do you? I haven't found a way to fix the debt crisis, but I did discover a way to sneak more vegetables into breakfast this week. All it took was five minutes and a pair of kitchen scissors. Fortune and notoriety have passed me by, but I can keep a container herb garden healthy.

That makes me feel better. Though I don't have time for leisurely breakfasts, I do have the time and the resources to grow some of my own vegetables. Debt crisis what? I've got a Victory Patio Garden! I did not buy; I created. Think of that when you're rushing out the door in the morning. I did not buy; I created.

If you're (ahem) still planting your Victory Garden, you can still pull off this fresh herb spread for about a dollar in fresh produce. Parsley packs a fresh punch of springtime into the creamy cheese, and a pinch of salt lifts the chives out of produce obscurity. It's a 20th-Century spread for your 21st-Century Bagel. Proper Breakfast Catastrophe = averted. Now, who will help me solve the debt crisis?

Sun-tried tomato and fresh herb spread
serves 6 generously

8 oz. cream cheese, softened
1/3 chopped and finely diced fresh parsley
1/4 cup finely chopped chives
6 - 7 finely diced sun-dried tomato halves
1/2 tsp. garlic salt, celery salt, or onion salt

Prep for this recipe couldn't be easier. Chop the herbs and tomatoes finely, blend them into the cream cheese, and stir in the salt! I'd use a bowl and spoon rather than a food processor for this spread; who wants to clean cream cheese from a food processor?

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Devil with the green dress on
Indigo Jam in the interim
Barbecued peach pizza

Evil Special K Bars

2011-07-15T14:00:00.000-07:00

Home-made Special K bars are like crack, only more delicious. Let me clarify: I've never eaten crack, but I imagine these bars taste better than crack (would taste if you ate it.)

I got this recipe two weeks ago and I've already burned through two 9X13 pans of them. They're so delicious that I couldn't focus long enough to take good pictures of them at our 4th of July Feast. What I'm trying to say is, prepare to welcome another addiction to your life.

Do you have room for another addiction? Next to your devotion to iced coffee or Harry Potter or to toe socks? Scoot them over and make room for Special K bars on your Shelf of Addiction.

My delightful coworker Nate brought these bars into my life. In addition to sharing interests in politics and public radio, Nate and I also share a Midwestern background. It's pretty cool to have a Minnesota boy in the house. He understands the draw of programs like A Prairie Home Companion, the power of casseroles, and when you call him "Mr. Sjol," he replies, "Please. Mr. Sjol is my father's name."

Nate's mom, Janet, created (or simply perfected) Special K bars. I've never met her, but I already know she is a genius. She had the vision to take an over-branded, over-priced cereal that promises to shame you into skinnier jeans....and to add sugar, corn syrup, chocolate, peanut butter, and butterscotch chips.

Oh, baby.

They taste nothing like Kellogg's chemical-laden bars of cardboard masquerading as "health food." Their purpose is to delight, not to shame. Special K's dry, crispy texture creates the ideal foundation for these bars, a texture that reminds me of Rice Krispie Treats. They're magically addictive.

Nate says, "My mom got to the point where she refused to make them because my dad and I would go through a whole pan in a day or two. Even now, I have to keep Special K out of my house as much as possible....Because Special K is good for you, it makes it easier to rationalize. It's seriously like crack. I'm almost getting the shakes just thinking about making a pan."

I there's a picnic or a barbecue or a hike in your future, I suggest you bring a pan of home-made Special K bars. They take 10 minutes to make, and sharing them will dramatically improve your social life. I smuggled a dozen bars into the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows pt. 2 yesterday...and immediately gained new friends.

At Marigold Terrace, celebrating fire, Special K bars and freedom

Sjol Family Special K Bars*
makes 1 giant 9 X13 pan of addictive treats

8 cups Special K
1/2 cup peanut butter
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup corn syrup
8 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips (about a cup)
8 oz. butterscotch chips (about a cup)

Pour the Special K in a giant bowl, and drop the peanut butter on top of the cereal.

Bring the sugar and corn syrup to a boil in a saucepan, then immediately pour the boiling sugar mixture over the cereal/peanut butter. Stir well with a wooden spoon, then smooth the cereal into a baking pan. Let the cereal cool.

Wash the saucepan, then melt the chocolate and butterscotch chips in it on low heat. Smooth the topping over the top of the cereal in an even layer. Place the pan in the fridge for a few minutes to let the topping set. (Nate adds here, "Try to restrain yourself from eating the whole pan in one sitting, because man, they're delicious.")

Use a sharp knife or a pizza cutter to slice the treats into squares. They'll keep for a week covered in the pan, or you can wrap individual bars in plastic wrap for treats on the go.

**I found a variety of recipes for home-made Special K bars online, but I particularly like the Sjol family spin--with butterscotch and chocolate--on the treats.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Rocky road brownies
Thinish Mint cookies
Cherry chili chocolate chip cookies

Devil with the green dress on

2011-07-02T23:45:00.000-07:00

Hello! Happy 4th of July weekend (and late Canada Day, to all my Canadian homies.) I've got a quick recipe for you today/tonight, since you're all busy and you may be--at this very moment--too occupied with surviving these 100+ degree days of summer to bake. So! Here's a little number that takes only 10 minutes and a buzz in the blender.

Have we talked about chimichurri sauce? No? Let me correct that error now. I discovered this herbed sauce three weeks ago while flipping through my trusty Betty Crocker; since then, I've made two double batches of the stuff. I haven't fallen this hard in love with an accompaniment since I discovered Sriracha, and you know my love for Sriracha is forever.

However, this jar is full of love. Green, parsley-filled love. That's how chimichurri looks like straight from the refrigerator; the olive oil has solidified, turning the usually silky dressing into a spreadable garnish. Besides parsley, that jar is filled with sharp garlic, perky vinegar, salt, and a dash of dried red pepper.

Whether you spread chilled chimichurri with a knife or dip french fries in it when it's a liquid is up to you. I'm calculating all the ways I can incorporate this Argentinian dip into my 4th of July festivities. I see it smoothed over a burger, melting on corn on the cob, or as an alluring dip for crudites. It's the devil with the green dress on. (Lord, have mercy!) Please make some - soon! Before you know it, you'll be smothering everything with chimichurri.

Chimichurri sauce
adapted from The Betty Crocker Cookbook, 10th Edition

makes 1 cup sauce, but the recipe doubles easily (so you should make twice as much)

1 bunch parsley (about 1 cup packed), chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
3/4 cup Spanish olive oil
1/4 white vinegar
1/2 tsp. sea salt

Place all ingredients in a blender or food processor. Cover and blend until well pureed. You may need to tweak the recipe based on the amount of parsley you use. If the sauce is thick, add a little more olive oil and vinegar. If it's too thin, add more parsley. Taste as you go until you've got a fresh, herbal sauce with a small vinegar kick. Cover the sauce and refrigerate for two hours before serving.

If you want to make chimichurri sauce deluxe (because you deserve it), substitute raw pumpkin seed oil for up to 1/3 of the olive oil. Not only will the sauce turn deeper, more devilish green, but the earthy notes of raw pumpkin play well with the fresh flavor of parsley.

Chimichurri keeps well in the fridge for weeks! Keep a jar on hand as often as you'd keep around a bottle of hot sauce or a jar of mustard.

If you liked this recipe, you might also enjoy:
Cranberry walnut fudge
Radish top basil pesto
Three-minute strawberry salad with spearmint

Foodie Adventure 2: Coffee Roasting 101

2011-06-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

At around 10 yesterday morning, I was lazing around my apartment, sipping coffee on the back porch. I remember staring idly at the my strawberry plants, which have produced bouquets of flowers but no berries. The ceramic mug in my hand contained a strong, citrus-y brew with a splash of half & half.

Only one thought floated into my head during this 20-minute space-out:
"I need to roast more coffee."

I sure do. Now that I've successfully roasted one batch of beans without burning down the apartment, I'm ready for round two.

This foodie adventure started with a coupon for a roasting class at AJ Java in north Portland and a rumor that coffee can be roasted in a cast-iron skillet. I hope you know me well enough by now to guess if something can be cooked in cast iron, I'll give it a go.

AJ Java is a cheery, brightly colored and cafe in north Portland. When I arrived for class, the whole building (and the parking lot) smelled like toasted wheat berries. Owner Eleza Faison had just begun roasting a batch of beans in a giant Dietrich drum roaster. Within a few minutes, the aroma of freshly roasted coffee saturated the place. I felt coffee in my pores.

Eleza got our small class pumped about roasting beans at home; it's the freshest way to enjoy coffee, and to discover the infinite number of flavors you can coax from different varieties of beans, roasted in slightly different ways.

This is an excellent time to mention that I'm not a roasting expert. I have no credentials, but I took one class and watched a few cupping demonstrations at the Stumptown Annex. I've learned enough to know that home roasting is fun...and also a fire hazard if you're not careful. So, have fun and be careful.

All of the photos I took in Eleza's class were terrible. Every last one. Let's pretend I was too mesmerized by Eleza's philosophy on farm-direct coffee purchasing** to fully document the experience. So, I'm sharing photos from the roasting party Raymond and I had two Saturdays ago in our kitchen. Armed with an instructional pamphlet from Eleza, a skillet, and a great oven vent, we were ready to duplicate The Spice Merchant's Columbia Supremo roast on the first try!

The raw materials from which we created greatness

Turns out, we are not roasting savants. For our first batch, Raymond and I brought a skillet up to "high" heat, using a candy thermometer to measure up to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Leaving the end of a regular candy thermometer directly on a 450-degree heated surface is a great way to break a candy thermometer.

After saying adieu to the thermometer and lowering the burner heat to "medium-high," Raymond and I carefully poured a half-cup of green beans in the skillet. We lowered the heat further when over a dozen beans singed almost immediately. Raymond stirred constantly while I kept the kitchen ventilated and took pictures with my arthritic, first-generation Canon CoolPix.

One bad, charred bean can ruin a whole batch.

I picked out the burned beans while Raymond stirred, stirred, stirred. Eleza told our class to stir at least once every 30 seconds, but said the more often you stir, the more evenly the beans roast. By this point, Raymond and I had dismantled the smoke detector and turned the oven fan on high.

Foodie field note: roasting coffee is done by ear, by eye, by smell, and by timer. Prepare to examine the coffee closely, to watch the beans burst into a larger shape, and to write many, many notes.

Our very uneven, under-roasted first batch

You'll notice that the beans in this batch are either an under-roasted gold or a charred brown-black. The gold beans never reached a hot enough temperature to reach a "first pop," the temp (around 420 degrees Fahrenheit) at which the internal cell walls of the coffee bean are cracked by its oils and applied heat.

Raymond and I didn't want to waste those precious beans. We tried to sort out the golden beans and give them another quick roast. Starting and stopping the process was a mistake; half of the beans ended up roasting too much, while others never heated back up to the correct temperature.

Foodie field note: roast a batch all in one go, without stopping. This could take as little as 5 minutes for a light roast and as long as 12 or 13 minutes for a dark or "French" roast.

Winner of the 2011 Husband-of-the-Year Award

We knew we were on a mission for failure when we poured the beans into my old hand-mill. I've ground at least a dozen pounds of beans in that grinder, using only its iron crank and elbow grease to crush the beans into ground coffee. Usually, I can feel the beans being pulverized with minimal elbow grease on my part.

Properly roasted beans crush in the grinder with the same sound and feeling that crushing walnut halves in your hand would create. With our over/under cooked first and second batches of beans, it sounded grinding seashells or gravel. I summoned Herculean strength to grind what felt like sun-roasted cherry pits into coffee.

R-L: Two samples each of batches one and two

We pressed on and set up glasses for a cupping. (Here's a nice summary from Coffee Geek on why roasters do formal tastings, or cuppings, of each batch and how to set up your own.)

I prepped two samples from each batch, using 12 grams (about 2 heaping spoonfuls) of ground coffee per 6 oz water. While I heated a tea kettle-full of water to boiling, Raymond and I sniffed the fresh coffee and noted the scents and aromas.

After we did our preliminary sniff, I took the water off a boil for just a second, then stirred 3/4 cup water into each glass. What usually happens at this point --and what happens every time I see a cupping at Stumptown -- is the coffee grounds rise to the top of each glass in a heat-sealing cap. The coffee should brew for four minutes under this cap before you crack the crust of grounds, take another sniff, and write more notes about the aroma.

Here are some of our notes from this cupping:

Chez Clause Light

1. Sniff: light, woody, earthy
2. Sniff after brew: "Same as before, only stronger." (Raymond's notes are in quotation marks.)
3. Sniff after breaking crust: citrusy, light.
4. Taste: "like poo."

As coffee roasts, it loses up to 20 percent of its weight in moisture. When the grounds from this cupping sank like stones in the bottom of the glasses, I knew we'd just browned the outside of some raw coffee beans instead of cooking them from the inside-out.

We were ready to roast again, slowly and evenly this time.

Keep stirring! Keep stirring!

With batches three and four, we tweaked the heat to a strong "medium" on our Hotpoint burner. At this temperature, the coffee beans started to turn yellow and smell grassy after 3 minutes. Perfect!

In 5 - 7 minutes, the beans swell and reach the first pop. They literally jump in the pan! You can watch them expand in size. This stage sounds like a crackling campfire. Keep stirring!

From this point, the roast and flavor of the coffee will change rapidly, every minute. You could stop after the first pop and enjoy a light roast. You could roast (and stir) for a few minutes more to achieve a darker roast. In fact, the way the cast iron pan keeps the smokiness of roasting near the beans complements a darker roast. A French or dark roast takes 12 to 15 minutes.

When your coffee has reached roasted perfection, remove it from heat and transfer it to a metal bowl or colander. Stir, stir, stir to stop the cooking process as quickly as possible. You may even use a tabletop fan to cool the beans as you stir.

That's much more even!

Foodie field note: Coffee Geek recommends letting the beans rest for two days before using them. Once they've properly degassed, you can store them in an air-tight glass container (like a cleaned pickle jar!) in a cool, dark place.

Raymond and I couldn't wait to get the taste of mud-flavored coffee out of our mouths, so we jumped the gun and did another cupping.

Layers are good

See the grounds floating at the top of the glasses, as God intended?

After four minutes of brewing, Raymond and I gently pushed the top layer of grounds down with the back of a spoon, like we were cracking the shell of crème brûlée. When you try this, smell the steam that escapes from the coffee as you push the grinds down. You'll smell a burst of complex aromas as the steam rises from the glass. Write your impressions of these aromas down.

So delicious! I could just drink it with a spoon.

Oil- and flavor-rich crema rose to the top after we pushed the grounds down. This is the same crema that tops a perfectly pulled shot of espresso, the stuff that gives espresso its rich flavor.

Now, it's time to slurp a spoonful of coffee. This is how professional roasters do it, I swear. The louder, the better. (Slurping allows the coffee to coat your entire tongue, giving you a real taste of the brew.) Again, write down what you taste.

Here are our notes from this cupping:

Chez Clause Dark

1. Sniff: woody, sharp, moist
2. Sniff after brew: woody, earthy, citrusy
3. Sniff after breaking crust: citrusy, light.
4. Taste: light-bodied, with wood and oranges

The real stuff: ground and brewed just minutes later

Foodie field note: taking notes not only allows you to notice the flavors in each type of coffee and each roasted batch, but it allows you to duplicate the results you enjoy later. Whether you're Starbucks, using a complicated "flavor profile" to create the same House Blend batch after batch, or a home roaster trying to remember how to bring out the lemony flavors Tanzanian Peaberry beans, notes are your friend. They're your operating manual.

Whew! I burned through so many cups of coffee while writing this foodie adventure that it's time to roast more coffee. If you're curious about home roasting--whether you use a skillet like me or even a popcorn popper--please look at some of the resourced I've compiled below. Most of the Portland businesses I found who sell green beans also offer online ordering for people who don't live in town. Happy roasting!

Green Beans and Roasting Classes Portland

AJ Java Roasting - roasting classes, plus a great rotating cast of green beans online. ***Eleza specializes in buying beans directly from growers; she doesn't trust third-party "fair trade" groups to pay fair prices, so she gets to know the farmers directly.
Sweet Maria's - offers beans and home roasting supplies online, plus fantastic home roasting reading material
Lovejoy Coffee Co. - offers online ordering, plus you can set up an appointment to learn home roasting in their store.
Mr. Green Beans - sells beans and supplies in Portland and online, plus DIY home craft (canning, roasting, soap- and cheese-making) classes at their Mississippi District storefront.
Barbur World Foods - in SW Portland, offers several varieties of green beans in bulk. When I stopped by on Sunday evening, they were carrying beans from Africa and Columbia.

Cupping / Roasting Tutorials

Roasting in an air popper
Whirley-pop roasting
CoffeeGeek.com's guide to cupping: a no-fuss, educational guide

Heavenly farro, with lemon and tomato

2011-05-11T22:30:00.000-07:00

Heavenly farro, with lemon and tomato. My my, you are lovely. You make me skip joyfully around the apartment while singing The Four Tops Greatest Hits on vinyl. I'm careening across the living room, plate in hand, shouting Bernadette! with a mouthful of farro.

You make me proud to eat leftovers again, even proud to bring leftovers to work for lunch. And...despite your bliss-inducing flavor, you are secretly good for me. I like things that are good for me, but especially if they're secretly good--like a whiff of fresh cigar smoke, a reluctant smile or a messy pile of books.

If you don't yet understand my elation over farro, that's ok. There's still time to learn. I will show you how to find Triticum dicoccum bliss.

For a few days, I felt ambivalent about bringing you such simple dish of baked risotto. Why should I wax poetic about a grain? There's nothing novel about farro. It's been around for over 20,000 years. In the micro-time lines of "now-ness" on which most food blogs operate, farro's history is as compelling as a yawn.

Then, I cooked with it. Oh my. Farro risotti, sometimes called farrotto, tastes elegant without being a fuss to prepare. The grains swell up to capture the flavors in the broth your provide. When you eat cooked farro, it's so delightfully chewy that you'd swear you were eating pasta. Perfect, al dente pasta. To me, farro is so old it's new, if you catch my meaning. Let's take a break from the parade of desserts on this blog and eat something with substance as well as style.

If you just look at this recipe without tasting it, you may think I don't want to impress you any more. That I've finished giving you sexy recipes and--food-wise--I've changed into my gray sweat pants from high school track. (Yes, I still wear them.) That I've become a joyless nutritionist like Jillian Michaels.

You'd think that until I tell you this farrotto is full of freshly grated Parmesan cheese and the best marinara you can find. And delightful, perky, fresh lemon. Loads of lemon. Lemon seals the deal, lifting the flavors from Monday Night Italian for Beginners to Tart Tomato Temptress! It's hard to explain, chemically, what happens when the citric acid from the tomatoes meets the citrus-y lemon and then tumbles into fruity olive oil and wheat-like berries. But the results are delicious, and that's all the science I need to know.

So, if you find yourself staring down the barrel of another soul-less weekday dinner, give farro a try. You'll notice the chewy farro's nutty flavor first, but the fresh lemon and tomato will steal the show from there, with creamy Parmesan not far behind.

Semi-pearled farro is easy(ish) to find in Portland, but if you can't find it nearby, substitute semi-pearled barley or even wheat berries for the farro. You'll want a chewy grain that holds its shape even after 45 minutes of absorbing liquids and baking. Adjust the amount of liquid or baking time so that the finished risotto is full of rich sauce but not swimming in a broth.

Heavenly Farro, with lemon and tomato
lightly adapted from 101 Cookbooks

serves 8ish

rind and juice of one lemon
2 Tb. olive oil
1 medium onion (sweet and juicy), chopped
1/2 tsp. sea salt
2 cups semi-pearled farro
1 1/3 cup of the best tomato sauce you find (with no added sugar!)
3 cups good vegetable broth
1 - 2 Tb. fresh rosemary
1 1/2 cups freshly grated Parmesan
2 Tb. fresh oregano, chopped

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Rub some olive oil along the inside of a large baking dish and set aside.

Combine olive oil, onion, and salt in a medium saucepan. Cook the onions over medium heat for a few minutes, until the onions are tender and translucent. Add the farro and stir until coated.

Let the farro cook for several minutes, then stir in the tomato sauce and vegetable stock. Snip in the rosemary and add the lemon juice and rind. Bring the mixture to a simmer, then remove from heat.

Stir in the Parmesan. You may reserve some for the top of the farrotto...or you can stir it all in now. Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish and cover tightly with foil. Poke a few holes in the top of the foil and bake for 45 minutes, or until the grains are fully cooked. Garnish with chopped oregano and serve with a green salad (perhaps spinach or arugula. Swoon.)

If you liked this post, you may also enjoy:

Rigatoni with red pepper sauce
Beans and 'maters
Spaghetti with roasted tomato cream sauce

Partying with macaroons

2011-04-24T12:00:00.000-07:00

It's Easter! It's the day Christians celebrate Christ's return from death to hide candy-filled eggs in back yards everywhere, marking the arrival of spring and the Great Chocolate Easter Bunny. Or something like that.

Whether you're partying for Jesus or for the arrival of daffodils, I think today calls for cute, springtime snacks. God's given me a few taps on the shoulder lately to remind me that our time on this planet is brief. He's reminded me to celebrate my friends and family often, with sprinkles if possible.

I baked macaroons for you because April is a party month; it's got Easter, Passover, and spring on its résumé. Plus, many fantastic Aries and Pisces friends I know charged into the world this month. I brought a plate of party macaroons to Deva Kelly for her 40th birthday, and if my husband liked coconut at all, I would have baked more for his birthday. (He got lemon cupcakes, instead.)

Today, I'll bake some for Easter dinner with the Marigold Terrace peeps, and then bring another plate of these beauties to Marvelous Mr. Norcross' party. I hope you'll bake a batch soon for a party near you. They're delicious--the main requirement of a dessert, delightful to behold, and dangerously quick to assemble.

"Cute" party foods like candy-coated Peeps, cake pops, and mini-cupcakes lose their allure when I think about the labor required to create them compared with the rapidity with which recipients gobble them up. Why spend three hours making miniature cupcakes when I can spend a quick 30 macaroons? By switching recipes, I avoid the waning petite cupcake "trend" and have an extra 2 1/2 hours to enjoy life. I hope you feel the same way, especially since coconut has crept alongside chocolate and marshmallow in many American Easter celebrations.

Neighbor Kristen and I both lost friends and colleagues this month, and the losses came suddenly. Since April is about the life, death, and rebirth, I'll also set a few party macaroons aside for our friends who went on to the Next Great Adventure this month. The party's not as fun without you.

Party macaroons
makes about 2 dozen

8 oz. shredded, unsweetened coconut
egg whites from 2 large eggs
1/3 - 1/2 cup honey or agave nectar
1-2 Tb. cane sugar for sprinkling
1/4 tsp. sea salt

Ganache

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
6 oz. chopped bittersweet chocolate
confetti sprinkles, candy dots, or mini m&ms

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the egg whites, honey, and sea salt until the mixture is good n' frothy. Stir in the coconut and mix with a fork until everything is moistened. Let the mixture rest so that the coconut can absorb as much of the gooey liquid as possible. After 5 minutes, the coconut should remain moist; when you squish it with a fork, little--if any--liquid should rise through the tines.

Spray a tablespoon with non-stick cooking spray and use the spoon to form semi-spheres of macaroon. Pack the tablespoon tight before turning each macaroon out on the baking sheet.
Repeat with the rest of the batch. You should have about 2 dozen macaroons. Sprinkle 1 - 2 Tb. cane sugar over the macaroons to give them a crunchy sugar glaze.

Bake until macaroons are a light golden brown, about 15 - 25 minutes. Let the macaroons cool on the baking sheet for a few minutes before transferring to a cooling rack.

While the macaroons are baking, prepare the ganache. Bring the cream to a boil in a small saucepan, then remove the pan from heat. Quickly stir in the semi-sweet chocolate until the ganache is smooth, with no lumps. Let the ganache sit at room temperature as the macaroons cool. Once the macaroons cool completely, use a table knife to carefully frost the top of each macaroon. Place each macaroon back on the baking sheet after it's coated with ganache.

Give the macaroons a good dusting of confetti sprinkles, then pop the baking sheet in your freezer for 10-15 minutes, until the chocolate sets. The macaroons will keep for several days at room temperature (covered in plastic) or for a week in the fridge. They also freeze beautifully if you wrap each macaroon tightly in plastic wrap, then drop the macaroons in a freezer-safe bag.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Coconut macaroons
Thinish Mint Cookies
Hazelnut Cookies for Karen

Foodie Adventure #1: Beast

2011-04-06T17:30:00.000-07:00

Hello, dear In a Pickle readers. With your permission, I'd like to try something new.

Usually, I keep a pretty rigid format: story, photo, story, photo, recipe. While this format works well for most of the food stories I share with you, sometimes it's limiting.

So, I'm adding a new kind of post to the site: the foodie adventure! When I take a baking class or learn how to roast coffee, I'll share what I learned with you here. Think of it this way: I'm a foodie layperson who is willing to go out into the world and report back on her adventures. You'll see new culinary landscapes through my field notes. It's like we're on safari, without those darling pith helmets. (Or with them. I'll wear one if you do.)

From now on, I'll tag all of these posts #foodieadventures for your convenience. Expect great stories, compelling photos, and new tricks for cooking that don't necessarily translate into a "recipe."

On to the first adventure!

Lamb loin with thyme, pickled cherries, and spring radishes

Last week, I was lucky enough to attend a Taste event to benefit Morrison Child and Family Services. Taste raises awareness and funding for children's mental health services while giving foodies a behind-the-curtains view of local wineries and restaurants. I attended a "DIY Butchery" class with about 10 other foodies at Beast in northeast Portland.

The team at Beast gave us a short overview of butchery, then gave us cooking tips as they prepared our dinner. Staff from Adelsheim Vineyard in Newberg paired wines with each dinner course and shared beautiful stories about each wine's origin and personality.

Morrison's Development Director Leslie Brock gives our "class" a warm welcome

Beast is a six-course prix-fixe restaurant that celebrates all things meaty. Chef Naomi Pomeroy and her two-person staff offer two nightly seatings during the week, plus a Sunday brunch. Her menu changes weekly, depending on the seasonal ingredients she has on hand.

Walk softly and carry a big grater.

Both Naomi and Beast have received heaps of accolades lately--both locally and nationally. The Oregonian named Beast and Le Pigeon co-Restaurant of the Year. Pomeroy's also one of 12 chefs on this season's Bravo's Top Chef Masters competing for charity.

Naomi's a a self-taught chef who learned to cook through practice and through her fascination with cookbooks. She was also a vegetarian for seven years...before bouncing back to the dark side.

She proved her renewed love for all things meat immediately, preparing an a duck liver pâté appetizer with Armagnac, tomato paste, nutmeg, and scallions. She broiled raisin walnut bread from Ken's Artisan Bakery for an accompanying crostini. Swoon. It was a delicious collision of sweet bread and savory pâté.

As Naomi gave us a lay of the land at Beast, her butcher, Emily McHenry, began to prep our dinner, a lamb from Mohawk Valley Meats in Springfield, Oregon. Emily is a cheerful Okie (Oklahoma native) who trained to become a butcher at Fleisher's in New York.

Naomi gives Emily an extra pair of hands

Below, you'll see Emily portioning out strips of lamb for dinner; the other portions she cut and stored for dinners at Beast that week. As she worked, Emily told us how to use each part of the animal: the neck for soups and stews, the bones for stock, the belly for curing with herbs. Emily knows endless uses for every part of the animal. I like that she applies the idiom "waste not, want not" to her practice as a butcher.

"Think of the animal as a suspension bridge," Emily told us while stretching out the lamb. "The front and hind legs do most of the work and the muscle is more developed. The central part of the lamb does less work and the muscles are more tender."

Emily was the only girl in her classes at Fleisher's. "It was a pretty macho atmosphere," she said, "but the knives helped even things out." And how. Check out her hip holster of knives.

Foodie field note: acquire a hip holster of knives.

Emily can carve anything with these.

As Emily worked on the lamb, Adrian prepped fruits, vegetables, and scallops for the evening's other courses. Adrian came to Beast after working for a successful restaurant in the Napa Valley.

Adrian was shy of the spotlight, preferring to cook in the background. (He wouldn't even reveal his last name, no matter how politely we asked.) However, Naomi happily bragged on his skills and expertise in botany. He's interested in horticulture and raises animal "for fun" in his spare time.

He's also a wizard when it comes to searing scallops. Naomi says there are a few tricks to getting the perfect sear on a scallop. First, make sure the pan you use is freaking hot! Keep the scallops dry and seasons them with salt and pepper. Use lots of butter to help the scallops caramelize the protein on each side.

Foodie field note: use more butter. Meat sears well when you use lots of butter an don't crowd the pan.

Seared sea scallops, shaved fennel & citrus with cracked green peppercorn aioli

See those elegant slices of fruit draped over the shaved fennel? Adrian carefully sliced away the outer skins of blood orange and grapefruit slices to create that effect. We watched him patiently slice, slice, slice while Naomi and Emily talked. He dressed the fennel with citrus juices and some chopped herbs.

Until this course, I'd never tried a salad with fennel as a base. Why did I wait? Fennel has a light and crispy texture similar to an onion, but a watery, fresh taste like celery or cilantro. David Adelsheim paired this course with their fruity 2009 Auxerrois.

Foodie field notes: Experiment with fennel, especially dressed with orange or grapefruit juices. Also, aioli improves almost any food experience.

Next up, French onion soup with duck and beef stock and a Gruyère crouton.

The onions in this rich broth had been caramelized within an inch of their lives. The soup stock was so dark and mysterious that I felt it also contained the answer to all of life's secrets. After some research in this vein, I discovered the answer to all of life's secrets is a Gruyère crouton.

Naomi likes to mix different stocks to add depth to soups. This French onion soup reached depths that the lost city of Atlantis could only hope to achieve. I never thought French onion soup could be misanthropic, but it can be. None of my dining companions wanted this soup to end.

Foodie field note: It's easy to make your own soup stock, Naomi says. "Roast your bones 'till they're golden," add a mirepoix and thyme, and roast at 300 degrees Fahrenheit (covered in foil) for 12 hours. And if you have some extra "meaty bits" from cutting up your duck or lamb? Toss those into the stock, too.

Freshly cut lamb tenderloin with radishes

Finally, after an afternoon of lessons and butchery demonstration, we enjoyed the fruits of Naomi, Emily, and Adrian's labor: lamb tenderloin with radishes and pickled cherries.

Foodie field notes: The lamb is so tender! Naomi placed a strip of butter-and-herb-soaked baguette down the center of each tenderloin roll. The bread kept the tenderloin moist while infusing it with herbs. Also, I must try pickling my own cherries and braising radishes with the tops attached.

Miscellaneous field notes:

Not pictured: the cheese course. Naomi tucked nubs of Italian goats milk cheese into squares puff pastry, then baked them 'till golden and bubbly. They were paired with fresh microgreens that had been tossed in lemon juice. Fresh, lemony microgreens cut the oiliness of the cheese pastry.

On storing fresh garlic, Adrian says to submerge freshly peeled or chopped garlic in olive oil to stop the cloves from oxidizing. Cut garlic tastes less fresh and more sharp the longer it is exposed to air.

Our dessert of chilled vanilla crème with poached Angelico plums is also not pictured, wholly due to my lack of camera skills. Naomi says the vanilla creme takes "no brains" to prepare. Just "heat some cream to a boil, add sugar and vanilla, whip in some gelatin and let it set." Though simple, the creme tasted heavenly, especially with a side of poached plums. I'll experiment with this dessert and bring you the results in post form.

I'm so thankful for the opportunity to attend this demonstration and dinner, and even happier that it benefits a worthy cause. Naomi knows the people who raise her animals and the farmers who grow her produce. She and her team are talented and passionate about food, and it shows in their work.

If my foodie adventure sparked your imagination, guess what? Morrison Child & Family Services is holding its next Taste event Thursday at Thirst Wine Bar & Bistro. Find more information on Morrison and the rest of its Taste series here.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Sour cherry apple pie with root beer
Espresso con panna
Thinish Mint Cookies

With a candy thermometer

2011-03-28T22:05:00.000-07:00

My candy thermometer and I have made a breakthrough! We've climbed to dizzying new heights of deliciousness in the field of candied mixed nuts. I'm doing a happy dance of elation in the living room right now. Really. This moment.

What did it take to change my recipe for salty-sticky Cracker Jack Peanuts into a crunchy-sweet cocktail of snack heaven? A few drops cinnamon leaf oil, more kosher salt, and stirring for another minute or two. Easy peasy.

It's an avalanche of delicious!

Don't get me wrong; my first attempt to make these nuts went well. The original recipe, which I found via Jeannette at everybodylikessandwiches, promised to envelop the peanuts in a sticky/sandy coating of candy goodness. However, I was so 'skeered of scorching the peanuts that I removed them from the stove much too early. My coating wound up soft, almost chewy, like brown sugar candy. If only I'd known what deliciousness was possible with more patience.

When you've been stirring for 8 to 10 minutes and a dark brown syrup begins to pool at the bottom of the saucepan, stay the course! Don't stop stirring until the candy coating looks sandy and dry. Remove the nuts from the heat, toss in kosher salt and another dash of cinnamon, and you've got some snacks that can't be beat.

By adding both cinnamon oil and ground cinnamon, the spiced flavor is locked into every bite. These taste just like those cones of roasted, candied almonds you'd buy from a street vendor in New York or at a county fair. I should have packed another jar for my flight to Cleveland last week...

New and Improved! Candied Mixed Nuts
makes 3 cups

1 cup roasted peanuts
1 cup roasted/salted cashew halves
1 cup raw almonds
1 1/2 cups unrefined cane sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract
5 Tb. water
4 - 5 drops cinnamon leaf oil
2 - 3 drops red food dye
2 Tb. ground cinnamon
2 tsp. kosher salt

In a large saucepan, stir together peanuts, almonds, cashews, sugar, cinnamon and vanilla extract, dye and water. Heat everything over medium-high heat until everything looks sandy, about 8 to 10 minutes. The temperature of the peanut goop should reach near 220 degrees, if you've got a candy thermometer handy. Take heart and keep stirring.

Soon, you will have a dark golden pool of liquid forming below the peanuts. This is good! Once the peanuts have reached a nice golden-red color, remove them from heat and turn the peanuts out onto parchment paper-lined cookie sheets. Sprinkle the cinnamon and salt onto the peanuts, stirring everything around a little until the peanuts are in a single layer. Let the nuts cool, then store in an air-tight container for up to two weeks. Like they'll last that long.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Sweet & Spicy Curried Nut Mix
Cracker Jack Peanuts
Tree's Granola

Oh, fudge

2011-03-13T21:00:00.000-07:00

The kitchen and I spent some quality time together today.

I rolled out of bed this morning just itching to stretch my legs with a walk, perhaps to new Gaia Java** down the street. I looked out the bedroom window. Instead of finding sunshine, gray clouds belched rain everywhere. So I cozied up in the kitchen.

We shared the afternoon with my Pete Seeger records and two dozing kitties, and I think the time was well spent. I managed to cook a casserole, some candied nuts, and cranberry-walnut fudge before the storm knocked out our electricity for a few hours. Springtime in Portland!

Until recently, I thought all fudge tasted like those giant, sugary chunks of candy sold in small-town florist shops. Did your hometown flower/ gift shop have a case of truffles and fudge by the front counter? Somewhere near the displays of greeting cards and Yankee Candles? I remember those cases often touted exotic fudge varieties like walnut, peanut butter, maple or mint-chocolate swirl.

A kind lady behind the counter would offer me a sample. Why yes! I will try a piece of the German Chocolate! I'd pop the sample in my mouth, expecting a dense flavor blast of chocolate and coconut. Instead, the sugary brick dissolved on my tongue like chocolate-flavored sand. Yuck.

My friend Brianna recently gave me a stack of old Light & Tasty magazines to browse. I've been marking them full of stick notes all weekend. Taste of Home, a magazine I remember to which my mother subscribed, also published Light & Tasty. Reader-submitted recipes fill each magazine. Plus, the cooks offer delightful, endearing comments on each dish. A favorite: "We often take them (cranberry turkey wraps) to the local stock show and eat them in the stands!"

That's where I found this cranberry-walnut fudge. If you like chewy fudge, the kind that the word "fudgey" is meant to describe, this is your recipe. Delia of Deer Park, Washington, submitted it to Light & Tasty. She says that though the fudge seems decadent, each bite is filled with tons of "fabulous, guilt-free flavor."

Cranberry-walnut fudge
from the 2007 December/January edition of Light & Tasty
makes 1 1/3 pounds

2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup light corn syrup or agave nectar
1/4 cup low-fat evaporated milk
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/3 cup chopped walnuts
2/3 cup dried cranberries

Line a 9" square pan with foil. Coat the foil with non-stick cooking spray and set aside.

Combine chocolate chips and the syrup in a heavy saucepan. Melt the chocolate over low heat, stirring often until the chocolate is melted and smooth. Remove the saucepan from heat and stir in the milk, vanilla, and powdered sugar. Beat with a wooden spoon until thickened and glossy, about five minutes.

Stir in the cranberries and walnuts. Spread the fudge into the prepared pan, decorating the top with a few more cranberries, if desired. Refrigerate until firm, about an hour.

Use the foil to lift the fudge from the pan. For easy, tear-free cutting, fill a tall glass with hot water and set a sharp knife in the glass. Cut the fudge into 1" squared with the knife. Rinse the knife in the hot water between each cut. Store the fudge in an air-tight container in the fridge.

If you liked this recipe, you might also enjoy:

Chocolate champagne truffles
Midnight brownies
Thinish Mint Cookies

**In SW Portland gossip, the shadowy café has closed! Gaia Java has taken its place. It's a much more welcoming shop.

Can it: indigo jam in the interim

2011-03-01T22:00:00.000-08:00

Hello from a brand-new apartment! In pursuit of great rent, my husband and I packed our tiny home and moved...one block away from our old digs. We're now happy residents of The Barbur Fiefdom. Or The Infinite Wilderness of Barbur Woods. We haven't settled on our place's new nickname just yet.

Did you know that it is as annoying to move one block as it is to move across town? I know that now. Thank goodness Raymond and I own a truck and are blessed with kind neighbors who helped with the heavy furniture. (Seriously, Brian. You are a hero for helping move our 90s projection-screen TV. We owe you popcorn chicken.)

Now that I've discovered the clever place where I hid the camera for "safe-keeping," I'll begin taking photos of our new home. You'll love the kitchen. There's a window right next to the stove which I hope will illuminate future blog posts with real, honest-to-goodness sunlight. Sunlight!

Taken on our patio last summer. Remember summer?

In the interim, I'd like to share some indigo jam with you. It's a hybrid of blueberry jam and grape jelly, keeping grape's juicy flavor and blueberry's silken texture while abandoning seeds and that jiggly jam texture I find annoying. While tinkering with the recipe, I threw in some summer blackberries to deepen the flavors and cinnamon to give a faint spiced scent.

So far, I've given away three jars of this jam and received three stellar reviews from the recipients. Erin says the cinnamon reminded her of Christmas. Luci says it tasted "great." I think Indigo Jam tastes like the color indigo might. But Amanda captured its effect the best: "Indigo Jam is the shit."

We're down to one jar in the pantry. Must. Make. More....now.

Indigo Jam
makes about 6 1/2-pint jars

2 1/2 cups champagne grapes (or another small, tart variety), washed and removed from the stem
2 1/2 cups of fresh blueberries, washed
1 cup blackberries, washed
1 1/2 - 2 cups cane sugar
juice of 1 lemon
1 cup water or dry champagne
1 packet fruit pectin gelling powder
2 - 3 Tb. ground cinnamon

Some beginning notes:

If you plan to can the jam after making it, as I did, you'll want to read a guide on how to do it properly. I always find canning/preserving wisdom over at pickyourown.org. Before I even prepped the fruit, I sterilized my canning jars and rings in the dishwasher and set a half-filled stock pot of water to boil on the stove top. You can also sterilize canning jars by boiling in hot water for 10 minutes.

You can also do what I call "fridge canning," or storing the jam in sterilized jars in the fridge. Because the jam has not been boiled and processed in a sealed canning jar, you'll have to keep it in the fridge (or freezer) to preserve it. I think it's easiest to prep for canning while you're cooking the jam; after a quick hot water bath for canning, the jam's finished and preserved.

Prepare the jam:
Wash all of the fruit and strain excess water through a colander. Pick out any stem pieces, wrinkled or mushy fruit. Pour the grapes, blueberries, and blackberries into a large cooking pot. Cook over medium heat until the blueberries and grapes start to burst and break down.

Remove the fruit from heat and (carefully) mash the heck out of it with a potato masher. Strain the thick, pulpy fruit mess through a mesh-wire strainer and into a large bowl. I used the back of a large spoon to get the fruit pulp and skin through but leave the seeds behind. Work in small batches until all of the fruit is strained and the bitter grape seeds are filtered out. (It's OK to leave the blackberry seeds. They give the jam more character.) Return the fruit mash to the cooking pot and stir in lemon juice, cinnamon and water/champagne.

Put a spoon in a small measuring cup filled with cold water. Place the measuring cup in the fridge.

Mix together 1/4 cup sugar with the pectin packet. Stir this into the fruit mash and bring everything to a full, rolling boil on the stove. Stir in the rest of the sugar and bring the jam back to a rolling boil for one full minute.

Remember that spoon? Test the jam's "done-ness" by scooping a 1/2 spoonful of jam into the spoon. Let it cool to room temperature. If the jam is firm enough for your liking, great. If not, add another spoon-full of pectin to the jam and bring it back to a boil. Repeat until your jam is jiggly, not tough or runny.

Fill each jam jar to within a 1/4" of the top. Wipe up any jam spills, place a lid on top and tighten the jar ring. You're ready to a) refrigerate this jam or b) heat process it!

If you're processing them....

Place the jars in that stock pot of hot water at least 1" apart. Make sure they're submerged beneath at least 2" of water. Let them sit in the boiling water bath for 5 - 7 minutes. Carefully remove each jar with a pair of canning tongs and let it sit, without touching or bumping another jar, on a counter at room temperature until the lid seal "pops" flat. This could take as little as an hour or overnight. If, after a night, the lid pops back up, you can call that jar "fridge jam" or reprocess the jam in a clean jar with a new lid seal.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Candied citrus slices
Drunken berry cobbler
Strawberry-rhubarb tart

For the love of bierock!

2011-02-15T21:01:00.000-08:00

Do you remember a few weeks ago when I said I'd post a bierock recipe made with rode kool? And I said I'd do it soon? Hee hee. About that soon thing.

I don't where to push the blame: perhaps on laundry, on having a social life, on being mired in two radio membership drives at once. Since I can't fit my blogging laziness on one particular thing, I'll just sweep it under the rug and we won't speak of it again.

So bierocks! The first time I got my hot little hand on one, I remember thinking, "There's a hamburger inside this roll? Suh-sweet!" My mom got the 4-1-1 on a tiny drive-thru in Wichita that served delectable, Yoder Mennonite-style bierocks, and she sweetly shared her discovery with my sister Kira and me. That place--M&M Bierock if you're in the area--serves Nu Way-style crumbly spiced beef, beef & cheese, ham & cheese, and veggie bierocks in a pillowy-soft dough, to-go only. Swoon.

Since my M&M Bierock indoctrination, I've been worshiping at the alter of St. Sandwich-in-Dough every chance I get. I've found great bierocks at farmer's markets, at church suppers, in bakeries and at bake sales, but I've never tried to make my own. In fact, I've been a little intimidated by the process.

However, I soon found courage and inspiration to try them online. Susan, a Mennonite blogger for Kneping the Zweiback, breaks the process down into small, easy-to-accomplish steps, keeping her good humor the entire time. I cracked open my trusty copy of Melting Pot of Mennonite to find ideas for a traditional filling.

After spending an afternoon up to my elbows in flour rolling out bierocks, I found a few things to mention about this recipe:

- unless you really crimp together the ends of the dough after filling each bierock, you run the risk of some filling oozing out of the roll in the oven. Line your baking sheets with aluminum foil to catch any oozes.

- Set aside a few hours to prepare, bake, and wrap the bierocks. I kept a half-dozen in the fridge and stored the rest, individually wrapped in plastic, in the freezer.

- Bierocks make a classy work lunch. Toss a few wrapped bierocks in a zip-lock bag and keep them in the office freezer.

Bierocks
makes 3 dozen snack-size rolls or 2 dozen dinner-sized rolls
adapted Kneping the Zweiback

Dough

2 tablespoons yeast
2 3/4 cups warm water, divided
1/3 cup powdered milk
3 tablespoons sugar, divided
2 teaspoons salt
2/3 cup butter
2/3 cup mashed potatoes
1 egg
2 -3 cups whole-wheat flour
3 - 4 cups all-purpose flour, or enough to make a firm dough

First, proof the yeast. Mix the yeast and 1 Tb. sugar with around 3/4 cup warm water.

Heat the remaining water, sugar, and butter in a saucepan until the butter is completely melted. Beat the egg and add it to the butter mixture. Whisk in the powdered milk, salt, and mashed potatoes. (The mashes potato gives the finished dough a silky-smooth texture.)

Transfer the butter mixture into a large stand mixer bowl. Mix in three-to-four cups of flour until the batter is smooth. Use the largest bowl you have and, if you're working with a hand mixer, be sure to carefully scrape the sides of the bowl as you go. Keep adding flour until you get a springy-smooth dough. Turn it out onto a floured work surface.

Knead the dough until it's smooth, which could take between 8 and 15 minutes, depending on how wet the dough is when you start, how much flour you add as you knead, and the gluten already present in the dough. Once you've kneaded it smooth, grease a large bowl. Set the dough in the bowl and set it in a warm spot to rise.

While it's rising, make the filling.

Filling

1/2 cup sweet & hot mustard
2 medium onions, slap chopped to death
2 pounds of ground beef
1 tsp. ground pepper
1 tsp. salt, more of each to taste
sauerkraut, sauteed green cabbage, or cinnamon rode kool

Brown the hamburger, rinse. Add the onion, mustard and seasonings. (If using fresh cabbage, saute it with the onion. If you're using sauerkraut or rode kool, skip this step.) Simmer until the onion is tender.

Once the dough is ready, punch it down and divide into two or three sections, depending on how much you want to work with at a time. Roll each section out to a 1/4" thickness and cut out 4" circles for each bierock. (You'll want 5" diameter circles for "dinner-sized" bierocks.)

Place 1/3 cup filling and 1/4 cup sauerkraut/ sauteed cabbage/rode kool in the middle of each bierock. Fold the dough edges up over the center of the filling and pinch together the dough ends. Make sure there are no holes for filling to escape in the oven.

Bake the bierocks on a baking sheet at 350 degrees for 20 minutes, or until golden brown.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Red Cabbage Candy(rode kool)
Turkey pot pie
Kefir pasta with sausage

150 Years of the Sunflower State

2011-01-29T15:16:00.001-08:00

Happy Kansas Day, dear readers!

The Sunflower State entered the union as a free state on this day in 1861. That's 150 years of awesome and counting. The state is named after the Kansa Native American tribe. Rumor has it that the tribe name Kansa means "people of the wind" or "people of the south wind." I believe it. Many of the Kansans I know have that airy, powerful, independent spirit of the wind in them. The wind is a powerful element.

Kansas is the home of Buster Keaton (yay), Bob Dole (boo), Amelia Earhart (yay), and Superman (double yay.) Crazy resident Fred Phelps is not a native. He's a wacko from Meridian, Miss., who won't leave poor Kansas alone.

However, author Laura Ingalls Wilder only lived in Kansas for a year--in her childhood--but her time there inspired her write the entire Little House on the Prairie book series. I've visited the house near Independence, Kansas, where her family lived. Let's say that it looks "pretty good" for a cabin built in the late-1800s.

To celebrate 150 years of Kansas statehood (always a free state! Never a slave state!) I borrowed some beautiful sunflower photos from my friend, Amanda. She found these beauties along the highway near Arkansas City. Both she and I have family there; Ark City itself is a wonky-weird place, but the country surrounding it is gorgeous. Dad would take my sisters and I for weekend drives near Ark City. We'd just drive for hours, drinking sodas and singing to the radio and enjoying the prairie roll by. That's entertainment.

I don't remember a time, growing up down the road in Wellington, when we were not surrounded by fields of sunflowers. They broke up the fields of wheat and alfalfa along Highway 160 and 81. They followed the sun through the sky, like fragrant sun dials. You can always find a field of sunflowers in Kansas. Amanda and I both live in the Pacific Northwest now. I'm glad she captured these shots on one of her recent trips home. Aaah. I like the mountains, but sometimes you just need the prairie, you know?

I found another way to celebrate Kansas today: with sunflower seed scones. They're crunchy and lightly sweet, thanks to some whole wheat flour and raw sunflower seeds. You'll get bonus state-pride points if you use a flour that's made from Kansas wheat, like Hudson Cream, Norm's Flour, or Heartland Mill. A boiled citrus glaze seals in some moisture and adds the fragrance of summery fruit. Breakfast never tasted so progressive.

Here's to another 150 years of oddball, independent, kind, and sunny years of statehood, Kansas. I'm proud to be a sunflower from the Sunflower State.

Sunflower Scones with Boiled Citrus Glaze
adapted from Flax World-Class Recipes

2 cups whole-wheat baking flour
1 cup all-purpose baking flour
1/2 cup ground flaxmeal
1/4 cup. brown sugar
1 Tb. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
3/4 cup cold butter
1 cup citrus juice (from oranges, clementines, tangelos, tangerines, etc.)
2 Tb. citrus rind
3/4 cups raw sunflower seeds
2 Tb. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside. Make sure your oven racks are set in the middle of your oven. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

Combine flours, flax, brown sugar, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Cut in cold butter using a pastry cutter or two sharp knives, crossed. Cut in the butter until the mixture resembles course crumbs. Set aside two tablespoons of citrus juice (for the glaze.) Pour the rest of the juice slowly into the dry mixture, fluffing the batter lightly with a fork as you mix. Stir in the sunflower seeds. After the juice is incorporated, you should have a lightly moist, flaky dough.

Turn the dough onto a cutting board and gently knead four or five times (just until the dough holds together.) Divide the dough in half, and press each half into a 6-inch circle that's about 1 inch thick. Cut each circle into six wedges, and place the scones on the prepared baking sheets. Pierce the tops of the scones with a fork.

Bring the 2 Tb. sugar, remaining citrus juice, vanilla, and citrus peel to a boil in a small saucepan, stirring occasionally. Let the glaze boil for 2 - 3 minutes, then remove it from heat. Use a pastry brush to coat the tops of the scones. (You'll add another coat of glaze after the scones bake.)

Bake the scones for 16 to 20 minutes, swapping oven racks halfway through. Remove from the oven when they begin to brown and brush with the remaining glaze. The scones will keep on the counter, wrapped in a plastic bag, for 2 - 3 days. Happy Kansas Day!

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Fruit + nut buttermilk scones
English seed bread
Ranger cookies

Red cabbage candy (cinnamon rode kool)

2011-01-19T22:00:00.000-08:00

Meet my new friend, red cabbage. Ain't she cute?

Cabbage and I had a rocky start in my teens and early twenties. I'd placed it firmly in the Savory/Sour Foods category. Cabbage meant boiled lumps of inedible greenery! Picnic "coleslaw" with mysterious, untrustworthy mayonnaise dressing! Stinky sauerkraut heaped onto a stadium brat! Thanks, but I'll pass.

My perspective on cabbage changed when I took a German class in Wichita. One night after two hours of vocab and verb conjugation, we all ate at Imbiss Grille downtown, taking the time to (slowly) order our dinner auf Deutsch. That's where I got hip to rode kool--a warm, sweet-spiced cabbage dish featuring cloves, apples, sugar, and sometimes raisins. It tasted like tart apple cobbler filling mixed with a cherry sweet tart. Who knew that cabbage could taste like candy?

Cabbage and I were so back on.

On Monday afternoon, when the sun shyly peeked out from the rainclouds, I experimented with a new ways to prepare my cruciferous friend. I wanted to create a sweet-tart cabbage salad like rode kool, but without all the fruit add-ins. Instead of a cooked dish, I started with a raw cabbage slaw. To that, I added a dressing of sugar, olive oil and raw apple cider vinegar (for its pucker factor.) I scrapped the three cloves my Melting Pot of Mennonite cookbook advised and instead added enough cinnamon to kill a mule.

Snap-bang! The results couldn't have been more lovely. After 30 minutes of marinating, I had a crunchy-sweet salad that I could not. stop. eating. The next day, after more cinnamon and dressing absorbed into the cabbage, it tasted even better. If the salad had lasted 'till day five, I'm sure it would have tasted better still.

Cinnamon rode kool slaw (without apples)
serves 8, 6, or....1

1 small head red cabbage, sliced thinly
2/3 cup raw apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup agave nectar or maple syrup
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 heaping Tb. ground cinnamon

Using a sharp knife, shred a small head of red cabbage into thin strips. Scoop all the cabbage into a large bowl and set aside.

In another bowl, whisk together the dressing. Pour the mixture over the cabbage and stir well. Let the cabbage and dressing mingle for five minutes, then stir again. Repeat this process two or three more times. If you end with too much cabbage and not enough dressing, add more liquid in these proportions: 1 TB. honey + 2 TB. vinegar + 1 tsp. cinnamon + 1/4 tsp. oil.

The slaw keeps for five days or so, when covered with plastic wrap in the fridge. On day one, you enjoy both distinct elements with each bite--the delicately flavored cabbage and the cinnamon dressing. On day three, the cabbage is still crunchy. It's turned purple-red with a pink center and sopped up most of the liquid. By day five, the slaw is no longer crunchy, but crisp-chewy to the bite, like a good sauerkraut. A sauerkraut you'd pile onto some warmed apple pie with a bit of honey-spiked yogurt.

How should you eat this divine slaw? On a bratwurst, next to a pile of mashed potatoes, on a turkey or a creamy Swiss and pepper sandwich? It would pair well with some barbecued peach pizza, or you could stuff it into some bierocks. (I'll have a recipe for those soon.)

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Three-minute strawberry salad with spearmint
Kicky coleslaw with brown sugar dressing
Cranberry peach salad with g.i.n.g.e.r

John-hopped into 2011

2011-01-09T18:30:00.000-08:00

Bacon fat, you're the gift that keeps on giving, the black pumps that never go out of style.

You're a classy Christmas gift that rocks well into the new year. I can't believe I waited so long to make your acquaintance! Especially since you're a good source of healthy saturated fat. (That's the rumor 'round the Internet, anyway.) I know that bacon made the rounds as the rock star of 2010--wrapped around dates, on cakes and doughnuts, in chocolate and everything else decadent, but I've never been hip to food trends.

In bacon's honor, I want belatedly usher in 2011 with a skillet full of bacon-laced beans and rice. Don't worry your Spandex-clad self over the bacon, because the dish is still low-fat and tasty.

Speaking of the new year, and of fitness, and of implied New Year's Resolutions...well, I'm running behind on those, too. I'm finally busy enough that when I resolve to run three times a week or to bake my own bread, something else has to get dropped from the list. I fail every year. My plate is finally full with blogging and knitting and family and friends; I can't heap more onto it. So, this year I get to decide what to keep and what to toss. I'm taking my sweet time to write that resolutions list, letting each change percolate before I commit it to paper.

I've added calling my mother on Sundays and dropped handmade cards. And I'm keeping plenty of old things I love: good-luck peas on New Year's Day, making cookies at the drop of a hat, my ancient mp3 player, promising handmade gifts to people (then sweating it out over how to make them), walking to work and watching Steel Magnolias while making Hoppin' John.

Traditionally, you're supposed to eat Hoppin' John on New Year's Day to bring good luck. I hope there's a grace period on that luck, because I'm running behind schedule. What a great blend of old and new--a traditional dish you eat as you think of the year ahead. Go make some. It should be listed in the "freezes beautifully" section of your cookbook.

Hoppin' John adapted from Betty Crocker
serves 6

1/2 cup dried kidney beans
1/2 cup dried black beans
4 cups water
2 oz. thick-cut bacon or salt pork
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup long-grain brown rice
1 tsp. salt
1 - 2 Tb. hot chili sauce

Pour the beans into a three-quart saucepan and rinse well with cold water. Once the beans have been washed (removing any dust or small rocks in the batch) measure four cups of cold water back in the saucepan.

Bring the beans and water to a rolling boil for two minutes; cover the pan and reduce the heat to a cheerful simmer. Let the beans simmer for an hour, or just until the beans are tender. Drain the beans, but reserve two cups of the liquid. Set aside.

Cook the bacon or salt pork in a10" cast iron skillet, over medium heat. When the bacon is crisp, stir in the onion and garlic. Saute the veggies until they're tender, stirring occasionally. Pour the two cups of bean liquid, salt, rice, and beans into your skillet. Make sure the beans and rice are spread evenly in the skillet and that the bean liquid is distributed well in the skillet.

Heat the mixture to boiling. Stir everything once or twice, then cover the skillet and let everything simmer for 15 minutes. Don't lift the lid or stir the hoppin' john during this time. After 15 minutes, fluff the rice and beans with a fork. Recover the dish and let it steam for another 5 to 10 minutes. You'll know the dish is done when the rice is fluffy and chewy-tender. Stir in some chili sauce and serve hot.

"That's what really melts my butter!" --Truvy Jones

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Cajun shrimp and rice
New Year black-eyed peas
Red beans and rice

Gingerbread biscotti and a plane to catch

2010-12-21T10:00:00.000-08:00

Well, Raymond and I are scooting off to the Midwest for a week.

Our bags are not packed, my Portland Christmas gifts are not distributed, and I forgot to get a haircut. Still, haircut or no haircut, we're leaving tomorrow after lunch. Oh boy. I hope all of our family's presents will make it through airport security. I've read too many TSA horror stories online, and now I'm terrified of the whole process.

Raymond and I held our small gift exchange last night--just the two of us--while listening to a set of Readers Digest records called Christmas Through the Years. Raymond and his family used to listen to them during the holidays. We drank Swiss Miss coca, let the kitties play in our wrapping paper, and enjoyed each other's company...and our presents. It was perfectly cozy and relaxed. Santa brought me a book shelf. Perhaps you spied it in the above photo. Santa used all of my wrapping paper for that one.

I bought a Don Draper-style hat for Raymond, among other things. He really loves this hat. He hasn't taken it off yet. That hat will probably remain firmly perched on his head through our entire vacation. I'm OK with that. He looks handsome wearing it.

This morning, we're busy packing and cleaning to prepare for two house guests who will watch the kitties while we're gone. I love house swaps; when Raymond and I get to Kansas, we'll house sit for Elise, who is going to Arizona for the holidays. Everybody wins, and nobody has to pay for a hotel on the week of Christmas. I'm leaving some biscotti for our guests and taking some more to Kansas with me. If you've got an hour, perhaps you'd like to make some, too.

Don't worry; the gingerbread flavor doesn't overpower the cookie. Despite its name, these gingerbread biscotti taste like a crunchy Italian cookie instead of a heavy, buttery holiday monstrosity. It's cookie, not cake. The white chocolate and cardamom just add another layer of heavenly taste. I hope these gifts reach their destination. I may not be able to resist snacking on the plane. I'm terrible about that....

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all of you there in Cyberland. Party it up good!

Gingerbread biscotti with white chocolate-cardamom icing
makes 20 crazy-sized cookies
or 30 sane-person cookies

Cookies

1/2 cup olive oil (the fruitier, the better)
1 cup sugar, minus 2 Tb.
2 Tb. dark molasses
2 large eggs
1 cup chopped walnuts
1 tsp. vanilla
4 drops clove oil
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat baking flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. ginger
1/2 tsp. nutmeg

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Cream together olive oil, sugar, and molasses in a large bowl. Beat the heck out of it with a whisk. Beat in the eggs, clove oil, and vanilla. Set aside.

Mix together flours, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger in another bowl. Mix dry ingredients into the wet batter until just combined. Stir in the walnuts.

Grease a cookie sheet. Form 2 - 3 logs of dough on the sheet, spaced several inches apart. Make sure log is 3 - 4" wide (the dough will spread while baking.) Bake the biscotti for 15 minutes at 375 degrees, then lower temperature to 350 degrees. Bake for another 20 minutes (15 for 3 loaves.) Loaves should be a light golden brown on the outside.

Remove from oven. Use a sharp, thin-bladed knife to quickly (and gently!) slice 1/2 - 3/4" cookies. Turn the cookies on their side and bake for five minutes more. Flip the cookies and repeat. Cool on a wire baking rack.

Icing

4 oz. white chocolate (or an entire Ghiradelli baking bar)
4 drops cinnamon oil
1 tsp. cardamom
2 - 5 Tb. half & half

Create a double boiler on your stove top to melt the white chocolate. Nestle a small saucepan into a larger saucepan that's 2/3-full of simmering water. Slowly melt the white chocolate in the small saucepan.

Measure the powdered sugar into a bowl. Once the chocolate is melted, carefully whisk it into the sugar. Add cinnamon oil, cardamom, and 2 Tb. cream. Keep whisking and adding cream 1 Tb. at a time until you have the icing consistency of your choice.

Brush icing onto cookies or biscotti with a pastry brush. Let sit at room temperature for at least an hour to set.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Almond biscotti with lemon icing
Chocolate chip biscotti with orange
Pumpkin cream cheese muffins

We like pie

2010-12-12T19:00:00.000-08:00

Hi there.

Can you tell me why December is almost halfway over? Where does time go?

How are those holiday baking plans going? You know, the plans: the demanding, over-the-top, "I will show everyone I've ever met exactly how much I love them through baked goods and they will love me forever" rigmarole you promised you wouldn't fall for this year?

Yeah, mine are kicking my ass, too. Why do I spend so much time on marthastewart.com? That perfect life is unachievable, unless your name is Martha Stewart and you've parlayed "the good life" into a career. She's a smart lady.

I'm also a smart lady, but I my life isn't Martha Stewart Living. To honor that distinction, I'm abandoning my plans to make peppermint icicles, a gingerbread cheesecake, caramels, AND a salted peanut brittle, wrapped prettily in home-made paper, with handwritten cards for all....and with only ten days before we fly to Denver. Whew! That felt good. (Raymond and I are going to Kansas and Colorado for Christmas; I'm certain the cheesecake wouldn't make it through airport security. The TSA may view candy icicles as a threat.)

The pressure to make new treats with new recipes involving expensive ingredients and clever packaging--each year--drives me insane! I always push off holiday baking 'till the last minute, with no time for a back-up plan. What a recipe for disaster.

So, instead of foisting another exotic holiday recipe on you today, I offer a recipe for comfort food, made with ingredients you have in your pantry and freezer. Have you tried your hand at turkey pot pies? Forget about Marie Calendar. If you've got an afternoon to an invest and a keen desire to clean your freezer of leftovers, you can make enough pot pies to power through the winter.

To create these pies, Kristen and I borrowed Neighbor Brian's kitchen for an afternoon. (Brian's a hardworking pharmacist who almost never cooks in his immaculate kitchen.) Kristen and I envied his clear counter space. What a good sport! Brian kept us company while we cooked, played some rockin' Beatles tunes, and offered to run to Safeway for soda and wine. We fed him lots of pot pie.

In three hours, Kristen and I baked 12 cupcake-sized turkey pies, a turkey hand pie, and a full-sized turkey pie. We shared the full-sized pie with Brian and our spouses, then divided the rest among ourselves to freeze for later.

I hope you find an afternoon to make these pies. In January, when the peanut brittle and sugar cookies are long gone, it'll be nice to celebrate leftovers and to eat a savory--not sweet--pie.*

Visionary Turkey Pot Pies
makes 12 hand pies or 18 cupcake-sized pies

Filling:

(If you're out of leftover turkey, substitute chicken for pies of equal deliciousness)

3 cups cooked turkey, cut into small cubes
1 cups celery, chopped
1 cup cooked carrots, cubed
1/2 cup frozen corn
1/2 cup green beans, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 cup cooked onion, chopped
1/2 cup fresh parsley, chopped
3 -4 sprigs fresh rosemary
2 cups turkey broth
1-2 cups turkey gravy (give or take)*

Small note: You can make this filling yourself, but if you enlist a friend to help, one of you can prep filling while the other rolls dough. You'll save a lot of time if you can prepare the dough and filling simultaneously.

Chop your turkey, carrots, celery, onion, and parsley into small, bite-sized pieces. Mix this together into a shallow pan with the frozen corn and the green beans. Toss in some fresh rosemary and a 1/2 tsp. of sea salt, and warm in an oven while you prepare the gravy.

Turkey gravy

(An approximation of Kristen's shoot-from-the-hip, no-measure recipe)

drippings from a roasted turkey (or 1/4 cup butter)
2 cups turkey stock, strained
4 Tb. flour
cornstarch (optional)
1/2 cup Riesling or other white wine
1/2 cup cream
salt or pepper to taste

Add drippings (or butter) to a saucepan and warm over medium heat. Quickly whisk in the flour (and, for thicker gravy, 1 tablespoon of cornstarch) making sure there are no bumps or lumps.

When the mixture is smooth and begins to bubble, slowly whisk in the turkey stock and wine. Let the gravy simmer until it thickens, stirring occasionally. Remove the gravy from heat and stir in cream.

Remove the pan of fillings from the oven. Stir in a cup of turkey broth, then a cup of gravy. You may leave the filling like this or stir in up to another two cups of gravy for a "juicier" pie.

Crust:

4 cups all-purpose wheat flour
1 cups butter or shortening, cold and cut into
1 1/2 tsp. sea salt
6-8 Tb. cold water

Mix together flour and sea salt in a large bowl. Cut in the butter, using either a pastry cutter or two sharp knives, crossed. Mash the butter into the flours until the pieces are pea-sized. Sprinkle a spoonful of cold water over the dough, then toss everything gently with a fork. Repeat this process, one spoonful of water at a time, until the dough is just moistened.

For hand pies: Divide the dough into 12 equally sized balls. Flatten each ball on a lightly floured surface, and roll the dough from the center to the edges into a 6" diameter circle. To transfer the dough circles to a baking sheet, roll each one gently around the rolling pin, and dust the dough occasionally with flour as you roll. Scoop a 1/2 cup of filling into each dough circle; fold the dough over to make a half-circle pie and pinch the edges together. You can fit 4 - 5 hand pies onto each baking sheet.

For cupcakes: Line two cupcake pans with metal cupcake liners and set aside. On a floured surface, roll out the pastry dough to a 1/4" thickness. Use a biscuit cutter (or coffee mug) to cut out dough circles; you'll need about a 5"-diameter circle for each bottom crust and a slightly smaller round for the top crust. Each cupcake-sized pie holds about 1/3 of a cup of filling. As with the hand pies, make sure all the edges are crimped down.

Bake the pies for 30 - 45 minutes at 350 degrees, rotating the pans/sheets halfway through. Allow the pies to cool for at least 10 minutes before serving. Freeze the leftovers in heavy-duty freezer bags after wrapping each pie in plastic wrap.

*Savory, individually sized pies are the rage here in Portland, especially among the city's food carts. In fact, Whiffies Fried Pies deals exclusively in hand pies. My friend, Holly, recently shared an article that claims pie is the new cupcake in food fashion. It's about dang time.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Gouda mushroom quiche
Maple buttermilk pie
Easy tamale pie

And the winner is....

2010-12-03T08:30:00.000-08:00

After using a fool-proof, scientific method............

In which no kitties were harmed (though they were so curious and eager to help that I couldn't get a focused picture...)

I am happy to announce the winners of the Print and Tasty Treat Drawing:

Congratulations, Christa, Lyndsey and Michele! Your names were drawn at random out of a derby hat by me, with the help of my kitty, Calpurnia. I'll be in touch soon to get your mailing addresses.

Thank you all for commenting and reading. There's a post about homemade epic pot pies coming soon!

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Chocolate chip walnut cookies

One hundred posts, a thousand thanks

2010-11-21T10:30:00.001-08:00

This is my 100th post. In a Pickle is old enough to have a Centennial entry. I can't believe it. It seems like just yesterday that I started this blog as a creative outlet from my cut-and-dried news jobs.

At first, I thought I'd share a few family stories and a few recipes that anchor my life...and within a few months, I'd run out of things to say. Well. Here we are two years later, and I have yet to share my mother's recipe for Danish Shepperd's Pie. The end is nowhere in sight.

snow ice cream

I want to thank you for joining my cooking adventures. When I write here, I am not just howling into the darkness; you join me in my kitchen and we share our stories. So thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, for commenting, and for connecting with me through cooking. It gives me joy to know that humans have come together over food for thousands of years, and we're carrying on that tradition.

meringues noir

Because it's Thanksgiving here in the U.S., because I'm thankful for you, and because I love giving gifts, I have a present for you. And since I don't have the resources to travel to your home and cook you a meal (which I would love to do,) I'll have to connect with you in pictures. On December 1st, I will randomly select three readers and send them a beautiful, ready-to-frame print made from one of the photographs in this blog. I'll include a recipe on the back of the print and some tasty treats.

Not-so-naughty Senator bunt cake

All you have to do is leave a comment on this post! The easy-to-ship treats I have in mind are: chocolate coconut flax granola, cherry chili chocolate chip cookies, Karen's Nutella hazelnut cookies, or almond biscotti with lemon icing. However, if you have another favorite recipe of mine and if the USPS can deliver it safely, I'll try to oblige you. I want to give you a gift you'll like!

Before I leave you, I do have a Thanksgiving recipe to share. If you live in the U.S., you probably have your traditional foods prepared already. However, if you're searching for a great host/hostess gift to bring to the feast, consider this quick spiced pumpkin bread.

I bumped up the intensity of the pumpkin pie spices, plus added a healthy dose of extra-strong brewed chai teas to give the pumpkin a more complex, belly-warming flavor. The bread bakes up in an hour, freezes well, and slices like a dream. Happy Thanksgiving, and thanks for reading my blog.

Chai-spiced Pumpkin Bread
serves 8

4 bags Stash chai spice black tea, steeped in 2/3 cup near-boiling water
1 1/2 cups cane sugar
1/2 cup light-flavored oil, like canola
2 large eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree
1 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and steep the tea bags in hot water. Grease a loaf pan with butter or vegetable shortening.

In a large bowl, whisk together the sugar, oil, and eggs until creamy. Stir in pumpkin and chai tea until combined. In a smaller bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda and spices. Whisk the dry ingredients into the bowl of wet ingredients, stirring until just combined. Stir in the chopped nuts.

Pour the batter into the loaf pan and bake for about 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the bread's center comes out clean. Let the bread cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then run a knife around the pan's edges and turn the bread out onto a cooling rack. Once the bread is cooled, slice with a serrated knife and serve or wrap tightly in plastic wrap and foil and freeze.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Ms. Rita's Banana Bread
Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffins
Double lemon, double poppy seed cake