Noms for the Poor

My Mother's Bread

2013-05-17T11:03:00.003-04:00

My mother has been making her own bread for most of her life, using the same trusted recipe that she's perfected over time. I called her up several months ago asking for it and jotted it down hastily as she narrated it over the phone. I've made bread in the past, but it never turned out like my mother's - her loaves were always perfectly formed, with dark brown exteriors that weren't thick or crusty or hard to slice through. They were always baked evenly throughout, and even though they were made with whole wheat flour they weren't too heavy or dense, but had a light crumbly texture.

I missed my mom's bread, so I decided it was time to get her recipe and see if some of her bread making wisdom had rubbed off on me over the years. I've watched her make bread ever since I was little and could have used her bread mixing bowl as a winter sled. She taught me how to knead bread and form it into loaves (although mine always end up looking a little odd). She showed me the trick of using your wrist to gauge the temperature of the water for proofing yeast: "If it's warm enough to wash a baby, it's the right temperature". (I'm still not sure that I would trust myself to wash a baby though.)

Of course, the main thing with making bread is patience. My mother always used to make bread on the weekends, on a lazy Saturday or Sunday. The big bread bowl would come out, along with the bread pans, darkened with use, and the entire morning or afternoon would be dedicated to the making of bread. She'd occupy herself with other chores or just relax in between rises - even though the bread takes about three hours to make, the majority of that time is spent waiting. My father and I would always wait impatiently, both of us looking forward to that first slice of fresh bread, still warm from the oven, smeared with melting butter.

So be warned, this bread requires time and patience, but it's more than worth it, if only for that first glorious slice.

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Spicy Black Bean Dip

2013-05-05T09:41:00.001-04:00

Happy Cinco de Mayo! Apparently, today is not much celebrated in Mexico, but I will take any excuse I can get to invite people over to eat a ton of Mexican food. (It goes without saying how amazing it is.)

For example: black bean dip. You wouldn't think such a humble appetizer item would be worth getting excited over - I didn't. That was, until a month ago, when I sampled some innocuous-looking "black bean spread" from Mad Mexican. Holy shit. That stuff was fantastic. I may or may not have consumed an entire package of it in one night.

It was so damn good, in fact, that the very same night I went home determined to recreate that magical black bean spread. So at 11 pm, I strode into my apartment laden with tortilla chips, black beans, and various other grocery items, and made a beeline for the kitchen and my food processor. In a matter of some minutes, I had created my very own black bean spread. While it was by no means a recreation of the taste experience I'd had earlier, it was still delicious and awesome in its own right.

This spread has a lot of zing to it, and it's packed with a few of my favourite things: garlic, cilantro, cumin, jalapeños, and lime. Honestly, with all of those things together, it's hard to go wrong.

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Creamy Tahini Breakfast Polenta

2013-04-18T15:37:00.001-04:00

I love breakfast. I love the ritual of it, the smell of my first cup of coffee, the morning light, of having that moment to settle into the day just as it begins.

However, this romantic dreamy breakfast fantasy is not much of a reality. At least not in my life. I'm lucky if I manage to make a cup of coffee and finish it before I run out the door. I'm having an especially good day if I have time to eat an orange or a few spoonfuls of yogurt (straight from the container). Usually I'm running on caffeine for the first three hours of the day before I manage to shove a bagel or a granola bar in my mouth.

Gone are the days when I used to awake at 6 am, eat a balanced breakfast, then head to the gym before going to work. I have no idea how the hell I managed to pull that off without drugs or magic. These days, if I manage to pull myself out of bed at 7 am it's a freaking miracle.

So breakfast doesn't always happen for me these days. Sometimes I get up early like an adult and eat an egg on toast, but most days I just stare at the contents of my fridge in vain for something that I can whip up and eat in five minutes, cursing myself for not having made breakfast ahead the night before. However, the other week I whipped up a batch of this creamy breakfast polenta, and for a few days, I had breakfast all ready to go. No more staring sadly into the fridge, no more running out the door on an empty stomach. I felt like a pro.

Of course, as soon as I ran out of it, I fell back into bad habits. I'm not fretting - it's all about finding a good morning rhythm. Eventually I'll fall into a better one, that involves coffee, breakfast, and enough extra time to check my Twitter feed. Maybe I'll even start doing pushups and planks - but let's not get too ambitious just yet. For now, let's just eat some polenta.

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Thai Green Curry + Vegetarian Thai Green Curry Paste

2013-04-10T18:41:00.001-04:00

Several weeks back, when Toronto was experiencing Winter's Last Hurrah and the idea of spring was seeming more and more like some cruel joke, I found myself in the north of the city with my friend Anna, both of us hungry for a warm dinner. It was rather fortuitous for us, then, that we also happened to be walking along a strip of Yonge Street populated with Asian restaurants and noodle joints. It still took several minutes of wandering (not including a stop for sweets at an Iranian bakery) before we could decide which kind of hot and spicy dinner we were craving, but eventually we walked into a fusion restaurant and ordered some Thai green curry.

I have to say, if there's something in this world that can both warm your Canadian-winter-beaten soul and brighten your senses, it's a Thai curry. Most comfort food I grew up with was of the heavier variety - mac'n cheese, potato soup, scalloped potatoes, hamburger soup - it was hot, filling, and always delicious, but it also almost always made you want to take a 4-hour nap afterwards.

But a Thai curry...it's comforting, but it also has the ability to set your mouth on fire (depending on how adventurous you are) and it's rather difficult to take a nap when it feels like a part of your body is in flames. (I recently ate an entire Thai green chile on a dare, which caused me to experience such intense sensations that I cried against my will, shoved crackers into my face, then stood in the hallway and emitted a noise that can only be described as that of a baby dinosaur who's been abandoned by its mother.)

Suffice to say, the dinner Anna and I had that day (which also ended in a snowstorm) made me realize the deficiency of Thai curry in my life, a lack I henceforth decided to remedy.

I have since made this recipe three times, so I think I have thus far done a good job of remedying my Thai curry deficiency. I hope it brings some slightly fiery comfort to you as well in these early wet days of spring.

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Breakfast Strata, or Savoury Bread Pudding

2013-03-30T09:08:00.001-04:00

This started out as French toast, but at some point was derailed and turned into what I was calling savoury French toast, until I realized that it was an actual thing called a strata.

It all began with a breakfast meeting at work that featured a baked challah French toast. Now, I've never been very partial to French toast. In my experience, it's always been store-bought slices of bread dunked in a mixture of eggs and milk and fried, then served with a generous helping of maple syrup. Nothing wrong with that, really, but as far as I'm concerned, utterly boring. There are many other things I'd rather eat in the morning than spongy bread soaked with syrup.

But this French toast - this was something different. It was closer to bread pudding, with thick cubes of challah bread soaked in a vanilla flavoured egg and milk mixture overnight, topped with just a drizzle of caramel sauce, baked until golden and crispy on top and custardy underneath. Before that meeting, French toast did nothing for me, but that challah French toast changed everything.

And, rather fortuitously, I had only just been given a homemade loaf of challah. Clearly the stars had aligned for this French toast. It was destined for me.

So I arrived home and triumphantly announced that I'd had a French toast revelation and knew exactly what we'd be having for breakfast on Good Friday. Only, a certain roommate of mine, who has issues about eating sweet things in the morning, put in a request for a savoury version.

And so, because I am a mostly good friend and roommate, I made a savoury breakfast strata, or bread pudding, or whatever else you might want to call it. Partly also because my roommates and I are all in agreement that if you add cheese to something, it will be awesome.

Which it was - very awesome.

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Kale Palak Paneer + Homemade Paneer

2013-03-28T16:25:00.000-04:00

My good friend and roommate, Lianne, was born in India and spent her early childhood there, and while she claims she is a "bad Indian" (since doesn't speak Hindi or eight other languages) she does know how to make a good curry. And while curry is as exciting to Lianne as mashed potatoes and gravy is to me, she indulges both me and my other roommate every now and then and cooks up a curry for us, a cause for great joy and cheer.

Once, however, I was craving curry something fierce and Lianne was out of town and unable to teleport herself back into our kitchen to make us curry (to our everlasting sorrow), so I went ahead and attempted to make the recipe myself. Lianne's "recipe," however, is not so much a recipe as "put these things in a pot and then add spices until it tastes right." Upon asking her how much spice to use, I received these instructions: "Hard to say. Lots of turmeric and cumin, medium garam, a little coriander. Chili powder to taste. Sorry I can't be more specific."

Yet in spite of her cryptic instructions, I managed to make a pretty good curry. It was not the same as her curry, of course, but as I have discovered, if you use the "Magic Five Spices" Lianne swears by (turmeric, cumin, garam masala, coriander, Indian chili powder) you're going to end up with something delicious.

As I mentioned, though, Lianne does not share the same love of Indian food that the rest of our household. Except, that is, when it comes to Palak Paneer, which is her favourite Indian dish ever. It's a rich & silky spinach curry with cubes of paneer (Indian fresh cheese) stewed in it. It is, quite simply, delicious, and once Lianne made it for us I determined that I also had to learn how to make it, because it is a dish our household cannot be without.

But because whenever I make something I have to change it, I decided to switch up a few of the traditional ingredients, using cashews instead of cream, and kale instead of spinach. I have never been much of a fan of cooked spinach (it has a strange earthy bitterness I don't like), and so decided to use kale (which also just happened to be in the fridge at the time). When cooked, though, kale mellows out, losing most of its bitterness and becoming, dare I say, rather palatable. (Because let's face it, raw kale just doesn't taste good.) Paired with yogurt, cashews, and the Magic Five Spices, this dish is something of a revelation.

I think even Lianne would agree.

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Making Bagels, Roasted Garlic Parsley Butter & Honey Butter

2013-03-18T23:38:00.000-04:00

Making Bagels with Anna from Liz Mochrie on Vimeo.

You may recall me talking about my friend Anna the other week. She, like me, is obsessed with baking things and taking pictures of said baked things and posting them on the internet.

You may also recall that I mentioned we made bagels this one time - well, she made bagels. I watched and took pictures and made a video, because food blogger friends take pictures of food blogger friends (it's how we roll).

Anyways, back to more important things: bagels. Specifically, black sesame seed bagels and chocolate chip bagels. Even more specifically, bagels with roasted garlic parsley butter and honey butter.

Thing is, however, I can't tell you how to make bagels. (I was more concerned with eating them than being helpful.) But Anna can, so if you're craving some bagels in your life, head on over to her blog Cupcakes Always Win for the recipe!

In the meantime, I can offer you pictures and recipes for delicious spreads (to be smeared on bagels, toast, or other appropriate surfaces).

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Almond Date Breakfast Bars

2013-03-01T20:36:00.000-05:00

I have a very long list of "should do" things. Things I think adults must be doing, that I'm maybe sort of also supposed to be doing. I frequently get the crazy idea that I will one day be able to do all of these should-do things, making silent resolutions to myself - Listen to podcasts! Understand my taxes! Do push-ups! Not buy more shoes! Eat ridiculous amounts of spinach!

These resolutions, such as they are, don't ever seem to hold, though. And yet, the fantasy that I will one day become this magical should-do person, who eats a balanced breakfast every morning, takes a spin class, does yoga while listening to thought-provoking podcasts, makes tortellini from scratch, has and actually uses a day-planner remains. If I was such a magical freak of a person, I'd probably be making money from Instagramming my breakfast, host my own book club, backpack through Europe and then write a best-selling book about it.

But I am not such a person. The last time I did yoga I invented my own mantra that went something like "Ow ow ow NO". I would rather sit at home eating tortilla chips and gain ten pounds than take a spin class (what is the POINT - THERE IS NO HILL TO CLIMB, THE JOURNEY IS POINTLESS). I subscribed to two podcasts months ago and now I have over 100 un-listened-to episodes on my phone. I write to-do lists on my hand.

But sometimes, I get should-do shit done. Like snacks. Because the magical motivated successful people of the world always have tasty, healthy, portable snacks on hand. They probably wrap them in parchment paper and tie them in bows of twine too, but we won't go that far. (They are snacks, after all, not Martha Stewart props.)

There is something to be said for the convenience of having a bag of breakfast bars in your freezer, though. For those days when you slept in (in spite of the five times your alarm went off) and breakfast happens while you walk to work, or for a mid-morning pick-me-up after your first (or second) cup of coffee wears off. Or, for those times you go on a spontaneous road trip and you don't want to spend all your money on crappy muffins to keep yourself fuelled along the way.

These bars, from the always reliable and amazing Smitten Kitchen, are such snacks. They are delicious, delightfully fuss-free, and are packed with enough good things to make them admirable breakfast material. And making them might just make you feel a bit more motivated...maybe even magical.

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Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Ginger Muffins

2013-02-10T21:20:00.002-05:00

As it so happens, my day job involves a lot of baking. A lot of baking. Some days I arrive home and don't wish to contemplate any type of food but cucumber and celery. (It's a hard-knock life for us.)

There are days when I'm convinced I've baked my last, that I won't be able to look at another chocolate chip or eat another cookie again in my life. But then I always wake up the next day to find that chocolate is as awesome as it ever was, and who could ever possibly consider excluding cookies from their life?

It also helps that I work with my awesome friend and fellow baker, food blogger & photographer Anna of Cupcakes Always Win. If you're ever craving some form of deliciousness involving butter and sugar, you should definitely head on over and look through her recipes. I have first-hand knowledge of their awesomeness.

So, when she invited me over the other weekend for a day of baking and food photography, I couldn't say no. After all, she did make me bagels. From scratch. (Soon to come, I promise!)

In addition to the alluded-to bagel making, we also made a batch of amazing muffins that were devoured at an alarming rate. You can see Anna's post about it here!

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Cumin & Mustard Seed Roasted Potatoes

2013-02-06T23:10:00.001-05:00

There is no meaningful or nostalgic story behind this recipe. It's the kind of recipe that falls under the category of "I just woke up, it's Saturday, I drank too much wine last night, I really don't want to put on real pants...I need carbs."

And considering my roommates and I recently bottled 30 bottles of sauvignon blanc...our Saturdays have been filled with more carbs than usual. Pancakes, homefries...tortilla chips.

I'm almost always the first one up on Saturday, probably because of my need to make breakfast happen sooner rather than later (even if you're serving it just after noon, it still counts as breakfast!).

The morning usually goes something like this:

Stare at clock blearily and realize it's 7:30 am. Feel immense sadness. Realize it's Saturday. Feel immense joy. Sleep.

Roll over, see the clock, notice that it's 10 am. Fall out of bed.

Shower, hopefully without falling over.

Put pj pants back on.

Make coffee. Consume. Feel human again.

Locate carbs. Make breakfast.

It was on such a weekend that these roasted potatoes happened. I'd had discovered a week previous that homefries are much more labour intensive than any weekend breakfast ever should be. Parboiling, frying, frying...frying...still frying...frying without hope...I was not impressed. But roasted potatoes - now there's something. All you have to do is wash, cut, and toss them in good things and then throw them in the oven. Which then proceeds to do all the work for you. Leaving you time to drink more coffee, watch an episode of something, and generally enjoy your weekend morning.
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Sesame Snack Bars

2013-01-06T16:30:00.001-05:00

I used to think that sesame snaps - you know, those cracker-thin crispy cookies made of essentially sesame seeds and sugar - were a thing of the past, until I found them in the subway station in a desperate search for a snack to prevent me from eating my own scarf or attacking anyone carrying a bagel. (It had been a long, snack-less shift.) And there they were, nestled among the energy bars and the Larabars, in the exact same packaging as ten years ago, like a well-preserved relic of my childhood.

So after years of sesame snap-less living, I devoured several on the subway ride home (instead of stealing food from passers-by). And I determined on that subway ride that I would create my own sesame snacks, because I've been having a bit of a sesame affair lately, and also, I need snacks.

Being without snacks is dangerous living for me - when nothing is available in the house, I start to make bad life choices, like eating jam straight out of the jar with a fork, or devouring leftover cookies or, god forbid, going to Shoppers after the holidays to buy on-sale chocolate (REGRET. So much regret will come from this decision). So in order to avoid such poor life choices, I try to make healthy snacks on a regular(ish) basis. Because you can't really eat marmalade out of a jar and then feel good about yourself.

And so I made these sesame snack bars. They're simple - only 3 ingredients! - and taste remarkably like the sesame snaps that inspired them, only they're easier and cheaper to make, and healthier to eat. Now that's my kind of snack.

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Happy New Year + Cake

2013-01-04T01:53:00.000-05:00

So the holidays are over, but I still haven't managed to shake off that feeling of lethargy that comes with the winter holiday season. I still want to curl up with a book in a warm place next to an excessively furry dog, wear ski pants instead of jeans, eat ridiculous amounts of chocolate and spend the daylight hours outside in the snow.

But slowly I'm crawling out of this holiday reverie, back into the real world where I have to buy my own groceries, pay to do my laundry (and lug said laundry up and down three flights of stairs), and do my taxes (oh joy). I guess taking all the Bing Crosby Christmas carols off my iTunes playlist is a good start. His crooning just doesn't fit anymore - not with the slushy city streets and that early new year feeling (you know, the resolution madness that seizes everyone and magically transports them to the nearest gym).

Only a week ago, bursting into songs from White Christmas (however bad the singing was) seemed entirely appropriate. I went back home for the holidays, to small-town northwestern Ontario, and going back, I felt as if I wasn't just shifting into another time zone but into a different pace of living.

Going back home always feels a bit like putting on a pair of old, hideous, and utterly comfortable pyjamas. It's familiar, comforting, and a little bit embarrassing.

But going back home for the holidays also means several very specific things to me: a frigid house, skiing (no matter how out of shape I am), and my mother's baking.

Each Christmas, my mother, like most mothers, goes a little insane. By which I mean, insane with baking.

As a child, she and I used to make sugar cookies together, using the same cookie cutters each year. We didn't use any fancy decorating techniques or any pastry bags to decorate them, just a simple buttercream, food colouring, and a butter knife. (Though Santa did always end up having an outfit that was more salmon than red...) I can't think of those cookies without tasting vanilla and butter on my tongue.

And there have always been truffles, of course, rich, dense orbs of chocolate flavoured with the sharpness of coffee liqueur. My mother rarely makes sugar cookies these days, but there are always truffles at Christmas. Whenever I arrive home for the holidays, I know there will be tins upon tins of truffles stored in the freezer, and each night, a little plate of them will appear after dinner. Really, this is how all winter nights should end: with a hot cup of tea and chocolate.

This year, however, I branched out a little from family Christmas tradition and begged my mother to make The Birthday Cake.

We call it The Birthday Cake out of old habit, despite the fact that my mother makes this cake for any occasion and does not simply restrict its use to birthdays. It's a cake she's made for as long as I can remember. The Birthday Cake has simply always been and always will be.

Yet, in spite of the fact that I have long been established as "the baker" in the household (an obsessive and compulsive one), I have never even once attempted to make this particular cake. There are some recipes that are too nostalgic, are attached to too many memories, that to try and make them oneself would be a kind of sacrilege.

And I know I could simply never make this cake the way my mother makes it. This is her recipe; she knows it, her hands remember it. She might check the recipe book once to reassure her memory, but her hands move with the certainty of muscle memory.

And there are just some things that only a mother's hands can make.

"The Birthday Cake" (Chocolate Mocha Roll) from Liz Mochrie on Vimeo.

(I had the chance to film my mother making the cake, despite having no sweet clue what the hell I was doing. As you can probably tell. Shhh.)

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All Natural Nanaimo Bars

2012-12-08T23:19:00.000-05:00

When I think of nanaimo bars, I think of afternoon tea fundraisers and Winnie the Pooh.

My mother used to bring me to the teas held by the Cancer Society, and there were always trays of sweets laid out on tables, each piled high with little squares of sweetness in various forms. Nanaimo bars were always my favourite - three layers of intensely sweet deliciousness. I would eat each layer separately, in a routine-like fashion.

The first thing was to peel off the thin layer of smooth chocolate ganache from the top, sometimes break in two, and either devour immediately or let it melt on my tongue. The filling was the best part: creamy, rich, and so sweet it led to an instant sugar rush. Then the base, which helped me come down from my sugar-load filling experience. It was chewy, less sweet, and full of coconut - a satisfying finish.

And once I was high on nanaimo bars, I'd hit up the movie station and watch Winnie the Pooh movies. They were kind of the bomb.

So yes, I had a bit of a thing for nanaimo bars as a kid. I'd head straight for them at teas, Christmas parties, and showers like a homing pigeon.

I still have a fondness for nanaimo bars; every once in a while I'll buy one of those giant squares from a coffee shop, eat it too quickly and then spend the rest of the day in a sugar coma.

Then, a while back, a craving for nanaimo bars hit me, but instead of heading to the nearest Starbucks, I decided to make my own version - one that wouldn't have me sugar crashing within ten minutes of eating. I came up with a dessert that's fairly similar to the original, but not nearly as sweet, and with enough "good" things in it that I didn't feel bad eating more than one...or three...

And judging from my roommates' reactions to them, I'd say they felt the same way too.

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Almond Pesto

2012-11-03T00:04:00.002-04:00

For the longest time I only knew pesto as the excessively oily, fermented-smelling substance that the restaurant I worked at ordered in bulk. It was packaged in small glass jars, and came in two flavours: basil and sundried tomato. Half a shelf was dedicated to these little jars of red and green pesto, as if in perpetual Christmas spirit.

A centimetre of oil always floated at the top of each jar, and I used to despise opening them. The jars would inevitably become greasy to the touch, and after a brief struggle with the lid, the opened jar of pesto would emit the pungent smell of parmesan.

I realize this is all very unappetizing and more than a little unpleasant to visualize. I assure you that I did not find this initial experience of pesto in any way pleasant. To be exact, I found it more than a little repulsive.

And then, somewhere along the way, I fell in love with pesto. I think it began with the realization that basil pesto, cucumbers, tomatoes, and black olives is a magical combination. From then on, I began to realize the deliciousness that is pesto. The sharpness of the basil that borders on sweetness, combined with the rich saltiness of the parmesan and the bite of garlic, is a divine creation, and one that I have since made a point of making and eating whenever possible.

Because of course, like so many store-bought things, the oily Christmas-coloured pestos in jars was not particularly exceptional. It always left an acrid aftertaste on my tongue - an assertive taste as easy to get rid of as raw onion.

And yet it still took me a long time before I began making my own pesto. Initially, I was put off by the inescapable richness of it - with cheese, pine nuts, and olive oil as 3 of its five main ingredients, it's not exactly light. In other words, I was scared away by the fat. But over the past year, things like fat content and calories have begun to mean less to me, and I've started to enjoy food more. This is not to say that I've stopped being health conscious and eat buckets of ice cream whenever I feel like it, just that I don't attach so much guilt to eating, and it's amazing how much more I enjoy food and life because of it.

So yes, pesto is rich, but it's bursting with flavour, so even a little can go a long way. Made from scratch, it lacks that awful aftertaste the jarred version has. It tastes fresher and richer at the same time. I like using toasted almonds in place of the traditional pine nuts in my pesto - they have a deep, toasty flavour that lends a warmth to the pesto that seems especially perfect with this time of year, when, as my roommate says, "I begin to feel like I will never be warm again."

So go ahead, make pesto, dump in the cheese, drizzle in the oil and feel good about it.
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Shakshuka

2012-10-26T17:41:00.002-04:00

My roommates and I love breakfast, especially when we all get to sit down on the couch together and embark upon marathons of The Office and Arrested Development. Unfortunately, we all have very different schedules, so this does not happen as often as we would like it to (although we are perhaps better off for having less time for tv marathons) but on my days off I love cooking a big breakfast for all of us. It usually ends up being more of a brunch than a breakfast, but we're okay with that.

One of my favourite dishes to break out when I have all that extra time in the morning is shakshuka (also shakshouka), a popular Israeli breakfast dish that is essentially eggs poached in a spicy sauce of tomatoes, onions, chili peppers and cumin. It is...amazing. It's also a meal that's healthy and low-budget.

This is a recipe that makes several servings, perfect for a crowd, but even if you're cooking for just one or two, you can make the sauce ahead of time, then heat up as much as you need in the morning to cook your eggs in, and so have shakshuka for several days. And who doesn't want to repeat shakshuka for breakfast? I know I do. And I think you know that you do, too.
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Chewy Gluten Free Oatmeal Cookies

2012-09-26T08:16:00.000-04:00

I've actually been holding out on you with these cookies. Not because I enjoy being witholding, but because when I made these, it was insanely hot outside and I didn't think telling you to turn on an oven and produce extra heat in your place of living would be much appreciated. Why I did just that in order to make these very cookies, I know not. It was at night and I had a baking craving and when those strike there is nothing you can do but bake it out.

So I turned on the oven and dealt with the consequences. I sweated and ate cookie dough, then I fed people cookies. In the end, I think it worked out alright.

Even so, they did not seem seasonally appropriate, and I held off. But now the leaves are turning, the air is crisper, people are wearing fashionable (and unfashionable) coats, Starbucks is serving pumpkin spice lattes - which all point to one thing: fall is here.

And so now, at long last, I bring you these gluten free oatmeal cookies, because there's just something warm and comforting about an oatmeal cookie that makes it seem best suited for chilly autumn mornings alongside a cup of coffee. And that's as poetic as I'm going to get for this post, so go make some cookies!
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Israeli Inspired Salad

2012-09-05T14:32:00.001-04:00

I'm always talking about how I'm trying to eat more vegetables or even claiming that I am eating more vegetables - it is a continual struggle and alternately a source of pride for me. By which I mean, if I do manage to get an impressive amount of veggies into my diet for a day, or even a week, I feel damn proud. Proud enough that, if I had the tools, I'd make a T-shirt to celebrate: I ATE MY BROCCOLI AND LIKED IT. Printed in big, bold capital letters. It would draw attention to my chest. Which is not the end goal of eating vegetables, but if you wear a shirt with large print on it, this is what happens. I'm going to move on now and pretend that last bit didn't get written.

Right. VEGETABLES. Are awesome. Really, I mean it, even though you'd think from all the whining I do on this subject that I despise them or am working through some kind of phobia. No, this is not true at all - I really do love vegetables, I'm just on such a weird eating schedule all the time that I find it difficult to have vegetable-themed meals, unless I stick them in a smoothie. See, I have this thing about vegetables: they are for lunch and dinner, but never breakfast, unless they're potatoes in the form of hash browns, sweet potatoes or carrots cooked in oatmeal, or spinach in a smoothie. Or omelettes, too. Okay, yes I can eat vegetables in the morning, but I prefer not to. And I definitely can't bring myself to eat crunchy, fresh vegetables first thing - I mean come on, who ever ate a salad for breakfast? If you're eating a salad for breakfast there's something wrong with you.

But lunch and dinner - these are the times for fresh, crunchy vegetables, of which there are so many still around at this time of year, though the time for garden vegetables is fast coming to a close. Alas! But, the days are still hot, the farmers' markets are still open, and so I can still load up on crunchy freshness. I love salads that are full of crunch; they hold up better to dressings and don't get soggy if you store them in the fridge for a few hours or overnight.

The simplicity of this salad is what makes it so wonderful - it highlights the freshness and flavour of the ingredients, which you can switch up according to the season and your own tastes. I like to add chickpeas to bulk it up, but spelt or wheat berries would be a nice addition as well if you want this for a main dish rather than a side.

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Homemade Tahini

2012-08-20T16:05:00.002-04:00

I just got over a week-long cold, and I feel as if I fell into some time wormhole thingamajig, and have only just fallen back into the world. Of course I know only a week has gone by, but I feel as if in my little time-wormhole-space (ie. my room, where I lived burrowed in my bed for 12 - 16 hours a day) months have gone by. Like I just had my own Doctor Who episode, with timeywhimey stuff, but thankfully no murderous vacuum cleaner aliens.

Several times during my spell of sickness, I attempted to write this post and tell people about the wonderful awesomeness that is tahini, which seems to have taken the place of peanut butter in my life - is that even possible? But alas, I was a wretched, whiny creature, and my appetite was so diminished that even writing about food didn't appeal to me. And so I watched a lot of ABC Family television. It seemed like a good choice at the time. Please don't judge me, I was ill.

But I am finally feeling like a human again: I can taste things, I can breathe easily, my face doesn't feel like it weighs fifty pounds, and so I rejoice - with tahini. And to think that at one time I didn't even like tahini! I couldn't get past the bitterness that always seemed to linger on the tongue after tasting it. But then I gave it a few more tries, and now I can't seem to get by without it. It's rich, nutty, and on toast with a little honey, it is absolutely divine.

The thing I love most about tahini, though, is its versatility. It can be used in sweet or savoury dishes and goes well with so many things. Cumin, honey, garlic, parsley, cilantro, and lemon are some of my favourite flavours to pair with it. And tahini isn't just great with a lot of flavours, it's a wonderful addition to all different types of dishes and condiments, like salad dressings, granola bars, hummus, soup, and even egg salad.

So naturally, I wanted to try making my own tahini, and as the preparation is the same as it is with any homemade nut butter, which is easy enough, there was no reason not to give it a go. What I realized, though, was that the tahini sold in the stores is made from hulled sesame seeds, which is why it's so light in colour, and while I love this version of tahini, I wanted to make it with unhulled sesame seeds for the extra nutrients. I am still a health nut, after all.

Tahini made from unhulled sesame seeds is darker in colour and thicker in texture. It won't be runny like the store-bought tahini, but similar in texture to almond butter. It can still be used in recipes like any other kind of tahini, but in some recipes you may find you'll want to add a bit more liquid to compensate for its thickness.

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Fresh Coconut & Strawberry Smoothie

2012-08-10T19:58:00.002-04:00

I feel like I've been posting heavier, more labour-intensive dishes than I usually do, and it's certainly not a reflection of my actual diet (which has lately involved a lot of granola and pb & jam on toast) which is really all about food that's easy and quick to make, especially with it being summer. If I could even remember all the times I've turned on the oven since June, I'm sure I could count them all on my fingers.

My current residence is in the upstairs of a fairly old, creaky building, and while it does have AC, it does not circulate so well in the upper level. The kitchen itself is a very tiny, crowded space, and it heats up pretty easily, so I've been loathe to even cook on the stovetop for much of the summer. There have been days where I've eaten almost nothing but smoothies - you'd think I was living in a geriatric ward, from all the blending I do.

This is not to say I've been completely off solids - I'm not about to relive the experience of infancy through diet. I have been eating lots of salads made up of fresh, crunchy vegetables (well...maybe not "lots", but I am trying to get my veggies in, I swear!), but to be completely honest, many of my meals have been made up of toast, with a generous smearing of peanut butter and jam, or tahini and honey. Delicious and a wonderful accompaniment to my daily cup of coffee, if not the most summery or nutritious snack in the world.

But while my eating schedule and diet may be a little helter skelter, every once in a while I manage to come up with something delightful, refreshing, and nutritious, like this smoothie, made up of fresh coconut water, coconut meat, and strawberries. I honestly had no idea how delicious young coconuts were until I went to an Asian street food festival weeks ago, where they were selling young coconuts, hacking them open right in front of you before handing them over with a spoon and a straw. I didn't actually buy one, but I was able to taste my friend's coconut, and all of a sudden I had an intense craving to buy a gazillion young coconuts and commence with the kitchen experimentation!

When I broke open my first coconut and took a sip of the water inside, I couldn't believe the taste - nutty, sweet, and almost buttery rich, and so refreshing! If ambrosia was a real thing, I swear it would be fresh coconut milk. And when blended with the soft young coconut meat, it becomes a silky smooth, sweet drink that manages to taste buttery rich while also being refreshing. You can enjoy it like that, or add in some frozen fruit, for a tasty and chilling treat to cool you down, as I do here. (Although this now seems poorly timed, given the rain that has currently descended onto Toronto, making soup out of the air and a frizz mess out of my hair.)
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More Scenes from Camp, and Blueberry Peach Pie

2012-08-05T17:38:00.002-04:00

I wrote previously of my visit to my grandpa's camp this past weekend for his 90th birthday - a day he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge, though we do our best to spoil him in spite of his complaints. My grandpa is the most resilient and resolutely independent person I know, and as far as I can remember, he's always disliked anybody making a fuss over him. If he had his own way, he'd live with one plate, one spoon, one fork, one knife, and one cup. Most family visits end with us leaving with more than we came with - at least a third of my dad's wardrobe is made up of "donations" from my grandpa's closet (although to say that my grandpa "donated" the clothes is something of a misrepresentation, as my grandpa's method of "donating" items of any kind is to thrust them at you and say, "Take it! Take it!"). He's determined to get rid of all his worldly goods before his death, but so far my mother's been able to convince him to keep all the dishes and cups in the cupboard.

But for all his efforts to rid himself of all his possessions before dying, my grandpa has never been able to sit in the back seat of life. He can't not have something to do - if he runs out of projects, he invents one. A few summers ago, we arrived at his house (he still lives on his own) to find he had dug up half his front yard. "Levelling" he said.

He's also been a jack-of-all-trades his whole life, so if he doesn't have something to fix or tinker with, I wouldn't be surprised if he broke something just to give himself something to do. Several years ago, my parents' washing machine broke, and my mother called my grandpa to ask his advice - he got so excited that he nearly threatened to drive down just to take a look at it. In the past, my parents have seriously considered making use of his free labour in order to do all the household repairs my dad's never gotten around to doing.

This penchant of my grandpa's for fixing things, however, is something of a mixed blessing. He's like a basset hound when it comes to sniffing out broken or slightly malfunctioning appliances, but sometimes this creates more problems than it fixes. He once decided to use a lawn trimmer to strip paint off a deck. Apparently it worked. At first.

And even when his age does actually catch up to him, he still refuses to give into it. About a month ago, he had a horrible attack of gout, and his feet swelled about four times their size. He was in enormous pain and could barely walk and definitely couldn't drive. So he called a taxi and used a golf club as a cane to walk out to it. I believe my parents have managed to convince him that, in future situations such as these, he should call an ambulance.

But however much my grandpa dislikes us making a fuss over him or giving him presents, he always appreciated gifts and fussing in the form of food - especially sweets. On just about every visit to my grandpa must involve the baking of at least one batch of his favourite peanut butter cookies, and in addition to his usual gift of cookies this year, I was determined to bake a pie. It is summer, after all, and fruit is in abundance - it would have been a crime not to make a pie.

And so I made a blueberry peach pie, which my grandpa happily consumed for dessert with a scoop of freshly whipped cream, and again the next day. For lunch.

So here it is for you to go bake and devour. For dessert, or even lunch, if you so desire.
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Scenes of Camp and a Recipe for Potatoes

2012-08-02T22:34:00.005-04:00

This past weekend I spent at my grandfather's camp (what southern Ontarians refer to as a "cottage" I believe) for his 90th birthday. Traditionally, the whole family gathers in Thunder Bay for my grandpa's birthday - which he is always loathe to celebrate. "Bah - it's just another day!" he insists every time. But of course he always happily receives his birthday cake, heaped high with berries and whipped cream (his favourite).

And during any of my family shindigs there is always, always lots of food involved. Cheese, chips, homemade bread, and trail mix abound throughout the house, there are barbecue dinners, vegetable dishes from the garden, and dessert - every night there must be dessert. Naturally, I am not one to protest such indulgence.

There's a different rhythm to life at camp. There's no internet or phone, and such bad cell phone reception that it might as well not exist. Usually such a lack of modern conveniences would drive me absolutely batshit crazy, but at camp their absence somehow doesn't bother me. The days seem slower, more relaxed, in spite of Sergeant Tibbs' 6:30 a.m. wake-up yowl (the most pathetic and hilarious noise you ever heard a cat make). Baths are taken in the lake - there's something so utterly delightful about diving into a fresh water lake first thing in the morning, surrounding yourself in a pool of (biodegradable) suds. Water for drinking and washing fruits and vegetables is brought in from town (the water at the camp comes straight from the lake), and the water for dishwashing is boiled in a huge pot on the stove. These things are just inconvenient enough to make life at camp interesting rather than frustrating - we're hardly "roughing it" in the woods, but there is something satisfying in feeling at least somewhat removed from the rest of the world.

But back to the food. Naturally.

Years ago, on a family car trip, we camped on a ridiculously windy, pebbled beach, my dad and brother sliced up some potatoes, stuffed slices of butter and onions between them, wrapped them up in foil, and cooked them on the barbecue. They were delicious, and the dish has become a standard way of cooking potatoes in my house, and so of course my dad had to make it for grandpa's birthday dinner. It's such a simple dish - but honestly, you can't really go wrong with butter, onions, and potatoes.
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Egg Salad, My Way

2012-07-26T11:26:00.000-04:00

I used to think egg salad was grotesque. The texture, the smell, the sound of it - I couldn't stand it. As far as I was concerned, it was an egg mixture that had been mayonnaised to death. When I worked in a restaurant, making egg salad sandwiches to order was one of my most loathed tasks. I handled it as if it were poisonous; getting any of it on my hands was enough to almost to send me into a girly fit of "EW EW OHMYGOD GETITOFF GETITOFF!" Thankfully, I always resisted that urge. There was my dignity to consider, after all. And I always want to slap anyone who runs around screaming in such a ridiculous manner - unless there happens to be a spider involved. Although were I involved in such a situation, I would probably be yelling things too inappropriate to quote here.

But here I am, posting about egg salad. How did this happen?

Well, hunger happened. In the Montreal airport, where you can either buy a fruit cup from Starbucks for the price of your soul or purchase a caesar salad at the bar joint for twenty dollars, and it will be so measly sized that you might as well be feeding a gerbil on a diet.

The only decently priced place to buy food from in that airport is Tim Hortons, but at this aforementioned time, a bagel didn't seem like it would quite cut it. I was starving, and I wasn't in the mood to eat a 20-pack of Timbits. So I took the plunge and ordered the egg salad - how bad could it be anyways? I like eggs. I don't dislike mayonnaise, as long as it's used within reason. I like bread. So I ate it.

And I did not die. And while I was not transformed into a raving fan (at least of Tim's egg salad - there was a hint of horseradish in it that I did not appreciate) I could suddenly see the potential of the dish.

So I began making egg salad sandwiches, only I used yogurt instead of mayonnaise. It was a quick and convenient thing to make for lunch, and I appreciated its total lack of fussiness. However, a day came when I was running late and making lunch in a rush, and realized I had no yogurt and my egg salad was not going to hold together and I had to get going - I mean really get my ass out of the door already - and god dang it all I was going to be left with mashed eggs and bread for lunch.

But then genius struck - tahini! It's creamy, nutty, delicious, but most importantly, it would save my egg salad from failure. Then I remembered I had fresh parsley in the fridge, and voila, I had very unintentionally created my favourite egg salad. And so here it is, egg salad, done my way.
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Strawberry Lime Smoothie

2012-07-13T13:11:00.002-04:00

I've probably already whined enough about the summer heat, which is (at least for me) fairly intense here in Toronto. Of course, I could be in Cambodia or India, where I am convinced I would not survive. It would be a horrifying re-enactment of the Wicked Witch of the West's death, and while that's an entertaining enough scene in Technicolor, nobody wants to see that in real life.

Which is why smoothies like this become so important during this time of year. They're nutritional, delicious, and cooling. I am not a seasonal smoothie consumer (I eat them on a near daily basis, all year round), so in cooler months I often have to don a sweater whilst eating them. They literally make me shiver with cold - which is what makes them perfect for this time of year, because instead of bringing you to the brink of pneumonia, they cool you down to a temperature that feels livable.

The lime in this smoothie is especially refreshing - there's just something about citrus that feels like summer, but in a way that's bright and zingy, not droopy and sweaty (which is how I feel most of the time throughout July and August). I've been putting lime in just about everything lately - water, salad dressings...alcoholic beverages. Just try adding a squeeze or two of lime juice to your bottle of water - it's amazing how much more refreshing it is with that bitter, citrusy kick.

But I should probably stop my lime speech before I break into "Put the lime in the coconut and drink it -"

Oops. Too late. Although, that does sound like a fantastic idea. I will put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up. Thank you pop culture!

But in the meantime, have a smoothie.
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Wordless Wednesday: Pride Parade 2012

2012-07-11T14:46:00.000-04:00

This is a bit late, but hey, it's never too late to stop celebrating the awesomeness of Pride!

Carrot & Brown Rice Bowl with Cumin Yogurt Dressing

2012-07-06T17:51:00.004-04:00

Ah, summer. The time of the year to sit and drink sangria on patios, wear gigantic floppy hats, splurge on cute summer dresses, and spend days at the beach, burying your friends in sand and giving them sand breasts. (Don't pretend like you're too mature to not find giving your guy friends sand breasts funny.)

It is also, however, the time of year when people like to walk around the streets topless (and while I admire their comfortableness with their own bodies and disregard for societal norms, I do not always admire their physique), the action of blinking induces a sweat, and the night life heats up so that random drunk people are more likely to wander onto your porch at 1 am and try and watch Aladdin with you. (Because don't we all watch cartoons on the porch late at night?)

So I mentioned the heat, right? And yes, I am going to be so mundane as to whine about the weather. I'm like a lizard - both heat and cold effect me with equally unpleasant results. Heat and humidity cause me to melt into a puddle of sweat and unpleasantness. Even doing awesome things, like watching the Pride Parade, do little to minimize the intense discomfort and major awkwardness of feeling sweat run down your legs. My friend, who had the misfortune to attend said parade with me, was subjected to what I admit was a rather explicit commentary on the state of my bodily affairs.

I will be the first to admit it: I do not cope well with the heat. I stick to the shady sides of the street, I run only when I have to or if it is late at night or early enough in the morning to not risk heat stroke or death by doing so, frequently run my hands and arms under cold water, and sometimes I even take a bag of ice with me to bed. And I certainly won't turn the oven on if I don't have to. So, cookies and cake in the summertime? Not so much, unless I'm feeling particularly masochistic.

And that's how meals like this happen. I'm hot, tired, have a dwindling supply of food in the fridge, and I'm in no mood to trek anywhere to buy any more produce or ingredient of any kind, so I make use of what I have. And sometimes it turns out to be not too shabby, and even worth sharing.
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