I love to bake my own bread, grind my own flour and knead my own dough by hand. The more hands on the process, the better, as far as I am concerned. There is something so elemental about baking bread, so peaceful and life giving. Did you know that in ancient Egypt bread was a form of currency? They had their priorities straight!

About a year ago I read Sally Fallon’s controversial book, called Nourishing Traditions. In a nutshell, she explains the science behind why Grandma knew best, or perhaps, Great Grandma. That techniques used before the Industrial Revolution were far superior nutrition-wise; nowadays the processed food most of us eat is damaging to our health. She talks about bread and cooking with whole grain. We all know that whole grain is better. But did you know that it is far better to soak your whole grain overnight before starting to assemble your dough? For those who are curious about the why, read on. Otherwise, skip the history and science lesson and let’s make some bread.

On grains and soaking
Grains, albeit in smaller quantities, have been a part of our diet for a very long time. There is evidence that our hunter gatherer ancestors were foraging for grain as early as 19,000 years ago. Rice grew in the hot, humid parts of the world, wheat and oats in the temperate areas, maize in the New World and barley and rye where it was cold. These wild grains were ground, parched on hot rocks and heated in the fire to remove their husks.

A whole grain is made of a germ, bran and endosperm. White flour is predominantly endosperm. According to A History of Food, along with scrubbing our modern white flour of its germ, we’ve also lost 75% of the mineral salts, 35% of fat, 10% of protein, 50% of vitamin E and 75% of vitamin B. When we removed the bran, which contains all of the fiber in the grain, we also wound up engineering a carbohydrate that can be digested quickly with up to 90% assimilation. While this sounds all well and good, our digestion is not suited for these simple sugar spikes. Fiber keeps our digestion healthy; it adds bulk and serves as fodder for the good bacteria in our intestines. White flour, lacking any fiber, has been linked to all sorts of diseases.

While those of us who eat whole grains would like to think that the “white stuff” is mostly a modern invention, we’ve been debating flour colors for a long time. People have been sifting flour as far back as Egyptian times, and grading it both on texture and color. Many cultures valued white, fine flour over the coarser brown kind. Until the end of the second century BCE, and the rise of master Greek bakers, grinding grain was done in the home. With the introduction of mills, people no longer needed to grind their own grain. However, whole grains were never as removed from the general population as they are today. While mills had been around for a few centuries, it was not until the Industrial Revolution that we engineered a grain which could stay on the shelf without going rancid but by removing the fatty germ (and most of the bran). And white bread was born.

These days, it has become common knowledge that whole grains are healthier than refined white flour. But just switching to whole grains isn’t enough. Whole grains, legumes and nuts contain phytate (the salt form of phytic acid, the principal storage of phosphorus) and enzyme inhibitors, both considered anti-nutrients. Phytate binds with iron, zinc, and to a lesser extent calcium and magnesium in the body and prevents their absorption. So not only can we not readily absorb the phosphorus in whole grains, by consuming them our body can also be robbed of other important minerals.

Many of what we consider anti-nutrients are simply a plant’s natural defenses to protect its seeds from being eaten or from sprouting when conditions aren’t optimal. Plants generally need warmth, a slightly acidic environment, moisture and some time to sprout. Of course animals, like ourselves, are drawn to fatty, starchy grains; just as the germ of grains have everything the baby plant needs to survive, it also has many beneficial nutrients for humans.

As Sally Fallon points out, ruminants are primed for digesting tough plants. In addition to having four stomachs to our one and longer intestinal tracts they, unlike us, have the enzyme phytase in their guts which allows them to break down phytate and release phosphorus for absorption. Not to mention the fact that they stand around most of the day chewing their cud.

So how do we reduce the amount of phytic acid while increasing the amount of whole foods in our diet? We do what people have been doing for ages: we soak our grain in an acidulated solution for 12 to 24 hours. Fermenting and sprouting are also excellent ways to make grains more digestible.

Before the introduction of modern instant yeasts and the onset of our quickbread mania, we soaked and fermented grains. In the pre-industrialized world people had a greater respect and connection with their grains. Over millennia of trial and error, people organically developed techniques that made the most of grains. In Europe and the Americas we used sourdough and other starters to make breads; in India idlis and dosas were made of fermented rice and lentils; in Mexico corn was soaked in many preparations.

Using warm, slightly acidulated water activates phytase (the enzymes which breaks down phytate), thus neutralizing phytic acid. It also activates certain enzymes (by deactivating their inhibitors) which go to work breaking down hard-to-digest proteins, like gluten, for easier assimilation and also increasing important vitamins (especially B vitamins). This acid can come from foods like kefir, buttermilk, yogurt, whey or lemon juice.

That said, you should also know that phytate has antioxidant properties, and, like every other antioxidant at one point, has been placed on the list as a chemical for cancer prevention. It has been known to reduce oxidative stress on the digestive tract, have anti-inflammatory affects and slow blood glucose. So when it comes to food and science, it’s important to seek balance and not simplify foods or chemicals into terms such as “good” or “evil.” Too much phytic acid can cause mineral depletion but some is OK.

Suffice to say, soaked grain is more digestible and, in a yeast bread, it responds more like white flour, making a higher, lighter, more tender loaf than you would have thought possible with totally whole grain.

A word about yeast
Recently I have been reading The Bread Baker’s Apprentice by Peter Reinhart. He was not only a professional baker for many years but he now teaches bread baking at Johnson & Wales University. His book is a treatise on bread. I have learned so much more about the science behind the art of bread making. For the longest time, I have been buying instant yeast from King Arthur’s Flour. There are 2 types, SAF Gold and SAF Red. I already knew Gold was used for the heavier breads that contain eggs, raisins, sugar, etc. and Red for normal, everyday bread. What I discovered from Peter Reinhart was that the Gold is a different strain of yeast, called osmotolerant, grown specifically for use in breads that are very acidic or sweet. For this recipe, because of the eggs and raisins, I used Gold.

A Word about whey
Whey is what is leftover from milk or cream when you separate the curds while making cheese or butter. We use two tablespoons whey per loaf of bread when we are soaking grain to make the batter slightly acidulated. You could also use buttermilk, kefir, yogurt or lemon juice. Keep in mind, though, that lemon juice won’t have the added benefit of all that good bacteria.

Enough about all these technicalities, let’s make some bread.

Spelt Raisin Bread Makes 2 5 x 9 loaves
Ingredients
1 cup raisins
6 cups whole spelt flour
1 1/2 cups cold water
1/4 cup whey
5 teaspoons SAF Gold Instant Yeast (If using active dry yeast use 2 packets)
4 tablespoons ghee
2 large eggs
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon salt
1 cup pecans, toasted and coarsely chopped
3 – 3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

Note: all the above ingredients were organic

Soak the raisins. In a large glass or ceramic bowl, add the raisins and the water. Let soak for 15 minutes.

Soak the grain. Add the spelt flour and whey to the raisins and water. Mix well until thoroughly combined. Put a plate on top of the bowl and let it soak overnight.

Make the dough. Next day, mix in all the remaining ingredients except the whole wheat flour. Stir well until thoroughly combined. Stir in 1 cup of whole wheat. Add more whole wheat until it is hard to stir. Turn out on a board floured heavily with more of your whole wheat. I use a bench knife in the beginning to turn in some of the flour. Then when I have incorporated enough so I can handle it I start kneading with my hands until the tough is slightly tacky, not sticky, 8 – 10 minutes.

Let the dough rise. Grease a large bowl with ghee or butter. Roll you dough around in the bowl to get a thin film of the fat. Cover with a damp dish towel and let rise until doubled, about 2 hours.

Form the loaves. Gently squeeze the dough to remove the air and divide in half. Shape each life into a log. Place in 2 greased 5 x 9 inch loaf pans. Cover with a damp kitchen towel and let rise until crested over the top of the pan by 1 1/2 to 2 inches, about 1 1/2 hours. In the last 15 minutes of this second rise preheat the oven to 375 F.

Bake the bread. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes until an instant read thermometer registers 190 F or until you thump the loaf on the bottom and it feels a little hollow. I usually turn the loaves after 25 minutes for even browning.

Cool and store. Remove to a wire rack. You can paint the top of the loaf with ghee or butter. Let the loaves cool completely before storing. I wrap one in wax paper and then aluminum foil and freeze. The other I keep on the counter in a bread box. This bread makes wonderful sandwiches and great toast.

I had invited Priscilla for her birthday, but I was a little cooked out and couldn’t come up with anything to make. I started dreaming about the ingredients I knew she’d love – a stew of shrimp, chicken and sausage kept popping into my mind and making me hungry. So I considered what would go well with this rather unconventional trio. The cuisine of the seafaring Portuguese and hearty southern stews seemed apropro, as did capers, some wine and of course my herbs. I wanted this stew to be hearty and full with some heat from Italian sausage, a hint of sea brine, and those perfectly pink shrimp and deep brown chicken thighs.

I tried to think of a fancy birthday-sounding name for this stew, I really did, but the above is all I could come up with. Maybe simplicity is best. If you think of something better, please let me know. We ladled it out to seven happy dinner companions. There were absolutely no leftovers; it was uniformly loved. This stew is hearty and zesty but also surprisingly light due to a combination of fat skimming and opting for red and white pearls of quinoa instead of brown rice.

We simmered the quinoa in homemade chicken stock and seasoned it with lemon zest and toasted pistachios. Quinoa is not something I cook often, but Anjuli had some left over from her adventures in the woods. Where rice would have been somewhat heavy, dry and sticky, the quinoa was bouncy and light. It added its own toasty flavor and soaked up all that good stock without becoming weighted down.

Alongside our stew Ramani made some sauteed greens and chard, but any kind of greens or salad would work just as well. Lemon zest and greens help to digest the fat in the stew, and the fat also compliments the greens by insulating all those fat-soluble vitamins. This stew may look like quite a few ingredients, but it all comes together fairly quickly with very short cooking times for each protein. So eat up and enjoy. Happy Birthday Priscilla!

Note about shrimp: It is a good idea to buy your shrimp raw for two reasons. One, you will have the peel with which to make an instant, flavorful stock and two, you will ensure that the shrimp will not be overcooked. We, in the US, generally overcook this delightful seafood turning it to pink rubber. It only takes a couple of minutes to turn it pink and opaque and extremely tender.

Note about sausage: If you saute the sausage whole and then let it rest for 5 minutes before cutting it into coins, you will allow it to reabsorb those marvelous juices. Just like cooking a steak. This gives your sausage a wonderful tender texture and imparts a lot of flavor into the broth of the stew.

Weezie’s Spicy Shrimp, Sausage & Chicken Stew Serves 6 – 8
Ingredients
1 pound raw shrimp, 35 – 40 count
3 sprigs dried tarragon
2 teaspoons of thyme
4 sweet Italian sausages
1 hot Italian sausage
5 tablespoons olive oil
10 chicken thighs
1 Vidalia onion, 1/4 inch dice
3 cups chopped celery, 1/2 inch dice
1/2 cup minced flat leaf parsley
10 cloves garlic, sliced
1 1/3 cups wine, white or red
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons Portuguese powder from Matt’s mom, or sweet smoky paprika
1 1/2 tablespoons capers packed in salt, rinsed and minced
1 cup shrimp stock
1/2 cup chicken stock, homemade
30 grinds black pepper

Marinate the shrimp. Peel the shrimp. Add one teaspoon coarse salt. Let sit overnight if you have time. Next day peel the shrimp, (Save the peels.) rinse and marinate with 2 tablespoons olive oil, 3 cloves sliced garlic and 1 teaspoon salt. Refrigerate until needed.

Make stock of shrimp peel. Put the peels in a small pot. Fill the pot 2/3 with water. Add 1/2 cup white wine, a stalk of celery, thyme, tarragon, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 10 grinds of pepper. Simmer for 1 1/4 hours and strain. Set the stock aside and discard the rest.

Cook the sausage. Heat a dutch oven or large frying pan to medium low. Add 1 tablespoons of olive oil. Add the sausage and cook until done, about 15 minutes, turning frequently to ensure even browning. Turn pan off. Remove the sausages to a plate lined with paper towels. Let drain and cool for 5 minutes then cut into coins.

Brown the chicken. Put the pan back on the heat to medium low. Brown the chicken in the remaining fat in the frying pan, about 4 minutes on a side, until golden brown. Remove to a plate lined with paper towels. Drain the remaining fat from the pan.

Brown the vegetables. Heat the dutch oven back to medium low. Add 2 tablespoons olive oil. Add onions and celery. Saute for 5 minutes. Add garlic. Saute for 2 minutes.

Cook the stew. Add the chicken and 1/4 cup parsley, 1/2 cup of white and/or red wine, Portuguese chili powder or paprika, capers and shrimp stock and 10 grinds of black pepper. Simmer for 30 minutes, until the chicken is tender. Add the sausage. Simmer for 10 more minutes. Turn off heat and let sit until almost ready to serve. Skim off the fat. 10 minutes before ready to serve, bring the stew back to simmer. Add the shrimp and remaining parsley and simmer only long enough for the shrimp to turn pink and opaque, 2 – 3 minutes. Serve.

Variation
You could add a yellow pepper or 3 frying peppers, cut in 1/2 inch dice in season when you add the onion and celery.

Quinoa with Toasted Pistachios and Lemon Zest
Originally from Peru, quinoa is the highest protein grain at 19% and packs a lot of flavor. It’s also very easy to cook. We dressed it up with chicken stock, lemon zest, pistachio and parsley for this dish, but you could simply cook quinoa in water with some salt. You’d soak and rinse it then add it to your pot with a 2:1 ratio water to quinoa, some salt (1/2 teaspoon per cup quinoa) and simmer it for 20 minutes, lid cocked. Then let it sit, covered, until you’re ready to eat.

Ingredients
3 cups quinoa, we prefer red
3 cups homemade chicken stock
3 cups water
1 teaspoon salt
Zest of 2 lemons
1/4 cup minced flat leaf Italian parsley
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup chopped, toasted pistachios

Soak the quinoa. Put the quinoa in a bowl and cover it with water. Let sit 10 minutes.

Cook the qunioa. Drain the quinoa through a small sieve or scoop it out. Add the soaked quinoa (see notes below) to a medium saucepan with water, stock, salt, lemon zest, pepper and parsley. Bring to a boil, turn down to simmer, put on a cocked lid and cook for 20 minutes until almost all the liquid is absorbed and the little golden tendrils on the quinoa have started to separate from the grain. It should be tender, not chewy. Turn off the heat, add the pistachios and stir to combine. Put on the lid and let sit for at least 10 minutes before serving.

Note: If you’re in a rush you don’t have so soak it, but it may take a few minutes more to cook. Do make sure you rinse it to remove any dirt before putting it into the pan.

Anjuli, poor girl, has, of all things, pneumonia. She and Matt have been staying in Connecticut while they get ready for their travels. They’re going to be outside of the US for a while, so their planning and packing involves millions of little details. The last thing Anjuli needed was to come down with pneumonia. I wanted to make something that would lift her spirits in this never-ending winter. It was Valentine’s Day, so I thought she would love it if I made some nut brittle and backed it with chocolate.

It was early morning and I was still lying in bed imagining this brittle. I wanted to sneak into the kitchen and make my candy before anyone else was stirring. I did not want to go shopping. I had just received a shipment from one of my favorite online stores that imports products from Spain called La Tienda. The shipment included olive oils, smoky sweet paprika and a bottle of capers packed in sea salt, but also a good supply of Marcona almonds that would go so elegantly with dark chocolate. I knew I had plenty of sesame seeds. Anjuli and I both adore their rich, warm nutty flavor. Pecans are a natural with chocolate and I had a bag in the freezer. Chocolate, what about the chocolate? I remembered those artisanal Mexican chocolate disks from Taza Chocolate that Anjuli had given me for Christmas. Each one was laced with cinnamon or almond or something as exotic as guajillo chiles. I had been waiting for an occasion such as this to use them. I hopped out of bed feeling peaceful and excited, knowing that I had what I needed.

Just as everyone was stirring and sniffing and wondering what delicious things were happening in the kitchen I was pouring the thick, sweet candy layer onto my nuts and chocolate. Then I snuck the whole cookie sheet in the freezer until the chocolate was hard and I could easily break it up into pieces. I carried up a box to Anjuli and we all had some. This brittle has all the crunch and butteriness of the candy backed by rich, creamy chocolate and studded with salty nuts. It has a good snap but it also gives way when you bite in and doesn’t break your teeth. Spirits were lifted and we all felt a little snappy. I hope you do too…

Nut brittle with bittersweet chocolate (all ingredients were organic) Makes about 24 1″x2″ squares
1 pound bittersweet chocolate of your choice (I used Taza Chocolate)
1/2 cup toasted sesame seeds
2 cups toasted pecans
1 cup toasted Marcona almonds
6 tablespoons maple syrup
1 1/2 cups raw sugar
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter
1 1/2 tablespoons cider vinegar
3 tablespoons water
3/4 teaspoon coarse salt

Note: The nuts and seeds I toasted in a dry frying pan set to medium low until they started to change color. I toasted the seeds separately from the nuts.

Make the chocolate and nuts. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper letting it hang over the ends a bit. Melt the chocolate completely in a double boiler or in a bowl set in a frying pan of simmering water. Remove from the heat and stir to make sure it is all melted. Spread the chocolate on the parchment paper covering the entire surface of the cookie sheet. Sprinkle with coarse salt. Sprinkle with the seeds and the nuts.

Make the candy. Combine the maple syrup, sugar, butter, vinegar and water in a 3–quart heavy pot over medium low, stirring occasionally as it melts and comes to a boil. Once it is boiling, cover it and let it boil for 2 – 3 minutes. Then uncover the pan and wash down the sides of the pan with a brush dipped in cold water. Let it continue to boil slowly over moderate heat without stirring for 20 to 30 minutes until it reaches the hard crack stage (290°F). If it threatens to smoke then stir it without touching the sides of the pan. Pour and spread the candy over the nuts as thin as you can.

Cool, freeze and break. Let it cool on a wire rack. Once it was cool I stuck the whole cookie sheet in the freezer for about 15 minutes until the chocolate got good and hard. Then I broke it in pieces and stored it in an airtight container.

Meatballs in my family make their own meal. They’re palm-sized and ever so tender nestled in tomato sauce with rarely a carb in sight. You could bake them in the oven – yea you could – but we like them simmered until they are just barely held together. Mom recently bought half a whole hog which she split with her good friend Priscilla who lives up the road. They’ll be cooking everything save a few offal, including the head, which are illegal to ship outside state lines. She’s still waiting on the cured bits, but ground pork, raw sausage and chops have graced our table in the last few weeks. It’s damn good pork, out of a small farm in Maine. Today we broke out the ground pork and some grass fed beef.

A bowl appeared and in went oregano, some nutmeg, cinnamon, a little fennel, some sweet smoky paprika from Spain, garlic, minced fresh cilantro (I know it sounds weird but just try it, Ok?), a few good eggs and wine from an opened bottle of Montepulciano. As we massaged the meat with the herbs and spices I tried to recall the last time I’ve had meatballs. I still can’t and I don’t know why.

Lately we have been poked and prodded, pricked and sized at every conceivable doctor and specialist’s office to make sure all our parts are in working order for our travels. We’re headed to Peru in under a month. And in addition to wearing ugly cotton gowns we’ve been packing and researching and getting our kit together. Meatballs, unlike spreadsheets, are wonderfully imperfect circles. Naturally, they’re a good complement to regimented tasks. Hearty meatballs, big or small, also go well with new adventures and snowed in afternoons. They are perfect served up to old friends and equally so as offerings to new ones. As it so happens, meatballs also pair well with these gramps shades that Matt picked up at the optometrist. Meatballs are plump little gifts from the food gods. So find some meat to savor and serve ‘em up for all to enjoy.

Meatballs
2 1/2 lbs of beef and/or pork, preferably Organic and/or free range
1/2 vidalia or other sweet, large onion, 1/4″ diced
1 1/2 cups garlic herb bread crumbs (see below)
1 1/2 teaspoons fennel seed
1 teaspoon smoky paprika
1 tablespoon dried oregano, crushed
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup lightly packed cilantro or flat leaf parsley leaves, minced
10 grinds black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
3 eggs, beaten
1/2 cup good dry red wine
1 quart tomato sauce (see below

Break up the beef and/or pork with your fingers in a large bowl. Add the breadcrumbs, along with all other ingredients except the eggs and wine. Mix together with your hands or a fork. Add the eggs and mix thoroughly. Add the wine and mix until moist but not wet. Grab a good handful of the mixture and form into a ball, rolling around in your hands and pressing gently. Place on a plate or baking sheet. Repeat.

Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan on medium. Once hot, lower the meatballs gently into the pan. Pan sear for 5 minutes then turn over gently, one at a time and sear another five minutes. Meanwhile, get the tomato sauce ready on medium low in a dutch oven or large pan with lid. Add the meatballs and cover each with some of the sauce. Simmer on low to medium low, covered, for 20 minutes. Remove from heat and serve.

Tomato sauce
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 vidalia or other sweet, large onion, 1/2″ diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 carrot, washed, peeled and grated
1 1/2 teaspoons fennel seed
1 teaspoon dried thyme, crushed
1 tablespoon dried oregano, crushed
10 grinds fresh black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
2 cans 28 oz whole peeled tomatoes, squashed with your hands in a bowl and stems removed
1 1/2 tablespoons capers, preferably packed in salt, rinsed and chopped
1/2 teaspoon chili powder (optional)

Heat the olive oil on medium in a large pot. Once hot, add the onion and saute until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and carrot and saute a few minutes more. Add the fennel seed, thyme and oregano and saute a few minutes more. Add the tomatoes, 1 teaspoon salt and black pepper. Bring up boil and turn down to simmer for 30 minutes. Add the chili pepper. Taste. Adjust seasonings. Remove from heat or transfer to a dutch oven (or large pan) to saute meatballs.

Herbed bread crumbs
2 cups good sourdough, cubed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon dried oregano, crushed
10 grinds black pepper

Preheat oven to 325F. Toss the bread in the olive oil and bake in the oven 10 minutes. Meanwhile, mix the garlic with the salt, pepper and oregano in a large bowl. Remove the bread from the oven, toss in with the garlic oregano mix and dump back out on the cookie sheet. Bake another 10 minutes, until mostly dried out. Transfer the cubed bread and garlic oregano mix to a blender. Grind or chop until the size of breadcrumbs, making sure to stir for even grit.

In the words of my father, “Darlin’, you really went to town on lunch.” Well, not exactly. What he was referring to was our lunch today of mushroom barely and chicken soup with focaccia. The focaccia was made last night by Matt in a baking frenzy – or as much as rolling out pizza dough and topping it with rosemary and goat cheese and little slivers of onions can be considered a sudden impulse. Yet focaccia does lend itself to a certain spontaneity and resulting crusty satisfaction. And we had mom’s post fresh in our heads to fuel the fire. While the dough was being rolled I stuffed a chicken in a pot, covered it in water and made the fixings of a good stock. After an hour or so of ever so carefully simmering the contents – which on mom’s stove requires a ton of finagling of knobs and peeking under the cocked lid to make sure the bloop, bloop is constant – we took the chicken out. I had started to feel the kind of crappy where your head is stuffed with foam and your kidneys hurt and you just want to lay on the floor in the kitchen and moan. So I lay there, perfectly useless, while Matt pulled apart the steaming chicken with a fork and a thumb. I did emerge a few times to pull dark chicken meat from the bowl and pop it in my mouth. I think boiled chicken may still rival the roasted kind in my book. Then we threw the bones back in and continued to barely simmer the stock, for what was supposed to be two more hours. At this point you’re aiming to get all the gelatin out of the bones. Well, unsurprisingly, we fell asleep somewhere in there and woke up at 2am to find the stock had been going strong for three long hours. It was down to about 2 inches in the pot including bones and vegetables and such. Ooops. It smelled divine, but we effectively had the essence of chicken stock, boiled down to very little. Matt strained it while I wobbled around, brushing my teeth, thinking about stock and getting into bed.

Recently I have been reading up on Thomas Keller’s stock technique. Chicken stock, in its simplest form is where you take chicken – parts or whole and hopefully with feet! – and simmer it slowly in water, some salt, a splash of wine and some aromatics. The acidity in the wine helps break things down and extract the minerals and other nutrients. Ideally you want to leave the bones in until you remove all the gelatin. After 3-4 hours you have a delicious and aromatic stock that, once cooled, will be good and gelatinous.

Keller, and restaurant chefs like him, enjoy the word “refined” immensely. Keller calls for bringing chicken feet and backs to a simmer very slowly in a large pot, skimming, skimming, skimming to keep it all crystal clear. Then he asks you to dump in a ton of ice, skim the fat, bring it back up to a simmer and add in the aromatics (chopped vegetables – mirepoix – and herbs). Then skim, skim, skim and simmer for half an hour or so, turn off the heat and let things settle. Then he asks you to strain the stock, dump the residue and cool it quickly in an ice bath. And voila, you have stock so clean and clear you could take a bath in it. Needless to say, what we made was not a Keller-esque stock. However, when we opened it up today it jiggled like a schoolgirl and had a thick, creamy fat on top that I am most definitely rendering. So let’s just say there are different approaches to chicken stock.

And, so you’re not all holding your breath, I did not make the below soup with my concentrated stock. I used a stock we made a couple of weeks ago and stored in the fridge, which is a perfectly good thing to do. I hope I haven’t completely disappointed you. I promise to post the outcome of that escapade when it happens. However, making stock and feeling sh*tty was exaclty what inspired the mushroom barely soup. Let me say this: mushroom barely soup, especially with chicken, is probably my favorite soup. Which is probably my favorite category of food. But it doesn’t work with store bought stock. Let me repeat: it is a travesty of a soup with store bought stock. This is nothing against you or Swanson. It’s just plain simple: if you want to make a soup that’s nourishing and flavorful, you have to make your own stock. I wouldn’t be feeling as good as I am, 24 hours later, if it weren’t for that little 4lb bird we boiled yesterday.

Now let’s talk about mushroom barely soup. You take onions, garlic, carrots, celery and shiitake and you saute ‘em in olive oil. You sweat ‘em a little until they’re juices are running out into the pot. Things should be smelling good right about now. Then you grind in some pepper and splash in some marsala or wine to get things steamy and the perfume of it all wafts into your face. You add in some herb and drown everything in stock and water. Then in go the pearl barley like little shells, cooking until they plump up. In goes the shredded chicken – and this time some chopped kale. You simmer for 10 minutes more and then you serve it, piping hot, with a bit of focaccia. The soup seeps into your pours, fills your belly and leaves you feeling alive and whole again. At least that’s what happens when my bowl is clean.

So now that we’ve discussed the finer points of chicken stock and my favorite soup, why don’t we get on to making some, shall we? Or find out how to make your own stock. It requires little more than some kitchen scraps and a whole Organic/local chicken (which you can get for around $10-$15 at your local store.)

Mushroom Barley and Chicken Soup Makes 3 quarts
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 large onion, 1/2″ dice
3 cloves garlic, sliced
3 carrots, washed, peeled, sliced lengthwise and then into 1/2″ half moons on the bias
3 celery stalks, sliced
15 shiitake, wiped clean, stems removed and tops sliced
1/4 cup marsala wine (you can also use a dry, white wine)
1 tablespoon dried thyme, crushed
2 quarts homemade chicken stock, at room temp
8 cups water
1 1/2 cups pearled barley
About 2 teaspoons salt, depending on your stock
20 fresh grinds of black pepper
1 1/2 cups cooked chicken, pulled apart (from boiling a chicken and making stock)
1 bunch kale, washed, chiffonade and chopped (1″ pieces)
2 sprigs rosemary, minced
1 teaspoon dried oregano, crushed

Heat the oil in a soup pot on medium high. Once hot, add the onions, garlic, carrots, celery and shiitake. Saute until starting to soften, about 10 minutes. Add in the marsala or wine. Cook down for a couple minutes. Add in 1/2 of the thyme, some grinds of black pepper and cook 1 minute. Add the stock and water and bring up to a simmer. Salt. Add in the barley and cook 15 minutes, until softening. Add in the chicken, kale, oregano and rosemary. Taste and adjust seasonings. Cook 10 minutes more until the kale and barely are tender. If it’s too thick, add more water. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve!

If I want something impromptu that I can whip up from start to finish in one hour and still call it homemade bread, something I can offer for lunch to dress up a homemade soup, for example, expecting each and every time I make it to hear oooooh, I make focaccia. I make it with my pizza dough, paint it with olive oil, sprinkle it with minced garlic, rosemary and coarse salt and voila, in six minutes at 500F I have a crusty masterpiece.

Generally we think of focaccia as it is offered in many restaurants – somewhat thick and spongy and full of olive oil, yes? Well, there is another kind, it is thin and crusty. That is what I make. Most of my inspiration comes from a little book I bought in the 80ties called The Pizza Book by Evelyne Slomon. The dough for pizza and focaccia is the same. Sometimes it is baked in a pan but I bake mine like pizza on tiles. After the olive oil I put simple things on top like garlic and rosemary with or without black olives. I might make one with fig spread and goat cheese. Once you can make this focaccia, it is simple to make pizza, you just need the sauce, cheese and topping. You will have already mastered the dough!

Focaccia Makes 2 14″ pies

Ingredients
1 cup warm tap water (110 – 115F)
1 tablespoon instant yeast
1 cup whole wheat flour
2 – 2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup olive oil

2 tablespoons olive oil in a small bowl for painting pies
2 tablespoons garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fresh rosemary, coarsely chopped
Coarse salt for sprinkling on the dough, 1/2 – 1 teaspoon per focaccia
1 pizza paddle or cookie sheet (back), sprinkled with cornmeal
1 pastry brush
1 long-handled spatula (if you don’t have a paddle)
Pizza cutter or sharp knife

Note on tiles and stones: To get the best from your dough you need to bake it in a hot oven on a pizza stone or quarry tiles. The tiles can be purchased from Home Depot; I buy a full box that does just 2 racks. Just fit them on one of the racks of your oven. Since the dough rises quickly, let heating the oven be your first step, even before you form your dough.

Set up for the bake. Place the stone or tiles in the oven. Preheat the oven to 500F. It’ll take about 45 minutes to completely come to temperature.

Make the dough. Pour the water into a medium sized glass or ceramic bowl. Add the yeast. Stir to combine. Add the olive oil. Add whole wheat flour and 1 cup of all purpose. Add salt. Stir to combine. Now you have a dense mixture. Measure out 1 cup more of all purpose. Put some on your counter. Add the dough from the bowl. Knead the dough for about 10 minutes, gradually adding more flour until the dough is smooth and elastic but not sticky, not even tacky. You may need another 1/2 cup flour for a total of approximately 2 1/2 cups of flour.

Let the dough rise. Oil a glass bowl and roll the dough around in the bowl until it has a thin coating of olive oil. Place a clean kitchen towel on top of the bowl and let rise until double, approximately 1/2 hour, maybe less.

Shape the dough. Put the dough back on a lightly floured counter. Divide in 2 pieces. Leave one piece in the bowl. Roll the first piece out to a 14” circle.

Tip: If the dough becomes too elastic as you roll, if it fights and goes back to its original size, let it rest for 3 – 5 minutes and roll again. It just means you have to let the gluten relax a little.

Dress the focaccia. When you reach your desired diameter, fold the dough in quarters and transfer to your paddle or sheet. Fold out to its full circle and readjust the shape if necessary. Using the pastry brush paint with olive oil, sprinkle with garlic, rosemary and finally salt.

Bake the Focaccia. Transfer to the heated, tiled/stoned oven, shimmying the dough off of your paddle or sheet. Bake for 3 minutes. Use the pizza paddle or a long-handled spatula to turn the pizza 1/4 turn. Bake 3 more minutes until golden. Remove from the oven and cut into rough squares and enjoy.

This is one of those dishes that is home to me. It comes out all piping hot and bubbling from the oven and you present it simply to your guests. You cut the flaky, tender crust into wedges so everyone gets a good piece and dish out the aromatic, creamy filling. The result is warmth and nourishment to the belly — pure rapture — and a dish that makes everyone feel like royalty.

Pot pies originated with the savory meat pies and pasties of the English. In the American colonies a similar savory pie was made in a pot — hence, pot pie. In the early stages of the colonies when food was scarce, these pies were a way of stretching food to feed more hungry mouths. The crusts were often heavy affairs made of coarse grain and suet. In would go the meaty filling — game, sometimes even bear, or poultry, held together with a heavy sauce. Clams, oysters or lobster were used for those coastal dwellers, but no peas, carrots or mushrooms studded these hearty pies until much later.

As food in the colonies improved, butter was substituted for the suet, vegetables were appropriated along with the meat and a variety of sauces were used. By the 19th century pot pies were so popular that some spoke of eating one pie per person per day! Even though the ingredients available to the general population improved over time, pot pie has always been a vehicle for using leftovers. The genius of leftovers is mostly lost on us modern-day cooks. These meals were many times the richest and most innovative in a common cook’s repertoire, having had time for the ingredients to meld together and then being combined with yet more leftovers for the ultimate in flavor.

I often think of pot pie in the winter at the end of the holidays. There are lots of exotic leftovers in my fridge calling out to me. So I make a crust and a creamy sauce just for the occasion and in go all sorts of goodies. I select a pot and pop it all into the oven for 45 minutes until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbling through its little air hole. If you were to make each component from the beginning, it would be a ton of work. With leftovers it takes about 45 minutes of prep.

Now, the nature of leftover dishes is there is no recipe to follow. I can teach you the basic technique but then you must be resourceful — go look in your fridge! I approach a pot pie by picturing what is in the fridge and imagining those things combined together and, most importantly, whether I would like the combination. I only include what sounds good together to me. If you feel inclined, plan ahead and develop a pot pie over a week of dinners. Of course, stretch the dollar as far as it will go. Sometimes I start with a whole chicken at the start of the week and end up with a pot pie toward the end — a dish in celebration of using everything. Better yet, rouse some friends, roast a chicken and have a pot luck one night and then the following evening make a collective pot pie.

Any way you decide, pot pie necessitates both planning and improvisation. I will give you the recipe for a delicious crust that’s flaky and tender in all the right places and that doesn’t gum up or get soggy after a day in the fridge. As for the filling, I can only offer guidance and incentive. The trick is to pull out all those leftovers, heat them up in a frying pan, and make a creamy gravy or sauce in a separate pan, then mix them together and put them into your casserole. They need to fill your pot/dish right up to the brim so you can nestle your crust on top.

This is the pot pie I made yesterday. It served 4 people. Since I already knew I wanted to make one I started by making the dough for the crust (recipe below) so it could go in the fridge and get cold while I thought about my leftovers.

We had made a roast young chicken — seasoned with salt, pepper, garlic and rosemary — gravy and roasted kabocha squash for Anjuli’s birthday dinner on the 29th. The squash was roasted with ghee, a little maple syrup, salt, pepper, cloves and some cinnamon. On Christmas I had made a roast ham — seasoned with Madeira, mustard, cloves and a little maple syrup — and cubed and froze the remainder. I also had ten shrimp left from a tapa we made for New Year’s Eve. So in went the chicken, shrimp, some thawed peas and carrots I always keep on hand and diced onion leftover from a dish the night before. I thinned my leftover chicken gravy with water (it had become very thick) and then squashed the squash (ha ha) with a fork and added it to the gravy. I whisked it until smooth. The result was three cups of velvety sauce.

I cooked my pot pie in a two quart casserole dish. I would say as a general rule of thumb that you need one cup of sauce for each two cups of filling. Below is a recipe to get you going…

Ingredients
2 cups cooked chicken, cut in bite-sized morsels
1 cup very thick gravy
1 cup water
1/2 kabocha squash
10 cooked shrimp
1 cup cubed, cooked ham
1/2 cup minced onion
2 cups of peas and carrots
Crust for 1 9” pie (recipe below)

Make the sauce. I put the gravy and 1 cup of water in a small sauce pan at medium low, stirred it and let it come to simmer. I squashed the squash with a fork and added it to the sauce, whisking until smooth and creamy. I let it come back to simmer, tasted for seasoning and turned it off. I put a lid on it. Less than five minutes. Sauce done.

Make the filling. I heated a medium frying pan to medium low and added 2 tablespoons olive oil. I fried the onion until soft, 1 minute. Then I added the frozen ham first. After 1 minute they were thawed so I added the frozen peas and carrots. In 1 minute I added the chicken. When everything else was heated through I added the shrimp. After 30 seconds I turned the heat off. Less than 5 minutes. Filling done.

Mix filling and sauce. I put the filling into the sauce and stirred to combine. I spooned everything into the casserole dish. Now I was ready for the crust.

The crust
This crust is great for savory pies. It’s flaky and tender and yet will hold up to hot liquids without getting soggy. There are many ways of incorporating the fat into the flour — a pastry blender, a food processor, two sharp knives or your finger tips. In Colonial America it was finger tips. I am a tactile person. I like to knead my own bread, I often grind my own flour and I also use my finger tips to incorporate the butter into flour. I feel much more control over the process, whether it is true or not. And it feels good.

Ingredients Enough for 2 9” disks
Note: This was enough crust for two pot pies in two quart-size dishes. I saved the other crust, wrapped it in wax paper in the fridge, and made a vegetable pot pie two days later for Austin.

2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup, 2 sticks, cold unsalted butter
1 egg
1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar (preferably Braggs)
3 – 5 tablespoons ice water

Mix ingredients and cut in butter. Add the two flours to a large bowl. Add the salt. Cut the sticks of butter into little pieces. Cut the butter into the flour with the method of your choice, until the mixture resembles coarse meal.

Tip: For the butter, it’s easiest if you cut lengthwise into 4 strips and then cut into ½ inch dice.

For the hand method: If you want to try out the hand cutting method, toss all the butter pieces in the flour and make sure they’re broken up. Then, moving swiftly and only with your fingertips pull the butter bits through your thumb and fingers – using only fingertips! Continuously turn the bowl and every 30 seconds or so fluff up the mixture by turning it through open hands. Never smoosh, press down or use any other part of your hands. Once the mixture looks evenly clumpy like coarse meal all over, you’re done. Don’t overdo it.

Incorporate egg, knead and refrigerate. Mix the egg and vinegar together with a fork. Tossing lightly with a fork, add the egg mixture to the flour. Once it’s evenly incorporated, start adding the ice water, a little at a time, until the mixture barely holds together. It should not appear wet. Dump the dough out gently on your counter and gather it together, kneading two or three times. Form it into a disk on wax paper and refrigerate for 20 minutes to 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 375F.

Roll the dough. Measure the diameter of your pot pie dish or pot. Roll out a circle that is 2” larger than the diameter and 1/8” thick directly on your wax paper. Turn over onto the dish and carefully peel off the paper. Trim the edges to 1 inch all the way around the pot. Fold the edges under so they are tucked in over the edge of the rim. Crimp the edges by pinching together with thumb and index finger. This sticks the dough to the pot and also gives a decorative edge. Cut a 1/2” circle in the center of your crust to release steam as it bakes.

Bake the pie. Bake for 45 minutes until the crust is flaky and brown and the filling is bubbling. Serve each person a piece of crust and filling, although you may have to do these things separately!

Samples for inspiration…

Sauces
Leftover cream-based soup (e.g. of broccoli or mushroom)
Mashed potatoes thinned down with milk
Squashed squash
Gravy
Roux made of stock, butter and wine
Cream sauce of any kind

Fillings
Meat, poultry or seafood of any kind, cut in 1/2 to 1” dice
Frozen diced or small cut veggies
Roasted root vegetables
Broccoli, cauliflower or other cruciferous veggies (steamed, sauteed, roasted, etc)
Dark, leafy greens (steamed or sauteed)
Dried fruit
Diced onion, garlic, shallots
Bottled chestnuts
Herbs like oregano, tarragon, rosemary, thyme, basil, cilantro, parsley
Spices like paprika, black pepper, coriander, cumin

So, here’s dreaming…

• Roasted vegetables, broccoli, chestnuts, edamame and a cream sauce
• Beef, onions, carrots, potatoes in a roux-based sauce made from leftover gravy and seasoned with rosemary and thyme
• Cooked chicken, dried apricots and currants, leftover cabbage, slice, cooked mushrooms and cream sauce made with flour, butter, chicken stock and giblets, seasoned with shallots, parsley, and tarragon

Have fun!

I don’t know which is a more unfortunate name for this vegetable: sunchoke or jerusalem artichoke. Sunchokes look like overgrown, dirty ginger, are a cousin of the sunflower (hence, sunchoke) and native to the US, and taste like a slightly sweet potato with a bit of nuttiness and the texture of a turnip. Unfortunately, both its names and odd ginger shape have caused this root to be relegated to the oddball end-of-year bins at farmers markets.

My past experiences with sunchokes have been minimal. Generally we’d be all the way through fall and well into winter before I’d seek out this root. I would be desperate for something different to eat and feeling as though there was nothing new in the world and I may just die of boredom. Then I’d spot a sunchoke in a market and edge toward it – probably mistaking it for ginger. I’d realize my mistake once I was standing over the grubby bin, wanting to shy away, but somehow I’d find myself thinking, “how bad can it be?” I’d settle on a few particularly knobby roots, take them home and place them on the table where they’d sit, admittedly, for too long. Eventually I would try to steam them or fry them or bake them. But generally my heart just wasn’t in it; my desire to cook lay dormant until spring.

This year I’ve been cultivating a taste for tubers, rhizomes, and the like as we’ve been spending more and more time without refrigeration and surrounded by seasonal and regional produce. First was sweet potatoes, then recently we tried mom’s glorious turnips. So when Priscilla called and asked if we wanted some sunchokes for our Thanksgiving dinner and she said they were lovely, I said “Yes ma’am.” She brought over two beautiful quarts of some heady vegetable stock with pepper and leeks and carrots and celery and a few tips on what to do – roast ‘em and puree ‘em into a soup. So roast and puree I did.

This recipe accentuates the nuttiness and sweetness of this sun root in a simple soup that begins in the oven and ends up in the pot. The big bunch of dill adds, well, dilliness and color to this otherwise monochromatic dish and the cream gives it just a touch of the refined.

Thank you Priscilla, for introducing me to such a wonderful vegetable. While they may look like lowly roots, they have a taste all their own. So grab a piece of crusty bread and enjoy.

Roasted sunchoke soup with cream and dill
3 1/2 lbs sunchokes (preferably small, round ones with barely any nubbins on ‘em), washed and scrubbed
Olive oil
3 tablespoons butter
2 leeks
2 quarts vegetable (or chicken) stock
1 huge bunch dill, washed and minced (about 2/3 cup yield)
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 cups water
Black pepper
Salt

Make sure the racks are spaced in the middle of the oven. Heat the oven to 425F.

Prep the sunchokes. Get out two large bowls and cover them with wet paper towels or plates (this prevents oxidation). Peel the chokes as best you can – this is no time to be anal. As long as you’ve scrubbed them clean, a little peel left on is good to taste and good for you. Place each choke in the bowl as you go. Once they’re all peeled, slice them thinly (1/8″) by hand or with a mandoline, continuing to add them to the bowl.

Roast the chokes. Toss the slices liberally in olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Lay them out on two greased cookie sheets as thinly as you can. Roast in the oven for 30 minutes, flipping every 10 minutes or so. Remove from the oven.

Note: You want the chokes to be slightly browned, soft in the center and still moist. If they are browning too quickly, turn down the heat and allow them to cook for longer.

Cut the leeks. Meanwhile, cut the green ends off the leeks (so you’re left with dark green and white). Slice them in half and then slice 1/4 inch thick slivers. Place in a bowl filled with cold water for a few minutes, then remove with your hands to clean paper towels.

Sweat the leeks. When the chokes are almost tender, heat the butter in a heavy-bottomed soup pot over medium. Add the leeks and sweat, covered, until softened, about 8 minutes. Using a spatula, scrape the sunchokes into the pot and saute for a few minutes.

Puree and add the stock. Puree the chokes with an immersion blender. Begin adding the stock and pureeing until you have a soup that moves freely when stirred. If the stock is not enough, add in the few cups of water. If too grainy, continue to puree.

Season the soup. Add the dill and bring to a boil. Crack in 20 rounds of black pepper. Turn down to a low simmer and add in the cream. Stir, taste and adjust seasonings. Do not allow to bring back up to a boil. Once it tastes good, remove it from the heat and serve!

Tip: You can keep this in the fridge or freezer. To reheat, heat it up slowly on medium low, adding a bit more stock or water, if necessary. Do not allow to come to boil.

I am sitting in the living room of one of my closest friends in Philadelphia, Anj’s godmother Kristin.  I grew up in Philadelphia and have been very close with Kristin since I was 16.  That is over 40 years.  She is dying of lung cancer and I don’t know if this is the last time I will be with her.   

For the last year I have been making the purest and simplest food for her – organic chicken broth or very simple organic lentils with greens. Even though I can’t be there to cook for her every night, she can combine these simple foods to make soups and stews – giving her comfort, inspiration and the nutrition she needs to keep her strength. I freeze them and bring them to her about once a month.  Now most of what she is eats comes out of an intravenous tube. (What she takes by mouth she usually throws up.)

So here I am, sitting next to her, and writing this post while she dozes on my shoulder – a surreal experience. But work is an anchor that grounds the soul – so here we go.

This fall in Connecticut has been spectacular.  I never remember one more beautiful.  For weeks the maples have been aflame: red, yellows, oranges.  Storms come and go, trees swaying violently in the winds, rains turning everything dark.  And then the rains stop and I look up, expecting to see the skeletons of the trees nude without their brilliant fall display. But no, the show goes on.  What a privilege to live in New England at this time of year.

I love the seasons. Even winter, when I can sit around the fire and study my seed catalogs and dream about the spring.  Anj and my favorite festivity is Halloween.  We carve pumpkins and make scary dummies and tell ghost stories.   One year Anj went to a Halloween party in NY dressed as a dead prom queen.  She sent us a photo.  It was spooky, a little too real, freaked us out. We did not like to see her looking dead.  But we do get into it.  Look at Harry and Henrietta; you will see what I mean.

Every year in October I make a pilgrimage to a local farm of ours Tulmeadow. Not just for apples and pears but to buy big pumpkins, field pumpkins, sugar pumpkins and mums and gourds.  Field pumpkins, in my opinion, are for carving and sugar pumpkins are for eating.  I cut them in half, clean out the seeds and soak them to clean them and roast later. Then I roast the pumpkins until they are tender.  When they are falling apart I scrape out all the flesh – with its aroma of earth and cloves – puree it and freeze it to use in my pies, breads and other desserts during the holidays.

Today was the day. I am very happy I did it because the rest of the fall is filling up fast, including a trip to India.   Anjuli and Matt and Austin will be here for Thanksgiving and I have heard a rumor we may cook our turkey in a pit in the ground.  Whatever we do, my pumpkin puree will be there waiting for me for comfort and inspiration.

Roasted pumpkin seeds (pepitas) Makes 1 1/2 cups seeds from 2 6″ pumpkins
I always think I am going to roast the seeds of the sugar pumpkins, but most times they end up in the compost.  This year I did it.  It is something of a pain – I have to warn you – but they are worth it. They are very yummy.

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups pumpkins seeds, pre-soaked in salt solution and dried (see above
1 tablespoon ghee or butter
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon red chili powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Clean the and soak the seeds. Wash the pumpkins, cut them in half and remove the seeds and all those gooey fibers from inside the pumpkin. Transfer the seeds and fiber to a bowl of water and let soak a few minutes.  Remove the seeds, clean them of fiber and transfer them to a colander.  Run water over them and remove fiber until their clean. Clean the bowl and place them back in along with 1 cup hot water and 1 teaspoon salt. Soak for 30 minutes.  

Dry on paper or kitchen towels until there is no excess water. It’s Ok if they are damp.

Tip: So clean the pumpkin, first use your hands. It is messy and slimy but the most effective tool.  Then switch to a metal spoon to scrape the inside of the pumpkin smooth.

Season the seeds. Preheat the oven to 350F.  Put the dried pumpkins seeds on a cookie sheet.  Heat a small frying pan to medium low.  Melt the ghee.  Add the cinnamon, ginger, chili powder and salt and cook for 30 seconds.  Pour on the seeds and mix everything to combine.  Spread the seeds out in a single layer.

Roast and store the seeds.
Roast the seeds for 15 to 20 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes until toasty brown.  Cool on a wire rack.  Store in an airtight bottle.

Pumpkin puree  Makes 4 cups of puree

Ingredients
2 6″ diameter sugar pumpkins, cut in half and cleaned of seeds and fibers
8 teaspoons ghee
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

Season and roast the pumpkins. Preheat the oven to 375F.  Sprinkle 1/8 teaspoon of cloves in each pumpkin half.  Paint each half with 2 teaspoons of ghee.  Place the halves in a large roasting pan.  Put a small ovenproof bowl or ramekin full of hot water in the roasting pan with the pumpkins.  This water will keep the pumpkins from drying out as you roast them.  Roast for 75 to 90 minutes until really tender.

Puree and freeze. Remove pulp, while it is still warm, and place in the bowl of a food processor.  Puree until smooth.  It may take about a minute.  Freeze in proper containers. This puree is a million times better than the stuff that comes in a can.

Tip: I find one cup containers give me the most flexibility.  If I am using it for bread or cookies I probably need 1 cup.  If I am using it pie it varies.  This way I don’t waste it by defrosting more than I need. I always write the quantity, date, and description of the contents (pumpkin puree with cloves) on the lid of the container.

Now whenever the mention of pancakes came up it’s usually a passing mention by a guest on a lazy Sunday morning. Of course Mom jumps at the thought and we all congregate around the griddle. While I generally leave the eating to others, I do love making pancakes on a griddle.

The oil sizzles and bounces before you wipe it down. Then you ladle on your batter and it always works out into an oval with tiny bubbles forming on its surface as the bottom begins to set. You flip it over, some of the batter splashing out into those thin crisps on the edge. A dome rises in the center and you know that little golden cake is done. While others are eating pancakes Mom and I pour the batter into the waffle press and wait until it’s a dark brown before slathering each waffle with butter. She’s generally all civilized and eats on a plate but I just stand by the griddle eating waffles with my hands and flipping pancakes.

Matt and I have been desperately trying to keep up with a sourdough starter that Karl gave to us. Karl, our host, has this one starter he’s been keeping in the fridge forever and he makes this one whole wheat sourdough bread with it. So we thought, if he’s such a dedicated fan of this bread, we must give it a try. Suffice to say, we didn’t give too much thought to bringing home a pet starter – a yeasty flour with a voracious appetite. So we’ve been baking a lot to keep the critter small. No, I’m not complaining. After trying out his whole wheat sourdough – which involved a lot more salt and water than we’ve ever attempted and came out incredibly chewy and tangy – we brainstormed other ideas. Then we spent a week making rock cakes and whole wheat breads and eating them for basically every meal.

Finally, someone mentioned pancakes, and I’m not saying it was me. We discussed, I groaned, and we finally agreed to try some sourdough pancakes. Now, you know I wouldn’t post this on ASM unless it was a happy ending. We decided to go for a heavy starter recipe that was light on the sugar – as in only 2 tablespoons for 2/3 cup starter and 1 1/2 cups whole wheat. After soaking the starter, flour and water overnight, we added the maple syrup, eggs, baking soda, salt, and some butter. The resulting pancakes – once flipped on the griddle – fluffed up like only a sourdough can into a spongy, tangy, delicious griddle cake that was actually begging to be smeared with maple syrup and butter. Of course the fire gave it a smokiness that can only happen in the outdoors. But yes, the pancake was craving sweets and I tagged along for the ride. It felt good and tasted even better.

If you have extras, spread on some peanut butter and honey and enjoy for lunch!

Sourdough pancakes Serves 2-3
2/3 cup starter
1 1/2 cups whole wheat
1 1/2 cups water

3 tablespoons maple syrup
3 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 cup ghee or butter

Tip: Every sourdough is different. Some are very yeasty, some more water/mild. Mine is an incredibly strong sourdough and we needed a lot of water and very little flavoring in order to coax some good batter out of it. So pay attention to your starter and experiment!

Combine the starter, whole wheat and water in a bowl. Stir well, adjust the water/flour until you have an almost runny batter (when you let it fall off the spoon). At this point you want it to be a bit thick but otherwise the consistency of pancake batter. Cover and let sit overnight.

Add the remaining ingredients and stir thoroughly.

Heat a griddle to 350F-375F. Add on some sunflower or sesame oil. Ladle on the batter. Once the bottom is just beginning to set, flip the pancake, about 2 minutes. Allow to cook a couple minutes more. Serve with butter and maple syrup or blackberry jam or applesauce. Enjoy their heartiness and relish the fact that you won’t pass out afterwards.