It is traditionally made in a tandoor – a clay oven that gets scorchingly hot. I make mine non-traditionally, in a very hot cast iron skillet, but I find them completely credible and perfectly mouthwatering. The dough contains egg and yogurt, which gives the bread the chewy texture and tang respectively.

It is a yeasted bread, so it does require a teeny bit of forethought, as it needs about 2 hours to rise. I make my naan dough, and most other doughs, in my breadmaker on the dough setting – it warms the ingredients, combines everything, kneads the dough, allows it to rise at the perfect temperature. It produces perfect dough every time. Otherwise, you can use a food processor, or just do it by hand!

This recipe is from Mark Bittman’s cookbook, The Best Recipes in the World. He calls for the naan to be cooked on a preheated baking stone (or baking sheet) on the lowest shelf of the oven at 500 degrees for 3 minutes on the first side and 6-8 minutes on the second side. I did this with my first few, and they were burnt, hugely puffed, and crunchy. Not what I was going for. I reduced the time to 3 minutes per side, and they were okay, but not great. However, when I switched to a cast iron pan, they were perfect! If you don’t have a cast iron pan, don’t substitute – you can’t get a nonstick pan to the temperature you need. Use the oven method, but keep a close watch, and start with less time – maybe 2 minutes per side.

These were the best of the ones made in the oven.

Ten large naan is far too many for just Adarsh and I, so rather than cook them all at once, I froze the rolled out dough in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet. I then wrapped the stack of frozen naan in aluminum foil and removed two at a time to cook as needed. They thaw in just a few minutes, and I have even cooked them while still partially frozen with great results. Naan anytime, in just a couple minutes! What a happy discovery!

This is one made in the cast iron pan. Better.

This particular recipe is so well loved that it has become barely legible from it’s dwelling in Vij’s cookbook, Elegant & Inspired Indian Cuisine. Vikram Vij is a something of a legend in this neck of the woods – he is the chef at a self-named Indian restaurant, which has a huge following in Vancouver. His dishes use authentic Indian techniques and ingredients to create an exciting, original take on the cuisine. Absolutely everything I have made from his cookbook has been exceptional. My only minor criticism is sometimes the recipe calls for too much salt – my advice is always to taste your food as you cook and season adequately. You can add more salt, but you’ll sure have a hard time taking it away!

Adarsh likes to join me in the kitchen when I’m making Indian food. The guy never cooks anything more complicated than a hot dog, but somehow he has magic curry intuition. He knows at one glance if there isn’t enough oil, at one sniff if there isn’t enough cumin, and at one taste if it needs more salt. It rocks my socks and irritates the heck out of me in equal parts.

Dried beans and peas are usually soaked prior to cooking. The quick way to do it is to bring the beans to a rolling boil for 2 minutes in a generous amount of water, then turn off the heat and allow them to soak for 1 hour, covered. You can alternatively soak them overnight at room temperature. Either way, you want to discard the soaking water and start fresh for cooking. A lot of the indigestible carbohydrate (that which makes beans… erm… musical…) is leached out in the soaking water, so for the digestive comfort of your diners, you definitely want to get rid of it.

This recipe calls for black chickpeas, or kala chana, which you can find in any Indian grocery store, and many bulk stores. Black chickpeas have thicker skins than regular chickpeas, and don’t get quite as soft. I like that they maintain their structure and flavour in the curry, however, regular chickpeas (dried or canned) can be used in this recipe and are equally delicious. I have made it at least a dozen times with convenient canned garbanzos.

This curry is not hot, but start with less cayenne if you like things very mild. The nutty flavour of the chickpeas is deliciously complemented by the richness of butter and slow cooked onions, and the aroma of toasty cumin and warm garam masala.

This time I served my curry with yummy homemade naan (recipe to be posted this week!), but often we just have basmati rice. I always double the batch for leftovers – they make a delicious weekday lunch, and the flavours only improve as they are left to mingle. Healthy and incredibly tasty.

I was surprised that when I announced to people my intention to pickle carrots, there were some who thought this was not a good idea. Within my circle of friends, there are some fairly fervent pickled-carrot lovers, and I really believed this was a widespread fondness.

If you like carrots. And if you like pickles (i.e. pickled beets, pickled hot peppers, pickled green beans). Why not pickled carrots?

Adarsh, in particular, was not too enthusiastic about the idea. Mostly, I think, because I slapped his hand away from the gorgeous organic carrots I bought (well, technically he bought…) at the farmer’s market (just for the purpose of pickling!), that he was just dying to crunch into.

He was further unimpressed with me and my hand-slapping when those gorgeous carrots went soft and turned into muffins instead – which he huffily called “carrot cemeteries” and then refused to eat…

Gorgeous carrots, attempt #2!

What I didn’t realize when I embarked on this vinegar-soaked adventure, was that of the art pickle-making is a flippin’ *$#@load of work fun, but laborious task. The peeling, oh the peeling! . I love my mother all the more for the number carrots she has peeled in her life, while I feigned deafness to her calls for assistance.

Aside from removing their peel, the carrots didn’t really give me too much trouble. The pickling concept is very simple, and not nearly as scary as it may seem to virgin pickle-makers. All you have to do is prepare that-which-is-to-be-pickled by cutting it into uniform sized pieces; prepare a brine of boiling vinegar, water, and salt; pack the veggies into sterilized (boiled) jars along with some pickling spice, garlic, and fresh dill; pour the brine into the jars; and boil the jars with their lids on for 10 minutes. Ta da! Pickles. No sweat. (Well, some sweat. But mostly during the goshdarn peeling stage).

You don’t need any fancy equipment to do your own preserving/canning/pickling at home. What you will need, besides the ingredients, are: the biggest pot you’ve got, a big pair of tongs with a rubber band secured around each tong (to prevent the jars from slipping out), glass jars and new lids (you can re-use jars, but you need brand-new lids every time – you can buy them separately and they’re cheap), and that’s it!

The reference book I used is The Art of Preserving from Williams-Sonoma. It is a fabulous book, one that has accompanied me to the beach, the park, on the bus, and to bed. Yeah, people gave me strange looks. Did I care? Nope!

Confession: Every single time I see rosy, plump local strawberries at a market, I will bring them home. And very sadly, my history includes many a soggy berry. Those gorgeous little summer gems only last a day or two in the fridge! But I have discovered a secret to making them last longer. Just mash them with sugar, and not only will they keep a few days more, but they will release beautiful pink juice and be delicious with yogurt, ice cream, cheesecake, or even just on hot buttered toast. The act of sprinkling fruit with sugar causing it to release its juices is called “macerating”. Be sure to e-nun-ci-ate carefully on this word if you decide to repeat it… tee hee hee.

Or, alternatively, you could just bake them into a pie. Or several little pies. Perfect for toting to a picnic, sharing with neighbours, or grabbing for breakfast. Yes, pie for breakfast is perfectly acceptable on occasion.

These rustic looking hand pies are made with cream cheese pastry, which is softer than typical pie crust, and tastes quite like a rich sugar cookie. The strawberries bubble up irresistibly through the vents. The result is darling little, buttery sweet pies, perfectly sized for one.

The number of pies you end up with from the recipe depends on how thinly you roll your dough, and how big your circles are. I used a small circular casserole dish, and my dough was probably closer to 1/4 inch thick than the 1/8th inch the recipe calls for. The amount of strawberry filling you can get into each pie depends on how big your circles are, too. The recipe calls for 2 tablespoons per pie, but you might use more or less. It’s an imperfect science – the results will be delicious no matter what. I got 10 pies from mine, and had a handful of strawberries left over. In retrospect I probably would have forced more berries into the pies (even if the pastry tore a bit), because they melt down in the oven, and hey, we’re already calling them rustic.

The dough is quite sticky, and the 1 hour refrigeration prior to rolling out is very important to be able to work with it. If you find the dough becomes sticky or difficult to work with when cutting out rounds and/or transferring them to the baking sheet, simply pop the dough in the freezer for a minute or two to firm up slightly and it will be totally workable again.

What I really love most about them is their endless versatility. Start with a grain – maybe even pick one you have never tried! Quinoa, couscous, bulgur wheat, kasha (aka buckwheat), amaranth, kamut berries, or different shapes of pasta are all great options. Add some fresh herbs, fresh or dried fruit, diced cucumber, celery, tomatoes and/or peppers, some toasted nuts, and a bright vinaigrette, and you are almost guaranteed a delicious result. It is a great place to be creative and to make the most of what is in season. I used apricots in this salad, which are at their peak in British Columbia right now. If you can’t find fresh apricots, you could substitute dried (just soak them in some boiling water to plump them up) or you could use firm nectarines or peaches instead.

Wheat berries, in my opinion, are a wildly underused grain. They have lots of chewy texture and a sweet, nutty flavour that really stands up to other ingredients in a salad. They are actually the entire wheat kernel, so they are very nutrient rich and high fibre – if you need a reason to eat them beyond deliciousness. You can cook the wheat berries up to 48 hours in advance, just cool completely and refrigerate until ready to use.

Aren’t they pretty?! I think they want to be a tart in their next life.

I am a huge fan of plain yogurt. I much prefer it to the oversweetened flavoured varieties with ingredient lists a mile long or the icky, fake sugar stuff. I buy the higher-fat variety, which has more flavour and is much less sour than the thin, blue-ish fat-free option. I like the natural yogurt flavour with just a spoonful of sugar mixed in. You can alternatively stir in some honey or maple syrup, your favourite jam, or try it with a bit of vanilla extract and then sweeten to taste with sugar.

On the savoury side, yogurt adds a tart richness to curries and pureed soups. I use it regularly to make creamy dips and salad dressings. I particularly love the flavour balance it brings to spicy marinades.

In this recipe, the natural acid in the yogurt serves to tenderize the chicken. I use it in combination with sour cream for added richness. The fat adds lots of flavour on its own, but it also helps carry the flavours of the spices. The result is a delicious flavourful, juicy grilled chicken, perfect alongside grilled corn.

In the summer months, when peaches are at their prime, and sweet, juicy berries are abundant, chocolate desserts usually get displaced in my kitchen by fruit concoctions.

This isn’t a conscious shift, but a product of my impulsive shopping, or what I call ‘market fever’. The symptoms of market fever include dizziness and impaired judgment in the presence of produce, and usually results in lumbering home with half one’s weight in local fruit crammed into just two reusable shopping bags, walking 15 blocks with the dog’s leash tied around one’s waist, with fingertips numb and white with loss of circulation. This particular fever is often marked by fresh cherry (or raspberry/blueberry/insert other highly pigmented fruit here __________ ) stains are present around mouth and on shirt front.

So that is why chocolate gets the heave-ho for several months every year. Because I buy too much fruit to fit in my tummy, or my fridge, and it must be transformed into delicious pies and crumbles and cobblers and buckles and brown betties… things that I know will not taste as good in January with $8 raspberries from Mexico.

However, chocolate still sneaks back into my mind occasionally in August, and chocolate cream pie sometimes results. And might I say that even in the presence of stellar blueberries and strawberries, this is an absolutely dreamy summer dessert. The milk chocolate filling is cool and creamy, not intensely rich, and is perfectly complemented by the salty, crunchy pretzel crust. Quite a match made in heaven, if you ask me.

The pie looks pretty glorious when assembled, but be warned, it is quite messy once cut into. No one will mind. Believe me.

I may have just used it to convert milk chocolate from ounces to cups. Perhaps so that I could share with you a recipe for Milk Chocolate Cream Pie with a Pretzel crust… uh huh, I might have just done that…

Back to moms and grandmothers with strong hands and pie-crust rolling biceps, flour-dusted frilly aprons and wispy curls of grey hair escaping their braids from the exertion of baking. Back to days of spending hours in a kitchen on a hot summer day, piling fresh-picked, sun-warmed berries into pastry shells, and then letting the hot pies cool in the breeze on the window ledge, attracting hopeful neighbourhood kids and dogs alike.

Making pie is wholesome.

Blueberry, in my opinion, is the queen of pies.

There is something about the way those juicy little berries taste when cooked to thick, bubbling oblivion inside a buttery crust. And the way the sticky purple juice runs all over the pie plate when the first slice is cut…

Totally unparalleled in pie-land.

A super trick for handling pie dough hassle-free:

First put a damp paper towel on the counter, followed by a large square of parchment (or waxed) paper. Put the disk of dough on the paper, then top with another square of paper. Use a rolling pin to roll out the dough between the sheets of parchment. The damp paper towel prevents the parchment from sliding all over the counter when you are trying to roll it out.

Once rolled out, peel off one side of parchment paper, put this side down into pie plate, press in, then peel off top parchment. If the paper is sticking, just pop the whole thing in the freezer for a minute or two and it will firm up and pull off easily.

As the title of this post suggests, I did make home made vanilla ice cream to go with it – I think in doing so I took the blueberry pie experience to new levels of bliss. Recipe and tips for home made ice cream coming soon.

I would like to tell you about lobsters and sisters. Both are special, but lets talk about sisters first. My adorable, happy-go-lucky, green-eyed sister is particularly special, for many reasons. Here are just a few:

1. She thinks I’m funny! I mean, she actually laughs at my jokes! Usually only I laugh at my jokes, so this is a big one. I’d keep her around just for that.

2. She makes killer chocolate chip cookies. And she always gets lazy scooping dough toward the end, so we get to have a ginormous cookie baked in a pie plate to kick off the cookie fest.

3. She is quiet when she wakes up. To me, this is a mind-blowingly impossible ability. She makes breakfast without banging bowls, dropping spoons, or stubbing her toe. This girl has magic powers.

4. She loves dogs and babies as much as I do, and we can talk to either in silly dog-and-baby babble without thinking the other is less cool. (For example, me to dog: “Well hewro you booful rittle roggle dogger! Aren’t you a handsome devil! Yes you are! You are just the most handsomest dogger woggle in this whole entire house.” – Katie totally gets that, and usually joins in).

5. Her smile makes me smile too no matter how sad or tired or grumpy I may be in that moment.

6. She makes the house feel full, even though you hardly know she’s there. (The words of my mom, who got it exactly right).

I could go on and on about how much I like my sister, but you get the idea. She’s pretty great. But there’s just one teeny little eensie weensie thing about her that baffles me completely… she’s a PICKY EATER. I mean, she doesn’t like onions (including anything that once touched an onion). Or cooked tomatoes. Or pepper. Or flecks of green. Or anything spicy. Or any one flavour that touches another flavour. Or any meat on the bone. How we came from the same household blows my fragile mind. Mom, was Katie adopted?

The only time I find her picky eating endearing is when there are lobsters involved. No sweat, kid, I’ll make you a PB & J or buttered noodles, and I will happily take care of that lobster for you…

Actually we have a pretty good arrangement, Katie and I. She handles the lobsters while they are still frisky and clawing, then I take care of them when they are on a plate dripping with lemon butter. Teamwork, hoorah!

Katie is obviously unaware of the fact that this lobster knows what we plan to do with him, and is just waiting for the right moment to pinch off her cute little lips with his vicious and razor-sharp (yet delicious) claws.

Those flimsy rubber bands don’t fool me. I want to see steel handcuffs on these puppies before I go in for a smooch.