This “compote” is just like baby food. If babies liked harissa.

And if pediatricians regularly recommended raw garlic as a part of an infant’s healthy diet. Or freshly ground caraway– babies probably don’t love that. And coriander seeds– those are probably a bit strong too.

Let me amend that last statement.

This “compote” looks just like baby food. It a puree after all. And maybe you’ll be as happy as roly poly baby after you eat it.

I ate a lot of ham over the holidays. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good ham. I also love all of the leftovers that come with the ham: the ham biscuits, the souffle with ham and Gruyere cheese, the fried ham steaks. (I am nothing if not resourceful. But I couldn’t face any more leftovers, therefore have stuck the bone in the freezer and will make split pea soup at a later date.) Come January I was ready to say farewell to the pig, and hello to some vegetables.

Enter the North African Carrot “Compote” from Mediterranean Harvest by Martha Rose Shulman. (By the way, I’m not sure why the word compote is in quotes; I’m just going with it.) This book had four recipes alone for carrot mezze, but this simple one was a standout to me, because I basically had all of the ingredients.

I made some rosemary-sea salt focaccia bread, hardly North African, but a delicious slathering tool and ate my “compote” right up. It’s spicy and savory, and yes, a more adult form of baby food.

North African Carrot “Compote”
adapted from Mediterranean Harvest by Martha Rose Shulman

1 pound carrots, peeled and sliced
1 large russet potato (about 1/2 pound), peeled and diced
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 garlic clove, mashed to a paste with 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1 teaspoon harissa

Steam carrots and potato together until very soft, about 15-20 minutes. Mash with a mortar and pestle, or put through a ricer. (Using a food processor would just make the mixture gluey because of the starch in the potato.)

Stir in the lemon juice and the olive oil. Mash the garlic and the salt into a paste in a mortar and pestle. Add the spices, and continue to mash. It is not important that the seeds be completely ground, I liked mine with some body.

Add the paste, and the harissa. Stir well to blend, taste for salt, and then serve warm, or at room temperature.

I recently taught an autumn pie class, and at the end of the course one of my students gave me a vintage Pennsylvania Dutch cookbook she had picked up at an estate sale. I had told the class that I have a fascination with heirloom cookbooks. The book was her thank you for teaching her to face her culinary fears of pie dough.

As I’ve looked through the book (it’s really more of a spiral-bound pamphlet), fascinated by the advice on how to make a meal out of so little, one recipe stuck out– noodles for soup.

When I was young, I remember my grandma, though not Pennsylvania Dutch, making the richest, most satisfying soup with her own homemade egg noodles. Any time she roasted a chicken, she always made stock from the carcass. She would drop off a large tupperware of the soup to my parents at work. The noodles were thick and chewy; and by the time my mom arrived home to heat the stuff up for dinner, the noodles had swelled to to such great proportions they practically had sucked up all the broth. I guess grandma’s noodles were more like dumplings, but they were delicious.

This Pennsylvania Dutch recipe is more precise, with strict instructions for both resting the dough, and drying the noodles before use. (My grandma never did either, hence the bloat!)

The recipe is hardly a recipe– just three ingredients that most everyone has in the kitchen. The directions are focused and are meant for a person who is somewhat skilled in the kitchen. And might I just say– the rolling pin must be your friend. This recipe is simple yet trustworthy, and make piles of thin, imperfect, and homey noodles, ideal for soup. It’s true these noodles were not my grandma’s, but they were reminiscent of them. I’m sure I’ll make them all winter long.

Noodles for Soup
from Old Pennsylvania Dutch Recipes

1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, beaten

Sift flour and salt together into a bowl. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and add the eggs. Blend thoroughly. Knead the dough on a floured surface, cover, and let stand for 30 minutes.

Roll the dough to about 1/8 an inch. Turn the dough over, and continue rolling until paper thin. Allow dough to dry partially, about an hour.

Cut the dough into lengthwise strips, about 1/4 inch wide, and then cut into strips about 2 1/2 inches long. Separate noodles, and allow to dry for several hours at room temperature, until just about dry. Noodles can then be used immediately, or can be covered and held in the refrigerator until ready to use.

Recipe makes 2 cups of noodles, enough for a generous pot (6 cups) of soup. Simply add the noodles to stock, and allow to simmer for 15 minutes.

I’m smitten with a lowly flour.

It all started last year with a trip to upstate New York. I went to the teeny-tiny, mill town of Penn Yan. It was quaint. But what do you do in a mill town except buy flours and grain? Not a whole lot. So, I filled the trunk of my car with stone-ground polenta, finely milled pastry flour, groats, and buckwheat flour.

The buckwheat flour was excellent, nutty, chewy, and somehow fluffy. I made filling buttermilk pancakes and delicate crepes– enjoying every mouthful. A few months after my trip, my supply quickly diminishing, a dear, like-minded friend moved away.  He left behind a cache of baking ingredients for me. As I was unpacking my new muscavado sugar, whole wheat pastry flour, and vanilla paste, I found his supply of buckwheat flour. Great minds and hungry bellies think alike!

With my supply replenished without a trip to the health food store, I decided to mix things up a bit. Venturing away from the griddle, I made Buckwheat Cranberry-Walnut Scones. These scones gives the air of being healthy, but not obviously so. They are sturdy yet buttery, nutty from both the walnuts and the buckwheat flour, seasonal, from the cranberries, and meltingly tender.

See why I’m smitten? I guess it doesn’t take much for me. I have already started to think of different ways to incorporate this flour into the repertory. Let me know if there’s a way that you use buckwheat flour.

These scones just may be ascetic enough to make during your post-Thanksgiving weekend next week. Gobble, gobble!

Buckwheat Cranberry-Walnut Scones

1 egg
1/2 cup whole milk
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup buckwheat flour
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1/2 cup walnuts
1/3 cup cranberries

In a small bowl, whisk egg, milk, and cream and set aside.

In a medium size bowl, whisk both flours, brown sugar, baking powder, and salt together. Add the butter. With your hands work the butter into the flour mixture creating a coarse meal. Add the walnuts and the cranberries, tossing until well-incorporated. Pour in the milk mixture. With a rubber spatula or your hands, but the mixture will be sticky, work minimally into a loose dough. Gather the dough into a ball, and knead it about 5 times in the bowl.

Turn the dough out onto a well-floured counter, and with floured hands, gently pat into an 8 or 9 inch square. Cut the dough into 9 scones, making 3 horizontal and vertical cuts. Place each scone on a parchment or Silpat lined baking sheet, about 1 inch apart. Place pan in the refrigerator and let the scones rest while oven is preheating, about 15 minutes.

Bake in a 425 degree oven for 15-18 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Cool on a rack and then serve warm or room temperature.

As a sit at my desk writing this I’m looking out the front window. Cars are speeding by, going home for the evening. Their headlights are on. I can’t see the drivers. It is dusk…

It’s also 4:30. Really?

Gag me. Daylight savings time has just ended.

I’ll get over it. It just takes me a few days. The highlight of standard time is, of course the fact that the mornings are a little brighter. (And it’s a good thing, I was beginning to feel like a farmer when my alarm went off.) Bright mornings mean bright breakfasts, and that to me means granola. Granola that’s just the slightest bit naughty.

How is this granola naughty you might ask? By the addition of cocoa nibs– roasted and cracked cocoa beans. I love a good nib. They give you a hit of chocolate flavor, without being sweet. In fact, I have always thought that they were rather fruity. A nib is crisp, dark, mysterious– and perfect for making granola.

The nibs in this granola are sort of like an additional nut, and tossed with tangy dried apricots it makes the perfect not too sweet granola. I would even call this granola restrained. (If you think that eating chocolate first thing in the morning is restrained.)

Cocoa Nib Granola

2 cups rolled oats
1/3 cup cocoa nibs
3/4 cup shredded coconut, unsweetened
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon honey
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped raw almonds
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1/4 cup chopped dried apricots

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.

In a medium sized bowl toss oats, nibs and coconut together. Set aside.

In a saucepan over medium heat, melt the oil and butter. When entirely liquid, add the brown sugar, honey, and almonds, and cook for about 2 minutes, or fragrant. Turn off the heat and add the vanilla and the salt. Pour this mixture over the oat mixture. Toss well to coat, creating clumps of oats.

Pour onto a baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes, toss well, and then bake for an additional 10-15 minutes. Add the apricots, and toss again. Cool completely, and then store in an airtight container. Granola will last for quite some time, 2 weeks if you’re lucky.

Do you know that song by Lionel Richie? “Stuck on you, got a feeling down deep in my soul…dah, dah, dah, Yes, I’m on my way–” (Hum the rest, because if you’re anything like me, you NEVER know the correct words to ANY songs.) Well, that song kept playing over and over in my head as I made this caramel corn.

Making this caramel corn was a sticky endeavor. But it is delicious!

With autumn comes no more humidity on the East Coast. Yay! This means a variety of things are now possible for me. For one: pants. Now I can wear them and be comfortable. Not that I was going bottomless before, I was just much more likely to be in a dress or a skirt when it was sticky outside. I love girly clothes, but I also love my jeans.

Two: Dry air means not only is it possible to keep popcorn (a favorite snack of mine) without it getting stale and soggy, but it is also possible to coat said popcorn in salty sweet caramel, and snack ’til my heart’s content.

This recipe uses a candy thermometer, but it is not at all finicky. When making caramel it is important to boil the sugar to a certain temperature, in this case– 250 degrees. Other than that, you will most likely have the rest of the ingredients on hand– always a good thing. There is also a good dose of salt in this recipe. I like my caramel corn to have a salty kick. But you can use less if you like.

Once you have the caramel made, you’ll want to work fast. Pre-measure the baking soda and the vanilla, and make sure you have a clean, bowl, that is large enough to thoroughly mix the caramel with the popcorn.

Gently break up the caramel corn into sizable pieces once it is out of the oven. It will last in an airtight container for about 5 days. But it’s never lasted that long in my house.

Salty-Sweet Caramel Corn

10 cups of popcorn, either made in air-popper or on the stovetop. For the stovetop, 10 cups of popcorn requires 3 tablespoons of oil and 1/4 cup of kernels

1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup corn syrup, light or dark
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4-1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat, or parchment paper.

Place the popped popcorn in a large bowl, discarding any unpopped kernels.

In a medium saucepan melt sugar, corn syrup, butter, salt and water, stirring until smooth. Continue to whisk and simmer until mixture reaches 250 degrees with a candy thermometer, about 4 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, and add the baking soda and vanilla. The mixture will bubble up, but continue to stir.

Quickly pour the caramel mixture over the popcorn, and with a rubber spatula, stir evenly but gently to coat. Pour coated popcorn on the baking sheet, spreading into a single layer.

Bake for 1 hour, stirring and turning every 20 minutes. Remove from the oven, cool slightly, and break up if needed.

Fall can be a confusing time. Don’t get me wrong– it’s one of my favorite seasons. (Out of four, it’s probably number one!) For one thing, there is always the crisis of what to wear. Tights or bare legs? Sandals still, or do you move on to flats? Light sweaters in the morning, jackets for an evening stroll. You see– these are serious issues.

Once you have managed to get yourself dressed for the day, there is the issue of what to eat. It’s a good thing that I don’t find this issue quite so vexing. In fact, I rather enjoy these crossovers.

I was at the farmers market last week, and one of the vendors was selling rhubarb. Spindly and springish, this vegetable cum fruit actually grows from high spring to early fall. I bought some, and stuck it in the fridge until I decided what to do with it. A few days later I spotted black mission figs at the market, and knew that the kitchen was calling.

I went home and made a galette– the lazy man’s pie. The tart acidity of the rhubarb mixed with the richness and potency of the figs making the perfect combination. Neither one of these “fruits” is overly juicy, so they were an ideal match for an open-faced dessert, but the juices that they did create were intoxicating.

Simply kissed with sugar, and baked with crushed hazelnuts on top, this galette was just the dessert to eat on a fall day. And to quote Little Edie Bouvier Beale, I even found “the best costume of the day,” to wear while chewing– sleeveless dress, cardigan sweater, and flats.

Fig-Rhubarb Galette

2 cups rhubarb, cut into 1/2 inch dice
1/2 cup sugar
pinch of salt
2 cups fresh figs, cut into quarters
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup hazelnuts, roughly chopped

1 disc pie dough

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

In a medium sized bowl, toss the rhubarb completely with sugar and salt. Add the figs, flour, and vanilla, and toss gently trying to keep the figs in tact. Set aside.

Roll out the pie dough, approximately 12-14 inches around. Transfer the dough to a parchment or Silpat lined cookie sheet. Spread the fruit filling, leaving about 2 inches free around the perimeter of the dough. Sprinkle on the nuts.

Fold the dough over the filling, gently pressing the dough together as you go. This creates the crust; and the galette will be free-form. If you would like, brush the crust in cream, and sprinkle with turbinado sugar.

Bake for 40-45 minutes, then let cool on the cookie sheet, before slicing.

Hello.

My word, it’s been a long time. A really looooooooong time. And it’s my fault—that’s right—you can place the onus squarely on me. I guess you could say that I’m not too great about keeping in touch. Apologies.

I have an excuse, a rather good one in fact. But first, I’m going to butter you up—with muffins.

Muffins can be a tricky thing. Purchased on-the-go from a non-reputable coffee joint they can be a leaden, flavorless mass. Bought from a vendor at your local farmer’s market and they can have a crunchy sugar-coated top and chewy oats within. But when you are searching for the best muffin, when running to the farmer’s market, or even the bakery simply won’t do, you need to make them yourself.

This classic blueberry muffin recipe is actually based on a Sour Cream-Peach Muffin that I found in Jim Fobel’s Old Fashioned Baking Book. You will notice that from my pictures, those do not look anything like peaches. They’re not—I made classic Blueberry Muffins. Oh, and I used yogurt, not sour cream. So I guess this recipe is truly inspired by Mr. Fobel’s.

These muffins are tender and moist, slightly sweet, and bursting with blueberries (or peaches, or plums, or nectarines, really, anything you have on hand). Made on a Sunday morning and enjoyed while still warm from the oven, I would say that they’re a perfect way to start off the morning.

Blueberry Muffins

adapted from Jim Fobel’s Old Fashioned Baking Book

makes 12 muffins

for the topping:

¼ cup flour
¼ cup sugar
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
pinch of salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

for the batter:

1 egg
½ cup yogurt (low or full fat)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
2 cups flour
½ cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1½ cups blueberries (if using frozen, don’t thaw)

Preheat the oven to 400°. Line twelve, 2½ inch muffin cups with paper liners and set aside.

Prepare the topping in a medium size bowl. Toss the flour, sugar, cinnamon and salt together. With a fork, or your fingers, work in the butter until oatmeal-like clumps are created. The topping should resemble streusel. Set aside.

In a medium size bowl, whisk egg, yogurt, milk, vanilla, and melted butter until smooth. In a large bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Pour the yogurt mixture into the flour mixture. and stir quickly. Add the blueberries, and gently toss just until mixed. Batter will still be lumpy.

Spoon the batter equally into the muffin cups. The cups will be full. Quickly pat the topping onto the muffins.

Bake for 25-30 minutes. The tops should spring back when touched. Remove from the oven, let cool for 5 minutes, then remove from the pan. Serve warm. I like them split with a pat of butter smooshed inside.

I am not a competitive person. Growing up, I never had any interest in organized sports. I was on the basketball team (B team, mind you) in middle school. There was one game that the coach had to call a time out because I got tangled in my jersey. Yeah. That’s how good I was. Trophies never interested me, nor ribbons. But when a friend of mine mentioned that he was thinking of entering a pie contest, in a county fair about an hour from where we live, I was immediately intrigued. This was one competition that I could get behind.

I entered an apple pie, he entered a pumpkin.

Now I know that me, a California girl, was taking a risk entering an apple pie in New England– home of the apple pie. But I figured I live in Connecticut now, I had to experience local color. I might not be a died in the wool Blue Blood, but I could dabble. So I made an apple pie– an apple pie with cheddar cheese crust to be precise. Borrowing from the New England tradition of eating a wedge of cheese right along side of their apple pie, I instead incorporated the cheese into the filling. This was a pie I have made several times for friends, and it has received rave reviews. (Pardon my conceit.)

When I dropped off the pie I should have known. It was taken from me, along with my registration, and put in a plastic bag– never good for maintaining a flaky crust. The participants also did not have an opportunity to name their pies. No judge was even made aware of the cheddar in the crust. I can only imagine the peculiar looks my pie received upon tasting. When I left the pie my pie for judging the next day, I shook my head to my friend. “I don’t have my hopes up,” I said.

The next evening we drove to the country fair. We shouldered our way in to the agricultural/food tent, and peered at the pies. There was my apple pie, a tiny slice taken out, all by its lonesome. Not a ribbon to be seen. Not even an honorable mention. I said it before– I am not a competitive person– but this is one contest I would have liked to at least place.

If it makes me feel any better, my friend, a wonderful cook in his own right, didn’t place either. Who knows, I might just have to enter again next year. Maybe with a more basic pie. Or maybe I will have to befriend a judge. A little nepotism never hurt anyone.

Remember the pathetic growing season I had last year? When I couldn’t get my tomato plants into the ground and had to “grow” them in pots? Then it rained practically all June long, leaving me with a few measly, watery tomatoes. This, my friends, is what I call a serious dearth. Well, this year we tried again. We actually got the tomatoes into the ground, in soil no less! They were slow going. Slow to ripen. But then they got a little crazy, bushing out, tossing their tomato cages out of the garden. If not for the care of a diligent and mindful friend while Brian and I were in California, I fear that we would have had to hack our way through the tomato jungle when we got home. In fact, we sort of did.

This was only one of our tomato harvests. I would say this is is only a quarter of what has been plucked and consumed.

That is what I would call a glut.

Granted, these tomatoes were Early Girls and Fourth of Julys. What month is it? Oh yes, it’s August– late August, but this is New England, so I’m not complaining.

In addition to giving everyone that I know fresh tomatoes, whether they want them or not, Brian and I have been eating tomatoes at just about every meal. This is what I have made lately:

• Pappa al Pomodoro- excellent and satisfying, I will definitely make this again.
• Seafood stew with crushed tomatoes
• Tomato Champagne Salad- Booze and tomatoes, what could be better?
• Tomato and Fresh Corn Salad with Creme Fraiche
• Broiled Bluefish with Pico de Gallo
• Canned tomatoes for the winter
• Tomato Confit

I haven’t made tomato confit in a couple of years, but I had a ton of split tomatoes, waiting to be peeled. That’s olive oil, and the juices from the tomato that the fruit is swimming in. It’s pretty spectacular. I eat it on crusty bread, juice dribbling down my chin, or it’s amazing served over pasta or pan fried gnocchi. I wrote about it on iVillage, the recipe is over there. I’ll let you know if any other recipes occur to me that I have to share.

I’m off to eat more tomatoes!

My word!  Is it August already?  Where is the summer heading to?

I had good intentions about blogging while I was in the Bay Area, I really did.  My days were full of family, friends, and food.  I know that sounds like the perfect thing to write about.  That’s sort of what Nosheteria is about, right? But, you know how it is– sometimes life just gets in the way of blogging!

It was good to be back in Berkeley though.  The restaurants, the markets, and yes, the politics.  I took this picture near my old apartment, not far from Berkeley Bowl– a market to beat all markets.  I’m guessing someone crawled up the billboard in order to leave their mark.  It’s kind of great.  Message received.

In Berkeley, some things never change.