Don Those Birkenstocks and Chow Down!

There is quite a bit of lore surrounding granola, and I'm not exactly sure why. I do not chug shots of wheatgrass juice before delving into a cup overflowing with fruits and nuts scavanged on my last camping trip, but I do enjoy a good granola from time to time. But I am particular about just what goes into my granolas-- no sunflower seeds, no walnuts, not too much cinnamon, and preferabley no raisins. See...picky. So the easiest way for me to enjoy my fiber, is to make it myself.

So there are many ingredients that I do not favor in my granola, but just what do I like? Well, in the batch that I made there were coarsely chopped hazelnuts, shavings of dried coconut, chopped dried apricots, a handful or so of dried cherries (for sweetness), and of course, rolled oats. Simple and delicious, the granola was lightly kissed with cinnamon, and flavored with a touch of pure vanilla.

How did granola get its oh-so-healthy reputation, when in fact many recipes for it are drowning in vegetable oil, and struggling under mounds of sweeteners? All granola does not have to be this way. In fact this granola uses no unsightly oils, but it does rely upon a bit of melted butter. The butter, when melted, becomes toasty, lending a richness to this cereal. First, melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a saucepan, then add 1/2 cup of chopped nuts, and toast gently over medium heat. The nuts will begin to brown, contributing to the toasty flavor of the butter. Then 1/4 cup of brown sugar, 2 teaspoons of honey, and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract are added to the nut mixture. Continue cooking over low heat until the sugar has melted, about 3 minutes.

Then it's time to go wild, add the nut mixture to 1 1/2 cups rolled oats, and any other ingredients you like. I added 1/4 cup chopped dried apricots, 1/2 cup flaked coconut, a handful of dried cherries, and a light dusting of ground cinnamon. Toss the granola mixture well, as you want the butter to gently coat the oats. Bake on a parchment lined cookie sheet at 325 degrees for one half hour, tossing every 10 minutes. Your granola should be golden brown, and the dried fruit should just be beginning to color.

Then each time you dig in to a batch of your own homemade granola, you too can kick off your Birkenstocks, sway calmly to Sugaree , let your braided hair down, and be proud of the nourishing food in which you are about to take part.

Can A MeatBall Really Look Appetizing?

I don't suppose it really matters if these chicken patties look appetizing, because they were delicious. Deeply savory, with just the right amount of salt from bits of crisply fried bacon-- who knew that something so blase as ordinary minced chicken, could truly be so sublime?


It all started out with a pound of bacon, bought on the weekend. Some of it was fried and crumbled in a salad, a few slices used as an accoutrement to a soft-boiled egg, but what to do with the remainder? While flipping through the pages of my newest, favorite cookbook, I found a recipe for Chicken Patties with Rosemary and Pancetta, and I knew that would be it. I know, I know, pork products are not all interchangeable, but I have been on a "use up everything in your fridge" kick lately, and so I substituted the pancetta for the bacon. A quick trip outside to pluck a few sprigs of woodsy, herbaceous rosemary, and a stroll to the market to buy minced chicken, and I was halfway there.

Clean and simple, yet immensely flavorful, these gems were calling out to be nestled upon a pillow of coarsely mashed potatoes. Boiled with the skin on, the potatoes had that extra hominess, that can only come from hand-mashed potatoes, lumps and all. Laying in the shallow dish before me, with splashes of reduced chicken broth from the cooking process, this meal was the bourgie meatball. A meatball +, if you will, and I ate up my meatballs with abandon.

If you would like the recipe for Chicken Patties with Rosemary and Pancetta, it is on the Daily Specials page. Eat up!

They're Called FlufferNutters

Growing up, I was an Adam's Peanut Butter sort of girl. That all-natural, no sugar added, no trans-fat, oil resting on the top, waiting to be mixed in, was the only sort of peanut butter I was allowed. But when you are a kid, you get to go over to your friend's house, and you learn the "finer" points of culinary life. You are shown how to make FlufferNutter sandwiches. For those of you who don't know, a FlufferNutter is a sandwich slathered in smooth Skippy or Jif peanut butter, and doused with an unhealthy dollop of Marshmallow Fluff. They're very full of preservatives, very fake, but unduly delicious to the tastebuds of a 10 year old, reared on that all-natural junk.

Over the weekend, I began thinking of those Saturday afternoons at my best friend's house, scraping clean the jar of peanut butter. I still love peanut butter; warm peanut butter toast; the occasional PB & J sandwich, with the ratio of peanut butter to jelly exactly correct; and peanut butter cookies, crisp yet chewy. So why not peanut butter cake? And aren't cupcakes so much cuter, just a bite of scrumptious sweetness? And if I'm making peanut butter cake, why not recreate that sandwich from my youth-- the FlufferNutter.

A quick internet search led me to this Peanut Butter Cake recipe. Minorly tweaked by adding 1/2 cup instead of just 1/3 cup peanut butter, this cake had a dense, muffin-like texture, and was not overly sweet. The shock of white frosting adorning this cake was that old stand-by 7 Minute Frosting, a frosting that seems to have fallen out of favor by today's standard. It is light, fluffy, and super-sweet, just like the contents of those jars of Marshmallow Fluff.

These cupcakes were especially nice, baked in bite-sized portion cups, an idea I got from Cupcake Bakeshop, a true artist of cupcakery. Topped with a lightly salted, dry-roasted peanut, so snackers knew what they were about to bite into, these diminutive cakes were a pleasant twist on the standard cup cake, and a lovely reminiscence of a childhood snack.

Not Dietetic and Lame

Even a bourgie needs to eat something clean and ascetic from time to time. During the chilly days of January, fresh from holiday gluttony, and steeped in cold-weather comfort foods, sometimes you need something pure, and maybe a little warm-weather, to rev up your gustatory sensibilities.

These Salmon Kebabs were just the trick. Light, crisp, yet gently charred from an indoor grill pan, and carefully brushed with a marinade that had a Japanese bent, the kebabs were a delight. Made with fresh salmon, and the vegetables of your choosing, I opted for wedges of zucchini, and squares of pungent and sweet red onion-- these babies were definitely healthy. But for all of the Omega-3, and nutrients, the salmon kebabs were not, "all dietetic and lame," to quote my husband.

The marinade was super simple. Combine 2/3 cup of sake with 1/4 cup of both sugar and soy sauce. Bring the mixture gently to a boil, and add 2 tablespoons of freshly grated ginger. Brush the marinade onto the kebabs, several times during the cooking process. The sugar from the sauce will crystallize and caramelize, creating a lovely charred effect on the kebabs.

Served with steamed basmati rice, gently drizzled with the leftover marinade if you like, this dish is perfect. And I won't even make mention of the fact that it's sort of healthy as you take your first bite.

Weights and Measures

I don't know why Nigel Slater is not a bigger deal in the United States. Like his British cohorts, he too brings simple, fuss-free food to the forefront, and does so in an engaging, straight-forward fashion. I love this man. That is why, when book shopping in Oxford, I was thrilled to find his latest book, The Kitchen Diaries. Half food chronicle, half traditional cookbook, it takes the reader through the months of the year, telling us what the author ate on any particular day. And on January 9, there was Double Ginger Cake to be found at the Slater household.

I adapted this recipe a bit, baking it in a round springform pan, and omitting the golden raisins (because really, who wants those in their cake anyway?). What I ended up with was a wonderful, not-too-sweet cake, with a loose crumb, packing quite a punch of spicy ginger flavor. But this seemingly everyday sort of tea-time cake, will really only be a special occasion sort of cake for me. Full of traditional English ingredients like golden syrup; dark brown demerara sugar; and cured ginger, packed in sweetened syrup, all purchased at Tesco before making the journey home, I'm afraid I will only be able to make the cake a few more times.

The book was purchased in England, as well as the ingredients, and the only reason I was able to make this recipe with a modicum of success was my handy kitchen scale. You see in most other countries, and in American bakeries, baking is all about weights and measurement. It is not approximately one cup of self-rising flour; it is precisely 250g of self-rising flour. Baking is all about precision, unlike cooking you cannot simply toss in a bit of one thing, and more of another. So I broke out the scale, and did what I was told. I carefully measured out my golden syrup, and my demerara sugar, and you know what, the cake turned out perfectly.

One addition that I did make was the luscious Caramel Glaze that you see spilling over the sides of the cake. Made very simply by melting one half stick of butter in a saucepan, adding a 1/4 cup each of white sugar and light brown sugar, and stir until blended, about 2 minutes. Then add 1/2 cup of heavy cream and bring to a boil for 2 minutes, stirring constantly. The glaze will be viscous and luxurious, with a cool caramel color. With a toothpick or bamboo skewer, while the cake is still warm, puncture the top of the dessert at regular intervals. Pour on the glaze, working it into the cake with the back of a spoon if necessary. Save a bit of the glaze to spoon on the cake plate when slicing and serving.

So you don't get the cake recipe, but the glaze would be wonderful on any sort of plain, unfrosted cake, be it bundt, chocolate, or even a ginger cake of your own.

McWhat?

My sister says that hands-down, the thing to order at McDonald's is the Egg McMuffin. Occasionally she will get this breakfast food of champions and share one-quarter with her eagerly awaiting dog, Noodle. However, in 27 years of eating, I had never tasted an Egg McMuffin (26 if you count the years consuming solid food). Chalk it up to a lack of interest, or perhaps it had something to do with my not really liking scrambled eggs, but I was a McDonald's breakfast virgin.

That is until last week, when suffering from horrible jet-lag, I sent Brian out at 6 AM on a Saturday, to bring back a sampling of McDonald's breakfast sandwiches, proclaiming that it was time to eat like true Americans. He came back home with a small assortment of McTreats: the McMuffin (ehh), the McGriddle (weird), and the Sausage Biscuit with Egg (the best of the bunch) , for us to share, along with one dessicated hash brown patty. I am sorry to say, my sister and I have a difference of opinion on the sandwich front. I think it's the American cheese that puts me off the McMuffin-- that slick, greasy slice of preservatives and processed milk, does nothing for me. But the Sausage Biscuit was fine, however it was only as good as each of its components. I knew I could do better.

With real scrambled eggs, not the powdered and perfectly formed MickyD's sort, and maple syrup tinged sausage patties, all nestled onto a warm biscuit, imperfections and all, my sausage biscuits were a thing of beauty. Warm, hearty, and satisfying, all delightfully hand-held, it made me wonder why everything is not eaten sandwich style.

These sausage biscuits were a taste of true Americana-- no bourgie trappings here! But I do suppose they could become a bit more sophisticated. Some freshly chopped herbs mixed in with the scrambled eggs, a bit of gorgonzola cheese, a slathering of grainy mustard, perhaps I'll give the Bourgie McMuffin a try on another day.

Puddin' in the Morning

A little bread pudding for breakfast? Why not! I know, I seem to have a fixation with puddings this season. But there is something deeply satisfying about tucking into a warm meal, entirely self-contained, laden with eggs, vanilla, and a bit of dried fruit. (See, dried fruit makes it healthy.)

For a Sunday morning Brunch, with neither a savory egg dish nor a batch of fried-up pancakes sounding very appealing, I decided on a bread pudding utilizing a left-over Pandorro from the holidays. The Pandorro was subtly sweet, and sinfully rich, all on its own; so I made a simple, milk-based custard to complete the pudding. The custard was made with a few egg yolks, a few whole eggs, then tempered with a few cups of simmered low-fat milk, and fragranced with tiny flecks of real vanilla bean seeds to bind it together.

Dried apricots and Ranier cherries were roughly chopped and then added to the largely torn pieces of sweetened Italian bread. Mixed with the unsweetened custard and baked for 30-35 minutes at 350 degrees, the pudding was puffed and golden brown. When I cut into the pudding, steam wafted upwards, bringing with it the fragrance of vanilla, and dried fruit. The pudding was actually light, due to the eggs in both the custard and the Pandorro, and the apricots, which reconstituted just a bit during the baking process, offered a sweet-tart bite of fruit in this brunch time treat.

It's true this pudding may have been a bit unorthodox, a sort of dessert for breakfast, but it was gobbled up by hungry guests waiting to get their Sundays off to a good start.

A Scone Here, or a Scone There

I must say, coming home from England, I did not in fact go for tea even once while I was there. No scones, no clotted cream, not even a crumpet was consumed by me. Chalk it up to jet lag, but come 4 o'clock I was in need of something slightly more potent than a cup of tea. Rather I think that I could have been intravenously hooked up to an enormous coffee urn.

Upon returning home, I realized that this lack of proper tea time treats left me empty. I was in need of a biscuit, or a crumpet, or better still, a scone. But even in the absence of tea time, I did end up with quite a few imported food magazines; so imagine my glee when while perusing through delicious. magazine, I spotted a recipe for Potato Scones. The recipe was super simple. I whipped up a batch in no time, and to go with them, a cup of black tea.

Delightfully easy to make, these scones were mixed up and baked in no time. Half potato pancake, half bread product, these scones were dense, but somehow not heavy. The batter was made by boiling starchy potatoes until cooked, mashing then with an old fashioned potato masher, then adding flour. With no more than a handful of ingredients, they were truly delicious.

Similar to English Muffins, these scones were cooked on the stovetop in a heavy-bottomed, cast-iron skillet. This process gave these savory treats a delightfully crisp, golden brown crust. Maybe these were not the scones of my tea time dreams-- they were a bit too savory to warrant a slathering of clotted cream-- but they were homey, and comforting. And with a good smear of sweet cream butter, they were scrumptious. If you would like the recipe for Potato Scones, go to the Daily Specials page.

I Just Needed a Salad!

Well, I'm back. I trust you all had lovely holidays. I don't know about you, but each year, at about Dec. 30, I get so ready for the hulla-balloo of the holiday season to be over-- all of the gifts, all of the late nights, all of the gluttony. Maybe that makes me a bit of a Scrooge, but that's just the way that I feel.

In terms of food the holidays are wonderful, but it's right about this same time I start craving salads. Aaahh, the ascetic lifestyle, just a bit of lettuce and a soupcon of clear broth, and to quench my parched mouth-- a glass of tepid water. That may be a bit extreme, I am a bourgie...but after a wintertime vacation in England (eating far too many starchy root vegetables) these are the things a girl dreams about on the long flight home. And when I arrived at my abode, refrigerator generally bare, I ran to the market to buy the salad fixins' of my dreams.


On the plane ride home, with little else to do, I planned all of the meals I wanted to cook as soon as I was back in the warmth of my very own kitchen. First things first, while considering a duck salad and its list of ingredients, the components to this salad grew and grew, with the final touch, boozy dried cranberries getting added somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

The base to this salad, peppery arugula and curly frisee, were the perfect greens, both strong in taste and texture. Slices of roasted butternut squash, simply seasoned with olive oil, salt and pepper, then served at room temperature added a wholesome sweetness. Shredded duck breast, pan seared, skin removed then fried crisply as cracklings was the protein of choice in this wintertime treat. Shallots lightly sauteed in the rendered duck fat, and dried cranberries reconstituted in a bit of hot water mixed with brandy were the final, crowning achievements providing complexity and an added richness.

Lightly dressed with a Dijon vinaigrette, emulsified with both walnut oil and a flavoring of duck fat (it was there, come on now, you knew I would use it!), this salad wasn't actually ascetic-- but it was definitely delicious.