CrankyCakes

Well, not crostini exactly since the bread isn’t crisp.  Maybe canape, but they anyway were what I brought to a veggie potluck this week.  I skipped the crisping because I always kind of hate the inevitable crumble and collapse of bruschetta and crostini after you take one bite and before you know it you’re dripping tomato cubes and apologizing to the hostess about the carpet.

Not only was I taking such care of my future co-eaters, but then I felt myself simpering with smugness about being able to combine thawed roasted beets from the freezer, fresh snipped fennel fronds from the garden, a Brie-like goat cheese from our CSA share, and apricot preserves from last year.

Character flaws aside, what’s really nice about these is that they can be an inspiration for all sorts of summer eating.  A piece of good bread, crisped or not, a slice or schmear of cheese, a tart and fruity something on top, and a sprig of some fresh herb or other – lots of possibilities.   I made this version thinking about how the different kinds of sweetness of beets, apricots, and fennel would play with the creamy cheese on baguette.  But you of course will adapt it to use what you’ve got around.

Beet, Fennel & Goat Cheese Canapes
About 25 pieces

Arrange on a platter:

• 25 (or whatever) thin slices of baguette, lightly brushed with
• extra virgin olive oil (you’ll need about 2 T.)

Place on bread:

• 1 slice Caprella, Camembert, Brie, or any soft cheese you like

Set bread aside.

Combine and puree in a blender, or a bowl that will accommodate an immersion blender:

• 1/4 c. apricot (or other fruit) preserves
• 2 T. olive oil
• 1 T. sherry (or other mild) vinegar
• pinch salt
• pinch sugar

Pour dressing into a medium bowl.

Cut into small dice:

• 2 c. worth roasted beets (or plum, peach, apricot, melon, tomato, etc.)

Combine dressing and beets or fruit with:

• 2 T. finely chopped fennel fronds (or basil, lemon balm, nasturtium leaves)

Place a heaping teaspoon of the beet mixture on top of the bread and cheese and top with:

• 1 small sprig of your chosen herb.

It’s that magical time of year, yes:  time to defrost the freezer! And so I’m trying to plan meals around the things that need to come out of said box of frost.   I found myself rooting around in there the other day, and was delighted to find a whole organic roasting chicken in the back of it that had somehow escaped winter meals.

Then I found the last round of root vegetables from a winter CSA pick-up, and had nettles and rhubarb from the farmer’s market, and before I knew it, I had a great dinner coming together, tart and sweet and green.  The rhubarb gets soft and melty, the big chunks of parsnip keep just a bit al dente, and the contrast is really nice.

I almost always make roasts in a clay pot, but you can use any basic recipe (like Thomas Keller’s below).  Clay pot cooking is its own special technique.  It doesn’t result in the same flavor intensity you get from dry-heat roasting, but I love how forgiving it is, and how it helps the other flavors inside the pot meld and transform.

Roast Chicken with Rhubarb, Parsnips & Nettles
4 – 6 servings

• 1 4-ish pound chicken, humanely raised please, rinsed, patted dry, and with any necks or whatever removed from the inside
• 4 – 6 large parsnips, scrubbed, peel left on, cut into nice big chunks 2″ or so
• 4 stalks rhubarb (about 3/4 lb.), washed, leaves removed, cut into 3/4″ pieces
• 1 lemon, organic, washed, seeded, and cut into 1/8′s
• 4 T. olive oil
• 1 t. kosher or other favorite salt
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1 lb. nettles, handled with gloves, rinsed, blanched for 2 minutes and drained very well  (mine were from Half Pint Farm – maybe they’ll have more this week)

If  using a clay pot, prepare by filling top and bottom with cold water and letting sit for 20 – 30 minutes.

Line pot with parchment paper (I was out & so I didn’t).

Mix 2 T. oil, 1/2 salt, garlic, and juice from 2 or 3 slices of the lemon together in a small bowl.  Rub all over the chicken, including under the skin.

Place parsnips, rhubarb, remaining salt, remaining oil in the bottom of the pot.  Place chicken on top, put cover on pot, then place whole thing in the oven with rack in the lower third.  Heat oven to 450 (on my slow oven 475 works better), and cook for 50 – 60 minutes, until juice from deepest part of the thigh runs clear.  Remove top from pot and cook for 20 minutes more, or until nicely browned.  Remove from oven, place chicken on a platter to settle for 10 or so minutes.  Mix nettles into the parsnip-rhubarb mixture in the pan.  Place vegetables around chicken and serve.

Don’t have a clay pot? Here’s Thomas Keller’s Basic Roast Chicken Recipe.  You can do the vegetables on the side, in their own covered dish while the chicken cooks and present them the same way.

We were out to dinner the other night and a friend pulled a couple of crinkly plastic bags out of her purse.  She had a share of a wild-crafting CSA, and declared that she needed some help “appreciating” the coltsfoot and sedum with which she had been gifted that week.

We nibbled at bites, furrowed our brows, and concluded that frying was the answer.  Definitely frying.

Two days later, Z. and I were having our usual Monday at home and it was time for breakfast when I stumbled on the bags in the fridge.  Fritter time.

So I beat together until smooth:

• 2 eggs
• 1/3 c. white whole wheat flour
• 1/4 c. milk
• 1/4 t. kosher salt

And then stirred in a cup or so of the mixed wild stuff.

Then heated up in a large skillet until it was slightly rippling:

• 1 T. butter
• 1 T. olive oil

Then poured the whole mix in, and let it sit until the underside was set and the top was starting to bubble, when it got flipped.

Then I cut it into wedges and ate half of it. It was really good – the coltsfoot has a sort of cumin-like taste that I found delicious.  The sedum tasted most like wilted thick spinach, pretty green but unoffensive.

And this is when the really startling thing happened.  Z. was watching Sid the Science Kid when he started wrinkling up his little nose and said, “I smell something yummy, Mommy!”  Hmm.  I asked if he wanted some.  I gave him a little slice, which he promptly devoured.  And then he ate the rest!  Hardly picking out the greens at all!

Truth be told, I’m still a little stunned.

The spring greens are up and I am a weed-picking fool.  Would you join me please?  Seriously – just go outside and pick a pile of dandelion greens before the flowers bloom and leave thgreens terribly bitter.  Then you’ll wash them very carefully.  Maybe even a soak in a water-bath with 1/4 c. of white vinegar in it.  Keep rinsing and soaking until they’re clean enough for you. (Over here, that was 4 times.)

Then you can go ahead and make yourself a breakfast worthy of a spring celebration.

Dandelion Greens, Potato, & Egg Breakfast, with or without Bacon
Serves 2

Wash repeatedly until clean:

• 4 – 6 c. dandelion greens

If you want to eat bacon, cook until desired crispness and then remove from pan:

• 4 strips of bacon (preferably something excellent like Vermont Smoke & Cure)

• (For a vegetarian version heat 3 T. olive oil until rippling)

Cut:

• 2 large potatoes into medium cube.

Saute in oil or cook in bacon grease over medium high heat, until browned, then cover pan with a lid and cook for about 20 minutes or until done.

Add to pan and cook until greens are wilted:

• those dandelion greens you washed so well
• generous sprinkle of kosher salt
• freshly ground pepper to taste

Scramble and then add to pan:

• 4 large eggs

(Vegan? Mash up and add  1 package of firm tofu instead.)

Cook until eggs are done (or tofu is heated through).  Scramble together.  If using bacon, crumble and mix in.  Serve with your favorite hot sauce.

My mother always seems to be away for her February birthday, which is a pretty sensible reaction to late winter in Vermont, really.

So it was late but at last we got together.  My mom loves Korean food and culture and so I was researching a lunch to build around the kimchi that was newly ready when she left this comment here on the blog:

“I feel faint after seeing your latest post on steamed buns.”

So of course I had to make another round of those, and then since the whole Korean theme was sort of blown, I felt free to improvise a soup to use up our last butternut squash – vaguely inspired by the knowledge that there was such a thing as Korean pumpkin porridge.

It was a nice, nibbly sort of lunch – a couple of the buns, some soup, the kimchi, and then a traditional spinach side dish.  Maybe you too have one last squash from the winter CSA and want to give it a whirl.

Butternut Squash-Lemongrass Soup
4 servings

• 1 butternut squash, cut in half, seeded, and roasted for 30 minutes at 400
• 1 – 2 cups mild vegetarian stock (if you’re using storebought, try the “Better than Bouillion” line, which has less of that overly-processed taste than many do)
• 1/2 c. coconut milk
• 1 t. lemongrass paste (I’m sorry – I used the stuff in a tube!), or else 1/2 t. lemon zest, 1 t. lemon juice
• 1 t. chopped ginger
• salt to taste
• toasted hulled squash seeds for garnish (you should roast the ones you scooped from the squash for a snack, but they’re a little too coarse for a pleasant topping)

Once the squash is cool enough to handle, scoop its flesh and 1 c. stock, coconut milk, lemongrass, ginger, and a generous pinch of salt in a blender or food processor.  Adjust its thickness with more stock if you wish, and taste for salt.  Heat until just at a simmer and serve topped with the seeds.

How often does life remind you of the old New Yorker cartoon of the man sitting at his desk, looking at his calendar and saying “How about never?  Is never good for you?” into his phone?  This is how it feels to try to schedule dumpling-tasting events.  And I do intend to schedule them, because I will honor my pledge to try every dumpling in Burlington in 2010 … no matter how the itineraries of the world try to foil me.

And while I’ve been working to get our next event on the calendar, I thought I’d give steamed buns a try.    The ones we had at Joyce’s were just so very delicious, kind of uber-dumplings, really.  I got a look at a couple of recipes and gave it a whirl.

I almost always find the recipes over at About.com reliable, so I used theirs for the dough.

Then I came across Joyce’s filling recipe, which she had sent me after our visit there:

Mix together in a medium bowl:

• 1/2 lb minced pork meat
• 1 c. finely chopped Chinese Napa cabbage
• 4 scallions, cut into small rounds
• 1 t. salt
• 2 t. soy sauce
• 1 t. sesame oil
• 2 t. chopped fresh garlic (not in Joyce’s recipe, but I felt compelled to put it in)

I found the dough nice to work with by hand, so I skipped the rolling pin and flattened each small piece into discs by hand on a floured cutting board and then placed a spoonful of the topping on each.  (Start with a teaspoonful and work from there.  You won’t get good coverage if you overstuff so err on the stingy side.)  Fold over two opposite sides to meet in the middle and pinch together.   The dough should be sticky enough that it sticks easily; if not, place a little bit of cold water in a small bowl and put a small dab along the edges of the dough.

Pick up the bun, and pinch the open sides together, squeezing all around to make sure you have it well sealed.

Repeat for the remaining dough and filling, keeping the finished ones on a plate or cutting board that’s well-floured.  When all are formed, start water boiling in a steamer.  I am the lucky recent recipient of a big-ass Chinese steamer, but you can use any steamer-insert pot or insert in a pot as long as it’s nice and level.

When the water reaches a boil, line the steamer with cabbage leaves to prevent the buns from sticking.  Don’t use purple cabbage, which will turn your buns blue, and obliterate any chance of your seven-year old trying the buns.

Steam for about 25 minutes.  Don’t peek early and release the nice heat and steam that will have built up.  The buns will be nicely puffed up and the meat will be cooked through when done.

To serve, cut a little slit in the top of each bun, and drizzle a tiny bit of:

• white or rice vinegar
• soy sauce in each.

And I don’t mean to brag, and it may be unrelated, but two days after 4-year old Z. polished off 5 of these, he presented me  with a World’s Best Cooker trophy made of an empty play-do container and a crayon.   Give ‘em a whirl and let me know how it goes in your house.

My delightful and amazing friend showed up a few weeks ago with a duck and a goose for our freezer.  I had last met the birds as cute little fuzzywumps who were making a temporary stop in her condo on their way to the farm where they were to be raised.

Better, more interesting, and more thoughtful writers have written about the contradiction of loving specific animals and eating them.  But not all of them have a 7- and 4- year old to stage impassioned debates on the issue.

The boys asked what I was bringing down to the basement freezer and I told them.  Z. blanched and said, “But that’s TERRIBLE!”  And he started crying and telling me he wouldn’t eat them.   E. said, “Oh, I want to eat them, Mommy.  I’ll eat their … HEADS!”  So while his brother sobbed, I explained that birds usually don’t have heads by the time they get to someone’s freezer, and we trooped downstairs to peer inside the plastic bag at the birds.  E. nodded.   Z. announced that he was going to be vegetarian.

As the boys continued to loudly process their quest for ethical eating, I wanted to plan a meal around the birds.  Then, before I knew it, Valentine’s Day and Chinese New Year’s were about to coincide and we turned it into a little party.  I started thinking about traditional good luck New Year dishes and Valentine’s fun.

I planned on a sort of mock Peking duck, with the overnight approach of steaming the bird and then roasting it with a glaze on the skin.  But when I went to start them: NO SKIN!  I gasped and started scratching my head, saying something that rhymed with, “duck,” over and over.  What was I going to do?  What possible substitute for skin could there be?   Duck, duck, duck, f …

Then there it was: bacon.

So it was on to plan B.  and making a sort of frosting with palm (unhydrogenated, organic, non-saturated) shortening, molasses and sambal oelek, and rubbing it all over the birds before draping them with lots of thick-cut bacon.  Then I roasted them in a clay-pot cooker to keep as much moisture in as possible.

I cooked them for about 1 3/4 hours at 475, which was when faces began to appear from all directions, asking to snitch a piece or two of bacon.  We then carved the meat and served it with:

• Bacon, since there was no crispy skin
• Wheat tortillas brushed with sesame oil and warmed
• Hoi sin sauce
• Julienned scallion greens
• Scallion brushes (If you make this, don’t skip these!  They look great and will make your guests giggly-happy.)

There were tea eggs.  Here are Sara and her lovely daughter peeling them (and Kim laughing at my silly picture-taking ways):

And General Tso’s Seitan with broccoli, with homemade seitan made with Post Punk Kitchen’s excellent and reliable recipe.

My mom brought the unpictured but delicious Beets with Star Anise from Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, and made sauce for Sesame-Peanut Noodles (long noodles are a traditional celebration food because they’re associated with long life).

Dessert was truffles, plus Sweet Rice Cake. I love this dish, but I adore sticky gooey things made with glutinous rice.   Besides being a really endearing texture, it’s auspicious for New Year’s because it’s round, signifying family union, and sweet for a sweet new year, and its name in Chinese is a sound-alike for a sort of good wishes expression.

But there were children to consider, so a Western-style dessert was in order.  In the morning, I had thrown together a vegan orange batter for cupcakes, then realized I had left out the baking soda, which I hurried in right before baking.   That was when I had a first-hand experience with what happens when you over-activate your leavening agent.

So I baked the rest as a cake, which worked better for some reason.  Then after dinner, while the children were acting completely insane and were all past their bedtime, a 10-year old guest and I made our silly piece de resistance, which involved the cake, neon-colored 7-minute frosting, black icing gel, and heart sprinkles.  It was a Tiger’s Valentine’s Cake (about which my assistant made sure to remind guests, “No actual tigers were harmed in the making of this dessert”).

And then we sent guests home with cupcakes and collapsed in a fit of sugar and food and good conversation.

Why you might like to make your own tamales:

• You can put any filling you want in them.
• They’re gluten-free.
• You can find masa harina and corn husks at most grocery stores or food stores now, if you’re not lucky enough to live near Mexican markets.
• They can be vegetarian if you substitute some shortening (organic, non-hydrogenated, palm oil variety if you please) for the lard.
• Alternately, they can be a mad-cap excuse to cook with lard.  When’s the last time you got to do that?  (Here’s what the inimitable Zarela Martinez has to say about lard; and other experts quoted on the subject.)
• A hand-held beater or stand-mixer make the prep nearly effortless.
• They’re so damn good.

Last night we had two gluten-free friends and a vegetarian friend over for dinner.  I whined a little bit about having to come up with a menu to accommodate everyone, but I remembered the masa harina in the back of the cupboard, came across a couple of frozen smoked pork chops from Boucher Family Farm,  and off we went.

Green Chile & Cheese Tamales plus Pork & Green Chile Tamales
Adapted from Zarela Martinez
Makes about 24

• 5 c. masa harina (Want GMO-free masa?  Try Bob’s Red Mill.)
• 3 – 4 c. warm chicken or vegetarian broth
• 1 lb. lard or organic, non-hydrogenated shortening
• 1 1/2 T. kosher salt
• 25-28 dried corn husks, soaked in boiling water for 30 minutes-1 hr.
• 2 c. chopped mild green chiles, divided
• 1 c. shredded monterey jack cheese
• 1 c. leftover pork chops, cooked & cooled thick-cut bacon, or any leftover meat
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• 1 T. flavorful salsa
• 1/2 t. chipotle or chili powder

1. Place masa in a large bowl.  With a wooden spoon, beat in just enough broth to make a smooth dough, about as soft  and pliable as bread dough.
2. In the bowl of a stand-mixer, or in a separate large bowl, beat the lard or shortening until very, very light, about 3 minutes.  With the mixer still on, beat in the masa a large scoop at a time, scraping down the sides as necessary.   If the mixture becomes too stiff, slowly add in a bit  more broth.  Beat until mixture resembles a fluffy frosting.  Beat in salt.
3. Mix together 1 c. chiles and cheese in one medium bowl.
4. Mix together remaining chiles, pork, garlic, salsa, and chili in a separate medium bowl.
5. Remove corn husks from water.  Find smaller ones and tear about 24 wide strips, which you’ll use to tie the tamales shut.
6. Place in front of you with narrower side facing you.  Place approximately 1/4 c. masa lengthwise inside the husk, flattened slightly.  Put rounded tablespoon of filling lengthwise across middle and press in with back of spoon.  Fold the top and bottom ends (those closest to and farthest from you) in.  Fold in the sides, making sure you completely wrap the filling.  If you need to take a piece off another one to cover any openings, that’s okay.  Tie a strip around the middle to keep shut.  Repeat for all, keeping meat and vegetarian separate if it matters to you.
7. Bring a couple of inches of water to a boil in the bottom of a steamer, or a pot into which you can fit a steamer insert.  Place tamales in steamer, and cook for about an hour, until the masa is firm to the touch.  (I always have to open one to be sure.)  Let cool for about 10 minutes and serve.

You don’t need to have much else with these.  We had some beer and a salad with romaine, slivered mango, red onion, and spicy pumpkin seeds with a simple vinaigrette.  Perfect.

This is a recycled picture from Feb. 09. It wasn't any better the first time, eh?

I had to bring E. to the dentist this week for some sort of follow-up appointment.  He decided to go in with the dentist by himself, so I sat in the waiting room watching Z. terrorize the little girl who wanted to share the foam building blocks.  A half hour went by before a hygenist came out to get me and I went back to where my little patient was tilted back in a chair having this weird plastic bubble cemented into his mouth.  That was when I remembered some vague discussion about the alignment of his bottom teeth.   But still: I was flabbergasted!   And I was also nodding and repeating to myself, “poker face, poker face, show children how we roll with punches, poker face, poker face …” as the dentist was telling me my son couldn’t chew, or bite, or consume anything harder than a diced up soft sandwich for the next two weeks.  And said son was trying to kick the dentist and escape down the hall.

“Oh, we’re hoping to avoid orthodontics further down the road?” I brightly asked.  The answer was a gently pitying look.

So we’ll be crossing that expensive bridge soon enough, but the emergency was that I had no idea that I was going to have to make a strict soft food diet, starting right then, at 4:00 on a Monday.  But luckily, though E. has a pretty limited food repertoire, he may be the world’s biggest smoothie fan.  And as he’s been a little obsessed with mangoes lately,  I was easily able to sell him on a mango smoothie for dinner.  And snack.  And breakfast.  I’ve done some quick math to compute how many colors of produce he’s getting along with some protein and healthy fats and concluded it could certainly be worse.

But besides the uptick in blended drinks around these parts, I’ve been amazed to note how my beautiful son who’s so thrown by anything that challenges his plans or routine seems to actually be enjoying the challenge of having this giant plastic thing in his mouth.  He’s celebrating his new stellar underbite with ferocious brother-terrifying growls, gorilla hoots, and many other unidentifiable loud noises.  He isn’t showing any sign that he cares at all that he’s nearly incomprehensible and lisping fiercely.  He even tolerated pizza being cut into tiny little squares for him to eat with a fork tonight.

His little brother has a dentist appointment next week.  All I can say is that I pity the fool who tries any of this nonsense on him.

Mango-Cherry Smoothie
2 generous servings

Put in your blender and blend well:

• 1/2 fresh mango (about 3/4 cup frozen)
• 1/2 c. frozen black cherries
• 1/2 banana
• 1/4 ripe avocado
• 1/2 c. plain (unsweetened) yogurt
• 1 c. milk (we use skim – you should do what you like)

CrankyGreg forwarded this to me from the excellent Instructables website the other day.  Instant ice cream is a delightful problem, and I’d like to make it yours too.

The upshot is that you can make ice cream in your blender if you have frozen fruit in your freezer, and something creamy and somewhat liquid, and some sugar.   Five minutes, and you get good stuff in your very own custom flavors, at the perfect slightly soft consistency for eating.

Here’s the link.  And here’s what we’ve tried:

Blueberry-Eggnog Ice Cream:

• 3 c. frozen blueberries
• 1 c. egg nog
• 1/3 c. sugar (or a little more)

Put it all in your blender and blend until it’s the right texture for you, scraping down the sides as necessary.  As you can see in the picture, I didn’t completely puree it since we some of us are partial to eating the frozen berries whole.

It was awfully good.   Greg, who is no slouch when it comes to the world-wide web, proclaimed it “The best thing the Internet has ever given us.”   E. dove right in and didn’t stop until his bowl was empty and his face, neck and shirt were completely purple.  Z. sat looking at it for 20 minutes or so, kind of mumbling, “Well, I don’t know if it’s going to be yummy.”  But then he decided to brave it, and told me it was, in fact, yummy.

Then the next day after lunch, I thought, “Why stick to those ratios*?”  I wanted something a little sweet after lunch, and had peeled a pomegranate and frozen the seeds the day before.  (By the way, I really thought that the boys would have found picking the seeds from the intricacies of a pomegranate an interesting project.  No dice.)  And I had some leftover canned peaches in the fridge, so in they went to become:

Pomegranate-Peach Granita

• Seeds from one pomegranate, frozen
• 1 c. canned peaches

Blend until chunky-smooth (the seeds keep it fairly grainy).  Eat immediately.

Next, I’m thinking of seeing what happens with those ice-cube-tray blocks of pureed butternut squash and the rest of the egg nog.  I expect good things.

* There is a reason for those initial ratios really.   Frozen things tend to become completely solid without significant amounts of sugar and/or fat.  Because of this, this technique and the suggested ratio is great for things you want to eat right away, but less so for anything that might go in the freezer.