And I crumble

Cheer up! Those winters winds can't blow much longer. The sun is in the shine of the air. The farmers' markets have started up again! The first weekend I went made me feel as sheer and sparkling as the bundles of cool, crisp greens that screamed with aliveness. I left with tiny turnips (their greens are, bar none, the best), an unruly bunch of purple mottled mustard greens (that choked my nostrils with their fiery fumes) and, perhaps best of all, the last two bags of Jerusalem artichokes of the season (and only $2 a pound!!).

The next weekend there was rhubarb(!), more turnips, sticky raw honeycomb and some unusual Japanese greens breaking into bright yellow flower. I like going to the market, saying hello. The honey vendor was having an existential crisis as to whether he ought to follow in his father's beekeeping footsteps. The guy who sold me the rhubarb had me pegged when he said I was going to make a crisp with it. He wasn't wrong. I already had the topping waiting for me at home, in the fridge. 

My favourite crumble topping. Bold words, but true. I've used it over and over and over again and I never disagree. The first time I followed the recipe to a T - topping apples and pears with its nutty, buttery, chocolatey rubble. Next I made a Spring version using my rhubarb and some frozen blueberries. Once the whole shubauble was in the oven I worried that pecans and pistachios, grassy quinoa and tangy chocolate wouldn't wear well with my chosen fruit. But it turned out just fine, and I spooned it up outside, as is proper, bouts of warmth upon my face interspersed with chill winds down my bones.

I think it might work with anything. On Easter Sunday I covered a pie with it - rhubarb and blueberry again. (That rhubarb was mighty hard to procure! Back roads and half a dozen grocery stores later, David's mom finally found some. Good thing! David, his Dad and I were walking around the community gardens at Colony Farm and nearly every plot had a towering rhubarb plant. I was itching so badly to break off just a little stalk here and just a wee one there.) There were even more deviations that day - almonds instead of the normal nuts, half quinoa and half buckwheat flour, more oats due to a teff flour shortage - but again, the same stupendous results. The crumble pebbles whatever you place underneath it and it is impossible to pick out what is tart, what is chocolatey, what is crunchy. How can something burst with so much character? Sometimes, after I've pinched it all together into rich clumps, I slowly lick my fingers and smile. Even raw it is fantastic! It's the bee's knees, the best of the bunch.

My Favourite Crumble Topping
From La Tartine Gourmande

I'm only including the directions for the crumble topping here. Use it with whatever bottom you like - in a crumble, a top a tart or pie! I'm not giving directions for that business because you can be your own boss there. Keep in mind though that the original recipe had you bake the crumble at 375 F. Don't chop the nuts too finely or they might burn.

3/4 cup quinoa flour
1/4 cup teff flour
1/4 cup old-fashioned oats
3 oz. (85g) dark chocolate (70% cocoa), coarsely chopped
1/4 cup (40g) pecans, coarsely chopped
1/4 cup (40g) unsalted, shelled pistachios
pinch coarse sea salt
1/4 cup (50g) blond cane sugar
1/4 cup (50g) demerara sugar
7 tbsp (105g) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

Combine all the ingredients except the butter. Work the butter in using a pastry cutter (okay), a fork (alright) or your fingers (best!) until a coarse crumble forms. Use as desired.

Makes enough for 6 individual (1 cup) crumbles or 1 pie.


P.S: You may have noticed (and if you haven't you will now) that there is a (new!) recipe index for your perusal!

Pretty in pink (or orange)

Ha! Reading over this entry just before I post it, I think two things:

A. Another waffle recipe!?!

B. This is all to say I friggin' love that juicer.

Let's start at the beginning:

I made an awesome milkshake the other day. It had plump strawberries, still in a July state-of-mind, lemon sherbet, fossilized from August, a splash of milk that claimed to have expired and, for some real mouth feel, half a banana. I ate the other half smeared with peanut butter in between spoonfuls of that frothy pink milkshake. It was viciously cold - like when you're biking down a hill in the rain, or what you thought was rain, when suddenly these solid, sharp objects start scraping your face and you realize it's not raining anymore, it's snowing or hailing or something, and chunks of freezing water are hitting you harder and faster, and there's nothing you can do about it but grit your teeth and slide the slants of your eyes shut and hurtle down the hill. Yeah, it was like that. I got an awful brain freeze but the thing was, this milkshake was so delicious, I didn't want to stop eating it. That's why I alternated it with bites of peanut-buttered banana. That worked alright until I finished, at which point my internal organs began to seize. I violently shivered at each traffic light on the way to work. Amazingly enough, it was warm there that day - I barely needed my long johns and toque! Speaking of long johns, I was wearing mine when I drank that milkshake and I couldn't help but notice how their purple bled into my pink sweater which perfectly matched the pale blush of it. See:

Then I realized I've been making a lot of pink things. Like beet and quinoa pancakes. The recipe (which came from a new cookbook that has been exciting me and simultaneously not meeting my expectations) said to roast some beets then puree them but since I have a juicer (la de da) I thought I'll juice 'em all! Good call. It saved me a whack of work. The batter was a lovely colour and the pancakes turned out fluffy and slightly sweet. I ate them with smoked herring, goat's milk yogurt and a kohlrabi/apple slaw. Sour cream probably would have been better. As well as time to actually enjoy my eats. I seem to have a problem getting to work on time. Still, they were tasty buggers and, as I frantically pedaled to work, I was hit with this overwhelming sensation of, well, it's hard to describe. I simply felt great. Not just great, amazing! Wonderful!!!

The next morning I used the rest of the batter but the pancakes didn't rise as much. I ate them with toasted walnuts, maple syrup and blue cheese that I had mashed with a bit of milk and yogurt. Nigel Slater would probably call these a "lurid" pink but I don't care. I love beets, I love pancakes and I LOVE pink!

I was all set to give you the recipe for those puppies when Monday, oh Monday, rolled around. (And look now, it's already Saturday!) I made carrot and corn flour waffles. See, these waffles actually precipitated the advent of the juicer in our lives. I wanted to make them but didn't want to buy carrot juice because it's full of preservatives and it's expensive. I hounded David to ask his friend Jacob if we could borrow his juicer indefinitely and Jacob, very sensible that we were trying to hijack his juicer for all time, said no. Shortly thereafter, David found a juicer at Value Village and scooped that baby up! With carrot juice at my disposal, a heaping bag of corn flour in our burly, black storage bin and a morning together, these waffles were happening whether they liked it or not. I think they liked it.

We liked them. They were marvelous. Golden and bright, sun and citrus. A match to our morning with signs of spring bursting out left and right, birds going ape-shit with their twerping and heat, such heat! After eating ours with thick coconut cream, goat's milk yogurt, orange syrup, orange slices, banana chunks, kiwi-tart tamarillo, oh and maple syrup too, it was unanimous: These are the best thing I've made yet from this new cookbook! 

Carrot and Corn-Flour Waffles

Adapted from Good to the Grain

1 1/2 cups corn flour

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 /4 cup plus 2 tbsp wheat germ

1/4 cup dark brown sugar

1 tbsp baking powder

1 tbsp ground ginger

1 1/2 tsp kosher salt

1 cup plus 2 tbsp carrot juice  

3/4 cup coconut milk, well stirred before measuring

3 tbsp unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled

zest and juice of 1 orange

2 eggs

Dig out your waffle maker, plug it in and start pre-heating. 

Sift all the dry ingredients into a large bowl, pouring back any bits of grain or other ingredients that may stubbornly stay put.

Whisk all the wet ingredients together in a medium bowl until thoroughly combined to a creamy orange colour. Pour the wet mixture into the dry and use a spatula to gently fold the two mixtures together. The batter should be thick and pillow-like, with large pockets of deflated bubbles on the surface (or so says Boyce). 

Scoop about 1/2 cup batter onto the middle of your waffle iron, clamp down the lid and cook until your light goes green, or however your waffle maker tells you it's done, about 4-6 minutes.

Eat hot, hot, hot as "the buttery flavour and beautiful crunch tend to deteriorate quickly when the waffles cool". Boyce suggests unsalted butter with maple syrup or a citrusy marmalade. Do as you will.

I would say this makes enough for 4 hearty breakfasters. Rar!

Sunshine and the snow

Oooo sunshine. You are my sunshine!

What's been going on around here?

Well, David found a juicer for our kitchen and I've been loving fresh rainbowed drinks every day. My favourite so far was the first I ever put together - a carrot, cucumber, ginger and lime concoction.

I made this awhile ago:

There were rye berries and a whole whack of other stuff that, unfortunately, escapes me now. I see some cauliflower, maybe some kale? I do remember calling it a "rye berry ramble" though.

I followed a convoluted recipe (for Moroccan Chicken with Carrot Puree) but my way and it was simple and awesomely delicious! I grilled some mutton chops. I got gristle stuck in my teeth and couldn't find any floss in the house. I did a lot of things with oats - chocolate granola and yeasted pancakes, farls and pumpkin seed candy bars. I made a ham, which I can really recommend, because of all the jokes you get to make. I fell in love with delicata squash. I got excited about baking with interesting, whole-grain flours (barley and teff, quinoa and rye). None of the muffins I baked met my expectations but I am still excited about interesting, whole-grain flours. I tried barleywine and had a Japa Dog, finally! I ate lots of fresh things from our weekly "box" and I started really, truly, cooking whatever I wanted.

I thought Spring was here but February is a fragile month.

There was a lot of snow, suddenly.

But it melted and now the sun shines again. March is here!


What's been going on around there?

One for the ages

This salad is quite simply sublime. It's one for the ages! Imagine potato salad and coleslaw getting married in the Mediterranean. There's heady olive oil, whispers of crunchy fennel, beams of juicy citrus, a generous scrape of garlic. It is hearty yet incredibly refreshing and ridiculously easy to eat. So that I remember:

Fennel, Potato and Orange Salad

From Casa Moro

3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

1/2 tsp sugar

1 garlic clove, crushed to a paste with a smattering of salt

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

750g firm, waxy, small salad potatoes, peeled, unless very small

4 navel oranges

2 small fennel bulbs

1/2 red onion, very thinly sliced

a handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

 

Whisk the olive oil, vinegar, sugar and garlic together. Season with salt and pepper. 

Place the potatoes in cold, salted water and bring to a boil. Simmer for 10 to 20 minutes, depending on the size, until tender. While the potatoes are cooking, prepare the rest of the salad. 

With a small, sharp knife, preferably serrated, cut the rind and pith off the oranges, keeping the fruit whole. Slide your knife along either side of each segment so you are left with supremes. Check out this video if you're confused. Add to a large mixing bowl. 

Remove any damaged outer leaves from the fennel, then cut in half lengthways. Using a mandoline or sharp knife cut each half into thin slices, no more than 5mm (a bit more than 1/8-of-an-inch) thick. Place in the mixing bowl, along with the onion and parsley leaves. 

Drain the potatoes and when they are cool enough to handle, slice into rounds no more than 1cm (about 1/3-of-an-inch) thick. Place on top of the other ingredients in the mixing bowl. Pour over the dressing, season with salt and pepper, mix well, taste, adjust and eat.

Serves 4.

I like this bread

 Yes, I do. Doo do doo do doo do do doo. Doo do doo do doo do do doo.

So much that I was compelled to insert some Lou Reed-esque rhythms into this ramble. 

Also, we got a knife magnet rack thingy. It's pretty great as well.

This, my current favourite of homemade breads, was adapted from one of my favouritest of recipe writers - Martha Rose Schulman. I was first introduced to her by chance, when I borrowed Great Breads from the library in preparation for a serious wedding bread baking session. We kneaded some beauties (and some sluts), shuttled loaves from oven to oven, and smoked cigarettes that increasingly delirious night. While some recipes (cough, Jamie, cough, Oliver) gave us trouble, all of Martha's worked beautifully.

Any bread baking I did at home took a back seat when I started working at a bakery. Why bother when you can get something approximately one billion times better every day, and for free? But now that my bread line is cut off, I've begun the baking again. You know what? It's nice. I reunited myself with Great Breads and made a few tweaks to get exactly the kind of bread I craved. I added more seeds, of all colours and sorts, as well as millet and used an egg white instead of a whole egg for the wash. (I hate having to crack a whole egg for that sort of thing. You never use it all!) It gave the bread a slick sheen.

Twas just the sort of bread I desired for slathering with peanut butter, or smashing sardines and avocado onto. Cold pork, split pea and spinach mash, strawberry jam. This baby wants to be covered. A twinge sweet, a bit hearty and a lot crunchy. I don't know what else to say. I like it a lot!

Sesame-Grain Bread

Slightly adapted from Great Breads

For the sponge:

1 tbsp active dry yeast

3 cups lukewarm water

2 tbsp mild-flavoured honey

2 tbsp molasses

2 cups unbleached white flour

2 cups whole wheat flour

For the dough:

1/4 cup white sesame seeds

1/4 cup black sesame seeds

1/4 cup flax seeds

1/4 cup sunflower, safflower or canola oil

1 tbsp salt

3/4 cup flaked or rolled oats

1/2 cup cornmeal

1/2 cup toasted millet

about 2-2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

For the loaves:

1 egg white, beaten, for egg wash

1 heaping tablespoon white sesame seeds

To make the sponge: Dissolve the yeast in the warm water in a large bowl. (I like to rub the yeast with my fingers here to coax it into dissolving). Mix in the honey and molasses. With a wooden spoon or large whisk, stir in the white and whole wheat flours, 1 cup at a time. When all of the flour has been added, stir by hand 100 times, changing directions every once in awhile and scraping down the sides; the sponge will be the consistency of thick mud. Cover with plastic wrap and a towel and set in a warm place for 1 hour, until bubbly.

To make the dough: Place the sesame and flax seeds in a mortar or a food processor fitted with the steel blade and pound or process until just cracked. Do not overprocess. Fold the oil and then the salt into the sponge, using a wooden spoon, and turning the bowl between folds. Fold in the oats, cornmeal and millet; fold in the sesame and flax seeds.

Begin folding in the whole wheat flour. After about 1 1/2 cups have been added, the dough should hold together in a sticky mass. Place a large handful of flour on the work surface and turn the dough out onto it. Flour your hands and begin kneading. Knead, adding more flour as necessary, for 10 to 15 minutes. The dough will be dense, but should become stiff and elastic as you knead, with a slightly tacky surface. Shape into a ball. Rinse, dry and lightly oil the bowl. Place the dough in it, turning to coat it with the oil. Cover and let rise in a warm place for 1 hour, until doubled in bulk.

Punch down the dough, cover and let rise in a warm place for 45 to 60 minutes, or until nearly doubled. Generously butter or oil two 9-by-5-inch loaf pans.

To make the loaves: Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Knead a couple of times and divide the dough in half. Press one half into a rectangle about 1-inch thick and a little longer than the loaf pan. Roll up the rectangle tightly, like a sausage, and pinch it together firmly along the lengthwise crease. Rock the  loaf gently to give it a rounded shape. Fold in the two ends toward the centre and pinch the folds. Place in a loaf pan, first upside down, then right side up, to coat with the oil. Repeat with the remaining dough half. Brush the loaves lightly with the egg wash, sprinkle with the sesame seeds and brush again. Cover and let rise until the tops of the loaves curve above the side of the pans, 20 to 45 minutes, depending on the weather.

About 30 minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 350 F, with a rack in the middle. Slash the loaves across the top with a razor blade or sharp knife. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes, brushing halfway through with the egg wash. The bread is done when it is golden brown, and responds to tapping with a hollow sound. Remove from the pans and cool on a rack.

Makes 2 loaves, one for feeding and one for freezing.