Baking, Sunday style

After weeks of a heat that turned once-lush lawns to straw, this past Sunday dawned misty and gray. A constant drizzle pattered its way through the leaves, and the mercifully cool air smelled of damp earth.

It was a day to spend indoors, in the comfortable routine of business about the house, getting bits and pieces in order and lazily flipping through the weekend newspapers. By far, my favourite sort of day.

As far as food went, our menu was decided by consensus - following only our inclinations without worry of schedules or agenda. Immediate and extended family members stopped by for a cup of of tea, a chat or general diversion.

Some time in the early afternoon I caught wind of collected whispers, mentioned cravings for something as a snack, a cake perhaps. Nothing decadent, just a nibble of something a bit sweet.

Banana bread; this old fashioned loaf seemed the perfect fit for a rain-soaked Sunday afternoon. Studded with moist chunks of banana, their richness undercut by the acid twang of yogurt, this was the sort of loaf that sits on the counter with a knife nearby. For the remainder of the day we snacked, coming back for another slice, another crumb, whenever temptation arose.

Yogurt banana bread
This recipe yields a meltingly moist loaf with a cake-like texture. However it may look though, do not be fooled. This bread is not the overly sweet, dessert variety. The perfect partner to coffee, it is much more subtle in its charm.

Ingredients
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3 large, ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 cup well-drained yogurt (see note)
4 1/2 ounces unsalted butter at room temperature, plus more for greasing the pan
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup firmly-packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly butter a standard, 9"x5"x3" loaf pan.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, salt, baking powder and spices.

In another bowl, mix the yogurt and banana together until well blended. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the butter and sugar on medium speed, scraping down the sides of the bowl, until light and fluffy. It should take 3 to 4 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, with the mixer on medium speed and beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla and beat to combine.

Add half the flour mixture to the butter, beating on medium-low until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add the bananas and sour cream, beating until distributed. Add in the remaining flour, still stirring on medium-low until just combined. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan.

Bake in a preheated oven for about 1 hour and 10-15 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean the bread pulls away from the side of the pan. Cool in tin for 10 minutes, then turn out to a rack to cool completely.

Makes 1 loaf.

Notes:

• I used well-drained 1% yogurt.
• For the loaf pictured, the pan was the darker metal kind. For that reason, I reduced the oven temperature by about 15 degrees F to keep the exterior tender and golden. If this is the case with yours, you may need to adjust the cooking time accordingly.

Easter parade: portraits of a long weekend, part two

Buttery, sweet and absolutely the definition of indulgence; cinnamon spirals from the bakery at Springridge Farm.



Potato and egg tarts
My own recipe. Based upon baked eggs, crossed with a hash brown craving. Think of these as Pommes Anna for breakfast. See notes below for tips on the potato crust.

Ingredients
1 1/2 tablespoons butter
1 large Yukon Gold potato
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon minced fresh thyme leaves
1 tablespoon minced fresh flat leaf parsley
2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1 medium shallot, minced
1 teaspoon minced garlic
4 large eggs
2 teaspoons cream (heavy or half and half)

Preheat oven to 450ºF (230ºC).

Melt butter in a small sauté pan. Set aside.

Using the slicer attachment to a food processor or a mandoline, slice the potatoes thinly. Transfer sliced potatoes to a large bowl of cold water. After letting them soak briefly, drain in a colander and then pat dry with kitchen towels.

On a baking sheet, brush the bottom and sides of two 4" non-stick round spring form pans, or ring moulds, with butter. Arrange the potato slices in a concentric circle to line the pans, beginning from the outside in to the centre (see note). Brush lightly with butter and season with salt and pepper.

Cover with a round of buttered aluminium foil and bake in the centre of a preheated oven for 20 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for an additional 10 minutes, or until the potatoes are cooked through and the edges are lightly browned.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine together the herbs and Parmesan cheese. Set aside.

In the same sauté pan used for the melted butter, sweat the shallot and garlic over medium heat until translucent, about 10-12 minutes.

Divide the shallot mixture between the two pans. Carefully crack two eggs into each mould (you may want to use a separate small bowl to crack the eggs into first, then transfer them to ensure you do not break the yolks). Sprinkle over the herb and cheese mixture, spoon one teaspoon of cream over each and season well with salt and pepper.

Return to the oven and bake for 12-15 minutes, until the whites are cooked and just set. The eggs will continue to cook after you take them out of the oven, so take this into account when looking for doneness.

Allow the eggs to sit for approximately 1 minute. For the springform, use the tip of a butter knife to loosen the tart from the sides of the pan. Release the spring and use a wide, offset spatula to remove from bottom. If using a ring mould lift entire tart (with ring) to serving plate with spatula, then remove the ring.

Serves 2, best eaten immediately.

Notes:
• When cutting the potatoes, you will need them to be just slightly thicker than paper thin. The slices should be pliable, but still retrain their shape.
• Assemble the potato layer starting from the outside in; bend the slices to come up the side of the mould and form your concentric circle working towards the middle. Overlap each slice, and each circle, so that you have completely sealed crust. A bit of egg may still seep though; if the spaces are small this will bind the tart together rather than create a mess.
• Thin strips of ham or cooked turkey can be added to the shallot mixture. Alternatively, the cooked tart can be served with smoked trout or smoked salmon alongside.

Cooking for mummies

In my enthusiasm to detail the ways our Benjamin has changed how we eat, I neglected to mention that he has had a profound effect on what we eat as well.

Experiencing food through a miniature set of taste buds has even further ignited my desire to try new flavours; offering variation on the plate as well as the palate. I am much more aware of the colours of food, the textures and the interplay of tastes. I am happy to play Navigator to Benjamin’s Explorer of the culinary world.

Surprisingly enough, these travels have lead me back to well-trodden trails of an old favourite. And so I must sheepishly admit, I now eat the same breakfast almost every day.

It is true; while my son and dear husband will be offered a virtual smorgasbord of options, I will contentedly cuddle up with a cup of coffee and my most humble bowl of breakfast. And what is in that bowl? Oatmeal.

Up until recently I do not think I had made oatmeal, as oatmeal, in years. My last remembrance would be my eight-year-old self and those packets of instant oats that promised to make “a hot cereal lover out of me.” Since then, while I almost always have had oatmeal in the house, it was usually relegated to my baking cupboard - destined for crisps, crumbles, cookies and crunchy granola.

Let me explain how I came back to this taste of childhood. It all started over the winter, as Ben was further expanding his food boundaries. While he was all too happy to nibble and munch a myriad of tastes through the day, his little belly seemed happiest with a comforting brekkie of oatmeal each morning.

As many parents will surely know, beyond being food provider, we are also the designated cleanup crew. So when there was any cereal left over, it became Mummy’s breakfast too. Warming and filling on those cold mornings, I started making enough for us to share. Benjamin happily watching from his chair while I stirred the bubbling pot on the stove, baby babbling about his dreams from the night before and his plans for the day ahead.

Mummyhood has brought about a greater interest in my own health, as I want to make sure that I can keep up with an ever mischievous little man. I have found my bowl of oats, along with long term heart-health benefits, gives me more than enough energy to make it through my daily toddler wrangling.

But lest you think I am boring, I do offer a pantry cupboard full of garnishes. Dried cranberries and blueberries add mouth-puckering tartness; Demerara sugar brings textural sweetness; cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom offer heady aromas and depth of flavour.

Simple and satisfying, yet offering a complex world of possibilities. What a happy discovery.

Oatmeal with sultanas and spice
The warmth of spices comes up in a scented cloud as they cook; a moment of aromatherapy before a busy morning. Paired with the throaty sweetness of plump sultanas and honey, this is a favourite combination of golden goodness. With an eye on nutrition, I have also included a sprinkling of bud-style bran cereal.

Ingredients
2/3 cup water
1/3 cup milk
1 heaped tablespoon sultanas
1/8 teaspoon (a good pinch) cinnamon
2 green cardamom pods
pinch salt
1/3 cup whole-grain oats
1/8 cup bud-style bran cereal
Honey, to taste

In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the water, milk, sultanas and spices to just under a boil. Add the salt. Stirring, sprinkle in the oats and cereal.

Reduce the heat to low. Cook, according to the package instructions.

Remove cardamom pods if desired. Spoon oatmeal into serving bowl, drizzle with honey to taste. Serve immediately.

Serves 1.

Notes:
• If you prefer a more pronounced cardamom flavour, slightly bruise the pods with the heel of your palm to release their black seeds. Add these, along with the husks, to the water and milk as directed. If you, like me, read the paper while eating breakfast, keep an eye out for the seeds when eating.
• For a creamier version, increase the amount of milk and adjust the water accordingly.
• Slivered pistachios with figs (dry or fresh) is also a frequent favourite.

Idol worship

I was recently watching a biography on Nigella Lawson and was surprised to hear about the controversy surrounding the title of her book How to be a Domestic Goddess: Baking and the Art of Comfort Cooking. Though I may be behind the times to discuss an almost six-year-old debate, at the time I had been unaware of the outrage expressed over her title.

Long story short, some reviewers took the title rather literally, believing that it implied a throwback to pre-feminist ideology. Nigella’s proponents jumped to her rescue, declaring the statement to be facetious; a cheeky attempt at irony.

While an admitted Nigella fan, I will not take this opportunity to defend her humour. Instead, casting aside the trappings of gender roles, I pose a question - is it, for a female or male, terrible to wish oneself worshipped for a job well done?

On the field, in the classroom and around the conference table, we are taught to perform to the best of our abilities. And there are goals to which we choose to aspire, without thought of apology. Why should it be any different in the domestic realm? Is it not one of the most basic, and somewhat noble, desires to want to be able to provide delicious food for those you love?

As much as there is art in the culinary world, there is also basic skill. Some behaviours are learned and it is a talent that can be improved. There is effort; frequently resulting in sweat and sometimes dissolving into tears. Anyone who has ever attempted a holiday meal for family and friends can surely attest to that.

It is in light of this struggle that I will proudly show off my collected burns that decorate my hands and forearms, the nicks on my cutting boards or the scorch marks on my pots and pans. I have survived the trial by fire and come out with feast fit for celebration. Truth be told, I would fully expect the display of these war wounds to illicit an appropriate amount of fawning attention from my loved ones.

With imminent adoration in mind, I happily face the Saturday morning request from my dear Sean - pancakes. Quite content, you will most often find me padding about in fuzzy slippers and spatula in hand, lazily flipping cakes and feeling rather pleased with myself.

Over the years I have played with recipes, striving for perfection and finally settling on one which seems to meet the criteria. Most recently, our bundle of boy, Benjamin, has started stealing nibbles (no syrup, of course). Two clean plates, two toothy grins and two rounded bellies is praise enough for my efforts - and I feel blessed enough, indeed.

I would like to dedicate this post to my dear, dear friend Michèle, a goddess in her own right.

Spiced pillow pancakes
With the subtle warmth of spice floating up from the pan, these fluffy cakes offer some wintertime aromatherapy. It hardly needs saying, but these call for nothing less than a drizzle of your best amber maple syrup. One apology - I always hate a recipe where you have an egg yolk left over. If you choose, omit the third egg white and reduce the flour by 1/4 cup. You will, of course, sacrifice a bit of lift.

Ingredients

2 3/4 cups all purpose flour
4 tablespoons golden or brown sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon (a good pinch) ground cardamom
3 egg whites
2 egg yolks
2 1/2 cups milk
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
6 tablespoons melted clarified butter, plus more for cooking

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and spices. Set aside. In a small bowl beat egg whites until soft peaks form. Set aside. In a third bowl, whisk together the remaining wet ingredients to combine.

Add the egg yolk mixture to the dry ingredients, stirring until just dampened. Some lumps are a good thing here; you are not going for a perfectly smooth batter. Add a dollop of the egg whites to the batter and fold to lighten. Once fully incorporated, fold in the the remaining egg white. Again, I do not mix to fully combine; the batter should be striped with white and tan at this stage.

While the batter rests, preheat a non-stick or cast iron griddle over medium heat. Lightly brush with melted clarified butter if desired. Ladle about 1/3 cup of the batter onto the pan. Cook until the edges become dry and bubbles begin to form in the centre, about 2 minutes. Flip and cook on the other side until golden and puffed, about another 2 minutes. Remove to a platter and keep warm in a low oven if needed. Continue until all batter is used.

Makes 20 pancakes, serving about 6.

Notes:
• Vegetable oil can be substituted for the clarified butter.
• Grated apple can be added to this batter. You may need to adjust the flour accordingly.
• If looking for ease of cleanup and perfectly-portioned cakes, use a spring-loaded ice cream scoop instead of a ladle.

Reality bites

Aside from some cursory mentions and to answer specific questions, I have rarely felt the desire to write about this site on this site. Maybe it was because it seemed too self-referential, or maybe it is because I enjoyed the romantic notion that my writing was part of a conversation rather than a post on a computer screen; either way I always felt better in ignoring the technicalities of food blogging and website management.

However, due to a technical glitch, I have had to republish certain articles from my archives. My day has been spent resurrecting old posts, my eyes now sore from scanning old files and rearranging templates.

Since I enjoy the illusion that hides the work that goes into the site and my writing, I must admit I do believe that many of us subscribe to a similar fantasy in regards to the lifestyles behind food blogs. While I can only speak for myself definitively, I am sure that there are others who would admit that not every dish that graces our table is camera-ready, or that every meal eaten out is from a starred restaurant.

How very fitting it is then, that while rooting around for some files to reconstruct the archive I came across this picture for a Mixed Berry Ricotta Fool. A dish made up completely of odds and ends from other dishes featured here, it is a good dose of honesty - I mean, how often does one mention, let alone write about, the humdrum reality of leftovers?

Not every meal I cook is meant for publication; most days (especially in these last few months) I have not been able to enjoy the luxury of planning multi-course meals or experimenting as much as I used to. More often than not the focus of my cooking is to resolve the grumbling of stomachs and the solution lies in whatever is in the fridge. Far from glamorous I know, but closer to the demands of the everyday.

I will admit though, as much as I can recognize this actuality, I have little desire to write or dwell upon it. As shallow as it seems, I would like to continue my daydream that every author behind every site I read is living an utterly fashionable life, that every city is exciting every day, that almost every meal is a success, that any failures are dealt with aplomb and are simply fodder for a rapier wit.

But please do not draw back the curtain on the dirty dishes and take-out meals and the midnight snacks of saltines and peanut butter. While I do believe a good measure of self-awareness and accepting oneself, leftovers and all, let's not go overboard.

My apologies to subscribers of this site for old posts appearing on the site feed. I hope you don't mind the trip down memory lane.

Mixed berry ricotta fool
My own creation. Luscious, yet light, this recipe delivers a perfect balance of flavours and texture.

Blame it on lack of sleep (an infant will do that to you), but while I have the photo, I have no recollection of where I put the exact recipe. The following are estimations.

Ingredients:
1/3 cup of mixed berries
3 tablespoons ricotta
Honey, I believe I used about 1/2 teaspoon, but go with your taste depending on the tartness of the fruit
1/8 teaspoon vanilla
A few grates of lemon zest (optional)

Crush the berries with the back of a fork or in a mortar and pestle to form a coarse purée.

In another bowl, combine ricotta, honey, vanilla and nutmeg (if using). Fold the berry mixture through the ricotta, until marbled well but not completely blended. Check for sweetness and adjust honey if needed.

Spoon on slices of baguette, scones or to top waffles and pancakes.

Serves 1.

Notes:
• Omit the lemon zest and use a few grates of nutmeg for a background note of spice.
• Alternatively this fool can be mounded on split strawberries for a quick snack, multiplied to fill prebaked tart shells, in a napoleon of puff pastry, or between layers of sponge cake. It also makes a simple summer dessert when served in a cup with shortbread or sugar cookies alongside.

Plain January Jane

The grey days of January have settled in, and I’m just about ready to wrap myself up in flannel, hunker down and coast my way through the rest of the month. I’m in no mood for fancy; I want goose down, cuddly sweaters and angora socks.

On that same note, there are foods that fit this mood. Without fanfare, they routinely deliver. Simple and to the point, these wallflowers of the recipe file are perennial favourites, but not always the life of the party.

Such is the case with these muffins. Reasonably healthy and utterly flavourful, they offer up a great sense of accomplishment after only a modest amount of effort. Truly, if you can produce warm baked goods in less than 10 minutes of prep time, do you not feel rather smart? I say, all the more time to spend cozied up with that goose down.

While some plans may prevent me from participating, I encourage everyone to check out Sugar Low Friday, hosted by the ever-fab Sam of Becks & Posh. The one-time event will be held on January 27, 2006, details to be found through the link.

Banana-Cranberry Bran Muffins

Ingredients
1 1/4 cups (300 ml) unbleached all-purpose flour (you can also use whole wheat)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt (2.5 ml)
1/4 cup canola or vegetable oil
1/3 cup honey or granulated sugar (or up to 1/2 cup if you prefer sweeter and depending on the bananas)
1 egg
1 cup (250 ml) milk
2 ripe bananas, mashed
1 1/2 cups (375 ml) flaked bran cereal
1/2 cup (125 ml) dried cranberries

Preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Lightly grease a 12 cup muffin tin, or line with cupcake liners.

In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt.

In another bowl, whisk together egg, honey or sugar, egg, milk and bananas. Stir in cereal. Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just blended. Stir in cranberries. Divide evenly among prepared muffin cups.

Bake for 20 minutes, until a tester inserted in the centre of a muffin comes out clean. Leave muffins in tin to cool for 2-3 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely (or serve hot).

Makes 12.

Notes:
• These muffins do not rise a lot while baking, and so are more like little flat-topped cakes. If you prefer a larger, domed muffin, I would recommend dividing the batter between 6-8 muffins instead. Be sure to space them evenly in the tin and adjust the cooking time accordingly.
• A raisin bran cereal could also be substituted, as could fresh or frozen berries. Frozen berries will colour the batter a bit, due to their juice.
• Depending on your bananas, you may find you need to hold back a bit of the milk. I usually use between 3/4 cup and 1 cup.

A taste of the past

This is my entry for the "Childhood Memories Meme", fulfilling my obligation to both my dear friend Michele of Oswego Tea and the utterly creative Caryn of the engaging Delicious Delicious.

When I was tagged for this meme, I was surprisingly stumped for ideas. It was not because I was at a loss for material, because goodness knows my love of food started early on in life, but because I realized that I have taken for granted many of the flavours and culinary adventures that brought me to where I am today. In the end, this has been an interesting exercise, forcing me to take stock of those memories — and reminding me of how lucky I have been.

My father’s sandwiches
My father is a man of precision. He is a man that is always busy, always working and puzzling the best way to solve a problem or the next task at had. I have not always appreciated this drive (especially through my lazy teenage years), but the results were never a disappointment – whether it be a dollhouse, or a bridge for our backyard stream or his famous sandwiches. My father’s attention to detail was especially evident in the latter; he is known in our family as the designated sandwich maker, with staunch philosophies on fats (butter or mayonnaise), condiments (we had an armada of mustards in our fridge), proper seasoning (salt and cracked black pepper) not to mention breads, vegetables and accompaniments … the list went on and on, dependent on the time of year and the specific fillings in question. Every layer was pondered over, each addition placed just so, and in an order for optimal blending of flavours. Indeed, the phrase “this is the best sandwich ever” was an often-heard refrain around our house and through our extended family.

My brother and I still carry on his traditions, becoming sandwich-maker designates in our own homes and with our own burgeoning armies of mustard jars in the fridge. A few years ago, I beamed with pride when my father, fresh from the garden where he was working on a new project, sat at my parents’ kitchen table, leaned back and asked “Tara, can you make me a sandwich?”

Scalloped potatoes
I did not discover scalloped potatoes until I was probably around six or so. And when I first ate a spoonful of that creamy, buttery, wonderfully comforting mass, I was immediately lost. To me, they were culinary perfection; studded with chives and with a brown crust on top, this was elegance personified and so much more chic than boring old mashed potatoes. I was in such raptures that I seem to remember eating them for days straight afterwards - sitting with a soup bowl, filled to the brim with scalloped potatoes, a tablespoon in my hand and a grin on my face.

Burger King’s Bacon Double Cheeseburgers
I do not even like Burger King, but as a child this was the holy grail of hamburgers. Having an older brother, I was the typical thorn in his existence who wanted to do what he did, and eat what he ate. Easily swayed by the fanfare of mid-80s advertising, the advent of the Bacon Double Cheeseburger seemed a gastronomic epiphany. My brother, a bacon lover, was allowed to have them on the rare occasions we went out for food. I, on the other hand, was relegated to the children’s meal cheeseburger, which I deemed vastly inferior. In his charity (or I may have stolen a bite) I first tasted the ambrosia that was the grand burger. Ironically enough, my brother is now a vegetarian, and I do not believe I have had one since.

My mother’s stuffing
Growing up, festive occasions meant one thing, and one thing alone – my mother’s potato stuffing. In high school at a friend’s house for Thanksgiving, I was taken aback at the idea of bread stuffing. It had never occurred to me to have a different type of stuffing, because who would want anything other than the crusty, savoury delight of my childhood? With a mix of chunked and mashed potatoes, filled with onions, bacon, liver, and confidently seasoned, it was the highlight of the holiday table, the most coveted of the leftovers. As you may have guessed, I am a big fan of comfort food, and in my mind you cannot get more classic than this.

My grandmother’s scrambled eggs, pictured
It was through my maternal grandmother’s Anglo-Indian background that we were taught the merits of a hearty shepherd’s pie, the wonders of a proper roast with Yorkshire puddings and the melting lusciousness of ghee-soaked chapattis. Thoughts of her food inspire instant nostalgia, and her eggs are no exception. Stirred patiently over a low heat or a double boiler, they are closer to the texture of curdled cream than to their diner counterparts. She swears by the last-minute addition of butter, insisting it ensures a tender result.

My grandmother’s scrambled eggs
Truth be told, I have never measured an ingredient when making these eggs. These are just guidelines, but truly, this is a recipe that falls into the “pinch of this, a splash of that” category.

2 eggs
1/4 – 1/3 cup of milk (or cream, if preferred)
Salt and pepper to taste
2 teaspoons butter, divided
1/4 cup of finely minced onion
2 teaspoons torn cilantro (or parsley, if preferred)

In a bowl, whisk together eggs, milk and salt and pepper. Set aside.

In a medium non-stick frying pan over medium heat melt one teaspoon of butter and sweat onion for about 2-3 minutes, until translucent and soft but without colour. Pour in eggs, swirling pan to distribute evenly. Cook for 30 seconds or so, until edges are starting to set. Using a silicone spatula or wooden spoon, pull edges of cooked egg towards the centre, forming curds. Continue stirring slowly, repeating process until the eggs are starting to set – it will resemble lumpy custard. At this point, beat in remaining 1 teaspoon butter and torn cilantro. Continue to stir, until eggs are almost finished, similar to the texture of a soft ricotta.

Serves 1.

Notes:
• If I'm feel patient, I'll cook over medium-low for more control.
• Snipped chives can also be used in place of the cilantro, or use a mix of whatever herbs you like.
• I adore these eggs on a grilled ciabatta bun (as pictured). The soft interior of the bread the perfect match for the soft eggs, and the crust provides the right amount of chewiness.

As this meme is getting a trifle old, I’m only going to tag three participants – who hopefully are still untagged.
Chubby Hubby
The Domestic Goddess
Delicious Days