It’s probably an overstatement to say that fall is my favorite time
of year, because I’m sure I say that with the arrival of every new season.But, it is a pretty amazing time in the Pacific
Northwest ―especially this year, with the absolutely spectacular display of
fall colors awash everywhere you look. Out in the fields, farmers are busy taking
advantage of the warm sunny days and chilly nights; this perfect scenario has
set them scrambling to take full advantage of optimum harvest conditions.
A recent visit to support local Herrick’s Farm inspired me to take
a step beyond selecting my usual generic pumpkin carving variety and to venture
into lesser known heirloom territory. The farm was abuzz with the activity of screaming
school kids all in the throes of Halloween excitement. Their holiday spirit was
so infectious I joined in the clamor and proceeded to wrestle down my own gnomish
looking pumpkin.
Based on its sheer ugliness―and high baking
praises―I trundled off with a 10-pound prize, a warty blue/green affair affectionately
called Sweet Meat (a gourd in some
circles). Only at Halloween would something this creepy
appear even vaguely edible.
By early the next day I had serious plans for this pumpkin. Armed with my largest chef’s knife and a glint in my eye, I tackled the gnarly behemoth.
I stabbed through its thick reptilian-like
skin and hazily hacked it into manageable pieces.I pulled out its slimy seeding system and set
it aside.Then I placed its meat in a deep roasting pan,
poured in a thick layer of steaming hot water, sealed it with foil, and baked
it until fork tender, about 1-1/2 hours.
Meanwhile, I sorted through the plump seeds, gave them a good cleaning
and dispatched them to a solitary brining solution for later roasting.Finally, I gathered up the assorted pumpkin
detritus and stealthy eliminated it ―all into that vast pumpkin graveyard.
Once out of the oven and cooled, the meat easily peeled away
from its skin and was ready for a quick turn in the food processor. In short order, the processor’s pulsing
rhythm had this mass whipped into an astonishingly elegant, creamy, deep golden
elegant puree. Did I mention elegant?
Verily, thou art true to thy
name. O, great pumpkin, thy meat is sweet.
Pumpkin Bread
Most pumpkin breads can require up to 1 cup or more oil or
butter.With the addition of the moist Sweet Meat pumpkin pulp, I’ve used decisively
less fat here.If necessary you can even
reduce the amount of granulated sugar.
The agave nectar provides a sweet caramel flavor that enhances the
pumpkin, but honey will work, too.After
it cools, wrap it well.If you can let this tender loaf rest a few
hours before cutting, it will slice like a dream.As a
variation, I sprinkled about 2 tablespoons streusel between the layers of
batter and added a bit more on top of the loaf before baking.
Ingredients 1/4 cup softened butter 1 Tbsp. olive oil
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. agave nectar (or honey)
1 cup Sweet Meat pumpkin pulp (or other)
2 eggs
1 cup all-purpose flour
¾ cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. salt
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. each ginger and allspice
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.Line and spray a 9x5” loaf pan.
In a mixing bowl, beat butter and sugars until
light; beat in the agave syrup, then the pumpkin; when combined beat in the
eggs one at a time.
In small bowl, combine the dry ingredients and gently
stir into the pumpkin mixture.Spread into prepared pan and bake for 60 minutes
or longer; until it begins to pull away from the sides of the pan and the
center is cooked. Cool on rack for 10 minutes before removing from
pan. **Stay tuned for possibly unfolding
episodes of Pumpkin Passion.
What is it about crumpets that makes them so
endearing? For the longest time these stodgy stepsisters of the elegant English muffin were hard to find, even unavailable in many American markets. Perhaps the food marketers theorized, "Why bother, we have English muffins, don't we?"
Crumpets from TastyDays.com
Once sampled, I was completely charmed by crumpets’ dense satisfying
yeastiness. They evoke in me a peculiar
primal yearning that must harken back to ancient days of yore and early gobs of comfort
food.Best described as a spongy cross between
a pancake and a biscuit, these heavy lumps of air-specked dough surely lodge in the intestinal tract for days ―maybe
years.
Crumpets' air of mystery could come from the special
props required to make them.As with the
luminous pan for the lofty kugelhopf, or the shell-shaped molds
for classic madeleines, special metal rings hold the batter/dough in place on a
griddle until crumpets are set and firm enough to cook on their own. I toted a set of rings around for years and finally sold them at
a yard sale - in their original box.Truth
be told, I was more thana little
intimidated by the cooking process. My fears were quelled recently when the cheeky
video, “The Great British Crumpet” from Titli’s
Busy Kitchen, popped up on YouTube.In
her version, Titli manages to de-mystify the formidable art of British crumpet
making.
It looks like fun, I
mused, but what about the rings? In my pantry, I eyed two cans of tuna fish and sensed I had a close enough match.Why did I need six anyway?Titli
gets by quite nicely with only two rings.
Forewarned:the tuna cans
did not work.Bumblebee has
re-engineered their cans with a curved bottom edge, making them far too
difficult to cut open with a manual can-opener.Fortunately, Dole pineapple has not seen the need to do so. I moved
on―with one ring. The batter-like dough
came together in a bubbly gooey mass and filled the ring mold, just like Titli's.That’s where the similarities ended.Even with adjustments to burner heat, the interior
of the crumpets lacked their characteristic large holes and remained soggy when
sliced.
Of course, that didn’t stop me; I finished the cooking process in
the microwave.While steaming hot, I
slathered a slightly shrunken version with butter, and proceeded to burn the
roof of my mouth devouring it―but ready to test the next.One ring worked well with this method.Unfortunately, my rhythm did not allow time
to document my findings.
Who knows when next I will be tempted to try again? I’m still
digesting the last batch. For future reference, here's my working copy of Titli's recipe:
Proof the yeast with ½ cup warm water and sugar until it bubbles,
about 10 minutes.(My option; Titli combines all liquids here and proofing was very slow.)
In a large bowl combine the yeast mixture, the milk, remaining
water, and the salt.Whisk in the flour
until the mixture is smooth.Cover and
let rise in warm place until light, about 1 hour.
When ready, in a small bowl combine the baking power with about
2 tablespoons warm water and stir into the dough.
Preheat non-stick pan with flat bottom over medium heat and spread
the muffin rings thoroughly with butter.When hot place, butter the pan, place the rings in pan and fill each
with ½” to 3/4” full.Reduce heat to
medium low to avoid burning.Allow to
cook undisturbed until the muffin rises and surface is filled with bubbles
(like pancakes), about 10 minutes.Run
knife around the edge to release and turn to toast second side, 1 minute or
longer.Wash the rings, butter again,
and repeat.
Peeking through arched
porticoes, we get haunting glimpses of the past as the desolate interior walls continue
to reverberate and whisper of the lives of those who lived here long before
us.
There’s a museum located
in the old convent now, but some of the grounds are in ill-repair and unavailable
to the public.
During the day, the plaza is abuzz with activity.Buses swarm past, regularly depositing loads
of commuters into the fray.Locals make their
regular pilgrimage to church while spates of vendors hawk their wares in colorful
stalls.
Amongst the purple jacarandas
and the plaza’s famous thorn trees, the air takes on the aromas of tortillas toasting,
corn roasting, and other mouth watering treats that appeal to the locals,
passing shoppers, and to tourists.
You don’t have to be a hopeless romantic to fall in love with
this plaza.
Now that I have a few preliminary caveats out of the way, I
confess, I love this dish ― in all its shrimpy peanut buttery glory. The bitterleaf was a bit of a stretch, so I
blanched a nice bunch of kale and cut it into bite sized pieces. I channeled my Caribbean cooking days and
asked what they would do? Why, add a
little thyme, of course! I’m glad I
added the second poblano pepper along with a good hit of cayenne because they
stand up to the dose of ginger and garlic. In fact, the stew would not be same
without kale or other assertive greens; to make up for the missing ‘bitter’
element, a splash of lime on the finish supplied a prerequisite
brightness. Who knows, it may not be totally authentic, but
it is completely outrageous―and I will be making it again― soon.
Right, I also took a few liberties with the fufu. After reviewing a
flight of how-to-cook and eat fufu
videos on YouTube, there was no way I was going to swallow my fufu without tasting it. I’ve included a Dutchvlog clip worth viewing on an authentic
Ghanaian approach to making FuFu with
plantain and cassava, which further supports my position on making fufu: it needs to be tasty.
Consequently, I opted for
what my grocer calls white yams, something that looks suspiciously like a blonde sweet potato (unlike the rough skinned African variety). I used my food processor to begin the fufu event and to add the butter, salt
and pepper; then the yams were returned to the straight sided cooking pot where I
continued to pound them unmercifully with a wooden spoon until they relented and
formed a springy cohesive ball.
Inspired by: Just Food Now, “African
Spirit: The food of Cameroon. Just Food Now”.
500 ml dried bitterleaf (or 1 large bunch kale, collards, turnip greens, or spinach)
1 lb
cooked shrimps (size of your choice, I used small)
2 green
onions chop
3 clove
garlic, divided
¼ tsp
cayenne (or more)
3 Tbsp
olive oil, divided
1 large onion,
chop
1 green
pepper; or 2 poblanos, if available, seed and chop
2 tbsp
fresh ginger, grated
1 tsp
fresh thyme
3
tomatoes, peel and chop (or 16 oz. diced canned tomatoes, drain and save liquid
¾ cup
natural peanut butter, (extra-crunchy works well), approximate
2 cups
water, approximate
salt and pepper to taste
juice of 1 lime, or to taste
If using dried
bitterleaf, soak it overnight; drain in the morning and press out the excess
water.
If using kale,
collards, or turnip greens, wash the greens, remove spines, chop them,
and simmer simmer in a pot of boiling water 3-5 minutes, until the greens
begin to become tender. If using spinach, wash and chop.
Marinate the
shrimp: combine the green onions, 1
minced clove garlic, and 1 Tbsp. olive oil into a thin paste and toss with the
cooked shrimp. Chill until needed.
Add the peanut
butter, the greens and additional liquid to thin if too thick. Cover the pot
and continue simmering until greens are tender, another 10 – 15 minutes. If dry, add additional water, a little at a
time, as needed.
Operatic is not a word I would often use to describe pizza, but it's accurate for a recent effort. This is worthy of writing Wolfgang Puck - if he’s still creating pizza. Perhaps it tastes so good because I haven’t had pizza for a while, but I doubt it.
It’s true; I do love a good pizza. When my children were growing up, our idea of a big night out was pizza followed by ice cream. In those days, I considered the crust only a vehicle to carry the toppings. I would often nibble on the toppings and leave the crust behind. When I began making my own crust I had to reconsider this behavior; if I’m going to all the trouble of making my own, I might as well eat it. Plus, it no longer resembled cardboard; it was tasty!
It all began with fresh chanterelle mushrooms given to me by my friend Lee, the great forager. He returned from his favorite patch near the coast with more than he could handle, if that’s possible.
Visions of chanterelles danced in my head all day as I mulled over my dinner prospects. They are a rare treat, and I wanted them to shine; to pay homage to the chanterelle’s slight fruitiness, I imagined them with pork and a flavorful pepper. Yes, I recalled I had wheat pizza dough in the fridge ready to go. Also, I had my standard stash of Romesco sauce, the one with roasted red peppers, garlic, and smoked Spanish paprika.
On the drive home I was beyond ready for my "mushroom" pizza. But first, I’d make a quick stop at my favorite deli and consider the ham offerings. Once inside, I eyed the imported prosciutto and danced an inward jig over a few lovely paper-thin slices. Oh, yes, just enough. In my head I did a quick inventory: I surely had some type of cheese that would work, but I'd best pick up a few Nicoise olives. That's it. This was not the time for a garbage pizza - or the gentle chanterelles would be utterly lost.
At home, as I built my dream pizza, I stayed true to the plan and only further embellished it with thin rounds of poblano peppers - no onions. I was ok with a mild meltable Muenster and an aged Asiago cheese. I even nixed further flavorings; the herbs in the mushrooms were plenty pronounced.
I was absolutely right. The wheat crust offered the slight sweet nuttiness that not only provided the perfect vehicle for the toppings, but elevated it to an integral member of the team. The Romesco was smoky with an earthy sweetness riddled with garlic. The meatiness of the mushrooms was balanced and lightly brightened by the citrus and herbs. The few olives gave a rich accent of winey fruitiness. The Muenster offered the mellow cheesy gooey-ness I was looking for, and the Asiago was the crowning touch with its golden crisp nuttiness.
What can I say without ranging into double superlatives? All of these players blended into one triumphant melody line, a chorus for our stars, the elegant chanterelles and Prosciutto. Together, they soared and hit flavor notes previously unheralded. What a classy pair.
Chanterelle and Prosciutto Pizza
The Mushrooms:
3 cups chanterelle mushrooms, brushed clean, trimmed, sliced
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
2 cloves garlic, smashed
1/2 lemon, juice of
salt and pepper to taste
2 teaspoons fresh thyme
1 teaspoon savory
1 tablespoon chives
The Pizza:
1 recipe whole wheat pizza dough, prebake pizza dough to set but not brown
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup Romesco Sauce , approx. (see recipe), or favorite pizza sauce
1 poblano pepper, seeded, thin rounds
1/4 cup Nicoise olives, pitted, sliced
1 1/2 cups muenster cheese, shredded
2 ounces Prosciutto, approx.
1/2 cup Asiago Cheese, or Parmesan, grated
Prepare the mushrooms: In a saute pan heat olive oil and butter, add the smashed garlic cloves and add to pan and allow to become aromatic. Add the chanterelles and toss to soften, 4 to 5 minutes; add the lemon juice and toss, add salt and pepper and toss. Add the fresh herbs and heat briefly; allow to cool, and remove the garlic cloves.
Heat oven to 475 degrees. Place pre-baked pizza crust on pan, and brush lightly with olive oil. Spread Romesco or pizza sauce lightly over top. Sprinkle the pepper rings evenly, add a layer of muenster cheese, then top with mushrooms, olives, and the Prosciutto. Finish with remaining muenster and Asiago or Parmesan.
Bake approximately 10-12 minutes or until bubbly. Cut and serve hot. Serve 4 ~~
Since I’m taking more food from home these days, I’m on the lookout for items that transport well and are not boring sandwich fare. I like the idea of tasty, compact, easy to manage portions that haven’t turned into mushy globs by the time I'm ready to eat.
A Breakfast Braid from Cooking Light magazine recently met my picky criteria. Similar to a stromboli, it is pizza dough that's pressed or rolled into a large rectangle; the middle third is layered with scrambled eggs, sausage or ham and cheese, and then the outer thirds are cut into strips and folded over the center. The braid is brushed with an egg wash and then baked until golden brown. It worked so well as an easy weekend breakfast that I packed up slices and toted them with me during the week.
The potential for creative fillings is endless: anything that works on a pizza - and more - will work here. In terms of convenience, it doesn't get any easier than wrapping up a fresh slice - and you are ready to go!
Stuffed Braid Inspired by Cooking Light magazine Jan/Feb 2010
1 recipe pizza dough, 14 oz. purchased or see index
2 tablespoons butter, divided
1 cup ham, diced
1/4 cup green onions, chopped
3 eggs, divided
salt and pepper
1/2 cup mozzarella or Monterey jack cheese, shredded
1/4 cup cheddar cheese, shredded
2 jalapeno peppers, seeded, and diced
Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Spray or oil a large baking sheet.
On a floured surface, roll the dough into 15x10" rectangle.
In same pan, heat additional tbsp. butter, lightly beat 2 eggs and 1 yolk with salt and pepper (reserve the third egg white for egg wash), add to pan a scramble until curds form; do not overcook. Remove from heat.
Evenly sprinkle the mozzarella cheese lengthwise down the center 1/3 of the dough; top with the eggs, then the ham, the cheddar cheese and then the jalapenos. With scissors cut the 2 outer sides into 1" wide strips toward the center to within 1/2" of filling. Fold the strips at an angle alternating over the filling. Beat the egg white with 1-2 tsp. of water and brush over the dough. Bake 15-20 minutes or until golden brown. Let stand 5 minutes before cutting. Yields 6-8 ~~
It was only a matter of time.
Now, I’m asking, “Why did I wait so long?”
We are talking about popovers. I think my resistance to the possibility of popovers had a lot to do with their quirky and mysterious do's and don'ts that in my mind translated into too much work and too much risk for too little reward. Cooking them in a greasy hot pan only to watch them rapidly deflate seemed neither productive nor exciting.
On the other hand, I am deeply intrigued by anything that's mostly egg, milk, flour, and a little butter. There’s something utterly basic and perfectly satisfying about this combination that places me immediately in my comfort zone.
When Cook’s Country aired a recent PBS program on No Fail Make Ahead Popovers, they had my attention and yet I didn’t want to wait around for my next roast beef to make it happen, so I set the recipe aside.
It took a big pot of Black-Eyed Pea Soup on the heels of the popover program that would create the right conditions for the possibility of popovers to finally register. I had planned to bake a pan of cornbread but was short on cornmeal; in a fit of inspiration I pulled out the popover recipe and gave it another look.
Very much along the lines of crepes the batter is whisked together, and then it rests a bit before baking. Of course by now, the prerequisite popover pans that I held onto for years are long gone, but I’m assured that my muffin pan will work just fine. The batter is poured into the greased and floured tins, baked in a hot oven until the popover structure is set, then the heat is reduced and they bake in a slow oven until firm, crispy and brown. They are then poked with a skewer, returned to the oven to remove any persisting moisture, poked again, and allowed to cool slightly. Beyond an investment of about 2½ hours I had nothing to loose.
Actually, the 2½ hours passes quickly--because the popovers become their own entertainment. One of the rules in popover baking is not to open the oven or they may collapse; another rule. This is one of those times when an oven window and light are just about essential. In very short order the popovers begin to brown lightly and the edges set inward. As if watching flowers unfurl and blossom, they begin to balloon out and expand upward. Mesmerized, all eyes are glued to the oven door. It’s an amazing sight from which I could hardly pry myself away.
As the popovers rise and begin to set, an egg-y pancake-like aroma ebbs over the kitchen. I’m imagining how great these would be for breakfast: make the batter ahead… in the morning slide them into a hot oven… get my day organized… and return for the popover climax. The smell alone would surely draw the most unconscious out of bed.
Every word of Cook’s recipe turns out to be true. They do not collapse, and they heat up beautifully. Beyond that, the interiors have a warm eye-rolling custardy texture and outside they are lovely, crisp and tender. I pulled out the black cherry preserves--but apple butter, marmalade, strawberry or any other favorite jam would be worthy of these delights. Suddenly, the possibilities appear endless. Bet you can’t eat just one.
3 eggs, room temperature
2 cups milk, warmed
3 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled a bit
2 cups bread flour, or all purpose
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
In large mixing bowl, combine flour, salt and sugar.
In separate bowl, whisk eggs until foamy; whisk in butter, then the milk.
Whisk 3/4 of milk mixture into the dry ingredients until smooth and no lumps remain; then whisk in remaining liquid. Transfer the batter to a large measuring cup for easy pouring and let stand 1 hour. Can be refrigerated and brought to room temperature.
Adjust rack to lower 1/3 of oven; preheat to 450 degrees. Grease 6 popover tins or 10 muffin cups with vegetable shortening, dust with flour. Whisk batter lightly to recombine then pour into tins, filling almost to rims.
- Bake until they begin to brown, about 20 minutes; this is important because they can fall if not firm at this point.
- Without opening oven door, lower heat to 300 degrees and bake additional 35-40 minutes, until golden brown all over. Remove from oven and poke small hole in top of each with a skewer.
- Bake about 10 minutes longer, until deep golden brown. Remove to wire rack and poke again; cool 2 minutes and turn out. Serves 6-10, depending on size.
Note: once completely cooled, they can be stored at room temperature in zip lock bag for 2 days. To serve, reheat for 5-8 minutes in 400 degree oven. (I've microwaved individual servings about 1 min., they puffed up nd were excellent.)
Recently during a conversation with my daughter I was teasing her about being partially made of Hollywood Diet Bread. While I was pregnant back in the 60’s, my body experienced a complete reversal, and tragically I could not bear to be around food. The idea of it, let alone the smell of it -- made me miserably sick. I was one of those rare pregnant women, who instead of gaining too much, lost weight.
Fortunately, early on I discovered that two slices of toasted Hollywood Diet Bread, along with a couple of soft boiled eggs would soothe my queasy stomach and perk me right up--it was just about all I could keep down! It became quite the joke-- even a pregnant woman could loose weight on Hollywood Diet Bread! Nevertheless, I loved being pregnant and I associate this bread with fond memories. Since it holds a very special place in my heart I’ve always liked having a loaf salted away in the freezer--for those moments of nostalgia. Sadly, over the years it has become increasingly difficult to find.
When I mentioned this to my daughter, she suggested that I should try making my own. Huh, what concept. For those who may have missed this venerable institution, Hollywood Diet Bread was hailed for having only 46 calories per slice—plus it contained carrots, sea kelp, cabbage, and other mysterious vegetables and healthful ingredients. In spite of all these additions, it had a light texture, was mild tasting and surprisingly satisfying. Mostly, I remember one key element: the characteristic sesame seeds on top.
With that in mind, I went to work on this seriously daunting challenge, and I’m pleased to report my first results in developing an updated version of this beloved bread. Based on my incredibly high expectations, the loaf turned out amazing well! The texture and crumb are that of a fine sandwich loaf, the flavor is mild, well balanced with a slight sweet nuttiness from the wheat and sesame seeds. I’m still a bit puzzled by the color which is caramel with a faint tinge of green. Some might find this questionable, and it could be adjusted by deleting the kale, but since I like everything else about it, why mess with a good thing? I suspect the color of the loaf will be affected by the type and size of vegetables included. Note that I used one medium plum tomato; a larger one may make all the difference… or maybe a beet…
What I do know, is that I feel like an old best friend is back--with a face lift! I think I’ll try another piece...
Final wrap: This is a very easy loaf to make since it is a no-knead dough that beats about 7 minutes in the mixer. The vegetables need to be cooked and pureed, which is key to the success of this bread. For speed, I used the microwave and was done in a flash. A quick pulse in the blender with the rest of the liquids and you are ready to go.
Harvest Wheat BreadMy version of “Hollywood Diet Bread" 1 envelope yeast, rapid rising 1/4 cup warm water 1 medium carrot, chopped 1 medium plum tomato, chopped 5 medium kale leaves, or comparable spinach, or other green leaf, chop 1/2 stick celery, chopped with leaves if available 1 tablespoon parsley, or other mild herb 2 tablespoons brown sugar 1/4 cup vegetable oil 1 egg, divided (save about 1 Tbsp. egg white for glaze) 1/2 cup milk, or other liquid 1 1/2 cups wheat flour 1 1/2 cups enriched white 1 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon sesame seeds
In mixing bowl, sprinkle yeast on top of water and let stand about 7 minutes until it begins to bubble. Spray a 9x5" loaf pan.
Microwave the carrot and tomato until soft, 2-3 minutes. Add kale, celery, parsley and sugar and microwave until kale is wilted, another 2 minutes. Allow to cool briefly and puree the vegetable mixture in blender along with oil, egg and milk. There should be about 1 2/3 cup of this thick mixture.
In mixing bowl, add the flours, salt and vegetable mixture to the active yeast. Combine all and beat for about 7 minutes until it forms a shaggy dough. Scrap into loaf pan and smooth evenly with floured fingers if necessary. Cover with plastic wrap, sprayed; let stand until it reaches the top of the pan, about 1 hour. Meanwhile preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Make a glaze with reserved egg white and about 2 tsp. water. Brush the top of the loaf with the glaze and sprinkle evenly with sesame seeds. Bake about 45 minutes until it is nicely browned and has pulled away from the pan. Remove from pan and cool on rack. Makes 1 loaf ~~
The lovely tall arched blossom wands of my lavender plants have been winking and waving at me lately with their most seductive “come hither” look. It’s their last hurrah of the season and they want to be memorialized, not left high and dry.
In that spirit, I went online and visited a few of my fellow food writers and bloggers to see what they were doing with lavender. Over at http://www.seriouseats.com/, an Italian Lavender Honey Spice Cake caught my attention; I’ve always been a sucker for French honey spice cake. Another promising idea for Lavender Syrup, came from http://www.cafejohnsonia.blogspot.com/.
Lavender honey is luscious, but not this time around I mused; so why not create lavender syrup and drizzle it over the cake after it is baked? Thus, evolved Prune and Fennel Tea Bread Laced with Lavender Syrup, a dense loaf scattered with dried plums and toasted hazelnuts. It's a far cry from the Lavender Honey Spice Cake, but it was my starting point, and I appreciate the impetus. However, it is similar to the honey cake in that it improves with age. If you can bear it, wrap the loaf tightly and let it rest in the fridge a day or two to allow the flavors to meld; it’s well worth the wait. Try it in the afternoon with a cup of Earl Grey Tea.
I have some thoughts on Lavender Syrup. Lavender is known for its therapeutic and medicinal qualities, and can become seriously intense when overdone. This particular syrup is well balanced and intoxicatingly mild. It’s so enjoyable, that I have concocted a refreshing cooler which takes advantage of my current supply of Lavender Syrup: in a glass, muddle 1-2 Tbsp. Lavender Syrup and a sprig of mint, add ice and top it off with Sparkling Water with Lemon Essence.
Prune and Fennel Tea Bread Laced with Lavender Syrup 1/2 cup prunes (dried plums), about 10 large, seeded & lightly chop 1/4 cup hazelnuts, chopped, toasted 1 tablespoon fennel seeds, toasted 1 1/2 cups flour, optional: substitute 1/2 cup wheat flour 1/2 cup cornmeal 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon allspice 2 large eggs 2/3 cup sugar 2 tablespoons butter, melted, cooled 2 tablespoons olive oil or vegetable oil 1/2 cup yogurt, or sour milk 1 teaspoon vanilla or almond extract 1/2 cup Lavender Syrup (see below)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 9x5" loaf pan.
Combine prunes, nuts and fennel and set aside. Combine dry ingredients thru allspice and set aside.
In a mixing bowl, lightly beat eggs, then whisk in sugar until light. Whisk in melted butter, then the oil. Stir in 1/3 of the dry ingredients, then 1/2 of the combined yogurt and vanilla. Stir in another 1/3 of the dry, then the remaining milk and vanilla. Add the final dry ingredients and the fruit and nut mixture. Spread into loaf pan and bake 50-60 minutes until golden and pick inserted comes out clean.
Let the loaf stand briefly, then poke the loaf with a skewer. Slowly drizzle the syrup over the loaf. Let stand 10-15 minutes to allow syrup to soak in and remove the cake from pan. Cool on rack.
Wrapped well, this cake improves with age; if possible, allow the flavors to blend at a least a day or two.
Lavender Syrup Inspired by cafejohnsonia.blogspot.com 2 cups water 1 cup sugar 2-3 tablespoons lavender leaves or flowers dash vanilla extract
Bring water and sugar to a boil, stir to dissolve, and simmer to thicken slightly, about 30 minutes.
Add lavender to syrup, remove from heat and let stand about 15 minutes; reheat to just below boiling point again and let stand about 15 minutes, repeat one more time, remove from heat and stir in vanilla; allow to steep until cool. Strain into bottle. Add a clean long stem of lavender for decoration if desired. Store in fridge. Let stand a couple of days before using.
I was invited to attend a birthday celebration for my 87 year old neighbor this past weekend and wanted to bake Alice a small treat for her enjoyment later. I also needed to return recently borrowed camping gear to another friend and wanted to take along a little thank you gift for her, too.
Gift loaves of Blueberry Hazelnut Bread came to mind, since I’m still dealing with the balance of my last blueberry picking foray. Oregon blueberries are compact little morsels that aren’t terribly sweet, and to compensate for that, I wanted to add another ingredient that could offer up a little more natural sweetness and moisture. In my recipe collection, I found a cleaver idea: crushed pineapple.
Frequently, sweet breads can be loaded with oil--which I find completely unnecessary and unimaginative. Applesauce has long been regarded as a beneficial and handy substitute for some of that excess oil; so, why not pineapple? The only caveat I might offer, is to drain the pineapple well; if you add some of the lovely pineapple liquor, do so sparingly, because the batter thins quickly.
When making blueberry muffins, I like the gentle addition of a tiny bit of nutmeg.Here instead, allspice is used, which is the heavy hitter in the nutmeg spice spectrum—and is a true and loving companion to pineapple.These flavors are instrumental in Caribbean cuisine, so perhaps this is also a slight homage to an idyllic month long stay in Grenada, the heart of nutmeg and allspice country.
Quick breads are by name, easy to create; I used a mixer, but a good whisk would incorporate the eggs and sugar just as well. In the past I have made similar breads to round out luncheon plates, and the slight sweetness of fruit bread is the perfect accompaniment with a chicken or seafood salad. However, if you are baking a stand alone tea bread for general snacking, a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar added to the granulated sugar will give a slight bump in the sweetness.
Since these were gifts, I finished the loaves with a drizzle of confectioner’s sugar thinned with lemon juice. After they were cooled and firmly set, I wrapped them in colorful plastic film gathered up and tied with raffia bows.
As a footnote, the loaves were a huge success. I spent the afternoon with Alice’s friends and family experiencing my first ever Bunko phenomenon – a spirited dice game, where one moves from table to table lured by laughter and high stakes. I carried home a bite-size chocolate bar as one of the top three winners.Now, I feel as if I am firmly planted in Oregon.What’s next, Bingo?
Blueberry Hazelnut BreadThis slightly sweet bread is good with luncheon salad—chicken or crab. Inspired by Elizabeth Terry’s Savannah Seasons
2 1/2 cups flour 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon allspice
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
4 eggs
1 cup sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup crushed pineapple in natural juice, drained
1/2 cup hazelnuts, toasted, chopped
2 cups blueberries
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray with oil, two - 6 cup loaf pans.
Sift dry ingredients. In mixer, beat eggs with sugar until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the oil and vanilla and beat well, and stir in the dry ingredients.
Fold in the pineapple, nuts and berries, and pour into pans. Bake 1 hour, turn out and cool on rack before slicing with serrated knife. Yield: 2 loaves ~~
The lovely tall arched blossom wands of my lavender plants have been winking and waving at me lately with their most seductive “come hither” look. It’s their last hurrah of the season and they want to be memorialized, not left high and dry.
