Maple Caramel Apples (Spicy, nutty, choco sweet)

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. No really. Which leads me to some important words of wisdom about picking apples with a toddler.



1. Prepare your child about where apples come from. This is a great time to talk about the birds and the bees. I mean, warn your kid that there will be bees there, and those bees are your friends. Much less screaming will ensue.

2. Explain to your kids very gingerly that cheese does not grow on trees. Sure cheese and apples are a great combo but not one found in nature.


3. Tell them about how apples don’t fall far from the tree. There they are rotten , and scattered all around the trunk of the tree. Sure they make a satisfying squishy sound under your pink boots. But, if you get them all, then what will the next kid picking apples do? Pick apples?

4. Give them some tips on which apples are the rotten ones. Holes are great in Swiss cheese, bowling balls and jack-o-lanterns but not apples.



5. Don’t tell them that the store sells apple cider and apple fritters. They will immediately threaten to unionize with the other children and start a picking strike until given inappropriate amounts of sugar.

From those apples we made Duo of Maple Caramel Apples: Maple Caramel Apples with Cayenne/ Spiced Almonds and Maple, Cayenne Caramel Apples with Curry infused White chocolate to send in care packages for all of the college kids in our lives.  My recipe can be found here.  (They are my entry for the Royal Foodie Joust from the Leftover Queen)

Oh, and turning those apples into caramel apples only gives your children false hope that all fruit and vegetable can be subverted into candy.

Pikelets with Corn, Peach and Tomato Salsa

I am terribly susceptible to suggestion. (This is apparently confession weekend at feeding maybelle).

When I read about pikelets at more than burnt toast, I wanted them immediately. My desire was not born of cultural affinity or childhood remembrance. I had never heard the word pikelet until Bellini Valli posted them. But, the word itself seemed so charming, as if sitting down to the plate makes you a kid again dressed in your fairy outfit. Cynical Anglos and Australians might laugh at my naiveté. But, imagine never hearing of something say a moon pie; what picture comes into your mind?

So back to me and my susceptibility…I just couldn’t shake the pikelets. I woke up this morning and needed them. We used the recipe from Souvlaki for the Soul because it seemed flexible to adapt to both sweet and savory cravings. We topped half with fresh peaches from our CSA and maple syrup for J-- and Belle. For the other half, we paired them with a peach, tomato and corn salsa. As someone who is not super hot on pancakes, I found these pikelets perfect for breakfast—fluffy but neutral in flavor. I am hoping pikelets are the new pancakes in our house.


Recipe:
Peach, tomato and corn salsa

Dice:
½ ripe peach
5-6 cherry tomatoes (I used both orange and red ones)
½ an ear of corn
½ small green chilli pepper

Add
½ - 1 tsp fresh mint

In oil, heat and then add to salsa
1 tsp mustard seeds
5 curry leaves

Toss everything, add salt and lime to taste.

This is also my entry for One Local Summer. The milk is Snowville Creamery Whole, the yogurt homemade; the egg, corn, and peaches from Maple Valley and Sugarbush, the tomatoes from our yard.

Pickled Baby Carrots

Waiting….

Waiting….

You might not realize this but I am a wisp of a person. I hit 5 foot 3 only on days humid enough to give my hair extra lift. I am the sort of gal who can shop in Gap Kids. But husband on the other hand is a bit shy of 6 feet and has the build of someone who played football in high school. (He didn’t—he was an art nerd.)

With each pregnancy, I take on the appearance of a young sapling taken over by an enormous gall. People see me walking around and wonder how I can keep all that baby up. Luckily, pregnancy turns me into a weeble-wobble—I can’t fall down.

With my last pregnancy there was the fear that my body wouldn’t make it 40 weeks as an incubator. Everyone said, oh you will go early; you will never make it your due date; you are having THAT baby early. With Belle, I was a couple weeks early. Not scary early, just early enough to rescue me from the terrible nausea and illness that typifies pregnancy for me.



But as one of those wonderful aphorisms goes, “Every pregnancy is different.” While people are still amazed by my girth—many woman at work have kindly told me that you are HUGE!, this baby shows no sign of budging. I am now just a few days before my due date and after ages of Braxton hicks, I am still just waiting. After weeks of being careful to conserve calories to help the baby, I am imagining taking long walks, eating spicy food and doing jumping jacks to help get things going. But frankly, I am still too nauseous to walk or to do any of those things.

There is another old wives tale about nesting—as soon as you start nesting and are in the middle of things getting settled you go into labor. You basically run to the hospital with the house half cleaned, the mop still in the water bucket.

While I am not one to mop the floors ever (my husband is much neater than I), I thought pickling might be a sort of nesting thing. I don’t mean to say I went through the whole 9 yards and pickled 17 gallons of anything, but I did make a small batch of pickled carrots. Putting things by seems like an age-old form of nesting.



We have plenty of baby carrots from Snake Hill Farm and some homegrown spicy peppers. I wasn’t organized enough to write down the recipe—but basically equal parts water and vinegar, salt, sugar, cumin seeds, homegrown dill weed, and mustard seeds.

This is my entry to One Local Summer for this week and for Grow Your Own hosted by Amy of Playing and started by Andrea of Andrea's Recipes.

It didn’t seem to help budge the baby at all—so I spent the rest of the day standing up cooking. Maybe a fridge full of cheesecake bites will start labor… well, if she doesn’t come I will post those next.

Fennel Bud and Mint Herb Butter on Corn

Belle’s was not having good luck with the animal kingdom this weekend. First there was an unfortunate incident with some fictional birds. And, then Saturday morning, my husband and I realized we had forgotten our CSA basket overnight.

Thanks to the cold rainless summer we hadn’t receive a single share yet. If this had been 1850 we would have starved. (That said, if it were 1850 my husband’s family would be alternating surviving a potato famine, farming rocks in Italy; and I would be eating rice on the west coast of India. But why split hairs?)

So Belle trotted off to the front door with her father to pick up the vegetables. “Mommy, oh look.” and “Bring your camera” were both mentioned after the door opened. The front stoop was littered with the detritus of many a happy raccoon. The fastidious little buggers had cleaned all 12 ears and left the silk, cobs and husks for us to clean up.

It was the final straw for Belle. Tears were spilled, punctuated by the phrase, “those raccoons.”



We decided to run to the farmer’s market to pick up replacement corn. Then we came home, steamed them and topped them with Fennel bud and Mint Herbed Butter. (The adults added nanami—Japanese Chili powder with orange rind and black sesame seeds) Basically combine 5 T of soften butter with 2 young leaves of finely chopped mint and 1 full fennel flower bud also chopped. Finished with coarse sea salt.

Fennel and mint are wonderful herbs as they engender feelings of being a successful gardener no matter your skill, ability, interest or soil. At some point in the summer we completely forget about our fennel, it first goes to bud and then flower and finally to seed. We use all of the forms of fennel in our food. The fronds and buds are definitely stronger an anise flavor than the bulb. We put the buds or the flowers in tossed salads, with roasted vegetables, or in ago to put on sandwiches. (The seeds are commonly used in Indian food.)

That evening, my husband wondered if she was dreaming of hunting them corn-fed raccoons; but I am fairly confident she was dream of the herbed butter that she ended up licking off her plate.

This post is also my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging run by Haalo of Cook (Almost) Anything at Least Once

Chive Blossom Dahi Bhel Puri

I remember standing in the darkened room of a natural history museum gazing at a sliver of a man encased in plexiglass exposed longitudinally from head to toe. I was about six. There in front of me the way that the blood flows through our body was so obvious; the veins were a red-toned web connecting every element of the organism. There were other pieces-parts in the human body display at that museum. The puzzle of organs that fill our abdomens was shown in a transverse cross-section. These displays made the essential inner workings of man transparent.

In the last couple weeks, interchanges with some of my friends reminded me of these anatomy studies. A long lost friend called me to follow up with work. We spoke for a couple minutes about ourselves, carried on our business and parted ways. Belle was running around and chatting with me, so it was easy to mention that I had a 2 year old, but I didn’t fill her in with anything else that had occurred in the last 6 years. What would I say? I am married; I got another masters; I am happy; I still love food; I picked up new hobbies; I got a job; I got a promotion… Our short friendship was finite, in this case, a grad school snap shot of who I was. She had but a transverse shot of me. And, why change that? There is nothing wrong with those sorts of friendships. They are so in the moment and so low on baggage and context.

The week prior when one of my longtime friends came to town, I asked her over for tea. I have known her for 85% of my life. The longitudinal study that is lifelong friendship is all context. The tea was filled with an ease of rapport, fast memories about who we had been, and enjoyable conversation.

Unlike the easily traceable circulatory system, the path of friendship is impossible to diagram or to show in a museum display. What makes friendship last? What makes it strong?


And onto the food…

When she came over for tea, I made one of my favorite snacks, Bhel Puri. The chive blossoms and cilantro came from our garden.

Chive blossoms are an annual bounty in our garden. When you are ready to eat, just give the plant a nice haircut. I don’t think they keep well, so I just leave them in the yard until I need them. To wash them, I spritz them with water and then pat them very gently with a paper towel. They fall apart; accept it. In this case, instead chopping them, I just pulled them apart for use because I wanted them to not only flavor but liven up the Bhel.

Cilantro can go to flower as well, and actually bolts quickly. So, keep the cilantro in check by pinching back. (Though if it goes to flower, then hold off for the seeds and use those in your cooking.)

This post is also my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging run by Haalo of Cook (Almost) Anything at Least Once hosted by Astrid from Paulchen's Foodblog .



Recipe
Chive Blossom Dahi Bhel Puri
In a cast iron skillet, brown:
½ cup cooked chickpeas
2 T red chile

When the chickpeas are cool, add them to:
½ cup boiled potatoes, diced
¼ cup red onion, diced
¼ cup garlic scapes, sliced
¼ cup sliced almonds
½ tsp turmeric
½ tsp cumin (or a bit more)
½ tsp chile powder
½ tsp amchur
2 cup puffed rice
1 cup sev
½ cup chopped chive blossoms

Top with yoghurt, tamarind chutney and cilantro/mint chutney

Caramelized Coconut Lime and Ginger Cupcakes (Egg-free)

Did you ever think that you were so different than your family that you must be adopted? I look so much like my father that perfect strangers have introduced themselves to me because they know him. So, I never thought that I was adopted, but there was one thing that set me apart from my whole family. As a child, I despised coconut. My distaste of coconut was frankly contrary to generations of taste buds.

My family is from the West Coast of India, a tropical paradise of beaches and coconut palms. Coconut is pervasive—used in hair products, religious practice and, of course, in food. Raw coconut is added to sautéed vegetables, ground coconut to curries, coconut oil for frying. As a child, while I didn’t mind coconut when browned and spiced until almost imperceptible, I would not eat it in the raw form. As an adult, I don’t throw a hissy-fit when I see it at the dinner table, but I definitely don’t go out of my way either. For the rest of my family, coconut is what makes dinner tasty.

Are palettes are genetic? Despite my weird coconut hating nature, my daughter loves it. Coconut water, coconut curry, coconut, coconut, coconut. So, the other day, when I promised Belle that she could make cupcakes, I decided to come up with coconut cupcake recipe. The upcoming change in the family has been stressful for Belle and I am trying to make these last few weeks as an only child really enjoyable. I had just read Tartelette mava cake recipe from the Parsi’s of Bombay. It made me remember muggy monsoon summers and fresh bhelpuri with my family. I thought this would be a perfect start to our cupcakes. We made them egg-free just so that in case she got a little curious about the batter, I wouldn’t worry.

I didn’t taste the results, but Belle and her dad loved them. At least we know they are related.

These cupcakes are also my entry for the Coconut and Lime 5 year anniversary. I thought I would enter because I loved her Rhubarb Cupcake recipe when I veganized it last year. I paired my cupcakes with Coconut spice coffee (add a couple tablespoons extra coconut mava, half and half, and cardamom powder to coffee)

Caramelized Coconut Lime and Ginger Cupcakes (Egg-free)
Makes about 16 mini-cupcakes
This recipe was adapted from the mava cakes recipe from Tartelette which Helen received from her friend Bina.

First prepare, the caramelized coconut that is the basis of the flavor for the cupcakes. In the traditional recipe Helen created, she used milk. I used coconut and condensed milk instead.

In a large sauce pan, cook on simmer the following for 45-50 minutes stirring every 5-10 minutes:
1 cans (14oz each) coconut milk
1/3 cup condensed milk
2 T whole milk

It will splatter. Accept that. Put a lid on it halfway to keep the mess to a minimum. When it is a deep brown thick consistency, remove from heat and cool. (I did this in the morning and let it cool until the afternoon.)

In the bowl of a stand mixer beat until smooth:
1/4 cup (100gr) mava, at room temperature
3 tablespoons (85gr) unsalted butter, at room temperature

Add and then mix again:
Ener-G for 1 egg
3 tablespoons whole milk

Add and mix:
1/2 cup sugar
3 T jaggery, pulverized
1/2 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated (use any juice too)
1 tsp dried coconut

In a large bowl, sift together:
1/ 2 cup plus 1 T flour
1/4 teaspoon (2gr) baking powder
¼ tsp lime zest (grated finely)
Sprinkle of dried galangal
pinch of salt

Put the dry ingredients into the wet in two batches. Mix thoroughly. The batter will be very thick. Spoon into buttered cupcake tins.

Coconut and Lime Buttercream IcingAdapted from a recipe from Hostess Blog

Combine in a stand mixer until fluffy
8 Tbsp butter, softened
8 oz cream cheese, softened
2 T coconut milk (super chilled)
2 T lime juice
1 tsp lime zest, sliced into super thin strips

Add 5. 5 cups powdered sugar in ½ cup intervals beating in between

After the frosting comes together:
2 T grated coconut

Top with more lemon zest

Pasta with Roasted Chickpeas, Eggplant, Raisins and Cherry Tomatoes

I think of myself as a cross between affable and exacting. As a mom, I am tough about some things and others I let slide. Belle takes her shoes off in the car; I don’t bat an eyelash. Drawing on the furniture repeated even after time-outs; I throw those crayons out. My mother on the other hand was a softie with me and continues in the same vein with Belle.

For example, I have a no lip-gloss rule with my two year old. Her sitter had wizened her up to the world of make-up and Belle loved what she saw. She began waking up in the morning begging for lip-gloss as if she had slumbered Sephora dreams. At family events, she cried that we allowed her to go out without make up. Seriously. Two weeks ago, I am standing in the apse of a church at a funeral with all of my inlaws. (I mean cousins, aunts, great aunts, second cousins—picture ½ of the Italians in Cincinnati.) I am seriously nauseous; we are singing the first hymn; my two year old is begging me as loudly as she can about lipgloss. So, you say, where does a two year old get lip gloss? Thanks to the fact that Belle is really into showing off her new verbal skills, I learned from her that her source was her dear sweet grandmother. Darn softie.

So, tonight, with J—working late, Belle decided she wanted to move into her big girl room. I made up her new bed with all her animals (8) and blankets (5) from the old room. We read stories, we talked about all of the family members that love her, I tucked her in, and then I reached for the light and the door. This is a routine that works without a hitch in her old room. But, in the new surroundings, I first heard a scream then “No, mommy, no.” Generally, I would have been tough. In the end, I waddled her mattress back to her crib, made it up, and started the nighttime routine again. To which my mother said, you should have just closed the door and let her cry. Go figure?

But, Belle's protestations were different. As I looked into her face, as she stood arms outstretched as she stood sobbing on her new bed, I saw a realization dawning on her face--life is about to change for my little bug. After all the screaming and trauma, I sat down in the kitchen. Life is sure about to be different. I feel like yesterday I was just young and fairly carefree and now I am a suburban mother of two (God-willing.) The banality, repetition and immediacy of existence often prevent self-assessment.

So there I sat in the kitchen, munching on ice to keep down the nausea, pondering what life would be like with two little ones. Dinner was fairly far from my mind.

But, J—would be ravenous after working late (and since he has been doing most of the cooking for 8 months), I decided to make him something. I decided to create a bastardized Sicillian pasta dish that involved little to no work. The result was surprisingly good. I tossed eggplant cut in ½ inch cross sections, whole small button mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, 1/3 head of garlic, and ½ can of chickpeas with olive oil, sea salt and paprika and roasted it at 400 for about 20 minutes (or until brown.) When out of the oven, I turned the garlic into a paste with more salt, olive oil, and balsamic. Tore the eggplant, and then tossed veggies, garlic paste, cooked macaroni, yellow raisins, crushed red pepper and fresh oregano together. Totally delicious. At least my parenting woes did give us something good.

And since this was a presto meal, this is also my entry for Presto Pasta blog event this week hosted by Katie of Thyme For Cooking and started by Ruth of Once Upon a Feast .

Pimenton Potatoes, Spicy Kidney Beans and a Runny Egg for One Local Summer

Hormones might ravage your body and mind during pregnancy, but I feel I must give credit where credit is due. They can also serve to inspire some yummy food combinations. When I was pregnant with Belle, I started to experiment with fruit in savory dishes. Sure those of you who grew up with pork chops and apple sauce were way ahead of me. But, I didn’t grow up with that. It started with plum and duck brochettes a few years ago, made during my pregnancy, and continued all the way to strawberry pizza last year.

So this morning when I woke up with the chorizo runny egg combo from We are Never Full in my mind’s eye, I obediently went down to the kitchen and began to toil away. Chorizo sadly would set my tender stomach on a bender, so I decided to substitute spicy kidney beans. My husband, J--, was not only unconvinced, he was openly mocking (brave, stupid man, huh?). Well, I got the last laugh. He begged me for the last bite of my breakfast.

This breakfast is my first entry about One Local Summer. In Cleveland, we are very lucky to have many many sources for local meat, dairy and vegetables (at least in the summer.) The kidney beans and onions were from the North Union farmer’s market. I tossed them with diced pickled tomatoes from last year’s garden and cilantro leaves from the garden this year. (I did also use cumin, salt and pepper from the pantry.) The runny egg was also local. The potatoes and pimenton, I am afraid, were not local. As a carbophillic, I couldn’t do without, but I found it hard to find a carb that is in season and local. Here’s to an even more local week next week.

Orange and Corn Salsa

Do animals have the terrible twos?

Belle loves birds. Duck was one of her first words. For her first Christmas, we bought her an Audubon bird guide and she was excited. So, this spring, she enjoyed seeing the baby ducklings at the park. In my delicate condition, I felt a strange empathy and connection to the ducky mom. I might have been projecting, but I swear I could see the ambivalence in her eyes. But a few months ago, she was a one-woman show and now all of sudden she had an army following her.

Sure those little duckies were cute, but that adorableness comes at a price. Each little one had its own mind. Two or three babies were the easy going sort; they were amiably picking at the water plants. And, in every family, there are one or two who don’t follow the rules. One was tipping back and forth in a way that would worry me; though of course the ducklings were born to swim. And, another little one kept trying to swim away.

Of the scene, the duck mom vacillated between giving her young some knowing looks and munching away on lunch. I couldn't help but wonder if some of those little duckies were more ornery than others. Dogs have distinct personalities. Why not birds? I wondered if she was tired at quacking at the ones who strayed. Then again, the consequences of disobedience for a baby duck are life-threatening.




At our house, the consequences of disobedience are so much smaller. If she doesn't listen to me, there is but the chance of a spoiled brat. For fear that I would only encourage pickiness, I have tried to turn a blind eye to her caprices. Until she turned 2, she was not picky at all.

Then, she learned the power of no. Oh, I never really knew how much I would hear that word. Now, even when we make food she likes, it is a 50/50 proposition that she will consume anything.

We try to make a mix of new foods and givens. Grilled cheese is one such given; we did quesadillas. Oddly enough, beans are a perenial favorite; we made black beans. And, then as she is half-Asian, rice is a staple; we did tomato rice. For the grownups, we made a quick orange, charred corn, red onion, lime juice, cilantro salsa/ salad. Of course, we offered this salsa to Belle, but she is really not a fan of oranges.

So other than the salsa, it should have been a home-run dinner, but the little missy didn't touch it. I don't know about birds, but humans sure experience the terrible twos.

Mango Oatmeal Cookies

The act of defining oneself is an obsession of youth. When I was in high school, I wouldn't be caught dead in brown shoes. Mind you, they were a requirement of our uniform. Everyone morning, we would line up for assembly in our too short navy blue tartan skirts. Down the line, spindly legs ended in penny loafers and brown saddle shoes. Somewhere in all that order and propriety, I stood with my friends with my steel-toed Doc Martens. We all need to learn to take a stand and that was mine, inconsequential as it was. (Adulthood it seems to me is about shedding the need to assume xyz are the only things that make you cool.)

Recently, Belle has become increasingly verbal. She has explained many things about her life that I did not know: at school when they watch a movie, there is always popcorn; her sitter lets her do whatever she wants; and her grandfather's car is messy. She has also started telling me who she is. She is someone who wears pretty shoes, who wears pink dresses to birthday parties, and who does not like potatoes. Most importantly, she eats cookies. I don't actually mean Belle eats cookies; I mean she defines herself as a cookie eater. When introduced to strangers (donors at my work, her second-cousins, her doctor), she tells them, "Hello, I eat cookies." It is who she is, apparently. Of course, like all good mothers, I impede her abilities of self-definition. I have never actually given her a cookie. Graham crackers, cupcakes, sure. But cookies? I don't really like cookies and never even thought to give her one.

Children, of course, have plenty of influences. In my daughter's case, many of them, like my father, are bad ones. Clearly she has tasted and liked cookies somewhere. I wonder what that first taste was like. It must have really made an impact. Because, now, I have a little cookie monster on my hands.

Belle has been unsettled in the last few weeks as I have been fairly incapacitated. My mother thought making cookies with the two year old would lift her spirits. While the process was messy; it was fun. There were some tears when Belle realized the cookie batter needed to be baked before consumption. (Usually when I bake with her, I make vegan so she can taste the batter.) The result once baked was delicious (though I can't really consume lots of cookies right now.) My husband had two after dinner--apparently, he too eats cookies.



Recipe
Mango Oatmeal Cookies

Cream:
1 stick butter
1 cup sugar

Mix in:
1 egg
2 T light brown sugar
1.5 cups flour
1/2 t salt
1 T baking powder
2 t cardamom powder
1 cup overripe mango, diced
2 t rose water
1/4 cup pistachios, roughly chopped
2 T yogurt (I used Mango Lime flavored but vanilla would be okay)

Fold in
1 1/2 cup rolled oats

Bake at 350 for 8-12 minutes. Makes about 36 cookies.

This is also my entry for Mango Mela held by Srivalli of Cooking 4 All Seasons.

Omelet with Tomato Salad, Radish Greens and Potatoes

I had a friend say to me a few months ago, I should blog about the foods I can’t eat each week. Really, the list is fairly long and seems to constantly evolve. One day, all of a sudden something innocuous might become terribly offensive—apples are a recent victim.

During pregnancy, hormones pullulate through your veins seeping into every part of your body. And, then if you are of the unlucky few for whom nausea is a constant companion, strong food aversions are commonplace. I am pretty sure that my taste buds are completely fried. I say this as a sort of caveat—I have been eating some sort of strange combinations.

The other day, I had an IV infusion of iron. This is a food blog so I will leave the health talk to a minimum. But, imagine the scene--I was sitting in a beige room, hooked up to the plastic cording with my feet up, watching elderly cancer patients pick up their prescriptions, while my husband studied the handout on increasing iron in your diet. All of these options are predicated on the belief that I can eat or want to eat the food described in the packet. Of these two options, it is the former that is more likely. There is plenty I would love to eat; my stomach just sincerely disagrees.

But, then one moment when I looked back at the different categories on the sheet—iron-rich food, acid rich foods that help you take in the iron, and calcium rich no-nos, it all felt doable. The result was delicious. Not whacky hormone delicious, but actually tasty. Even my husband thought it was yummy.

You see, I had just read [eatingclub] vancouver’s homestyle eggs and tomatoes. I don’t know that it would have appealed to me so strongly prior to finding myself in this delicate state. (I don't necessarily go for eggs with tomatoes). But, the recipe really drew me in. I, of course, made it Indian style. (Right now, Indian food is the only thing that really works for me. My husband thinks that when you are very sick your stomach can only tolerate what you grew up with.)

So, we made a quick tomato salad (with cumin, red chili, mustard seeds and coriander seeds), sautéed the radish greens with mustard seeds, and browned some potatoes with cumin. All these accoutrements topped a simple omelet. (Really no recipes, just yummy.)

Pomegranate Chicken Tagine

I am feeling fairly uninspired blog-wise. True, I have not been completely consumed with cooking and eating as I had been during the height of the produce season, but it is not as if I have fasted.

Instead, I am feeling uncertain about the future of the blog. Doesn’t that sound a little like a verbal rain cloud? I don’t mean there is a threatened foreclosure. You see, I started this as a way to write everyday; not that everyday’s writing was good this year… But, now I wonder if this blog is about writing. I know that many bloggers are part of a niche, but I don’t know if I have one or am in one. But, of course, we all seem to fall in with a crowd eventually. While I am not part of a tight-network, I do have my regular readers (thanks, Mom).

So here is my question: Like the writing? Wish there was less? Wish there was more? Shut up and give me the recipes? Notice the poll to the right and fill in accordingly

And, on to the business at hand. There is a POM of the curvy bottled juice notoriety contest for the Foodie Blogroll and like everyone, $5000 would be nice. This recipe is super easy and a crowd pleaser.

Recipe:
Pomegranate Chicken Tagine
Marinate 1 Chicken breast with the following dry rub
1 T cumin
2 t cinnamon
1 T turmeric
1 t chili pepper

In a tagine or heavy bottomed pot, brown the chicken

Add 3 small onions that have been sliced

Once onions have browned, add:
1 cup POM pomegranate juice (product placement wink here)
1 acorn squash, diced
2 carrots, diced very large

Simmer until chicken is tender

Top with pomegranate seeds

Serve with Yellow Raisin, Pomegranate Seed, Almond Couscous

Masala Coffee Custards

My father’s childhood is mostly a mystery to me. I have only heard a couple stories of his life before me and most of those are through family and friends. I have tried to recreate the exact moment when he started drinking coffee. My father’s love of coffee is so abiding that I am fairly certain it will be mentioned in his obituary (not that that will happen any time soon.) If you took a straw poll of the hundreds and hundreds of people he knows, coffee-drinking would be at the top of the list of personal traits.

There is a clear geographic distribution to coffee and tea-drinking in India. My family hails from the land of tea. (I blame heritage for my addiction to said substance.) The first time I had coffee in India I was sitting at an engagement ceremony. Breakfast in all its fried magnificence was being served. Men were running around the room dipping ladles into the stainless steel vats of piping coffee and adeptly pouring them from great height into the guest’s stainless steel cups. As a tween (though we didn’t have that word back then), I had never had coffee (again, we didn’t have Starbuck’s mochas back then either.) To call that drink coffee would be serious misrepresentation. It was basically warm, sweet, spicy milk kissed by a coffee essence. Candy more than anything else.

I always imagine that this was the sort of coffee concoction that my dad’s mother created when he requested coffee for breakfast. Without any hard-evidence, I instead base this assumption on my grandmother’s fantastic sweet tooth and ability to make anything tasty. Something in him must have inherently understood the lameness of this coffee, because apparently in college, away from home for the first time, my father started to associate himself with the coffee-plantation kids. Under their tutelage, he began to drink dark unadulterated coffee the way he continues to consume it to this day. There must have been one moment where he stood is his friend’s house and he looked over to see a black liquid steaming in a cup. One short moment, where a friend or maybe a friend’s mother asked, “will you have coffee our way or would you like sugar?” And, then with sip, something deep seated must have clicked.

This dessert takes the sweet coffee of my dad’s childhood, which had been rightly that anyway, and turns it into a sweet custard. Serve it with strong coffee and coffee glazed donuts.


Recipe
Masala Coffee Custards
(makes 6-8 depending on the glasses)

In a saucepan, combine and simmer for about 2 minutes
1 cup brewed coffee
1 cup whipping cream
1 cup whole milk
1 cinnamom stick
10 black peppercorns
2 black cardamom pods
2 green cardamom pods

Add:
2 T honey
1/3 cup (or less) jaggery (or brown sugar)

Taste. If it isn’t sickly sweet, add more jaggery

Add:
3 egg yolks (that have been tempered)

Whip with a whisk

Add 1 packet gelatin

Chill for 4 hours

Masala Coffee Donuts

Hibernation must be in my body’s future. It has been craving thigh-fattening fare for a couple weeks and I can only acquiesce. As I hear my yogi friends say listen to your body and give it what it craves. Sure their svelte, healthy body’s yearn for green leafy vegetables and seaweed, but mine is yelling, screaming for deep fried sweets. In my defense of my body, it has very rarely asked for sweets in its long life. When the whispering about donuts began in my psyche or soul or wherever, I was sincerely surprised.

This deep-seated interest in donuts that has manifested itself in my soul became evident as I sat in the dentist’s chair. I was sitting in that turny seat full of remorse about the ungodly volume of tea that I consume daily and its mark on my teeth. Guilt gave way to obsession as I started to focus on the donut shop across the way. When I left the parking lot, clean teeth and all, will-power reined supreme as I passed Amy Joy by. But, then another donut shop appeared in my view. What was I to do? Fine as they were, those donuts did not satiate me.

And then this weekend, I decided to make Masala Coffee Donuts. We were having friends over for Indian food and I wanted to create a fantastic dessert. Basically, I have an over-inflated sense of my cooking ability and often make new recipes for company. The results can be hit or miss—particularly with dessert. That evening’s round of donuts was so unsuccessful that I went to sleep focusing on how to improve the recipe. The next morning I attempted again. Yes, I made donuts two days in a row. And, yes, my husband did joke, “time to make the doughnuts?” The second time around I added buttermilk to the dough; I am a huge proponent of buttermilk. I believe they made the difference.

The resulting doughnuts are not the average chocolate frosted, and so I suggest if you serve them you warn your guests. The dough has cracked pepper and honey, and the frosting has coffee, cardamom, pepper, honey and jaggery. Doughnuts “gone native” perhaps.

Recipes:
Masala Coffee Donuts with Espresso Cardamom Cream Filling
(Adapted from Epicurious)
makes more than 24 doughnuts

In the bowl of a stand mixer, allow to sit for ten minutes the following:
2 1/4 teaspoons dry yeast
1/4 teaspoon plus 1/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup warm whole milk (105°F to 115°F)
1/2 cup plus 2 T buttermilk at room temperature

Add to stand mixer and beat with the hook attachment:
2 eggs slightly beaten
10 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) unsalted butter, melted, cooled to lukewarm
1 T honey

In a separate bowl combine:
4 cups all purpose flour
1 t ground cardamon
1 t freshly crushed black pepper
1/2 t almond extract
1/2 t salt

Add dry mixture to the stand mixer in small batches until it comes together in a sticky dough.

Let rise for 4 hours.

Pat out the dough into a large rectangle. Cut out rounds using cookie cutters(and then cut the whole in the middle with a smaller cookie cutters.) Let rise for 1 hour on a baking sheet.

Fry at 350 until brown.

When the doughnuts are rising make your filling.

When doughnuts are cooling, make glaze.

Cardamom Espresso Pastry Cream

Soak 1 handfull of crushed espresso beans in 2 cups whole milk for 1/2 hour.

In a sauce pan on medium whisk:
1/2 cup sugar
6 tablespoons all purpose flour
2 cups coffee steeped whole milk
5 large egg yolks
Pinch of salt

Add:
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract
2 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp crushed pepper (optional)

Whisk until thickened. Chill for 4 hrs with tin foil to cover. (They say plastic wrap but it is not easy to recycle or to reuse.)

Coffee, Honey, Blackpepper Glaze

Steep 8 blackpeppercorns and 2 cardamom pods in 1/4 cup coffee for 20 minutes.

Add:
1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
2 tablespoon honey
1/4 teaspoon salt

Whip until smooth and then simmer.

Recipes to Rival: Potato and Long Bean Rendang

Many years ago, I was running down a London street attempting to return to my dorm before the rain. In my time in London, I never got used to carry an umbrella (still don't.) However, there was some assuring futility in this exercise; I would duck into a cheap restaurant as soon the rain would start.

On one such rainy evening, I found myself in an Indonesian restaurant. I can't remember what I ate, though I think it was a sort of grilled chicken curry, but what I do remember is that the flavors were facinating. Indian and the various South East Asian cuisines seem to combine the same or similar ingredients to get various different results. For example, in my deeply un-familiar mind, while Indonesian and Malaysian food and Thai food share coconut in common, the former has a full-bodied heartiness and the latter a light, lilting sweetness.

This month for Recipes to Rival, we were making Beef Rendang; a dish prepared in Indonesia and Malaysia. For my part, I subbed out the meat and made potato and long bean rendang--basically, I took the recipe and subbed meat with vegetables. With the help of a food processor, the prep time on this dish was fast, and the vegetarian version had a shorter cooking time than the beef version. Great recipe for cold weather, if you ask me.

For more renditions, go to the Recipes to Rival blogroll.

Eating Art: Deconstructed Shrimp Biryani

We all have kitchen failures. Mine is often short-grained rice. I am a bit of a space cadet and a multitasker; the combination has overcooked more than one pot of rice. (I also seem to always misplace my timer.) But, I hate throwing out food or even composting it before trying to use it for another purpose.

We planned the Eating Art dinner, 10 courses/ 20 diners, in about three weeks. The weekend before, we made a list of things that could be made ahead of time and frozen. We also identified the recipes that were harder or completely new to us. As such, some dishes received more attention (such as the tea house soba noodles.) Some dishes that were to be a breeze were basically decided to be givens. The Pistachio Kulfi from the dessert course was one of these.

Kulfi is Indian ice cream. Unlike its Western sisters, it is unchurned and therefore dense and creamy. I have made this sweet treat many times before, and there in was my familiar. Somehow in the hullabaloo of dinner preparation, my husband and I completely miscommunicated about the proportion of nut extract and rose water needed. When it came out of the freezer, I was basically like cold, thick perfume and the unedibility was remarkable. My husband wanted to chuck it was our freezer was rapidly filling up and our refrigerator was bursting at the seam. But, I just couldn’t.

As we debated, the kulfi was defrosting on the counter, turning into a pale green glop. And, somehow, my husband’s inner brilliance began to shine—it could be the marinade for the shrimp biryani.

As we had some who don’t eat shrimp, we went with a “deconstructed” biryani. (I know that word has become so cheesy.) We made saffron rice with dried unsulfured apricots, slivered almonds, and mint. We also made a rich curry sauce sweetened by the last of the season’s Sweet 100 tomatoes. And then we had planned for grilled marinated shrimp.

So, we marinated 1.5 lbs of American shrimp in a little more than 1/2 cup of pistachio kulfi melted, 1/3 cup coconut milk, 2 T chilli powder, 2 T garam masala, 1 sprinkle asofoetida, and a sprinkle of fresh mint.

We grilled them up and at the same time cooked the marinade down into a rice curry sauce. Yummy, yummy innovation.

For the Kulfi recipe, follow my kulfi recipe but add 2 drops pistachio extract.

Eating Art: Beans in Banana Leaves

When I was a child, one of the joys of visiting my family in India was eating off banana leaves. The smell and the slick feel against one’s fingers. Even now, those leaves give me a sense of youthful joy. So, when I saw some frozen leaves at the Asian market I couldn’t exist.

For my Eating Art dinner, I needed something that was hot and wet, and I planned to do beans en papillote so this would be sort of an asian take on that. But, frankly, this was one of the least successful dishes I made at that dinner. Frozen banana leaves are a pale, well nasty, replacement for the original. I purchased them out of nostalgia but instead they simply reminded me that there is no place like home (or in my case your grandmother’s home.)

This would be nice either with fresh banana leaves or en papillote (in parchment)

Recipe:
Beans in Banana Leaves
Sautee for 30 sec:
½ cup grated coconut (only brown very slightly)

Add:
1 tsp tamarind paste soaked in hot water
1-2 green chilis
2 smashed lemongrass stems, cleaned and pulsed in a food processor
¼ cup coconut milk

Mix coconut mixed with cleaned green beans. Place on parchment and make into a sealed package. Bake for 8 minutes. Serve in package and let guests/ diners open it themselves.

Eating Art: Cauliflower Handpies

Here I have totally lost my recipe and my pictures, but I know that they will return this winter for the Bento. But, I can give you a brief. I used a pie crust made with a combination of vegetable shortening and Earthbalance (rather than butter.)

But, the filling was where it was at. It was cauliflower, ras el hanout, turmeric yellow raisins, onions, and cider vinegar. When I make them next time, I will be adding more chili pepper, and less vinegar. They were almost there.

Eating Art: Red Lentil and Fennel Salad

I am still working out what to put in my lunchbox. It is hard to get protein in a mouth satisfying manner. I had a bad habit of throwing out recipes after I make them. But, as that is anything but efficient, I am forcing myself to go back to recipes that were tasty and easy.

One such recipe was from my Eating Art event. It was so simple, light, but yet filling. The recipe had actually started with the carrying case. There were lovely little peppers at the market. Even though it is October, there are still plenty of peppers at the market. I had used them this summer as stuffed peppers and they were so enchanting to the dinners (my family), so they were early on my list for our big dinner. The filling almost seemed immaterial. But, in the end, the filling was nice enough that looking back they truly eclipse their housing.

For the bento, I diced up one red pepper and added it to the lentil salad, for a less fussy and time-consuming dish.

Recipe:
Red Lentil and Fennel Salad
Cook 1 cup masoor lentils until tender but still whole

Add 1/2 fennel bulb diced very finely.

In a skillet, sautee 1 t fennel seeds, 1 t coriander seeds, and ½ t pimenton in oil under fragrant.

Add this hot oil dressing to the lentils and refrigerate overnight. Serve in tiny sweet peppers that have been deseeded. (Alternately, toss with 1 red pepper chopped.)

Lemongrass Potato Salad

The Bento Box Chronicles continue. . .

I have been packing four bentos this week. Two for those looking to loose weight(my mother and husband); 1 for those looking to maintain/gain weight (me); and 1 for a toddler (Belle). But, basically, I want everyone to eat healthy varied diets--and I don't want to make four separate meals. So, I am trying to modify calories my portioning and add ons.

One of the hardest things for me is to create healthful meals that don't skim on mouthfeel. My mother has eaten terrible food for so long and I don't want her to break and buy her old creamy or crunchy favorites. So, as a treat on Friday, I made potato salad.

My husband and I used to adore the Korean potato salad we got at a neighborhood joint. When it went out of business, we started making our own version topped with vinegary cucumbers and onions. But, I have thing about cucumbers--I hate cucumbers that have been sliced and then left in the refrigerator overnight even in vinegar. So that potato salad recipe doesn't work as a bento box option for me.

For an update, the Bento potato salad was rich in lemongrass as I hoped the herbal citric punch would be exhilerating during the work day. With winter coming on, I have been turning to spicier, richer foods, and I have begun using more lemongrass.

As one might expect, the internet has lots to tell me about lemongrass. It is a perenial plant in warmer climates, native to South Asia, and the edible portion is the fleshy stem. When you purchase lemon grass, look for firm stalks. When you bring them home, cut off the top leaves and reserve for stock making. Then smash the stem like you might smash garlic. At this point, I put this into a food processor. I then put the lemongrass confetti, as it were, and froze it en masse for future use.

So back to the potato salad, it was delicious. Much better than my vegan hot dog fish that swam upon them. (Photo tutorial for that coming next week.) This potato salad is also my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, started by Kalyn's Kitchen and hosted this week by Amy and Jonny of We Are Never Full.

Recipe
Lemongrass Potato Salad
Combine and mash 4 medium blue potatoes, 1 small red potato, and 1 not very sweet, sweet potato (I get these small ones from Asian grocery stores that are perfect. If you can't get this, just put in one more white potato)

Add 2 T grapeseed vegannaise, 1 T spicy mustard, splash of rice wine vinegar, splash olive oil, 2 T lemongrass, 1 t ground coriander, salt and white pepper.

In a separate bowl, dress 1 small grated carrot, 1 radish finely diced, and 1 small chopped shallot with lime juice and salt.

Combine the diced vegetables with the potatoes and then add 1 handful of fresh cilantro leaves.