Blueberry Lemon Loaf

Yeah, sure. I don't bake. Unless, as mentioned before in the short little annals of this blog, I'm feeling social anxiety.

So, dear Reader, what the hell do you get somebody for a birthday present that you don't know very well? Personally, I bake. Because it's a) (more or less) guaranteed to please (if it turns out okay. And if you don't include known allergens); b) it's inexpensive; and c) it takes time and energy, which, in my mind, is one of the better presents you can give someone.

So I brought this recipe to a recent shindig. I think it went over okay, once the birthday girl got over her confusion over getting a loaf of bread...hrm...

Sources:
Beranbaum, Rose Levy. The Cake Bible. William Morrow & Company, Inc. New York: 1988
Bon Appetit Magazine, August 1991
Joy of Baking.com - recipe tweaked by Stephanie Jaworski

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature (just nuke it 10 seconds or so)
3/4 cup granulated white sugar
2 large eggs
1/2 t. pure vanilla extract (I bumped it up to 1 t. at least)
1 T. grated lemon zest
1/2 cup milk
1 1/2 cup fresh or frozen blueberries

Lemon glaze:
1/3 cup granulated white sugar
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 t. Cointreau, vanilla extract, or brandy (optional)

Preheat yer oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C) and place the oven rack in the center of the oven. Butter (or spray with a non-stick oil spray) the bottom and sides of a loaf pan (9x5x3 inch, or 23x13x8 cm, for you Metricheads out there). Set aside. Don't let the cat lick it. EW.

I read in another recipe a recommendation to cut a piece of parchment or wax paper to fit the bottom of your loaf pan. I did that, but I didn't see that there was any real point to it. But if you feel like being uber-conscientious about getting the loaf out of the pan, you could try it. I found that tip here.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In a little bowl, dump your blueberries and a couple of small handfuls of flour and gently toss the blueberries 'til they're coated with flour. This (supposedly) helps keep your blueberries from sinking to the bottom of your bread - thus avoiding the dreaded Blueberry Bottom, which is a deeply embarrassing personal problem. Just ask Violet Beauregarde.

In the bowl of your electric mixer, or with a hand mixer, or with really good arm muscles, beat the butter until softened (about 1 minute). Add the sugar and continue to beat until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla extract and lemon zest. Add the flour mixture a little handful at a time; between handfuls, add the milk a little at a time - you want to make sure that the flour's totally incorporated, but you don't want to OVERbeat, because then your bread will be tough. And then you'll have to cough up bail money and get it into rehab and pay for its psychotherapy and drive it to group work, and who wants that for anyone's bread, really.

Gently fold in the blueberries - use a plastic spatula or something. You don't want to squish the blueberries too much.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 55 to 65 minutes, or until the bread is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean (or just slightly besmirched with blueberry guts, but not bready bits).

Meanwhile (back at the ranch), in a small saucepan, bring the 1/3 cup of sugar and hte 3 tablespoons of lemon juice and your little dash of something extra (if you choose to use Cointreau or almond or vanilla extract or whatever) to a boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves.

When the bread is done, remove from oven and place on a wire rack. Pierce the hot loaf all over with a toothpick or a leftover chopstick from Chinese take-out or some other pointy bit and then brush the top of the loaf with the hot lemon glaze. Cool the loaf in the pan for about 30 minutes and then remove from the pan to let cool completely on the wire rack.

As with the banana bread recipe I posted earlier, this recipe is very forgiving - you could add nuts, extra flavoring, etc. It takes about 20 minutes with the preparations, plus baking time, so you can have delicoius and not-very-good-for-you cakey-bread pretty quickly. And it makes you look like a jeen-u-wine bakerperson. Yay!

Black Eyed Peas, Rice & Burnt Onions

I discovered black eyed peas this week. I'd thought they were the kind of beans you had to soak overnight, which of course takes more prior planning and forethought than I usually put into dinner. But lo and behold, you can just throw these cuties into a pot, cook for 45 minutes, drain and go!

Black eyed peas are, of course, a staple of Southern cuisine. They were originally cultivated in West Africa and brought through the West Indies to the Southern United States by Africans; by the 1700s the crop was widespread through the South. It's very drought and heat-tolerant, which makes the plant easy to grow in the American South. The planting of crops of black-eyed peas was promoted by George Washington Carver because, as a legume, it adds nitrogen to the soil and has high nutritional value. Those little suckers have a TON of protein (9 g. per serving), fiber and calcium, and they're very low in fat! Yay!

When I was a child, my grandmama would cook the traditional black eyed peas and rice (they expand in water - just like your prosperity throughout the year) and collard greens (they're green, like all the money you'll make!) on New Years Day, for good luck. These "good luck" traditions supposedly date back to the "Recent Unpleasantness," or "The Wawar," as it was still known in my great-grandmother's household. The story goes that Sherman's troops would strip everywhere they went of all food, crops, and livestock, and sow the soil with salt - they'd burn and destroy everything in their path. BUT they wouldn't touch the black eyed peas - called "field peas" - or the corn, because that wasn't fit for human consumption anyway, just as cattle fodder.

(Side note: my mother would "clean my room" for me about once a year, which she called a "Sherman's March" - where she would throw away everything that was on the floor or out of place. She probably burned my sheets, too. I wasn't a very clean child. )

I found this recipe through one of my favorite foodie sites, Cheap Healthy Good. This recipe has also been sighted in this New York Times column by Mark Bittman; the emphasis is on the burnt, crispy onions. I like to think of the black eyed peas as being the star of this dish, but apparently burning onions creates a magical cacophony of flavor bursts in your mouth, so don't skip on 'em. I also spiced it up a bit - added two cloves of garlic, some fenugreek and fresh basil. You can tweak the seasonings as you see fit. This recipe is easily expandable, and black eyed peas and rice freeze well.

Ingredients

1 cup cooked brown rice

1 cup cooked black eyed peas

1 medium onion, sliced thin (or 2 onions, if you REALLY like onions)

2 cloves garlic, very thinly sliced (or you can mince them, but I like the more solid presentation in this dish)

2 medium carrots, diced

a couple of handfuls of baby spinach (about a cup)

2 T. torn fresh basil leaves

1 T oil (I used olive oil, but whatevs)

3 T balsamic vinegar, or to taste

Salt n' Pepa (no, not the band)

1 t. ground fenugreek

1/2 t. Vietnamese chili garlic sauce* or to taste (optional)

Heat yer oil in a pan over medium-high. When it’s good and hot, add the onions (they should sizzle). Add a little salt.

Cook onions, stirring occasionally, until they start to brown. Lower the heat a little, and keep cooking, stirring more frequently.

In the meantime, combine black eyed peas and rice in a big bowl. Add S&P to taste. Add balsamic vinegar, fenugreek, and chili garlic sauce, and set aside.

When the onions are pretty shriveled, about 15 minutes or so, add the garlic and carrots, and cook until onions are blackened and blistered in spots. (Add your carrots earlier if you like them more cooked.)

Stir in spinach to the onions, garlic & carrots, just until it’s wilted (like, 30 seconds. Seriously. Don't leave the stove.)

Add veggies to rice and beans mixture as a topping.

Say "Omnomnomnom!" as you wolf this dish down.

*Vietnamese chili garlic sauce (NOT sriracha! That stuff's for wimps. I mean this savory-spicy goodness) is one of my favorite not-so-secret ingredients. Go easy on it; it's got a kick that will sneak up and bite you on the tuchus if you're not very judicious in its application. I like it in everything from spaghetti sauce to eggs. Just...not ice cream. Wouldn't go well with ice cream. Blech.

Ethical Foodie Blogging

http://foodethics.wordpress.com/the-code/

I've wondered about the ethics of modifying, using and posting recipes online; where does one draw the line at crediting sources? Generally speaking, if I make something up off the top of my head, I'm not a good enough cook to have created something so spectacularly original that it hasn't been done before in many different ways (let me tell you about my baked chicken from the other night....oh, wait - are you snoring?). I'll often glance at several different recipes for the same dish and come up with something that's just slightly tweaked. Should a foodie blogger cite all potential sources? There are thousands of people who enjoy food who post recipes online around the world - where does the idea of creative commons come in? How much should we care?

Also of note: the section about reviewing restaurants and the link to the Association of Food Journalists online code of ethics.

I'm curious about your opinions.

Wild about Wild Rice: Mini-Review

Back from "vacation," which was more like "attempt to play referee between feuding family members and fail"-cation, along with "let's ride in pathogen tubes 30,000 feet in the air for 4 straight days!"-cation, with a dash of, "sure, another drink sounds like a SWELL idea"-cation. Not much foodie deliciousness was enjoyed during said trip to South Carolina and to Vancouver, with a notable exception:

Wild Rice in Vancouver is a pretty amazing place. Atmosphere, modern-casual. Service, friendly, cute, and knowledgeable. It's family-style Chinese tapas (I know! Yay for confusing cultural trends!). My dining buddy and I decided to order fancy drinks; he had a "Buddha's Caesar" drink, a deeply spicy concoction of horseradish infused vodka, clamato, cilantro, lemon and a dash of soy (which somehow I can't see the Buddha enjoying, but we took advantage of our non-enlightened status and slurped it up), while I indulged in an Orchid, which consisted of appleton rum, ginger beer, ginger ale, fresh lime and bitters. Delicious. But the real delight came when the wonton soup arrived - a revelation of complex miso flavour, hand-made dumpings with locally raised pork, and crisp spring onions. It will change your opinion about what wonton soup should taste like. The spring rolls (vegetarian, with a sweet grapefruit/chili dip) and the Beef Shanghai were both really good - but the soup topped it all. Our total bill, with frou-frou drinks, the soup and two mains, was $53.53 (Canadian). Slightly pricier than we'd intended, but I don't begrudge them a cent.

If you're visiting Vancouver, venture to Wild Rice. It's worth it.

pitapitapita

I am so proud of myself!

Probably inordinately so, given the ease of this recipe.

Pita bread is filling, low-calorie, and ridiculously easy to make. It's a fun project for kids, too, since it can be done quickly and you get cute little pockety breads.

Mine didn't turn out perfectly - I think my whole wheat flour's gone off a bit (ew). I also think I'd roll out the dough a bit thinner, and cook a little bit longer. But toasting saved even the mushy ones, so it's all good.

Pita only calls for 6 ingredients, and the recipe is quite forgiving. You can use sugar or honey, 100% whole wheat flour or 100% white flour, or any combination thereof; I used active dry yeast, but if you don't want to bother with dissolving and proofing, you can use rapid rise just as easily. You can use whatever oil you have in your house, but if you want to be all authentic, use olive oil.

Makes 8 pitas.

Ingredients

3 cups flour (I used 2 cups white and 1 cup wheat, and that seemed just about right)

1.5 t. salt

1 T. sugar or honey

1 packet yeast (or if you're using rapid rise, 2 t.)

1.25 - 1.5 cups room temperature water

2 T. olive oil, vegetable oil, butter or shortening

If you're using active dry yeast, follow the instructions on the packet to get it going, then add it to your dry ingredients. Otherwise, mix the yeast in with the flour, salt and sugary-substance. Add the olive oil and water and stir together with a wooden spoon. All of the ingredients should form a ball. If some of the flour won't stick, add a tablespoon more water until you get the right consistency.

Once it's all in a big ballish glop, dump it out on a lightly floured work surface and knead the dough for about 10 minutes, or until your arms fall off. If you're using an electric mixer, mix at low speed for 10 minutes (I personally don't think it takes this long - I kneaded for exactly 7 minutes). You want the dough to become stretchy and elastic and smooth (so where it bounces back when you press it with your widdle finger).

Once the dough's been pummeled, form it into a ball and put it in a big ol' bowl that's been lightly coated with oil. Roll it around a little (or cheat and use a spray oil like I did) so that it's lightly coated with oil on all sides. Cover the bowl with a damp towel and set it aside to rise until it's doubled in size, approximately 90 minutes.

Once you've done the laundry, picked your nose, called your Aunt Millicent, run to the store to pick up tampons, taken a 20 minute nap, and yelled at the cat, punch the dough down to release some of the trapped gases and divide it into 8 mini-balls (heh). Cover the ballspawns with a damp towel and let them rest for 20 more minutes.

Meanwhile (back at the ranch), preheat the oven to 400 degrees. If you have a baking stone (I don't), put it in the oven to preheat, too. If you're a mere mortal and don't have a baking stone, turn a cookie sheet upside down and place it on the middle rack of the oven while you're preheating it.

After the dough has relaxed for 20 minutes (charge it spa fees), spread a light coating of flour on a work surface, take your balls (heheh), sprinkle a little flour on top of the dough, and use a rolling pin, a big glass, or your hands to stretch and flatten the dough. Roll those suckers out to between 1/8 and 1/4 inch thick (I think on the thinner side produces better results). If the dough doesn't want to stretch sufficiently, slap it upside the head and let it rest another 5-10 minutes, then try it again.

If you have a spray bottle in the kitchen, spray a light mist of water onto your baking surface (i.e., the cookie sheet in the oven) and close the oven for 30 seconds. I have a "cat blaster" spray mister bottle that works really well for this. Getting the oven moist (heh heh again. I know - I'm terrible) reduces blistering on the outside of your pitas. You can skip this step if you don't have a spray bottle handy. No biggie.

Open the oven and toss as many pitas as will fit onto the baking surface. Bake 'em for 3-5 minutes. They should puff up some. Watch them carefully - my first batch was underdone, but you don't want them to be too browned, either. I did mine in batches because I couldn't fit all 8 in the oven at once. Given that they're done so quickly, it wasn't a big deal to do them in stages.

That's it! You're done! Don't burn your fingers when you pull them apart to put butter & honey, homemade hummus, or tuna salad in 'em.

This recipe is modified from this (very cool and informative) site: http://www.thefreshloaf.com/recipes/pitabread

So here's a thought: Savory pancakes

The Bald Guy and I enjoyed a delicious Indian meal at Rajput Restaurant (http://www.rajput.co.uk/) on Friday night. The food was very tasty and reasonably priced, and the service, while a bit disorganized at times, definitely had a "we live here" feel; Perveen, the proprietor and Chef Emerita, conversed with our table for a good five minutes. So far, it's the only Indian restaurant in Harrogate that doesn't seem to be afraid to use spices. The mango pickle especially was delicious (though not to the Bald Guy's liking).

Anyhoodle. That's not the point.

We ended up with two containers of doggie-bag slop (which is also VERY unusual for English restaurants - the waiter even offered the take-away boxes to us! We were impressed). Last night, the Bald Guy had made a delicious Chinese-style stir-fry with the rest of our London Broil, but he made a LOT of it. So tonight was leftover night at the Love Shack. What to do with all this sloppy yummy Indian goodness, though? Rice = takes too long for hungry Loves. Noodles didn't seem quite right. So we decided to make savory pancakes. And lemme tell ya, they were great.

Now, confession time: we used Bisquick. Yes, I said it. Bisquick. Worse: it was generic Bisquick. I know, I know. Anathema. Whatevs.

So, modified from the Bisquick (or generic thereof) back-of-box recipe:
2 c. baking mix
1 1/3 c. milk (actually, I added a little more milk to make the pancakes thinner - probably more like 1.5 c. milk)
1 egg
1/3 c. cheddar or parmesan cheese
1 T. thyme
1 T. garlic salt
Fresh ground black pepper, to taste

Heat griddle (or large skillet) to 375 degrees F (or medium-high). Stir all ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. I used a hand mixer, but I'm sure you don't have to - just make sure all the lumps are gone. Make sure you wipe off the coffee maker from all the splatters you've thrown across the kitchen using the hand mixer ill-advisedly, because you are a small-machine-impaired moron (oh wait. That only applies to me). Bake on hottish, lightly greased (I used one of those pressurized spray bottles filled with olive oil. They come in quite handy! I don't really recommend a whole lot of kitchen gadgets, but make-yer-own-oil-sprayer thingies get the Maggie Burned Thumb Up Seal of Approval) using a little less than 1/4 c. batter for each pancake. Cook until edges are dry and bubbles break towards the middle of the pancake surface. Flip, cook until golden, remove, repeat. Make a REALLY REALLY BIG ONE with the extra batter at the end (come on! You know you want to eat a gigantic-ass pancake!)

I served our leftover ethnic cuisine on little beds of savory pancake. Super delicious and relatively easy.

Or you can just make rice. How boring.

Hunk O' Meat: London Broil

I loves me some cow muscle. I wish I didn't; I'm sure I'd be a much healthier and quite possibly richer person if the thought of consuming large portions of cow thighs and haunches and backs and sides didn't appeal to me so damn much. But there you have it: I'm a carnivore.

I got a London Broil (2.5 pounder) on sale at the commisary recently. Tonight the Craving took hold (Meat Meat Meat Meat Meat!!), so I marinated and broiled away. I made rice (average) and brussels sprouts (delicious! recipe to follow) on the side.


Ingredients for Marinade
1/4 c. oil (I used EVOO)
1/3 c. balsamic vinegar
3 T. tamari (soy sauce. I use the reduced sodium version)
splash of red wine, if you have it
3-4 cloves garlic, minced, plus an extra, sliced, just for giggles
3 T. brown sugar
1 onion, chopped or diced - cut up into little tiny hunks, however you want to define that.
1 T. jarred minced ginger
a whole buncha black pepper
a leetle salt

Take yer hunk o' meat (this recipe is specific to London Broil, but you can use any thick-cut cow product you'd like, I'm sure) and wipe it down real well, and sprinkle it with salt and pepper. Let it sit a few minutes mooing at you while you prepare the marinade.

Take a big ol' plastic zipper bag. Dump all your marinade ingredients in it and squuush it around a bit, to mingle up the flavors and get it all nice and combined. Take yer meat and splot 'er in there. Close up the bag, pushing all the extra air out as best you can, and massage the meat (heh. Hehheh.) so that the marinade gets all up in its proverbial face. Now refrigerate the bag o' meat for as long as you can stand it - at least a few hours, or overnight if you can. I didn't start this project 'til mid-afternoon, so mine only marinaded about 3 hours, and it turned out fine, but I'm sure the longer you let it go, the better.

Heat your broiler to Superhot (gas 3 en anglais). When you're ready to cook, slop your Hunk onto a broiler pan-thing (mine has a little removable grill; I usually put a layer of aluminum foil underneath because I'm a lazy biatch who hates to scrub pots and pans). Make sure a portion of the garlic/onion bits are hanging out on top of the meat. Put it in the broiler for FIVE minutes (NO MORE!) Now take it out and flip it over. You may want to find some tongs for this - I made a bit of a mess trying to flip the damn thing with a spatula. Now broil the other side for FIVE minutes (NO MORE!)*

While the meat is broiling, take that leftover marinade, add an extra splash of red wine and maybe a bit of beef stock and heat it up in a skillet. I added some chopped mushrooms, because the Bald Guy thought it would be BRILLIANT to add mushrooms. As usual, he was right. Let the sauce simmer/low boil for a few minutes until it's thickened a bit.

Take your London Broil out of the broiler and let it rest for at least 5 minutes, and preferably 15. Carve into slices against the grain (IMPORTANT! If you cut with the grain, your meat will be tough and chewy. No, I don't know why. I only know it's true, having had my share of Meat Chewing Gum before). Serve the slices with the sauce.

*Okay, so maybe a little longer if your oven is not as hawt as mine gets. Food safety guidelines specify steak at medium should be no cooler than 160 degrees F, 145 degrees F for medium rare. Use a meat thermometer to get an accurate temperature.

Served with:
white rice (boring! It would have been better with roasted potatoes)
Lemony Fennelly Brussels Sprouts
(basic recipe: heat up some butter in a pan. Dump in some brussels sprouts when the butter melts. Add some fresh lemon zest, a little red pepper flakes, some salt & pepper, a dash of nutmeg, and about 1/4 t. fennel seeds. Cook over medium heat until done, stirring occasionally. I am not ashamed to say I used frozen brussels sprouts for this - a fraction of the preparation, and really, just as good)

Nomnomnom. Meatmeatmeatmeatmeat.

Bonus:
For a side dish, we had Cat Fricassee.Don't worry - we washed the cutting board. Stoopid cat.