rhubarb! rhubarb! rhubarb!

{ urban foraging + farmer's market love }

[dearrhubarb]

picture perfect

what i love about the food blogosphere are the inspired recipes and their requisite pretty pictures. though food photography is sometimes derivative -- i'm guilty of "ooh, let me get in on this trend of moody photos" too -- there's a craft behind it, deliberate artistry in both the food making and the presentation to create a feast for the mouth and the eyes, and that is inspiring to me. i like to think of generations of cooks who, some more willingly than others, learned baking at their mothers' knees, or pored over detailed cookbooks, treating the rituals of cooking with a mix of playfulness and sacredness, finding it meaningful to preside over the very traditionally domestic space of the kitchen, to evoke a sense of home wherever they are, through homecooking. the making of food and the documentating of a slow, old-fashioned art, and the creation of traditions: these are all magical to me.

but i know it is precisely the art, the photogenic dishes, the demands that we cook every day (a demand i place on myself but do not extend to my friends, because it pertains to my personal lifestyle choices) that is intimidating. more often than not, images are about making things desirable. with food, though not with other life matters (see facebook, see instagram) i am immune to this envy-inducing medium. i am the only person i know who voraciously reads food blogs: for someone without an underlying interest in cooking-as-craft what is enchanting to me must make homecooking seem even more inaccessible.

THAT said, i am put off by the unanimous and relentless holiday zeal of the food industry. the blogs are is all "it's my favourite time of the year," when surely we all know that life doesn't look as picture perfect as that and plenty of families are dysfunctional and family gatherings painful, and thanksgiving itself is tied up with genocide. so, on the one hand i want to be happy for you that you're grateful for your husband and your dog and the free-range turducken you bought from whole foods, but on the other hand i have to wonder: are food bloggers so mired in the industry of image-making that they are largely uncritical, or willfully oblivious, only looking to the saccharine and not the darkness?

[dearrhubarb]

a rabbit! aka Braised Rabbit with Caramelized Fennel & Lemon Butter Gnocchi

i had a bunny obsession when i was little. my notebooks were plastered with bunny stickers, my shelves stuffed with stuffed (plush) rabbits, and my favourite book in the world was a step-by-step how-to-draw-bunnies in 100 different cute poses. when an aunty gave me a chocolate rabbit for easter, i kept it in the fridge and gloated at it every day, unwilling to massacre the poor thing by bashing its chocolate head and devouring its shattered shell. (it went stale, old, and unedible, as is the way of fridge chocolate.) but now that i've grown up, i've developed a huge interest, almost a macabre glee, in eating bunny.

maybe it started with the hunger games. katniss and gale silently stalking rabbits and squirrels in the woods outside district 12, imbue wild game with this off-grid glamour. i can't look out the window without sighting a rabbit or two snacking in our home-grown garden, so they're ubiquitous, but intriguingly non-mainstream as food. better yet, rabbits are a promising healthy and "sustainable" food source: they can subsist on a grain-free diet, are typically hormone-free thanks to having evaded the factory farm fate of the chicken, and can be kept in urban homesteads (thanks to also having evaded typical city rules for keeping livestock.) i secretly daydream of keeping a hutch or two; i've heard they're a good source of income. can you tell i'm super excited?

i made this rabbit in the spring. it's full of delicate spring flavours: lemon, mushroom, fennel, cinammon.

milk-braised whole rabbit

rub the rabbit in lemon zest, sea salt, black pepper, smoked paprika, and the tiniest drop of wasabi or horseradish mustard. let sit in a white wine/sherry vinegar bath with diced onions, carrots, bay leaves and a cinammon stick.

the following day: reserve marinade lightly fry the rabbit on each side until browned sautee sliced onions, fennel and rosemary in butter until translucent and fragrant add marinade and reduce by half add rabbit and milk bring milk to a boil, then to a simmer bake at 350F for 1 hour, rotating every 30 minutes in the last 15 minutes, add a medley sauteed medly of mushrooms (i used oyster, shitake and button)

lemon butter ricotta gnocchi

ricotta gnocchi (barely adapted from Zuni Cafe)

1 pound fresh ricotta, thoroughly drained and pressed with spatula 7 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese 1 tablespoon melted butter 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour + more for rolling 2 large eggs salt

in a large bowl, beat the eggs until fluffy add all ingredients and stir until well-mixed and fluffy take a small ball, and gently roll out onto floured surface. i like to roll out a long tube, then slice into small 1" pieces. repeat heat a vat of boiling water. add gnocchi, boil until floating.

lemon butter (barely adapted from lovethycarrot)

10 tablespoons butter 1 tablespoon shallot, minced 2 cloves garlic, crushed zest of 1 lemons juice of 2 lemons 1/2 cup chopped pistachio (I used hazelnut) salt pepper rosemary sage

Heat butter, and sautee shallow, garlic, rosemary and sage until the shallot is translucent and spices are fragrant. Add lemon juice and zest, cook briefly, then turn off heat. Add salt, pepper, and toss in ricotta gnocchi. Garnish with crushed nuts.

caramelized fennel

adapted from ottolenghi's plenty

slice fennel bulb lengthwise roast fennel slices in olive oil and butter toss in garlic and brown sugar, salt and peppper return to oven and gently caramelize at low heat

[dearrhubarb]

$20 groceries in NYC: What We Ate part ii

$20 groceries in NYC: What We Ate - part i Grocery Shopping in NYC tips

THE BREAKDOWN

VEGGIES MEAT DAIRY GRAIN OTHERS Kohlrabi $1 @Union Square Greenmarket Pork Butt $3.49 @Sunrise Mart Eggs $2.49 @Trader Joe's Rice $1.49 @Fine Fare Garlic $0.99 @Hong Kong Supermarket Black Turnip $1.25 @Union Square Greenmarket Noodles $2.99 @Hong Kong Supermarket Soy Sauce $2.49 @Sunrise Mart Organic Carrots $0.88 @Trader Joe's Vinegar $0.69 @Gristedes Button Mushrooms $1.79 @Hong Kong Supermarket Snow Peas $2.49/bag @Hong Kong Supermarket Spring Onions $0.50 @Misc. Chinatown Stall TOTAL: $7.91 TOTAL: $3.49 TOTAL: $2.49 TOTAL: $2.99 TOTAL: $4.17 GRAND TOTAL: $21.05

When it comes to quick weeknight meals and budget cooking, I find it easiest to go asian. Maybe it's mere muscle memory, that I can whip up any noodle-y or rice dish with whatever's on hand. Or maybe it's that an array of lightly cooked vegetables and a rice or noodle base makes for a filling meal that's light on ingredients. Fancy, pricey ingredients are unnecessary when basic grocery store staples and days-old-fridge vegetables get lightly sautéed into deliciousness. This is my #lazymeal

WHAT WE ATE

several nights in a row with slight variations

Pan-Fried Noodles with whatever vegetables you have on hand. I like to add a fried egg. A simple sauce can be made with soy sauce, sugar and vinegar, no fancy oils necessary.

Fresh Green Noodle Salad finely dice peas, garlic, and spring onions, and lightly pan fry. toss with cooked noodles and add oil, salt, and pepper to taste

A Typical Cantonese Dinner: Steamed Egg Custard, Snow-Pea Stir Fry with a "dry-stir-fry" technique, Root Veggies (Carrot, Kohlrabi & Turnip) Stir Fry with a "moist-stir-fry" technique, sauce of diluted soy sauce, paprika, salt and sugar and steamed rice with (leftover) black beans.

[dearrhubarb]

$20 groceries in NYC: What We Ate part i

THE BREAKDOWN

Remember this chart? We put it to good use on the grocery circuit.

VEGGIES FISH DAIRY GRAIN OTHERS Butternut Squash $1.25 @Union Square Greenmarket Fish Fillet $1.52 @Sunrise Mart Eggs $2.49 @Trader Joe's Buckwheat Noodles $1.49 @Sunrise Mart Spice Mix $1.99 @Trader Joe's Cabbage $2 @Union Square Greenmarket Butter $2.99 @Trader Joe's Rice $1.49 @Fine Fare Rutabaga $1 @Union Square Greenmarket Rye Bread: $2.79 @Moishe's Bakery Mushrooms $1.79 @Hong Kong Supermarket Black Beans $0.88 @Fairways TOTAL: $6.04 TOTAL: $1.52 TOTAL: $5.48 TOTAL: $6.65 TOTAL: $1.99 GRAND TOTAL: $21.68

WHAT WE MADE

Butternut Squash Bread Pudding Butternut Squash Tacos (with homemade tortillas) Fish Tacos with Rice, Black Beans & Braised Cabbage (with homemade tortillas) Rutabaga & Squash Soup Buckwheat Noodles with Cabbage & Mushroom Slaw Polish Hunter's Stew (Cabbage) Butternut Squash Pie with "Pumpkin" Seed Crust Black Bean Buckwheat Noodles

Say what, the stew needs onions and mushrooms, and the pudding needs cheese? And bacon? Who has money for bacon? Naw, just omit the ingredients you don't have, substitute some great spices, and it'll taste just fine. Unless you're talking about salt. You have salt in your kitchen, right? And cloves of garlic? And black pepper? Good. No? Head over to Trader Joe's and deduct it from next week's budget. Oh, and for goodness sake, if the recipe says it serves four, we're dividing the ingredients by four, 'cause we're cooking for one. Gotcha?

[dearrhubarb]

How to spend $20/week on groceries in Manhattan

because you can do so much better

You know how, when your pretty, slightly oblivious friend starts sleeping with that creepy guy who won't leave her alone, you're secretly rolling your eyes and going "...but she can do SO much better!"? Okay, so I've never done online dating, but I bet it sort of works like this: if you live in a place where men, or women, are scarce, you take whatever you can get, but, if you're in, say, NYC, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Budget grocery shopping in Manhattan is a lot like looking for love: there are tons of options, so set your standards, shop around in the most probable locations, and DON'T SETTLE. That bodega that's trying to sell you a tomato for $5? give them the middle finger Yeah, whatever, keep walking. You can do SO much better.

Here's how I structure my grocery budget:

Here's what that translates to in real groceries:

Here are my commandments for budget grocery shopping in Manhattan. Lessons learned from paying my dues as a starving intern and then feeding a starving artist.

Know the market rate. How much should carrots really cost in this city? (Answer: less than a dollar per pound, even organic.*) What about salt? oil? peanut butter? Shop around at a few places and compare prices for the ingredients that are staples in your kitchen, and decide what's the maximum you're willing to pay for it. For example, I won't pay more than a dollar for sea salt, and my ceiling for any kind of jarred condiment (peanut butter, jam) is $3, and let's pass on the $5/lb celery, shall we?

(Mostly) Every store has bargains, and conversely some things are overpriced even at budget grocery stores. Trader Joe's is great for basic pantry items (condiments, pasta, dairy) but I find that their meat prices are on par with a meat counter or butcher, and fresh-baked bread can be had for better prices from a bakery. Union Square greenmarket, surprisingly, has stalls with bargain vegetables. Know your stores.

Instead of doing all your shopping at one store (because convenience comes at a cost, see above), plan a grocery crawl. This could be a single route done in one go on the weekend, or detours on your way home, spread out over the week. Soon it will become routine.

Spoil yourself a little. Want to splurge on those organic vegetables? Go for it, there's room to maneouver in your budget by going budget on other things like grains and condiments. But no, you can't do fancy truffle oil and quinoa and organic heirloom tomatoes and free-range rabbit and cage-free, flax-fed eggs and fair-trade indie-roasted coffee in the same week on this budget. Sorry. You gotta pick one.

Have a strong ethical stance or dietary preferences? See #4, prioritize your cage-free eggs, and adjust the rest of the budget accordingly.

Staples: spread these out over a few weeks. You'd be surprised at how far you can get with olive oil and sea salt this week. The balsamic vinegar can wait.

Here are my favourite locations for schtuff:

Union Square Market

What to get: in season veggies (around $2/lb), honey ($10 for 2 lbs), bargain fruit (ie. bulk apples, slightly soiled peaches, end-of-the-day produce that they want to get rid of), freeeee samples (can we say yum?) What breaks the bank: overpriced vegetables (shop around), artisan meat & cheese (though well worth it if you're looking to splurge, see commandment #4)

Fairway

What to get: leafy greens for under $3, dried pulses for under $2, eggs for $2.49, cheese for ~ $3, some meat What breaks the bank: fancy sea salt, above-market-rate fruit, fancy condiments

Trader Joe's

What to get: Spices ($1.99, yeah!), Fancy Sugar/Sweeteners (turbinado / cane / agave), Pasta, Dairy ($2.49 eggs, $2.79 milk), Peanut Butter ($2.49) What breaks the bank: sandwich bread, meat

Associates, Fine Fare, Hispanic Grocery Stores

What to get: grains(<$2, goya brand), beans<<$2, goya brand), oil(<$3), vinegar (<$1), salt (<$1), sugar (~$1) What breaks the bank: unappetizing meat, non-bargain veggies, non-bargain cheese

Asian Grocery Stores (Chinatown, Japanese Marts in East Village)

What to get: vegetables, fish, noodles, dried beans, dried grains, soy sauce, rice flour What breaks the bank: dairy

NEXT POST: What to cook for $20/week in NYC. Happy Grocery Hunting!

[dearrhubarb]

Maple Rutabaga Cake

In late winter, my mind wanders with restless anticipation.

My first trip away from home was on the Explore program in Trois-Pistoles, Quebec. Explore brings anglophone Canadians to french-speaking regions of Canada for five weeks of french immersion, and vice versa, so we were put in home stays with room and board and attended french classes (run by UWO in Trois-Pistoles) in the mornings and on some afternoons. I spent the rest of my time reading on the craggy beach between Trois-Pistoles and picturesque Rivière-Trois-Pistoles, hunting for waterfalls along the shore, or hiking the Sentier National, where the woods were just beginning to awaken from winter (this was in mid-May) and trillium bloomed shyly near melting snow drifts.

Five girls, including me, had meals at Marie-Josèphe's across the street from the school. We were very lucky: Marie-Josèphe, a merry grandmother who lived alone, was a splendid cook. I can't remember all of the things we ate, but they were hearty and typical Québécoise—breads, stews, roast vegetables, and fruit pies for dessert—and I devoured them all voraciously, perhaps to Marie-Josèphe's surprise for she affectionately called me la petite. Marie-Josèphe put maple syrup in almost everything she made, much like how my own grandmother's cooking never went without a dash of ginger. Marie-Josèphe would tell us fondly that the owner of the cabane à sucre where she got her maple syrup had been an old boyfriend of hers. So had a local fromager (by the way, look for the famous squeaky cheese curds if you're ever in the region!), the father of someone we'd just met in town, and so forth—Marie-Josèphe was a popular girl in her day.

I have been so glad to discover Ontario rutabaga in the dearth of fresh local produce this long winter. A mere dollar fifty apiece, these sweet turnips are about as big as my face and as heavy as my laptop (don't drop them on your foot!), and can feed me for a week. I've been subbing rutabaga for butternut squash and carrots to make rutabaga mac and cheese (baked pasta), rutabaga risotto, and rutabaga gnocchi. I'm going to try rutabaga hummus next.

Of course I had to pair the local rutabaga with some very Canadian maple syrup for this cake. The two are bound up with scenes of snow-melt and the cozy restlessness of early spring.

Maple Rutabaga Cake makes one small 6" bundt cake

1/2 cup rutabaga, mashed/grated 1/3 stick butter or olive oil 1/4-1/3 cup light brown sugar 1/4 cup maple syrup 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 1 egg 2/3 cup flour, whole wheat or rye, or try a blend of all purpose and ground sunflower seeds 1 tsp baking powder pinch of salt some spices, such as nutmeg + cayenne pepper, cardamom + cinnamon, fennel seeds + allspice

Preheat oven to 350°F Cream butter and sugar together Add rutabaga Add maple syrup and vanilla Beat in egg Mix in rutabaga and flour,salt and baking powder, until just mixed Bake at 350°F Dust with icing sugar(pictured above), or frost with a soft vanilla glaze

Vanilla glaze (optional) 2 tablespoons milk 1/4 cup granulated sugar 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/4 teaspoon vanilla 1/4 cup icing sugar 1/8 cup cornstarch to help set

Mix all together and drizzle on top.

note: this glaze stays soft

[dearrhubarb]

Wild Grape & Walnut Clafoutis

Ever since I was a little girl, I have been fascinated by the world of plants: the plant dyes that I would bookmark from books about Native American culture, the wild berries that the characters of my favourite books gathered in the forests and the barrens.  But I was also nature-illiterate: don't eat what you don't know, and since I belong to a species of city-folk who couldn't tell a cabbage from lettuce unless it were labelled by the grocery store, I didn't dare touch any of it, little knowing potion from poison.  I still remember hiking through the woods near Helsinki with a dear friend: as we wandered and chatted, she plucked berries from the ground for us to snack on.  I told her that never, ever in my life had I dared eat from the wilds.  "Where do you get you berries?"  she asked.  "At the supermarket." I replied.

Two years ago I joined a community garden that flourished in the shade of a wild mulberry tree.  We ate those berries abundantly, filling basket-fuls for snacks every morning, making jam, cakes, crumble bars, sorbet, and saving the leaves for one of my favourite herbal teas.  The mulberries lead me to examine other wild berries more closely, studying the shapes of their leaves and the ways they clustered to learn what they were.  Along the fence, a crop of vines sprawled... at first I thought they were wild currants, later I realized they were wild grapes.  I've had my eye on them since the end of August, when all my favourite blogs were making berry clafoutis, but wild grapes are sweetest after first frost, and are around all winter.

The pairing of grape and walnut flour makes this deep, rich, earthy.

Wild grapes, with their delicate tendrils, are said to be an aphrodisiac.

Wild Grape & Walnut Clafoutis

2 eggs 1/3 cup whole milk 1/4 cup cream 1/4 cup flour 2 tbsp walnut flour (you can make your own by grinding whole walnuts in a mortar and pestle or in the food processor) 1/4 cup sugar 1 tbsp coconut oil 1 teaspoon vanilla essence / grated vanilla bean pinch of salt zest of a lemon or orange

1 cup wild grapes

Preheat oven to 375 F.

In a small bowl, rub sugar and lemon/orange zest together with your fingers to infuse the sugar with citrus.

Grease a pan with coconut oil.  Place wild grapes at the bottom of the pan.  (I left the seeds in, but you can de-seed them if desired.)

Combine all the dry ingredients: flour, walnut flour, sugar/zest, salt.  Gently whisk in milk and eggs.

Pour batter on top of grapes.

Bake for 30-45 minutes.

[dearrhubarb]

Slow-Roasted Orange Fennel Lamb Shoulder with Mutsu Apple, Smoked Applewood Cheddar, Rutabaga and Pea Shoots Salad a simple indulgence

There is a phrase: "we'll make the purse-strings stretch," that is akin to me,  the daughter of accountants.  I have always been good at making the purse-strings stretch, treating it as a sort of game to see just how far they could stretch.  As a child, I was used to collecting hundreds of dollars' worth of red envelope money every Chinese New Years', and on the bus to school we little six-year-old first-graders would brag about how much we'd made.  I think we understood dimly, even then, that the possession of money was a source of pride, and that consequently we had to be good stewards.  I do not think squandering gift money was ever possible -- all gift money being, in reality, safely stowed in a bank account by our parents -- or ever even considered.

And so it is never without guilt that I buy treats for myself, and only very occasionally.  Occasionally is accurate: when the occasion calls for extravagance I will spend willingly, acknowledging that this is rare, perhaps once-in-a-lifetime, acknowledging that it is worthwhile.  For instance, when I am travelling, I like to indulge in one or two nice meals or perhaps sample my favourite foods from that place again on my last day, because I will not be able to taste the same such thing again for a long time.  At the end of 2014 I said good-bye to the farmers' market that this blog began as a love letter to, so in my last month I indulged, loosening my purse-strings to accommodate everything I loved that I would not get to savour again for awhile.

Usually I am restrained in my grocery shopping: I set a budget, purchase the necessities, then splurge on one or two shiny items that I can't resist.  But this dish contains quite a few things that I would consider extravagant, but each a source of delight: lamb shoulder, mutsu apple, smoked applewood cheddar.  It is a palette of wintry flavours, yet fresh and bright for January.

Lamb: I used to have little interest in cooking, or eating meat; in fact I was intimidated by cooking it, and turned off by the texture of most grocery store meat.   Over the years of visiting my farmer's market I fell in love with the pork from my favourite butcher, gradually progressing from easy pan-fried sausages and back bacon, to cuts like shoulder or ribs or hocks, that invoke advanced kitchen skills.  Whenever they have lamb in stock I avidly make room in my budget for it: I believe that in Southwestern Ontario, some of the best meat comes from Mennonite farmers. 

Mutsu Apples:  If you've been here for a while you know that I'm particular about my apples.  Now that wild apples and russets are over, I thought I'd have to resign myself to bland, industrial agriculture apples again.  Not so:  the Mutsu apple caught my eye with its light yellow amid all the deep glossy reds at the apple stand, and it is perfect for a salad: sweet, crisp and fragrant, but not boring or cloying.

Smoked Applewood Cheddar:  aka Smoky Cheese!  It's a white cheddar, firm but not hard, light, with a musky flavour that takes this salad over the top.  The photographs below show Pecorino because I ran out, but if you're the kind to splurge on cheese (I am!) do yourself a favour and try this one.

(Also, stay tuned for more winter-time rutabaga recipes, and take note that pea shoot sprouts are an easy way to have fresh greens in the midst of winter.)

Slow-Roasted Orange Fennel Lamb Shoulder with Mutsu Apple, Smoked Applewood Cheddar, Rutabaga and Pea Shoots Salad (a treat for one)

1 lamb shoulder (about 1/2 lb) juice of half an orange 1 tbsp orange zest 1 tsp fennel seeds 1 tsp salt 1 tsp black pepper 1 garlic bulb, grated

1 small rutabaga 1 handful pea shoot sprouts (sprout your own here) 1 small piece of smoked applewood cheddar 1 small mutsu apple

Rub spices all over the lamb shoulder, and marinate in orange juice for at least two hours.  i popped mine in the fridge overnight and forgot about it.  Drain.

Preheat oven to 400F.  When heated, place lamb in, fat side up, cover with lid, and immediately turn down heat to 325F.  Roast for 30 minutes, then allow to rest for 5-10 minutes.

In the meantime, grate the apple, rutabaga, and cheese, and toss with a handful of pea shoot sprouts.

Plate and serve!

[dearrhubarb]

Delicata Squash Gnocchi with Pear, Walnut and Homemade Ricotta & nostalgia and the Tiber

as the irrepressible molly yeh says, "january is the monday of months."  the last week has seen ever so many joyful odes to a shiny new year full of shiny new resolutions to aspire to, so i guess i must be the grinch who showed up late for new year's in refusing to make a toast of my own.  sorry.  (but) new year's is my least favourite holiday in the entire year.  if january is the monday of months, new year's day is sunday night, and we all know about sunday night blues.

besides, it's freezing outside, and nothing seems new at all.  ancient cultures -- the Chinese Spring Festival, the Persian Nowruz, the Roman calendar -- got it right in holding new year's in the spring, when soft rains wash away a year's worth of grime, there's the literal and figurative shedding of our heavy winter layers, and the gentle warmth of the earth veritably makes my heart sing.  in january, i should like nothing better than to be the groundhog that stays in his hole, snug and cozy, with no plans to poke his head out until conditions are favourable.  (that being impossible, i may resort to warming up with the last dregs of my holiday spiced rum.)  meanwhile i stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that time passes; i'm still scrawling 2014 in the margins of my notes.

(but here's to a happy new year, optimistically speaking)

because i'm nostalgic, and part of the reason why i started this blog was because i was so darn nostalgic for all the other lives i've lived, i made dumplings.  food is the best cure for homesickness/farsickness.  i learned to make gnocchi in a shadowy apartment by the Tiber in Rome, when my Italian roommate was hosting a dinner party.  she announced that she was making pasta ... and i was all, say what, you can make your own pasta?  so i hovered around the kitchen to help.

delicata squash, also know as sweet potato squash, is a must-try, delicious little squash, rich in flavour but not too heavy.  it makes a sweet, earthy, altogether unique gnocchi.  this is gnocchi con pere e noci, gnocchi in a pear and walnut sauce, the one my northern Italian roommate made my first time, so it reigns supreme in my gnocchi imagination.  it's a sweet, light, flavourful sauce that i prefer to the heavier buttery fare usually served with pumpkin gnocchi.  oh, and i made my own ricotta because cheese can break the bank.

this is a late fall/winter recipe to boot -- the delicata squash, walnuts and pears are all perfectly in season, and it's a warm, creamy and cozy, but fresh, fruity and light little meal.

Delicata Squash Gnocchi with Pear, Walnut and Homemade Ricotta

1 delicata squash 1 1/4 cup kamut flour (or all-purpose; i simply like the flavour of kamut) 1 egg

1 pear, diced 3 tbsp walnuts, coarsely chopped half an onion, diced 1/4 cup milk 1/2 cup homemade ricotta pinch of nutmeg, preferably freshly ground

for the gnocchi:

Preheat oven to 350F.  Halve the delicata squash, scoop seeds out, and roast, face down, until soft -- about 30 minutes.

Peel and discard the squash skin (or eat it, it's edible.)

Add squash, egg, and half a cup of kamut flour and mix until a rough ball forms.  Divide the dough into four.  Roll each out into long strips on a floured surface, then slice, forming small dumplings.  Press each dumpling with the back of a fork to form grooves.

Boil in salted water until they begin to float.

for the sauce:

In a small saucepan, add olive oil and lightly fry the diced onion.  Add the milk and ricotta, and nutmeg, and cook over low heat until creamy.  Add the pear and cook for an additional 3 minutes. 

Serve over gnocchi, and garnish with walnuts and finely grated parmesan.

[dearrhubarb]

Vanilla-Rum Crown Roast of Pork, Braised Cabbage & Pear, Citrus-Spiced Mushrooms with Pearl Barley, and a Chocolate Streusel Babka Wreath a feast for two

last Christmas we had an ice storm.  we lay in bed listening to the sleet against the windows, waiting for the power to come back on so we could stir up a pot of hot chocolate, before padding out cautiously into that sharp, glittering, glass-sheathed winter wonderland that is the aftermath of freezing rain. it was the sort of unrelenting beauty and havoc you might imagine the white witch of Narnia making.  this year, all our snow melted just in time for Christmas, leaving us with bursts of mild December sunshine, and grass so verdant that you might mistake this for spring.  we could go for long walks hand-in-hand with barely a coat on (so says the Canadian!), and come home craving not some cuddly-cozy marshmallow-fluffed cocoa, but a simple cup of green tea.

and yet.  green christmasses are mundane.  would Narnia be every bit as magical if we hadn't fallen through the wardrobe into a lamp-lit, snowy other world?  something about snow makes the ordinary otherworldly.  spring is my favourite season, but i don't think i can thrive in a winterless land.  without traversing cold and barren lands my soul cannot truly feel the joy of rebirth; it's not time yet for newness.

so with the mild weather, and life's busy-ness, we kept our Christmas quiet and light, making festiveness with our happiness in being together rather than the extravaganza of celebration.

vanilla-rum crown roast of pork

"i'm hosting Christmas," i remember proudly telling my friend's mother, capturing my excitement at doing my own holiday celebration for the first time, a very grown-up things i've looked forward to since when i was the little girl who collected recipe cards at grocery store checkout counters.  my friend's mother, who kept an impeccable table like a page out of Better Homes and Gardens with a repertoire of recipes at her arsenal, mentioned the lovely crown roasts that our Mennonite butcher sold. the butcher obligingly offered to make it with the smallest cut he had  -- I've never had meat like our butchers', never even liked meat, really, until I discovered my farmer's market, and now I want to try every cut they have.  crown roast is easily a showstopper centrepiece, plus it makes my boyfriend very happy.  it (the roast) got marinated in vanilla and rum for extra special sumptuousness.

1 crown roast of pork

for the marinade

2 vanilla beans, split and scraped zest of one orange 1 teaspoon cracked black pepper 1 cup brown sugar 1 cup orange juice 2 bay leaves 2 cinnamon sticks 1 cup water 1 cup rum

Cook all ingredients except for the rum in a saucepan over medium heat until sugar is melted and flavors have begun to meld. Remove from heat and add rum. cool marinade, then Pour over pork roast in a large bowl. Refrigerate for 24-48 hours.

for the roast

follow Kenji's foolproof instructions on serious eats (basically, roast in preheated oven at 250F for 3 hours, rest tented for 20 minutes, then roast at 500F for 15 minutes to crisp outer skin, rest tented for 15 minutes)

braised "red" cabbage and pear

"didn't they have any red cabbages?" i asked in dismay as my boyfriend stepped through the door, bearing the fruits of the grocery-run i'd sent him on.  you see, i'd had it all pictured out: the triumphant crown roast, graced by sides that were homey yet healthy, simple and vibrant accompaniments to a gorgeous cut of pork. vibrant meant this photogenic braised cabbage that i knew would look charming on the Christmas table.  so we had to go buy a red beet to dye the green cabbage, hello #foodbloggerproblems.  hey, it all worked out, and grated beet and pear makes this dish sweet and earthy.

based on Gingerandbread's Braised Red Cabbage

1 head of cabbage, red or green, sliced thinly 1 small beet, grated 1 large pear, sliced 1 small onion, sliced thinly 1-2 strips bacon 1/2 cup soup stock, or roast pork drippings 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

Heat bacon over low heat until pan is greased.  Add sliced onions and sautée until translucent, allowing bacon grease to pool up.  Add cabbage and toss until very slightly browned.

Add beet, pear, vinegar, salt and pepper, continue tossing.  Add stock and cover, simmering over low heat for 30 minutes to an hour.

lemon-cinnamon mushroom with pearl barley

 "i love mushrooms!" "i love mushrooms, too!"  "this could work out," my boyfriend decreed solemnly.  that was how our earliest chatter went, and here we are a few odd years later.  we make every variation of mushroomy meals we can find, and we always make sure there are mushrooms on our table, especially for a celebratory occasion.

I made Ottolenghi's mushroom shallot ricotta stew, using just cremini mushrooms (use whatever mushrooms you have on hand,) adding 1 cup of cooked pearl barley sautéed in lemon juice and lemon zest at the end

chocolate streusel babka wreath

cabbage whorls.  crown roasts.  wreaths.  rings and wreaths and circles all evoke celebration, so this braided babka bent itself into a christmassy wreath.

I halved this recipe (it's a rather Ottolenghi Christmas!), adding a layer of streusel (1/4 cup rice flour, 1.5 tbsp brown sugar, 1.5 tbsp coconut oil, 1 tsp salt) to the chocolate before rolling, and twisting into a wreath instead of a loaf.

i hope your holidays were met with much merrymaking!

[dearrhubarb]

The Delights of Anticipation

{ Winter Dreams Inspiration/Link Love }

i used to count down the days until I could start singing Christmas carols.  Christmas is my favourite time of the year.  that thrill when, one evening, you notice that Christmas lights have gone up over Main Street, when suddenly everyone around you is shrouded in the secretiveness of making gifts (I have craftsy friends), when homemade cookies seem to materialize out of thin air.  i verily revel in all this festiveness.

in a few days, my boyfriend will be flying here for Christmas, and I'll be tracking his flight across the Atlantic as eagerly as I'll track Santa's trajectory on Christmas eve. i'm so excited i've made countless lists and spreadsheets of what we'll eat!  here's my fantasy holiday menu:

cozying up...

'tis is my favourite time of the year!  the drab dourness of November behind us, the crisp beauty and snowfall of December beckoning.  Christmas day can feel anti-climactic, but the glowing warmth of the days leading up to it something i hold close and savour.

from top left: Dagmar Kitchen's Raw beet salad with honey vinaigrette, hazelnuts and feta cheese, My Natural Kitchen's maple mustard brussel sprouts and roasted apple salad, Brooklyn Supper's wild rice and mushroom soup, Dagmar Kitchen's carrot orange soup with spicy chickpeas and sautéed tuscan kale (or a carrot curry soup here, carrot parsnip here), My Blue and White Kitchen's Moose Goulash (if only a moose would come trotting by my window for Christmas!)

counting down...

i'm determined to craft my own Christmas cookie traditions, and there's no dearth of inspiration on the internet for my future cookie repertoire.  ones I've added to my to-make list this year:

from bottom left: The Foodie Teen's adorable (sugar-free, vegan) Peppermint Marshmallow Snowmen, accompanied by My Blue and White Kitchen's  magical rose pistachio horse (or the original rosewater shortbread), are heading to Baking Magique's gingerbread tipi.  A little Spingerle girl from Gingerandbread's impressive advent cookieland wants to visit the tipi, too.  What stories will they find inside?   Herriott Grace's lavendar shortbread wreath hangs in the sky, while Alice Medrich's (nut-free! score for allergies) buckwheat linzer cookies illuminate the land.

feasting

i have the most beautiful roast on order at my wonderful local Mennonite butcher's, and some lovely sides planned (stay tuned!), but if we were not making that, here's all the other food I'm daydreaming of.

christmas morning The Gouda Life's Cinnammon Chai Waffles Amy Chaplin's Warm Citrus Smoothie or  Call-me-Cupcake's Gingerbread Latte

to dine Valentina Hortus's Truffled Hummus Pizza Roll Amy Chaplin's Squash and Bean Tart and a Shaved Brussels Sprout Salad Green Kitchen Stories' Parsnip Christmas Cake

celebrating

my birthday comes several short days after Christmas, so I'm also bookmarking contenders for my birthday cake.  any suggestions?

from right to left: Golubka's Chocolate Pomegranate Cake, Top with Cinnamon's Gingerbread Whiskey Cake (to feel all grown-up), food by mars's Maple Meringue Buttercream Carrot Cupcake (though I'm not a Sagittarius), le jus d'orange's Matcha Green Tea Cake with amazing vertical layers

see the rest on Pinterest

All images used in this post belong to their respective owners.  Snowflake ornaments and Christmas Tree photos are my own.

[dearrhubarb]

The Gift of Making Maple Syrup Ginger Thins (gluten-free, or not)

Most of the adults in my life would agree that I was a very lucky kid.  I was an only child, but I was rarely lonely because I felt more at home in the world of adults than that of children.  I had a bevy of "aunties" (my mum's non-parent friends) who were all vying to be that cool aunt, the one who "wins" at gift-giving.  Though the best gifts vary from age to age, my favourites were consistently not dolls nor books (though I was, and still am, an avid reader and daydreamer), but tools: buckets and shovels for building sandcastles when I were three, child-sized cookie cutters and a rolling pin at age seven, a friendship bracelet pattern book and gradients of embroidery floss for nine-year-old me.  The best afternoons were not those spent playing (after a while there's little novelty in amusing yourself), but learning.  Even then, I deemed it a precious gift to be taught a worthy skill: to fold a dumpling, to draw a straight line without a ruler, for my mom to take time after dinner to teach me how to wash my socks by hand, ergo, to mill around the adults with adult-worthy tasks to complete.

We kept my plastic cookie cutters in the same drawer as the "real" kitchen tools.  I was elated when mum had time to take them out for an afternoon of cookie-making.  Mind you, we weren't very good cookie-makers, mum and I, and Christmas cookie making wasn't a tradition (though Chinese New Years' cookies are, and I faintly recall being the toddler mashing gok jai scraps into dough balls at my grandmother's kitchen table).  We subsisted, instead, on those delightful Danish blue tin butter cookies.  But the best part about being an adult (and being from a tiny family) is that you get to invent your own traditions, and lately I've decided that I want my own Christmas cookie-repertoire, curating my own favourites alongside my boyfriend's family traditions.  The first Christmas cookies I fell in love with were these Swedish ginger cookies (Pepparkarkor) from delicious days (where there is a world of other beyond-gorgeous cookies that I hope to have time to try).

I was still a cookie-novice the first time I made these nearly seven years ago, so -- I didn't know how to make molasses or where to get it, but figured that maple syrup was about the same thing.  Just like how most happy accidents go, these Nordic cookies with a Canadian twist were born.

These cookies are the only ones I want to eat en masse at Christmas: thin, delicate, lightly spiced; a far cry from your usual icing-encrusted gingerbread persons.  They're one of the only recipes where I make the entire recipe as opposed to a small-batch division.  But If you can resist eating them all right away, they really do get better after a few days, stored in an airtight cookie tin.

Maple Syrup Ginger Thins (gluten-free, or not) adapted from Swedish Ginger Christmas Cookies (Pepparkarkor)

1/2 cup maple syrup 1 stick (1/2 cup) butter 1/2 cup brown sugar 3 cups all-purpose flour, OR gluten-free: 2 cups rice flour, 2/3 cups buckwheat flour, 1/3 cup cornstarch 1/2 tsp cinnamon 1/2 tsp ground ginger 1/4 tsp baking soda 1/4 tsp grated nutmeg 1/4 tsp salt 1/4 tsp crushed black pepper 1 large egg

Bring butter, sugar and maple syrup to a boil in a small pan over medium heat, stirring occasionally.  Nicole says you should let the sugar crystals dissolve, I didn't bother.  Let cool.

Combine flour, salt, baking soda and spices in a bowl.  Make a hole in the middle and add the egg and molasses mixture.  Stir to combine until a ball forms, adding more flour by the spoonful if needed.

Refrigerate, covered, for at least two hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 350°F / 175°C.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface, as thinly as possible: mine were about 1mm thick.  Cut into desired shape.

Bake for 8-10 minutes on a parchment-lined tray, until they have just turned golden brown.

These cookies are in good company at the Christmas Cookie Week 2014 hosted by The Speckled Palate (which I discovered via pink patisserie.)  See all the other amazing cookie recipes here.

[dearrhubarb]

Snowy Day Pear Cake a gluten-free pear and chocolate olive oil cake

It snowed!!!! I'm ridiculously giddy when it snows for the first time every year. I perch myself on the windowsill and gaze outside like a cat, mesmerized by the big, fat, silent snowflakes.  A snow-blanketed landscape is a scene of perfect peace: all messiness and grit obfuscated by pure whiteness, time slows down in the quiet, and (surely) amongst the gathering snowdrifts there's momentary oblivion.

Recharged from this reverie, you'll catch me dancing around the room in pure elation, puttering through my pantry supplies, stirring hot chocolate, heating my leaky studio apartment by turning on the oven.  Pears and chocolate: pears, because there's something icy and elusive in every bite that makes them quintessentially wintery: elegant, aloof, unpredictable, unlike their friendly apple cousins.  Chocolate, because chocolate! and it's December and it's snowing.  No explanations necessary for fruit and chocolate.

I have dreamed about smitten kitchen's torta di pere for a long time, lured by the vicarious joy of Deb's writing.  But as usual, I can't follow a recipe (not to the letter), so although I followed SK's techniques to beat the eggs into a self-rising shiny custard, I took notes elsewhere, here and there, to come up this gluten-free pear and chocolate olive oil cake,

Pear and Chocolate Olive Oil Cake (gluten-free)

dry ingredients ⅔ cup brown rice flour ⅓ cup almond flour 2 tbsp coarsely ground yellow cornmeal 1 tbsp baking powder 1 tbsp cornstarch 1 tsp salt

wet ingredients ⅔ cup full-fat Greek yogurt ⅓ cup olive oil 3 eggs at room temperature 3/4 cup sugar

3 pears, finely diced 3/4 cup bittersweet chocolate chunks Preheat oven to 350°F/ 180°C.  Grease a 9" springform pan and dust with flour (I used two 7" "pans," ie. an old cookie tin) Combine all flours, baking powder and salt. Whisk yogurt and olive oil together until just combined. Whisk eggs until pale and very thick.  Deb's description is "one of the coolest things about baking this cake is the eggs, that are beaten far beyond “combined” or “fluffy” but until they have the volume of a shiny, velvety ribbon of a custard."  She recommends using a mixer on high speed, but I didn't have one, so I whipped them by hand for a very long time.  I was on the phone, so I wasn't bored. Add sugar to the eggs and continue whipping until just combined. Add the remaining ingredients in layers: three layers of flour, with olive oil/yogurt in the middle.  Add in one third of the flour mixture, and then half the olive oil and yogurt.  Add in another third of the flour and the rest of the butter, and the rest of the flour.  Fold batter until just combined, taking care that the whisked eggs do not lose volume. Sprinkle the pear and chocolate chips on top. Bake for 40-50 minutes until a skewer comes out clean.

Allow to cool, and dust with icing sugar or almond meal.

PS.  I've decided to participate in The Speckled Palate's Christmas Cookie Week.  Anyone can join; see the link for details.  Then check back in a few days for cookies!

[dearrhubarb]

Cooking for One: Eight Dollars’ Worth of Late-Autumn Harvests - Part II

When you’re cooking for one, a little goes a long way. This series is about maximum variety with seasonal vegetables from the farmer’s market. It’s about eating fresh, local food on a budget for small-batch home cooks.

(see part 1 here)

Magical Squash in Everyday Meals

I'm enamoured by all the different sizes and shapes of winter squash.  All the idiosyncracies of colour and texture and geometry make them cute, fascinating... no wonder Cinderella's fairy godmother saw potential for magical transformation in an old pumpkin.  So every time I spot a new variety, I simply have to have it, as if I've unearthed some ancient and obscure magical object that I must bring home and carefully examine. 

What happens after the squash decorates my countertop for a few joyful days is quite mundane.  I really like butternut squash mac 'n' cheese: a childhood favourite with a little more substance.  I'm no pizza purist (though I abide by thin-crust and daydream of Brooklyn pizza), so if you haven't figured it out yet, the secret to deliciousness is to put it on pizza dough.  Risotto is a weekly staple in my world: stir, stir, stir, imagine you're a witch or a grandmother (or both!), and it's ready to eat.

The fanciest I got was to put roasted squash in a vegetable pie.  Or you could just roast the squash, sprinkle with olive oil and honey and sea salt, and eat it (what I did at my laziest.)

I steam-roast my squash whole (just pop the whole thing in the oven) because I'm too lazy to peel or slice.  When cooked, I halve it, scoop out the seeds to save and roast, allow to cool, slice into quarters.  I find that one quarter of a squash -- approximately 3/4 cups of squash purée -- is just the right amount to spread on a personal size pizza, or stir into a batch of mac 'n' cheese.  So two squashes make at least 8 meals.

I use different winter squashes interchangeably, in other words I use whichever squash variety I have on hand, treating their unique flavour profiles as a surprise in familiar simple dish.

Soup Season

I adore soup, and you can't get any simpler.  Pumpkin soup has been one of my favourite foods for a very long time.  This apple and celeriac soup is a "breath of freshness" -- you know, earthy root vegetable but reminiscent of the flavours of spring -- amid all the hearty winter stews.

Recipes

One-Pot Squash Mac 'n' Cheese - How do you make it one-pot?  Well, I cook the pasta in salted boiling water first and drain, keeping the pasta in the pan.  In the same pan, I melt butter at the bottom, fry up an onion, add a tablespoon of flour to make a roux.  All this gets tossed around with the pasta, and then I add the butternut squash purée, chili flakes, cumin, and enough milk to make everything creamy, and then grated cheese.  Then bake until it's crunchy on top.  I hope you used a stainless steel (or other oven-ready) pan.

Squash Risotto - I don't really use a recipe, but the steps are similar to this one.  I used about a 1 1/4 cups of rice and 3/4 cups of squash purée, and enough stock to cook the rice al dente.

Squash Pizza - I skipped the zucchini since I didn't have any (#seasonal-eater-dillemma), and used dollops of yogurt as a cheese topping.

Winter Squash Stuffed Pizza Pie - I made the one pictured with kabocha squash and tomato slices, but squash and apple and onion would be just as good.

Apple and Celeriac Soup

Kabocha Squash Soup

Roast Squash Seeds

[dearrhubarb]

Cooking for One: Eight Dollars' Worth of Late-Autumn Harvests - Part I

When you're cooking for one, a little goes a long way. This series is about maximum variety with seasonal vegetables from the farmer's market. It's about eating fresh, local food on a budget for small-batch home cooks.

You know how much I love my farmer's market, how I get up early every Saturday morning to walk there, with a drowsy fervour reminiscent of going to church as as kid? (Incidentally, the market is right next to a church, and the lovely church ladies have a stall with the best homemade pies.)  And how I've avowed that the prices for good-quality produce at the market can't be beat?  Sometimes I treat budgeting like a contest with myself, a "Can I beat that price?" game.  Well, here we are at the end of harvest, and you really need to see all these beauties I scored.  For eight dollars!  You can imagine how proud of myself I was.

My cooking routine goes something like this: I'll bookmark a bunch of recipes with common ingredients, such as "what can I make with tomatoes and eggs and peppers?" A whole range of stuff from different cuisines, actually.  So if I'm shopping once a week, I'll get around 5-7 different fresh ingredients, including vegetables and meats, and get creative with whatever I feel like making during the week. 

Except in this case, I was beguiled by the adorable squash and those shiny beets.  My penchant for unconventional vegetables won out, and I bought whatever looked too good to resist, figuring that I'll figure it all out later.  And guess what?  Constraints breed creativity.  The resulting meals might be unconventional, but they were delightful and delicious.

Here's the bill:

One Butternut Squash - $1 One Kabocha Squash - $1 One Celery Root - $1 Four Purple Peppers - $1 Five Apples - $1 on a student discount, normally $2 Bundle of Organic Beets - $3, they were going to cut the tops off, but don't let them!

The butcher paper-wrapped packages are lamb sausages ($3.50 for two) and PEI oysters ($2.50), and I also got flax-fed eggs ($5) and yogurt from the grocery store ($1.88), so as usual, I came out just over $20.

Full disclosure:  A leftover tomato and purple onion also made it into these dishes.  And if you haven't guessed by now, I keep an array of different flours and spices at my disposal, so the actual costs for everything made here is upwards from $20.  For the nitpickers, feel free to throw in the costs of electricity, oh, and priceless time and skill... what about all the years I've spent teaching myself how to cook, developing a repertoire of recipes for easy meals?  Fortunately there are 365 days a year and most people eat three meals a day, so there are ample opportunities to practice. :)

Beet Greens I went for the beet greens first, knowing that they would wilt before long.  (To extend their shelf-life, I kept them wrapped in damp paper towels in a plastic bag in the fridge.)  Beet greens seem to be somewhere between kale and swiss chard in terms of appearance, but with a sweet, earthy flavour, so that's what I based my recipes off of. The first meal was a beet green salad with pan-fried celeriac and sausage-topped oysters, since the oysters were best-eaten fresh, too.  The second, a beet green fritatta.  I made a few of these amazingly delicious beet burgers served on a leaf wrap, hands-down my favourite veggie burger recipe: one grated beet makes one burger patty, so that means lunch for days.  The rest of the beet greens became pesto, most of which I had with pasta.

I diced the beet green stems to add some crunch to the sausage and rice stuffing for stuffed peppers.  They were topped with yogurt and baked.  (Not photographed, but I also made stuffed peppers with rice and butternut squash.)

That was a copious bundle of greens.

That's why you should never let your vendor throw away the beet green tops.

Pizza When you're at a loss for ideas, pizza is always your friend.  I love a good traditional margarita, but I'm not above creative deviations... here's a thin-crust dough, covered with yogurt and topped it with slices of beet and lamb sausage.  Baked red beets on yogurt is a magical juicy, crunchy creamy goodness, the yogurt bakes up into dollops of cheese and beet juice leaks all over it while the beet becomes a crispy chip.  You should really try it, It's one of my favourite homemade pizza options.  It was loosely inspired by this.

Did I mention that baked yogurt is a frugal alternative to cheese?

We haven't even gotten started on the winter squash yet, and there's still a good chunk of celery root left in our stores.  More on pizza in the next post!

[dearrhubarb]

Golden Russets, for a Maple-Thyme Apple Pie

i've always felt indifferent towards apples.  A is for apple, so we learn in kindergarten; apples are red: a primary colour; they're one of the first shapes you learn to draw.  Red Delicious apples were invariably found in the fruit bowl on my parents' dining room table.  for the most part I found apples unbearably boring.  i'd much rather comb the grocery store for an exotic, funky-shaped fruit, preferably with an un-pronunciable name, than chew my way through the monotony of pale apple flesh.

then I discovered that grocery store apples are bred to be bland, but that there was a world of heirloom apples beyond that had been nearly obliterated by industrial farming.  i went hunting for wild apples with childish delight earlier this fall; the unusual apple varieties at my market bring me the same thrill of excitement that I had hitherto only experienced with unfamiliar fruit.  unlike commercially-bred apples, which are uniform in taste, heirloom apples have personality: every bite is a surprise that hints at a flavour more elusive, a first note and an aftertaste.  my favourites are these dusky, tawny russets, which are thought to taste of hazelnuts and maple-syrup, delicately nutty and subtly sweet.  they're unassuming brown things at first glance, easily ignored by the unenlightened consumer, but to me they are the most beautiful apples at the market.

they made their way into this creamy apple pie that's just slightly spiced with nutmeg, vanilla and a few spoonfuls of maple sugar.  russets are firm apples that hold their shape well, so sugar isn't really necessary.  i didn't want to add much, at risk of marring the delicate flavour of the russets.  it bakes up into a heavenly deliciousness that reminds me of the subtlety and complexity of a good wine.  for contrast, I went for a herb-scented crust: mine was laced with thyme from my garden, but I think rosemary would be just as lovely.

Creamy Golden Russet Apple Pie with thyme and maple inspired by La Grange's Maple Sugar Apple Pie

for the crust 2 cups flour 1 tablespoon sugar 2 tablespoons semolina flour ½ tablespoon finely chopped thyme or rosemary 1 teaspoon sea salt 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar 8 tablespoons butter, chilled 4 tablespoons lard, chilled ½ cup ice-cold water

for the filling 2/3 cups granulated maple sugar, or 1/3 cup maple syrup & 1/3 cup light brown sugar 1/3 cup evaporated milk 1/4 cup all-purpose flour 3 tablespoons butter, softened 5 large russet apples, sliced 1 teaspoon nutmeg 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 teaspoon sea salt

Make the pie crust several hours or a day ahead of time, according to your favourite instructions.

Preheat the oven to 375F.

Heat milk and sugar in a small saucepan over low heat, stirring until dissolved.  Toss in apples and spices.  Let cool.

Cream butter and flour together.  Fold the milk and apple mixture in, until just combined.

Pour into shell, and weave a lattice crust, or your choice of crust top.

Bake for 40-45 minutes until the heavenly scent draws you to the stove.

[dearrhubarb]

Beetroot Double-Chocolate Muffin

Sometimes, the blogosphere reads my mind.  Maybe it's no uncanny coincidence, maybe we're merely moved by the same seasonal cravings.  All summer long I was too busy grazing on berries and stone fruit to miss it, but with the smoky autumnal air and eerie winds seeping in at night, suddenly I wanted chocolate, badly.  That very day, Cynthia posted a recipe for whole grain double-chocolate muffins from Izy's book, and I set about making it right away with whatever I had on hand: subbing in rice flour for oats and buckwheat for whole wheat.  I was pacing the kitchen, pondering on a remedy for the fact that I was out of sugar, when I saw all the apples I'd buy but then tend to forget to eat.  The batter came together and 'twas baked and devoured.

I had a thrill of déjà-vu when Thea posted a recipe for gluten-free double-chocolate muffins with nearly the same ingredients, and I realized with a pang that I never wrote my version down.  The thing is, I usually don't write recipes down: the first attempt I consider experimental, throwing in a little bit of this and that, so I don't bother taking notes. If it turn out well it gets recreated, but that's when I'm riddled with self-doubt and wonder if the first time was just a fluke?  Predictably, my next passes were hit-and-miss, I tried two apples, a ripe banana (works but the banana scent's too overpowering), reduced the cacao powder, toyed with the proportion of neutral-tasting rice to nutty buckwheat, and continued to go down the internet rabbit hole in search of sugar substitutes that weren't just half a jar of honey or maple syrup (because as much as I love honey, it is rightfully expensive.)  I finally found the answer waiting for me in one of my favourite things to sneak into chocolatey desserts: red beets.  Add in a sweet apple and a tiny bit of maple syrup, and the muffin comes out not too sweet but naturally flavourful.  Be sure to use the sweetest apple variety and the freshest, sweetest beets you can find.

Making the illustration, I noticed just how plant-based this recipe is, which makes me quite happy, as if the muffin contains a mouthful of a garden.  Here every vegetable, fruit or grain adds its own note: the sweet, earthy beets, a dependably sweet apple, the depth of maple syrup (but a specialty honey like buckwheat honey would be equally gorgeous), nutty buckwheat, sweet oat flour, soft rice flour, and crazily delicious hazelnut almond milk.  Cynthia's suggestion of rosemary sea salt adds something unexpectedly dreamy, a waft of a summer garden.  You can also make the recipe vegan by substituting flax eggs.  Of course, chocolate is a vegetable. ;)

Beetroot Double-Chocolate Muffin (gluten-free, sugar-free)

mostly dry ingredients, for the muffin mix: 1 cup white rice flour 1/2 cup buckwheat flour 1/2 cup oat flour (make sure it's gluten-free oats) 1/2 cup cacao powder 3/4 cup dark chocolate chips 1 teaspoon baking soda 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 vanilla bean 1/2 teaspoon rosemary sea salt

1/2 cup vegetable oil / coconut oil

wet ingredients: 1 large beetroot, grated -- around 3/4 cup tightly packed 1 large sweet apple (I used fuji), grated -- around 3/4 cup tightly packed 2 tablespoons maple syrup 2/3 cups hazelnut almond milk, do not strain out the pulp. OR use your choice of dairy/plant milk, but add an extra tablespoon of maple syrup. 2 large eggs or flax eggs

1/2 tsp rosemary sea salt, for sprinkling

Combine all dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl.  Rub in the oil with your fingers.  This makes a muffin mix that will keep in the freezer for up to 3 months.

To make the muffins:

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Grate the beetroot and apple into a bowl.

In a separate bowl, beat the eggs until fluffy.  Add the hazelnut almond milk and maple syrup.

Fold the muffin mix and the grated beetroot and apple into the wet mixture.  Mix until just combined.

Divide into muffin tins and sprinkle with rosemary sea salt.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.