Iced Rooibos Almond Milk Latte with Cinnamon and Honey
Do you ever just fall so in love with a company? You know, when you go into a shop and just love everything in it so much you wish you owned the place? And then you meet the owner and they are so lovely and you just are so thrilled to have found them?
There are only a handful of places like this for me. This great little shop on Main St., the izakaya down the street from me, the sadly closed Little Nest. The kind of places that immediately just feel perfect. Well, I’ve got a new one for the list, and I have to talk about it because I’m so royally obsessed.
A friend of mine posted something about this nut milk company on facebook, and on a whim I ordered some. And then something amazing happened, this lovely woman who makes almond milk, and hazelnut milk, and hazelnut-cocoa milk, delivered it, in a mason jar, to my door on her bicycle.
Seriously.
Is that not the cutest thing you’ve ever heard of? And, like you would imagine a bicycle riding nut milk making woman to be, she is this bubbly, bright sunshine-y person.
Not only is she lovely, but her milks are amazing. They are made from organic nuts (from California except the hazelnuts which she picks herself about an hour outside of Vancouver), and are just wildly more flavourful than the chemical laden stuff at the grocery store.
As, despite my greatest attempts to ignore it, my body doesn’t really like dairy, this is pretty wonderful for me. You can probably tell I’m excited.
So I’ve been trying out new ways to play around with her products, and what I keep finding is just how brilliant almond milk is with roibos tea. It’s the perfect match for me, hot or cold.
This is just a simple recipe, so simple I almost didn’t post it, but it’s too good I had too. Also, I had to talk about how great Nuez milks are, because I’m a little obsessed.
Iced Rooibos Almost Milk Latte with Cinnamon and Honey
Per Drink
1 tsp Rooibos Tea
1 tsp Honey
½ cup Almond Milk
1 Cinnamon Stick (or a pinch of ground cinnamon)*
Ice
*if you are doubling (or tripling!) the recipe you do not need to add more cinnamon.
Boil cup of water.
Put the tea into a tea strainer and put into a teapot. Add the cinnamon stick and pour the water on top.
Let this steep for at least 5 minutes if not longer.
Pour the tea into a large cup.
Add the honey and stir until it is combined.
Add in a few ice cubes and stir until the tea is cooled completely. Add the almond milk.
Apparently my Grammy made much more than just biscuits and pies and “Frenched” green beans. She also only served broccoli with hollandaise, always made her own bread and tended a beautiful garden that yielded an enormous bounty of fresh veggies. In the words of my mom, her adoring daughter
“ My Mom grew up in poverty - emotional and financial - and her childhood home was chaotic. No-one cooked or cleaned and there was never enough food. So her home had to be perfect. She was remarkable.”
She was remarkable. And while she may have made a slew of other delicious foods, I will always think of her biscuits (“cloud biscuits” because they are heavenly and light). They were magnificent.
These are just a slight variation, I use butter instead of shortening, because I suspect she might have too, if it wasn’t for budgeting. And here of course, I’ve added some spices and currants to the mix, and topped them with an icing cross to be festive. But they are none the less my Grammy’s cloud biscuits, and they are remarkable, much like their creator.
Hot Cross Biscuit
2 cups AP Flour
¼ cup Sugar
1 ½ tsp Cinnamon
½ tsp Ground Ginger
½ tsp Ground Nutmeg
4 tsp Baking Powder
½ cup Butter, cut into small cubes.
½ cup Currants
1 tsp Salt
2/3 cup Buttermilk
1 Egg
1 Yolk
1 cup Icing Sugar
1 tsp Vanilla Extract
In a large mixing bowl mix together all of the dry ingredients.
Toss in the butter and using your hands (or a pastry cutter) and break the butter up into pea-sized pieces.
Add the egg to the buttermilk and whisk it until combined.
Add the liquids into the flour mixture and stir until it just starts to come together.
Add in the currants and press the dough out, and then fold it in half. Repeat this 5-10 more times until the dough has lots of layers and has formed a cohesive dough, but remains very soft- as soon as you start to feel the dough resisting stop.
On a lightly floured surface press the dough down so that it is ¾ inch thick. Cut the dough into circles- do not twist when you do this! Go straight up and down!
Put the circles on a parchment lined tray and put them in your freezer for 20 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 400F.
Mix the yolks with 1 tbsp of water. Brush the egg wash on all of the biscuits and bake for 20 minutes, or until the outsides are nicely browned. Allow to cool completely.
Meanwhile mix together the icing sugar and vanilla extract with 1 tsp of water. Put in a piping bag (or a Ziploc with a hole cut in it) and pipe on the crosses.
Sunday Salads- Roasted Butternut Squash with Pomegranate and Za'atar
The Italian in me just wants to make the simplest food. It doesn’t want to be fussy. It doesn’t want spend hours cutting things just so or mixing 25 ingredients into a salad dressing. My Italian side also pretty much just wants to make gnocchi and tomato sauce all day, which, though delicious, would not make for the most interesting blog.
Fortunately, I have fallen deeply in love with Middle Eastern food. The rich flavors, the complex spice mixes, the vegetable forward way of eating. The more I cook like this, the more I realize that the Italian way of eating simple food, not doing too much to it, that totally unfussy way of cooking seems to fit right in.
It’s actually been kind of exciting to me, to try new spices and spice blends and treat them to the ways I’ve always cooked food. This salad is a great example. I love squash, and roasting it up with red onions and tossing it with some greens and nuts in a simple vinaigrette is something that I would always do. But in this Middle Eastern update, I toss the onions in pomegranate molasses before roasting them, and add fresh pomegranate on top. I toss everything together with some salt and lemon and za’atar, an amazing spice blend of oregano, cumin and sesame seeds, that you can buy already blended and ready to go. Then I put a bowl of garlicky yoghurt on the side to dip the salad in.
The result is something so much more complex and rich than I would have ever made before, but is still incredibly simple and easy to do.
Small miracles friends. They do happen.
Squash and Pomegranate Salad with Za’atar
2 small Kombucha or Butternut Squash
¼ Pomegranate
1 Red Onion
2 tbsp Pomegranate Molasses*
½ Lemon
1 tbsp Za’atar
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper
For Garlicky Yoghurt:
¾ cup Greek Yoghurt
2 large clove Garlic
1 tsp Salt
1 tsp Lemon Juice
Preheat your oven to 425F
Peel the squash- butternut squash can be peeled with a peeler, the kombucha squash will need to be done with a knife and some patience. Be careful!
Cut the squash in half and scoop out the seeds. Wash the seeds and toss them with some salt and a good glug of olive oil. Put them on a tray and bake for about 20 mintues, stirring every 5 mintues.
Cut the squash into ½ inch wedges and lay them out on a baking tray. Toss with a good glug of olive oil and a healthy pinch of salt. Bake for about 45 minutes, or until the squash is fully cooked.
Peel the red onion and cut it in half. Cut into thin strips and toss with salt and the pomegranate molasses. Put them on a baking tray and roast them for about 20 minutes, or until they are soft and a little bit caramelized.
Phew! No more roasting!
Meanwhile make the garlicky yoghurt:
Smash up the garlic as small as you possible can. Mix it with the yoghurt, salt and lemon juice.
When the squash are still warm sqeeze the lemon juice on top and toss to mix. Check your seasoning and add some salt if you need.
Put the squash on a platter. Top with the onions and roasted squash seeds, and break apart the pomegranate and sprinkle the seeds on top.
Psst. If you head over to HelloGiggles you can get my blood orange cordial recipe! It's the perfect way to keep making blood orange gin fizzes all summer long!
om grew up with what she calls “Depression Era” food. The sort of get-as-much-fat-in-you-while-you-can-because-you-don’t-know-when-food-will-be-around-next. The sort of food inspired by the hardships her parents faced when they were young. She had never had a green bean not cooked in cream sauce until her twenties.
It wasn’t food that was based around quality ingredients, or fresh ingredients, or local produce, except incidentally. In fact I’ve only really heard her talk about a handful of things she ate as a kid. Mostly we talk about her moms “cloud” biscuits, which are legendary in my family. They are outrageously good. As are Grammy’s gingerbread cookies and her pies. The other food-things that my mom talks about from when she was wee, is corn and trout, which are things her dad made.
For corn, my Grampy would have a pot of water boiling on the stove, and then, and only then, would he go outside and cut the corn, shuck it, and bring it inside to boil. The pot had to be boiling. It’s the only way to eat corn.
The other thing my Grampy did was go trout fishing. He’d wake up at the crack of dawn and escape the kids and watch the sunrise. And then he’d fry up trout for breakfast for the family. My mom starts smiling when she talks about those trout.
I’ve been thinking an awful lot about Grampy lately. I cleaned out my desk the other day and found a slew of cards I’ve written him and never sent. Which is ridiculous. I’ve got stamps, I’ve got envelopes. I’ve got cute little cards. They have thoughtful notes written out. Why haven’t I sent them? They do no good here.
The other thing I found was all these letters that he’s sent me. His is so witty, and smart, and funny and charming. There is so much of his personality in those letters, a personality I don’t know very well because we live so far apart.
So the other day I was thinking about him, still kicking it at 94, when I walked by my local fishmonger and there were the most beautiful little trout in the window. And I knew I had to get some for breakfast.
I’m sure this is not how my Grampy made trout. I can’t imagine him making a pesto or poaching an egg, although it’s possible that those are two skills he has that I don’t know about. But it’s a very me breakfast, poached eggs and beans and pesto, with a bit of him thrown in, in the form of little river fish.
And it was wonderful.
Poached Eggs with Seared Trout and Minto Pesto and Green Beans
Serves 2
1/2lb Green Beans, cleaned with the woody ends picked off
2 small Trout, or one larger one. Gutted and filleted.
2 good quality Free Range Eggs
1 small Handful of Mint
1 large Handful of Parsley
1 small clove of Garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped.
1 Lemon
1/3 cup Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper
In a food processor blitz together the parlsey, mint, garlic and ¼ cup of the olive oil. Zest half of the lemon in and add in a healthy pinch of salt. Pulse a couple times. Check for seasoning. Put aside.
Fill a medium pot with water and bring to a boil. Add a pinch of salt.
Meanwhile bring a small frying full of water to a boil. Add the beans and cook for 2 minutes. Strain and set aside.
Rinse out the frying pan and put it back on the stove over medium heat.
Let it warm up and then add the remaining olive oil.
Season the trout liberally with salt.
When the pan is quite hot (but not smoking) put the fish fillets in skin side down. Immediately shake the pan a bit to move the fish around. That will make sure they don’t stick.
Cook the trout on the skin side until it’s about ½ way cooked. Flip them over, and cook for 30 more seconds.
Put the fish on a plate.
Once you’ve flipped the fish crack your eggs into your boiling water. Turn the water down to a simmer. And cook for about 3 mintues for nice runny eggs.
Put them on top of the fish with the beans and spoon the sauce on top. Serve Immediately.
Those perfect jewel toned cookies that take you entirely out of where you are standing and promptly in front of Pierre Herme in Paris.
They are a glorious little things aren’t they?
Except when they’re not. And sometimes they really, really aren’t.
Sometimes they are dry little meringues with a sad dollop of filling that makes the whole thing downright miserable.
Macarons done right are magnificent. Done poorly, are no good at all.
So today, I’m going to show you how to make macarons, the proper way.
I have made literally every mistake I think it is possible to make with a macaron. I have sat on the floor and wept not understanding what it is I have done wrong, and that is sadly, not at all an understatement. I’m not being dramatic. I have wept.
But here’s the good news. I have made every one of those mistakes so that you don’t have to. I can tell you every trick I’ve learnt so that you can do them perfectly.
Let’s get started shall we?
Macarons
Recipe from Pierre Herme
300g Sifted Ground Almonds
200g Icing Sugar
110g Egg whites
300g Sugar
110g Egg Whites
Filling of your choice (I’m a sucker for ganache- try this recipe!)
Sift the ground almonds and icing sugar into a large bowl.
Add the 110g of egg whites but do not mix them.
Put the remaining egg whites into the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the whisk attachment.
In a small pot mix the sugar with a small amount of cold water so that the sugar has the texture of wet sand. Put a lid on it (if you don’t have a lid an upside down frying pan works well!) and put it on a burner over medium low heat.
When the mixture is boiling rapidly and all the sugar has dissolved you can remove the lid. You’re doing this so that the sugar doesn’t crystallize. By keeping the lid on, which encourages condesation in the pot, the sugar won’t crystallize against the edges. It’s a bit of a cheaters trick, and it works brilliantsly.
Now put your candy thermometer into the pot and turn the temperature up to medium high.
Cook the sugar mixture to 118C.
When the sugar get’s to 115C turn the mixer on medium and whisk the egg whites.
When the sugar gets to 118F carefully remove it from the heat and slowly pour it into the mixer with the motor running. You want to make sure you’re not pouring the sugar onto the whisk which it turn is splashing it on the side of the bowl. You’ll lose too much sugar, instead drip it down the side of the bowl in a thin stream.
Once the sugar mixture is all in, keep the mixer running until it is very thick, but still slightly warm when you touch the side of the bowl. You want it to be just about body temperature.
Now you can fold the two mixtures together. This is the trickiest part. This isn’t like normal folding egg whites in where you want to deflate it as little as possible. Instead you’ll actually whip them together with a spatula. The trick is deflating it just enough.
You want the batter to still be thick, but when you life your spatula up and let the dough fall back down, you’ll want it to melt back into the batter, although not too quickly.
That sounds tricky but here’s the nice thing; as soon as you start piping your macaron shells you’ll be able to tell if you did it right or not. If you didn’t, you can just scrape up the batter, mix it up a bit more and then pip it again. No problem. Don’t stress okay?
Good.
Now that you’ve made your batter it’s time to pipe. Fit your piping bag with a round tip about 5mm wide.
Line 4 baking trays with 4 silpats. If you don’t have silpats you can use parchment paper, but the parchment is likely to bend a bit when you’re baking and they won’t be quite as perfectly round.
Pipe your macaron shells to be about 1.5 inches and space them about an inch apart.
Now let them sit. You want to wait roughly 30 minutes, or until the soft shiny-ness of the macarons has dulled slightly and turned a bit more opaque. This hardens the shell and ensures that the shell won’t crack.
Preheat your oven to 350F.
Bake your shells one tray at a time, for about 4 minutes, then turn them, then another 3 minutes in a convection oven. In a standard oven it would be more like 5 minutes turn 4 minutes.
When you think they’re done gently wiggle the top of one with your finger: it should still wiggle but also be a little bit firm. Take them out and let them cool completely.
Cook the other trays the same way.
When they are fully cooled use an offset spatula to pick them up off the silpats, they shouldn’t stick too much.
Match them up in rows of two with ones that they are closest to in size (uless your piping skills are totally spot on there will be a few differences in size!)
Now gently push in the base of each shell- this will make more room for the filling.
Pipe in your filling, and turn the tops over and gently sandwich them together.
Breakfast is not my favorite meal of the day, at least during the week. During the week it’s an apple, maybe some green juice if I was on top of things to buy it (I don’t have a jucier, not do I have space in my tiny kitchen!). On a good day I’ll scramble and egg and throw some salsa on top. Totally premade, store bought crappy salsa. I’m too busy. I’m not organized enough to make overnight oats. Every few months I’ll make a batch of homemade instant oatmeal and think “I should do this more often!” and then I eat them all and don’t make it again for 4 months.
Breakfast is not my place to shine on a weekday.
Weekends though? That’s another story.
I love brunch, in a major way. Soft poached eggs, potatoes, vegetables cooked in interesting ways. Bacon. Sausages.
I have two qualms with most brunches though, the first, is that, unless I got too deep into some bourbon the night before, I want my brunch to be light enough that I still want to move afterwards. I love me some bacon, but maybe I need some salad with it, so shoot me. The second is that, and I am totally tooting my own horn here, but I’m pretty good at cooking brunch. If I go out I want those eggs to be perfect. And if they aren’t I’m going to feel a bit jilted. A good brunch doesn’t come cheap, and I want it flawlessly.
Which means I end up making brunch at home a lot of the time. I’m just a bit finicky about some things, especially in the mornings.
So this is the sort of thing I end up making. It’s incredibly simple, very satisfying, rich without being heavy, and almost foolproof to execute. It’s just the ticket for an no fuss brunch in.
Arugula and Harissa Frittata
Serves 2
1 Shallot, peeled and thinly sliced
4 cups Baby Arugula
1 tbsp Harissa Paste*
2 tbsp Olive Oil
4 Eggs
Salt and Pepper
Harissa is a Moroccan spice hot sauce. You can find it at most meditteranean stores, but in a pinch you can mix1 tsp Sambal (rooster sauce) with 1 tsp ground cumin for this recipe.
Preheat your oven to broil.
Crack the eggs into a small bowl and mix vigorously for 2 minutes.
In a small frying pan over medium heat warm up the olive oil.
Put in the shallots and let cook slowly for about 10-15 mintues until they start to color.
Add in a healthy pinch of salt and stir in the harissa.
Cook the harissa for about a minute and then add in the arugula, a handful at a time so it doesn’t overflow in the pan.
Let it start to wilt and then add in the next handful, You don’t want to cook the arugula entirely, just let it start to wilt.
Add in the eggs with another pinch of salt and stir it up, like your making scrambled eggs. Keep stirring until it’s about half way cooked- but the top still is still smooth.
Take the pan off the heat and put it under the broiler.
Cook until the top gets puffy and the edges are a little bit browned.
You know when you see foods that’s too pretty. Like it can’t possible taste good?
I kept seeing pictures of blood orange tarts, and thinking “oh my gosh they are so beautiful, but I bet they aren’t super delicious”. I’m rarely a big fan of cooked oranges. I felt like baking them, even in a buttery crust, might not be the best idea. I mean, blood oranges are perfect as is, why do anything to them?
Well, I’m here to tell you that you should.
You should make a pastry cream, you should make some super flakey dough, and you should layer a whole bunch of blood oranges on top.
Because suddenly the butter and vanilla bring something extraordinary to the blood oranges, and the oranges themselves stay almost exactly the same. They are still juicy, and bright and crisp, they just happen to have married themselves with some sweeter things.
It’s a simple tart, but one that’s rather showy, and one that perfectly uses up the remarkable produce available right now.
Blood Orange Tart
For Flakey Pastry
1 cup Butter, cut into small cubes
2 cups AP Flour
1 tsp Salt
Cold Water
For Pastry Cream
1 cup Milk
½ Vanilla Bean, or 1 tbsp Vanilla Extract
2 tbsp Cornstarch or AP Flour
¼ cup Brown Sugar
1 Egg
8 Blood Oranges
1 Egg Yolk
1 tbsp Milk
¼ cup Coarse Sugar
Bring the milk and vanilla bean up to a simmer in a small pot.
Meanwhile mix together the sugar and egg in a medium sized bowl. Add in the cornstarch or flour, depending on what you use.
Slowly add in the hot milk, whisking the whole time. Pour the mixture back into the pot, and turn the heat down to low.
Stir constantly until the mixture thickens consistently.
Immediately strain into a bowl, cover with plastic wrap and chill.
Cut Oranges:
Cut the tops and bottoms off the oranges. Cut the skins off too, leaving no white pith.
Cut the oranges widthwise, into rounds.
Make dough:
On a large clean surface mix together the butter, flour and salt.
With a rolling pin roll the butter into the flour, scraping the strips of butter off the rolling pin, and the counter. Keep rolling and scraping until all of the butter is stretchd into long thin strips.
Tablespoon by tablespoon add in the cold water, with the help of a pastry scraper gently mix the flour and butter with the water. You want to keep the butter in strips as much as possible.
Once the dough has begun to come together flatten it with your palms, and fold the dough in half. Do this again and again until the dough has lots of layers, but before the dough begins to get tough. It’s best to stay on the side of too soft, and only fold the dough a could times.
Line a baking tray with parchment paper.
Roll the dough into a large rectangle and fold it gently into quarters. Lift the rectangle and place it onto the lined tray.
Scrape out the pastry cream into the middle of the dough. Spread it out, and cover the whole thing except for an inch and half border around the edges.
Layer the slices of oranges on top.
Fold the edges of pastry up around the fruit, pleating as necessary.
Put the tray in your freezer for at least 25 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Take the tart out of the freezer.
Mix together the yolk and milk in a small bowl.
Brush the edges of the pastry with egg wash and sprinkle liberally with the sugar, both on the fruit and on the edges.
Bake for 35-45 minutes, until the pastry is nicely browned.
Let the tart cool for at least 30 minutes before cutting and eating!
Pastry cream is one of those things that I hated as a kid. I was totally obsessed with these cinnamon danishes a local café made, only the cinnamon ones, because all the fruit ones had pastry cream in them, or as I called it as a kid “sweet mayo”. It was creamy, it was flavorless, and it was unessesary. Not into it.
And then I started working for pastry chef who made the most incredible blueberry tarts. Extraordinary blueberry tarts. They were made with the most beautiful wild blueberries, the softed shortbread crust, and the thinnest layer of the creamiest pastry cream known to man that had just had a hint of vanilla and lemon. It was a total revelation.
Now, pastry cream is a staple for me. They add a sophistication to tarts, to pies, to cookies. To danishes. The best part is that it is super easy to make. You can make it with cornstarch or flour, if you’re gluten free, and you can easily change the milk to coconut milk if you’re dairy free. If you want a bit of a caramel flavour, you can change the sugar to brown sugar. It’s a wonderful thing. Get into it!
Pastry Cream
(adapted from the Tartine Bakery)
2 cups Milk (or coconut milk)
2 Eggs
½ cup Sugar (or brown sugar)
3 tbsp Flour or Cornstarch.
½ tsp Salt
½ Vanilla Bean, or 1 tbsp Vanilla Extract
Zest of ½ a lemon
In a medium pot bring the milk, vanilla, and lemon to a simmer.
Meanwhile crack the eggs into a medium bowl. Mix with the sugar, and then add in the flour or cornstarch.
Slowly add in the hot milk mixture, whisking constantly, until it is all combined.
Pour this mixture back into the pot, and stirring constantly, cook over low heat until it has thickened consistently.
Strain into a clean bowl, cover with plastic wrap and cool completely.
Sunday Salads- Fennel, Citrus, and Pistachio Salad
So, I think I need to stop following people from LA on Instagram. I have never thought that much about it, or California to be honest, but this time of the year every time I look at my phone it is flooded with pictures of the most beautiful citrus fruits, and the bright colours, and it takes all I’ve got not to pack up everything and move South.
As that would be a wee bit impulsive, instead I’m buying enormous amounts of the most beautiful California citrus from the organics shop down the street from me. It's not really the same even a little bit, but it gives me my bright colour, fresh fruit fix that I need through these grey days. Seriously, have you ever tried a Cara Cara orange? It might be the best orange I’ve ever had.
This is a salad that you could make with nearly any citrus, and if you can’t find cara cara oranges where you are, don’t worry. Any one will do, but if you have the change, this is the perfect place to make it shine.
Fennel, Citrus, and Pistachio Salad
1 head Fennel
2 Oranges
1 Grapefruit
¼ cup Olive Oil
¼ cup Pistachios, toasted.
2 cups of Greens – Baby arugula, mesclum mix or a mix of sprouts work very well.
Salt
A small hand full of flat leaf parsley,
A small handful of fresh mint
Cut the tops and bottoms off the oranges and grapefruit. Cut the skin off down to the flesh, and then cut between the membranes to release slices of the citrus without any bits of white on them. Do this over a bowl to catch all the juices.
Pour most of the juices into a cup and drink them! (so good!) leaving about ¼ cup left in the bowl.
Very thinly slice the fennel- if you have a mandolin this is a good time to use it, but you can do it by hand no problem.
Mix the fennel in with the citrus, and stir in the olive oil and a generous pinch of salt.
Lay the leaves of parsley and mint on top of each other, and roll them into a thin log.
Slice that log thinly so that you can long thin strips of the herbs.
Mix them into the salad too, and then toss in the greens.
Sprinkle the pistachios on top and serve immediately.
He’s handsome, and charming. He’s so kind, sometimes it blows me away. He also has no problem saying no to me, which I find to be an incredibly great thing about him. He will bend over backwards to do anything for me, but if I’m bring a brat, he won’t hesitate to tell me.
He’s tall, but not too tall. He makes great cocktails.
Generally, he is an exceptional guy. I’m very fond of him.
His greatest fault though, is his lack of a sweet tooth. I am constantly shoving pastries around him, and he’ll eat a bite or two, and then move on. He’s supportive, he tells me if it’s great, but he’s not into eating a huge bowl of something.
Unless it’s chocolate. That man can down chocolate. Brownies, ice cream, cookies, consider it gone. And above all, he has absolutely zero control when it comes to ganache.
He gets a sneaky look in his eye, and if I leave him near a bowl of it for an hour, the bowl will be scraped clean when I return. It’s actually kind of crazy. And for that reason, I don’t make it often.
Except after Valentines. I always feel like guys have a rough go on Valentines, I mean, no one wants to be told that they have to be extra nice one day or they’ll get in trouble, even though no one really knows why they have to be extra nice. But none the less, off they go. Jord bought me some gorgeous flowers, made me a beautiful meal of pistachio roasted lamb and wild mushroom risotto, and took me to an awesome show. It was a wonderful night. And as such, I made some ganache.
This is the ganache recipe to end all ganaches. It is perfect in every way. I so wish that I had come up with it, but the geniuses at Eleven Madison Park did.
To make a ganache you are basically emulsifying chocolate with fat and liquid, and it can be a bit finicky. This one uses honey (well, if we’re being totally real here it uses cornsyrup, but I use honey because it’s more delicious and non GMO) and it helps the whole thing stay together. The butter we whisk in at the end makes it just the tiniest bit richer, and the whole thing has the perfect consistency for making truffles, or glazing cakes, or eating by the spoonful out of the bowl.
Sometimes, you have to give the man a treat.
Honey Ganache
2 2/3 cup Heavy Cream (or Coconut Milk)
1/3 cup Honey
½ cup Butter
4 cups Chocolate chips, 60% cocoa or higher
1 tsp Salt
In a medium pot bring the honey, salt, and cream to a simmer. Milk is apt to boiling over so be mindful.
Pour the cream mixture over top of the chocolate and let sit for 1 minute.
Use a whisk and gently stir the ganache to emulsify it, working just in small twirls in the center of the bowl until it is all mixed in together.
Add the butter piece-by-piece whisking until each piece is emulsified in before adding the next.
Use immediately if you are glazing a cake, if you want to make truffles or use it as a frosting allow to sit, covered with seran wrap at room temperature for at least 12 hours. For these ones I used coconut milk instead of cream, and rolled the set truffles in toasted coconut.
Last night was girls night. I kicked Jordan out of the apartment for the evening, and had some quality girlfriend time.
It's hard to come by these days I think, we're all so busy all of the time and it's so much easier it seems to get together when the guys are with us, but man did I need some girl time.
We danced around to the Pointer Sisters, we cried, we watched the Brene Brown TedTalk on vulnerability, and we cried some more. We played the Dirty Dancing soundtrack, and watched the scene at the end where they do the lift.
We talked about the totally unrealistic relationship expectations we have because John Hughes created Jake Ryan. We laughed. We laughed a lot.
And we drank wine. Cleaning up this morning made me realize just how much wine. And sake. And mojitos. I don't feel terrible this morning, I'm actually not feeling bad at all. But I do feel like I need to eat something substantial. Something that's going to soak up some booze. Something a bit heartier, not not greasy, not heavy.
Enter the smoked salmon, potato, boiled egg, salad.
A salad that is filling and rich and just what is required of a hangover salad.
It’s a salad to eat for supper. Or at 10 am after girls night.
Sometimes, that’s just the thing.
Boiled Potato Salad with Lox, Dill and Eggs
4 cups Fingerling Potatoes, or waxy Nugget Potatoes
4 Free Range Eggs
150g Smoked Salmon or Lox (I like lox best)
1 Lemon
½ cup Olive Oil
1 tbsp Dijon Mustard
¼ cup Dill
Salt and Pepper
Scrub the potatoes. Cut them in half and put them in a pot. Cover with cold water and a healthy pinch of salt and put the pot on a burner with medium high heat.
Bring to a boil.
Reduce heat to simmer and cook until the potatoes are fork tender, but still holding their shape- about 15 minutes.
Strain and run cold water on them, stirring often until they are cooled.
Meanwhile bring a small pot filled with water to a boil.
Put the eggs in with a slotted spoon, first dipping them in, and then putting them in entirely- this will help prevent the shells from cracking.
Reduce the heat to medium and set a timer for 7 minutes. When the timer goes off remove the pot from the heat, strain off the hot water and fill with cold running water, stirring often until the eggs are cooled.
Peel and quarter them.
Meanwhile make the dressing- in a large bowl juice the lemon. Mix in the Dijon with a pinch of salt. Slowly add in the olive oil whisking vigorously to emulsify it in (it will still be tasty if it splits though so don’t worry too much if it does)
Taste for seasoning and add more lemon, olive oil, or salt as you see fit.
When the potatoes are cooked and cooled toss them into the dressing with the dill. To serve toss in the arugula, portion onto plates and tear pieces of the lox on top. Place 4 quarters of eggs per plate seasoning each with salt.
My life right now is filled with butter. Like crazy, up to the ears filled with butter.
I’m testing recipes. Recipes for my company. The company that I am setting up, for the cafes I’m working with. It’s very exciting.
My company.
Eek!
However, at some point rationale has to take over. And my poor little up to the ears with butter body has needed a break from butter. So this week, I went macrobiotic. Nothing too crazy, just no dairy, sugar, wheat, or red meat for a week, a mini cleanse. A sort of cleanse.
Guys, I feel good right now. My skin is better, my stomach isn’t aching. I didn’t even yell at anyone at the Apple Store yesterday when I went in for the 5th time to get my 3 month old computer fixed. I am feeling good.
I think this is because I really like vegetables. I like veggies as much as I like cookies. I’m lucky like that. Also, because instead of going on a cleanse where I only eat steamed broccoli I went on a cleanse where I ate a whole lot of roasted carrots. Coriander roasted carrots in fact. Carrots that were so sweet, with just a tiny bit of lemon juice and olive oil, more salt that GOOP would tell me to use I think, and a healthy pinch of ground coriander. Carrots that I am going to continue to make long after this cleanse, because they are devilishly delicious.
That it’s healthy is just a happy coincidence.
Coriander Roasted Carrots
1 bunch of really good Carrots
1 ½ tsp Coriander
2 cloves Garlic
1 tsp Salt
1 tbsp Lemon Juice
1 tbsp Olive Oil
Preheat oven to 450F
Clean the carrots well- I find with good carrots you don’t need to peel them, but you can if you want. Cut them I half lengthwise.
Squish the cloves of garlic with the side of a knife. Mix the garlic, coriander, salt, lemon and olive oil in a bowl. Toss in the carrots.
Place them in a single layer on a parchment lined tray.
Roast for 15-20 minutes, or until they are wrinkly and slightly browned but still crunchy. Serve immediately.
Yesterday was my Dad’s birthday. It should have been a happy day, because he should have been turning 61, but he didn’t and it’s not.
My tradition on his birthday, and on the anniversary of his death is to drink a good beer in his honor and paint my toenails. He hated nail polish, and I like to imagine him rolling his eyes at me wherever he is. It makes me smile.
Often Jordan and I go to this great Cambodian restaurant and eat huge plates of these amazing fried prawns and big bowls of noodles. It’s the sort of place he would have loved.
Often I go for a bike ride, because that was his favourite.
Yesterday I forced Jordan to go to a Superbowl party, but I stayed in. It was nice to just have the place to myself for a while, and watch bad TV while my nails dried. Double eye roll.
Today I woke up with what I think of as an emotional hangover. You know when it’s not so much that your sad, it’s just that sort of exhausted from being sad the day before? That’s today.
So I worked for a few hours this morning, and I got some baking done at home, cleaned up a bit. When I finish writing this I’ll go drag my butt out of the apartment and do the laundry.
It felt like the sort of day that needed some comfort food. Rich and thick but also good for me. Nothing that was going to keep me feeling sluggish.
So I found some squash and made this, a lightly spiced squah puree that lies somewhere between a soup and a curry. At the recommendation of 101Cookbooks I served it with brown rice, but to this I added some cumin and a can of chickpeas, to give it a bit more oomph. It’s deeply filling without being heavy. It’s warm and comforting, and it’s just what I needed on a day like today.
Cumin Brown Rice with Chickpeas
2 tsp Ground Cumin
1tsp Ground Corriander
1 tbsp Olive Oil
1 cup Brown Rice
2 cups Water
Ginger Squash Soup
1 large Onion, sliced
3 cloves Garlic, minced
1 large or 2 small Butternut Squash, peeled and cut into cubes
1 inch Ginger, grated finely
2 tbsp Olive Oil
In a large pot over medium heat warm up the olive oil.
Sautee the onion until they’re soft and slightly browned. Add in the garlic and the ginger and sautee it for another minute or two.
Add the squash and cover with water.
Season liberally with salt and bring to a boil. Turn it down a simmer and let simmer for about half an hour.
Meanwhile, make the rice: In a small pot over medium heat warm the olive oil. Add in the spices and toast them until they are fragrant but not burning! Add in the rice and the water with a big pinch of salt and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down low and cover. Simmer for 45 minutes.
Rinse and drain the chickpeas and stir them in. Cook for another 5 to 10 minutes or until the rice is totally cooked.
It is, for me, the ultimate comfort food. It’s smooth and creamy and, perhaps most importantly is super cheap. I pretty well lived off of polenta for a couple years. Breakfast? Put an egg on it. Lunch? Some tomato sauce. Dinner? My favourite is with sautéed mushrooms and onions. You can serve it with steak, or Bolognese sauce, or darn near anything.
But when I was young and ever so broke, mostly I ate it with straight up tomato sauce. When I was feeling rich I would buy some parm and add some in, but most days it wasn’t so fancy. I could make a big batch and feed myself for a few meals for under $3.00. Mega cheap.
And, even in my intense poverty, it was a deeply satisfying meal. It takes only a few minutes to make and it is rich and as comforting as any dish could be.
And it is almost ridiculously easy to make. It is a no fuss sort of a dish. You simply bring some liquid to a boil (stock, milk, or a combination of both) whisk in the polenta and let it simmer for half and hour or so. That’s it. Unless you’re trying to keep your costing at a minimum, you should add in cheese and a little nub of butter for a bit of flavour.
Once it’s cooked it becomes a creamy porridge, but your left over’s will harden up in the fridge and become something that you can bake or fry and give it some crispy texture. But I like it best hot out of the pot, eaten with a spoon, feeling like a kid again.
Polenta.
Serves 4
3 cups Chicken Stock, or water
2 cups Milk
1 cup Polenta
½ cup Parmesano Reggiono, or Granda Padana (optional)
2 tbsp Butter (optional)
In a medium pot over medium heat bring a pinch of salt, the stock/water and the milk up to a boil.
Reduce the heat to medium low.
Pour the polenta into a fine sieve and shake it over the pot whisking the whole time- this will prevent lumps from forming.
Keep whisking until the polenta starts to thicken, about 2 minutes.
Switch from a whisk to a spatula or wooden spoon and stir on occasion for 25-35 more minutes, adding a bit of water if it starts to look too thick.
Add in the cheese and butter and stir until it is totally incorporated. Check for seasoning and add more salt if you need it.
There are, of course, lots of people who you meet and who change you. People who inspire you and people who push you and people who show you sides of the world and yourself you never would known without their help.
But when you really look at your life and the people and events that change you fundamentally, for me at least, the list is pretty compact. But today I want to talk to you about one of these people, someone who took an enormous risk and hired me at the alarmingly young age of 20 to be the chef at their restaurant, and not only showed me an entirely new way of cooking, but also allowed me to watch as she owned a restaurant that used beautiful ingredients, paid everyone over minimum wage and truly contributed to the community that I live in.
For anyone who knows me well they know that I could only ever be talking about Mary McIntyre.
When I moved into my apartment over 6 years ago, while I waited to meet the landlord I ran into a friend at the café in the building. It was a beautiful space, filled with light, vintage furniture and small children. There was great coffee, and smiling servers hustling plates of gorgeous food around strollers and little ones to tables filled with stylish people, about equal parts parents and single people. I ate a salami sandwich, a crisp baguette, filled with bocconcini, parm, salami, roasted tomatoes and olive mayo. As soon as I moved into the apartment upstairs I became a devoted customer.
About a year later that devotion turned into a job, a chef job. It was my first job running a restaurant and it was a steep learning curve, and lord or lord I made some mistakes. But it was Mary who encouraged me and pushed me and made me a much better cook. It was Mary who showed me how to use middle eastern spices, taught me the importance of using the best produce, and made me appreciate that an egg can, and should, go soft poached on every meal.
But it wasn’t just her kitchen finness or passion for food, it was that she was passionate about using great ingredients, even if that meant taking a bit less in profit. She paid every person on staff more than minimum wage to be an example of a small business who looks after their employees. And she didn’t call us employees, she called us family.
For years I’ve always used her an example of what I want to do with my life, how I want to run a business, how I want to contribute to my neighborhood.
Today is Little Nest’s last day. Our terrible landlord has forced her rent up more than double in the last 4 years, and she has been forced to shut her doors. I have worked in many restaurants in my life, but never have I been anywhere with more love. There is so much care and thought in every little part of the restaurant, and I am absolutely heart broken to see it go.
It has been a landmark for my adult life, as has Mary, for showing me time and time again that it is possible to own a business that feels ethical, that you can run a café that uses great produce, and hires great people. You can and you should run a business that way, and I will forever hold myself to the standard left to me by Little Nest.
Winter Slaw with Roasted Garlic Yoghurt Dressing with Thyme
Are you tired of talking about New Years resolutions yet?
Last year, my resulotion was to be healthier, and my idea to do this was with this column, the Sunday Salad. And, while I’ll admit to missing a few throughout the year, it seems fitting to start off the year with a Sunday Salad post. I feel good about it.
I’m feeling good about a lot of things right now. About an amazing Christmas holiday with my family, about really spending some quality time with my Mom. I’m feeling good about food photography, I’m still learning but last year I spent a small fortune upgrading my camera, buying new lenses and taking workshops. And I see a big jump in the quality of my work.
I’m feeling good about my body. I haven’t lost or gained a pound this year, but for whatever reason I put on a tight shirt yesterday and for the first time in ages, I thought I looked pretty good.
I’m feeling good about my career, which is totally in flux right now, but things are moving forward, projects are starting to happen, opportunities are opening up and I am so excited to see what happens with them in the next few months.
And I’m feeling good about Jordan. Which isn’t new or surprising, but is wonderful. We’ve both had a terrible flu for the last week, but nonetheless we sat on the couch and giggled for hours yesterday. It’s good to think about that sometimes.
My life isn’t perfect of course. There are a million things wrong right now, and I am certainly no exception, but I’m feeling positive. It’s a good way to start out the year.
All of which has nothing to do with this salad, I just wanted to tell you that.
This salad is what I’m always looking for in a slaw. Namely it’s got a lot of flavor, and isn’t drowning in a mayo driven sauce.
It’s got the cabbage, because I love cabbage, but it’s also got carrots and kale. And instead of mayo it gets it’s creaminess from yoghurt, which is accented with roasted garlic, thyme and lemon. And it’s lovely.
Winter Slaw with Yoghurt, Roasted Garlic and Thyme.
½ small head of Red Cabbage
1 bunch Carrots
1 bunch Green Onions
1 bunch Kale
1 cup Yoghurt
1 tbsp Dijon
½ cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil
5 cloves Garlic
5 sprigs Thyme
1 Lemon
Salt and Pepper
Preheat your oven to 350F
Wrap the garlic cloves, still in there skins in aluminium wrap and put it in the oven. Roast for about 30 minutes, or until the cloves are very soft.
In a food processor put the garlic and yoghurt. Zest half of the lemon and juice half of the lemon and add that into the food processor too.
With the motor writing slowly add in the olive oil. Mix in the thyme and Dijon. Season with salt and pepper.
Thinly slice the cabbage with a mandolin.
Using a vegetable peeler make thin ribbons from the carrots.
Thinly slice the green onions on a bias.
Tear the kale from the fibrous veins.
Mix all of the vegetables into a large bowl. Toss with the dressing and serve immediately.
