Fresh Cracked Pepper

Last weekend I said goodbye to a city that had just started to feel like home. Sadness and excitement tumbled at the edge of my emotions, keeping real tears at bay. As the burritos and watering holes of Westcott St. receded behind me, I wondered, will I ever see you again? As we passed one of the corners along my 4-mile running route, my eyes started to sting. How many times have I run around that corner, I thought.

It seems sometimes like leaving the familiar and commonplace things hurts the most. That corner, that alley, that tiny stretch of street. It’s the small scenes, not the landmarks, that make our lives inimitable.

a P.A. landmark -- watch out Tim's!

Take donuts. Small and inconsequential, they have often turned road trip minutes into small indulgences. On the advice of a friend, we stopped at the original Maple Donuts shop on our way through Pennsylvania. Started in 1946 from the back of a bicycle, this place was no Dunkin’ or Tim’s. Stepping into the shop was stepping back to a simpler time.

Rows and rows of donut flavors I’d never heard of were stacked behind a brightly lit, cafeteria-style counter. Two uniformed women yapped away as we stood drooling before apple fritters the size of footballs, barely noticing us in their throes of small-town gossip.

claim to fame

We finally decided on a box of six, sticking to safe flavours like sour cream glazed, chocolate, honey glazed, and seasonal pumpkin. Out of pure cruelty (and hopeless addiction), I made Mark wait until we hit a Starbucks five miles down the highway so that I could enjoy the experience properly.

And proper it was: As I bit into the crust of the heavy ring held gingerly between my fingers, Tim Horton’s, the Canadian road trip cornerstone, faded into obscurity. Maple Donuts knew how to do a cake donut — something I normally didn’t prefer. (Their honey-glazed was less exciting, but the sour cream was also worth its weight in holes.) The interior was soft and dense, and not a pinch too sweet. It was all the best of pumpkin pie, muffins, and cheesecake rolled into a gently crumbling shell of thin icing.

inside the box

old-fashioned pumpkin bliss

The next day, after a night in Baltimore with friends of Mark’s, we drove into the District of Columbia in a flurry of temporary snow. My new home would be temporary, too, but I was ready to embrace it with the same conviction as so many other places I’ve lived.

After an afternoon of looking at Craigslist rooms (worth a post of its own) and being introduced by our host to Trader Joe’s, we hit Dukem on U street with hungry bellies, inspired by Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations” segment on D.C.’s famous Ethiopian restaurants.

recommended by Anthony Bourdain

One thing I’ve missed while living in Syracuse is Ethiopian food. So much so that whenever we go to Ottawa, we eat at Horn of Africa with my friend Lenora to satiate us for the injera-less months ahead. According to Bourdain though, my new city is home to some of the best Ethiopian food outside of Addis Ababa.

Meeting up with another of Mark’s old friends, an international journalist who just returned from Mali, we set out to demolish our huge platter of homemade cottage cheese, spicy lamb and chicken stews, lentil and cabbage purees, and the dish we’d both been waiting for since watching the Bourdain show:

Dukem restaurant, U St. D.C.

Kitfo.  Ahhhhh, kitfo. How you embody everything I eschew in my life of health and triathlon, yet embrace all that is dear to my taste buds: raw beef and butter. It sounds awful, I know, but it is an Ethiopian delicacy of slightly warmed minced raw beef that has been mixed with a herb-and-spice-infused clarified butter.

I was a little wary, but couldn’t pass it up. Trusting the good folks at Dukem, and its obvious popularity, I took my first bit of raw beef since Alex’s prairie maki I tried eight years ago. Well, this wasn’t your average hunk of ground beef (my least favorite meat and my least favorite “cut”). The soft, almost sauce-like mixture, heaped onto a piece of sour injera, delivered a tender, clove-infused warmth to my whole mouth. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff — despite the fleeting thoughts of how much butter I was really ingesting.

everyone should try kitfo at least once

And then there were the times the camera did not see: The cheery Mexican stop in Alexandria, and wood-fired pizza with a good friend. There’s been “Virginia ham and biscuits” at George Washington’s church after a carols service, and “Baltimore cookies” waiting at my cozy crash pad. (Can you see I’m a sucker for anything billed as regional?)

And so has been my first week in food in this robust and lively new place, where I hear many new languages on the metro each day, and where treasures wait around new corners. One day I’ll probably have to say goodbye to those corners, too, but for now, it’s all about the hellos.

For this week’s Muffin Monday, I’m happy to introduce someone very special to me. Meet my cousin, friend, and fellow wordsmith, Meghan J. Ward, of Banff, Alberta. Megan is a freelancer writer on health and wellness, mountain culture, and outdoor sports.  She writes and reflects over at Back on This Side of the Door, and brings her spirited observations today to the topic of food.

___________________

I have always been a “dive in head first” kind of person. I rarely read directions and choose instead to figure things out as I go along. However, two things have made me think I might want to do otherwise: Baking and IKEA. After recently moving and putting together an army of IKEA furniture, I learned the hard way that taking apart a chest of drawers with that Star Trek looking wrench is much harder than doing it right the first time using the instructions. My baking exploits in the past have been slightly disastrous too, so today I challenged myself for this muffin post to actually follow a recipe.

This meant delving into the unknown corners of my grocery store here in Banff. Living in a National Park, I wondered if certain ingredients simply would not be available. I also wondered if I’d spend more than my university tuition buying the ingredients for my muffins at the ridiculously inflated prices of this tourist town.

I did.

I chose to use a muffin recipe from Eat, Shrink & Be Merry!by the Podleski sisters. Janet and Greta brought me through my university years and they could do it again. The recipe I chose, wittily titled A Bran New World, aptly described my venture into the unknowns of muffin making.

Soon after getting home with my loot of food, I realized this baking thing would still be improvised no matter how much I wanted to follow the directions. I didn’t have a mixing bowl big enough, and had to settle for using Tupperware and a giant wok instead. The sweet potato I had purchased was soft and mushy on one side, so I performed emergency surgery on it. I nearly blinded myself making orange zest. I had forgotten to buy allspice. I didn’t own a whisk or an apron. Turns out I really was just a wanna-be Muffin Maker.

I did some things just like the pros. I spilled muffin mix on my recipe book, which gave it the “well-used and well-loved” look even Martha Stewart would be proud of. I also remembered to preheat my oven (this is a big step for me!) OK, that’s about all that I did so professionally, but in the end, I didn’t miss a step, and those darn muffin cups looked so happy full of gooey, bran flakey, muffin mix!

As I placed the muffin pan in the oven, I recited my cooking mantra just for good measure, which goes like this: ‘Don’t burn them, don’t burn them, don’t burn them!’ I am notorious for burning things, usually because I am multi-tasking while I bake. Not today! Other than taking a few pics along the way, I stuck to baking until those muffins were in, and out of, the oven.

My new kitchen filled with the smell of a job well done. I didn’t have a toothpick to check if they were done cooking, though, so I had to leap forward in faith and take them out before I burned them into oblivion. My little colony of Bran Muffins were almost ready for the ultimate test: my mouth.

Was it worth my small fortune to make my batch of muffins? Absolutely. And while it’s already Winter in The Rockies, the sweet potato, dried currants, and cinnamon of this batch would also make it perfect for Fall. They warmed my happy soul, and warmed my new apartment with the love that only orange zest and cinnamon have to offer.

Now I know that if I can conquer A Bran New World, I can conquer anything.

A Bran New World

makes 12 regular muffins

1 cup cooked, mashed sweet potato (about 1 medium potato)

1 cup buttermilk (I substituted plain yogurt)

½ cup packed brown sugar

3 tbsp vegetable oil

2 eggs

2 tsp grated orange zest

4 cups Bran Flakes cereal

1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour

½ cup dried currants

½ cup chopped pecans or walnuts (I used pecans)

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp ground cinnamon

½ tsp salt

¼ tsp each ground nutmeg and ground allspice

1. Preheat oven to 375˚ F. Spray a 12-cup muffin tin with cooking spray and set aside.
2. In a large bowl, whisk together sweet potato, buttermilk, brown sugar, vegetable oil, eggs, and orange zest. Add Bran Flakes and mix well.
3. In another large bowl, combine flour, currants, nuts, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, nutmeg, and allspice. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and mix just until dry ingredients are moistened. Batter will be thick.
4. Divide batter evenly among muffin cups. Bake for 17 or 18 minutes, or until muffins are golden brown and a toothpick inserted in center of muffin comes out clean. Remove muffins from pan and cool slightly on a wire rack. Serve warm.

from Eat, Shrink & Be Merry! Great-Tasting Food That Won’t Go from Your Lips to Your Hips!by Janet and Greta Podleski

Turning the calendar to December brings many happy memories, tinged with the sepia hue of nostalgia. The tree usually went up during the first week, leaving its silky pine needles strewn about the living room floor. The Christmas CDs were pulled from a basement cabinet, with Johnny Mathis, Amy Grant, and the Home Alone soundtrack still looking bright under eleven months of dust.

But the highlight of the pre-Christmas season for me always took place in the kitchen, gathered around two foil roasting pans. It was the evening we put on Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas album and made the annual batch of nuts n’ bolts that would feed a month’s worth of guests.

Us kids would measure out boxed cereal under dad’s tutelage, while our mom would whip up the mysterious sauce that would transform it. We’d take turns stirring the fragile mixture, and then settle in to watch a Christmas movie while our favorite snack baked.

We could never wait for them to cool and crisp up properly, so our first bowls were served oven-warm. We’d pour glasses of cool eggnog spiked with coke, and sit around the tree munching on what was to us the taste of the holidays.

Over the years, despite boyfriends and girlfriends, first apartments, and busier lives, we managed to hold on to our tradition. Sure, there were years there were four of us instead of five. There were times it didn’t bring the same magic it did at five, or seven, or even fifteen. But somehow, each year the nuts n’ bolts got made.

This year the god of all things salty, fatty and delicious brought me back to Winnipeg for the festivities. I never realized how international our recipe was: Our mix always included Chex cereal, which we could only get in the U.S., and Shreddies, which you can only get in Canada. Suddenly, nuts n’ bolts had become an unlikely metaphor for my life over the past few years.

I scanned the recipe and sheepishly asked my mom if we could cut down the pound of butter. Both of us are fitness and health buffs, but her response reminded me that there are just some things you don’t mess with. As I watched a block of the stuff turn melt away in the saucepan, I made peace with my Christmas companion: Olive oil could wait. It was time to rekindle an important, buttery love.

I brought a small bag of the mix back to Syracuse with me, and after suffering through small rations decided to make my own batch. Mark turned his nose at the idea, but encouraged me nonetheless. I committed to a half batch, knowing I’d be sharing with lucky friends along the way.

Even without my beloved Canadian Shreddies and the warmth cast by 10 hands mixing and stirring away, my first crack at tradition was a success. I used raw cashews and no-oil roasted almonds to cut down on salt and fat. And yes, I even cut down on the butter by an ounce or two. (Don’t tell my mom!)

But what was really music to my ears? Hearing Mark utter these words while hovering over the cookie sheet: “I guess I do like them.” Looks like I’ll have to give up more than I bargained for. But it’s Christmas, and that’s fine with me.

Continue reading ‘nuts n’ bolts’

I’m back from a birthday visit to Winnipeg, and feeling a little more reflective than usual. My great northern hometown, stretched out over empty prairie, seems more distant as visits become less frequent. It’s not that it has become foreign, just a little less familiar. It’s not that it has become alien; family and friends always welcome with wider arms than I sometimes feel I can fill.

Two hours in the air, two waiting to cross the border, and three more on the road delivered me to Syracuse. It feels more like home than I remember.  As I gear up to move to DC on Saturday, however, there’s a limbo quality to life right now. I feel like I’m floating, watching my life shift and change beneath me.

This past week has reminded me of the grounding power of family and friends, even when they’re far away, in space or in time. And that thought brings me, of course, to food. Almost exactly a year ago, my aunt Evelyn sent me a pretty special little recipe. I filed it away for a future post, and feel like it’s meant for today. It’s my great great grandfather, William Oscroft Ward’s recipe for spiced beef, republished last year in this culinary history newsletter by a cousin of my grandpa’s — Doug Ward senior, of radio journalism fame.

In case you’re wondering how I succeeded with floating a potato in a saltwater brine, the answer is no, I haven’t tested the recipe. I don’t eat a lot of beef, and while this preparation looks fascinating, I just haven’t gotten around to trying it out. The recipe I’d like to share with you today, however, offers a more modern take on spiced meat, inspired by this recipe of old.

This one came to me not along family lines, but local ones. At a harvest potluck put on by the Central New York Slow Food Chapter a few weeks ago, I sampled some spiced beef I could get behind. At the end of a long table boasting velvet beets, roasted fennel, and pumpkin bread, there was a rustic pot full of one of my least favorite ingredients: ground meat. Next to it there was a basket of soft Bibb lettuce leaves and a small, hand-lettered label announcing how to proceed. I took a small heap of the rice and beef mixture and a leaf or two of lettuce .

One bite and I realized I’d been too hard on ground meat. Spiced with the subtle fragrance of cardamom and cinnamon, and with velvety coconut milk holding it all together in creamy harmony, the whole thing was then encased in delicate green.

As I pondered the spice sensations, I discovered that I was sitting beside their creators: David and Karen Katleski, owners of the Empire Brewing Co. in downtown Syracuse. I learned that the dish was a cherished family recipe, but after a second helping and more doting, tentatively asked if they’d be willing to share. The Katleski’s were gracious, and we exchanged email addresses. A few days later the recipe arrived, in all its restaurant proportion glory (calling for 5lbs of ground beef!)

The Katleski’s know good food as well as they know slow food. That afternoon they were awarded the Slow Food Snail of Approval award, honoring their commitment to local farmers and food communities.

I performed some math on the recipe and using our favorite free-range bison meat, finally cooked up a batch for a crew of friends. One guest constructed a Moroccan veggie tagine right before our eyes, and another brought a decadent pear tart. The wine flowed, and so did the conversation.

This dish comes together quickly, and simmers for about an hour. It can be made a day in advance, and with its warming spices is a wonderful addition to any winter potluck.

Continue reading ’spiced beef, old and new’

This week, Kris from Married to Chocolate brings her special chocolatey touch to mornings. Kris also specializes in l0w-maintenance: these muffins are almost no-bake, and come together as fast as you’ll eat them.

I’m a serious believer in dessert emergencies–when you gotta have something sweet, stat. As in, right now. As in, yesterday.

I’m also a serious believer in no-bake desserts. I started No-Bake Mondays on Married to Chocolate because I wanted my desserts fast, cheap, and easy. But the real story why I got into no-baking is because I was oven-less for a year and I had to be creative (that, and I’m a lazy baker).

This insanely easy Chocolate Chip Bran Muffin recipe is not entirely no-bake; you need a microwave to make them. Still. Sticking them in a microwave for one and a half minutes beats waiting half an hour to bake them in the oven, don’t you think? So if you’re anything like me and you have the patience of a five-year-old when it comes to desserts, this recipe is for YOU.

I made these for the first time today and they turned out great! I’ve never made muffins before, let alone microwave muffins. Nervous, I stood watching the muffin tray turn in the microwave with my fingers crossed saying, “please rise, please rise, please, please.” And they did!

More than that, the muffins came out ridiculously moist, dense, and not the least bit airy. They’re made with bran so they have a light, whole grain taste to them that’s awesome with chocolate. I topped the muffins with chocolate chips right out of the microwave so the chocolate was melting as I ate them— ayayay. YUM.

A few tips:

You can also make this a regular oven. Preheat at 350 and bake for 25-30 minutes and do the whole toothpick test. I made a bunch with white chocolate chips and cranberry. They were awesome. If you don’t use up all the batter, you can keep it in the freezer for up to four weeks.

Chocolate Chip Bran Muffins

makes 18

1 cup boiling water

2 cups All Bran cereal

1 cup Bran Flakes cereal

2 cups buttermilk

2 eggs, beaten

½ cup vegetable oil

2 ½ cup flour

2 ½ tsp baking soda

½ cup chocolate chips

1 and ½ cup sugar

½ tsp salt

walnuts (optional)

1. In a large bowl, pour boiling water over cereal. Stir in the rest of the ingredients and mix well (leave some chocolate chips to top with).
2. Line a plastic muffin tray with paper liners. Spoon batter in 4/5 of the way.
3. “Bake” in microwave for one minute and a half. Garnish with chocolate chips and walnuts.
4. Ta-dah! Muffins in 15 minutes–including prep time. Enjoy!

As I mentioned in my recent buttercup soup post, I’ve been trying to sample all the squash varieties I can get my hands on this fall. I never thought of squash as an ethnic food, but I recently discovered the Japanese pumpkin, or kabocha:  a nutty-sweet, smooth-fleshed variety that often sneaks its way onto tempura vegetable platters.

Squash is usually paired with heavy dishes like risotto or creamy pastas. This brothy soup however, showcases the richness of the kabocha against a much lighter backdrop.

Kabocha’s seaweed co-star enlivens the soup with minerals (calcium, magnesium, potassium, iodine, iron, and zinc) and is touted by some of the gurus as being essential to detoxifying and overall health. (One of them being Lance Armstrong. As an aspiring triathlete, I’m inclined to believe him.)

If you don’t prepare a lot of Japanese food, this dish will require a special trip. I was short of only two ingredients, but thankfully there’s an Asian market half a mile down the road. Plus, I’ll take any excuse to shop somewhere where most of what I buy will be new taste sensations. I biked there for udon noodles and kelp, and was back in time to have the whole thing simmering away in under an hour.

Udon noodles are thick and chewy Japanese wheat flour noodles often found packaged fresh in the refrigerator section. If you can’t find them, you can substitute almost any type of Asian noodle. These give the stew a certain heft we’re all craving this time of year, and it’s worthy seeking them out.

As for the other obscure ingredients, I promise that you’ll enjoy having some of them on hand. Shoyu and mirin are great marinades, dressing ingredients, and deli-tofu staples. The original recipe called for kelp, which is a brownish color and comes in sheets you then remove. I used a thinner seaweed (hijiki? arame?) which I liked enough to leave in the soup.

Japanese food always leaves me with a clean, fresh feeling. This delicate yet chunky soup, thanks again to the geniuses at Veganomicon, is no exception.

Kabocha photo courtesy of The Kitchn.

Continue reading ‘kabocha-udon noodle bowl’

This week on Muffin Mondays, Kim touches on one of the reasons I love muffins so much. When she calls her creation “a bit healthier than your standard brownie,” she shows how muffins balance health and indulgence. At first glance, these may not appear to be the “healthiest” muffins out there. Compared to your average commercial calorie-whopper, however, they are full of wholesome ingredients, and high in protein too. Make them small for help with self-control and reap the delicious rewards! -Jen

Hello everyone, I’m Kim and I have a little food blog called the Ungourmet. I’m such a fan of muffins that I was ecstatic when Jen asked me to be a part of her series, Muffin Mondays.

I started my blog back in February of this year and I’ve been having a lot of fun cooking up a storm (and driving my family crazy with my experimentation!) One of my favorite things to do in my kitchen is bake muffins.

These Chocolate Oatmeal Peanut Butter muffins remind me of a brownie, but with the whole grains and whole wheat flour they are a bit healthier than your standard brownie. They are packed with much yumminess and were a huge hit at my house. I hope you will love them too!

Thanks again Jen for inviting me to be a part of the fun.

Kim from the UnGourmet.com

Chocolate Oatmeal Peanut Butter Muffins

by theUngourmet

1 cup rolled oats

1 cup low-fat buttermilk

1/3 cup oil

1 large egg

1/3 cup peanut butter

1 tsp vanilla

3/4 cup whole wheat flour

¼ cup powdered unsweetened cocoa

2/3 cup brown sugar

1 tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

½ cup roasted chopped hazelnuts

¼ cup chopped Spanish peanuts

½ cup dark chocolate chips

½ cup peanut butter chips

1. Soak the oats in the buttermilk for about 15 minutes. Briefly stir in the oil, egg, peanut butter, and vanilla. Add the remaining ingredients and stir just until combined.
2. Fill muffin cups evenly with batter (I was able to get 16 muffins out of this mix) and place into a 375 degree oven for 16-18 minutes until toothpick inserted comes out clean.

While crunching my way toward lunch at the gym today, I was interrupted by a tentative voice.

“Can I ask you a question?” said a slim woman stretched out beside me on the mat, a second-year student at the oldest. “Sure!” I responded, anticipating a question about form or my Lululemon tank top, as has happened before. “How many days a week do you work out?”

She proceeded to disclose her desire for more muscle definition, and I advised away until I the “you’re boring me” cloud came over her expression. Not that I’m any expert, I just love talking about this stuff. Plus, I have a few fellow nuts in my life who exacerbate the tendency to preach the gospel of health and fitness.

This little salad I whipped up from fridge remnants is for you, dear. It’s got protein and all the post-crunch crunch you need to get you through your afternoon.

I don’t usually post on things I throw together on everyday afternoons. Just because I’m a food blogger does not license me to share every morsel chewed and swallowed.  My readers have better things to do than hear about Finn Crisps spread with peanut butter, sardines straight from the tin, and numerous kefir smoothies. (Ok, that last one did get a post, but only because I’m evangelical about kefir!)

But sometimes random is best, as I’ve written about before. Random is beautiful, and when you start with good, wholesome ingredients, you really can’t go wrong.

Today’s creation was good enough to share, at least for inspirations’ sake. The cup or so of quinoa I’d cooked to use in these muffins was sitting neglected beside my eggs. I had a two sticks of celery, a Macintosh apple that was looking to retire, and all kinds of other worthy additions hiding in my freezer and cupboards.

In went the chopped apple and celery. In went the dried cranberries and sunflower seeds. In went the red onion, salt, pepper, and drizzles of sherry vinegar. One bite revealed that no further tweaks were needed. I poured myself a glass of kombucha and settled into my writing.

So wherever you are, ab-girl, keep crunching. And squatting and lifting and curling. You’re already beautiful, but you deserve to be as strong and powerful as I know you can be.

Flashback to last fall: A large sum of money for  a master’s degree I wasn’t sure would benefit me. The economy crumbling. Journalism and publishing thrust suddenly into uncertain terms. Everyone running scared. Most of us dismal.

The news kept pouring in. Magazine closures. Mass lay-offs. Falling stocks. It was a hard time in which to dream, but we pushed ahead. After all, the news — however depressing it was — kept pouring in.

I heard somewhere that if you do what you love, the money will follow.

We listened to speakers challenge us to reinvention. We were urged to develop skills unheard of a year prior. We told each other over wine that it would be OK, that we’d find that elusive “something.” We joked about back-up plans. In the end, some of us pursued them.

And despite the pessimism, words and ideas compelled me on. There was really little else I could do.

There were deadlines and ethics classes and pouring over 100-year-old magazines in the caverns of Cornell University. There were hundreds of phone calls and thousands of emails, and a beast called Media Law.

There was an incorrect byline, and months of correspondence with an editor just to get a tiny piece published.

We fact-checked, edited, and wrote display copy until we were “dek’d” out in punchy prose. We interned, blogged, and built websites as we watched our favorite magazines sink like the Syracuse winter sun.

The things that kept us alive?  Coffee and conversation. Yoga. Significant others. Early-morning swims. Getting published. Parties. Praise from professors. Awards. The simplest things were somehow the most profound.

Well, the money hasn’t followed yet, but a dream I never named as such has recently come true. The ingredients, never much on their own, have coalesced into something of great satisfaction and potential. I feel as grateful for these new gifts as I often do for dessert — a thing so unnecessary, and in a way, so undeserved.

This one is so soft and gently spiced with orange you’ll think the world a better place with each bite. And for now, at least in my little corner of Syracuse, it really is.

Continue reading ‘having my (chocolate-zucchini) cake and eating it too’