Spooky Fingers

This weekend, when I got a blood red manicure and ended up with a bloody gouge on my thumb (white whine), I was reminded of a Halloween project I've been meaning to undertake (ha ha) for far too long: spooky finger-shaped cookies.

This time of year, these clever Halloween treats are featured in every lifestyle magazine and all over the Web, so I'll spare you an essay on how frightfully fun and eerily easy they are to make. Though I will point out that this would be a fun project to do with kids. It's tactile, messy and has a delightful gross-out factor.

I used this technique but relied on my own recipes for sugar and molasses-ginger cookies, which was a mistake. After I painstakingly shaped the dough into fingers, they spread as they baked and ended up looking like tombstones. Which is fine if you're making tombstone cookies, but I wasn't. Happily, I salvaged the mess by using my hands to roll and shape the still-warm tombstones into fingers. I actually quite like the way they look wrinkled and decayed. But do yourself a favor and use Martha Stewart's (or a similar) recipe for a dough that will hold its spooky shape.

Happy almost Halloween!

Vertical Garden

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of attending the most magical, sweet wedding at The Smog Shoppe. I'd heard about and seen photos of the venue -- a 25 year old automotive shop converted to a green event space -- but I wasn't prepared for how inspired it was up close.

Every inch of the 6,500 square foot indoor/outdoor space is decorated with an impeccably curated (ugh, I hate that word) collection of vintage and reclaimed furniture and objects, many of which pay tribute to the venue's origins. It's Anthropologie flagship store meets grease monkey.

I kind of want to live there (I'll keep the DJ booth but ditch the noise from the buses and traffic), and I definitely want to replicate my favorite element of the space: the vertical succulent gardens that climb the interior and exterior walls.

As much as I'd love to plant a vertical garden to camouflage the awful grey cinder block walls that surround my current rental, it's a rental. So, in the meantime ,maybe I'll hang a giant oil painting of a splendid cat in my bathroom, just like at The Smog Shoppe. 

Or not.

First and fourth images found  here and here. All other images courtesy my outdated iPhone.

Want

Top: Je t'aime Paris by Rebecca Plotnick. Bottom: Butterfly Effect by Mia Tarducci Henry.

Mornings With the Old Girl

Saturday morning, 6 a.m. Her wet nose nudges my shoulder. Groggy with sleep, it takes me a moment to orient myself. My blurry eyes scan the room: ceiling, wall, morning light streaming through the window. Bedside table, lamp, a nose in my face. Floppy ears. Those soulful, imploring eyes.

I rise from my bed in a swift motion -- my least favorite activity of the day -- and wrestle a white t-shirt over my head.

She beckons me to follow her downstairs, let her out, fill her bowl with kibble. Her hips are cranky, her hind legs stiff with age. Her back paws drag ever so slightly on the carpet, making a scuffing sound like an old lady shuffling around in rubber soled slippers. She looks back to make sure I'm following her lead. Hurry up, mama.

In the kitchen, she dances with excitement as I scoop kibble from the bin and dump it in her bowl. Clink, clink, clink. The kibble bounces against the porcelain. Up on her hind legs, she jumps like a kangaroo, her advanced age temporarily forgotten. Defied.

I pop her daily medications into little pill pockets, brown and squishy and bacon scented. Drool pours from her mouth in anticipation of her morning treats. Boing, boing, boing. Again, she dances.

The kitchen floor is cold under my bare feet and I shiver. I put the kettle on and take a mug from the cupboard. Tea.

She shadows me as I go to work making breakfast in the tiny kitchen. 

"Excuse me," I say brightly, and she moves aside so that I can reach into the cabinet for the skillet. "Excuse me," I say again in a singsong voice, and she moves from in front of the refrigerator so I can get the eggs, butter, berries.

"Pardon me." She moves again and again as I move around the kitchen, all four steps of it.

She settles at my feet in front of the stove. Crack, plop, whisk, pour. I stir and swirl the eggs ever so gently over the flame. The toast pops up from the toaster and I slide the skillet to a rear burner on the stove. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Butter, knife, bread.

I slice berries into a bowl, portion the eggs onto a plate and crumble sea salt flakes between my fingers and onto the eggs. The sound reminds me of the noise at the beginning of a record, after the needle drops.

Elbows on the counter, I tuck in to the eggs and sip my tea. The old girl is at my feet, alert for any morsels that might come her way.

I move to the sink behind me (turn, step) and wash my plate. Warm mug in my hands, I take my tea to the sofa where the old girl hops up onto her blanket. She settles next to me, groaning with relief as she sinks into the cushions.

Feet up on the coffee table, mug in one hand, I scratch and pet her muzzle with the other, my fingers tracing her cheeks where teeth have been extracted. The recesses make her face look older, wan.

I twirl her ears in my hand and run my fingers through her fur, now more taupe than grey. It is soft and worn like a wool rug after years of foot traffic.

As has so often been the case this year, when I look into her eyes I see my mother in her distant gaze. And, as usual, the tears come easily and my heart catches in my chest.

These mornings are a lingering goodbye, a meditation on impermanence. Time is measured and fleeting. And yet. These mornings, time seems to slow a little.

Gluten-Free, Vegan Melktert (Milk Tart)

Remember how I told you I'd share the results of my first attempt at making a gluten-free, vegan version of our beloved melktert, provided it wasn't a disaster?

Well, it wasn't a disaster! It needs some further refinement, but it's not bad.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the results. It's one thing to adapt a recipe to be gluten-free or vegan, and another thing entirely to tackle both at the same time. My two biggest fears -- that the custard wouldn't set and the crust would shatter and crumble -- didn't happen. A small victory in my gluten- (and mostly dairy-) free baking journey.

The crust -- made with King Arthur All-Purpose Gluten-Free Flour, Earth Balance Buttery Sticks, and a bit of sugar -- held together, but it's fragile for sure. The brown rice in the flour contributed a nice crunch, but there was a slight bitter aftertaste. There's no bean flour in the King Arthur blend, so I think the odd flavor might be from the Earth Balance. Earth Balance is also quite watery, so next time I'll use vegetable shortening.

As for the custard filling, to be honest it tastes more like coconut tapioca pudding than a milky cinnamon custard, but it's a start. I happen to love coconut tapioca pudding -- and spooned some of the filling, still warm from the saucepan, into a small bowl to enjoy with a sprinkle of cinnamon -- but the tapioca probably isn't necessary. I added it at the last minute out of fear that the custard wouldn't set without eggs (which you certainly don't have to omit if you're avoiding dairy but aren't vegan).

Lest I ramble on any more than I already have, my recipe and notes are after the photo...

Gluten-Free, Vegan Melktert (Milk Tart)

Serves 8

Unlike traditional melktert made with egg, in this version the custard isn't baked after being poured into the pre-baked crust.

For the crust:

1 1/4 cups gluten-free flour (I used a packaged blend as noted above, but plan to experiment with my own blends. I think teff and almond flours would contribute to a nice crust, and ground flax would help hold the dough together.)

1/2 cup vegetable shortening or 1 stick Earth Balance Buttery Sticks

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

Ice water (If needed; Earth Balance is so moist, I didn't need to add water.)

Additional gluten-free flour for rolling the dough

Vegetable cooking spray

1. In the bowl of a food processor (or in a medium bowl using a pastry cutter), combine the flour, shortening or Earth Balance, sugar and salt. Pulse until the mixture comes together in large clumps and holds together when you press it between your fingers. Add ice water, a tablespoon at a time, if needed.

2. Turn the dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap or lightly greased parchment paper, cover with another sheet of plastic wrap or paper, and press it together to form a disc. Refrigerate, tightly wrapped, for at least an hour.

3. Heat oven to 400 degrees F. Unwrap the dough and place it on a floured work surface. Roll it out into a circle to fit an 8- or 9-inch pie or tart pan, dusting the rolling pin and dough with additional flour as needed. Transfer the dough to the pie or tart pan and press it evenly into the bottom, edges and sides. (My dough tended to crack and split at the edges and when I rolled it and when I transferred it to the tart pan, but you can press the pieces back together much more easily than when working with dough containing gluten.)

4. Bake the tart shell until golden brown, about 20 minutes, turning it as needed to ensure even browning if your oven has hot spots like mine. (You won't need to use pie weights, nor prick the dough with a fork to prevent it from bubbling up. It also doesn't shrink like many doughs that contain gluten.)

5. When done, remove the tart shell from the oven to a rack to cool while you make the custard filling.

For the custard:

3 cups coconut milk (I used "full fat," not lite, coconut milk, figuring the fat would make the custard more creamy and thick.)

3 sticks cinnamon, broken into pieces

1 whole nutmeg

1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 cup granulated tapioca (optional)

1 tablespoon vanilla bean paste or extract

Ground cinnamon for sprinkling over finished tart

1. In a heavy bottomed medium saucepan set over medium heat, bring 2 1/2 cups of the coconut milk, the cinnamon sticks and nutmeg almost to a boil. Remove from heat to cool for about 10-15 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, whisk the cornstarch, sugar, salt and tapioca (if using) in a medium bowl. Add the remaining 1/2 cup coconut milk and whisk or stir until thoroughly combined. Set aside.

3. Remove the cinnamon sticks and nutmeg from the warmed coconut milk, set the saucepan over medium low heat, and slowly whisk in the cornstarch mixture. Cook, stirring constantly (and scraping the sides, corners and bottom of saucepan to prevent clumping), until the mixture is thickened, about 10-15 minutes. Remove from heat, stir in the vanilla, and set aside to cool for about 30 minutes, until warm (you can speed this process by transferring the custard to a clean bowl and stirring it at regular intervals).

Assembly:

Pour the warm custard into the prepared tart shell, sprinkle with ground cinnamon to taste, and refrigerate, uncovered, until set. Slice carefully and serve.

Melktert (South African Milk Tart)

I miss South Africa -- and my in-laws -- like crazy. So it didn't take much for my husband to persuade me to make a melktert on Sunday.

Melkwhaaaat? Melktert. Milk tart if you insist on English. Sheesh.

Few foods are more traditionally South African than melktert, a custard pie brought by the Dutch settlers. What differentiates melktert from European and American custard pies is the higher ratio of milk to egg -- milk which is infused with cinnamon and, occasionally, tangerine peel, almond and/or nutmeg. There are many variations, and everyone's ouma (grandmother) has "the best" (secret!) recipe, but the crust is typically puff or short pastry and the filling is often lightened with egg whites.

I've used several different recipes for melktert and this one from Epicurious is my favorite. With a few adaptations, of course:

- Infuse the milk with 3 cinnamon sticks, broken into pieces, and two whole nutmeg
- Substitute cornstarch for wheat flour (i.e., omit flour and use 1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon cornstarch)

- Increase sugar to 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons

- Substitute vanilla bean paste for vanilla extract

- Reduce baking time for assembled tart to 30 minutes (10 minutes at 400 degrees F, then 20 minutes at 350)

- Sprinkle tart with cinnamon sugar before baking, as well as cinnamon before serving

The finished tart is light and barely sweet, the ideal companion to afternoon or evening tea, all of which makes me dream of sitting around the table with my in-laws in South Africa. {sigh}

And last night? Well, last night I made a gluten-free, vegan version that's been chilling overnight. I'll share the recipe if it's not a total disaster when I slice into it this evening...

Warm Broccolini Salad

Now that you've got some roasted baby tomatoes and mint gremolata on hand, I suggest you toss them with warm broccolini, crumble some feta on top and dig in. It's an ideal dish for practicing the USDA's new food icon, MyPlate, which I love because it makes me think our country is getting serious about mindful, responsible eating.

And in case the USDA doesn't convince you to eat more vegetables, head over to the New York Times and read Mark Bittman's argument for a plant-based diet augmented with limited quantities of wild fish and sustainably, ethically and locally produced meat, dairy and eggs.

Amen.

Warm Broccolini Salad

Serves 4-6

This dish reminds me of the vegetarian antipasto (green beans and broccoli marinated in olive oil and lemon) at Tommaso's in San Francisco's North Beach. A favorite dinner spot during frequent family visits to the Bay Area, Tommaso's wood-fired pizza oven is renowned but I think their vegetables deserve equal acclaim.

1 lb. broccolini, rinsed and ends trimmed

2 tablespoons mint gremolata

1 cup roasted baby tomatoes

1 tablespoon crumbled feta

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Steam the broccolini until crisp-tender (about 5 minutes). Transfer to a collander and rinse briefly under cold water to halt the cooking process and preserve the bright green color. Roughly chop the warm broccolini, place it in a large bowl, and add the gremolata and roasted tomatoes. Toss to combine. Serve with a sprinkling of feta, salt and pepper. Or cover and marinate in the refrigerator for up to 24 hours before serving.

Roasted Baby Tomatoes

For me, few foods -- save for blackberries and watermelon -- conjure summer (or childhood) like tomatoes. Although the growing season in California is nearly year round, I associate tomatoes' cheerful skin (and shape!) and sweet-tart flavor with summer months. And something about their salty/mineral fragrance reminds me of evening rain on sun-warmed soil.

Summer won't officially be here for a few more weeks, but I like knowing I can get a taste of it (almost) anytime. So I keep baskets of cherry and grape tomatoes on hand for snacking. I just pop them into my mouth -- no need to dress them up or fashion them into sauce or pie (though making tomato tarts is on my To Do list).

But let's say you do feel like doing something a little more glamorous with them, or perhaps the tomatoes in your area haven't yet reached their peak flavor. Roasting them in the oven with a little olive oil and salt is just the thing to jazz them up without making too fine a point of it.

They're a great topping for fish, pasta, bread and vegetables. But be careful. You just might find yourself plucking them from the baking sheet and popping them into your mouth.

Oh, and another thing: your house will smell like a tomato patch that's been warming in the sun all day and it's just begun to rain.

Or am I overselling it?

Roasted Baby Tomatoes

1 pint cherry and/or grape tomatoes, rinsed and dried

About 1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil

About 1/4 teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Mound the tomatoes in the center of the baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt. Using your hands, toss the tomatoes with the oil and salt to coat evenly, and scatter the tomatoes on the baking sheet. Be sure not to crowd the tomatoes together, or they'll steam instead of roast.

2. Roast for about 20 minutes, or until the tomatoes begin to wilt and wrinkle. Using a spoon or spatula, gently stir and toss the tomatoes around on the baking sheet and return to the oven for another 20 minutes, or until the tomatoes have a slight char.

Grilled Butterflied Leg of Lamb with Mint Gremolata

Most weekends this spring, I've been butterflying legs of lamb, marinating them in a mixture of garlic, lemon and herbs, and grilling them for the week's dinners and lunches. Laird is happy with the arrangement because the lamb is tasty and he doesn't have to do any of the work. I'm happy because it's all very easy and, well, Laird's happy.

Did you read between the lines in the paragraph above?

That's right. I do the grilling in our family, not my husband.

He used to. When we were dating, he'd invite me over for grilled Cajun salmon or rib eye with mashed potatoes and vegetables. But as soon as he slipped a wedding ring on my finger, BAM!, he forgot how to grill (and cook, mostly). But I'm (mostly) not complaining. Before we were married I wasn't accustomed to cooking dinner every night, and never cooked on the grill. (I was scared to even light it. It's a gas grill, and igniting gas makes me nervous.) Besides, I considered grilling to be a decidedly male pursuit.

But I conquered my fear of gas explosions and quickly found my footing. And something surprising happened: I've grown as a cook. By stepping outside my comfort zone -- the stove top and oven -- I've expanded my repertoire of seasonings, techniques and cuts of meat.

Last weekend I even kept my cool -- and kept on grilling -- when The Headless Hound emerged from the bushes behind the grill with a mouse in her jaws. And although you won't find me shrieking or jumping onto a table when confronted with a rodent (I grew up on a mountain farm, after all), I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't shaken up by having to deal with a dog parading around not-quite-dead vermin.

Oh dear. This talk of mice is going to put you off, isn't it.

Anyway.

The point is, a year ago I never dreamed I'd butterfly and grill a leg of lamb. But that's exactly what I've been doing -- and loving -- these days. You should, too.

Or you could get your significant other to do it.

Either way, it's perfect for Memorial Day and every day.

Grilled Butterflied Leg of Lamb with Mint Gremolata
Makes about 8 1/2-lb. servings

This flavorful lamb is tender enough to be reheated for quick lunches and dinners throughout the week. Be sure to reserve some gremolata for serving; it also makes a fantastic dressing for vegetables and grains.

1 4-1/2 lb. boneless leg of lamb, butterflied (Your butcher or meat department should be able to do this for you. Obviously my idea of "butterfly" is to "cut into chunks.")

1/2 cup olive oil

1 tablespoon sea or kosher salt

1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

Cloves from two heads of garlic, peeled (use less if desired)

Zest and juice of two lemons (Tip: zest the lemons before juicing.)

1 cup fresh parsley leaves

1/2 cup fresh mint leaves

1. Rinse the lamb and pat it dry. Trim excess fat to about 1/4 inch and score it (as pictured, above). Place the lamb in a large bowl or shallow dish and set aside.

2. Make the gremolata: place the olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic, lemon, parsley and mint in the bowl of a food processor or blender and process until a loose paste forms (the mixture will be like runny pesto). Reserve about 1/4 cup of the mixture for serving.

3. Pour the gremolata over the lamb, turning and rubbing the lamb pieces to coat. At this point, you can cover the lamb and let it marinate in the refrigerator for up to two days, or marinate it at room temperature for up to two hours. Either way, the lamb should be at or near room temperature when you grill it.

4. When you're ready to cook the lamb, heat your grill to medium. Remove the lamb from the marinade, scraping off excess marinade (it burns easily). Place the lamb on the grill, cover and cook for about 10-15 minutes or until nicely charred (the marinade will smoke and flame a bit as it cooks). Leave the lamb alone; moving and turning meat on the grill tends to make it stick, inhibits grill marks, and toughens it. Turn the lamb over and cook for about 10 minutes on the other side, or until nicely charred and a meat thermometer inserted into the center of the thickest part registers 145 degrees F for medium-rare. (The temperature will rise to 160 as it rests.)

5. Remove the lamb from the grill and set it on a plate or platter to rest for about 10 minutes. I like to place grilled meat on a wire rack set over a baking sheet (see photo, below) and rest it in a warm (150 to 200 degree F) oven. I like to maintain my hard-earned char and grill marks, and find that putting meat on a plate and tenting it with foil can result in it steaming and becoming soggy on the underside where it rests in its juices. Any juices that collect on the baking sheet can be drizzled over the meat when served.

6. Slice lamb across the grain and serve with reserved gremolata. It's also great with tzatziki. (Trader Joe's is divine if you're not up to making your own.)

For weekday lunches, Laird reheats the lamb slices and wraps them in warmed flatbread with sliced red onion, tzatziki and crumbled feta. Yum.

Showing Up

I'm glad my last post resonated with you. Isn't it validating and motivating to know that others struggle, too, and that ruts and disappointments don't have to equal defeat? Thank you so much for the encouragement. I need it. We all do.

For further inspiration, check out these recent posts by Megan Gordon (A Sweet Spoonful) and Penny De Los Santos (Appetite), who seem to know exactly what I (we) need to hear these days.

Visions of Greatness Or Something Like It  - Megan perfectly articulates the trick of balancing the monotony of commercial baking with the reward of connecting with people through hand crafted food -- something I struggled with when I was baking professionally. She shares some great insight from Ari Weinzweig's book, A Lapsed Anarchist's Approach To Building A Great Business (which I promptly ordered), putting it thusly: "Crafting a Vision of Greatness... differs greatly from a mission statement in that it's more specific and is really a full-scale picture of what things will look like when you've arrived at where you're going and things are working well... [It's] a statement of optimism in the future and you've got to have this... It also allows you to create your reality instead of just reacting to problems... Regardless of what business you're in or what personal goal you're pursuing at the moment, it takes a lot longer to make something great than most people think. So many of us put such high expectations on ourselves for things to fall into place in a short period of time... Some of it has to do with our fast-paced culture and increasingly short-attention spans, but some of it also has to do with limited knowledge on the importance of staying power in most creative pursuits. There's something to be said about just showing up."

What If You Are Good Enough - Penny argues that no matter how many times our pursuits are rejected, we are good enough. "Whatever it is you want to do, you can do it.  Whatever it is you want to be, you can be it. So go do it." 

So I've been showing up. I've cooked, styled and photographed a few recipes in the past two days. A sneak peek is below; the images are straight from my camera and need a bit of processing, but I like them.

Grilled Butterflied Leg of Lamb, Lemon Mint Pesto, Slow Roasted Tomatoes

Broccolini, Lemon Mint Pesto, Slow Roasted Tomatoes, Feta

I'm going to keep showing up. Promise me you will, too, okay?

Fight Your Way Through

It's no secret I've been in a blog slump lately. Whenever I think about writing and photographing a new post, I'm discouraged by thoughts such as, That's a vain thing to blog, That's not an original enough idea or recipe, and You don't have the talent or expertise to style and photograph that. Another factor is time; I'm challenged to find and devote the hours required to conceive, cook, style, light, photograph and process (let alone write) a story. Plus sometimes blogging seems so... self-involved. Which is odd considering how much I enjoy and learn from other blogs.

When I really think about it, something else is behind my slump, something for which I didn't have words until I came across a quote today from my beloved Ira Glass, Tweeted by Adrianna from A Cozy Kitchen, via Terilyn Fisher's Fish Food blog. (Huh? Also, what was I just saying about others' blogs? Exactly.)

So, without further ado, I re-blog these encouraging words from my favorite hipster nerd crush, courtesy of some people who aren't in a slump like me.

Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.

- Ira Glass

Ira's words are spot on and I am taking them to heart. It's only through practice that we -- that I -- will achieve growth and maybe, eventually, mastery.

Oh, and if you look to your right, at the list of blogs I follow, you'll get a glimpse of my killer taste and why my work disappoints me to the point of paralysis. But I'm gonna fight my way through... yes, I am.

Video Tutorial: Homemade Bread

If you've ever been intimidated by the thought of making bread at home (yeast! the horror!), I put together this little video to demonstrate how easy it is.* Special thanks to Gemma, The Headless Hound and my husband (who really is that impatient when food is concerned) for their help. Enjoy!

*Okay, this video is by the amazing William Wegman and originally aired on Sesame Street. Thank you, Jake, for reminding me of this and all of Wegman's hilarious -- and instructional -- videos (the Hardly Boys is a long time favorite). We wish we could get Gemma and The Headless Hound to help out in the kitchen, especially in the mornings when we are in need of tea and toast. Gemma is more suited to, say, a tutorial about posing for chalk body outlines, don't you think?

Hot Cross Buns

Have I ever told you that my husband and I kind of got engaged on Easter Sunday? And that homemade Hot Cross Buns may have sealed the deal?

I say "kind of got engaged" because there wasn't a proposal at all, really, so much as a conversation about the future; a future we committed to create together as a married couple.

But there were Hot Cross Buns -- the first batch I ever made, and the first my husband had tasted since leaving South Africa seven years prior. You see, Hot Cross Buns are everywhere in South Africa -- at supermarkets, convenience stores, gas stations -- especially at Easter. But they're nearly impossible to find in Southern California, so I did what I tend to do: I made my own.

I don't recall the recipe I used. They were good, not great. I remember thinking they needed more raisins, sugar and spice. But hey, my husband ate them and decided to marry me, and now we have an Easter tradition and a cute story.

When I made Hot Cross Buns this year, I used Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond's recipe. It's brilliant in that she calls for layering spiced sugar and raisins in the dough, which by the way is probably the easiest yeast dough you'll ever make. I made it entirely by hand, and as long as your yeast is fresh, it's foolproof. I took only two liberties with Ree's recipe: I doubled the raisins (we really like our raisins) and was more generous with the sugar-spice mixture (mine was heavy on cinnamon, with a dash of freshly ground nutmeg and a pinch of ground cardamom).

Whole Grain & Seed Bread

I wanted something hearty and healthy to pair with the walnut butters I made this weekend, and this Whole Grain & Seed Bread was just the thing. The recipe yields two loaves; I sliced and froze one, though you could halve the recipe if desired.

Whole Grain & Seed Bread
Makes two 9x5" loaves

This bread is dense and substantial (verging on heavy) and therefore better suited to toast than sandwiches. You could lighten it by substituting unbleached all purpose flour for half the whole wheat flour, but you'd be diminishing its whole grain benefits.

4 cups warm water (It should feel neither hot nor cold when you dip your finger in it.)

1/3 cup honey

2 packages (4 1/2 teaspoons) active dry yeast

6 cups whole wheat flour

2 cups old fashioned oats (not instant)

1 cup sunflower seeds

1/2 cup coarse cornmeal

1/2 cup flax meal

4 generous teaspoons sea or kosher salt

Unbleached all purpose flour for kneading and shaping loaves (about 1 cup)

Cooking spray

1. In a medium bowl or large measuring cup, stir the honey and yeast into the water and let sit for about 5 minutes or until the mixture is foamy. (If your mixture fails to foam within 10 minutes, your yeast isn't active and you'll need to start over with new yeast.)

2. Meanwhile, in a very large bowl, whisk together the whole wheat flour, oats, sunflower seeds, cornmeal, flax meal and salt. Add the liquid yeast mixture and stir with a wooden spoon until a stiff dough forms. Turn out onto a floured surface and knead until the dough is smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes, adding small amounts of all purpose flour (no more than 2 tablespoons at a time) as needed to prevent it from sticking. (Note: I divided the dough and used my KitchenAid mixer to knead it in two parts.)

3. Unless you have a bowl the size of a cauldron (lucky you for having the cabinet space), divide the dough (if you haven't already, as I did in Step 2) and place each piece in a large bowl coated with cooking spray. Cover with towels and set the dough in a warm place to rise for about 45 minutes, or until it's doubled in size and indentations remain when you press it with your fingers.

4. Working with one portion of dough at a time, punch it down and turn it out onto a well-floured surface. Dust with flour and roll into a rectangle about 10 x 15 inches. Starting with the short edge, roll up the rectangle tightly, pressing to rid it of air pockets. Place each roll in a 9 x 5 inch loaf pan coated with cooking spray, seam side down, tucking the edges of the roll under if needed. Cover with towels and set in a warm place to rise for another 45 minutes or until doubled again in size.

5. Heat oven to 350 degrees F. Uncover loaves and place in oven on center rack; bake for about 40 minutes or until they're browned and sound hollow when tapped.

TIP: To get a brown and chewy crust, use a spray bottle to periodically (about every 10 minutes) spray the bottom and sides of the oven with water. (Open the oven door just enough to spray the water into the oven, then close it immediately.) Steam is an element you can easily add to your home baking repertoire to make your bread more bakery-like.

Homemade Walnut Butter, Two Ways

Have you ever noticed that, generally speaking, jarred walnut butter isn't readily available? I often find myself optimistically scanning store shelves for it, only to be disappointed by its continued absence from retailers in my area. (In case you're wondering, I'm talking about Trader Joe's, Grow, Whole Foods and Bristol Farms. Let me know if you've seen it elsewhere.)

I'm not the only one scratching my head at its omission from an ever expanding lineup of nut and seed butters. Fellow foodie (and Bar Method devotee) Diana, of Diana Takes A Bite, feels my pain, as evidenced by our recent Twitter exchanges.

Search Google for "walnut butter" and you'll find a handful of online sellers and Amazon shops (see: Artisana and Fastachi), but mostly you'll find recipes and tips for making it yourself. Which is exactly what I did.

You should, too -- it's easy, healthy and tremendously satisfying. All you need are walnuts, a food processor or blender, and maybe some sea salt, cinnamon and honey.

I'll never long for commercially prepared walnut butter again. And, to be honest, this exercise proves there's no reason to buy jarred nut or seed butters, period.

I made two batches, neither of which involved a recipe so much as tasting and experimenting along the way, so be prepared to be the same. There are worse things, right?

Toasted Walnut Butter with Sea Salt

Makes about 2/3 cup

The following quantities are approximations.

2 cups walnut halves and/or pieces

Heaping 1/4 teaspoon sea salt

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees F and spread walnuts evenly on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Toast walnuts for about 10 minutes, stirring them around halfway through.

2. Allow walnuts to cool before transferring them to a food processor or blender. Add about 1/4 (generous) teaspoon sea salt and process until a butter forms, stopping the processor occasionally to scrape down the sides and bottom. Be careful not to over process, or the butter will quickly become a paste. Store the butter in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Raw Walnut Butter with Cinnamon & Honey

Makes about 1 cup

The following quantities are approximations.

2 cups raw walnut halves and/or pieces

Heaping 1/4 teaspoon sea salt

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/3 cup honey

1. In a food processor or blender, combine all ingredients and process until a butter forms, stopping the processor occasionally to scrape down the sides and bottom. Be careful not to over process, or the butter will quickly become a paste. Store the butter in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

This walnut butter begs to be spooned onto oatmeal, stirred into quinoa or spread on toast. (For the latter, I made hearty whole grain bread.)

Goodies From Bakesale For Japan

Bake Sale Success!

Have you heard? Bakesale for Japan has raised $120,254.38 and counting! This is no surprise considering how flawlessly the event was orchestrated by Samin Nosrat (San Francisco Bay Area and nationwide) and Breanne Varela (Los Angeles).

I was thrilled to participate at the Akasha Restaurant location along with the lovely Akasha Richardson, her husband, Alan, and a team of talented and enthusiastic bakers and volunteers. Together, and thanks to the generosity of those who showed up to buy our sweet treats, we met our goal of contributing $2,500 to L.A.'s total of $15,484.

Samin, Breanne, Akasha, Alan, Karen, Yvonne, Adriana, William, Craig, Shawn, Yuko, Mika and Becca: you are amazing.



 



I donated 96 Browned Butter Brownies to the bake sale and bought a bag of other bakers' goodies, including Chocolate Peanut Butter Macarons from Secret Marmalade, Lingonberry Shortbread and Whoopie Pies from Hummingbird Catering, Breanne's Granola Cookies from The Larder at Tavern, Craig's Lemon Bars, and Milk Chocolate Almond Toffee from Truly Toffee. My heart and tummy are full.

Big Man Bakes

You know how I've been (mostly) off sugar? Not so much this week, what with the arrival of Jen's irresistable Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Bars and White Chocolate Biscotti. And last week... well, last week I ate a bunch (read: all) of Stew's outrageous Sunflower Butter Blondies. And a slab of chocolate cake. So, yeah... I'm cutting back on sugar.

Anyway, today someone in my office brought in two dozen mini cupcakes from Big Man Bakes.

Heavens, are they good. I only sampled one, but it was perfection -- a teeny tiny vanilla cloud. Which, as it turns out, is exactly what this girl needs at 4:45 p.m. on a Thursday.

How did I not know about Big Man Bakes until today?! I adore "Big Man" Chip Brown's story. Watch out, Laird. I've got a bit of a crush.

Birthday Sushi

When I was a small child, my family observed a Japanese style macrobiotic diet about which my mom was enthusiastic and thorough. When I suffered from colic and sleeplessness as a baby, mom took me to a macrobiotic consultant whose written analysis and recommendations I still have (but don't follow). Mom even researched, wrote and illustrated a book manuscript about seaweed. And don't get me started on her homemade pan fried onigiri -- brown rice balls flecked with sesame seeds and dipped in soy sauce. Heaven.

Though my parents became more conventional and relaxed about our diet and lifestyle as we grew older, we never abandoned our love of Japanese food. I've always been partial to oyakodon, and mom loved vegetarian sushi rolls.

So, last week, in observance of what would have been my mom's 70th birthday, we went out for sushi. We wanted to go to Takami because the restaurant is donating 100% of its profits to the Red Cross Japanese Relief Fund, but for logistical reasons we ended up at our local favorite, Sushi Sei. Their sushi chefs are all from Japan, and we were relieved to learn that their families back home are safe and accounted for.

Given the situation in Japan, and that our meal was in remembrance of my mom, it was a somber celebration of life; of picking ourselves up and moving forward, stronger from (and never forgetting) our losses. Food is life, and culture, and place, and memory, all of which we are grateful for.

The meal was also an opportunity to play with my new (to me) camera for the first time. Though the following photos are rife with problems (Frankenfood, anyone?), it's remarkable that I was able to capture images at all, given the restaurant's dim green and red lighting.

My amazing husband.

Best. Tuna Tataki. Ever.



Crispy Rice Balls with Spicy Tuna and Avocado



Grilled Salmon and Scallops with Salt and Lemon
(Ack! Too much bokeh! Take a step back, Maggie.)

We made sure to leave room for birthday cake. We headed over to Zane's, which may as well be one of those restaurants that serves food in complete darkness. As you can see, mom's birthday candle was basically the only source of light.

We made a little birthday wish for mom, then devoured the most decadent chocolate layer cake on the planet. Warmed. With chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream. Mom would have approved; even in her macrobiotics days, she always appreciated a treat.

Happy birthday, mom. We love and miss you.

Photo 101 by Nicole Hill Gerulat

For the past month or so I've been quietly (and obsessively) assembling a food and documentary photography outfit. This would not have been possible without the advice and tireless patience of my photographer friends Jake and Yuki. [Thank you both for putting up with me; I am an obsessive pain in the a--.] I've also been doing a lot of reading and research on my own, not only about equipment but about photography in general.

Someday I might do a post about what's in my kit (which is made up of new and used equipment), but as I learned at the Phototasting workshop and from subsequent practice with a $180 point and shoot set to as many manual settings as possible, equipment is worthless if you don't know how to use it, or how to style and compose a shot, or have a basic understanding of exposure and lighting.

Look, I'm hardly (and will probably never be) qualified to dole out advice about photography. What I am qualified to tell you is that a) I'm excited about improving the photographs on this blog, b) Jake and Yuki are awesome, and c) should you not be so lucky to have friends like them, I highly recommend the book Photo 101 by Nicole Hill Gerulat.

A photographer, teacher, writer, blogger, culinary school grad, and former food stylist and photo editor (what am I missing... ah, yes, she has a Pilates certification too), Nicole has a gift for demystifying technical/nerd stuff and presenting it logically and beautifully. Photo 101 has helped me get a handle on some concepts with which I've been struggling; I've had a lot of "aha!" moments reading and studying it. (It's taken up residence on my nightstand and in my hand bag. I read it daily, yes I do.)

So if you're at all interested in learning what makes a photo good and how to take one, and there's not a Phototasting workshop (or Jake or Yuki) near you, you might want to pick up Photo 101. Nicole also has a lovely blog, A Little Sussy, and offers books, online courses and in-person instruction at Nicole's Classes.

As Nicole advises, happy shooting! And please come back here soon for what I hope will be greatly improved photos. (And undoubtedly some funny stories about figuring out my new-to-me kit.)

*This is not a sponsored post. I randomly stumbled upon Nicole's Classes and purchased Photo 101 myself.*