Frosting Experiments

2016-07-27 18.47.26 smI should have known it would be disappointing.

Nothing can compare to a good cream cheese frosting.

That’s what these delicious pumpkin cupcakes needed, but I had no reason to leave the house yesterday, and couldn’t justify going out simply to get cream cheese.

Surely, I could use yogurt, right? I had yogurt in the house.

A quick search online uncovered a variety of yogurt frostings and glazes. Many were, frankly, disgusting-sounding attempts to make a fatty, sweet confection with no fat or sugar—soy yogurt sweetened with stevia was the worst. But my thought was to just mix yogurt and confectioner’s sugar to a spreadable consistency, with a little vanilla for flavour.

It certainly worked. Two cups of sugar, half a teaspoon of vanilla, and about 3 tablespoons of unsweetened yogurt made a reasonable frosting.

But it wasn’t cream cheese frosting—too sweet and not sour enough. Not enough fat, either. It was less like cream cheese frosting, and more like a sugar and lemon juice glaze. In fact, with more yogurt and less sugar, it would probably make an excellent thin glaze for sticky buns.

Next time I make pumpkin cupcakes, though, I’ll make sure I have cream cheese in the house first.

This Shouldn’t Work

2016-07-06 09.03.42 smOur family is vegetarian, but we don’t go in for veganism. We like our cheese, eggs and milk. A lot.

But sometimes, curiosity gets the better of us.

My husband made hummus the other day, and tried something really weird with the water he boiled the chick peas in.

He made meringues with it.

Yep. Meringues. Who’d have thought.

Turns out, the bean water (call it aquafaba if you want it to sound gourmet) foams up when beaten, just like egg whites do.

The meringues came out crisp, and melt in your mouth just like a meringue should.

There is a slight beany aftertaste to them, but I prefer it to the eggy aftertaste of egg-based meringues. In fact, I dislike meringues as a rule, because of the egg flavour, so these were a real bonus for me. And spread them with lemon curd or Nutella, and that bean flavour is covered up nicely.

Completely crazy, and absolutely wonderful!

If you want to try your own bean-water meringues, there are lots of recipes on line. My husband was inspired by this article and recipe in Slate.

Nutmeg Memories

2016-07-05 09.26.26 smWe were almost out of nutmeg, so I put it on the grocery list.

But finding whole nutmegs here isn’t always easy. I had to go to three different grocery stores before I found one that carried them.

It’s only fair, I suppose, that nutmeg is hard to find here. It grows only in the tropics, and whole nutmegs don’t fit well into the little commercial spice jars.

But there’s not a lot of point in buying ground nutmeg, as the flavour dissipates quickly once it’s ground.

My husband and I were lucky enough to have a friend who did her Peace Corps service in Grenada, where 20 percent of the world’s nutmeg is produced. That’s 20 percent of global production on an island that’s only 349 square kilometres (133 square miles) in size, with a population of about 110,000.

Naturally, we had to visit her during her service. My overwhelming impression was that the island exhaled nutmeg. There were nutmeg trees everywhere, and piles of drying nutmegs along the roadsides. The smell hung in the air and clung to my clothes. It was joined by the smell of mace (also from the nutmeg tree), cinnamon, cloves, allspice, and a wide array of tropical fruits. My memories of Grenada are intimately linked to the olfactory experience.

Since then, I can’t smell nutmeg without being transported back to a white sandy beach, with seawater as warm as bathwater, colourful flowers, and an island that moved in languid tropical time.

Jelly Diagonals

2016-07-02 17.16.26 smLove thumbprint cookies, but can’t be bothered filling a hundred little thumbprints with jam?

Try Jelly Diagonals! Not only are they quicker to make, they look like something special.

I use a recipe from Farm Journal’s Cookie book, but you could use any thumbprint cookie recipe.

Once you’ve made the dough, divide it into four pieces and roll each piece out into a log about 2 cm (¾ inch) in diameter. Lay the logs onto a baking sheet (two per sheet), and press a channel down the length of each log. I use a wooden spoon handle for this. The channel should be a scant centimetre (3/8 inch) deep.

Fill the channel with your favourite jam, and bake until brown on the edges.

Cut into diagonal slices while still warm. Cool on a rack.

Vegetarian Sloppy Joes

IMG_1389My family loves tofu meatballs, so any tofu I buy usually ends up in spaghetti with meatballs. But I enjoy tofu in many forms. Vegetarian sloppy joes comes in a close second to meatballs for me. This is a winter-friendly recipe, using canned tomatoes and dried herbs, but there’s no reason you couldn’t make it with fresh tomatoes and herbs in season.

300 g firm tofu, crumbled
1 onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, chopped
8 button mushrooms, finely chopped
1 can chopped tomatoes
2 Tbsp paprika
1 tsp smoked paprika
½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp ground fennel
1 tsp dried basil
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp mild mustard
2-3 Tbsp olive oil
salt and black pepper to taste

Sauté the tofu in the oil until it begins to brown. Add the onions and paprikas and continue to sauté until the onion is translucent. Add the garlic and mushrooms. When the mushrooms begin releasing their moisture, add the remainder of the ingredients. Cover and bring to a boil, then turn the heat to low and simmer for at least 30 minutes. You may need to uncover the pot during the last 10 minutes or so to allow some of the moisture to boil off.

Serve on Mum’s Fluffy Buns.

Evaluating the garden year

A jumbo pink banana squash--one of last year's winners.

A jumbo pink banana squash–one of last year’s winners.

The new seed catalogue will be out in a little over a week, so it’s time to consider which new plants did well and which didn’t last summer.

It’s difficult to really evaluate varieties I hadn’t tried before, because last summer was so devastatingly hot and dry, but I got a feel for them by how my tried and true varieties did.

Tomatoes were a bust—all varieties—it frosted extremely late, and then was just too dry. But I did find that one of the new varieties I tried—bloody butcher—was extra sensitive to the neighbour’s herbicide overspray. So that one’s off the list for next season.

Same went for the yard long red noodle beans—they didn’t recover from the overspray until March, and then it was just too late.

The blue corn was preferentially eaten by the rats, and none survived past seedling stage. Doesn’t mean I won’t try again next year, but I’ll need to protect it better.

Jumbo pink banana squash was a winner, though. Not only was it a spectacular plant in the garden (anything that can grow half a metre in one day has my vote), but the fruits were equally spectacular. They have good flavour and texture, too. The only real drawback is that it’s difficult to fit one in the oven, because they’re so big.

The purple carrot, pusa asita, was also a winner, though its germination was spotty, like all the purple carrots seem to be. The colour was worth it though, as the purple goes all the way to the centre.

And the fire candle radishes were fantastic—delicious, spicy, and slow to bolt.

I’m looking forward to the arrival of the new catalogue and the chance to try out some new varieties for the coming year!

Pear Compote

2016-06-14 18.46.11 smMy husband brought home a bag of pears yesterday. They were dead ripe, and there was no way we were going to be able to eat them all before they went bad.

I filled a casserole dish with peeled and cubed pear, added a few tablespoons of honey and a similar quantity of lemon juice, sprinkled it generously with cinnamon, and baked it for 45 minutes at 190°C (375°F).

The result was intense and lovely. We had it warm with whipped cream after dinner, but there’s plenty left over. I’m thinking it will be perfect on my granola in the morning…

The Care and Feeding of a Cookie Jar

2016-06-12 11.06.35 smThe role of a cookie jar is to be full.

I didn’t fully understand this until I bought a cookie jar for my husband for Christmas. I didn’t realise the responsibility I was taking on with cookie jar ownership.

As with any pet, the cookie jar requires care and feeding. You can’t leave it sitting empty on the kitchen benchtop. It looks at you with those great big eyes, begging for some biscotti or a few macaroons. Maybe some chocolate chip cookies? You might be able to ignore it for a while, but that empty jar will sidle into your field of view, whimper a bit, and rattle its lid.

Next thing you know, there is butter, flour and sugar all over the kitchen. The air smells of cinnamon and cloves. Kids are hanging around waiting for a bowl to lick clean.

An hour later, you glance at the clock and realise it’s time to start cooking dinner, but you have no idea what you’re going to make. But the cookie jar is full, so everything is alright.

Don’t be George Bush: Eat Broccoli

100_4038 smAs the cooler weather finally hits, we slip into winter eating. That means the stored foods like pumpkins and potatoes, but it also means the cool-weather crops, like broccoli.

Broccoli gets a bad rap, and anyone who has ever eaten overcooked, mushy broccoli has my sympathy. But it’s worth giving broccoli a second chance, even if your first experiences with it were less than delicious. Because it can be grown year-round here, it is a staple in our diet.

Broccoli can be good raw, lightly cooked, or well cooked—it’s all a matter of choosing the right level of cooking for the dish. Here are some diverse and delicious ways to eat this maligned vegetable:

Add raw or very lightly steamed broccoli to a green salad.

Dip raw broccoli florets in your favourite cheese dip.

Lightly steam long broccoli spears and serve with butter, salt, and a squeeze of fresh lemon.

Add chopped broccoli to pizza or pasta sauce, or layer it into a potato gratin.

If you’re feeling adventuresome, make a broccoli soufflé—the broccoli, cheese, and egg combination is delicious.

Marinate and grill long broccoli spears.

Roast broccoli florets along with other vegetables in the oven.

Fabulous Fennel

100_4031 smThere’s not a lot coming out of the garden at the moment. The summer crops are pretty well finished (though we’re still scrounging the odd pepper or eggplant from the tunnel house), and the winter crops barely had a chance, with the hot dry weather we’ve had until last week. But among the few crops that are available right now is fennel.

This little-used vegetable is versatile and delicious in the kitchen, and attractive and useful in the garden. Leaves, seeds, and bulb are all edible.

Fennel grows year-round here, though the cooler months are when we appreciate it most. I plant it in both spring and autumn, but it seeds in readily, and we eat as many volunteer fennel as we do planted ones.

Fennel has a mild anise flavour that goes well with many other vegetables. When raw, the flavour is refreshing and numbing.

Raw fennel, sliced thin, makes a crisp and refreshing addition to salads. Or it can make a salad all on its own.

It can be braised and eaten as a side dish, or chopped and added to stews or casseroles. It goes particularly well with potatoes in a cheesy gratin, and makes a delightful risotto.

Fennel leaves can be added to salads and stews, even if the bulbs aren’t ready to harvest.

The ground seeds make a zesty addition to burgers, chai, and cookies, too! Or just crunch a few between your teeth after a meal to sweeten your breath.

In the garden, fennel’s big yellow flower heads attract all sorts of beneficial insects that help keep pests in check, and when the plants get too big and rangy, I can feed them to the goats, who love fennel as much as I do.