Honest Peanut Butter

I have the best students. Not only are they engaged, enthused, and game for almost anything, they are generous – especially baking students. People who love to cook also love to share, but bakers are true givers. One of my Artisan Bread Series students made me the gift of a jar of blueberry jam that the put up over the summer. (Thanks, Benny!).

A confirmed jam freak, I had to have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich immediately. There was no bread around, so Bay English Muffins went into the toaster. Bay's are located in the refrigerator section of the grocery and they beat Thomas's all hollow.

Now, I’m a Jif gal, but homemade jam deserves homemade p.b. Luckily, it’s easy to make! And without added sugar and fats, it’s unabashedly peanutty.

Cleaning Out My Fridge: Kale

What's the deal with kale? Even the smallest bunch seems to yield more than you need for most recipes. Chuck's greenhouse garden is still producing the stuff well into October. What to do with the dividends? And, no, please don't say "kale chips". They're vile and blecherous.

Best solution: soup. A true Italian minestrone has black or lacinato kale in it, and I think any vegetable soup benefits from a few handfuls of kale, chard, or collards. However, my favorite use for the leafy green is in a local recipe favorite: Portuguese Kale Soup.

Char Sui Extreme!

I'm looking forward to the Parent/Child Dim Sum class that coming up on October 12 because my current appetite mood is definitely East, not West.

Maybe it was all the noodle shops we frequented on vacation; when we got tired of deciding where to eat at night, one of us would invariably say, "let's go to the Noodle Box". Back at home and facing an empty fridge, my first impulse was to load it up with all the usual suspects. But then the Asian noodle craving took over again.

Eating American History

Oh, say can it be election time already? We talk about food and holidays around here a lot, but never address the festival nature of American political elections. This ain't a new thing in this country, this marathon of rallies, speeches, flesh-pressing, and baby-kissing. Early American elections used to be multi-day affairs and, to keep up their strength, participants had to eat and drink through all the speechifyin' and what-not.

Allow me to present the Old Hartford Election Cake, one of the oldest recipes associated with American politics. Its origins are debated but recipes can be traced back to pre-Revolutionary New England, especially in Connecticut (and don't omit the Nutmeg State's ingredient!). It really peaked in the mid-nineteenth century and the old recipes present many challenges to modern cooks. We're using a more user-friendly version here.

A Honey of a Hummus

Rosh Hashanah is here! 

Okay, it arrived last night, but I'll share one of my favorite recipes to celebrate the day, since there's tons of it left! This is a variation on that old stand-by, hummus. Everyone seem to like the ubiquitous chickpea mash: it's great for the GF and vegetarian crowd and it's easy to make. (It's even easier to buy, but commercial varieties manage to be creepy, bland, and expensive.) The original recipe here was from an old National Honey Board recipe pamphlet picked up at some long-ago aggie fair. As usual around here, the original recipe has been tweaked!

Egg Sandwich Sermonette

The title of this blog is Cacklefruit - which is diner-speak for eggs, a subject I'm passionate about. (It was almost named Deadeye, which is a poached egg, but I didn't want to limit myself). And on that note, today's homily concerns the egg sandwich.

Many moons ago, I came across a little self-published cookbook on the joys of midnight snacking. A great subject but the author blandly stated that the egg sandwich was not an appropriate midnight snack. Blasphemy! As a kid, I can remember waking in the middle of the night, certain that I was dreaming of eggs frying in butter, the smell was so immediate. But a light from the kitchen downstairs revealed the reality: my mother in her fleece bathrobe, frying up an egg sandwich in her little cast-iron skillet. The type of bread escapes me - white toast? - but the beverage of choice (chocolate milk) and the plate she served it on (a folded paper towel) were always part of the ritual. It seemed to be the perfect thing to eat in the middle of the night.

McDonald's brought the egg sandwich to the world with their Egg McMuffin. I still love them and bet DaVinci would have, too: the Vitruvian Egg, perfectly inscribed in both the square of semi-melted processed cheese food and the round pink meat disc. And nestled between two flabby semi-toasted English muffin halves, all for 99 cents (probably about 20 florins for ol' Leonardo). The McMuffin is usually hot enough to burn the hell out your mouth, too.

Quick Sweet Pickles

People love the idea of canning but the reality means standing over a boiling kettle - usually when the temperature is in the triple digits. But there are alternatives, modern cooks!

Quick pickles are a snap, especially if you have a microwave handy (and you can make them on the stovetop if you don't). Cucumbers are classic, but we like thinly-sliced zucchini and summer squash with a few slices of red pepper for color. And daikon-carrot is a big favorite. You can also use caulk-florets, green and wax bean pieces, wedges of cabbage, corn - almost any end-of-summer veggie you have lying around.

These must be refrigerated; if you want to can them, you can do so, but they must be done in a sterilized jars (and lilds) in a water-bath for 15 minutes. That's 15 minutes after the water's come to a full boil - usually when your spectacles start steaming up. The point at which you're wondering why? Why are you doing this? Try the quick pickles - they're cool in more ways than one.

Quick Pickles
(1 pint)

1 Cup apple-cider vinegar
1/2 Cup of white sugar
2 teaspoons mixed pickling spices
2 teaspooons kosher salt
2 Cups thinly-sliced cucumber (or other thinly sliced or julienned veggies)
1 thinly-sliced onion (a small one)

Combine the vinegar, sugar, spices, and salt in a 1-quart microwaveable bowl. Cook on HIGH for 1 minute; stir to dissolve sugar.

Add the veggies and onion and stir everything together well. Microwave on HIGH for 4 minutes; stir well, then cook on HIGH again for 3-4 minutes. Stir and let stand 15 minutes.

Cover and chill until ready to serve. They're even better the next day!

Carrot Cake Quest

I’m sitting at my dining room table in Victoria, blogging and watching the harbour tugs putt-putt up the waterway (note the spelling of harbor; when in Rome…).

Tug-watching is only one of the many pleasures here; the other is my quest for the perfect slice of Carrot Cake. Why carrot cake? Hey, why not? I don’t eat it any other time of the year. Victoria is not necessarily known for it. I don’t even make it anymore (and I make killer carrot cake). But every year, we spend two weeks here in the Northwest, where coffee shops abound. Daily, we visit a different one, sometimes a favorite, sometimes a new one. The coffee is always great, but the real draw for me is the treats that go with the coffee: cookies, bars, muffins, etc. And there’s always carrot cake on the menu.

This year I’m limiting myself to a quest to find the best coffee shop carrot cake in Victoria. There will be distractions, like biscotti and Nanaimo Bars and brownies and lemon squares, but I will be true to my goal. Most shops offer the carrot cake – and if they don’t, well, I may not return, even if the beans are primo.