Peaches are, undeniably, my favorite summer fruit. You know the game we used to all play as kids—if you could only eat three things for the rest of your life, what would they be? Peaches have held a long-standing, coveted position on my list. They reek of summer, taste like heaven and are one of the types of pies we’re serving at the wedding.
Ah yes, the wedding.
This would explain my long absenteeism this month. We’ve been busily making, creating, detailing, planning, calling, emailing, checking, double checking, calling again, and last-minuting for the past few weeks and will continue to do so up until the big day: August 20th. We’re so excited! The pie, the celebration, the mountains, and being surrounded by family and friends will be amazing. But the best part? Being able to call Andrew my husband and planning our lives together.
LOVE!
An abundance of berries. Red, blue, black, pink, and purple, their deep jewel tones hint at their velvet luxury, their bursting flavor. Not to mention they are gorgeous. Just looking at berries makes me happy! But that could also have something to do with a few things, namely knowing deep in my bones that it is summer and that I’ll be eating them soon.
A few weeks ago, my friend Laura Beth who I took a piece of her chocolate cake from and I did a photoshoot for Metrocurean, a DC everything-food website. It was a fun spread, all about creating a fun summer table centered around a bounty of berries. Then, of course, we ate them.
Check out the article on Metrocurean here. Have a great rest of your week and weekend!
What is it about hands that are so captivating? They connect us with the world around us through work, touch, and holding on tight. They help us understand things better, they help us understand each other better—think: old adage about your handshake with the world. I’ve found them fascinating to watch, especially in a place as tactile as the farmer’s market.
Touch is such a huge part of the buying process there—is this ripe enough? does it feel bruised or broken? We use our hands to pick out the choicest morsels to bring home, to eat, to savor. And I’ve found myself more and more drawn to photographing them in action. Over and over I see people reenacting this ritual of feeling, touching, caressing, and picking, filling their bags until they reach that pivotal and personal point of “I’m done.”
Ed Brown, in his book The Tassajara Cookbook, talks about liberating our hands in a way that has stuck with me since I first read it several years ago:
“Our hands love to handle things, to do things: knead bread, caress cheeks, dig with a shovel, fiddle with wiring, pluck guitar strings. Hands that are idle grow restless and bored and, worse perhaps, begin to feel useless and unappreciated… Hands love to do what hands can do, but the mind often says, “No, you can’t. I don’t feel like it.” The hands are ready, the mind is what’s reluctant.”
It is a simple and fundamental pleasure I feel when I am busy, productive, and making with my hands. It’s that “I did this, I made this!” kind of satisfaction—even if it is just bringing home the best darn produce I could find from the market. Although, the satisfaction is even greater when it’s pottery or bread or looking at the garden I planted.
What have your hands done today that have helped you understand something better, or they’ve made that you are proud of?
The winter time food slump. You know it and you may even know it well. It’s hard not to think about it when it’s literally in your face–the same five meals over and over again. Even Andrew has decided enough is enough, especially since recently seeing Forks Over Knives. To prepare for our new found zest and turning over a new leaf, we even ordered two new cookbooks to prepare for getting in gear and doing some good ‘ol fashioned meal planning. (There’s nothing like some new inspiration to get things moving!) Sure we may hem and haw over planning our meals initially, but when you are making the same five things each week or you want to try something new and you just need that one blasted ingredient you don’t have (which means you ultimately revert back to one of the same five rotating meals), you are sad you didn’t plan ahead. At least this is the story in our house. One of the answers? Simple sauces, chutneys, and pickles.
As you know, we’re moving. February 1st to be exact. Somehow, this has excused us from making regular grocery trips with regular grocery lists, and we have been either scavenging with what we have or eating a lot of Laughing Planet. I opened my freezer the other day and did a little dig through (a good thing to do every now and then lest there are some treasures hiding), and found a two pound bag of gleaming organic cranberries begging to be used.
Cranberries in and of themselves can be a hard fruit to use because they are loud. They bite, they pucker, they leave you feeling parched and twisted—that is, when you force them to stand alone. As an accompaniment however, they are a flavor-seeker’s dream come true. Eat these babies on the side of some freshly sauteed greens, spread a little on a cracker with a dab of goat or blue cheese, spruce up dry chicken breast, and don’t forget trying it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Photo by my dear friend Leela (whom I will miss dearly!) while enjoying a decadent, spicy sipping cocoa together (there are more photos on her blog!) My ring is from the mid-1800′s Victorian era, found at Antoinette’s a lovely vintage and estate jeweler.
But really, what’s on the plate hasn’t been so much of a focus because we’ve been on cloud nine here. The engagement bliss permeates all aspects of our lives: silly grins, calling each other fiancée all the time and laughing, and an indescribable feeling akin to deep peace. I never knew how fantastic this would be! I wasn’t a girl who dreamed of her wedding or how she would be proposed to. But this could not have happened sweeter and I could not be a luckier woman. Andrew is a deeply caring and wonderful man, who listens with not only his head but with an open heart. His silly one-liners he busts out, adventurous spirit, fearlessness about trying new things, and his uncanny gut feelings are just but a few of the thousands of ways that make him who he is: wonderful. I am loved and I love him. It does not get any better than that.
Cranberry Chutney
12-ounce bag fresh cranberries, rinsed and drained, or frozen berries
1 1/4 cup sugar
1 1/4 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup orange juice
5-6 cloves
1/4 teaspoon whole allspice
1/4 teaspoon black peppercorns
1 2- to 3-inch cinnamon stick
4 teaspoons peeled and roughly chopped fresh ginger (about the size of your thumb, maybe a bit bigger)
1 teaspoon powdered yellow mustard
2 tablespoons yellow mustard seed
Wash eight 8-ounce jars and lids. Combine all of the ingredients with 1/2 cup water in a large saucepan and bring to a rolling boil. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.
Pour the pickled cranberries into decorative glass jars or plastic containers. Cover with the remaining liquid and attach lids. Store in the refrigerator for up to 6 months. They get better the longer you keep them. Cheers!
Macadamia nut
It’s no surprise that the fruits in Hawaii are delicious and everywhere. The volcanic soil seems to concentrate everything, making the flavors of fruits seem brighter, richer, and more aromatic. My first encounter with volcanic produce was while living in Greece. The tomatoes there were ridiculous and unlike any tomato I had ever tasted in the states. (Beware tomato—haters, I dare you to try one if you ever go to Greece and see if you change your mind!) The fruit on Hawaii has that same, unbelievable quality to it’s flavors. Not only were we buying it at local farmer’s markets and fruit stands on the side of the roads almost everyday, but beautiful emerald avocados, bright yellow bananas, and wild macadamia nuts were growing alongside the mile-long trails that lead you to foot-traffic-only beaches (meaning they were deliciously deserted). We were feasting everywhere we went, and all we had to do was make sure we brought a sharp enough knife to get into these sweet, fatty gems.
At one farmer’s market stall, I met Nader, a Parisian ex-pat living in Hawaii, selling fruit, and teaching cooking classes. He offered me some of his homemade guacamole and hummus which were both fantastic. I love the camaraderie that happens over mutual love and bonding over food!
Guacamole is probably one of my top 10 favorite things to eat. I keep it super simple to make fresh and it will make you happy as well as the hungry crowd happy every single time, guaranteed.
Super simple guacamole
2-4 avocados (depending on how large they are and how many you are feeding) 1-3 garlic cloves (also depends on how many avocados you’ve used and how garlicky you like things) 1 lime salt to taste 1/2 fresh tomato (and only if you are feeling fancy, I usually only add this in when they’re in season)
Slice the avocado, take out the pit in the middle, then score and scrape out the soft, green middles into a bowl. Crush and finely chop your garlic, add it to the bowl. Slice your lime and squeeze one half of it into the bowl.
Using a fork, mash it all together up the sides. I like to keep some big chunks but have a nice, creamy base too. Taste. Add salt if needed and more lime, if needed. Mash together a little more. Serve with your favorite tortilla chips and enjoy.
Yep, it’s another apple recipe. Frankly, I can’t seem to get enough of them. I walked into my favorite grocery and there were piles upon piles of heirloom and antique apple varieties as far as the eye could see. Well, at least as far as my eye would let me see–because all I wanted to do was sample each and every one of those autumnal gems. And I did. When this happens, I usually bring home at least one of each kind (which drives the cashier insane) and sample throughout the week. Last winter, it was citrus. This fall, it’s apples.
Quick breads also remind me a lot of this time of year. Maybe it’s because all of the best kinds (pumpkin bread, zucchini bread…) all make me think of the fall with their fragrant spices and rooted goodness. Apple bread certainly takes its place among them. I saw this recipe about a month ago but wanted to wait until peak apple season. I’m glad I did.
What I love about this bread is not only the apples, but it’s molasses counterpart. It is the molasses, mingling with fresh nutmeg and a hint of cinnamon, that brings me back for a second slice. The apples and apple sauce give it a fantastic, gooey texture. It is sweet, but not over the top, the sweetness coming mainly from the apples and apple sauce. Although, the brown sugar does add a nice depth. I substituted the butter with olive oil (I like my quick breads made with oils instead of butter) and it was great. The whole wheat keeps things stable (both in the bread and with the ‘ol blood sugar) and gives it just the right amount of density.
Don’t skip the glaze either, it adds a surprising kick of apple flavor to the bread, unlike the apples already inside. I think it is more fragrant than anything, with a strong, wonderful smell of apples trapped in the liquefied sugar syrup. Then, cozy up with a slice of this and a cup of tea for a snack. Or, spread some nut or seed butter on it in the morning. Enjoy!
Glazed Apple Molasses Bread, via Whole Living
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1/2 cup whole-wheat flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves Pinch of ground allspice 6 tablespoons softened unsalted butter OR olive oil 6 tablespoons light brown sugar 1/4 cup molasses 2 large eggs 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 1/4 cup applesauce 2 apples 1/2 cup granulated sugar
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter and flour a 5-by-9-inch loaf pan. In a medium bowl, whisk together all-purpose flour, whole-wheat flour, baking powder, kosher salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and allspice.Use an electric mixer to beat together butter and light brown sugar until fluffy, about 4 minutes. Add molasses; beat until combined. Add eggs, 1 at a time, plus vanilla, and beat until incorporated. With the mixer on low, add half the flour mixture and beat until just combined. Beat in applesauce; add remaining flour mixture until just incorporated. Peel and core apples, reserving the peel and the core. Cut apple into 1/4-inch cubes, and fold into the batter. Transfer to pan, and bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 1 hour, 10 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack; let cool completely.
Apples are in full effect. Everywhere I look it’s apples, apples, and more apples. Not that I’m complaining or anything–quite the contrary. I love apples, especially Honeycrisp. Biting into one of those bad boys and hearing that satisfying crunch, feeling their sweet juices spray out the sides, maybe even dribble down your chin, it is one of the best things about autumn. Sometimes I get overzealous at the market and buy one too many apples. Last week, however, this was not the case. I had to make an Apple Kuchen and an Apple Pie for a photoshoot, so I ended up having quite a few apples and some flaky pie crust dough left over. And there is only one thing that you can do with left over apples and pie dough–another pie? no (I need a little variety)–tartlettes.
This is no simple slice-up-some-apples-and-lay-them-in-a-pretty-circle tart. There is a fantastic layer of something akin to fresh apple sauce underneath that ring of sliced apples. It’s delicious. While there are a few steps involved (true to anything related to Julia Child of which the recipe was inspired by), it’s not as hard as you may think. Personally, I really enjoy the “stacking functionality” of working in the kitchen and how everything can be timed to work right into the next task. It’s so satisfying! And these tartelettes were a testament to that in the best kind of way. First, you deal with the dough then bake it. Second, you slice up the apples and toss them in a mixture. Third, remove crusts from oven and put in those apple slices. Fourth, slice the rest of the apples for the tops of the tarts, toss with brown sugar and lemon. Fifth, take out the apples from the oven, mash them up into a nice, chunky sauce. Sixth, scoop into baked crusts, arrange apple slices on top, sprinkle with sugar. And finally, bake. Of course this is an abbreviated version of which I’ll disclose the entire recipe for you below, but it’s that step by step process that gets me every time. I think I revel in it because so many other aspects to life are so unpredictable and full of unknowns. It’s comforting to know that by following a good recipe, it will come out exactley as expected (as long of course all the other variables are in place, but I could theorize about this forever).
The tartelette and it’s recipe are seducing for so many reasons–and they certainly got me in the best kind of way. They became a sort of temporary respite, giving me time to pause, taste, and think. As well as make something beautiful and immediate–because sometimes creating beauty and a finished product is so necessary, especially when I’ve been focusing on the everyday minutia (boring!) instead of the bigger, more grand picture of life. The tartelette did an amazing job of merging the two, breaking up the daily routine and giving me time to look beyond. Isn’t food amazing?
French Apple Tartelettes adapted from Julia Child’s, Baking With Julia
Apple Compote 4 Granny Smith apples 1/3 cup brown sugar 3 teaspoons all purpose flour pinch of cinnamon (just a little) 1/4 cup fresh, fluffy bread crumbs (I used some from the Honey Oat Bread and it was good) 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out for the individual tartelettes, about 1/8 inch thick. Run your rolling pin across the top to sheer off any excess dough, then peel it gently off. If you need too (and Julia highly recommends) chill the dough in the pans for another 30 mins. My dough was very cold already, so I skipped this part. However if you just made the dough and didn’t have it resting in your fridge or freezer, I would also recommend chilling the dough in the pans for 30 mins. This gives the gluten in the flour a chance to calm down after it’s been handled so much. In turn, you’ll have a flakier, even more divine crust.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Fill each tartelette with parchment paper and dried beans, rice, or pie weights. Bake for 10-15 minutes or until the dough turns golden brown. Upon removing from the oven, let cool for about a half hour. Lower the temperature of the oven to 375 degrees F.
While the dough is baking, make the apple compote filling. Peel and core the apples, cut each one in half, and cut each half into 12 pieces. Put the apples into a bowl and toss with the sugar, flour, cinnamon, and bread crumbs. Add a squeeze of lemon juice. Spread the apples on a jelly roll pan and bake for 15 to 20 minutes, until the apples give up their juices, start to form a sauce, and are soft enough to mash, Scrape the apples into a bowl and mash with a potato masher, fork, or immersion blender. Keep a few small lumps and bumps for texture. Taste and add more lemon juice if needed. Let it cool for about 15 more minutes. Meanwhile, peel, core, and slice a few more apples (about 3, depending how big they are) for the top slices.
Spoon the apple compote into the individual tart pans. Toss the top apple slices with a big squeeze of fresh lemon juice, 1 tablespoon unsalted butter melted, and 1 tablespoon brown sugar. Arrange the slices on top of the apple compote, dot with butter and sprinkle with white granulated sugar. Bake for 25-30 minutes at 375 degrees F.
This tart is at its prime ever so slightly warm or at room temperature. You can cover any leftover tartelettes with plastic wrap and refrigerate it, but don’t expect them to retain their just-baked grace. I personally put the left overs into a large tupperware and it lives on my counter. I didn’t want to take the chances of chilling them and then eating a sad replica of the crisp, warm goodness it originally was.
Bon Appetit!
I’ve been busy lately. It’s been good, but I’ve sorely missed my kitchen. We went back east to visit my family over the Labor Day weekend which was fantastic. I’ve also been working on a few other projects–but more to come on that soon. When I got back to Portland, the law of opposites caught right up with me. My absence from the kitchen catapulted me to the other end of the spectrum where I needed to bake something a little fancy and a touch grand.
Figs are happening here. It seemed to happen over night but there they were, their soft, velvety skins and green caps, beckoning me. I found a huge box at the store–on sale. Oh all right, I thought to myself in a tone not far from a school marm, outwardly sharp but inwardly secretly anticipating a fun kitchen challenge. Why I keep the inner-glee over small pleasures like finding the seasons first ripe figs from myself of all people, boggles my mind. But I still go along with it. With a pleased little smile pursed on my lips, I walk out of the store with my giant box of figs.
Dorie Greenspan’s boozy honeyed fig cake recipe was where I stopped. I contemplated for a few days, slicing open a fig here and there to savor it’s sweet milkiness and soft seeds. This helped me think, of course, and plan for what to make. But her recipe was where my slicing and thinking and planning came to an abrupt halt. I’d hit a wall and now I needed to turn left and make it. I have to laugh at myself because when it comes right down to it, I never plan what to make too far in advance. It’s always a gut feeling, what is freshest at the market, or what I have on hand. I knew from the moment I grabbed that box of figs that a cake was going to happen, I just didn’t know which one. (Again, why I pretend with myself sometimes boggles me. And again, I go along with it.)
Even with this cake, I added some fresh nutmeg. But the honey port caramel I kept true to the recipe. It became a surprise beginning and ending–it’s candy chewiness something to savor with the last crumbs of cake. Perfect for a fall picnic with your friends, the extra step of making the sauce is well worth it. Dollop it with some vanilla or almond hinted whipped cream if you want an extra bit of decadence–life’s short, I say go for it.
Dorie Greenspan’s A Fig Cake for Fall, via Food Blogga Makes 8-10 servings
3/4 cup ruby port 1 cup honey, divided 2 thin slices lemon 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 16-20 fresh figs, stemmed and halved 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1/2 cup yellow cornmeal, preferably medium grind 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/4 cup sugar grated zest 1 lemon 1 1/2 sticks (12 tablespoons) unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces, at room temperature 3 large eggs, preferably at room temperature 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1. Stir the port and 1/2 cup honey together in small saucepan. Add lemon slices and bring to a boil over medium heat. Lower the heat. Add figs, cover, and cook 4-6 minutes, or until figs are soft but not falling apart. Using a slotted spoon, transfer figs to a bowl. Raise the heat to medium and cook the liquid for 15 minutes, or until slightly thickened; the syrup should coat a metal spoon. Remove from heat and let cool.
2. Place a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9-inch springform pan. Line the bottom with parchment paper and butter the paper. Dust the inside of the pan with flour, tapping out the excess. Put the pan on a baking sheet lined with parchment.
3. Whisk flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and salt.
4. In a separate bowl, add sugar and lemon zest; rub together with your fingertips until the sugar is moist. Add butter. Using a hand mixer, beat the butter and sugar at medium speed until creamy, about 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating for 1 minute after each addition. Pour in remaining 1/2 cup honey, and the vanilla extract; beat for 2 minutes. Reduce mixer speed to low, add dry ingredients, and mix until just incorporated. The batter will be fairly thick. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and jiggle the pan from side to side to even out the batter. Scatter poached figs over the top.
5. Bake for 55-60 minutes, or until the cake is puffed and golden brown and a knife inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer the cake to a rack and cool for 10 minutes before running a blunt knife around the edges and releasing the sides of the pan. Cool the cake slightly before serving. Serve warm or at room temperature. Drizzle slices with wine sauce.
Cheers!
For the past month or so, I’ve been planning. Spectacular, beautiful, and meaningful eating design events have been playing through my mind’s eye over and over. Interesting, I would think to myself as I watched these scenes unfold before me. And I really couldn’t (and can’t) help it, they just burst into my head. At first, I didn’t judge them. It was fun day-dreaming (the best form of mental exercise there is), seeing what my imagination would come up with next. But then, when I started to question this use of my time, and mainly myself, I started to panic. Literally, worry. And not just a little, but a lot. What does this mean? Why is this happening? Ugh, I thought, talk about putting a damper on things. When this happens, and I’m lucky enough to catch myself at it, I try to frame things in a new light for myself to help me step outside of the issue, ex: If your best friend came to you and confided she’d been having some wonderfully creative ideas popping up, would you dissuade her and her process by asking non supportive probing questions? No.
As it turns out, there is still a lot of MFA left in me. In fact, it’s not going anywhere. That experience, while it will take me the rest of my life to fully digest, did so much for me in the way of coming into my own. While I will be forever grateful for this, there is a lot to sort through still–something I have been putting off for, oh, the past year. Forming my creative self and coming into my own was anything but easy. Doing this under (and do mean under) intense scrutiny, critique, and little to no support would leave anyone wary–not to mention worn out. But the old adage “time heals” is certainly true, especially in this case. Except, it wasn’t my conscious mind per se, that let me know it was alright to start living creatively again, it was my day dreams. It’s amazing what a little rest, recuperation, and a focus on health will do not only to the body, but the mind as well. And those non supportive probing questions I default to asking myself (and inciting panic and immobility)? Just leftovers from a critical juncture in my personal growth. Now that I know this, I can (literally) move on!
Wouldn’t it be nice if life were always a single, aligned package, all wrapped up with a neat little bow–and presented to us for us to unwrap? I used to think so, but now I’m not so sure. Yes, it would make things “easier” in the way of knowing what’s to come exactley and not having any surprises. But it’s those surprises that force us to grow, to think for ourselves, and to live. Life may seem like a bottomless pit while we go through an especially tough time. But once through and can look back, you are undeniably a different, deeper person. That personal experience is priceless and in the end will help shape the future. The trick is, I’ve discovered, is to really understand what we’ve been through in order to know where we are going. I tried and tried to push down the shame and guilt I felt for not “living up to” the standards of my school, my parents, of whomever-I-felt-I-let-down-before; for not “creating” in a way they saw fit, or living my life in a way that they could understand. Cliche sounding, I know. But, it’s even more weird when you realize,
hey, that’s exactley what I’ve been doing.
It’s even weird now to say out loud. But, I’m excited because I can take action and do something about it.
All of this thinking and multiple realizations later, (of course) I found myself in the kitchen. My focus was on these oat bars and trying to find one that I could make over and over again, to have as a staple snack in the house. Crunchy, chewy, layered with texture and pizazz, I want no ordinary oat bar. So I recipe tested until I found the winner. Of course (and this ALWAYS happens!) Heidi Swanson‘s power bars won out. She is incredible, seriously, incredible. And her recipes, well, they are all over-the-top incredible too. So you know what to expect from these oat bars then–sheer amazingness. The other blueberry oat bars were delicious too, don’t get me wrong. But they were actually more like a dessert than a grab-and-go kind of thing I was looking for. I’d make them again for sure and the filling options could be endless (substitute the blueberries for pumpkin, cherries, apples, you name it…). So really, it was a win win for us all.
Happy recipe trying (and meditating)!
Cranberry Ginger Power Bars, via Heidi Swanson
1 1/4 cups walnut halves (5 ounces) 1 1/2 cups puffed brown rice cereal 1 1/4 cups rolled oats 1 cup dried cranberries, chopped 1/2 cup oat bran 3 tablespoons finely chopped crystallized ginger 1 cup brown rice syrup (see Note) 1/4 cup natural cane sugar (see Note) 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Preheat the oven to 350°. Lightly spray an 8-by-11-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Spread the walnuts on a baking sheet and toast until fragrant and golden, about 9 minutes. Let cool, then coarsely chop. Transfer the walnuts to a large bowl. Add the puffed rice, rolled oats, cranberries, oat bran and ginger and toss well.
In a small saucepan, combine the brown rice syrup, cane sugar and salt and bring to a boil over moderate heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is slightly thickened, about 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla. Pour the syrup into the rice-oat mixture and toss to coat thoroughly. Transfer the warm mixture to the prepared baking dish and pack lightly with a spatula greased with cooking spray. Let cool for at least 45 minutes before cutting into 16 bars.
The cranberry-walnut bars can be wrapped individually in plastic wrap or waxed paper and kept in an airtight container for up to 4 days.
Blueberry Oat bars, via Fat Free Vegan Kitchen
1 pint blueberries 1/4 cup agave nectar 1/4 cup apple juice 1/2 teaspoon vanilla 2 tablespoons cornstarch mixed with enough water or juice to form a smooth paste
3 cups oatmeal* (regular, not instant) 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt 6 ounces unsweetened applesauce 6 tablespoons (3/8 cup) agave nectar 6 tablespoons (3/8 cup) water 1 teaspoon vanilla
Preheat oven to 375F. Oil an 8×8-inch baking dish.
In a small saucepan, combine the blueberries, agave nectar, and juice. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. When it boils, stir in the vanilla and the cornstarch mixture. Continue to stir as the mixture boils and thickens. Remove from heat and set aside.
Put 1 1/2 cups of the oatmeal into a blender and grind it to a fine powder. Pour it into a medium-sized mixing bowl and add the remaining oatmeal, cinnamon, baking powder, and salt. Mix well. Stir in the apple sauce, agave nectar, water, and vanilla, and mix well.
Spread half of the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing well to cover the bottom of the pan. Spoon the blueberry filling over the batter, and cover the blueberries with the remaining batter.
Bake for 30 minutes, or until the top is lightly browned. Allow to cool before cutting into bars.
Food is so inspiring. Especially during these months of abundance, when gardens and orchards seem to be overflowing with their bounty. When I saw all the different varieties of plums at the market last week, I couldn’t help myself. I bought one of each color (or each variety). They ranged in the most beautiful jewel tones I have ever seen. From amethyst to ruby, black opal to peridot, the vibrancy and deep richness of these colors were seducing. At home, I was even more happy when I put them all on a plate together. They happily stared back at me in their vibrant coats, slightly glistening in the morning light. I left them there for a few days, just enjoying their beautiful colors in my kitchen, until I realized that they needed to be eaten together. As one. In a tart.
For this tart, I used the flaky pie dough recipe from Baking with Julia (Child, that is. Have you seen the DVD of her showing you how to do this? It’s fantastic and utterly Julia. Try renting it from your local library!). She is a big proponent of lard–and I must confess–this does help quite a bit with the texture and overall exceptional quality of the dough. If you do use lard, or some sort of shortening, just make sure it’s non-hydrogenated. But for the fruit filling, I went with my instincts–no real recipe, per say. The colors spoke of their flavor, their tight skins hinting at their juiciness. And although the plums were a little tart (not a bad thing when baking fruit!) I just added a scoop of local raw honey, then a few dribbles of vanilla, tossed it together, and baked.
Margit, one of this year’s pietopia winners, pointed me in the direction of a fantastic book by Nigel Slater called Appetite. In it, he describes a recipe as a living thing, “something allowed to breathe, to change its nature to suit our ingredients, our mood, our desires.” Food can really let us tap into our most inward expressions, things we can sometimes have a hard time connecting with for one reason or another. Slater encourages his readers to take in the spirit of the recipe, and to recognize that our ingredients, feelings, and hunger are not variables that can be subjected to a strict formula and “laid down in tablets of stone.” Break the rules, follow your appetite.
Recipes are wonderful frameworks, places that we can see how others are combining flavors and textures. But they don’t need to be always followed strictly by the book. Even with baking, there is wiggle room for adding or simplifying recipes and tastes. Pie dough, in particular, becomes something that you follow the recipe in the beginning, but then you get to know it with your hands. How the feeling of the butter and the flour should be between your fingers, how a little bit should taste on your tongue. The recipe simply helps get you to that place of certainty with your own hands. Do you ever find yourself stressed out in the kitchen because you missed an ingredient, didn’t follow an instruction to the T, or didn’t stir the dry into the wet all at the same time? Try starting with something simpler in nature. Something that doesn’t take ten pots and twelve bowls to make. Something that speaks to you because you want to taste that specific flavor. And it doesn’t have to be complicated. In fact, sometimes the more simple the recipe is, the easier it is to over-under do something, because there are less ingredients. But that’s OK. Take a deep breath and try again. And taste it along the way! You’ll be amazed by your results.
Summer Plum Tart 6-8 summer plums, varying colors and shapes 3 tablespoons fresh honey 1 capful of vanilla extract 1 carton fresh raspberries
Wash, slice, and throw out the pits of the plums. Toss them with the honey, vanilla, and raspberries. Set aside.
Julia’s Flaky Pie Dough 5 1/4 cups pastry flour or all purpose flour 1 tablespoon sea salt 1 1/2 sticks (6 oz) cold unsalted butter 1 3/4 cups shortening (non-hydroginated, Spectrum is a good brand) or lard 1 cup ice water
To make the dough by hand, mix the flour and salt together in a large bowl. Add the butter and, using a pastry blender or your fingers, cut it into the flour until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs. Be patient–this takes a while. Break up the shortening and add it in bits to the bowl. Still working with the pastry blender or fingers, cut in the shortening until the mixture has small clumps and curds. Switch to a wooden spoon and add the ice water, stirring to incorporate it. Turn the dough out onto a work surface and fold it over on itself a few times–don’t get carried away. The dough will be soft, but it will firm sufficiently in the refrigerator.
To make the dough in a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, put the flour and salt into the bowl and stir to mix. Add the butter and mix on low until it is cut into the dry ingredients and the mixture looks coarse and crumbly. Add the shortening in small bits and continue to mix on low. When the mixture is clumpy and curdy and holds together when a small bit is pressed between your fingers, add the water and mix only until it is incorporated. Turn the dough out onto a work surface and fold it over on itself two or three times, just to finish the mixing and to gather it together. Wrap tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or as long as five days.
Note: Julia spent so much time on her recipes, perfecting them, each word a necessary step, in order to give people a chance to make food delicious in their own homes. Notice how she wants you to really look at it (clumpy, curdy) and to feel it (press between your fingers) in order to understand what it is your are doing. Give it a try! Getting your hands dirty is not only rewarding, but fun. And you can always wash them when you are done:).
On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough into a circle about 1/8 inch thick and fit it into a 9-inch fluted tart pan with a removable bottom. Press a little of the overhang against the edge of the pan so that it produces a small ledge protruding over the inside of the pan. Place partchment paper down in the center then pour in a lot of dried beans until it is very full. This will help keep the sides of the tart on the sides, instead of sliding down to the center. Bake at 375 F for 20-25 minutes, until golden brown. Let cool while you make the filling or check your email.
After slightly cooled, pour the fruit filling into the center, making sure to get all the juice from the bottom of the bowl. Bake at 375 F for about 40-45 minutes, or until the fruit is nice and juicy, maybe even a little crisp on some of the edges. Enjoy!
ps–for some more fun photos of Pietopia this year, check out the Portland Farmer’s Market Flickr link! There are some really good ones 
.
