A taste of New York

I recently returned from a trip to New York City. Despite the week of meetings I had planned, I made sure to leave time to eat my way through Manhattan (and some of Brooklyn). I asked everyone I knew for recommendations, and also went by my gut (both the instinctive and the grumbling).
I was pleasantly surprised by lunch at L'Express. I was a little disappointed with dinner at Bar Breton (although the company more than made up for that!) I had delicious chestnut soup at Little Giant, and stumbled upon a lovely salumeria on Amsterdam Ave.
There was one place that I loved so much that I had to bring it home with me. Local is a little cafe on Sullivan Street. I wandered in, desperate for coffee and looking for a quick bite to eat. After salivating over their delicious sandwiches I decided to order something they called "pukkolla." It sounded like a muesli of sorts, hearty with oats and bran and studded with dried apricots and apples. Mug of coffee in hand I dug into the pukkolla. It was delicious: the apples and apricots sweetened it slightly and the oats gave it a healthy heft. With a hard-boiled egg and Local's tasty coffee it was the perfect breakfast.
Once I got home I figured I could make my own version. The recipe follows below, although these are rough guidelines. Feel free to adjust and tweak. One note--it tastes best when soaked overnight, as time and memory allow, but is also delicious with a quick soak method too.
I have been enjoying this most mornings since my return, and since I also brought some of Local's Thompson Street coffee home too, it's almost like I'm there!

Local's Pukkolla

Ingredients
2 c. rolled oats
1/2 c. wheat bran
1/3 c. dried apricots, finely chopped
1/3 c. raw almonds, chopped

Apple, unpeeled but cored, finely grated
Milk to cover

Method
Combine oats, bran, apricots and almonds in large bowl. Toss to combine. Transfer to container with tightly fitting lid. This mixture will keep for about a month in your cupboard. The night before you'd like to eat your pukkolla, put about 2/3 c. of the oat mixture into a bowl. Grate in about 1/3-1/2 of your unpeeled apple and stir to combine with the oat mixture. Cover all of this with milk, then cover the bowl with plastic wrap and pop into the fridge overnight. The resulting mixture is a cross between muesli and porridge, but is surprisingly refreshing.

Quick soak method
So you forgot to soak everything overnight. No problem! When you put your coffee on in the morning, pour 2/3 c. oat mixture into a bowl, grate in your apple and cover with milk. By the time that your coffee is brewed, the oats should have soaked up enough milk to be slightly tender.

Treats

Cherry and Blueberry Mascarpone Danish (for Andy)

Pecan Sticky Buns


Doughnuts--Glazed and Apricot Jam-Filled

Quick dinner: Farfalle with Lacinato Kale and Mascarpone

Still snowing in Seattle this March, which calls for a hearty pasta to keep away the chill nights. Lacinato kale is lovely and meaty and isn't as bitter as some of its friends. (Some might say the same of me!) You can play with this simple recipe. For a brighter flavor add a little lemon juice to the pasta and kale before adding the cheese. You could also brown some pancetta or bacon in the olive oil, remove it to a plate while you cook the veggies in its fat, then crumble it on top after you've added the mascarpone.

Ingredients:

1/2 pound farfalle pasta (or other hearty shape like orrechiette)
1 1/2 c lacinato kale, with the ribs removed and cut into 1/2 inch ribbons
1 tsp butter
1 Tbsp olive oil
1-2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1/4 c onion, finely chopped
Salt
Pepper
1/4 tsp. nutmeg (freshly grated is best if you have it. If not, use just a pinch of the bottled kind)
1/2 tsp lemon zest (use a microplane grater to get the finest texture)
2 Tbsp mascarpone cheese

Method:

Put a large pot of water on to boil for the pasta. Add healthy pinch of salt to water.
Once the water is at a rolling boil, add farfalle and cook until al dente. This should take 10-12 minutes. Using a skimmer, remove the pasta from the hot water and set aside in a warmed serving bowl.
Meanwhile, melt butter and olive oil over medium low heat in a saute pan. Add the chopped onion and saute until translucent. Season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Add chopped garlic to onions, stirring occasionally to avoid browning the garlic too quickly.
Bring the salted pasta water back to a boil, then blanch the ribbons of kale in the hot water. Using the skimmer, remove the blanched kale from the water (pressing any extra water back into the pot) and add the kale to the onions and garlic.
Turn the heat up to medium and continue to saute as any excess water evaporates. Season to taste with a bit more salt and pepper, then add the nutmeg and lemon zest.
Toss the cooked farfalle into the saute pan with the onions, garlic and kale. Stir to combine, then return the entire mixture to the warmed serving bowl. Add the mascarpone and stir to encourage it to melt on the warm pasta. Top with another grating of fresh nutmeg and lemon zest and serve.
This should feed two light eaters or one hearty eater (a.k.a my boyfriend).

Operating without a net

When I was a kid I spent hours combining ingredients from my mother's pantry. I wondered what would happen when you blended chocolate into tomato sauce, or roasted garlic and apples and potatoes together. In most cases my "experiments" were just that--way of testing flavors and textures-- but completely theoretical and highly disgusting (although my dad still claims to have liked the garlic apple soup I concocted). I learned a lot about flavors and I think I began to develop my palate at that point.
Once I began cooking for a living I still experimented with flavors but generally within the confines of a recipe. But a little part of me has always been interested in getting back to the most basic part of cooking: what happens when you mix this with that?
This weekend I decided to make a cake without a recipe. Now those of you who aren't bakers might not realize how dangerous this can be. And I mean dangerous in the horrible-heavy-brick-like-baked goods sort of way. Baking is all about chemistry and proportions and even the smallest deviation from the recipe can cause inedible results. I was actually a little nervous--what would happen when I mixed this with that?
Cranberries in the freezer (leftover from the holidays) called out to be used and I mapped out the first round of the rest of the ingredients. I decided a simple cranberry tea cake would be my test subject. After mixing oil and eggs, adding sugar then flour with leavening and finally the cranberries, I spread the mixture in a loaf pan, popped it in a pre-heated oven, and waited with baited breath for the results.
Well, it wasn't quite brick-like. In fact, the crumb was lovely and dense. Perhaps a little too dense, but the cake was still quite tender. I was a little disappointed with the results. I'm a bit of a perfectionist and this cake wasn't perfect.
But as I munched on a slice with some tea yesterday I realized that it represented something important. I was back where I began--exploring the basic building blocks of one of the things I love most in the world, food. Even after cooking professionally for six years, and as an amateur for many more, I still had that lovely, fluttery feeling in my stomach as I wondered what would happen when I mixed this with that. I was operating without a net but flying high.

Foraging: Urban or Sprawl

Saturday morning found the boyfriend and me with our friends, trying to reap the last of the summer weather and summer fruit. Eric and Leigh had come to Mountain View Farm a few weeks earlier and were impressed with the bounty of their berries; they suggested that we fill up now before the end of the season. We headed out on Lowell Road in Everett and before long we had arrived.
We grabbed buckets and headed into the fields. The pickings were a bit slim. Late as it was in the season and popular as this farm was, there weren't a lot of berries to be had. We made the best of it, joking with each other across the rows. The gents had a good time lobbing unripe berries at us and I found that several berries needed to be "quality tested" before I continued to pick that bush.

Kwesi with buckets to fill ** Leigh picking berries ** Berries on the bush

This was definitely a community affair. Although we couldn't see past the highbush shrubs, we were surrounded by a cacophony of languages. We heard Russian and Japanese mixing with English as families tried to keep track of their children in the rows.

After a few hours, even though we hadn't filled our buckets, we had had our fill. As we made our way to the front gate, one of the girls working the farm pulled us aside and mentioned that they had just gotten the go-ahead to open a new section of bushes, with more berries on them. We looked at each other and thought, what the heck?! We went back into the rows and were delighted to find larger, plumper berries clustered on these bushes. We picked in about 30 minutes what it had taken us over an hour to pick before. Satisfied now, we decided that it was time to eat something more than blueberries.
After we settled up, we turned toward Eric and Leigh's to fix lunch. Talk in the car turned to urban foraging--you know, picking fruit from abandoned trees on city lots. Leigh mentioned that she knew of a lot with a fruiting apple tree not far from their house. This was too good to resist!

Willow in abandoned lot ** Pendulous pears ** Kwesi in the apple tree

The lot had an abandoned house on it that had been stripped for all of its parts. There was a lovely old willow and a gorgeous pear in addition to the apple tree. The boys clambered up into the branches and began to throw the fruit down to us. We were a little late for the apples (sadly, tons were rotting below the tree) but on the early side for the pears. We piled them into bags figuring that we could let them finish ripening at home. I felt a bit guilty stealing the fruit from the future owners, but as we drove away we saw a sign for "Proposed Land Use Action." The city is going to demolish the house, and the beautiful fruit trees established there, and put up more condos. Great. I no longer felt guilty about stealing the fruit. Leigh and I are now trying to figure out how to steal the trees themselves! Anyone out there know how to uproot 50 year old fruit trees without killing them? We're kidding, of course, but it's too sad that the city is going to throw the baby out with the bath water.
It was amazing to realize how much food we had gathered just a few miles from Everett city center. We had 35 pounds of blueberries and about 20 pounds of pears between us, plus a few stray apples for good measure. And that's not to mention the crab apples and salal that we could have gathered but didn't. There is bounty here if you know where to look. Now I just need to figure out what to make with 10 pounds of blueberries and 10 pounds of pears. Any ideas?

Lovely crab apples

They're Called Preserves for a Reason

I can't quite believe that so many months have passed since I last posted. The time has flown by--deliciously--filled with hard work, goofy friends and LOTS of good food.

I was inspired to post tonight because I just finished making jam. This might not seem like an accomplishment to some (I know that you're out there watching, Martha Stewart), and to others it may seem unnecessary (why make jam when you can buy it?).

I think it's an accomplishment for a different reason. Every weekend, and yes I do mean EVERY weekend, I buy at least two 1/2 flats of fruit. Ostensibly, I buy this much fruit in order to can it but every weekend I somehow manage to eat both 1/2 flats of berries before I can make jam. Sometimes they make it into a dessert for a party, but usually I just pop handfuls into my mouth every time I'm in the kitchen. *snarf*

I decided Sunday was the day to make jam. I received several pounds of ripe apricots from a friend (someone who clearly knows that's a gift I'd love!) She was hoping to make jam herself, but was heading out on a trip and didn't have time. It's harder for me to O.D. on apricots than berries for some reason, so I pitted them, tossed them in a pot, then actually read the recipe thoroughly and realized that they needed to macerate for 24 hours. *

No problem! I remained undaunted and ran to the market for blueberries. Before I could consume them all, I dumped them into a pot and added sugar. I was going to make jam, by golly. And then I realized that I didn't have any pectin. Pectin, for those of you who buy your jam, is what makes jam thick. Some fruits have a lot of it, but most of your berries and stone fruits need a little help. I wasn't making jam without pectin. I went ahead and macerated my apricots, tossed the blueberry/sugar mixture into the fridge and bided my time.

Tonight, the time was right. After dinner I proceeded to sterilize my jars, chill my plates and simmer my fruit. In years past I overcooked my jam in a misguided effort to thicken it without pectin or too much sugar. Needless to say, this resulted in something that resembled really sweet, really crystallized fruit leather. In a jar. Yum. I was determined to simmer the jam just enough, or even a little less than necessary. (Because really, isn't syrupy fruit better than fruit leather in a jar?)

Simmering apricots *** Blueberry goop

After placing a bit of jam on a chilled plate, rechilling it and testing to see if it was set, I ladled it into my hot jars, lidded and banded them and processed them in the canner. What a satisfying feeling. And what an unholy mess I had made!

Processing the jam ** Unholy dishes** Sticky pan

As I was simmering and sterilizing and processing, a question occurred to me. Most jam recipes direct the cook to "skim the foam off" of the simmering mixture. As I cooked the blueberry jam, I began to wonder why. I couldn't really see the foam on the blueberry goop, and was having trouble skimming it without picking up berries. As I skimmed the apricot goop, I began to wonder if we skim in order to keep clarity in the jam. The foam was more easily discernible on the apricots, and I could see how it might cloud the finished product. Does anyone out there know why we skim? I'm interested in your theories.

As I've been typing, the jam has cooled and I've heard the lids begin to "ping." This is a sign of jars that have sealed successfully. I feel a sense of contentment that I don't always feel in the hurly-burly of my everyday cookery. I think that jam is called "preserves" for a reason. I have put something by for the future. This is the most basic element, and my most basic joy in cooking and eating locally. Tonight, I captured this moment in time in a half-pint jar. The freshest fruit, in season, with a minimum of fuss. In October, when flats of berries are just a dream, I'll be able to open a bottle of jam and taste this summer--its hot days and heavy rains. Although, I might not be able to wait that long.

**Contentment**

* A footnote here. Any cook worth their salt (ha!) will tell you that the first key to following a recipe is to read it through, from beginning to end, first. Clearly, in my jam-a-ganza, I wasn't following my own rule!

Christmas is a Comin In

Every holiday season, I bake treats for various UBS community partners, and I thought it would be fun to make a yule log for one of the organizations that supports my everyday work. It's been about 15 years since I have rolled one of these, and I wasn't quite sure how it would go.

I baked a lovely chocolate genoise, soaked it in a simple syrup made with Pimm's, then filled it with a luscious vanilla buttercream and cranberry compote.

The cake rolled beautifully--it didn't crack, and the finished log was satisfyingly solid.

Once it was chilled, I slathered on a gorgeous chocolate buttercream (seriously stuff!). A true buche de noel wouldn't be complete without meringue mushrooms, so I whipped up a batch and nestled them among some freshly cut rosemary from the garden. A light dusting of powdered sugar 'snow' finished the woodland look.