Showing posts with label Comfort and Restoration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comfort and Restoration. Show all posts

26 January 2015

Blue Monday: Steak Sandwich and Chips

150124 Steak Sandwich and Chips 1

Depending upon who you talk to (or believe) today is Blue Monday.  It could also have been last Monday, or the Monday before that.  Maybe every Monday in January is Blue Monday.  By that standard, maybe every Monday of the year is a Blue Monday.

How do we know it's Blue Monday?  Because someone quantified it.

Look!  It has a greater than symbol!  Look!  There are uppercase and lowercase letters above *AND* below a line!  Look! There are even brackets and letters to the power of other letters!

Squeeeeee!

It looks mathy and sciencey so it must be true!

Of course just as someone quantified depression to a single day, someone else has published their own study indicating comfort food is a myth.

Why don't these justification-through-quantification types use their (ahem) immense smartitude for good, as opposed playing to sunlight-deprivation and emotional stunting?  Maybe they read 1984 and thought Ingsoc was the key to Utopia.  Maybe they watched Another Brick in the Wall's conveyor belt scene and thought we should all be faceless (and docile) automatons.

It all seems to be about more Sheldon and less Penny.

Kinda makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?

For those of us who have bad days and whose blue days aren't triggered by a convergence of nonsensical numbers gussied up in the name of science, the occasional wallow in happy memory triggers can make things seem better. For some people it's solitude and an aptly-chosen record, for others it's a night with a best friend and a movie with a favourite actor, and for others, it's food.

The lovely thing about comfort food is how individual it is to the person.  While many think of tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich as comforting, not everyone thinks of the same soup recipe (or tin), and the sandwich may be on different breads, different types of cheese, and there may be other things tucked in with the cheese--onions, bacon, avocado.

For me, often the effects of a bad day (not a horrendous day, but one bad enough for me to come home in a funk) can often be numbed by beef and potatoes.

It's on days like these, I want something that doesn't make me think, something that's relatively quick, and something that's easily adaptable to what I have on hand.  Sometimes it's a burger and fries. Other times it's beef fajitas.  Other times it's a steak sandwich.

I feel rather odd about offering a recipe for this as it's something I just pull together, based on what I have, or what I can find.  Here's what I did for the sandwich photographed:


150124 Steak Sandwich and Chips 8Steak Sandwich and Chips

For the sandwich
Sprinkle Schwartz's Montreal Steak Spice on the steak (for about $5, my butcher had a lovely sirloin medallion).  Let sit in the fridge until you're ready to eat.

Sauté  mushrooms and onions with salt, pepper, thyme and a splash of balsamic.

Pat the steak dry with a kitchen paper and fry in a hot pan until it's done to whatever point makes you happy.  Remove from pan and set on a minced garlic clove.  Tent the steak with tin foil and let sit for about 10 minutes.

Cut the mini-baguette in half and set the cut sides in the steak pan, to sop up the fats and juices.  Slather one half with English mustard.

After the steak has rested, slice the steak and arrange on the bottom half of the baguette.  Top with mushroom mixture, and the top half of the bun.

For the Chips
By chips, I mean chunky fries.  Jamie Oliver has a technique that's pretty close to mine, but instead of sprinkling with rosemary after they've cooked, I toss the chips in an oil and steak spice before roasting.

The Sheldons of the world will need precise measurements--weights and volumes, temperatures and times, and will whiteboard an arcane argument pointing out why what I've posted is just wrong.  The Pennys of the world will make (or get) a sandwich (like or unlike this one) and eat it, with or without chips, while listening to New Order.


Bazinga.


 cheers!
 jasmine
 I'm a quill for hire!

20 February 2011

Vanilla Pudding

Like a mighty oak, I have been felled.

Okay...I'm not that tall...

Like a just-just-as-mighty jasmine shrub, I've toppled over.

Something--and I'm not sure what--wheedled its way by my immune system and left me flat on my back for a couple of days, unable to keep anything down.

Augh.

I'll be kind and save you from reading a detailed diary of my biological functions, but suffice it to say, I am not amused with this constant nausea and ongoing tummy ache. And the fatigue. Extreme fatigue.

I doze on the couch, the PVR a babbling companion. I suppose under normal sickday circumstances this wouldn't be too bad...but this isn't normal sickday circumstances. On a normal sickday a machine filled with Julia Child, Jamie Oliver, Diary of A Foodie and other foodish shows would be small bit of joy in a snuffly world.

But when the mere thought of food makes one moan with disgust and trigger a deep breathing campaign to quell heaves, my normal escape become torture.

Augh, again.

All that said, I have learned that my gag reflex is a bit nonsensical and rather choosey as to what sets it off.

The following had me reaching for the remote:
  • A bowl of mushrooms
  • Watching Jacques Pepin remove braised endives from a pan
  • When that new Glee character (the one with the huge mouth) declared no one was more rock'n'roll than Justin Bieber

Yet the following had no impact on my queasiness:

  • Watching a sheep have its throat slit and its blood collected by a Navajo elder
  • A ship tossed on choppy seas
  • Stephen Fry helping scientists study sea lion poo
The Bieber thing I get. But mushrooms?

Needless to say, my tummy has been quite tricky as of late. For the first couple of days all I could really have was tea, ginger ale, rice and pudding.

Easy to make and easy to eat. I fully admit to going for instant pudding the first night: two minutes with a hand mixer and I had several "meals."

Once I was feeling better (but still not really up to eating anything too solid) I eschewed the packet mix and made my own pudding. It's simply a custard, with extra thickening power thanks to cornflour (cornstarch). It doesn't take that long to make, but unlike a packet mix, it does need about an hour to set in the fridge.


Vanilla Pudding
Yield: approx 250ml/1c

3Tbsp sugar
1.5Tbps cornflour (cornstarch)
a pinch of salt
250ml (1c) milk
1 egg yolk
0.5tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract
1tsp butter

Mix the sugar, cornstarch and salt and combine with milk. Scald the milk while whisking continually--the mixture will thicken quite a bit because of the cornstarch. Take off the heat and let cool for a couple of minutes.

Temper the yolk by slowly dribbling the slightly cooled milk mixture into yolk, whisking all the while. Slowing increase the milk's stream until all of it is mixed with the yolk.

Rinse and towel dry the pot you scalded the milk in and pour the custard in to the pot. Return to the hob and over lowish heat, whisk until the mixture boils. Mix in the butter and vanilla.

Seive out the scrambled eggy bits (if you wish) and pour into bowls (covered with pressed-down clingfilm, again, if you wish), and refrigerate until set.

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!






23 January 2011

Milk chocolate pecan toffee cookies

A couple of years ago I heard about Blue Monday.

No, not
the very fabulous song by New Order that hit the charts back in the day, but what feels to me like very suspect "research" to pinpoint when "we" are at our psychological low points.

Heh...I guess I was right to be suspect. When I did my own fleeting research, I found
this probably-soon-to-be-removed Wikipedia article, claiming it was part of SkyTravel's PR campaign three years ago.

Regardless, the past two weeks proved to be quite trying for a number of people in my real and virtual circles. Broken hearts, work-related stresses, multiple deaths and multiple hosptilisations (for those of you who wish to read the exbf's adventure in emerg,
click this. Remember, it's only funny because he's alive). There were days my heart ached when I checked my voicemail, email, replies, direct messages and message via my Twitter account.

I do what I can to help: do this and that to help ease their burden, offer an ear, shoulder or point of view, offer comfort food.


Comfort cookies, to be precise.

Everyone who bakes chocolate chip cookies has at least one recipe in hand. I probably have serveral dozen in my collection, but Anna Olson's chocolate chip cookies is one of the two I return to over and over again. In its original format it produces a reasonable number (24) of delicious, buttery, chewy cookies, which with a minor tweak can turn into a reasonable number (24) of delicious, buttery, crisp cookies.

When comfort and restoration are calle for, sometimes chocolate chips need a little additional help. Thankfully, chopped pecans and toffee bits stepped in to do their part to add extra butteryness and crunch to the chocolaty chewy cookies.

I'm not so egotistical to claim these cookies will make your life easier and solve all your problems. Simply, they just may make you feel better...and isn't that what a good cookie should do?


Chocolate Chip, Toffee and Pecan Cookies
Adapted from Anna Olson's Chocolate Chip Cookies in Sugar

Yield three dozen, depending upon the size of your cookie spoon


280g (2c) all purpose flour
1dspn (2tsp) corn starch
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
0.5tsp salt
170g (0.75c) softened butter
200g (1c) brown sugar
50g (0.25c) sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
135g (1c) milk chocolate chips or buttons
50g (0.5c) chopped pecans
40g (0.33c) toffee bits

Preheat oven to 350F/180C. Line cookie trays with parchment.

Sift together flour, cornstarch, bicarb and salt. Set aside.

Cream butter and sugars until smooth. Mix in vanilla and eggs. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Mix in the flour mixture in two batches. Scrape down the sides again, before folding in the chocolate, toffee and nuts.

Drop by tablespoonful onto the prepared cookie sheet, slightly pressing the tops. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until the edges are golden and the bottoms are slighly brown and easily lift from the tray.

Cool on the tray for a few minutes before removing them to a cooling rack.


cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!






17 October 2010

Hobble. Cough. Sniffle

If you've followed my Twitter feed for the past couple of weeks, you know that I've spent more time wrapped in cuddly blankets and an ankle propped on a pillow than causing the usual chaos and mayhem (not to mention hunger pangs for those all around me).

Yup. I've turned my ankle--not as badly as a few years ago, but bad enough that carrying out my usual kitchen business just isn't happening. For a brief second I thought about bringing back Cooking By Proxy, but the exbf (who was part of it last time) made it more than clear that he would not go through that again. Apparently in my hobbled state I am just as scary weilding Pokey the Walking Stick as I am weilding my favourite kitchen knife.

So I ate frozen leftovers and splashed out on enough Chinese food to feed the Red Army.

Things were going well enough until they weren't: scratchy throat, tightwire walking a fever, drippy nose, and a cough reminiscent the soundscape of San Francisco's Pier 39. Yup. I've caught the flu...or something.

My Dear Little Cardammumy's nurse's training has kicked in, plus her "my only baby is sick and needs to be better" instincts. Yes...a combination of scary and comforting.

So again, I'm not in the kitchen, save for boiling a kettle or preparing a few very easy things like tinned soup and a sandwich or two. Which means I have nothing foodish to really share with you other than something that's become a recent go-to meal, completed with a cup of tea:

A buttered, lightly toasted bagel with ribbons of paper-thin proscuitto tumbled atop each slice.

Easy delicious.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!





















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15 June 2010

Food to mend a bruised heart: Part Three: Maple-glazed peppered bacon

There's nothing like a good breakfast to start a new adventure.

Granted, I'm not trekking through deepest, darkest Peru in search of the spectacled bear (or any other of Paddington's relatives); I'm not off to Tanzania to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, and I've not applied to CSIS (but really, if they need an accusedly adorable short chick who can not only string words together well but bring in the occasional cupcake, tart or biscuit to share, all they need to do is call. Besides, can't you see me as a Miss Marple (à la Margaret Rutherford)-meets-Thursday Next-meets-Nora Charles (especially when she gives that look when people are being idiots and she can't say anything...like the look I give the exbf when he's half-way through a sentence) with a bit of Nero Wolfe thrown in for good measure? See...I'd be perfect there).

I write of the final stage of bruised heart-mending: getting over him and considering returning to those murky dating waters again.

And they are murky.

I peeked into the online dating site where I met Dear Soul.

Eeek.

About half the guys were there two years ago--including *gasp* the superficial and rude ones. Many of the newer ones don't post photos and the "in thing" seems to be leaving a blank profile. Glah. I've even perused some picture-free, information-free theoretically wannabe half-of-a couple candidates whose 100 words mostly comprise of "I'm good looking and fun. Looking for the same. No pic, no response--fair is fair" Umm. Yeah. Good luck with that.

I'm not quite ready to go back out there yet, but at least I can bring myself to thinking about possibly maybe finding someone...at some point...later.

But before I do that, a good breakfast is in order. Not one of those poncey fruit and yoghurt with wheat grass juice dealies. I'm talking of real breakfast. The type that sends farmers off to the fields. The type that makes oleophobes quake in their boots. The type that gets you going the morning after the night before.

You know it:

Maple glazed peppered bacon.

Eggs.

Pumpernickel toast with butter and marmelade.

Fried mushrooms.

Hash brown potatoes

Tea.

Heaven on a plate. Pure and simple. It's the breakfast I have before I explore the country or a metropolis. When I meet with foodbloggers, it's pretty darned close to my standard order when at my favourite Toronto brunch spot. It's my favourite breakfast on a lazy Sunday morning at home.

Maple-glazed peppered bacon is another of those non-recipe recipes I love so much. There's nothing to it--bacon, maple syrup, and freshly cracked black pepper--but when combined, the result is smokey, salty, sticky sweet and spikey...just enough to remind you that life is actually... good.


Maple-glazed peppered bacon

Rashers of streaky bacon
Maple syrup
Freshly cracked black pepper

Preheat oven to 160C/325F. Line a baking tray with foil--if you have a cooling rack that fits the tray, set it on top of the lined tray, if not, don't worry about it.

Brush the rashers with maple syrup. Sprinkle with pepper.

Lay the rashers on the rack (or on the foil) and pop into the oven. Bake until done. How long will that be? It depends on a number of things: the bacon's thickness, how much fat there is, the state of your oven. It can take 15 minutes or longer...just keep an eye on them...the time between cooked and charred isn't really that much.

Related Posts:
Food to mend a bruised heart part one: Poutine
Food to mend a bruised heart part two: Choco-fudge cake with peanut butter icing


cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!






















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29 May 2010

Food to mend a bruised heart: Part Two: Choco-fudge Cake with peanut butter icing

I can't eat chocolate when I'm truly and utterly upset. At my most heartbroken, the mere thought of anything that resembled chocolate or cocoa makes my stomach turn.

When Michael died it took more than a year before I could enjoy a little square of dark chocolate. When I started eating it again...in small, sporadic doses...I knew I was climbing out of my deepest trenches of grief.

With my more recent emotional bruising chocolate was again off the menu, substituted instead by fast food and poutine.

I suppose it makes sense. Chocolate contains phenylethylamine and anandamide--two whozzits that can mimic love's chemistry. Why would I want to go through the (e)motions of love when there was no one to love...or even be fond of.

After a couple of weeks it hit me like one of Lennox Lewis' right hooks: Chocolate cake NOW.

Well...I guess my bruising is fading.

Like many of us, I have dozens, if not hundreds of chocolate cake recipes, of varying pedigrees. This one is inextricably linked to Alton Brown's Chocolate Fudge cake is, quite honestly, the only one that will do to sweep away as much hurt as possible in bad times, and flood my being with happiness in better times.

The batter is quite thin--pancake batter thin--but don't let that worry you. If you decide to portion it out into cupcakes, the easiest way to fill the muffin bowls is by using a ladle. When baked, the crumb is tight, moist and midnight-like.

You can top it any way you choose. I topped one batch of cupcakes with vanilla icing and slathered peanut butter icing on another cake.

Really, I think peanut butter icing is the way to go.

I normally don't suggest particular brands in my recipes, but if you can get an organic product, that's the way to go. It's peanuttier and not nearly as sweet as the giant tubs adorned with characters and colours that appeal to six year olds.

Together, the cake and the icing is a salve for a bruised heart and is a sure sign that things are getting better.

Choco-fudge Cake
adapted from an Alton Brown recipe

Yield 1 9"x13" (20cm x 29cm) cake or 24 cupcakes

45g (9Tbsp) cocoa powder
315g (2.25c) ap flour
1dspn (2tsp) bicarbonate of soda
1tsp salt (only if using unsalted butter)
110g (0.5c) butter
45ml (3Tbsp) flavourless oil
385g (2.25c) brown sugar
1dspn (2tsp) vanilla
3 eggs

250ml (1c) buttermilk
250ml (1c) boiling water

Preheat oven to 180C/350F; line two 12-bowl muffin tin with papers or butter and sugar a rectangular cake tin.

Sift together cocoa, flour, bicarb and salt (if using).

Cream together the butter, oil and sugar. Mix in vanilla. Beat in eggs, one at a time.

Mix in the buttermilk and sifted dry ingredients in the usual alternating fashion (dry-wet-dry-wet-dry). Mix in the boiling water.

Dose out into the papered bowls or pour into the prepared cake tin.

Bake for about 25-35 minutes (for cupcakes) 40-45 minutes (for the larger cake) or until an inserted skewer comes out mostly clean-ish. A bit of sticky crumb is fine.

Allow to cool completely before icing.

Peanut Butter Icing
Yield: 1.5-2c


110g (0.5c) butter, softened
250g (1c) peanut butter (not the kind with a load of sugar, preferably)
45ml (3Tbsp) milk or cream, (more or less, as required)
190g (1.5c) icing sugar, or to taste

Cream together butter and peanut butter until light. Beat in sugar about a quarter-cup at a time. Add enough milk or cream to achieve desired constistency. Beat for at least five minutes before using.


Related posts:

Food to mend a bruised heart part one: Poutine
Food to mend a bruised heart part three: Maple-glazed peppered bacon

cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!
























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16 May 2010

Food to mend a bruised heart: Part One: Poutine

It doesn't matter if you're 16 or 36 or 56 a bruised heart is still a bruised heart. Those of you who know the story, know the story. For those of you who don't, all I'll say is that a cycle is complete, probably not to replay with the same cast. The full story is not yet known...and I suspect I'll never truly know...but hindsight offers interesting glimpses.

Like many, I choose to take my solace in food. Broken down into copious amounts of sugar, salt and fat (which some misguided souls believe to be unhealthy and even self-destructive), these three flavours bring comfort and relief.

The salty-strong craving was matched with hot and cheesey as well as beefy and mindless. Poutine satisfies.

For those of you in the dark, poutine is quite frankly one of the greatest foods on this planet.

French-Canadian in origin, it is at it's simplest a combination of french fries, and cheese curds made melty by bubbling hot gravy. While not quite ubiquitous, it's not that difficult to find as diners, chipwagons, roadhouses and well-known national fast food chains usually have their versions on offer. Even swanky restaurants gussy it up a bit with special cheeses, dusting their fries with spice mixes and slathering everything in unctious sauces.

My preference is to have medium to chunky chip-like fries, made with unpeeled potatoes and deep-fat fried until golden. Baked fries just don't have the same mouthfeel as proper chips, but will do in a pinch. Red wine-mushroom sauce (like the one I used for Julia Child's Oeufs à la Bourguignonne, and what I photographed) is gorgeous on hot fries and mild curds.

Variations could include spaghetti sauce and mozzerella, chili and cheddar, or adding bits of meat like roast chicken, bacon, sausage or ground beef. There are no real rules ... just as there are no real measurments (well, not according to me)...which makes it a non-recipe recipe.

Poutine
French fries
Cheese curds
Gravy (beef, chicken, whatever)
Heat the gravy as the fries are cooking until wisps of steam rise from the pot.
When the fries are done, spoon some gravy onto the plate. Pile the fries on top. Sprinkle with cheese curd and top with more hot gravy.

Related posts:
cheers!
jasmine




































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13 December 2009

Menu for Hope 6: Comfort and Restoration



Menu For Hope has reached out help to the world's needy since 2004. What started as a relief effort by
Pim of Chez Pim to help those affected by the devastating South East Asian Boxing Day Tsunami, has grown to an annual fundraiser, raising more than a US$250,000; in recent years the funds have been given towards the United Nations World Food Programme. These six years food and drinks bloggers worldwide have rallied together to provide prizes for the annual online raffle ranging from coffee with Thomas Keller to dinners at Michelin-starred restaurants to neighborhood food tours to boxes of cookies made by food bloggers.

In 2006 I was privileged to serve as the Canadian Prize Coordinator--my fellow Canadian foodbloggers generously provided a slew of amazing prizes. People all over the world responded eagerly, earmarking their ballots for prizes from the Great White North.

This year, when the lovely
Tara of Seven Spoons contacted me to donate a prize, was happy to help in whatever way I could.


My regular readers know that I christened 2009 as the Year of Comfort and Restoration. I've posted about foods that make me feel better--physically and emotionally. From the healing powers of Nanaimo Bars to Steak and Guinness Stew's clockwork appearance on my table every St. Patrick's Day, food is integral to my overall well being. With this in mind, I decided to tie my entry to this theme.

CA11: Comfort and Restoration
This package contains:
-1 new, lidded Paderno 33cm x 23cm/9"x13" non-stick oblong baking pan
- the dry ingredients needed to make one tray of Nick Malgieri's Supernatural Brownies
- 2 50g packets of tea from Distinctly Tea (Evening Fireside and Chocolate Supreme)

We've all had those days when all we want is a cosy little spot to relax and and regain our energies. I think this package would be a welcome treat if you want a little restorative comfort in your life.

The powers of a good brownie are known far and wide. I'll put together the dry ingredients for his chewy brownies along with the pan. all you need to do is add butter, eggs and vanilla (and of course heat). Depending on your day, it can be a single serving or you can cut it into 24 pieces--it's up to you. The full recipe and instructions will be provided.


Many people reach for a good cup of tea after a long day. Evening Fireside featuring notes of chamomile, mint and orange--perfect when you need a little bit of tender loving care. Chocolate Supreme contains real cacao bits, cinnamon, cardamom and a number of other spices and is utterly soothing when your nerves are frayed and your passions are a little too close to the surface. Both are caffeine-free, Rooibos teas.

Shipping: worldwide: There are no restrictions as to who can mark their ballot for this package as I will ship it to anywhere in the world.


You can find the rest of the Canadian prizes on Tara's site. To peruse the global list of prizes, please visit Pim's site.

To buy a ballot, here's what you should do...

1. Go to the donation page at (http://firstgiving.com/menuforhope6) to make a contribution.
2. Each US$10 donation will give you one raffle ticket toward a prize of your choice. Please specify which prize or prizes you'd like by entering the prize code in the 'Personal Message' section in the donation form when confirming your contribution. E.G: A US$50 donation may be two tickets for UW99 and three tickets for CA11.*
3. Some companies will match personal charitable donations made by staff. If your company has such a program, please remember to mark the appropriate box and fill in the information so we could claim the corporate match.
4. Please also check the box to allow us to see your email address. We need this so we can contact you in case you win a prize. If you do not do this, we will be unable to contact you. Please be assured that we will not share your email address with anyone.
5. Raffle results will be announced on 18 January on Chez Pim.


* N.B: Canadian tax laws prohibit charitable donation receipts to be issued by registered Canadian charities for raffle or lottery tickets. The UNWFP is a U.S.-based charity; should any donation receipts issued, you will need to seek professional advice regarding applying them to your Canadian income tax return.

cheers!
jasmine



I'm a quill for hire!



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22 November 2009

Comfort & Restoration: Peanut Butter Chocolate Brownies

Stress eating.
If stress eating were a military rank, I'd be the Commander-In-Chief.
If stress-eating were a popstar thing, I'd have a fragrance, cookware set and shoes baring my signature.
If stress eating were an Olympic sport (a real Olympic sport--not one of those namby-pamby ones where artistic merit marks are bought/sold), I'd be a platinum medallist.
Yeah. I'm *that* good.
Stressors come in all forms. Some of them are environmental like the street urchins' thumpathumpa music at 2:30am. Some of them are situational like the final throes of a relationship where you know you need out, but haven't admitted it. Some of them are imposed like the wall of lava-like deliverables and deadlines emitted from volcanoes of projects. Some of them are biological, caused by rampaging hormones of puberty, PMT, pregnancy or menopause. Some of them are accepted like knowing the lectures you're in for from well-meaning elderly relatives about how the the way you're living you're life is just plain wrong (but you put up with it because they are well-meaning elderly relatives).

Yes. I know some stressors are actually good for you, but really, if you're in the thick of it, stress is just...stressful.
I also know there are some who espouse exercise or meditation as means of dealing with the emotional nasties of life.
Meh.
There are few things that will keep me on a somewhat even keel when life overuns life. Long drives, preferably on the 401. Loud music--lately The Cult and QOTSA. A thorough toothbrush to the grout type of cleaning. Food.
My foodish comforts come in two categories. The first are the foods whose processes lean towards stress release. Kneading bread doughs and tenderising meat with a mallet offer an obvious outlet through pushing and pulling, smacking and pounding.
The second are the foods I gravitate to for sheer physical comfort. Sweet hot milky tea. Steaks with a trickle of blood. Greasy cheeseburgers with rashers of bacon. Poutine, weighed by thick, salty gravy and gooey-from-the-heat cheese curds. Chocolate so dark the cocoa content is in the high 80s and 90s.
Sweet, fatty, salty and deeply flavoured.
Sounds like a gosh-darned good brownie to me.
Normally I'd go for a chocolate brownie, perhaps flavoured with mint or espresso, but I've not fully regained a reliable chocolate tooth. Right now, for me to enjoy it, my chocolate needs a bit of a crutch, and lately that crutch of choice is peanut butter.
I've never had luck baking with peanut butter--the cakes always come out very dry. My Google-fu turned up this well-rated peanut butter brownie recipe, which is the peanut butter component of this swirly brownie. The chocolate component is a combination of a few recipes, but with a bit of chilli pepper in for a bit of interest. Chocolate, peanuts and chillies...lovely stuff.

Peanut Butter Chocolate Brownies
Peanut Butter Batter
140g ap flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
110g peanut butter, softened
75g butter, softened
125g sugar
85g brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Chocolate batter
110g butter
55g Dutch processed cocoa powder
100g sugar
85g brown sugar
1/4tsp salt
1/4 - 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper (optional)
2 eggs
1/2 tsp vanilla
100g flour

Butter a 23cm x 33cm (9"x13") baking dish. Preheat oven to 170C (350F).

Prepare the peanut butter batter by sifting together the flour, baking powder and salt.
Cream together the butter and peanut butter. Add the sugars and continue creaming until light and fluffy.
Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping down between each addition. Mix in the vanilla.
Blend in the flour mixture in two batches and incorporate well. Set aside.

For the chocolate batter, brown the butter until it has a nutty fragrance. Stir in the cocoa, sugars, salt and pepper. Stir until smooth. Turn off the heat and remove the pot from the hob.
Beat the eggs and vanilla until foamy. Temper the eggs by beating in a couple of spoons of the hot cocoa mixture. Incorporate the flour mixture and the rest of the cocoa mixture in alternate additions (dry-wet-dry-wet-dry).

Dollop in the batters in a checkerboard pattern in the buttered dish and marble them together.
Bake for 35-45 minutes, or until dense crumbs cling to an inserted skewer. Let cool thoroughly in pan before turning it out to cut into as many pieces as you see fit.

cheers!
jasmine


I'm a quill for hire!


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03 November 2009

Comfort and Restoration: Chicken Broth

School's back in, the weather's turned cold and sniffles are everywhere. Add the current H1N1 meme to the mix and people are queued for injections, emptying shop shelves of antibacterial everything and screens of e-mails proffering "helpful hints" as to how to spot and avoid the 'flu, including giving up hugging and handshaking in hopes of "staying healthy." (Bah to that I say. Bah)

Watercooler talk has turned from the latest political discussions on pensions, media ownership and why Canadians didn't show up to greet Charles and Camilla to whether or not we'll be jabbed, whose child has been bedridden and what our individual bits of preventative and/or curative voodoo we each practise.

Regardless, when illness hits--whether it's a cold or a flu--many people turn to the revered chicken soup to, at the very least, make one feel all warm inside. Granted, some people grab a tin off the shelf and simply heat what marketers, bean counters and dieticians have dictated. Others zhuzh it up with bits of this and that. Others make it from scratch.

Me, I'll waver. If I happen to have any homemade stock in the freezer, I'll use that as my soup base, otherwise I'll doctor up store-bought.

Even though homemade soups are, I think, non-recipe recipes, mine generally start off the same way: chopped onions, sweated to translucency, garlic and then when it perfumes, add liquid, veggies, whatever meats, spices and herbs and then simmered until ready. That's what I call a "normal" soup.

Unsurprisingly, my curative broths contain a mélange of various peppers, seeds, herbs and roots. Little doubt remains of the South Indian under-, mid-, and over-tones in each spoonful. Veggies are whatever I have on hand, same for starches (noodles or rice), meat is (really) optional...but poaching a chicken breast or thigh in cartoned broth to give the illusion of a home made soup isn't unheard of.

Every once in a while, when I've collected enough chicken bits--wing tips, bones, bits of carcass--in my freezer, I'll start a stock.

No. I don't pretend to be some domestic goddess clad in a gingham dress feigning some ill-placed sense of moral superiority.

Stockmaking: It's easy. It basically looks after itself. It tastes better than what's found in tins or cartons. It's time consuming. It's cheap.

Stocks are also non-recipe recipes too. Put veggies, animal bits, and basic spices in a pot and more than cover it all with cold water. Heat, scum, heat some more, scum some more. Let it simmer until the veggies and bones have had all their innate goodnesses extracted...or as much as you want extracted. Strain, if desired. Use what you need within a few days; freeze the rest.

The recipe below is essentially the above, but quantified to a certain extent. I must admit to being sheepish about finished quantities, because of the variables of the amount of cold water you start off with and how long you let it boil (and, as a result, evaporate). Regardless, it's a worthwhile exercise, on a cool autumn night, before flu season sets in.

Golden Chicken Broth
yields 3 or more L of finished broth

1.2kg chicken, washed and jointed
2 medium cooking onions, skin on, quartered
3-5 garlic cloves, halved
1-2 carrots, cut into big chunks
1 celery rib, cut into big chunks
1 leek, cut into big chunks
2 sprigs parsley
1.5 tsp black peppercorns, crushed
salt

Place all ingredients in a stockpot or a Dutch oven and cover with 4-6 litres of cold water, depending upon the volume capacity of your pot. Set the hob to medium-low.

After about 30-45 minutes, a layer of scummy foam will set itself on top of the water. Remove and discard as much of it as possible, while trying to keep as much of the schmaltz in the pot. Increase the heat to medium and continue removing scum every 30 minutes, until there's no more to be scummed.

Let boil, uncovered, occasionally and lazily stirring whenever the mood strikes. From time to time slurp some from your tasting spoon checking not only for salt, but also for desired depth of flavour. By my books, the stock is done when all the veggies yield to the slightest pressure of tongs, a spoon or fork. The total cooking time could be anywhere from four to six hours, depending upon your kitchen gods and how deeply flavoured you like your stock.

When done, remove the chicken herbs and veggies from the pot. If desired, strain through cheesecloth to clarify the broth.

cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!




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27 September 2009

Elvis has left the building: Meet my nemesis

Meet my nemesis: Tamias minimus.

Yes. You read correctly. Nemesis.

Many of us have one. Heck. Some of us have more than one.

It could be the guy who always gets the last double chocolate doughnut with the sparkly sprinkles on the rack leaving you with the stale unglazed-because-they-forgot-to-ice-them generic-things-that-could-be-better-used-as-hemorrhoids-cushions doughnuts; the woman who, regardless of which store she's in, can always get an eager and helpful sales clerk, while you've an armload of items to try on and the clerk guarding the changerooms is too busy texting her friend to bother unlocking a door for you, or the gal who can always get the cutest pair of shoes in her size, at 60 per cent off regular price because her feet are just so dainty. (Umm...yeah--I'm the one who usually gets the last good doughnut, sales clerks (and waiters) fawn over me and umm...I have teeny feet).

I hear you cooing over the cute, fuzzy wittle woodland cweature above. "How could such an adorable little thing be a nemisis?" you ask.

Trust me. They're only cute and fuzzy when they're in a woodland setting. They are NOT cute and fuzzy when they're running through and hiding in your main floor. When they are running through and hiding in your main floor, they are what I call "vermin."


And while I've not had dealings with this particular chipmunk before, I've lived the main points of this tale before. We have a history.

I had a rotten morning, punctuated by miscommunications and my jumping to conclusions; by noon I was hoping for a do-over. Since I don't have a TARDIS, my next best option was to ponder my stupidity by planting some lovely violet and plum coloured icicle pansies and assess the bunny damage to my plants. The front doors were wide open, so I could traipse in and out as my little bewildered heart pleased.

That's when the little begger decided to stage a home invasion.

Sure...strike when I'm down. I expect that from my enemies.

Admittedly, I didn't notice anything was wrong at first. I cleaned up from playing in the mud continued my contemplative therapies, this time armed with bucket, broom and mild abrasives.

And that's when I saw him...standing all cock-of-the-walk-like on my credenza. Sure he could have been mistaken for a stuffed animal (my little stuffed
Cthulhu does live in the dining room), but really given my B&E history with others of his ilk, I have no desire to keep reminders around.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

It scampered into hiding, behind the stack of cookery books I have yet to review.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

There's poo and pee all over the credenza. There's poo and pee all over a shelf I've set up for food photography. A teak shelf. A teak shelf that's now chipmunk pee stained.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

I clean it up and go into the kitchen. There's poo in several places...including the cat's water dish and my aprons' tails.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

Darn you, you little cute furry little woodland creature who's out of his element!

I summoned the cats.

The cats did not come.

I went to look for the cats.

Hagia was on in the TV temple, snoozing on the couch. She opened her big pumpkin eyes.

"Hagia. Time to earn your keep. Go stalk and eat the chipmunk."

She closed her big pumpkin eyes and went back to sleep.

Zeus was in the carton behind the fireplace, willing himself to be invisible...or so I think...I couldn't see him.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

After almost three hours, camped out in the dark, eyes trained on the open kitchen door, ironically quiet as a mouse (well, not so quiet--I was occasionally updating
my Twitter feed about this), the chipmunk exited my condo.

Yes, after a few false starts, Elvis has left the building...

...but not before helping himself to the cats' food and water. The door was closed after him.

YAY

I went into the dining room to take a look at whatever damage the critter caused.

I might as well have not cleaned up the dining room after lunch. I'd heard little animals void their bowels while running, to make them lighter, ergo, faster. Apparently chipmunks are poo-propelled as its output rivalled that of a bull moose.

I even found poo in the bowls of my mini muffin tin.

Insert monosyllabic expletive *here.*

A few hours later, my fingers wrinkled from rinse water and the air pungent with bleach and other cleaners, and every surface Elvis obviously touched, ran over or simply looked at was scrubbed within an inch of their anthropomorphic lives, I was in need of a bit of sweet solace.

I've been preoccupied with chocolate chip cookies as of late. It's very much unlike me--to crave chocolate chip cookies, that is. Growing up, My Dear Little Cardamummy baked the occasional batch, but returning to a cookie-perfumed house was not the norm.

My little kitchen must have churned a score or two of chocolate-studded biscuits since the end of August. The main problem being I've misplaced the slip of paper that holds my favourite chocochip cookie recipe. I've tried several recipes and while I've not replicated the *one,* This version by Alton Brown is a step in the right direction.

Unlike most other cookie recipes where you start by creaming butter, sugar and eggs and then add the dry ingredients, this one is put together as you would muffins: sift the dry ingredients together, then mix the wet ingredients, tip the wet into dry, give it a stir and drop onto the prepared sheet.


The number of cookies you get are entirely dependent upon the generosity of your cookie spoon. I used my 1.5 tsp sized spoon and could get about five dozen cookies.

The result are lovely chewy-crisp flat cookies, perfect with a cup of coffee.

Even more perfect after yet another run in with your nemesis.

Chocolate Chip Cookie No. 10
from
I'm Just Here for More Food by Alton Brown (opens into my Amazon.ca shop)

150g ap flour
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
150g sugar
145g brown sugar
225g salted butter, melted
2 eggs
1tsp vanilla
300g chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 180C/375F; line baking sheets with parchment.

Sift dry ingredients together.

Mix wet ingredients together; Tip into dry and stir until combined. Fold chocolate chips into batter.

Drop by spoonful onto prepared baking sheet, leaving about 2.5 cm between each blob. Bake for 6-9 minutes or until golden brown.


cheers!
jasmine

Chipmunk photo credit:
Douglas Haase, via Flickr.

I'm a quill for hire!

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19 July 2009

On My Rickety Shelves: Seasonal Food

Thanks to the lovely people at Random House Canada, a copy of this month's selection appeared on my doorstep.

Seasonal Food: A Guide to What's in Season When and Why
By Paul Waddington
Eden Project Books/Random House Canada
256 pages; $21.95

The ongoing dirge that announces and mourns (the inaccurately collective) "our" lost memory for food has been playing for a while, its needle skipping every so often, occasionally doing a whole dustbunny sweep across the album of (again, the inaccurately collective) "our" psyche.

As big business jumps on board to brand themselves as socially-responsible, with their earnest yet sparkly social media marketing-driven communications plans and advertising budgets, I find myself numbed to the hyperbole, distrusting every corporate-shined message I encounter. Don't get me wrong, food is incredibly important and I think we should be interested in what we eat, but like any message constantly broadcast, I become immune and disinterested.

Much has been written and broadcast contrasting what used to appear on tables, with what appears now, along with the various feel-good, blame-absolving movements that result. Some border on the cult-like: locovorism/100-mile dietism and organics; others seem like roleplaying: pulling out your front flower bed for carrots and cabbages, and home preserving.

But when you distill these, the concept of "seasonal eating" rings true. Essentially globalisation and advances in botanical and agricultural sciences have blurred seasons, making pretty much any food available at any time. If you've never gardened or been in contact with the natural food cycle, it could be confusing. Paul Waddington's Seasonal Food hopes to eliminate this barrier and help people think more about eating what's currently in season.

Waddington's style makes the book a pleasurable read. His introduction leads the reader through a quick history of food industrialisation and the basics of globalisation but also the importance of the Earth's natural cycle on plants and (as a result) animals. Probably my favourite section in the preamble is "The Seasonal Pig" and documents the once-important porker, fattened for an autumnal slaughter to its current fate as omni-seasonal, factorized fare.

Most of the book lists seasonally-available foods, organised by month. Descriptions are conversational and cover features like flavour, growing conditions and how to enjoy these ingredients. With some foods, such as leeks, pumpkins and Jerusalem artichokes, he provides simple and workable recipes. I've not cooked any to his suggestions, but in perusing them, I could tell they were easy and would work well.

What I particularly like is his inclusion of meats in his seasonal eating lists. To be honest, I've not put much thought into seasonal meats, and when I do it's primarly spring lamb and autumn and winter turkeys.

There is one caveat I feel I must make, simply because I suspect it will throw some people off. This book was created for the British marketplace. As such there are terms or foods referred to such as rocket, medlars and aubergines which some readers may take issue with. Also because it is British-focussed, what grows in their seasons may not map correctly onto what grows in the non-British reader's seasons.

Regardless of where you call home, this is a good reference book to have on hand when faced with ingredients and why something may not taste as good now, as it did when it was actually in season four months ago.


cheers!
jasmine

I'm a quill for hire!




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12 July 2009

Comfort and Restoration: Sadness and Loss

At a time when Walk Like an Egyptian (The Bangles), I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Whitney Houston), and I Think We’re Alone Now (Tiffany) dominated pap-ladened Top 40 radio, CFNY played Strangelove (Depeche Mode), Girlfriend in a Coma (The Smiths), and Just Like Heaven (The Cure).

Back in the day they embodied The Spirit of Radio: music that pushed boundaries; they were alternative when the term actually meant something…long before marketing departments and hired gun PR firms made alternative as commonplace as painted lines on asphalt and as exciting as a tub of wallpaper paste.

This week The Spirit of Radio lost a dear friend and vehement crusader.

Martin Streek, a long-time DJ at the station died this week. It was sudden. It was unexpected. I, along with a number of fans, feel a friend and familiar companion is lost.

I never met him: he wouldn’t know me from Eve; I didn’t even know what he looked like until this week. But he was a constant in my life for more than 10 years.

Back when I commuted to Toronto, he was a welcome companion on my many long hours home. He hosted a few different shows, but I can still hear his baritone over the crowds as he broadcast from The Kingdom and other clubs on Live to Air.

His passion and understanding of new music was phenomenal. He was charming, a dry wit, smart and genuine—you can’t fake passion or knowledge. He promoted independent acts when he could and introduced us to so many new and fabulous artists. By doing so, he influenced countless listeners’ music preferences, something that will carry on for the rest of our days.

I haven’t listened to him in nearly eight years, but I will add my voice to the chorus of those who feel his loss, and who thank him, for everything.

I fully admit that his passing is magnified by the simple fact that this month marks two years since
My Darling One died. Memories of those days before and after flood my mind with increasing frequency, and will for the next few weeks. If there’s ever a time one needs comfort and restoration, coping with the loss of a dearest is one of those times.

I couldn’t cook for myself—I’d lost my ability to pull together the simplest of meals...I couldn’t even make myself a cup of tea. Meals magically appeared, courtesy of my Dear Little Cardamummy. Friends took me out for lunch or coffee. My dear, sweet colleagues left parcels of sweets and pastries at my desk, often anonymously. Everything was appreciated, deeply.

The foods I wanted generally fell within the "easy and uninvolved" category. As long as I could dish it out, I was fine. If I had to fiddle with several pots or cooking techniques (or, really anything beyond microwaving), it wasn't going to be good.


When I did look for something to eat, I wanted three tastes: salty, sweet and buttery/fatty. I suppose it makes sense, as stress leads many of us to crave such foods. Cups of sweet tea, buttered breads, salty soups and buttery mashed potatoes were what I gravitated towards. Not everyone responds in this way. Some people can't stop eating and others don't want anything at all.

At a time when eating was something I wasn't looking foreward to, it was something I knew I had to do. As horrible as it may sound: Life goes on, and for my life to go on, I had to eat.

There’s no prescription of foods for the bereaved. It’s an individual choice, based on preferences and culture, so I cannot pretend to formulate a survivors’ menu. All I can say is feed them, preferably foods that can be reheated several times without losing too much (casseroles, lasagnes, meatloaves). Your kindness will be appreciated more than you will ever know.

So no. No recipe today. Not even a picture of food for you.


Instead, I’m leaving you with a music video, in memory of Martin. He was a fan of some great bands: NIN, Tool, The Clash...but I found myself listening to Depeche Mode today, and this one seems appropriate:



There are a number of articles and posts and a memorial Facebook site dedicated to Martin and his passing. I've found posts written by three of his colleagues from his days at CFNY/The Edge, for those of you who remember, or would like to know more...


Alan Cross: Martin Streek: This Charming Man
Kneale Mann: Thoughts about Martin Streek
Carlos Benevides: R.I.P. Martin Streek



RIP, Martin

jasmine

18 July 09 Update: 102.1 The Edge (CFNY rebranded) will air a tribute to Martin tomorrow, 19 July 09 from 5pm - 8pm ET. Details.




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17 June 2009

Comfort and Restoration: Pizza

Every once in a while it's good to do the same-old same-old a little differently. Whether it's trying a redder or browner hair colour, re-arranging the sitting room furniture or simply switching to decaf for your fourth daily cup, sometimes the slightest change can be just what the doctor ordered.

Sundays are pizza days in cold weather months. I hide indoors from the snow and wind and make the kitchen a bit warmer, at Beelzebub's permission.

Usually I vary the toppings. Sometimes it's roasted veg, others bacon and mushrooms, sometimes it's a pesto with shrimp. White or whole wheat, thick crust or thin, I just play with whatever's on hand.

Now the weather is decidedly warmer and the final frosty night of the season has passed, it will soon get too warm to continue this ritual. I will miss it. The dough is home-made--beery head of yeasty water tipped, with a raw egg into a slightly salted flour and kneaded and pummelled into submission. I've always believed that breadmaking is better than a therapy session...not only do you get to work out your frustrations, but you end up with something you can eat. What more does one want?

The season's final, official, pizza was inspired by a couple of things. Gale Gand's Torta Rustica was far too fussy to make, butthe idea of baking a pie in a cake tin still appealed. The other was Chicago-style deep dish pizza. I had some while at Blog Her '07 and since then have indulged in that partituar style via store-bought frozen pies.

Same dough recipe, same ingredients...just put togehter slightly differently. I rolled the dough quite thin and lined an oiled springfom pan with it. Next were the toppings--in this case pepperoni, mushrooms and onions, then a layer of cheese sandwiched between thin layers of stewed tomatoes. Top with drizzled olive oil, rubbed basil and black pepper before baking in a 375F/190C oven until done...

Yes, I know "until done" doesn't help the novice cook but it depends upon the depth of pan, the and the thickness of toppings.

Pizza Dough
100ml hand-hot water mixed with 0.5 tsp sugar
0.5 Tbsp traditional yeast
225g bread flour
1tsp
salt
1 egg
oil

Bloom the yeast in the sugar water for 15 minutes, or until a frothy head appears. Mix into flours and salt. Add the egg and knead, adding more water or flour as needed. When the dough is nice and soft (like the proverbial baby's tushie), transfer the dough to an oiled bowl, cover with a damp tea towel and let sit an a warm, draft-free space until doubled in size--a couple of hours or so. After rising, punch it down and knead for about five or ten minutes and let rest for a couple of minutes. Roll out as desired.


cheers!
jasmine

What I'm reading:
Great Canadian Plant Guide
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