Knot Theory + Math = Chocolate Toffee Cookies

July 12th, 2010 § 0

This Knot Theory tie might appear to be a union of two black and white strips, dancing to the rhythms of your work suit, waxing poetic about the daily tasks we all perform — tasks we sometimes complete with mind-less attribution.

It is anything but.

And those of us familiar with Harold Crick and his single Windsor knot instead of the double (saving up to forty-three seconds every day despite his wristwatch’s thoughts that the single Windsor made his neck look fat) might think that this tie would make it to the top of men’s fashion accessories. But then those of us also know that when “we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies” or in my case I would say, chocolate toffee cookies!

To me, Knot Theory designs are like toffee: standing out without shouting out. Well, that is until the first bite when you notice the perfect combination of chewy-ness and crunch with butter, chocolate, and roasted nuts. And did I say butter?

Yes, although this medley might look like any other classic chocolate cookie, it surprises with its saltiness and well, it has toffee! So I wear my necktie and start roasting some pecans. Smitten Kitchen uses walnuts but I really like pecans and have so much of them that I decided it would be a nice substitution.

Ingredients

1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 pound bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, chopped
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
1 3/4 cups (packed) brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
5 1.4-ounce chocolate-covered English toffee bars, coarsely chopped
1 cup pecans, toasted, chopped
Flaky salt for sprinkling (optional — but this cookie is so chocolate-y that I find the salt to make that cookie that much more enjoyable)

Luckily I had some Cocoa Nymph English toffee which I thought would be perfect for this cookie.

To make cookies: combine flour, baking powder and salt in small bowl. Stir chocolate and butter in top of double boiler set over simmering water until melted and smooth. Remove from over water. Cool mixture to lukewarm.

Using electric mixer, beat sugar and eggs in bowl until thick, about 5 minutes. Beat in chocolate mixture and vanilla. Did I say that after the move to Toronto a Kitchen Aid mixer is what I bought first, before a bed? In fact I got a mixer with the money I had set aside for a bed. Moments like today, when I can make a chocolate toffee cookie, are precisely why the right choice was made over a bed.

Anyways, stir in flour mixture, then toffee and nuts. Chill batter until firm, about 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment or waxed paper. Drop batter by spoonfuls onto sheets, spacing two inches apart. Sprinkle with a pinch of flaky sea salt, if you’re using it. Bake just until tops are dry and cracked but cookies are still soft to touch, about 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on sheets. (Can be made 2 days ahead. Store airtight at room temperature.)

So when routine  and constancy strike next, wear your tie paired with a brightly coloured shirt and eat some chocolate toffee cookies. All will become out of the ordinary. All will be good.

P.S. Numbers in this photo appear backwards because clearly I have no photo taking skills.

Stand by Your Rice

July 10th, 2010 § 1

As the narrative of The Secret Daughter jumped between multiple characters, continents, and foods (from mashed potatoes to masala roti), I jumped from thoughts of Indian food to ice cream — well, it’s been very hot here in Toronto — and lastly to thoughts of Iran.

You might think that I would say I thought of Iran because The Secret Daughter is a book about identity, where India is almost one of the main characters having so much of the story devoted to it. And that it’s a book about home countries. About tradition. About family.

Sadly, my thoughts were not attributed to the Secret Daughter because while Gowda attempted to tell an emotional story, the connection just simply wasn’t there.

No. I thought of Iran because on my way to an ice cream shop the other day, I came across sour cherries!

Photo Credit: Flickr: MGF/Lady Disdain

I hadn’t eaten sour cherries for over fifteen years and suddenly could taste albaloo polo (sour cherry rice) in my mouth and knew what was going to be made for dinner. Many would have albaloo polo with chicken and so would Rosa Montazemi, the ultimate Iranian cook whose book called Honar-e-Ashpazi (The Art of Cooking) is in every household. And this is not hyperbole. Really. Every family has a copy.

In my family though we had albaloo polo with mini meatballs. I searched and searched and couldn’t find a recipe for these meatballs in my Montazemi Art of Cooking book. So here it goes, albaloo polo broken up into three sections:

Mimi Meatballs
(recipe adopted from the small meatballs Turmeric and Saffron prepared for a pomegranate stew)

1 pound ground meat (beef or lamb)
1 teaspoon salf
1 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 large onion

In a mixing bowl combine the ground meat, salt, pepper, and turmeric until mixed thoroughly. I guess you could use a large spoon to combine the ingredients together, but I just remember how my mom used to do it and it was with her hands. So I also used my hands to work the salt/pepper/turmeric combo into the meat.

Make small-sized meatballs (maybe just slightly bigger than a cherry in size) and set aside.

In a large frying pan, heat some vegetable oil (I use 1 tablespoon of grapeseed oil because I’m trying to be good with my fats, or at least I have the illusion of being good with my fats) and saute the onion until golden brown. Add meatballs; stir until all sides of the meatball are brown.

Sour Cherries
(modified from The Art of Cooking by Rosa Montazemi)

Ms. Montazemi recommends that we pit our sour cherries and prepare an almost jam-like cherry syrup the night before we are going to make our sour cherry rice. This will really help the flavours set and the cherries to solidify themselves.

2 kg of sour cherries, pitted
1/5 kg of sugar

I modified this slightly and used 5 cups of cherries and 1 cup of sugar. She says to pour sugar on top of the cherries in a pot over medium heat until the resuting syrup starts to boil (approximately 20 minutes). Remove from heat and cool. Once completely cool, refregirate overnight.

We would keep the syrup and pour over the meatballs.

The Rice

I think that in Iranian cuisine your skills as a esteemed chef are dependent on your rice cooking skills. The individuality and length of rice grains can really make or break any dish, no matter how tasty the concoction may be. So I highly recommend that you make rice with a grain that you have tried before and know won’t be sticky or too starchy.

Photo Credit: Flickr: Emily Barney

Wash 4 cups of rice several times until cold water. Ideally, if you were to pour water on top of your rice, you’d want the water to appear relatively clear.

Pour rice with water (until water almost fills up the pot) in a large pot and bring water to a boil. It is very important to not let the rice cook too much at this stage. I always stand right next to the pot as the water is coming to a boil and steal little rice grains from the pot, trying the rice, and removing pot from heat when the rice grains can be chewed but are still a bit crunchy.

Remove water through a strainer. Return pot back to the stove top, reducing heat to low, adding some oil, and pouring layers of rice and sour cherries (just the cherries, no syrup) into the pot. Cover and cook for 30 minutes.

While I was waiting for the rice to cook I went in search of some Iranian music — specifically the music that I used to listen to when I was in my early teens. Andy, known as the “king of pop” in Iran, used to be one of my favourites, but wanting to spare you the long hair and flashy videos of the time, I thought to instead post this video. If you still really want to see some crazy long hair action, pirate shirts on stage, and soft-lens overboard, click here.

Oh, and then there were The Black Cats. Really, what was I thinking?

But anyways, Andy sings Stand by Me with Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora in the video you see below. The song starts with them both singing in Farsi and ends in English, a musical message of worldwide solidarity with the people of Iran.

To serve mix sour cherry rice with meatballs. Montazemi also suggests sprinkling some crushed pistachios on top of your rice mixture and well, of course, don’t forget to add some saffron too.

I must admit the Farsi portion of the song has gotten me all emotional and nostalgic, and I’m thinking that more Iranian recipes will be posted on this blog going forward. For now, I will think back to sour cherries and stand by my rice!

From Indian Food to Chewy Granola

July 4th, 2010 § 2

As I was reading the opposing narratives of Secret Daughter, one of a North American woman, Somer, and her infertility struggles, and the other of a poverty-stricken family, the Merchant’s,  in rural India, I found myself thinking of Indian food. And only Indian food.

First-time author Shilpi Somaya Gowda continued to encourage my thoughts of various chutneys, inconspicuous spices, and roti with her vivid descriptions of Indian food, its preparation, its devourment, and its contrast to the bland mashed potatos that Somer’s Indian husband was tasked with making for the holidays. As he continued to dash tobasco sauce onto everything on his plate, I continued feeling a lack of connection with the characters in the book — but I guess its hard to form connections with every character in every book you read like the one I have with Mary Boulton, a character that still has me in quest for the best rabbit stew out there.

Despite the thin character development and the unsophisticated writing of the Secret Daughter I did enjoy the way she described families in this book really enjoying their food — taking pleasure in the simplest of combinations. The Merchant’s often had to eat the same dish night after night, but still it was a point of pride that she could muster up the same dish every night without them getting tired of it. At last I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to find my copy of Vikram Vij’s Elegant and Inspired Indian Cuisine and start making some Indian food!

It wasn’t much later when it dawned on me that since the move to Toronto my spice rack is a little bit empty and I don’t have the ingredients I need to attempt any of these recipes. So I sat there unsatisfied with the Secret Daughter and unsatisfied with my craving for Indian food.

Luckily a friend invited me to Lahore Tikka House where I had kabobs and tandoori naan (which made me nostalgic for the naan’s I would eat right after they came out of the tandoor in Iran, but that’s a story for another post). Vij’s Lamb Popsicles continued to haunt me.

Turning to comfort until I can go to an Indian grocery store or forget about the Lamb Popsicles (which I don’t think is going to happen), I decided to make some granola! Since it’s become my favourite breakfast I’m going through my jar of granola very quickly. After attempting my first home-made granola a friend sent me a link to this chewy clumpy granola recipe and so tonight I decided to give this clump of comfort a try — with very minor modifications.

Ingredients

2 cups organic old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup shredded unsweetened coconut
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg (need I even say why I turned a pinch of nutmeg into a teaspoon?)
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon canola oil
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
2/3 cup coarsely chopped pecans
2/3 cup cranberries

Old-fashioned oats are so much better than quick oats, which are more processed and mushier in texture. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to quick oats. Anyways, to make the granola, preheat oven to 325 degrees F.

In a large bowl, toss oats with coconut, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk together the oil, honey, and brown sugar until blended. Pour the wet mixture in with the dry, using your hands to combine the two until everything is well coated.

Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper and pour the mixture over top. Spread it out evenly. Kickpleat does a great job throughout her recipe in reminding us to not break up the mixture too much (clumping is a good thing after all!). And so I am going to do the same here.

Bake for 10 minutes and then use a spatula to gently flip the granola over. Sprinkle with pecans, and bake for another 10 minutes. Add cranberries and bake for another 5 minutes.

You must let the pan cool completely. Once it has, use your hands to break up the granola and remember: do not break up the clumps too much.

My apartment smells sweet and I know I will be dreaming of the granola that awaits me for breakfast (at least momentarily I shall forget my thoughts of Vij’s amazing recipes).

Lonely, Lonely Rhubarb

June 13th, 2010 § 2

And so sing the rhubarb sitting on my counter:

Maybe maybe they’ll stay true
My seeds will cross and then take root
And leave you to an empty room
Lonely lonely that is you

Okay! Okay! So I couldn’t ignore the rhubarb anymore and knew what had to be done. Strawberry rhubarb pie! And so I got chopping and thought about Smitten Kitchen‘s superstitions about pies. Maybe it is true that pies can smell fear; if you’re certain your pie will be a mess, maybe it will become a non-fluffy crust, water-filled pie. But what about the filling? Can the rhubarb rebel in defiance of being ignored for so long on my counter? Can the lonely rhubarb make this pie a mess?

Photo Credit: Flickr: Chopped Rhubarb by FotoosVanRobin

I continue chopping the rhubarb and hulling the strawberries — thinking good thoughts. No, the pie will turn out well. I try and remember to keep all crust making ingredients cold. Ice cold. Smitten Kitchen says that despite 1/4 cup of corn starch in the filling, that the pie still turned out watery. So I set aside the rhubarb and strawberry mixture with sugar and wait for the sugar to get as much of their juice out as possible. I can then drain and place the fruit and sugar concoction with the rest of the filling ingredients inside the crust.

Crust:
3 cups all purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup chilled solid vegetable shortening, cut into pieces
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into pieces
10 tablespoons (about) ice water

Filling:
3 1/2 cups 1/2-inch-thick slices trimmed rhubarb (1 1/2 pounds untrimmed)
1 16-ounce container strawberries, hulled, halved (about 3 1/2 cups)
1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt

1 large egg yolk beaten to blend with 1 teaspoon water (for glaze)

The oven is pre-heated, the pie dish is ready and in the oven, and now I wait. It’s a good thing that my hindsvik crates arrived last week and now I have an empty apartment with an assortment of wooden crates to use as shelving and a Louis Ghost Chair to sit on, contemplating the fate of this pie. I am excited about the unexpected turn decorating my apartment has taken. This mixture of modern and vintage furniture goes well with pies and unlikely ice cream flavours. And I got thinking: even if the rhubarb rebels, I won’t be left to an empty room. I’ll be surrounded by all the history these crates carry on them. The smell of wood. The non-perfect texture of these crates, telling stories of their travels across Canada. And the Ghost Chair? Well, that one can hardly be seen, but oh boy, it does make me think about spices like nutmeg and the warm, nutty feeling they bring to the dishes they are added to, even if they can’t be seen.

Photo Credit: Hindsvik.com

And so I sit on the Ghost Chair and admire how this strawberry rhubarb pie looks so beautifully red on my new crates. Yes, the pie turned out well! I guess the rhubarb forgave me after all.

01101111 01101011 01110010 01100001

June 8th, 2010 § 0

I was thinking about school today and how much my thoughts and perceptions have changed. A string of binary numbers used to imply staying up late with copious amounts of coffee flowing in my system, programming — typing and compiling code and sometimes screaming when faced with null pointer exceptions. Binary used to allude to all that is technical.

Today I thought about binary numbers and I thought okra! Oh, this charming vegetable that seems to have only two sets of followers: those who admire it and those who shiver just hearing the name okra whispered.

Photo Credit: Flickr: 189::365 okra by j.e.n.n.y

Naturally I knew what had to be done: I had to get some okra! I found some fresh ones at my local grocery store and chopped 1 pound of okra as similarly shown in the picture above.

Read about okra on-line and you’ll find information regarding okra’s slimy texture is abound. It is true that when in contact with water okra will become a bit slimy and sticky. But it also can be fried, in which case it can be crunchy!

So I cut the fresh okra, and fry it in hot oil with green onions. I would have used white onions but as we have already established, I’m in a quest to become Mary Boulton-like and so have been going to Farmers Markets. Needless to say, green onions have become regular tenants in my fridge.

At last these are the ingredients that I combined in my frying pan:

1 pound okra
3-4 green onions
1/4 teaspoon salt
freshly ground pepper (as much as you like)
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
1/4 cup frozen whole cranberries

Lately I’ve been enjoying cranberries in my concoctions. They add an extra zing of taste, but also look so brightly red and beautiful. While frying was being done, I also cut some pieces off my left-over steak from a couple of nights ago, and added everything together over a bed of orzo.

Suddenly the okra was in harmony with the rest of the dish and I was thinking: what else can I do with okra? But I’m going to be patient because the rhubarb that’s been sitting on my counter waiting to be put in a pie is now starting to give me dirty looks.

So I’m going to try and keep in mind that Rome wasn’t built in a day and that I will find non-slippy sharp-tasting recipes worthy of the charm of the okra in time.

Do you have any okra recipes to share with me?

Side note:

Also if you are a geek like me and want to know how you can convert words into binary code, maybe you’d like to check out this site?

http://www.theproblemsite.com/codes/binary.asp

And the dough folds and overlaps

June 7th, 2010 § 0

… and so do the lives of the two main characters in The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Renée Michel, a 54-year-old concierge in a Parisian luxury building, and Paloma Josse, a 12-year-old girl, the daughter of a bourgeois family in this same building.

Paloma has decided that life is meaningless.

She is making plans to commit suicide on her 13th birthday.

But before she dies, Paloma vows to write down profound thoughts in haiku-format and keeps a journal of the beauty of movement of the world — and while reading her journals, I  find my eyes glancing at the newly purchased Kitchen Aid Mixer that’s sitting on my counter! So I read and I glance and I think of the movement of the dough as it would turn in the mixer.

I will myself back to reading the book.

Renée the concierge, is also in search of meaning and love and beauty, but instead of plotting her own suicide she shuts life out. She closes the door of her loge and inside it hides her love of art, tea time temptations with homemade pastries, and philosophical books.

All this talk of beauty and the rhythm of things made me think of Lamb’s Gorecki, its beating of the drum contrasting and complementing the soft movement of the wool she traces. This song signifies Paloma and Renée’s quest for love — love in all that is around us. Or love in the flow of words, because a grammatically correct sentence that uses equilibrium in choosing its words is magnificent. Well, or so think the characters in this book (I hope they never read my blog for it chops away the rules of grammar like the pecans I just coarsely chopped!).

So Gorecki becomes the song I play on repeat as I continue reading.

As the lives of Renée and Paloma unfold and overlap, they each find completeness in their world at last. Renee has finally found the one she has waited for. Paloma might have found a reason to live for. And I got thinking: it’s when I can have dessert for breakfast that I find completeness. And isn’t the way granola becomes clumpy and chewy worthy of the journal of the movement of the world?

With pecans already chopped, I set to make homemade granola. More specifically I set to make Orangette’s Daily Granola, adapted from Nigella Lawson’s Feast. Exchanging sunflower and sesame seeds for shredded unsweetened coconut, I was excited about the prospects of the unsweetened apple sauce.

Dry ingredients
5 cups rolled oats
2 to 3 cups raw almonds or pecan halves, or a mixture
1/2 cup shredded unsweetened coconut
¾ cup light brown sugar
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. ground ginger
1 tsp. salt

Wet ingredients
¾ cup unsweetened apple sauce
1/3 cup brown rice syrup
¼ cup honey
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil, such as canola or safflower

I preheat the oven to 300°F, spread the mixture (dry and wet ones combined together) onto my prepared baking sheet and await the moment when all of a sudden this mixture turns a golden brown colour.

To make the granola more dessert like, I’m pairing it with some blackberries and creating a parfait.

Photo Credit: Flickr: all_taken's blackberries before

So granola is in a bowl. Blackberries topped with some sugar are in a bowl. Cream is awaiting the mixer!

I use the Joy of Baking recipe for parfait and as such beat 1/2 cup mascarpone cheese, 1/2 cup heavy cream, 3 tablespoons confectioners sugar, and 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract in the mixer until soft peaks form.

At last, this crunchy, clumpy, creamy, and fruity edifice is ready for its construction. So I layer the granola with parfait and berries, eat if for breakfast, and feel complete. 

Doing the Lemon Dance

April 19th, 2010 § 2

Cartoon Credit: Hungry Bunyip's Blog

I continue being kitchen-less and barren of home-baked goods. Posts have been pretty much non-existent as a result.

But kitchen-less status will be coming to an end in a couple of weeks. I’m no longer minus a home and yet plus many many pairs of shoes! This weekend, in addition to drinking the most amazing hot chocolate at Soma Chocolate, I also found an apartment. I just walked in and thought: this is the kind of apartment that matches my new orange Fluevogs. It was home.

So now I do the lemon dance and wait to move in so that the baking and the resulting posts can begin.

My Shoes Make Me Want Candy!

April 1st, 2010 § 4

It’s not everyday you buy a pair of shoes that make you think of nothing but candy! And I mean the retro sour balls in clear wrapping crunched into pigtails at each end kind of candy. If I wasn’t in a new town I would go to the Candy Aisle on Robson Street in Vancouver and surround myself with bright yellow, orange, green, and blue candy.

Sigh.

Alas, I’m in a new city and have no idea where the good candy stores are. Also, am kitchen-less and couldn’t even attempt to make candy. So I go crazy! I wear my shoes and try to think of other things. Like how I should have spent my afternoon looking for an apartment instead of buying shoes.  Or what I’m going to do in the winter with all the snow? Can I still wear these shoes then?

And someone please tell me where the good candy stores in Toronto are.

Photo Credit: John Fluevog Shoes

I may be apartment-less, candy-less, and maybe even a little mad from all the walking and thinking of candy, but am sure happy to have at last been united with my very first pair of Fluevog shoes!

Saying Goodbye to Sushi

March 30th, 2010 § 0

It’s been a long time since I have posted something here and before you say anything, no, it’s not because I’ve been knitting crazily.

Cartoon Credit: Hungry Bunyip's Blog

Although with many wintery days in Toronto, perhaps knitting would become a reason for not writing much. The real reason though, if you haven’t guessed it already, is that I have moved. I decided it was time for me to explore Toronto.

I’m excited about what this city will inspire me to eat. And will I miss my wild salmon sashimi? Maybe you know of some good sushi places in Toronto? For now I will continue exploring and write about new food inspirations. And if all else fails, I know I will always be able to write about knitting. Mayhap I will knit a lemon ball next.

Just Like How a Custard Forms

March 10th, 2010 § 0

Day 3 of Canada Reads debates ended with Coupland’s Generation X as the first casualty. The debates have been intense and so to calm my thoughts I decided to make some ice cream. Some nutmeg ice cream.

The thing I have enjoyed most about these debates can be explained through the making of the custard for my nutmeg ice cream. Have you ever noticed how you can stir and stir and stir your egg yolk, sugar, and milk combo until you can stir no more and without any advance notice all of a sudden it will get firm? I mean in a matter of seconds you start seeing a trail left behind your whisk in the custard. Your mixture will get firm and if you wait too long before recognizing this transformation it will be too late. The eggs will cook. And well… that’s just not cool.

Photo Credit: Flickr: Tom Higgins' Cooking Up The Custard to Make Ice Cream

I wanted the characters in Nikolski to continue their adventures. After finishing the book I was left yearning for more and in Day 1 of debates some of the panelists said that they found the book thin, confirming my thoughts. But just like when the custard forms, because it’s had some time to think, or because it’s had 10 minutes of constant stirring, or because all the elements finally mixed and mingled and declared the custard as ready, I started to see more in the book. In fact, I started re-reading the book.

Okay, truthfully, for me the transformation happened because I was so impressed by Michel Vezina’s defense of the book. Vezina talked of the complex interconnection of families that are split all across the world, about humanity, and about garbage. I started seeing things in the book that I hadn’t before.

As a participant in the Canada Reads Challenge my thoughts were:

Book to win: Good to a Fault
My favourite book: Fall on Your Knees

Now as I stir my ice cream mixture, I have no idea how the debate will go and which book will be left standing. But if it ends up being Nikolski I would be happy. I like the book more with each stir and just like my custard has thickened, this book is no longer thin.

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