I’m learning French because thoughts of happiness have consumed me lately and research says that we don’t get happiness from our jobs alone. So I’m learning French. Also, I want to be able to order food in French should I ever go to France. Also, I’m afraid of just getting by.
Happiness research says if you are not challenging yourself and learning to do new things at home, that satisfaction with your life will be elusive. I worry about this. And so that is why right now I have a blueberry pie in the oven with a recipe I have never tried before. And a recipe that I can’t share with you either, well, until the competition is over.
From past experience I knew a couple of tricks about making pie crust, and then Cooks Illustrated points Smitten Kitchen in the direction of vodka. And I knew what had to be done. Vodka will mostly evaporate in the oven, meaning that your crust gets the liquid it needs but much of it will not stay. Also, Vodka is by definition, colorless and odorless, so once it’s baked, you’ll never know that it was there to begin with.
And so I mix ingredients, and I roll out the dough, and I wait by the oven, watching my pie bubble.
Photo Credit: Flickr: Joana Hard
Why an empty pie crust here? Well, like I said you’ll have to come to the competition to find out what filling I used for this Vodka concoction.
In the meantime, I’m trying to figure out what my next baking project should be.
And sometimes when I’m baking I have the KitchenAid Mixer in a not accessible position so that I would have to lift it in order to use it. I will count that as exercise too.
Today: I am happy about having written this post.
Side note:
Also, if you’d like to go to the Wild Blueberry Festival this weekend, here are details:
Thursday night and everything is fine except that I made six Lemon Chiffon cakes, each one either cracking, or coming out of the oven not having cooked properly because of air pockets, or teasing me with a look that said, “Oh, I am golden brown and look like I’ve risen enough and all is good”, but in fact be dense and doughy inside.
Sigh.
Nothing airy, light, and summer-like about the cakes that I made. I should have known given the looks the egg whites were giving me that they would not be cooperating.
It turns out that there are three categories of foam cakes: those that contain fat (like the Chiffon cake which uses vegetable oil) plus egg yolks, those that contain no fat (Angel Food Cakes), and those where the only fat is from egg yolks (Sponge Cakes). From the list, I really like the Chiffon cake because the oil makes it very moist and also because I thought Lemon and I had a secret deal. An alliance of sorts.
Photo Credit: Flickr: Food Muse
I was going to make a Lemon Chiffon Cake with lemon cream and caramel layering it. Lavender was going to make an appearance in the frosting. All was to be happy.
I am sad to report that the six cakes I made found their home in the garbage — not good to even be re-used in a fruit trifle. And during the 49 hour period where I attempted cake after cake, separated egg yolk after egg yolk and talked to my oven so that it would distribute the heat properly through my cake, I may have cried a little, had a slight nervous breakdown, and suffered from the delusion that for some reason the next cake I’ll try will turn out okay even though I’m following all the same steps! But then again it could all be because I hadn’t slept in so long.
Kate Nash says:
My fingertips are holding onto the cracks in our foundation,
and I know that I should let go,
but I can’t.
And that’s exactly how I felt: that I couldn’t let go! And I didn’t just embed this clip here because I love the scene with her eating lemons. Or that I like the shoes and the yellow tights she is wearing. Honest.
So this is what I’ve learned:
Keep all ingredients at room temperature — especially eggs. You get much better volume when you whip the whites if they are not cold.
Use alum-free baking powder if you can. It creates a finer crumb.
Do not use a non-stick pan. I really experimented with not using a tube pan either but at last got the best results when my cake was baked in a tube pan.
I also learned that in Canada our flour has more gluten and so even though my recipe was asking for just all-purpose flour, I should have really used cake flour to not have the doughy results that I was getting.
Most important step of all is surrounding the egg whites. Make sure that they are not under or over-beaten. The egg whites should still be glistening and when you turn your bowl upside down they should be stuck to the bottom of your bowl. And hopefully you have better relations with your eggs than I do. I’m currently working re-establishing our friendship.
Photo credit: Flickr: sparktography
Really it seems like a lot of things to keep track of, but the results will be worth it. Trust me.
This is the recipe that I used yesterday and at last had that perfect cake!
Lemon Chiffon Cake Recipe adapted from Martha Stewart Living
Makes 1 seven-inch cake
Ingredients
3/4 cup cake flour (not self rising)
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
3 large eggs, separated
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tablespoons grated lemon zest (about 4 lemons)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (I used lemon extract instead)
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
Confectioners’ sugar, for dusting (I skipped this step and used a chocolate ganache frosting)
Direction
Heat oven to 325F, and have ready an ungreased 7-inch tube pan. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, salt, and 3/4 cup granulated sugar; set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk together egg yolks, vegetable oil, 1/3 cup water, lemon juice, lemon zest, and lemon extract. Add reserved dry ingredients, and beat until smooth.
In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat egg whites on medium speed until foamy. Add cream of tartar; beat on high speed until soft peaks form, about 1 minute. Gradually add remaining tablespoon of granulated sugar; beat on high speed until stiff peaks form, about 2 minutes.
Gradually fold egg-white mixture into the batter; start by folding in one-third, then fold in the remaining two-thirds. Pour batter into pan. Using an offset spatula, smooth the top. Bake until a cake tester inserted in the middle comes out clean and the cake is golden, about 45 minutes.
Remove cake from oven; invert the pan for 2 hours to cool. Turn cake right-side up. Run a table knife all the way down between cake and pan; invert again, and remove cake and serve to your enjoyment.
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.
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.
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?
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!
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’sElegant 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).
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.
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?
… 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.
Photo Credit: Flickr: Red Snapper Ceviche by Sarah Sosiak
But that’s not how things went down in my kitchen. I agree that fish mentions and allusions were almost on every page of this book, making one wonder: why isn’t a fish telling the story like in Maelström? In this movie, the storyteller, a fish, hails from the aquatic magma present at the very beginning of the universe, and lets us see how the chacaters come to terms with their lives. In Nikolski, we also follow the story as the characters come to term with their lives. Except that I’m not sure they ever did! Or did they? The book, as whimsical as it was, did not provide me with closure. The ending left me yearning for more and wondering: what will happen to the characters?
With confusing thoughts around this book and my pick for Canada Reads, I thought about the chronicles of Joyce, one of the characters of Nikolski. What did Joyce do when she wanted to get away from it all? She would visit her grandfather, drink tea, and listen to pirate stories! Naturally I knew I had to make some tea.
There is nothing normal about Nikolski characters though and so I couldn’t bring myself to just brew some black tea. Plus, I’m feeling sick with a cold and need a big dose of anti-oxidants. Using Green Tea Matcha seemed perfect.
Photo Credit: Flickr: Matcha Tea by diff_sky
Green tea’s no-none-sense kick needed something extra. Something to make our hearts warm, because the Nikolski characters weren’t all confusing and frustrating. There were moments where I felt all warm and fuzzy for them. And here is the answer: white chocolate green tea matcha drink! The warm luxurious and smooth feel of white chocolate is the perfect addition to the ninja green tea.
Ingredients:
60 g good quality white chocolate
¼ tsp matcha green tea
1 tbsp sugar
1 cup whole milk (or water)
Directions:
In a small saucepan over medium heat, heat the milk or water (depending on how rich you would like your drink to be) with matcha green tea and sugar. Whisk rigorously until mixture comes to a boil.
Reduce heat. Add white chocolate and continue to whisk until mixture just comes to a boil.
Pour the hot mixture in mug. Enjoy.
At last, will I be defending Nikolski? As delicious as the green tea matcha drink was, I think not. I wanted more from Nikolski.
With the debates starting shortly, I’m very confused as to which book I will be defending. But based on the panelists, I think that Good to a Fault has a good shot at winning.
In the mean time, I will drink some tea while I await the start of debates.
It is not often you purchase a necklace that makes you feel strongly compelled to make some pie!
Photo Credit: Pretty Betty Designs
This Pretty Betty vintage gold broach inspired necklace was exactly that purchase — the prettiest shade of blue underneath a golden bow-shaped crust. The off-centred bow is very Gossip Girl, no? And we know that Blair Waldorf must pie! Naturally I had to mix some flour, butter, and water and get started on making a blueberry pie.
For some reason, Blonde Redhead has become my pie making music (and not because they have an album called The Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons — honest). Today I listen to Misery is a Butterfly; its music and vocals eerily resembling my fear of the crust.
They say that temperature is key to making that perfect pie crust. Ingredients MUST be cold. Ice cold. I try to keep this in mind as I make my way through this recipe.
I put the butter in the freezer, refrigerated the bowl that I’m going to use for mixing my ingredients, and made sure I have ice cubes ready — they are going to be floating in my water to make sure that it’s COLD water. Just to be sure, I decided to put my hands over some ice to even cool my hands. Everything is now cold. I’m ready.
My favourite part of making pie is rolling out the dough. It’s been chilling in the fridge while I went through another round of Blonde Redhead on repeat and is now ready to be worked. I roll and roll and roll. Pie dish is now covered.
As for the filling: thanks to my Mary Boulton aspirations, I had saved a bag of blueberries from the summer farmer’s market.
Toss 4–5 cups blueberries, 1/2 cup sugar, 2 Tbsp cornstarch, 2 Tbsp lemon juice and 1 tsp. vanilla in a bowl. Cover your lower crust with finely crushed cookies (Nilla wafers work well) or nuts to soak up excess moisture, add the blueberry mixture and the top crust.
Some oven time, and done!
Next time you’re wondering what to bake, mayhap take a look at your necklace collection?
