Run. Run. Run.

January 31st, 2012 § 4

Quickly and quietly. That’s how I eat cake late at night.

Quickly and quietly.

I eat cake quickly. And I worry about 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 don’t want to just get by. And so I run.

I run, but this time it’s not because I’m panicked and trying to get un-lost in life. Or that I’m baking pies late at night and just can’t separate eggs even though I should. This time I’m not running because I’ve tried polyphasic sleeping in an attempt to achieve all the goals I’ve set for myself and then set a goal to un-commit from some of the things I had signed up for because even with polyphasic sleeping I couldn’t finish them all andandandandand…

I run.

This time I run because running brings out the best in me. And because research also says that exercise is no longer optional. We used to think it was. But today, it is overwhelmingly clear that exercise changes your life and makes you perform better at work. So I run.

I’ve been running 3 to 4 times a week for the past 6 months, aiming to run 10K each time. I run and I worry about getting by and I make lists. I run. And then late at night, I eat cake. Quickly. Quietly.

I’ve set some goals for this year too, but this time I don’t need to run away from them because I’ve had to start polyphasic sleeping. This time I have an accountability coach. She keeps me in check. For two weeks I categorized my goals and charted them and architected how to achieve them. I used this goal setting technique and documented goals in a spreadsheet. I ran and I made lists.

I sent goals to accountability coach. One of my goals is to publish at least two posts per month on this blog. And to re-design my blog too.

I run and I think about my lists.

February to-do:

+ Buy curing salts.
+ Make bacon.
+ Put up new deerhead on wall.
+ Figure out what frame sizes are needed for Ampersand wall and maybe even buy some frames.
+ Buy rubber boot tray.
+ Figure out a better budgeting system. Don’t spend any money system is not working.
+ Put up wine rack.
+ Put up dot coat rack.
+ Create a calendar for blog posts. Write real blog posts with better pictures of food.
+ Read The Boys in the Trees.
+ Read We Have Always Lived in The Castle.
+ Host reading group.
+ Write book review of Swing Low: A Life.
+ Get involved with Ladies Learning Code.
+ Finish reading All That is Solid Melts into Air.
+ Hand in school assignment.
+ Continue reading Me++: The cyborg self and the network city. Continue working on thesis.
+ Again, attempt to make live active yeast.
+ Try to keep yeast alive.
+ Make cinnamon bons.
+ Make marshmallow.
+ Make hot cocoa. Drink with homemade marshmallow.
+ Make Valentine’s Day cards
+ Mail out Valentine’s Day cards
+ Bake cookies. Decorate cookies.
+ See friends. Give them cookies.
+ Order cheese making kit.
+ Make Dylan 10 playlist.
+ Wear oven gloves. Don’t burn yourself. (ongoing)
+ Buy a gold fish. Name it Wi-Fi. Keep it alive.
+ Take pictures.
+ Re-design this blog.
+ Have birthday. Get older. Don’t lose perspective on life.
+ Learn to swim. Swim once a week?
+ Run. Run. Run.

OK, so I have a month to get things done. Accountability coach reminds me I also have a full time job. I want to be a top performer. And so I work. Work. Work. I start losing sleeping hours. I run. I contemplate list. Then I eat cake late at night.

I think if I cross just a couple of things off this list I’ll be happy. Accountability coach keeps me in check about my goals. Real life perspective coach keeps me going on the daily runs and list making craziness.

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. It also says happiness is connected to meaningful relationships. I am happy to be surrounded by great friends. And friends who become my coaches. And friends who keep me in check. And friends who create new memories and connections for me as far as Dylan is concerned (oh, I think I can cross the Dylan 10 off of my list soon). And friends who encourage me to be bold. And friends who create running plans for me. And friends who motivate me to continue running.

But now it’s 3:31am and I’m eating cake.

Photo credit: The Kitchn by Laure Joliet

Root Beer Chocolate Bundt Cake
Recipe from Apartment Therapy’s The Kitchn

Ingredients

For cake:
2 cups root beer (we suggest Trader Joe’s Old Fashioned Root Beer, or any root beer made with cane sugar)
1 cup dark unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs

For frosting:
2 ounces dark chocolate melted and cooled slightly
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup root beer
2/3 cup dark unsweetened cocoa powder
2 1/2 cups confectioners’ sugar

Direction

For the cake:
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Butter and flour the bundt pan.

2. In a small saucepan, heat the root beer, cocoa powder, and butter over medium heat until the butter is melted. Add the sugars and whisk until dissolved. Remove from the heat and let cool.

3. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, and salt together.

4. In a small bowl, whisk the eggs until just beaten, then whisk them into the cooled cocoa mixture until combined. Gently fold the flour mixture into the cocoa mixture. The batter will be slightly lumpy–do not overbeat, as it could cause the cake to be tough.

5. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 35 to 40 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through the baking time, until a small sharp knife inserted into the cake comes out clean.

For the frosting:

1. Melt the chocolate over low heat on the stove. Add the rest of the ingedients and stir.

2. Take the mixture off the heat and allow to cool. (We put it in the fridge for about 2 minutes).

3. Whisk the cooled mixture to make sure it’s mixed well and stiff enough to frost.

You Got to Lose

January 25th, 2012 § 2

It’s said that if we tell our story over and over again, the story would have less power over us. And so I tell my story. I tell my story to friends. I tell my story to colleagues. And to neighbours.

I tell my story to bread.

Maybe it’s that I’m consumed by Lauren Berlant‘s writings and her thoughts on intimacy lately, but I knead my dough and face the contradictions of intimacy. “I didn’t think it would turn out this way.” This is the secret commemoration on intimacy. Berlant alludes to the history behind intimacy as a public mode of identification and self-development, and that the constant energy of public self-protectiveness can be sublimated into personal relations of passion, care, and good intention. There are good reasons for this aspiration Berlant says.

She says domestic privacy can feel like a controllable space of potential unconflictedness.

But intimacy only rarely makes sense of things. Intimacy is the zone where contradictions meet. I knead my dough. And I tell it my story.

I knead my dough and I tell it my story. Water, flour, and Salt. Making bread is more than just oven temperature and kneading. Making bread is about listening to your dough. It’s about poking it. Feeling its texture. It’s about letting it rest. Yeast, flour, water, and salt. Making bread is about moving with the rhythm of the dough. So I knead and I feel the dough under my hand. Smooth texture. That’s good. I knead and I tell this dough my story.

The bread at San Francisco’s Tartine Bakery sells out within an hour almost every day. Chad says that his strongest inspiration for being a baker came not from real bread but from images of bread. Images of a time and place when bread was the foundation of a meal and at the centre of daily life.

Thus he began his search for a certain loaf with an old soul. Bread is intimate. It’s also about managing fermentation. Chad starts our bread making journey with a basic country bread that uses active live yeast. Yes. A vigorous starter. We learn about managing wild yeasts and bacteria.

Developing a starter begins with making culture. I’ve attempted to make my own starter several times now. Each to no avail. First I broke the unspoken rule and named my starter before it had passed its maturation period. Then I failed at maintaining it consistently. Now I just look at it and wonder if it’s going to turn into some sort of monsterosity. I eye it cautiously and work it into the dough.

Yes, I knead my dough and I think about intimacy and I tell it my story. I was a heavy heart to carry. I reach for red lipstick. Well, red-lipsed you can face anything, no? I reached for red lipstick hoping this dough would rest and rise and make a loaf of bread filled with little wholes of intimacy. I reached for red lipstick but then grabbed One Bloody Thing After Another. Ann and her sister Margaret don’t have much of a choice but to feed their mother (she won’t eat anything that’s already dead). It’s not easy. But then it’s family. It’s not supposed to be easy.

I eye my yeast. It needs to be fed everyday too. I worry it’s not going to make it like the other starters I attempted. Red-lipsed or not, I worry that this living organism on my counter might actually turn into something more than I can handle. But then again, when it comes to matters of intimacy, it’s not supposed to be easy, right? I knead my dough.

One Bloody Thing After Another was heartwarming and beautiful. With a mixture of humour and horror, short and powerful sentences simply made me want to hug someone. That’s why I’ve put it on top of my Tartine Bread book.

I read One Bloody Thing After Another and I knew I was going to be okay. Just not today. Today I wear red lipstick and I knead dough.

I read One Bloody Thing After Another though and I think: if there ever was a feel good book, this just might be mine. Intimacy is a complicated thing. It shapes the narrative we want to have for our life and it disrupts that narrative just as easily. I let this dough rest on my counter. I try not to make eye contact with the starter. Even red-lipsed I can’t handle losing another starter again.

Even red-lipsed I can’t.

Photo credit: Flickr: Scrambldmeggs

To make starter
(recipe from Tartine Bread) 

Mix 5 pounds of bread flour — half white and half whole wheat flour. Fill a small, clear bowl halfway with lukewarm water. Add a handful of the 50/50 flour blend to the water and mix with your hands to achieve the consistency of a thick batter with no lumps.

Use a dough spatula to clean the clumps off your hands and tidy the inside of the bowl. Cover the bowl with a kitchen towel and place in a cool, shaded spot for 2 to 3 days.

Check to see if any bubbles have formed around the sides and on the surface.

To feed the culture, discard about 80 perfect of it, and replace with equal amounts of water and flour blend. Repeat this process everyday. The starter needs to be fed once a day. Everyday.

The book says that training your starter is a forgiving process. It says: don’t worry if you forget to feed the starter one day; just make sure to feed it the next. The only way to mess up a starter is to neglect it for too long or subject it to extreme temperatures. That’s what the book says.

I disagree.

I’ve messed up my starter every time I’ve attempted it. Where is that red lipstick? Or a glass of scotch? Single Malt. I need to tend to this starter. Oh god, I hope it doesn’t die.

Side note:

I’ve told my story over and over again. I’ve told my story to friends. And I’ve told my story to bread.

I make bread and I eye my starter. I think about One Bloody Thing After Another and I hope my starter won’t become a monster. I also realize that I’m going to be okay. Sometimes you got to lose love to find love.

I’m happy I’ve found bread.

Autobiography of Childhood

December 19th, 2011 § 4

This short, bitter, poignant story is about confronting loss. Sina Queyars unfolds a painful story as the Combal family is confronted by death in childhood. The Combal family, in Autobiography of Childhood, sees death and sets on moving. The family moves from province to province, country to country, childhood to adulthood.

The Combal family moves from health to sickness. From life to death. And through each movement, the remaining Combal siblings tell their tales of the beginning, and of moving away from the beginning. The Combal family moves away and towards death as each sibling recounts childhood memories, often taking place in their family car — driving away from the beginning or towards a beginning. Or both.

So much movement. So much loss. So much bitterness. And so heartbreakingly, all I can think of is apple and pear pancakes.

Maybe it’s that Queyars has set her book on Valentine’s Day and I’ve been watching Apple and Pear eyeing each other for weeks now. As Pears move their hips — dancing — I’ve been watching Apples move closer.

Pear always wants all the attention.

Pears dance and Apples move and I think: Queyars’ poetic prose moves from one line to the other as the Combal family moves in their car. Would pancake breakfasts have made a difference in the jarred melodic movement of their childhood? Pancakes served with sweet honey butter? Pancakes filled with pears and apples?

The story of pancakes is a story of beginnings too. It all starts with a batter folded just right so as not to turn out too glutinous. The batter moves. It sets. It takes shape. The story of pancakes is a story of movement.

I think of pancakes and I think, they’re some sort of happiness. Warm. Syrup-covered. Sweet.

And so in a large mixing bowl, I set on whisking. I move my arms and I whisk together eggs, oil, honey. I whisk in yogurt and milk and apple juice. I whisk. And I move. And I whisk. Yes, the story of pancakes is a story about movement too.

Fresh Fruit Pancakes
Recipe from The Taste of Nova Scotia Cookbook

Ingredients

2 eggs
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup liquid honey
3/4 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup apple juice
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 1/2 cup baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1 small apple, unpeeled, cored, finely chopped
1 small pear, unpeeled, cored, finely chopped

Direction

Whisk together eggs, oil, honey, yogurt, milk and apple juice until well combined. In a small bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Fold in dry ingredients until blended, then stir in chopped fruit. Don’t over fold. Don’t over stir.

Then in a lightly oiled, heavy-bottomed skillet over medium heat (or if you’re me and you’re serving bacon with your pancakes, in a skillet covered with bacon fat), place 1/4 cup of batter for each pancake. The book says 1/2 a cup or 125 mL, but I like my pancakes a bit smaller.

Cook on one side until bubbles appear on the surface, then carefully flip to the other side and continue to cook until golden.

Serve with bacon.

Or forget the bacon and serve with maple syrup.

Or forget the bacon and maple syrup and serve with honey butter! Another recipe in The Taste of Nova Scotia Cookbook is for this simple and delightful spread, honey butter. Simply cream 1 cup of butter and gradually add 1 1/2 cup of honey.

I think if I was a member of the Combal family I would serve my pancakes with honey butter because god knows we would need some sweetness in our lives.

And so I listen to The Smiths and I eat pancakes and I revel in the sweetness of the butter. And I think for such a bitter and sad book, I’m surprisingly happy now.

Side note:

All this moving in Autobiography of Childhood and I’m thinking: I need to cook my way across Canada. I’m very excited about this as I’ve recently accumulated some cookbooks with recipes from New Brunswick, Newfoundland, and now Nova Scotia.

You can follow my cooking adventures as I make my way across Canada on Twitter using #CookingMyWayAcrossCanada or on this blog.

My goal is to try recipes or cookbooks unique to each of our provinces and territories and then visit each place and try the food made locally. If you have any recipes that you want to share, leave a comment here or send me a tweet @somethinglemon.

For now, I make fruit pancakes and read about the Evangeline Trail in my Nova Scotia cookbook.

from The Taste of Nova Scotia Cookbook

What We Eat in Wonderland

June 20th, 2011 § 3

All stories begin in one of two ways: a stranger comes to town or else, we set upon a journey.  The rest is all just metaphor and simile, says Barbara Kingsolver.

Mary Boulton came to town and I started roasting hazelnuts. I continue to roast hazelnuts. And I dream of stews. Under Mary’s command, those animals which live in the woods, in a state of natural freedom, with some salt and water, undergo a great number of cunning modifications and transformations, making for some truly gastronomical cookery. I read about Mary’s adventures and I want to be like her.

But then I read about Alice’s journey and, well, then I wear a bird on my head.

I wear a bird on my head and I make a bird’s nest toast and I get ready to go see Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Alice in ballet-form that is. Alice as she goes to a mad tea-party.

I wear a bird on my head and I read Favourite Recipes from Old New Brunswick Kitchens. There is the Never-Fail Pie Crust recipe but then that’s a story for another post and a story for when Pear starts appreciating my Mary Boulton ways. Yes, another post. This is about Alice and so I think maybe a certain sponge cake called Cinderella should be what I eat before I head out to the ballet? But then Alice isn’t a princess. Alice is an adventurer.

Then there is the Invalid Cookery & Miscellany section of the cookbook. Now that is Alice-like. She would partake in some invalid cookery while in a mad tea-party. No?

But I am wearing a bird and so a bird’s nest toast it shall be. Frank the Cardboard Deer agrees. So I start separating an egg, beating the white until very light. Oh and remember to keep the yolk. Yes, we’ll need the yolk.

Then I shape it in a nest-shape and put on the toast. A slice that’s been toasted and then dipped in boiling water. Carefully drop yolk in the centre, sprinkle with salt, place in oven. Frank is watching. He wishes he could go to Alice ballet too. Alas he is just cardboard and can’t leave the wall. He is also envious of the dance party I’m having in my apartment while I wait for this egg concoction to brown in the oven.

I dance and I think of Alice and I eat a bird’s nest toast. Then I take the bird off of my head (I got shy). And I go to the ballet.

Bird’s Nest on Toast
Recipe from Favourite Recipes From Old New Brunswick Kitchens

Ingredients

1 egg
1 slice of toast

Direction

Dip a slice of nicely toasted bread in boiling water and place on dish. Separate one egg. Beat the white until very light and arrange it in nest-shape on toast. Drop the yolk carefully into the centre, sprinkle lightly with salt and brown in oven. Take from the oven as soon as the yolk is heated thoroughly.

Dance. Dance. Dance.

May 30th, 2011 § 0

Oh the sensation of taste. Certainly the tongue plays an important role, no? Moisten. Mash. Churn. Swallow.

The inside cheeks furnish saliva.

And without that final savouring taking place at the back of the tongue, the whole sensation of taste would be obscure and quite incomplete. Or so describes Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin who spent twenty five years of his life writing The Physiology of Taste.

For me, the sensation of taste is linked to my feet. And when a certain rice pudding entered my mouth… when saliva laced the spoon… when ground pistachios marched towards my teeth…well… my feet started moving… and all I could do was dance.

So I say: Jean! Hey Jean, let’s Dance!

Because when dancing is involved in the preparation, pudding cooperates. It takes form. It becomes smooth. The pudding, the moistening, the mashing, the churning, the swallowing, it all becomes sensational.

So I dance.

I move my feet and I continue chopping pistachios. Can you be Iranian and not like pistachios? Not dream of pistachios? I don’t think that’s possible. I like mine roasted with vinegar.

I chop pistachios so they are ready to be sprinkled on top of the fereni (Iranian rice pudding).

Photo Credit: Flickr: StrangeJourney

Okay, okay, and maybe I ate a whole bunch of pistachios in the process too.

Photo Credit: Flickr: Adav

Fereni can be served in many different ways. Some like to make it with rice grains, but then I ran out of rice and I couldn’t find the brand of rice that I always get and because I couldn’t stand by this new rice that I got, I decided to use white rice flour instead. I just couldn’t risk cooking with rice that I hadn’t tested before. How starchy will this rice be? How will it taste like? Will it rise and cook into individual rice grains? So many questions.

Rosa Montazemi, the ultimate Iranian cook as we’ve discussed already, uses rice flour in her recipe too, so I guess it’s okay.

Fereni
Recipe from The Art of Cooking by Rosa Montazemi

1/2 litre of milk
50 grams white rice flour
100 grams sugar
1 tablespoon rose water

Direction

In a saucepan over low heat, whisk rice flour and milk together until rice flour is mixed in the milk. Then add sugar and rose water. Rosa says you can add up to two tablespoons of rose water. Sadly I find the smell of rose water too much for my senses and used only a teaspoon of it in my pudding.

Continue stirring. Stir. Stir. Stir. Stir. Until mixture thickens and is just about to boil. Stir. Stir. Stir. Move your feet. Move your feet. Move your feet. Stir. Dance!

You should be able to see a trail behind your spoon as you are stirring. That’s how you know your mixture has thickened enough.

Pour into a bowl and let cool. Then place in the fridge. I like to serve fereni cold and with ground pistachios on top. But a lot of people will eat it warm. Eating fereni warm though brings winterly thoughts to my head and it’s summer.

So your fereni has been in the fridge for awhile. Next:

Eat pudding. Then continue dancing.

Because in Real Chocolate I Find Closure…

January 28th, 2011 § 1

Maybe it’s that I am reading Essex County when winterly wonders roll by? Maybe it’s that I’m watching snow flakes dance their way down, slowly, sentimentally? Or maybe it’s that I have been listening to Noah and the Whale’s Give a Little Love on repeat, turning the pages of Essex County, a graphic novel contender in this year’s Canada Reads? But chocolate is what I need.

Essex County architects the story of a young boy coping with the loss of his mother to cancer and living with his uncle on a farm. Next come two brothers whose love of hockey connects and disconnects them throughout the years only to bring them closure at their farm house. Then we hear the tales of a nurse who is involved in all the character’s lives.

Yes, I read the book and I listen to Give a Little Love and I think about the interconnections of Essex County, about each character’s quest for doing what they love, for realizing that life is fleeting. I listen to Give a Little Love and think about living on a farm, in isolation, only lined in by neighbours. I think about the past shaping our present, about loneliness and finding closure and connectivity in comics, in friendships, in memories.

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I listen to Give a Little Love because:

well if you are what you love,
and you do what you love,
the worst day of your life, may just be near the best!

Photo Credit: The Hitchhiking Adjunct

Essex County was simple in its message. It was simple like life when not marked by loss, isolation, and lost dreams and memories. It was simple like friendship not touched by betrayal, by sacrifice. It’s complexity paralleled my emotions while I was reading it — someone come an unclench my heart! Or give me some chocolate please.

Yes, I read Essex County and I listen to Give a Little Love and I whisk some real drinking chocolate.

Real Drinking Chocolate
Recipe from Edible Vancouver

Per serving:

1 oz (30 g) good quality dark chocolate
1 Tbsp (15 mL) cocoa powder
1 Tbsp (15 mL) sugar
½–¾ cup (125–175 mL) water or milk (milk will make this a much richer drink)
Spices (optional)

In a small saucepan over medium heat, warm the water/milk, chocolate, cocoa, and sugar. Once the chocolate starts to melt, gently whisk the mixture to combine. Bring the mixture just to the boil. Add the spices and whisk until combined — no spices for me. This chocolate disk, raw, real, and all its sweet, rich flavour, is what I need to get me through Essex County.

So I pour the mixture in a warmed mug. I listen to Give a Little Love. And I finish Essex County. And I hope that it makes it to the final two for Canada Reads 2011, because it’s a book I can see myself reading many times over — each time connecting new pieces that I’d missed before.

For now I think about this:

well if you are what you love,
and you do what you love,
the worst day of your life, may just be near the best!

Side note:

This is a full winterly soundtrack that accompanied my reading of Essex County:

Strangers and I + Pear + Pecans

December 12th, 2010 § 1

Michael Warner says a public can unite strangers through participation. He says strangers come into relationship through ‘the public’ , though the resulting relationship might be unspecified.

In modern society, a stranger is not as marvelously exotic as the wandering outsider would have been in an ancient, medieval, or early modern town. In that earlier social order, a stranger is mysterious, a disturbing presence requiring resolution. In the context of a public however, strangers can be treated as already belonging to our world. More: they must be. We are routinely oriented to them in common life.

I wonder if Michael Warner knew his thoughts on strangers and ‘a public’ would bring me closer to spelt flour! And rice flour! They have been strangers in my pantry since I moved to Toronto. Sure, we’ve been glancing at each other — apprehensively — and once I even contemplated substituting rice flour in a cake I was baking. But when time came to turn the oven on, I just couldn’t do it. Warner talks of unspecified relationships, and well, I just wasn’t ready to move beyond the guilty glances and the awkward moments that we shared.

But all the while, they were already strangers belonging to my world, part of my kitchen, asking: why do you let me stay here, all by myself, on the shelf?

And I couldn’t let what happened to Zooey in this video to happen to my flour. Oh no. I can’t. I won’t. And so I do it! I open the pantry door, grab the spelt flour, grab the rice flour, and sit them on my counter. And run away.

Okay, so it was a process. After a couple of days of looking at the flour on my counter, I finally reached in with measuring cups. Pear thinks that he had something to do with this. He likes to take credit for bringing me and the flour together. But seriously, I think it was that I finally had a recipe that excited me. Oh, you pear, you.

Photo Credit: Flickr: Anushruti RK

And so it begins: I make pear and pecan scones with 1 1/4 cup of spelt flour and 2/3 cup brown rice flour.

Pear and Pecan Scones
Recipe adapted from Sweet Freedom by Ricki Heller

Ingredients

1 cup pear puree (from 2 large, very ripe pears, about 8 ounces; use fresh or previously frozen puree)
2 tbsp light agave nectar (I used pear nectar)
3 tbsp sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1 tbsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 tsp pure almond extract
1 tsp apple cider vinegar
1 tbsp finely ground flax seeds
2/3 cup coarsely chopped pecans
1 1/4 cup light spelt flour
2/3 cup brown rice flour
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp fine sea salt

Direction

Preheat oven to 375F. Line baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, combine and pear puree, nectar, oil, vanilla, almond extract, vinegar and flax seeds. Add nuts and stir to coat. (Oh, have I mentioned how much I love roasting and chopping pecans?)

Photo Credit: Flickr: Satakieli

Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients, or at least 2 minutes.

In a large bowl, sift the spelt flour, rice flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Pour the wet mixture over the dry and stir to combine well. You will have a thick batter. Flatten to disk-like shape and with round cookie cutter, place dough on baking sheet.

Bake in preheated oven for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, rotate pan and return to oven for 10-15 more minutes, until the edges are dark golden brown and the top is browned in spots. The top of scones should feel firm to the touch.

Allow to cool. Serve.

Ricki Heller recommends devouring these scones for breakfast, slathered with apple butter. And that is exactly what I did, while listening to She & Him, contemplating where this new found relationship between me and the flour is going to go? This no-longer-stranger in my kitchen. This happy surprise on the baking sheet. This union between the flours in my pantry. And will pear get jealous?

And Happiness Was in Its Fruity Notes

October 8th, 2010 § 2

When you are panicked and trying to get un-lost in life and are baking pies late at night and just can’t separate eggs even though you should and when you seriously start contemplating polyphasic sleeping because you have problems with goal setting and then set a goal to un-commit from some of the things you have signed up for because even with polyphasic sleeping you couldn’t finish them all andandandandand…

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Like the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s I wanted to run, run, run away because clearly I have no sense of time and have lost my mind. But then I also want to stay and want to be happy and I don’t want to just get by and so have decided to put learning French on hold (just until I get a handle on goal setting).

And then 30 Days of Local Wine starts and it becomes wine of all things that gets me to question: am I over-emphasizing happiness? No.

Am I?

I listen to the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s with it’s substantial build up — instrumentally. Her voice as she sings the song stays level throughout while layers of instrumentation are building up and so the song appears simple and complex at the same time. Like life. Like wine. And as I sip Fielding Estate’s White Conception — a unique blend of 50% Pinot Gris, 21% Chardonnay Musqué, 18% Gewurztraminer, 6% Riesling, 5% Chardonnay — with its complexity building up with each sip and its fruity notes and its bitter yet lemony (oh, I do love lemony) taste, I know why I need to shift goals.

Its White Conception’s fruity notes that drew the crowd while I was drinking this wine with friends. I realized: happiness comes from relationships.

And so as I’ve been sampling local wines I’ve been doing it with friends and I think: I am happy. I am happy for friends who draw cartoons of wines for me.

Cartoon Credit: Hungry Bunyip

And I am happy for turducken and Thanksgiving and eating and drinking.

The Way We Get By

August 12th, 2010 § 2

I’m learning French.

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.

So I’m learning French and I go through lemon chiffon cake marathons and I participate in blueberry pie competitions. Blueberry pie in French is tarte aux myrtilles.

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.

Apparently, research also goes on to say that exercise is no longer optional. We used to think it was. But today, it is overwhelmingly clear that exercise changes your life and makes you perform better at work and that it is absurd to think that you can function optimally in life without regular exercise. I don’t exercise. This sentence makes me sad. I’m trying to be happy and I don’t want to just get by and I want a challenging “home life” and so I bake blueberry pie, and mix dry ingredients really really hard. That counts as exercise, right?

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:

When:  Sunday August 15th, 2010 11:00 AM – 4:00 PM
Where: Evergreen Brick Works, 550 Bayview Avenue, Toronto
http://ebw.evergreen.ca/cal/event/blueberry-festival

Lemon and Me: The Cracks in Our Foundation

August 7th, 2010 § 3

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.

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