Too Lazy to Cook

It isn't too hot. There is no family crisis. And we aren't being pulled in ten million directions.

Nope. It's just a week filled with dogs using beds and carpets as bathrooms, teething babies, whining and sniveling Monsters, taking care of the neighbours' incredible barfing cat, and a miserable time at work. So no, I don't feel like cooking.

Last night we went out. Yeah, that was a mistake. The girls are normally great in a restaurant, but last night they were not. So rather than resort to true laziness and simply boiling water for pasta I pulled out some leftover bread from Aviv. A quick survey of the counter and fridge revealed the rest of the ingredients for dinner: tomatoes, peaches, and some mallow and green onions from last week's CSA delivery.

Yup, when you are too lazy to cook you can still have a damn tasty meal. Just 10 minutes of chopping and a quick drizzle of oil and vinegar and you've got panzanella. For us non-italians, that means bread salad.

This is a technique more so than a recipe. I've never made this without tomatoes, but the rest of it depends on what herbs and other veggies I have around. Sometimes cucumber and red onions. Sometimes coriander and roast peppers. And today, peaches, mallow, and green onions.

Basic Panzanella

serves 1-4, or more

1/2 to 1 loaf of day old crusty bread

1 pint cherry tomatoes or two to three tomatoes, chopped

peaches, cucumbers, onions, peppers, or veg of choice - a couple of chopped handfuls

1-2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2-3 tablespoons of fresh herbs - basil, mint, oregano, mallow

olive oil

balsamic vinegar

1. Tear or cut your bread into rough 1 inch pieces.

2. Place bread in a bowl, add tomatoes and remaining ingredients of choice. Add garlic and herbs.

3. Drizzle generously with olive oil and vinegar. Season generously and eat.

Oh, and in case you thought that even this dinner was immune to the daily frustrations of life these days this was half of dinner, before we even started. I was coming inside after taking a few pictures and the dog jumped up, knocking the bowl from my hand. Sigh.

Impress Your Girlfriends

The next time you've got friends coming over for dinner or brunch and are worried about impressing them, make this dish.  You will look like a star, with 10 minutes of effort.  Just 10 minutes.  It works for mother-in-laws too.

This is the humble clafoutis.  See, it even has a fancy French name (pronounced kla-foo-TEE). It's not a showstopper cake topped with ganache.  Nor is it a buttercream topped cupcake.  And nay, it is not a labor-intensive pie. Just a simple clafoutis.

It does look good, though, right?

Traditionally a clafoutis is made with cherries, and nothing but cherries.  But we came home from a weekend visiting family facing a limited supply of groceries. I had a lot of apricots and a lot of cherries.  With just a few other simple ingredients we had dinner.

Yes, I said dinner.  We had a late lunch on the way into town so this is what we ate before the girls went to bed. I whipped it up, stuck it in the oven while we finally hung the swing Smilosaurus got for her birthday.  After the tantrums started I took the ridiculously good smelling 'pancake' out of the oven and we promptly ate it all but one piece.  And that one was eaten Nigella style at 3 am by me.

It really is an easy recipe.  All you need is a blender and a pie plate. Smilosaurus even pushed the button on the bender for me. Without any effort you can have dessert, or my favourite concept, brunch. 

And the taste?  It is described as a pancake or custard.  I thought it was more crepe like, but a bit heavier. Baked custard? Just know that it isn't pie, cobbler, crisp, crumble or buckle. It is clafoutis.

As I said, I used apricots and cherries, but any stone fruit or berry would work. Perhaps peaches and raspberries or plums, apricots, and nectarines. The recipe is based on one I found during Summer Fest, and comes from good ol' Martha.

Fruit Clafoutis

(serves 4-6)

1/2 cup vanilla sugar

2/3 cup milk

1/3 cup heavy cream

3 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon almond extract

2/3 cup flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 cups sliced fruit

1. Peel and slice fruit (peaches, plum, or apricots into 6-8 slices and cherries in half). Set aside.

1. Butter a 9 inch pie dish and dust with a tablespoon of sugar. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Blend all ingredients except for the fruit in a blender for a minute.

3. Pour half the custard mixture into the prepared pie plate.  Arrange fruit on top and pour the rest of the custard over the fruit.

4. Bake for 45-55 minutes, until the top is golden brown and puffy.

Serve warm or cold with whipped cream.

Taste Adventure - Sour Cherries

Behold, the sour cherry. And the sour cherry pie. Oh, the sweet sour cherry pie.

Until about 10 days ago I always thought that sour cherries were an edible myth created by American food editors. Created to make do with smaller Bing cherries or like fried green tomatoes, something to do with unripe fruit. Then I was wandering through the tables of yet another BC fruit seller at the market, comparing prices for a small container of blueberries, when I noticed the sign. If it wasn't for the sign I probably wouldn't have noticed the sour cherries. They looked like a smaller, paler cousin to the giant Bings. So I snapped up a large container for a ridiculous price and daydreamed about all the recipes I've read over the years.

And then I remembered that I gave away all my magazines.

But really, there was only one thing to do. How could I not make pie to pop my sour cherry? Yes, I just said that. That's how monumental this is.

The first taste was surprising. You know the canned cherry pie filling you can buy? The kind that fills every commercial pie and black forest cake? Surprisingly, a plain sour cherry tastes exactly like that, just less sweet. I had kind of figured that this mythical creature was like grape juice - the real tasting radically different from the processed. That taste excited me immensely and gave me a huge boost of confidence. I figured there was no way to mess this up.

To give you an idea of the size of a sour cherry here it is next to an organic Rainier. The organic ones are smaller than the regular ones and that sour cherry seemed positively tiny in comparison to a regular Bing. They were easy to pit, simply coming apart between my thumbs.

The Monster and I pitted the cherries, we boiled the juices with some cornstarch and sugar, stirred in the rest of the cherries and a generous pat of butter. Then I made some pate brisee, chilled it, and when I rolled it out I knew I had a winner. I made the pies, mopped on some cream, and sprinkled them with raw sugar for some extra crunch. I put them in a hot oven, then I promptly forgot about them.

It was a near disaster in an already frustrating day. But I caught them just before complete failure. The juices ran just a little and those were the really cooked bits, and easily picked off. In the end, though, they were the perfect finish to an eventful day. And like any good first date, it ended well. So well.

I do have some cherry pie filling left. I froze the bit that was left in the hopes that I'll find more sour cherries this weekend. If not, then I figure I'm going to try and use regular Bings, perhaps with a bit of almond extract added.

Cherry Hand Pies
Makes 15-16 generously sized pies

Pate brisee (enough for a double crust pie)

5 cups pitted sour cherries, loosely packed

3/4 cup granulated sugar or vanilla sugar

3 tablespoons cornstarch

2 tablespoons water

1/2 lemon, juice

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons butter

1. Make your pate brisee or pie crust recipe. Chill well.

2. Once you have pitted your cherries drain them. Pour off the juice into a small saucepan, with one cup of cherries and the sugar. Heat over medium high heat until the sugar is dissolved and liquid is boiling.

3. Meanwhile, stir the cornstarch and the water together. Once the cherry liquid is boiling add the cornstarch mixture. Continue to boil until the liquid is clear, a few minutes.

4. Remove from heat and add the butter. Once the butter is melted add the remaining cherries. Set aside to cool.

5. Once the mixture is cool take your pate brisee out of the fridge. On a lightly floured surface roll out the dough to a quarter inch thickness. Cut into roughly 4 by 6 inch squares or cut out circles about 5 inches in diameter, whatever is your preference.

6. Working one at a time, place 2 heaping tablespoons of filling on the center of each piece of dough. Fold one side over the other and seal well by pinching the edges together. You could finish by pressing a fork around the edge.

7. Place on a Silpat or parchment lined cookie sheet, brush with cream or milk, sprinkle with raw sugar, and cut two small slits in the top of each. Place in the freezer.

8. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.

9. Bake pies for 15-20 minutes, until golden brown.

This is the second week for Summer Fest '09. Make sure you take a browse around the other participants. A Way to Garden, Matt Bites, White on Rice Couple, and Steamy Kitchen, among others are leading the way. Make sure to share your own Summer Fest experiences here, there, and everywhere.

Ice Cream for Dinner

Some days diets and nutrition are just thrown out the window. When you are young, single, and childless it is pretty damn easy to make a dinner of nachos and beer, or perhaps some chips and dip in front of wrestling on TV (been there). Having kids, though, makes nights like those so much more difficult, yet so necessary.

Gone are the days of pizza on the couch or a bowl of cereal for dinner. I would like to blame an irrational desire to promote nutrition and proper dinner etiquette, but I have to blame The Monster. We tried, more than once, to make it a big treat to have dinner at the coffee table in front of a hockey game or Le Tour de France.  No dice, that kid insists on eating dinner together at the dining room table.  We're lucky she doesn't know anything about white tablecloths and candles. Sure, it is our fault for a general insistence on table manners and enforcement of dinnertime rules. But seriously, can't we relax the rules, just a little?

I did discover a good way to do that - don't even mention it's dinner.  Just sit down on the floor at the coffee table, food in hand.  Let them come to you, begging to try your treat.  Then, don't feed them dinner.

That is how we came to have ice cream for dinner the other night.  Hubby was out of town so it was just me and the girls. I'd had a day, just a long, draining day.  And I wanted to try and get a decent picture of this ice cream before 9 pm.  Since the ice cream was all soft (too soft) and I didn't want to freeze it again, I scooped it all in one bowl, parked in front of Le Tour, and we ate ice cream for dinner.  And damn, it felt good.

Strawberry ice cream with a rhubarb swirl.  If one felt so inclined a sprinkling of granola on top would make it the ice cream interpretation of a strawberry rhubarb crisp.  But I wanted smooth, creamy, tangy, and sweet.  And this delivered.

The ice cream was made with the custard base I've developed and quite like - creamy and thick without being eggy. I macerated, then pureed strawberries. Then added a swirl of stewed rhubarb before it was placed in the freezer.  

Just a note on the rhubarb.  The picture below shows two different versions of stewed rhubarb, made exactly the same way.  One was with pretty much green stalks, one with very red stalks. There was pretty much no difference in taste. The only difference is cosmetic. I saved the brown stuff for a topping for oatmeal and yogurt, and used the pink stuff in the ice cream.

   

Strawberry Ice Cream with a Rhubarb Swirl

Makes about 5-6 cups

2 cups half and half cream

1 cup heavy (whipping) cream

1 cup milk

1/2 a vanilla bean, split

3 egg yolks

2 cups cleaned, hulled strawberries

1 cup sugar, divided

1 cup chopped rhubarb

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1 tablespoon water

Splash of vodka

1. Combine creams, milk, vanilla bean, and 1/2 cup sugar in a heavy saucepan.  Heat while stirring, but do not scald or boil.  Whip egg yolks in small bowl.  Slowly pour 1/2 cup of warm cream/milk mixture into eggs, whisking constantly.  Pour eggs/cream/milk mixture back into the remaining cream/milk mixture.  Heat, stirring constantly until custard is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (5-10 minutes).  Remove from heat, pour through a sieve into a clean bowl, cover with plastic wrap directly on the surface of the custard, and refrigerate for 4 hours or overnight.

2.  While custard is cooling slice the strawberries and macerate in the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar.  Just before you want to make the ice cream blitz the strawberries with a food processor of mash well with a fork.

3. Make your stewed rhubarb.  Combine rhubarb, brown sugar, and water in a small saucepan. Set on medium heat to cook.  Stir occasionally while the mixture cooks down.  After a few minutes the rhubarb will be almost broken down and the sauce will be thick.  Remove from heat and cool completely.  Add a splash of vodka just before adding to the ice cream. 

4.  Stir the strawberries into the cooled custard and make ice cream according to your ice cream maker's instructions.

5. When your ice cream is done, place half in a container for the freezer.  Dollop half of the cooled rhubarb over the ice cream.  Scoop over the remaining ice cream, top with dollops of the remaining rhubarb.  Quickly run a knife through the ice cream to swirl the rhubarb.  Place some plastic wrap directly on the surface of the ice cream and freeze until firm. 

For The Love of Rhubarb

Walking the dogs the other night I was seriously tempted to do a little midnight gardening. Now, I'm a thirty-something mom with a mortgage, a real job (as opposed to a McJob), and significantly less alcohol running through my blood than I did 10 or even 15 years ago. Midnight gardening is not something I should be doing.  You know what I mean, right?  Sneaking into gardens to pull carrots, pick strawberries, and sneak raspberries?  Oh, maybe that's just what us bored kids in the 'burbs did.

So there I am walking the dogs in the near dark.  Business done, I notice this giant, neglected rhubarb plant in the corner of the alley.  Just tucked behind someone's garage, begging to be chopped down, this lush plant called to me.  "Pick me!  Come on, you know you want to do it. Pick me!"

The thirty-something mom in me prevailed and I went home with only a dog-poop bag in hand.

A few days later, however, we were working on the fence with the neighbour.  The girls wandered down the alley and when I chased after them I came across their rhubarb plant. I completely forgot that they have two of these plants.  Since they would never harvest and use all of it, and they really didn't need to store one more thing, I volunteered to take it off their hands.  Really, I'm that generous.

At this point it was necessary to bring out a bowl of sugar and introduce the girls to one of my favourite childhood treats - rhubarb dipped in sugar.  We pulled up a pile of wood, watched Hubby cut some of that wood and our neighbour shovel gravel, munching away.  Okay, I munched away, The Monster sucked sugar off and tried to peel her rhubarb, and Smilosaurus gummed the stalk and fought to put handfuls of sugar directly in her mouth.  Perhaps the introduction was a bit too early?

When it was time to get the girls out of the way of Hubby we came inside and baked. Conveniently, nature provides the perfect match for rhubarb, strawberries.  I know it seems a little cliche, but they really are made for each other.  There is a reason they mature together. Armed with the first of the BC strawberries I knew that nothing but a crisp was in order. Everyone else can have their cobblers, crumbles, and brown betty.  I love me a crispy crisp.

In my eyes, a perfect crisp has a slightly runny syrup, chunky fruit, and a crisp, oat-filled top. Pick your fruit based on the season, but don't mess with the top.  Ever.  No extra seasonings, no fancy additions.  Simple, plain, and balanced.  And whatever you do, please leave the nuts out. They just don't belong.

Where it does pay to be creative is in the filling.  Spice, limitless fruit combinations, and unexpected additions are all welcome here.  Looking to branch out  - just a little - from my usual strong vanilla accents with the strawberry rhubarb crisp I dug through my recently organized spices.  Cinnamon?  Nah, too predictable. Nutmeg?  Feels too wintery.  Cardamon? Ooh, now that could be nice.  Holy freakin' gawd, it was amazing!  Try this.  Now.

When it comes to cardamon, a little goes a long way.  It would have been a lot better if I had some whole pods to grind fresh, but a little ground, dried spice still worked wonders.  It really was a perfect compliment to the tartness of the rhubarb and sweetness of the fresh strawberries.  We invited our neighbours over for dinner.  Good fences do make good neighbours.  And rhubarb honestly got makes you a better neighbour.

Cardomon Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

(serves 4 for dinner, and possibly a little leftover for breakfast, topped with yogurt)

Filling

2 cups sliced strawberries

2 cups sliced rhubarb

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons flour

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/2 teaspoon - 1 tsp ground cardamon (depending on how strong it smells) 

Topping

1/2 cup softened butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/4 cup rolled oats

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.  Spray an 8 by 8 baking dish (or similar size) with non-stick spray or butter the pan.

2. Gently mix together the fruit through to the cardamon.  Pour into the baking dish and set aside.

3.  Cream the butter and brown sugar.  Add in the flour and salt.  Finally, stir in the oats.  Do not overstir or mix because you can break up the oats and that diminishes the crispiness.

4. Using your fingers, top the filling with clumps of the topping.  Do not press down.  

5.  Bake for 20-30 minutes, until the filling if bubbling and the top is lightly browned.  Let cool and serve with ice cream, whipped cream, or yogurt. 

There's a Party in the Park

In case you were wondering, birthday parties for a three year old are so worth the effort. She won't remember it, but I will forever remember impatience for the last month - drama included - and the high of having all these people there for her, the Happy Birthday Girl.  The drama on her part, and mine, was worth it.

With so much competitive parenting going on these days I would like to think I am immune to it. We've been to our share of birthday parties of late and inevitably we do take notes. Usually those notes revolve around ways to make the party clean-up easier and how to sneak some wine into a kid friendly venue.  Thankfully we have a great group of friends and family that were more than happy to simply come and hang out with us on a finally hot Saturday afternoon. There is a park across the street from our house, a rather convenient feature considering that we still have no yard.  So we carried over a few picnic tables, a couple of quilts, a mess of sandwiches, some bubbles and balls for the kids, and had ourselves a picnic.

I realize that this fruit porcupine is more than a tad over the top for a picnic.  It was a fantastic way to keep a now three year old occupied with prep work.  Skewering grapes, a new way to kill time and fruit.  Plus, there were no post slurp watermelon rinds to deal with.  Keep in mind that this is not a way to serve things if you have any distance to travel to your picnic.

Remember the asparagus?  Edgar Farms is still picking, so I'm still eating.  On my continued mission to indoctrinate, er... feed my friends good food I blanched some, along with some green beans, and served them with some Gull Valley cherry tomatoes and a homemade blue cheese dip.  For the few moments when I sat down I was parked near this platter. I'm not sure how many people tried the asparagus with me hogging the plate.

The rest of the menu included grilled veggies and Boursin on a whole wheat baguette, a recreation of the famous Italian Centre sandwiches (very well received and a soon to be picnic staple in this house), tabouleh salad, Holy Guacamole (We Got Chips), and some brewed iced tea and lemonade.  And don't forget the cupcakes!

Speaking of the cupcakes, I'm pretty sure that the was the only food most of the other kids ate. I think my friends were maybe prepared for me and my tendencies because most of them brought their own food for the kids.  Hey, I made peanut butter and jam sandwiches too! I thought it was pretty kid friendly with the fruit porcupine and veggies, but maybe that is only my kids? 

No party would be complete without a little entertainment.  No clowns or facepainting here. We had Uncle Paul juggling fire!  Sadly fire is not that noticeable at 4 in the afternoon.  I can tell you that it is very noticeable after a few beers and once the sun finally sets in the summer. Unfortunately the kids always miss that entertainment.

Happy Birthday Monster!

Unmitigated Kitchen Disaster

I'm sparing your the disgustingness of what this photo could be.  Just look at my overcooked, but nicely crimped crust.  You've got to find something nice about it.  Please?

It snowed again this week.  Rain would have been welcome, but snow that we actually had to shovel?  So not welcome at the end of April.  In an attempt to remind myself of what indeed will return - summer - I pulled out one of the pies I made with the last of last summer's peaches.  The promise of sunshine for breakfast was enough to get me through the snow.  I should have stayed in bed, covers over my head, babies calling to me, and no tea in the pot.

The pie was horrible.  Although I faithfully researched different ways to freeze pies before I even attempted things last August, this was an utter failure.  A lot of information simply said to make the pie as you would, but not to cook it.  A little extra flour or starch in the filling would capture the extra juices you would get when you bake it.  So make your pie, freeze it, then bake it straight from the freezer.  Let me now tell you that this was bad advice, very bad advice. There was so much liquid from the fruit that the top crust effectively poached.  This is not an attractive way to cook a crust.  I even drained out some of the liquid, to no avail.  So my filling was nice, but the pie was both overcooked and undercooked.

I still managed to salvage some semblance of my summer dreams by scooping out the pie filling and eating it with yoghurt, but it wasn't the same.  I guess I'll just have to wait until August.

Taste Adventure - Lulo

This has been a long winter for everyone.  No matter how committed I am to eating local as much as possible I've been caving lately.  I Just. Can't. Eat. Another. Apple.  Not one.  And heck, those aren't even really local to Calgary.  But I've run out of frozen berries and peaches, there are no more saskatoons or rhubarb for baking, and I need the tang and heat that comes with something grown in the sun, relatively recently.

I'll admit to buying imported blueberries and watching out for the California spring fruits that actually look good - I draw the line at strawberries that look white inside.  But my true weakness are the tropical fruit I find at More Than Mangos.  I know, I've mentioned them before.  It goes against the true nature of our local farmers' market to have them on location, but I'm happy he's there.

Last weekend I picked up this pretty, round fruit.  Mostly orange with some deep green it actually reminded me of my childhood bedroom.  I was given free reign to pick my colours when I was about 7 or 8 and I chose peach and dark green.  But the taste of the Lulo was anything but childish.

Tart, but sweet.  Almost like a lime curd, but a lot tangier.  The pulp, scooped out, had the texture of a soft jelly.  In truth, the whole thing reminded me of eating those sour lemon candies - the fruit jellies covered in sugar.  I ate the flesh atop a bowl of my favourite vanilla yoghurt.  It was just what I needed on a not quite spring day.

And the girls?  The Monster gamely took a bit and refused any more.   Smilosaurus would eat it with enough yoghurt on the spoon, but that's it.  It may have reminded me of childhood and candy, but my daughters apparently have different tastes.

Taste Adventure - Passion Fruit

In the winter at the Calgary Farmer's Market the pickings get slim.  We still go to buy the bulk of our groceries, have brunch and coffee, and let the Monster jump her little heart out in the bouncy castle.  Bypassing the crafts which we don't need but look nice we skip through the stalls to our regular spots.  Recently, however, a new vendor has been tempting me with the exact opposite of locovore eating.

More Than Mangos has taken up a weekend stall for the winter.  The colourful fruits and exotic smells are intoxicating in the grey and tired days of mid winter.  We've been buying avocados, mangos, and baby bananas imported from Central and South America.  I decided to branch out recently and picked up some passion fruit.  The scent of these orange passion fruit - versus the purple and plain ones Andres has - was more than I could resist.

And I would be the only one.

The Monster was more than excited to open the passion fruit in the recommended way - by smashing it.  The natural curiosity of a toddler led her to ask a few questions about what this new thing was.  Smashing it was great fun.  And as soon as she saw what it looked like inside she walked away and refused to have anything more to do with it.  She wouldn't even come close it after that.  

When Hubby came home I tempted him with this new treat.  I'd devoured that juicy pulp from the one the Monster broke, straight up.  We cracked another one and Hubby bravely took a slurp.  Quite promptly he responded that it was "nasty".  It reminded him of guava, which he hates.

Oh well, more for me.  It kiboshed my plans to make a passion fruit pavlova for dessert.  And so it sat.  The Monster ate a Cara Cara orange instead.  And I finally finished the passion fruit as a topping on some yoghurt.  A tropical, but somewhat disappointing end to that slurpy, sweet pulp.
I haven't given up.  I'll get them to eat it yet...  Smoothies, vinagrettes, maybe even a cocktail or some ice cream.

Taste Adventure - Figs

Call me boring, weird, or simply odd, but I hate Fig Newtons. Nothing about them is good. They are dry, pasty, and boring. And the fig filling? Just gross. But like most commercial food based on a real food, I figured the taste of the real thing would be enough to make me wonder how they can even put said fruit's name on the commercial product. Nope, I now think figs are gross too. And the Monster agreed with me.

It rather surprises me that I've never had a fig before, at least consciously. There had to be some snuck into salads at high end restaurants, or in a tagine. Nope, not that I can recall. And I am thankful for that. Otherwise I would have had a spoiled meal and not discovered some damn tasty frozen yogurt.

After we cut up a fig to try the other day and both spat it out in disgust I had to figure something out. I'd paid money for the damn things, I wasn't throwing them out. Then I remembered a old issue of City Palate that had a feature on figs (Julie?) and I'd actually pulled some recipes to try. Because I am a firm believer that roasting makes almost everything taste better I went with the recipe for Roasted Fig Fro-Yo. I did end up halving the recipe because that was how much yogurt I had in the house.

Huge success! The fro-yo was rich and sweet and oh so creamy. Did it taste like figs? Not the gross ones we had, but it definitely tasted like more than plain fro-yo. The Monster happily ate hers with a glass of pear nectar for a post-dogwalk snack. For me, it was the perfect accompaniment to the last of the apple pie my mom made for us on the weekend.

Roasted Fig Fro-Yo
(adapted from City Palate July/August 2008)

500 grams thick plain yogurt (Liberté Mediterranée)
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
4 fresh figs, stemmed and halved
1 tsp canola oil
2 tsp honey

1. Drain the yogurt in a cheesecloth lined sieve set over a bowl for at least a few hours, preferably overnights.
2. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Spread the figs in a single layer in a small baking dish, drizzle with the oil and honey. Roast for 20 minutes, or until soft. Press through a sieve and discard the skins. Set in the fridge to cool.
3. Once the fig mixture is cool stir it into the drained yogurt. Freeze in an ice cream maker, according to manufacturer's directions.

For futher fro-yo adventures, check out this crazy video!

Eeking Out Summer

The corn is almost done, as are the peaches. My tomatoes are still very green because there is no heat to the day. And the days are so much shorter now. Summer is over and our brief glimpse of fall has begun. To celebrate the end of the summer, use up some mealy peaches, and get the girls (and I) out of the house while Hubby was out of town I baked some hand pies and we headed to the park for a picnic.

After another week as a single parent I was rather excited for our picnic. The Monster was not. But I was smart, I went to the playground. Of course, that meant she spent most of the time playing and very little eating. Half an apple and half a pie. She hasn't been eating much of anything lately, perhaps she is getting some molars? How could I worry when she tore around the park, happy as could be? I even managed to nurse the baby while she climbed and slid. Oh, and I ate about 4 pies... Talk about emotional eating, or they were just that good.

To make the pies I took my mealy peaches, about 4, and a couple of ripe bartlett pears, tossed them with some vanilla sugar and a couple of tablespoons of flour. No recipe, just some peeled and chopped fruit in a bowl. You could use any combination of fruits. Next time I'm doing apple and pear together.

I made some pate brisee, cut it into 4 inch squarish shapes, and filled with a few tablespoons of fruit. Then I simply pinched the edges, brushed with a beaten egg and a bit of milk, then sprinkled with some raw sugar for extra crunch. Bake at 350 degrees Celcius for about 15-20 minutes.

Here is the recipe I use for crust. It is my standard for all pie crusts. Originally, I always used Martha's, but now I add the vinegar and have more consistent results with a tender, easy to work with crust.

Pie Crust (based on a pate brisee)
Enough for two single crusts or a double crust pie.
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
1 cup cold butter
1 tsp apple cider vinegar
2 tbsp - 1/4 cup cold water

1. Mix together the dry ingredients.
2. Cut the butter into smaller pieces and add to the dry ingredients. Pulse together in a food processor and cut with a pastry blender until it resembles a course meal.
3. With the blender running add the vinegar and the water, one tablespoon at a time until the dough is moist but hasn't quite come together.
4. Turn out onto a clean surface and bring together into two discs. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill at least one hour or ready to use.
5. Roll out on a floured surface and use.

Meanwhile, we are heading out shortly for a Slow Food event. Hubby and I are excited for some good food and company. I'll admit, I would have loved to get a babysitter, but it is a beautiful day and the event is in a garden. It will be tiring to chase after the Monster and still have time to eat and visit, but I hope she finds something yummy to eat.

Mine! Mine! Mine!

There is that moment in time that every parent dreads in the development of their toddler - the Mine! stage. When the fork you are using, when the book you are reading, when the toy the other little girl is playing with, or when the quilt on the bed is always "Mine!" to your kid. It's exhausting to chase them arround attempting to extol the virtues of sharing or explaining that other people need those things to eat, mow their lawn, or move. It's infuriating when they can't grasp it, even though we should know better and realize an 18 month old doesn't necessarily know any better themself. So we follow behind them, chastising them as much as we can and apologizing profusely to the man whose cane she tried to steal or the little boy whose cookie she took.

I will not, however, apologize for my upcoming bit of selfishness. You see, I am painfully addicted to my cherry jam. Rather, to cherry jam with ricotta on toast. I could eat this every day, two or three times a day. The only thing that stops me from doing this is supply.

Sure, you can get cherry jam in the store. Most of it is imported from Europe and is quite chunky and thick. I find it all rather cloying, but it will work in a pinch. This summer I was inspired and decided to make my own. So far I've made three batches and I still worry whether there will be enough to get me to the next cherry season.

Making the jam, while time-consuming - was actually quite easy. I even decided to try it without using the pre-made pectin. I thought I was rather brave, having used Certo my entire life. With a little bit of searching I came across a post by the ice cream guru David Lebovitz. It was all coming together.

Following his basic directions I pitted all my cherries (with my paring knife), cooked them down a little, measured, then added sugar and boiled away. Then I put them in my specially bought jars. (Smart me bought new jars of a different shape for all my cherry jam. That way there can be no mistake between the cherry I love and the strawberry for the Monster and raspberry for Hubby.) A half hour later I realized that the jam was not going to set. So I emptied the jars back into the La Creuset, quartered an apple for some added pectin, and boiled again. Success this time. So I tried again with cherries and peaches. Yesterday I decided that I didn't have enough in the pantry and made another batch of plain cherry.

Instead of rationing my supply, I will enjoy it all. The Monster and Hubby will not. They are not allowed to touch my cherry jam. And yes, I will have a temper tantrum if I see their fingers or spoons even in the vicinity of my cherry jam. Maybe the Monster will shake her finger at me and tell me to share, and maybe I will. Likely I won't. It is all mine, mine mine.

Black Currant Adventures

When travelling with a toddler it is important to note the difference between fruit farms and farms with animals. A few weeks ago a girlfriend and I saddled up all the girls (she has two as well) and went south to Okotoks for a morning at Kayben Farms. This was exciting for us moms, but a great let down for the Monster when she realized that, other than the black cat hanging out by the cash register, this farm did not have any animals.

That being said, the girls were troupers and worked up a good amount of excitement for berry picking. We were too late for strawberries but the black currants stood ready for us. The excitement lasted oh, about two minutes. At that point A (my friend's oldest) decided that black currants were gross and the Monster hated getting her arms scratched by the bushes.

My girlfriend and I stuck to it - hell we weren't giving up without a fight and at least a half a bucket of black currants. We gave the girls snacks and sent them off to pick flowers/weeds. In between policing them and making sure the babies were happy we managed to get about a half bucket. By then the girls were done with the field. We headed back to the main building, drooled over flowers, and treated the girls to a black currant slush.

I headed home with all the black currants, armed with great intent to turn them into something. I'm not a fan of jelly, preferring jam. After boiling down the currants with some water and straining them overnight I was left with 10 cups of tart juice. What to do? What to do? To be honest, I couldn't decide so I just froze the juice.

After seeing Julie's post about blackcurrant sorbet and ginger ale floats and my current fixation with the ice cream maker I thought about ice cream or sorbet. My original thought was syrup, but I was having a hard time finding instructions or a recipe. Then I saw a show on Vermont and they, of course showed a sugar shack. Hmm, you make syrup by boiling the crap out of the sap. I decided that's what I would do with the black currant juice.

First I had to find bottles. A few trips to restaurant supply stores and Canadian Tire came up with nothing. Then my mother-in-law suggested a winemaking store. Jackpot! A dozen 375 mL bottles with plastic, reusable stoppers.

It turns out buying a dozen bottles was optimistic. My 10 cups of juice, after an hour of boiling, turned into about 900 mL of thick syrup. Well, not quite syrup yet. I added in 3 cups of brown sugar, a half cup at a time. It is still a bit tart, but I didn't want it sickingly sweet.

All that's left it to make pancakes for dinner and enjoy our labour.

Sources:
Kayben Farms
Winemakers Wine Co 403-258-1200

Silver Linings

When life hands you an emergency trip to Kelowna in August you must seek peaches. Hubby's grandpa landed in the hospital last week with what turns out to be his second broken hip in a year. At the last minute we decided to drive out on a rare free weekend. How could we not take the opportunity to see Grandpa? The old man is doing okay after surgery and we all got another visit with him.

With a bit of free time in the afternoons - they have forced naptime at the hospital - we were able to enjoy a swim in the 40 degree weather. Whew. And the family in town (Hubby's uncle and his family also live there) had us all gather in the late evenings for beer can chicken and pizza. In their backyard they have some fruit trees and a walnut tree. Eager to always teach the Monster where her food comes from we climbed the terraced garden to the peach tree. Can I just say that my idea of heaven now involves a comfy chair under a peach tree? The scent is the pure scent of peach. No bath product can truly replicate this. And a fresh picked box of peaches is close, but it isn't as fresh or sweet as the scent right under the tree.

The Monster is suddenly a fan of whole fruits. On Sunday night she ate two plums, a peach, and then she stole my apple. This was after almost two slices of pizza! But there was no way I could deny her the fresh off the tree goodness. Bedtime be damned, still warm fruit in a sultry breeze with a full moon rising is not to be denied.

Hubby's uncle was generous and sent us home with a box of fresh-picked peaches. The car radiated sunshine as we drove home. We ate more than a few along the way, and then some more after the girls were finally asleep last night. Then I had some for breakfast and the Monster took one to daycare for lunch.

After making ice cream and some jam today I still have almost two dozen giant orbs that need to be made into something yummy. I am going to make this Browned Butter Bliss tomorrow. And a pie or two and some crisps will need to go into the freezer. That should take care of these peaches, and then I'll buy more on the weekend.

I searched and searched for some ice cream recipes. After my research I decided to be brave, or cocky, and make up my own. I wanted to stick with the custard base, still feeling like I need to master that before I branch out, but I was really disappointed with the egginess of my first attempt. And I had some thick whipping cream from Vital Green in the fridge that needed to be used. I found one recipe for brown sugar peach ice cream, and one for roasted peach ice cream. Without a doubt those two flavours needed to go together. I wasn't the only one who thought so... Julie, maybe we were separated at birth? I had no yogurt in the house and the baby was napping so I went on my own with the custard.

This was definitely a better attempt. Still not perfect, but I think the problem was the peaches, not the custard. I only mashed them when I should have blitzed them in the food processor. Mashing left them pulpy instead of pureed. I could have mixed the puree and some cut chunks. Lesson learned. We were able to wait long enough for it to harden before we ate it tonight, but just barely. Surprisingly, the Monster wanted nothing to do with it. I guess she wants to stick to whole fruit.

Roasted Peach Brown Sugar Ice Cream

3 large, fresh peaches
1 tbsp butter
1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp dark brown sugar
1 cup whipping cream
3/4 cup skim milk
2 egg yolks
dark brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees C.
2. Halve peaches and place in oven proof pan or baking dish. You don't have to peel them, but mine pretty much peeled themselves as I cut into them.
3. Dot peaches with butter and sprinkle 2 tbsp brown sugar. Roast for approximately 30 minutes. Let cool.
4. Mix cream and milk and heat over medium heat.
5. Whish egg yolks and 1/4 cup brown sugar.
6. When milk and cream are warm, but not hot, pour a little over the egg yolks to temper them, whisking constantly. Slowly add the rest of the cream and return the mixture to the pan.
7. Whisking constantly, cook the custard until thick and bubbles subside.
8. Cover custard and cool for a few hours or overnight. When cold, process in the ice cream maker according to your manufacturer's instructions.
9. While ice cream is being made pulse 2 of the peaches in the food processor until you have a coarse puree. Finely chop the remaining peach.
10. As the ice cream finishes in the maker, add in the puree and the finely chopped peaches to incorporate.
11. Place into a container and freeze for a few hours.

Raspberry Rapture

I can't decide what I am more excited for - making ice cream for the first time or the raspberry haul we got the other night. Perhaps it is the fact that I combined these two loves and made raspberry ripple ice cream.

Walking down the alley the other night, avoiding the jackhammer noise that Hubby was making in the backyard, we discovered an unattended raspberry patch. The Beagle Lady, so-called by us because she breeds and raises beagles in her house, has a huge patch behind her fence. The Monster and I rudely snuck a few berries and continued on our way. I mentioned the patch to Poppa, our neighbour, and ten minutes later he poked his head in the door to say we have permission to pick as much as we want.

Friday night we grabbed our bowls and went down a few houses. Grandma Betty and I picked and picked despite our aching backs. The Monster had her own bowl, but it was for show only as all raspberries went directly into her mouth. Soon she realized that it would be much easier to eat them directly out of my bowl. And so she did, by the fistful. Unfortunately she wouldn't sit still long enough for me to take a picture of her messy face and raspberry heart, from crushed berries running down her shirt.

After a day of snacks and breakfast of sweet ruby goodness I decided to tackle ice cream. Nigella Lawson has an entire section on ice cream in Forever Summer. I borrowed/stole my mother-in-law's ice cream maker the last time we visited, ice cream was mine to make.

First lesson in ice cream making: read all directions to the ice cream maker the day before you want the ice cream. It turns out I was supposed to put the bowl in the freezer for at least 6 hours before any attempts at ice cream are made. That meant watermelon for dessert last night. And I now know that the freezer bowl needs at least 12 hours to freeze with my new ice cream maker.

Second lesson in ice cream making: make sure Hubby is home to keep both the Monster and the baby occupied so you can pay attention to the custard. Even then it almost curdled on me. I listened to Nigella and had a sink of cold water handy. She said if the custard starts to curdle to immerse the pot in the cold water and whisk the custard like crazy. It worked!

Third lesson in ice cream making: try to be patient after you put it the freezer to harden. Otherwise you have ice cream soup. Yummy ice cream soup! We'll see how the leftovers are tomorrow night.

Fourth lesson in ice cream making: make more ice cream. It really isn't hard - if I do it during naps or when the Monster is in daycare. I'm excited to try more recipes from Nigella, even if her custard seems a bit eggy to me. And I want to try some other recipes, like this raspberry ice cream.


Raspberry Ripple Ice Cream
(adapted from Nigella Lawson in Forever Summer)

500 ml half & half cream
100 ml heavy cream
1 vanilla bean
6 egg yolks
200 grams sugar
1 tsp vanilla
125 grams raspberries
1.5 teaspoons balsamic vinegar (make it a good one)

1. Fill a sink with cold water.
2. Split the vanilla bean down the middle and scrape the beans into the creams in a heavy pot.
3. Whisk the egg yolks and 150 grams of sugar together.
4. Heat the creams to a near boil.
5. Pour a small amout of the heated cream on the eggs, whisking continuously, to temper the eggs and not cook them outright with the hot cream. Slowly add the rest of the cream to the egg and sugar mixture.
6. Return the mixture to the stove and cook, whisking continously, until the custard no longer has bubbles on top and is thickened.
7. Immerse the pot in the cold water, add the vanilla, and whisk to chill. Alternatively, you could stir in the vanilla and set it aside to chill.
8. Once cool, follow the directions of your ice cream maker to make ice cream.
9. While the ice cream is freezing, blitz the raspberries, remaining sugar, and the balsamic vinegar in a food processor or mash together. Push through a fine mesh sieve to remove the seeds.
10. Freeze the raspberry mixture to thicken, but not set.
11. When the ice cream is frozen, but not solid, pour a third into a container. Dribble a third of the raspberry syrup over. Repeat with two more layers. Run a wooden skewer or sharp knife through the ice cream to swirl the raspberry ripple into the ice cream.
12. Freeze until set.

Sources:
Forever Summer Nigella Lawson