Slightly Regrouped

It wasn't just the pie, but that definitely had something to do with it.  It might have been the four day weekend.  Or maybe staying home with our modern family (our friends) did it for me. Quite possibly it was simply sleeping for more than 5 hours a night.  Whatever it was, I can feel some of my mojo coming back. And yes, this pie had a lot to do with it.

Maple makes me happy.  In a delirious sort of way.  I fully admit to taking swigs of maple syrup from the bottle.  I will find any excuse to include it in a recipe from baked beans to oatmeal cookies to lamb stew with dumplings. The sight of a real sugar maple is enough to make me start salivating. So this Rustic Maple Pecan Pie indeed made me happy.

It made me happy to read about it in the first place.  It made me happy to make it yesterday afternoon while the rest of the house napped.  It made me happy to share it with our close-knit friends after a raucous Thanksgiving dinner.  And it is making me happy to share it with you.  

Thank-you to Aimée at Under the High Chair for letting me share this with you. Use your favourite pie crust, I went with my standard Pate Brisée.

Rustic Maple Pecan Pie

(courtesy of  Aimée's Auntie Lynn)

1 unbaked 9 inch pie shell

2 eggs

3/4 cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons flour

1 cup pure maple syrup

2 tablespoons butter, melted

1/2 chopped pecans (I used a bit more than that)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla

1/4 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2.  Beat eggs in a medium sized bowl.  Stir flour into brown sugar and add to eggs. Mix well. Stir in remaining ingredients.

3. Pour into pie shell and bake for 40 minutes.

4. Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.  And more maple syrup drizzled on top.

Pears, Pears, and More Pears

While I'm not sure if any food makes me as happy as a warm strawberry plucked right off the plant I must admit that this pear comes deliriously close. It isn't quite right off the tree, but you don't want that anyway. Rather, a pear does better with a few days on the kitchen counter to mellow into its juicy, sexy sweetness. In the case of this pear it excelled with a couple of days in the Mission Hill Family Estate kitchen, a 7 hour drive in the backseat, and a few more sultry days on our kitchen counter.  Then it turned into a TV star.

Before we ventured to the Okanagan last week I booked my first TV appearance on Breakfast Television. The timing was perfect and I spent some of our time at the Penticton Farmers' Market searching for the perfect pears to bring home. The pears at the market were perfect, if I wanted to eat them that day.  Our guide, Matt Batey, heard my lament and offered up some Mission Hill pears.  They'd been picked the day before and would I like to stop by the Estate and pick them up when we were on our way home?

What a no brainer.  Of course, it meant that we didn't get home in time for the girls' bedtime. Ah, they'd hardly noticed we were gone anyway.

After days of touring around the Naramata Bench and visiting people in their homes, garages, and vineyards it was quite a shock to our senses to arrive at the Mission Hill Family Estates sprawling grounds.  From the second you pass through the gates at the end of a residential drive the entire experience is choreographed. You pass through the keystone (above) and enter the grounds.  Your view is filled with the sky, lake, and mountains behind, all framed by the Terrace restaurant, Bell Tower, Visitor Center, and the overwhelming feeling of luxury.

Then Matt greeted us in his chef whites and brought us back to reality with a tour of the gardens, kitchen, and food experience of Mission Hill.  The place may be all about the wine, with gardens and menus built to frame that wine, but the passion in the food and in Matt was evident.  I am dying to go back and try a winemaker dinner or culinary workshop. Another trip...

Here is Matt in the garden.  One of the fascinating things about the gardens here was that they are planted by grape varietal. It was like food and wine pairing for idiot cooks.  Well, probably a bit fancier than that. But in case you didn't know, Chardonnay works with cilantro, lily, corn, beans, squash, mint, and yes, pears.

Then there were the pears.  After pulling out a few crates Matt and I packed out one full crate of Bartletts, Bosc, and Asian pears to take home. Thank-you Matt, you're just lucky that they survived the drive home. He and Hubby seem to share a certain propensity for big, bad cars and heavy feet.

Yes, that is the seatbelt getting good use on the Old Okanagan Highway. No carseats on this trip, but safety always comes first!

So my precious beauties arrived home safely.  They were the perfect inspiration for the some lovely dishes. Hubby watched the girls last night and I baked, kneaded, and chopped to prep for this morning's BT appearance. I made Pear, Gorgonzola, and Carmelized Onion Pizza, Asian Pear Slaw, Upside Down Pear Gingerbread Cake, and Cardamon Hand Pies. The Monster helped me with the ultimate recipe, the Honey Pear Cheesecake.  It was a good thing she helped me last night because apparently she had a fit this morning watching me on TV.  "I want to bake a cake with Mama on TV!"  Maybe next time, Sweetie.

Honey Pear Vanilla Cheesecake

(Serves 10-12)

2 cups graham cracker crumbs (or crushed Nilla wafers, gingersnaps, or plain biscotti)

¼ cup butter, melted

2 tbsp sugar

3 (8 ounce) blocks of cream cheese, room temperature

½ cup honey

3 large eggs

1 vanilla bean

¾ cup pear puree or ½ cup pear nectar

½ cup flour

1 pear, peeled and finely diced

1 cup sour cream (optional)

¼ cup honey (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  Boil a full kettle of water.

2. Mix together the cookie/cracker crumbs, sugar, and melted butter until the consistency of wet sand. Press into a 9 inch springform pan, across the bottom and coming up the sides slightly.  Bake for 15 minutes.  Cool slightly and wrap the bottom of pan in two overlapping layers of aluminum foil.

3. Combine cream cheese and honey and beat until smooth.  Add the eggs, one at a time, incorporating after each addition. Slice the vanilla bean in half lengthwise and using the back of a small paring knife scrape the seeds from the bean.  Add the seeds to the cream cheese mixture along with the pear puree or nectar and the flour.  Mix until smooth. Finally, stir in the diced pear.

4. Pour the batter into the prepared crust and place in the springform pan in a larger pan. Transfer to the oven.  Before closing the oven door pour water from the boiled kettle into the larger pan until it comes about halfway up the sides of the springform pan.

5. Bake for 45-55 minutes, until the cheesecake seems firm but still slightly wiggles in the center.  Turn off the oven and close the oven door.  Keep in the oven for another 60 minutes. Remove and cool completely in the fridge.

6. Optional topping: Before serving mix together the sour cream and ¼ cup honey.  Pour over the cheesecake. (A nice touch or a way to disguise surface cracks.)

(Doesn't Dave Kelly look so enraptured by something?  Probably not me or my pears  - although I did manage to call them sexy on morning TV - but the segment went well.)

Eden in the Dust

So we finally get our grass in, our fence up, and have even hosted dinner once or twice. Then the City and Volker Stevin show up. They tore up part of our new front lawn, ripped apart the alley around our entire blocks, and now use our yard as the traffic line between alley and front street. Oh, and did I mention that my yard is surrounded by giant 20 foot deep holes? The noise and dust are constant. Thank goodness the girls can sleep through it. I only wish I could.

For two little kids the continual movement of machinery and big men is rather fascinating. We can watch at the window for hours and whenever we are heading out to the park or the men are taking a break we investigate the most recent digging. Apparently it is quite an ordeal to move a fire hydrant across the street. I can be amused by some new-to-me truck, but that's where my enthusiasm ends.

Then the pastry arrived.

Yesterday we shared some fresh cookies (baked to take the autumn chill off the house in the morning) with the builder men. The Monster was quite disappointed that not all of them were taken. Try explaining Ramadan to a 3 year old. Any and all sadness disappeared when one of the guys let her go in the giant hole today. And all my annoyance with the noise quickly shot out the backdoor when one guy arrived this afternoon bearing a tray of phyllo pastry. He insisted that we take half of it, and then more because some pieces were small.

At first we thought it was a variation on baclava. Phyllo spinkled with pistachios and honey. It seemed like a safe guess. Then we bit into it. The phyllo triangles are actually filled with some sort of mildly sweet, thick custard. It is not the same as the filling in a cannoli, being quite smooth and not tasting of cheese. But it also isn't like a typical pastry cream, being thicker and quite white in colour.

Unfortunately, our delivery guy couldn't tell us what was in it. Any clue out there?

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.

A Business Idea

My brother and his wife, and numerous friends of mine are fantastic with their kids' birthday cakes.  I default to cupcakes, but these folks are producing cars, trains, pirate ships, teapots, and yes, a box of crayons. Yes, I am jealous.

So my new business idea - feel free to steal it as long as you promise to give me royalties for life - is a bakery that specializes in kids' cakes.  This isn't Ace of Cakes perfection.  This is stayed-up-til-midnight-dotting-buttercream-on-cake-mix love. Someone should be baking and selling cakes that look like mom and dad made them the night before, so mom and dad can pass them off as homemade - to their kids and their friends.

Again, all I ask for is royalties.

The above cake was another homemade masterpiece by my brother and sister-in-law, in celebration of this little blue eyed wonder.

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. 

In The Zone

This past week was the second one in the Kitchn's Kitchen Cure.  Our task this week was to organize kitchen equipment.  A rather large task in most cooks' kitchens.  For me that meant two drawers of utensils, a drawer with pots and lids, a plastic storage container drawer, my baking supplies spread round the kitchen, and one random corner cupboard filled with extra spices, a colander, our turkey frier pieces, and a bunch of other crap.

The first step was to pitch any and all duplicates.  After that I got rid of supplies I never use, like the old cookie sheets and pots that were broken or had no matching lid.  These went into the pile for Goodwill.

My second step was to take anything out of the kitchen that isn't used on a regular basis - springform pans, lobster eating utensils, and the aforementioned turkey frier accoutrements.  These all went to the cold storage section of the basement.  That has to be another organizational task before we frame the basement, but not for now.

After the purge and the subsequent clean it came time to reorganize things.  With PBS Kids on for The Monster and The Smilosaurus napping I took a step back to evaluate how I really use the kitchen.  Truly, I have zones that I work in: baking/prep, clean-up, stove, and serving.  Sure, the kitchen isn't designed this way and it takes some creative thinking, but my brain thinks it works.

The stove section includes the pots, cooking utensils, all our oils and spices on open shelves.   Clean-up includes the sink and recently installed dishwasher, with dish storage right above. The serving section is the countertop below the dish and pantry storage.  And by serving section I mean a space of uncluttered countertop closest to the table.

Finally, I created a baking station.  We bought some freestanding cabinetry a few months back. Smilosaurus started crawling and was getting into everything on our open storage units.  When the dishwasher went in we also lost some existing cabinetry.  These new units were great - large, sturdy, and full of storage potential.  But I just dumped stuff in them without really thinking about it.  This exercise forced me to take a step back and think about how to use them most effectively.  

It's no secret that I love to bake, as does The Monster.  So I took one unit, filled it with all the baking utensils and pantry ingredients, and parked the little chair she stands on next to it.  Now everything is in one spot.  We have a large countertop space, only interrupted with the knife block, cutting board, and the Kitchen Aid.  It is still my prep station, after all.  But we can mix, roll, cut, and generally making a mess and it all stays confined.  Hubby can be at the sink, Smilosaurus can crawl around, and none of us are falling on top of each other.

One of the changes I made was taking my baking pans from the tall cabinet by the sink.  It always made sense to have them there, standing up.  There was, however, this stupid hook thing hanging from under the counter.  Pans were constantly getting caught on it.  Yes, I could have taken it out, but that wasn't the only problem with the cupboard.  There was just too much stuff it and it wasn't easy for The Monster to get things from there.  Considering that our baking generally revolves around cookies and muffins, I needed a better option.

With the focused baking center I got that.  I took one drawer and put in all the well-used baking supplies.  And yes, the largest item - the cookie sheets are on top.  Who wants to pull out all the pie plates, measuring cups, loaf pans, and spoons to get to the cookies sheets?  So much easier now.  Of course, after all this I need to giving Hubby an orientation.

Well, PBS Kids is nearly over and its time to bake.  I think we are going to try oatmeal cookies with cranberries and the white chocolate chips I found while cleaning.

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.

Comfort Food - Cake

Because beer doesn't qualify as food (although it has qualified as dinner before) it cannot truly be considered a comfort food.  Besides, that would be a bit scary.  But beer in cake?  Definitely dinner and dessert, and a midnight snack or two, all in one tasty, brown, sweet, and crumbly package.

During one of our recent emergency room visits I flipped through the March issue of Chatelaine?  Does anyone else feel sadly old reading a magazine they remember their mom reading, while you snuck looks to make yourself feel older?  And can you believe there was a current issue of a magazine in a hospital waiting room?  I digress.

Not so surreptitiously I ripped out the page before we left.  Something about beer and cake together seemed ridiculously indulgent.  Other than cupcakes here and there and a birthday cake or two (and it's usually wacky cake) I never bake cakes.  We just don't have enough company to justify all that goodness in the house for me to eat over the next two days, to the neglect of any other food.

There was no occasion other than family dinner to make the cake.  With one sad looking Trad in the house I broke it open - resisting the urge at 10 am to take a sip - and got to baking.  It was an easy cake to make, as most are.  Really just a dense and crumbly cake, using beer instead of milk or another liquid.  Honestly, I was a little worried that it wasn't coming together well as the batter was quite dry.  And maybe it isn't supposed to be?  But it resulted in a wonderful cake.

Shockingly, I also followed the recipe and used the remainder of the beer for the icing.  It is a basic whipped buttercream.  I know most people find buttercream to sweet, but I recommend it in this instance.  There is a good ratio of cake to icing, unlike many a famous purchased cupcake, and the sweetness of the icing is balanced out by the crumb of the cake.

And, in case you were wondering, you don't really taste the beer.  Trad is not a mild tasting beer, but it isn't a strong stout like a Guinness (which is what was called for in the initial recipe).  There was just a hint of bitterness to the cake, and not enough that The Monster or Hubby went, "Hey, what's in this?"  We all just happily ate our cake, patted our tummies, and laughed through another loud and crazy meal time.  A kitchen antidote for a long and stressful day.

Chocolate Beer Cake

(adapted from Chatelaine, March 2009)

1 1/2 cups flour

3/4 cocoa powder

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp salt

3/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup lightly packed brown sugar

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup beer

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degree F.  Spray two 8 inch round cake pans.

2. Sift flour with cocoa, baking powder, soda, salt into a bowl.  Stir to mix.

3.  Using an electric mixer beat the butter and sugar for a few minutes until fluffy.  Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Beat in vanilla.

4.  Stir about 1/3 of the dry ingredients into the butter mixture, add half of the beer.  Repeat the additions, ending with flour.  Stir until evenly mixed.  Pour batter into prepared pans.

5.  Bake in centre of oven for 25-28 minutes.  Cool in pans on rack for 10 minutes, then turn out to cool completely.

Chocolate Beer Icing

3 cups icing sugar

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1/2 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

1/3 cup beer (or milk)

1 tsp vanilla

pinch of salt

1.  Sift icing sugar with cocoa.

2.  In separate bowl beat butter until creamy.  Gradually beat in half the icing sugar.  Mixture will be dry.  Slowly add beer, vanilla and salt.  Add the remaining icing sugar.  Beat until well combined.

To ice the cake, slice off any bump from the top of the cake, making a flat top.  Place one cake on a plate or cake stand.  Spread a third of the icing on the cake.  Place remaining cake on top and gently press down.  Spread another third of the icing on top.  Then spread the remaining third of the icing on the sides of the cake.

Enjoy - with a glass of milk or maybe a scotch.  Oddly, a glass of beer doesn't seem to go well with a slice of this cake.

Friday Favourite - Salt

Hubby is addicted to salt.  Seriously.  Almost nothing is salted enough for him, he loves salt and vinegar chips, and actually licks his finger and dips it in the salt pig.  One Christmas I nearly bought him a salt lick as a joke, until I realized that I would be the one stuck finding a real home for it.  In true fatherly generosity he passed this love on to The Monster.

Daddy salts his food, she wants salt on her food.  Mama seasons the sauce, she has to season the sauce.  We've developed the fine art of faking it for her.  She is a wickedly smart girl, but somehow the motion of salting her food satisfies her, even if she doesn't see any salt crystals falling from our fingers.  We're either that tricky or she's only two.

With the past few weeks filled with a lot of sick days we've turned to baking as a way to keep her engaged and away from Yo Gabba Gabba (she is a child obsessed).  When she asked to bake cookies this week I inquired as to what kind.  

"Salt."

Yup, salt cookies.  In a freaky twist of fate, I had pulled out my Cook's Country cookbook and had it open to the cookie table of contents.  Wouldn't you know, they have a recipe for salty thin and crisp oatmeal cookies?  Considering it was a real recipe and all, I figured we had a better chance than last week, when she requested salt muffins.  In case you didn't know, salt as a crunchy topping on a banana muffin is okay, but not something I have a desire to repeat.  Salted oatmeal cookies are another matter entirely.

Crispy, thin, and with just a touch of salty crunch.  These are good cookies for people who don't like sweets.  Such a change from dense and chewy oatmeal cookies.  Equally delicious, and I'm not a big fan of salt.

Salted Oatmeal Cookies

(adapted from Cook's Country)

Makes 2.5-3 dozen cookies

1 cup flour

3/4 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp table or kosher salt

14 tbsp unsalted butter (2 tablespoons less than a cup)

1 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

1 large egg

1 tsp vanilla

2 1/2 cups rolled oats (not quick or instant)

fleur de sel or Maldon salt

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2.  In a medium bowl whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and 1/4 tsp salt.  Set aside.

3.  Beat together the butter and sugars  until fluffy.  Scrape down the bowl.  Add the egg and vanilla and beat until fully incorporated.  Slowly add the flour mixture until just blended, then stir in the oats until well mixed.

4.  Roll cookie dough into balls about 1.5 - 2 inches around.  Place them 8 to a cookie sheet and press down with your palm.  Cookies should be about 3/4 inch in thickness.

5.  Sprinkle with fleur de sel or Maldon salt, a generous pinch per cookie.

6.  Bake for 10-12 minutes until the cookies are spread out and lightly golden.  Let them cool completely on the cookie sheet.

On Apple Cake and Race

"What colour this, Mama?"

So asks The Monster on a regular occassion. She might be asking about the colour of a toy, a bird, a carrot, or a person. In all but the last case we hapily give her the answer in detail - aqua not blue, chartreuse not green (I am a quilter, after all). But when she asks about people I struggle to answer. I feel the weight of race relations on me. I feel like that moment will define how she approaches people who look different than her.

Yup, I know I'm over-thinking it. But on today, of all days, it's at the forefront of my thoughts. We watched a bit of my show - the inauguration - before she left for the day, after I convinced her to turn off Sesame Street, of course. Hubby and I tried to explain to her what was going on, but I think the significance was lost on a two and a half year old. But tonight we'll be reading stories and she'll ask me what colour Dick and Jane are and then what colour are Pam and Penny.

Hubby is straightforward about things, but I'm not comfortable with that. He and I debate over the best approach. We were both raised without much of an issue over race. Here in Western Canada we just don't have the race issues of the US, at least as we see it. It is a product of our own suburban upbringings and the exposure to so many cultures along the way. I prefer to focus on exploring cultural differences, rather than race. But that still doesn't answer the Monster's questions.

And when I cook her coconut curry or spaghetti and meatballs or pierogies or suya she will learn about the world in a way that our travel budget just doesn't allow. Will that teach her about race and different cultures? Perhaps. But in the coming eight years both our girls will grow up with the memory of their first US President and not even understand what the big deal is.

To change the topic slightly, I've been thinking about what it would be like to live in the White House as a young family. What if Michelle and Barack want to make pancakes for breakfast? What if Malia and Sasha want to bake cookies? Is there a special family kitchen in the White House? There must be, otherwise it would feel like living in a hotel. That's got to wear on anyone.

I'm hoping to keep tabs on things by faithfully reading Obama Foodorama. And today, in honour of the inauguration I'm baking this apple cake. It isn't the recipe from the luncheon, but it looks beautiful and honours the food of the day.

Christmas Morning

Certain traditions cannot be shelved in the name of vacation. Sadly, we didn't chop down a tree this year. Hands down, tree chopping is my favourite part of the year. Coming in a very close second is the Christmas Tree Bun.

Originating in Hubby's family (thanks Susan) the Christmas Tree Bun is a sweet bread dough, formed into this cute tree. Drizzled with icing and rainbow sprinkles it serves as a carrier for the all important honey butter. Mimosas, sausage, and bacon on the side.

On the now rare occasions where the A clan gets together for Christmas morning, er... noon hour, we have to sit through the gift-opening to get to the Tree Bun. After the kids have torn through their gifts and we adults opened our present from Susan we have to wait for Susan to finish opening all the presents her friends and family send her. We aren't very patient with her, to be honest, as she stops her opening to chat and watch the kids. Yes, they are cute and the excitement is contagious, but we need her to finish in order to eat. And eat is what we want to do.

When Hubby and I spent our first Christmas alone in the new city - five years ago! - the only thing he asked for was Christmas Tree Bun. We sat in our dining room, devouring bread with honey butter and downing mimosas. I think people got a few tipsy phone calls that morning. Ah, the days before kids. The tradition carries on, minus all the champagne.

I would share the recipe, but I don't think I am allowed - until my daughters are married off and then, only to their partners. But pick your favourite soft or sweet bread recipe and form it into buns to rise. Bake together and enjoy.

This year we are off to Mexico for two weeks, with my family. While I can make no promises regarding rainbow sprinkles I do intend to bake on Christmas morning, 30 degree C weather be damned!

Have a Merry Christmas to all who celebrate. We'll see you in a few weeks.

Christmas Baking Done and Delivered

We made a few things in our house the past few weeks. Nothing fancy, but some homemade treats to share with neighbours, the daycare, and some friends. I wanted to make more, but The Monster was sick and baking wasn't high on our list of things to do.

That still left us with some very yummy results. There was my peppermint bark, cherry vanilla biscotti, sugar cookies dusted with vanilla sugar, and my all-time favourite cookie for Christmas - chewy chocolate gingerbread. I think The Monster agrees with me already.

There are few recipes in all the magazines I read that capture me as much as this one. Good ol' Martha. I've been making them for 10 years now. And it's no wonder that she chose them for the cover of the Cookies cookbook, where the recipe is repeated. I've done nothing to change the recipe, so I won't repeat it here (check out the link above). But I encourage you to go out and make them - right now.

We are currently a nut free household, so my childhood faves are still off-limits. Rugelah and something called Christmas Jewels were the treats that graced our table for dessert on Christmas Eve, along with shortbread and so much more. I'm hoping that our nut allergy potential is proven wrong in time and I can introduce these to the girls.

For now, I am phenomenally happy with the sugar cookies. I tried Martha's recipe and this year it just did not work. Maybe I was overtired when I mixed them up and missed some flour. I'm not sure, but I ended up throwing out the entire batch, what I baked and the rest of the dough after I gave up - an entire pound of butter all said and done. I remembered Julie posting about them after her adventures in Jasper and tried her recipe. Oh. My. Gawd. Fantastic. Nearly as good as these ones, but homemade.

I changed Julie's recipe only in delivery. Rather than roll them into balls and press them down I pressed the dough into a rectangle, sprinkled them with vanilla sugar, and cut out squares. The dough is quite soft, so I thought this would work better. Besides, I already had round cookies and wanted variety.

It was back to Julie for the biscotti as well. I used her basic recipe and added my own flavourings. There were dried cherries in the house so I chopped them up, used vanilla sugar, and doubled the vanilla extract. It would have been preferable to use a vanilla bean, but there were none in the house. As a final touch, I drizzled some melted bittersweet chocolate on top.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to deliver our treats to daycare as The Monster was in no condition for play and company. That means another round of baking in the New Year. I'm sure the girls there will be in no mood for baking in January, but I have a lot of butter and flour to get through. Truth be told, we never need a reason to bake in this house. But I am sure glad we have people we can share with.

Tragedy

It was a sad day in the kitchen a few weeks ago. With an accidental bump of my wrist while turning on the oven I also turned on a burner on the stove. To maximum. Dinner was cooking away in the oven, and I may have had rice on another burner. We could smell the burning, we opened a window (one day we'll have a hood fan), and we checked inside the oven for crusty bits maybe burning on the dirty floor. Did we drop something on a burner? After about twenty minutes I finally noticed the smoke rising up from the cookie sheet.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

This was the cookie sheet and Silpat Hubby bought me to avoid buying me a new oven. I was sick of burning cookies on my old cookie sheets and I blamed the oven. So he bought me these instead. I have to say that it really helped. I still wish I had a new oven, but I settled for buying two new cookie sheets and Silpats last week. Just in time for christmas baking.

The Emotional Eater

The perfect brownie can make anyone feel better. I've been feeling the need to eat a lot of brownies lately. Not that I need more things brown in my life, what with the mud flat currently surrounding the house. And the mud piles in the backyard and the muddy paw prints and footprints littered over the hardwood... But these brownies really do make you feel better.

They are dense yet still a bit cakey. They are fudgy but not heavy. They are a hug in a square crumbly package. With a glass of milk at lunchtime or a stiff scotch at bedtime they fill you with love. Sure I have a great Hubby and the girls can do that too, but the perfect brownie is just for me.

It's hard to not feel better when you start with chocolate and butter. Seriously, not much gets better than that, on their own or melted together in fantastic richness. I need to make them without the Monster around or else she takes them both and messes up my measurements.

Okay, maybe it's not just her who snitches tastes along the way... Somehow it is naughty when I dip my finger to lick the chocolate, and just messy and fun when the Monster does it.

When all is said and done and the oven brings out the chocolate scent the hugs begin. It is almost painful to wait for them to bake and cool. Warm brownies are more fudgy, but I prefer them cool and dense. A good brownie can make you feel comforted and warm, a bad one leaves you cold and cranky.

About 13 years ago I worked at a health food store with a bakery in it. Beyond the granola and ultra-healthy food, we specialized in items for people with restricted diets. At one point that summer the chef and I took on a mission to create a healthy brownie. We tried multiple substitutions like carob for chocolate, fake eggs, brown rice syrup, and more. None of them worked. This was before some good gluten free recipes were readily available. Eventually we decided that we would go back to basics and make a recipe with real food - butter, eggs, chocolate, brown sugar, and unbleached flour. This was before the slow food movement or Michael Pollan. You know what? They were amazing brownies! Sadly I lost the recipe in the post-university moves.

After experimenting with many recipes I finally found The One. It never fails me, it's fast, has only a few ingredients, and results in a perfect brownie. The recipe comes from a cookbook I picked up on a trip to New York. Broke and spending an afternoon with a quilting friend in Brooklyn I picked up The Brooklyn Cookbook. Really just a hardcover community cookbook, the book is filled with personal anecdotes and recipes from locals. The perfect brownie comes from this book.

What makes a bad brownie? To me that means anything that is not chocolate related inside. No nuts for me, I hate the sudden change in texture when you bite into a brownie with nuts. I don't like glaze or icing because it changes the mouthfeel. On a cupcake yes, but not on a brownie. I've added chocolate chips, even mint ones, and raspberries before, but it's not my favourite. Just a plain, simple brownie, thank-you.

The Perfect Brownie

(adapted from The Brooklyn Cookbook)


4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1/2 cup unsalted butter
3 eggs
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup flour

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease an 8 inch square baking pan.
2. Melt the chocolate and butter together in a bowl set over a pan of simmering water. When melted set aside and let the mixture cool.
3. Beat the eggs with the salt until foamy. Gradually add the sugar and vanilla, beating until the mixture is creamy. Quickly stir in the cooled chocolate mixture, then the flour. If you are going to add anything like chocolate chips or nuts (!) this is the time to do it.
4. Pour into the greased baking pan and bake for 20-25 minutes, until the center is set but still a bit giggley. Cool before cutting.

Backseat Adventure - Glamorgan Bakery

When you return to the memory of tastes it is easy to be disappointed. Too often the memory is linked heavily to the event or the circumstances of the taste. The brioche aren’t as rich as they seemed when they were a luxury in your days with a limited student budget. The meringue cookies you cherished on your bakery visits are more sweet than blandly crisp, more cloying than any adult should enjoy. Then there are the dinners, marked by romance, birthdays, or trips that can never be replicated. But sometimes, just sometimes, something is as good as you remember.

My brother-in-law, B, and I had this discussion over the weekend. A birthday present for my mother-in-law brought Hubby’s family to Banff for a weekend of eating and laughing at the children, with some swims and a hike thrown in. With a need to get my girls out of the house I decided to take them to Glamorgan Bakery, to stock up on B’s favourite cheese buns for the weekend.

Glamorgan Bakery is a Calgary institution. Since 1977 the owners have been churning out buttery goodness to Southwest Calgary. Hubby’s family grew up a relatively short bike ride away and took advantage of that quite regularly. It wasn’t until B and his then girl-friend and now my preggo-sister-in-law came to visit us shortly after we moved that I was properly introduced.

All I can remember B talking about was the cheese bun. How it was filled with cheese and butter to such an extent that the bread dough involved seemed superfluous. For a man who practically survives on any variety of cheese on bread – pizza, grilled cheese, melted cheese on bread dipped in ketchup – the Glamorgan Bakery cheese bun was his idea of perfection.

Then came the sugar cookies. We came for the cheese buns and we will return again and again for the sugar cookies. He says that he remembers eating them as a child, although I find that hard to believe because my mother-in-law is a fantastic baker. But then, fueled by a childhood memory, he went back to bakery and tried the sugar cookies, . Shockingly, they were better than he even remembered.

The Monster was enthralled by the selection of the bakery -colorful cupcakes, the overwhelming scent of butter and chocolate, and too much selection in the cookie department. I went straight to the counter for the cheese buns and she went straight to the sugar cookies. More precisely, the brightly coloured dinosaur cookies. How can you say no to a happy 2 year old? She got her cookie, promptly sat down on the floor, and took a bite. And then another and another. Two men were enjoying their coffee at the tiny counter for that purpose, oblivious to the joy of a sugar fueled toddler at their feet.

The dinosaur cookie was bigger than the Monster could handle so sadly I had to help her finish it. Let me rephrase that, I thought the cookie was too big and too good so I forced her to share it with me. Seriously, these are the best sugar cookies I’ve ever had. Not so much cookie as sweet butter that someone like Ferran Adria or Heston Blumenthal decided to serve in a crispy form. So I went back yesterday and bought more. Some for me and some for a girlfriend who was hosting us for tea in the afternoon as Little Miss Sunshine and I escaped the mess at home. By the time I got to her house the butter had stained the brown paper bag they came in and one cookie was missing. Good thing I bought more for dessert.

Eating Injury and Recovery

Barring a bizarre accident with a sharp knife and raw chicken, feeding your kids should not cause you injury or illness. Or so I thought. It seems that this nursing mama has developed mastitis. Fun times.

In order to give myself a chance to recover from my fourth illness (and definitely the worst) in the last month I decided to call in reinforcements. My mom came down for a few days to help us out. Today she made turkey stock from the Thanksgiving carcass, cleaned up my garden (which she planted in the first place after Little Miss Sunshine was born), took the Monster for walks, and baked cookies. Yum, cookies.
Okay, so I posted an oatmeal cookie recipe last week but these are amazing. Soft and chewy but with a little bit of crunch. Nutty without any nuts. Sweet without being cloying. Mom created the recipe after we tried some from a vendor at the St. Albert Farmers' Market a few years ago. That market is only open for a few months, so we needed to recreate them in order to continue the yummy love. After a few tries she came up with this recipe - even better than the original.

My theory is that you could make it with less sugar, but they aren't nearly as sweet as you think they might be. When I make them for myself I think I will try it with only a cup of sugar.

When it comes to your seeds, make sure they are fresh. Poppyseeds can go rancid easily when stored, so check any that you use before you stir them in. With regard to the pumpkin seeds, you can go with raw ones as well - with no change in flavour. Today we used roasted, salted ones because those are the most common ones found in the grocery store. We found the salted ones make no difference to the taste either.

Birdseed Cookies
(makes about 4 dozen)

1 cup butter
1 1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/2 cups flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 cups rolled oats
3/4 cup sunflower seeds
3/4 cup roasted pumpkin seeds
1/4 cup flax seed
1/4 cup poppy seeds
1/2 cup finely chopped dates
1/2 cup chopped dried cranberries

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
2. Cream butter and sugar together.
3. Add eggs and mix well. Mix in vanilla.
4. In a separate bowl stir together the flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Slowly add to the butter mixture.
5. Add oats and mix until just combined.
6. In a separate bowl combine the sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, flax seeds, poppyseeds, dates, and dried cranberries. Stir into the cookie mixture until well combined.
7. With wet hands roll a heaping tablespoon of dough into a ball. Alternatively, use a small ice cream scoop to form balls. Press down slightly on the cookies.
8. Bake for 8-10 minutes until lightly browned.

Despair is Setting In

My lunch just consisted of tea and cookies. Just that, nothing else.

As happy as I am about the cookies, however, there is a little bit of sadness in our house today. We're out of maple syrup. Between the cookies and the baked beans I made for dinner - and the numerous breakfast of waffles over the past year - we finally polished off the 2 Litres of maple syrup we bought on vacation last autumn.

My love of maple syrup means I could never be a true locovore. Sure, I've tried birch syrup, saskatoon, and even made my own blackcurrent syrup. None of it compares to the simple maple goodness of a rich maple syrup. I've tried to describe the taste, but failed. You can only taste it for yourself and be enveloped by that golden brown elixir of the forest.

I love it so much that I pushed for our first dog to be named Maple - and won. (The other dog is Buster.)

In the morning, as the Monster's waffles are cooking she is asked if she wants syrup or jam. Well, that's not entirely true. Hubby always puts raspberry jam on them because that's what he likes. I usually ask, and she always picks syrup. And when I started being specific about it being maple syrup she started responding, "No, Buster Syrup!"

With the days getting shorter at an alarming rate it is tough to make it to the park after dinner. And when Hubby is out of town, as he is this week, I try to stay home in the evenings to save my sanity. Oddly, baking cookies with the Monster is generally a sanity saving activity. I just have to keep her hands out of the mixing bowl while it is turned on because she so desperately wants to lick the batter.

I pulled out my the last of my Sugar Moon Farm syrup, my Highwood Crossing Oats, and the jumbo pack of chocolate chips (we were out of raisins). We mixed, she poured, we snuck chocolate chips, and we baked. She obviously liked the batter too because that paddle was licked like it just came out of the dishwasher. And when she was done she announced that she was going to eat her hands as well. It was all I could do to keep her occupied with a dizzying amount of Ring-Around-The-Rosie while the cookies cooled so she didn't burn her tongue.

After years of testing recipes and getting used to the crappy oven that came with the house I finally got an oatmeal cookie recipe that makes my heart happy. I can't lay claim to anything original about it, other than using less coconut than called for last night because I ran out. Martha strikes again. When I found this cookie recipe I had to try it. Not shockingly, it was a clear winner for me. Even if it takes away from my precious maply syrup supply.

I do have a call in to Sugar Moon to see if they will ship to me. Maybe if I get the Monster to say please in her tiny but emphatic voice with a drawn out plea they will say yes...

Oatmeal Raisin/Chocolate Chip Cookies
(slightly adapted from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook)

1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup sweetened, shredded coconut
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/3 pure maple syrup
1 large egg
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 1/2 cups raisins/chocolate chips/dried apricots/dried cherries or any combination

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
2. In a bowl whisk together the flour, cinnamon, baking soda, and salt. Stir in the coconut. Set aside.
3. Cream together the butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy. Add the maple syrup and mix well to combine.
4. Add the egg and vanilla, beating well. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as necessary.
5. Slowly add the flour mixture to the butter mixture. When combined add the oats and raisin/chocolate chips.
6. Form 1 tbsp in a ball and place on a greased/line cookie sheet.
7. Bake for 10-12 minutes.

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.