Magical Thinking, A Scone Recipe

easy cranberry scone recipeSome rather grandiose dreams spring to life from the enjoyment of a single morsel. At least, that’s how it works in this odd little brain of mine. One really good bite and an aspiring career is launched, imaginary restaurants are born, and desired franchises are launched.

Maybe you experience magical thinking, too?

It starts with a recipe and technique.  You’ve worked on perfecting a particular food item for a long while and then, after much effort, art and science come together and make magic on the plate.

You regard what you created. You feel satisfied and proud. (And maybe a little bit hungry.)  You take a bite. Your senses sparkle with excitement. Your mouth enlivens with activity. Neurons fire with glee.

Then, maybe a few moments later, someone across from you–a loved one or a cherished friend who joins you in this special meal–remarks “wow, this is really good.” Your beloved might continue and say something that stokes the fires of imagination even more with something inflammatory like the words “this is restaurant quality,” or “I’d pay good money for this.”

And then that’s it. Your pride rallies. Your over-active imagination kicks into high gear.

You picture the scenarios: you’ll start your own business, open a little bakery or a restaurant, begin a little catering company, quit your job, and do this thing you love so much for a living. You’ll cook, inspire, and change lives with a perfect scone, a great sandwich, a mouth watering steak, the perfect poached egg or an extraordinary dessert.

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Greater Than, Less Than

philosophy of infinite
In the equation of life, I liked to put myself on the gaping side of the greater than symbol. To be greater than was the only option I could fathom. It was the strongest position to play. I was an army of one. I was the captain of my destiny. I was greater than any challenge. Should the test or dispute be too great for me, I ran from it. That’s why I avoided baking for so long. I walked away from the possibility of being less than a fallen cake, less than a dense loaf of bread, or less than a failed dessert.

easy pastry dough recipe with whole wheat flour

But then I decided to do things a little differently. I started to run towards my fear. When I got too scared, I began to say so and ask for help.  I might be strong, but I’m not bigger than the world around me. By admitting my weaknesses and owning up to my vulnerability rather than running away from it, I began to perceive the world in a new way. I started to see my life change. And not just in little ways. I stopped looking at fear as a closed door or a finite choice of NO, and began regarding fear as the gateway to the infinite possibility of YES.

It’s almost funny how I used to approach baking. I would reverse brag, and talk myself down about my inability to make a crust. I’d tell fictional tales based on fears about how I was constitutionally incapable of putting flour and butter together to create anything that resembled pastry. And yet, just the other day, I did just that.

All it took was a little whole wheat and unbleached all-purpose flours, sugar, salt, egg, milk, butter, fruit and a large dose of confidence. The result: a mixed wheat crust that’s earthy, light, and agrodolce (sweet and sour) from the balance of sweet berries and tart rhubarb. One slice to my friends and they rolled their eyes with delight because I proved myself wrong. I CAN bake. I do have the power to transfer love and comfort to their belly through something as beautiful as a Rhubarb and Mixed Berry Crostata.

I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised by the cascading changes that are happening. These little efforts are beginning to add up to something bigger. Ever since I commenced dealing with the core basics (flour, water, perspective, etc.), everything else has followed.

Facing my fear of baking (and everything else in between) is a pivot point that’s bringing about wide and sweeping transformation. With every crostata, each tea cake, and all the baked goods I pull from my oven I can feel my perspective shift from a finite point of view to one that’s much more infinite.

In a simple word I say “YES”, yes to the infinite possibility of it all.

whole wheat crostata with rhubarb and berries

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Rhubarb and Mixed Fruit Crostata

Based on a recipe published in Bon Appetit by Karen DeMasco, Locanda Verde
8-10 servings, depending on how you cut it

Crust

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

½ cup whole wheat flour

1 ½ tbsp sugar

½ tsp kosher salt

1 ½ sticks chilled, unsalted butter. Cubed.

1 large egg

1 tbsp whole milk

Filling

¼ cup cornstarch

3 cups ½” thick sliced rhubarb

1 small container of raspberries

1 cup sliced strawberries

2/3 cup sugar

1 large egg, beaten

Raw sugar or Turbinado sugar for finishing

For the crust:

Combine the flours, sugar, and salt in a processor. Blend for 6 seconds. Add butter and pulse until it is broken down into pea-sized pieces. Whisk egg and milk in a small bowl; add the mixture to the processor and pulse until moist clumps form. Gather the dough into a round ball and then flatten into a disk. Cover with plastic wrap and chill for at least 1 ½ hours. This dough can be made up to two days ahead.

For the filling:

In a small bowl, dissolve the cornstarch in 3 tbsp of water; set aside. Combine the fruit, rhubarb and sugar in a heavy saucepan. Cook over medium heat. Stir often while the sugar dissolves and the fruit juices are released, about 4 minutes. Stir in cornstarch liquid and bring to a boil (rhubarb will not be tender and will not be broken down). Transfer mixture to a bowl. Chill until cool, about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400˚. Roll out dough onto floured parchment paper until it reaches a 12″ round. Brush the dough with beaten egg. Mound the filling in the center of the crust and gently spread it out, leaving enough of a border for you to fold back the edges to form a crust. Gently fold back the edges (about an inch or more) over filling; pleat as necessary. Side parchment with crostata onto a large rimmed baking sheet and bake until the crust is golden brown and the filling bubbly, about 45 minutes. Let crostata cool on a baking rack. Cut into wedges.

Serve as a breakfast snack or, for a fancy dessert, add whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

 

 

Ascension and Getting over the Fear of Baking

getting over the fear of baking coffee cake
This is one of a series of essays dealing with my totally unrational fear of baking

Ever since Easter and Passover weekend I’ve been thinking a lot about the world ascension. The word has been looping dramatic arcs through my psyche ever since I took one of those deep, restorative, midday naps last weekend. For over an hour I took in the sleep of the dead. It was the kind of rest that soothes, calms, and heals the wounds of hard work.

When I awoke from my unconscious state, I found my refreshed mind chewing on a single word: Ascension. “Ascension,” my internal voice said to me. “Look it up.”

Though I was happy to go about my day and avoid the quiet nudge, the word wasn’t giving up on me. My mind looped: ascension, ascension, ascension. What was it about this word that needed so much attention? Ascension, ascension, ascension. The sound of the word grew louder and louder until I couldn’t resist its call any longer.

Finally, I surrendered. I gave over to a word.

Well, I mostly surrendered. Rather than commit to a full-fledged literary investigation that included the involvement of a certain large and weighted Webster’s Dictionary that lives on my bookshelf, I instead turned to my computer’s succinct internal dictionary. According to Encarta’s World English dictionary, ascension is not a word that’s included in the basic software. So, as an alternative, I turned to ascend for clues.

I was reminded that ascend means to climb up something, to succeed, and also means to rise up to a higher level.  A mountain, a career, a situation, the physical life, or anything else that offers a good challenge can be ascended. A man named Jesus is said to have ascended from death on Easter day. Perhaps this is why the word came to me with such a force. It was just Easter weekend, after all.

But ascension isn’t a word that’s limited to mountain climbers and people of faith. Ascension can be used by all sorts of English speaking people who may or may not believe in the existence of God.  So what does ascension have to do with me right now?

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Foodbuzz 24×24: A Tasty Care Package for Kids

easy care package food
Sending a care package to kids can be fun and healthy

Not everyone has children of their own, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be plenty of great kids in your life. Nieces and nephews, best friends’ kids, and neighborhood rug rats can all be part of your life. Though I’m married, I don’t have children. But between my brother and my husband’s two brothers, I have four nieces and four nephews who own a nice chunk of real-estate in our hearts. The problem is, I live several thousand miles away from those beautiful eight kids. Sure, Skype is great for capturing the magic of face-to-face conversation, and photos keep me up to date on their newest growth spurt, but I’m the kind of aunt that wants to cook for her nieces and nephews.

nieces and nephews
Snapshot of some of my family from back east

That’s where care packages come in. Just because I live thousands of miles away doesn’t mean I can’t cook for your family. An old-fashioned care package gives my far-away family members a tangible treasure from my west-coast world. Ship a box of food and treasured objects to a loved one and—like our ancestors did before us—the beloved recipient gets a precious treasure to cherish and/or devour.

A care package is like magic: what was once with us is now with them.

care package
My nieces say: “What’s in the box?”

Distance Cooking

Perhaps this is why I’m glad I was selected to be one of this month’s cooking for kids Foodbuzz 24×24–a sponsored event that brings together twenty-four food bloggers from around the world to write about a particular topic. I knew that my perspective on cooking for kids would be much, much different than a full time mom or grandparent.

As a full time professional and childless married person, the only option I have for baking for kids is when I put together care packages for friends and family. Since I’m a food person, putting together homemade treats for a care package is a great way for me to share my love of food and for my faraway family. Granted, I wish I had more time and money to hop a plane and go visit, but putting together a care package is a good alternative.

So if you are considering putting together your own care package for young friends or family, here are some things to think about:

Choose healthy ingredients (whole grains, dried fruit, nuts, and natural sweeteners)

Choose recipes for items that store well for a few days. This is especially important when shipping an item far distances.

Baked items like granola, fruit or nut bars, hearty cookies, and jellies are all great treats that will ship well if packaged well.

Choose baked items that don’t weigh a lot. Shipping heavy jars filled with goodies may look cute, but the more an item weighs the more it will cost to ship.

Choose a shipping company you trust.

Food Care Package
What could be in the box?

Continue for Great Care Package Recipes for Kids »

Caramel Pork Banh Mi

how to make pork banh mi

Certain foods elicit recollections of childhood, others conjure up the essence of loved ones. Rare though, is a flavor so particular and influential, the act of consuming it has the power to alter the course of the eater’s life. Turning point foods are those that not only evoke an eater to remember, it defines the eater. So it is for me with Banh Mi.

I never expected a spicy Vietnamese sandwich called Banh Mi, would have the power to delineate my life. And yet, the simple and ultimately complex sandwich—the result of a tumultuous relationship between the French and the native Viets—has lead me to a whole new culinary realm and brought me significant friendships I will cherish forever.

My first taste of Banh Mi was a wake up call from the fiery spirit of a Vietnamese muse. I was living in New York City during a sweltering summer and working as a General Manager and consultant for a soon-to-open restaurant under construction in the Lower East Side. Despite the fact that I was new to the vibrant city, and lived in the heart of a new food mecca (Katz’s Deli, Russ and Daughters, Stanton Social), I lost myself to 16-18 hour work days. Rather than cherishing the opportunity to experience a new city, I poured myself into every passing minute at the restaurant. I was missing everything.

That’s when Banh Mi stepped in to kick my ass.

Continue for the full Vietnamese Caramel Pork Banh Mi Recipe »

A Luddite Gets Over Fear of Technology (and Baking)

Nissu, Chai Tea, Cardamom, Saveur Magazine recipe

I shouldn’t be so surprised by my fear of advanced food technology in my home kitchen. I come from a long line of starving artists that have—for generations—spent their money to pursue their art, rather than feather their home with modern gear. My people—the poet, the angry writer, the famous illustrator and writer, the sculptor, the painter, the silversmith—weren’t interested in a gourmet life. They were artists that ate what they could afford and stocked their kitchens with simple items like rolling pins and cast iron skillets, jelly jar glasses and chipped china

And so it is with me. I’ve built my life around writing and food, and yet my kitchen lacks any sign of modern gourmet trends. I don’t own a microwave or a food processor. I hand whip my whipped cream, muddle herbs with a mortar and pestle, and generally do things the old fashioned way.

It wasn’t until I decided to face two fears at once—baking and technology–that I was able to attempt to make Saveur Magazine‘s recipe for a traditional Finnish sweet bread, called Pulla, with my brand new (and untouched) KitchenAid. Even though I’ll be working at the restaurant this Easter/Passover weekend, I thought I should do some culinary celebrating before hand.

It’s fitting that it took a recipe reminiscent of my grandmother’s signature Finnish sweet bread to get me over my fear of the KitchenAid and pastry making.  Like me, she was a hard working artist and Luddite. But rather than relishing in the joys of cooking savory, she loved creating Finnish pastry, flaky pies, and fruit cobblers–all from the belly of a four-footed kettle stove that ran on firewood.The promise of freshly ground cardamom and the scent of freshly baked bread was the thing I needed to motivate me to up my game, embrace the “on” switch, and start baking.

Continue for Finnish Pulla Bread Recipe »

Favorite Holiday Foods: A Recipe for Finnish Sweet Bread

Ever since I was a little girl, Christmas morning always began with freshly toasted Nisu, a Finnish sweet bread, slathered in soft butter. My grandmother, Hilja, would put on a pot of tea and while she toasted thick slices of the spiced sweet bread for the family. Though the idea of opening gifts had us giddy, the smell of Grammie’s Nisu could entice us away from our presents and have us running to the kitchen for a fresh a bite of this special sweet bread.

Nisu, a Finnish sweet bread, is braided and blonde like a Finnish girl’s hair. The sweet bread (also called Pulla) is flavored with freshly ground cardamom and a touch of sugar. Every holiday my grandmother would bake us a loaf and smuggle it into the house and hide it, so that the family wasn’t tempted to tear into it before Christmas morning. The braided loaf is soft, like a delicate challah bread, but sweet and perfumed with the exotic flavors of cardamom. Of all the breads I’ve tasted, no other uses cardamom in such an intoxicating way.

Though it’s been almost a decade since I left my family home in Gloucester, Massachusetts (the town where my Finnish ancestors settled), I have never lost the taste for Nisu.

Continue For a Family Nisu Bread Recipe »