Years ago, I saw a cartoon in a women’s magazine. In the frame were two girls aged about 5 or 6, facing each other.
Girl One (self-satisfied smile on her face): My mommy lets me eat candy every day.
Girl Two: (scowling): That’s not candy, stupid. That’s broccoli.
Girl One (crushed): You mean. . . broccoli isn’t candy?
I remember thinking, Ah, if only parents could convince their kids to eat broccoli that easily!
Even though I don’t have kids of my own (“What do you mean, Mum? Aren’t we your kids?”), I’ve come to realize from being with my cousins’ and friends’ children that kids can have some pretty idiosyncratic eating habits indeed.
Way back in high school biology class, we learned that children’s taste buds are much more attuned to sweet tastes than are adult’s taste buds. So flavors that appeal to a child (I’m thinking Froot Loops, Jawbreakers, chocolate-covered marshmallows) can be cringe-inducing and lip-puckeringly sweet to a grown-up. In addition, we tend to develop tastes for things as adults that we wouldn’t get close to as kids (artichokes, anyone? Or how about avocados? And I’m still amazed that I could have ever hated coconut!).
I’ll never forget visiting with my friend T’s family when I was around six. Every weekend in the summer, T’s parents would lug me along with their brood to their country house up in the Laurentians. It was basically a big box made out of wood with a stove on one end and a sofa on the other; T and I slept up in the attic, which we loved, as if afforded us our own private bunkhouse where we’d occasionally retreat during the day as well, to escape T’s bratty younger brother, M.
One morning as we made our way down the ladder for breakfast, I spied T’s mother carrying out what looked like contorted performance art, flapping her elbow as she swirled a butter knife inside the peanut butter jar. When I asked what she was doing, she replied, “Well, M will only eat peanut butter from a new jar, with a smooth, fresh surface on top. So before he wakes up every morning,” (and with this, she smiled at me conspiratorially), I smooth it out for him so he’ll think it’s new.” Even at age six, I remember thinking, “Wow, that is an awful lot of work just to convince a snotty-nosed four year-old to eat peanut butter.”
My friend Babe’s daughter, on the other hand, refuses to consume any kind of pasta dish but one: a specialty they call ”Aunty K’s Pasta,” a basic butter-and-cheese macaroni that her aunt prepares at home and delivers to Babe’s house once a week. Babe then rewarms the pasta and serves it alongside whatever she’s made for dinner that night.
My own peculiar childhood culinary proclivities ran the gamut from cutting my mom’s homemade hamburgers into tiny, bite-sized pieces, then burying them in the accompanying mound of mashed potatoes before I’d scoop up the whole mess, forkful by forkful (even back then, it seems, I didn’t want to see meat on my plate!); to casting out coconut (see above), to eschewing cheese cake (crazy, I know), to filling my chicken soup with so many crushed soda crackers that it resembled gruel more than soup; to spurning strawberry ice cream.
In fact, I hated any kind of fruit at all in ice cream in those days, but strawberry was by far the worst offender. Chocolate was my one and only flavor of choice, and it was all I ever ordered when we were lucky enough to be taken to the local ice cream parlor. As the years went by, I broadened my scope a wee bit and would occasionally ask for Double Chocolate Chip (chocolate with a side of chocolate chips); Chocolate Swirl (chocolate with a side of chocolate sauce); or Heavenly Hash (chocolate with a side of chocolate chips, chocolate sauce and chocolate brownie bits). Basically, it was all chocolate, all the time.
As it turned out, my dad’s favorite ice cream was Neapolitan, with its equal stripes of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry; I had to make do. My tactic was to remove the entire box from the freezer, allow it to soften somewhat, then scrape along the outside edges of the chocolate and vanilla stripes, leaving the pink pariah virtually untouched. Eventually, I’d eat almost all of the other two flavors, leaving a slightly melty mound of strawberry in the center surrounded by a kind of moat all around it, like those abandoned sand castles you see on the beach that were washed over by the tide a few times.
I’m glad to say that these days, my tastes in ice cream range far and wide (though a quick glance at this blog’s Recipe Index does suggest a heavy emphasis on chocolate-basedice creams). Today’s recipe is one I developed for the Sweet Victory cleanse, and it’s been a huge hit here in the DDD household. Of its dense, creamy texture, The HH remarked, ”It’s like a really good quality ice cream.” And one of the Sweet Victory participants wrote, “I loved the caramel ice cream (sort of like magic…I can’t figure how that combination turns into caramel, but it does). ”
In other words, don’t let the odd mix of ingredients here deter you. This really does taste like caramel! And topped with the warm cinnamon-apple mix, it’s like pure comfort in a bowl. Of course, if you prefer not to combine your caramel with apples (or if you happen to have some fussy kids at home), just leave it off and have the ice cream on its own. Or add a handful of chocolate chips, or some chocolate sauce, or brownie bits. . . you know you just can’t go wrong with chocolate.
“Mum, that ice cream sounds great and all, but what do you mean, broccoli isn’t candy? Next thing you’ll be telling us is that sweet potatoes aren’t meat!”
Caramel Ice Cream with Apple-Cinnamon Topping (No Ice Cream Maker Required!)
Adorned with a swirl of cinnamony-apple filling, this ice cream is a perfect melding of caramel and fruit. If you prefer to leave out the apple, this is delicious on its own, too, or stir in some coarsely chopped chocolate or carob chips just before serving.
For the Caramel Ice Cream:
1 cup (155 g or 5.5 oz) raw cashews
1 cup (240 ml) sweet potato purée (I use homemade, from baked sweet potatoes, but I’m sure canned would be fine)
1 cup (240 ml) full-fat coconut milk (I use organic Thai Kitchen )
2/3 cup (160 ml) unsweetened plain or vanilla soy, almond or rice milk
Prepare the ice cream: Set 9 silicone liners in a muffin pan and set aside, or line an 8 inch (20 cm) square pan with waxed paper and set aside.
Place all ingredients in a high-powered blender and blend until smooth. You may need to scrape down the sides a few times. Divide evenly among the muffin liners or pour into the pan. [Note: if you'd rather use an ice cream maker, simply pour the mixture into it at this point and follow manufacturer's directions.]
If using the muffin liners, freeze until firm, 5-6 hours, then peel off the silicone cups and place the disks in a sealed plastic bag or container in the freezer. Pour into silicone cupcake liners and freeze; peel away liners and store the disks in a ziploc bag in the freezer. If using the pan, freeze just until firm, 2-3 hours. Invert on a cutting board, peel off the waxed paper, and cut the square into 9 equal pieces. Place the pieces in a sealed plastic bag or container in the freezer.
Make the apple topping: Place all ingredients in a small pot over medium-low heat. Once the water is bubbling, lower heat to simmer, cover, and cook until apples are completely soft and all the liquid is absorbed, 30-40 minutes, stirring frequently. Once the desired texture is achieved, remove from heat and allow to cool. Store in a covered container in the refrigerator until ready to use. Makes enough for 4-6 servings of ice cream.
When ready to make the ice cream, remove one disk or square per person. Cut each disk or square into 3-4 smaller pieces and place in the bowl of a food processor. Process until smooth (the pieces will break up and resemble crumbs before they start to come together in a ball), then press down with a rubber spatula and process briefly once more until smooth. Scoop out into serving dishe and top with desired amount of apple topping. Makes a total of 9 small or 6 large servings (for large servings, use 1-1/2 disks or squares per serving). Will keep, frozen, for up to 3 months.
The quaint old notion of friends “dropping in” for a visit seems to have disappeared somewhere around the same time as shoulder pads, Eight Tracks, or Electric Light Orchestra.
When I was a child, my mother and her friends would pop over to each other’s homes at a moment’s notice, stopping by without any embellishment (never any makeup, and sometimes still in their slippers and “housedresses,” which were basically just glorified pyjamas). Because, after all, it was just mom and the kids, and for whom would they need to get all decked out, anyway, if the men weren’t around?
In those days, people lived closer together, women were friends with their neighbors, coffee was always on, and there was invariably something home-baked on the counter. Mom’s best friend–who also happened to be her cousin–lived only 3 blocks away. Ms. Cuz could call up at 9:20 AM and be at our house by 9:40. In the interim, my mother would put up a fresh pot of coffee and get a cake mixed and into the oven. By the time Cuzzy arrived, the cake would be just about ready to come out of the oven; the women would sit down, light up a cig, pour a cup of coffee and catch up on respective kids and husbands–and by then it was time for cake.
Nowadays, it seems, that’s all changed. Everything in our lives is faster, everything requires instant gratification and everything is immediate–everything, that is, except human contact. I mean, you know it’s gotten bad when couples have to make an appointment just to have a date with each other. Gah!
A while back , I was asked by Marly of Namely Marly to join today’s “Our Panera’s Gluten Free Dream Day” event, which she co-created with Allyson of Manifest Vegan. The idea was to create a gluten free (and in my case, sugar free, egg free and dairy free) baked good based on something from the Panera menu. Well, needless to say, I was totally chuffed and couldn’t wait to get started! I took a gander through the online list and immediately hit upon “Cinnamon Crumb Coffee Cake.”
Why did I choose this particular cake? Well, it was one of my mom’s specialities when I was a kid, and even just thinking about it brought back a flood of memories. My parents played cards every weekend with a group of friends, and when it was my mom’s turn to hostess, she always baked at least two sweet offerings for the socializing portion of the evening, after the game. Without fail, the table held her “famous” Chiffon Cake, often paired with Farmer’s Cheesecake or perhaps fancy cookies, or–this coffee cake.
Well, okay, not exactly “this” coffee cake. My mom’s version was made with white (wheat) flour, white sugar, eggs, and Crisco shortening. It became a staple in my own home when I first moved out on my own, because it was cheap to make, tasted good, and could go from “idea-in-your-head” to “slice-on-your-plate” in under 30 minutes.
My modernized, gluten-free, sugar-free, vegan, ACD-friendly version is perfectly compatible with today’s fast-paced lifestyle, however. As soon as you hang up from that impromptu invitation you issued to your neighbor, just start on the cake. This one takes a wee bit longer to execute than my mom’s–40 minutes versus my mom’s 30–but these days, it will take your friend that long to drive from her place over to yours, anyway.
When she arrives, be sure to offer her some cake.
“Mum, you know that Chaser and I could get there much faster than that if you ever invited us over for cake. And we won’t need to put on makeup first, either.”
Cinnamon Crumb Cake (Gluten Free, Sugar Free, Anti-Candida, Vegan; can be nut-free)
This quick and easy cake will impress your guests with its light, delicate crumb and cinnamon-walnut center and topping. Perfect for impromptu visitors or just an afternoon snack.
For the Topping/Filling:
1/3 cup (80 ml) whole rolled oats (not instant or quick-cook)
1/3 cup (80 ml) coconut sugar
1/4 cup (60 ml) coconut flour
1 Tbsp (15 ml) cinnamon
pinch fine sea salt
1/2 cup (55 g) walnut pieces or coarsely chopped walnuts**
2 Tbsp (30 ml) coconut oil
For the cake:
1/2 cup (120 ml) unsweetened applesauce
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) apple cider vinegar
20-30 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to your taste
1/3 cup (80 ml) coconut sugar
1 cup (240 ml) unsweetened plain or vanilla soy, almond or rice milk
1/3 cup (80 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1-1/2 Tbsp (1 Tbsp plus 1-1/2 tsp, or 22.5 ml) baking powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1-3/4 tsp (8.5 ml) xanthan gum
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8-inch (20 cm) square pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
Make the topping: In a medium bowl, combine the oats, coconut sugar, coconut flour, cinnamon and salt. Stir to combine. Add the coconut oil and pinch the mixture between your thumb and fingers until it’s evenly moistened and crumbly. Add the walnuts and toss to combine. Set aside.
Make the cake: In a small bowl, whisk together the applesauce, flax, vinegar, stevia, coconut sugar, soymilk, oil, vanilla and lemon extract. Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients, or at least 2 minutes.
In a medium bowl, sift together the all purpose flour, baking powder, soda, xanthan gum and salt. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and whisk just until blended (do not overmix!).
Spread about half the batter in the bottom of the pan (you can measure it, or just estimate). Sprinkle with about half the topping mixture. Scooping out heaping tablespoonsful of the remaining batter, dot the top of the cake with the rest of the batter in spoonfuls, covering as much as you can. Use the back of the spoon to carefully spread the top layer of batter evenly over the cake, filling any spaces as best you can. Sprinkle with the remainder of the topping, covering the batter as evenly as possible (it’s okay if there are a few blank spots here and there). Press the topping lightly into the top of the cake.
Bake for 30-35 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through, until a tester inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean. Cool at least 20 minutes before serving. Makes 9 large or 12 more reasonable servings. May be frozen.
**Note: I’ve made the cake nut-free by simply removing the walnuts–it worked beautifully! It will bake up a little faster, but that’s the only difference I noticed.
Here’s a list of the entire group of bloggers (and their recipes) who are part of today’s Dream Day (recipes will appear during the day):
Imagine this: a buttery, graham-like crust almost overflowing with smooth, rich, creamy filling, studded here and there with plump, sweet raisins and infused throughout with the heady fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg. Top it all off with some coconut whipped cream, and what you’ve got is the perfect dessert for–December? What the heck am I doing baking a wintery pie in July, for goodness sakes?
Allow me to explain. You see, there’s a perfectly good reason why I found myself wandering into tart territory on this seventh month of the year, and it involves bunnies. Dust bunnies, that is.
[The HH's preferred way to eat the pie--as an accessory to whipped cream.]
My tendency when cleaning the house (okay, if I’m being honest, that phrase should read, “My tendency when I used to clean the house. . .” . You see, ever since the heinous candida reared its ugly spores, I’ve been easily fatigued, unable to concentrate, etc. and just haven’t had the energy to clean. Okay, if I’m being really honest, I wasn’t the greatest house-cleaner even before the candida appeared. I mean, who wants to spend their days dusting and Swiffering when it’s 28C (82F) and sunny outdoors? Okay, if I am being ONE HUNDRED PERCENT honest, who feels like cleaning at any time of the year? Because, basically, I’m just really lazy.)
Okay, so, back to the bunnies: when they threatened to seize control of the house the other day, I decided to start cleaning (I did consider training Chaser to crawl under the bed on her belly, military-style, so I could pick the dust tumbleweeds off her fur once she emerged, but for some reason she wouldn’t go for it). Now, everyone has their own unique style of cleaning; mine would be classified as “distracted.” My well-intentioned disinfecting frenzy might go something like this:
Scene:Kitchen. Ricki dons rubber gloves, fills sink with soapy water and wrings out a cloth. She begins to wipe the counters.
Ricki: La dee da. . . la da da da. . . Hmmm. . . [cloth stops before a pile of papers on the counter.] Oh, my, what are these? [riffles through the pile]: Ah, yes, the bills I opened yesterday and meant to take upstairs to the office. Well, I may as well clear the counter and take them now. [Removes gloves, grabs pile of bills and heads upstairs.]
Upstairs. Office. [Ricki heads to desk and places pile of bills on top of existing pile of even older bills. ]
Ricki: Oh, geez, these are nearing their due dates. Better pay up. [goes online and pays all the bills. Glancing down at desktop:] Ooh, look at this, that’s where I left that pair of black earrings. Gee, I love these earrings; I should really wear them more often. Better put them away so I don’t forget about them. [Picks up earrings and heads to bedroom].
Bedroom. [Placing earrings in box]: Hmmm. . . I sure do love those pearl earrings the HH gave me a few years back as well. . . hey, look, here’s that funky pair I love to wear in the summer! Love those, too. . . . [begins to pull out various pairs of earrings and examine them.]
[Twenty five minutes later. . . ]
Ricki: Okay, now, time to get busy! Let’s fold some of this laundry that’s been here since yesterday. . . [pulls T-shirt from laundry basket, folds it and places in dresser drawer.]
[Glancing at framed photo on dresser]: Aw, look at that photo of Mom at her wedding. . . I’ve always loved that photo. . . hmm, let’s just see. .. . [walks back to office and pulls photo album from bookcase] Ah, ha ha, what a great pic of the HH and me at that first party we went to together! Was that really twelve years ago?? Was I really that much slimmer then? Did the HH really have that much more hair then? Oh—tee hee giggle giggle just look at that pic of Elsie as a pup! Oh, she was just the cutest thing. . . ”
[One hour and seven minutes later. Ricki's legs are cramped from sitting cross-legged on the floor leafing through photo albums. The house is still a mess.] Oh my gosh! It’s almost dinnertime! Where do the days go–??
As in cleaning, so in blogging, it seems. Which leads me to raisin tart.
I have saved something like 200 recipes from other blogs, all of which I definitely intend to try. In fact, some have been on my computer since 2007. I know I will eventually make Andrea’s Hot and Sour Soup, Happy Herbivore’s Cajun Chickpea Cakes, Ashley’s Lemon Miso Tofu & Eggplant, Johanna’s vegetarian Haggis, and approximately 196 other recipes I’ve saved. Yet somehow, the allure of novelty can wrench me away from my predetermined plan, just as when I’m “cleaning.”
A few days ago, I sat leafing through an old cookbook I’ve had since the 1980s (I must have been cleaning the kitchen at the time). The American Country Inn and Bed and Breakfast Cookbook (Part II) was a gift from the CFO when I moved into my first apartment as a single professional gal! I hadn’t even glanced at the book for years, but for some reason, that day I happened upon a very fetching Sour Cream and Raisin Pie.
Now, you may think that Raisin Pie and summer–much like Madonna and Guy, red wine and seafood, Sarah Palin and public office, or a gas leak and cigarettes–is not the most auspicious pairing. And yet, something about that pie called to me, and I had to capitulate. Besides, the fact that the original recipe contained dairy sour cream, two eggs white sugar and massive amounts of butter was like dangling a stick in front of Chaser–I was immediately compelled to seize the opportunity (though, unlike our Doodle Girl, I chose not to use my teeth).
“Mum, you’re wrong! It’s not that I am compelled to seize that stick. It’s that I’m exerting my canine free will and deliberately grabbing that stick. Oh, and about helping you out with those dust bunnies under the bed? You know, I might consider it, but couldn’t you at least sweeten the deal some peanut butter or a biscuit on the other end?”
So I began to play with the original, and came up with this.
[My preferred way to eat the pie, in its naked glory.]
The tart is, indeed, very rich and sour-creamy. I opted to use Celine’s recently-posted graham-like crust (which I discovered the other day while I was dusting the office), and the combination of slightly crumbly, slightly shortbready crust with the velvety smooth filling is a perfect marriage of textures and flavors. The HH declared the dessert reminiscent of pumpkin pie, but I thought it was more like a lightly spiced cheesecake. Either way, it didn’t last long; I’ll definitely be making this again in the fall.
Another Winner, and Another Giveaway!
Dr. Winnie has announced the winner of her Sweet Freedom giveaway–go see if you won!
And a fellow holistic nutritionist in Toronto, Laurie, has generously decided to give away a copy of Sweet Freedomas well! Check the contest details here.
Sour Cream Raisin Tart (or Pie)
A lovely dessert for any celebration, any season of the year. I preferred the tart on its own, but the HH loved this with a big dollop of whipped cream.
1 recipe vegan sour cream (or use 1-1/2 cups or 360 ml. or your favorite sour cream)–I used this recipe
1 cup (180 g) Sucanat (or, if you prefer a cream-colored filling, use organic sugar)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) light spelt flour
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) nutmeg
1-1/2 tsp (7.5 ml) cinnamon
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) fine sea salt
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1 cup (140 g) raisins
1 unbaked 9 inch (22.5 cm) pie shell (I used this recipe, with coconut oil instead of margarine)
Preheat oven to 350F (180 C). Line a 9 inch (22.5 cm) pie plate or tart pan with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray (I used a tart pan with a removable bottom). If making the crust from scratch, place the unbaked pie crust in the pan and bake for 15 minutes, until the crust begins to dry on top. Remove from oven.
Meanwhile, make the filling: place the sour cream, Sucanat, flour, salt, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt and vanilla in a medium bowl and whisk to combine well. Allow to sit at least 5 minutes, then whisk again, ensuring that the Sucanat has dissolved. (Alternately, you can blend the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor until smooth). Stir in the raisins.
Pour the filling into the crust and smooth the top. Bake in preheated oven 30-35 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through, until the top of the filling appears dry and the edges begin to puff up. (The filling should barely jiggle when you shake the pan.) Allow to cool to room temperature in the pan, then refrigerate until cold, at least 3 hours. Slice and top with whipped cream, if desired. Makes 8-10 servings. Will keep, covered in the refrigerator, up to 4 days.
[Thanks to everyone who purchased a copy of my new cookbook! And if you’ve been waiting for the book to be listed on amazon.com, it’s now there! Just click on the book image at left to see the three ways to buy.}
Anyone who’s ever successfully trained dogs knows that the key to success–more than anything else–is consistency. Dogs like things to be the same each time they occur. They like predictability. So when you say, “sit,” you must always ensure that they sit. When you say, “come!” you must ensure that they run toward you each and every time. When you set 5:00 PM as their feeding time, you’d damn well better feed them at 5:00 PM. And so on.
Why is this so? Because dogs are creatures of habit. Left to their own devices, they will repeat the same actions over and over (I mean, really, shouldn’t they already know what that hydrant smells like after the first 438 sniffs?). I recognize this canine quality every day at precisely 4:43 PM, when Elsie pads soundlessly across the office to barely graze my knee with her wet, leathery nose and remind me that dinner should be on its way in, oh, about 17 minutes. Or in the way Chaser tucks her head under the overhang of our bed’s comforter every evening before turning in for the night. Or in the way both Girls park themselves by the front door, pining, each weekday evening as they wait for the HH to arrive home from work.
Even though he’s fond of telling me I have “dog-like qualities,” it’s really the HH who is more the creature of habit in our relationship. I liken myself more to Jerry’s character in Seinfeld, the one who had a library of cold breakfast cereals lining his kitchen shelf because he peferred a varied selection. The HH, on the other hand, eats exactly the same thing for breakfast each day, following a very precise, very consistent morning ritual:
7:00 AM: Slam clock radio alarm with palm. Lower palm to side of bed and pat Chaser’s head. Heave self out of bed. Don “dog-walking pants” and sneakers. Take The Girls for their AM romp and morning ablutions.
7:40 AM: Shower and shave. Forget to wipe the counter, leaving soapy pools of water clinging to all of Ricki’s cosmetic bottles. Reach into closet and grab the next clean shirt and next clean pair of pants (no matter if they don’t happen to match) and dress for work. Slip into shoes, left one first, then right one and tie up laces.
8:15 AM: grab a paper bag from under the sink and a banana from the bowl on the counter. Head to the fridge to fill the sack with other foods to enjoy later with that first deskbound coffee. Pull out one green apple from the crisper drawer; then move to the door to select a home baked muffin from the unending stash on the shelf–
WHOAH! WAIT A SECOND HERE!
Suddenly, these days, there is no more stash of home-made, freshly baked breakfast goods. Crisis!
You see, for the past 12 years or so, the HH has cohabited with a baker. This means that he never had to think about his breakfast baked good; he was greeted each morning with a seemingly endless array of homemade, healthy treats from which to choose, courtesy of yours truly. In the past year alone, as I was testing and re-testing recipes for the cookbook, those baked goods seemed to multiply of their own accord like happy little Tribbles, and the HH was often faced with an embarrassment of riches. It could be a tough choice for the guy, between a Sweet Harvest Muffin, Lemon Blueberry Scone, Maple-Millet Muffin, PB & G Muffin, or even some Cinnamon Walnut Coffee Cake.
But recently, I haven’t been baking much. No, scratch that; I haven’t been baking at all. Adhering to the draconian restrictionsdesperate measures stringent dictates of the ACD has made me shun anything sugary. Forfeit anything floury. Eschew chocolate. And–for a while, anyway–ban baking.
Pity the poor HH.
Not only has he lost his endless stock of breakfast muffins, he’s also been forced to eat the red apples from our weekly organic box (since I’m off fruit) instead of his usual green ones. I mean, really, how much can the poor guy take?
Feeling sorry for the guy, I decided to bake up some new muffins for his morning meal. Well, turns out I’m more a creature of habit than I realized–where baking is concerned, at least. Bake I must! I decided to accept the fact: Baking is my calling. Baking is in my blood! Baking is my destiny! I. Love. Baking. Oh, and I also had a bunch of old ingredients in the cupboard I had to use up.
I spied a box of Cinnamon Puffins languishing at the back of the shelf , like the lone wallflower hoping against hope for a dance at the prom. I’d bought them before starting the ACD, mostly because I’d read about them so many times on VeggieGirl’s blog and was dying to try them. And while I would have been happy to finish the box myself, I’m not allowed cereal on this diet; and the HH wasn’t fussy about them. What to do?
Bake ‘em into muffins, that’s what! I thought I’d replace some of the usual flour with ground-up cereal for an extra hit of both grains and flavor. Playing with proportions and one of my favorite flavor combinations, I came up with this version of Mocha Cinnamon Cereal Muffins. And this way, you don’t have to choose between cereal and a muffin–you get both in one!
The result was an incredibly moist, fragrant muffin. The cereal added textural interest and a density that suits these miniature quick breads perfectly. Unlike most of my breakfast baking, these gems contain neither fruit nor vegetable, attaining their moistness from the mixture of cereal and ground chia. With just a hint of coffee and whisper of cinnamon, they would be perfect topped with some almond butter or even buttery spread.
It felt great to get back to baking, even if I can’t enjoy the fruits of my labor (well, in this case, the cinnamon-coffee of my labor) just yet. As for the HH, he seems much more comfortable now that his morning ritual has returned to normal.
“Mum, it’s great that you’ve got back to your old baking habit! But how about that letting-us-lick-the-spoon habit? Can you please get back to that one, too–??”
Mocha Cinnamon Cereal Muffins
I bet these would work well with any cinnamon-flavored breakfast cereal, or any cereal of your choice (just be aware that the cereal will confer some of its own flavor to the final product).
2 cups (480 ml) cinnamon flavored cold cereal, dry (I used Cinnamon Puffins)
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) plain or vanilla soy or almond milk
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup (80 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1/2 tsp (2. 5 ml) apple cider vinegar
3/4 cup (105 g) light spelt flour
1/2 cup (60 g) barley flour (may substitute more spelt)
1 Tbsp (30 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2. 5 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) cinnamon
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
2/3 cup (65 g) coarsely chopped pecans or walnuts
Preheat oven to 350F (180 C). Line 10 muffin cups with paper liners for small muffins, or 8 cups for larger muffins; or spray with nonstick spray.
In the bowl of a food processor,whir the cereal until it has crumbled to a fine meal. There should be no large pieces of cereal visible. You should have about 1 cup (240 ml) of cereal-meal.
To the processor bowl, add the chia seeds, coffee substitute, agave, milk, vanilla, oil and apple cider vinegar. Whir to combine. (Note: if you use flax instead of chia, the muffins may be a teeny bit dryer–but still delicious!).
Add the spelt flour, barley flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and sea salt, and process again until blended, stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl if necessary. You should have a fairly thick batter. Sprinkle with the pecans and stir them in by hand, but do not process again.
Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, fill the muffin cups, dividing the batter evenly.
Bake for 35-40 minutes, rotating the pan once about halfway through, until a tester inserted in a center muffin comes out clean. Allow to cool about 5 minutes before removing to a rack to cool completely. Makes 8-10 muffins. May be frozen.
