|
|
I know; who says things like, “It’s the berries” any more?
Okay, well, I admit that I do. I also say “take umbrage” (and said it even before I knew the Harry Potter connection), “just chillaxin’“ and, sometimes, “the cat’s pyjamas” (but only when I feel like teasing The Girls).
But honestly, this recent revision in my diet that now permits the occasional appearance of fruits like raspberries, black berries or blueberries is, indeed–well, the berries.
After my recent success with a stevia-sweetened upside down apple pancake, I decided to go one step further and aim for muffins. Unlike the pancake, these babies are portable as a snack, or even breakfast (not that a holistic nutritionist such as I, who always spends enough time preparing and eating proper meals , ever has to eat on the run–say, in my car, for instance, as I drive to a dentist appointment because I’m so totally overscheduled and behind on work that I was up until 12:47 that very morning marking student assignments and then slept through the alarm and hit “snooze” twice before rushing out of bed and waking the HH while shrieking, “I’m going to be late for the DENTIST!” as I dashed into the shower, dressed at record speed and headed out like Bugs Bunny’s tasmanian devil on the hunt for prey, pausing just long enough at the kitchen counter to grab a muffin–no, no, goodness me, I never have to resort anything like that!).
After I received my healthy baking kit this week, I got to thinking about baking muffins that I’d be allowed to eat. These lemon-blueberry lovelies are light yet dense, providing a moist, airy crumb that’s just right as a backdrop for organic blueberries that have been scattered hither and thither (I also say things like “hither and thither, apparently). I used dried blueberries (sweetened only with apple juice) and so felt they’d be acceptable as a treat on this phase of the ACD. If you prefer, use fresh or frozen berries (but don’t thaw the latter before stirring into the batter).
I may have mentioned before that I regularly bake muffins or quick breads so the HH has something healthy at work alongside his coffee each morning (hmmm. . . . I wonder if the organic, whole foods ingredients in my goodies cancel out the hydrogenated fats and chemicals in the coffee whitener at the office? Naw, didn’t think so). Now, he long ago became accustomed to whole spelt flour and natural sweeteners instead of wheat and sugar, but how would he react to GF flours and stevia? Only one way to find out. I went to work. By the time the HH returned home from his day at the office, the house was infused with the heady aroma of lemon zest.
“HH, honey, how about a taste of a delicious, yummy, moist lemon-blueberry muffin?” I asked innocuously. He stopped to look at me.
“It’s one of those weird candida things, isn’t it?”
[Freeze frame on Ricki's face. The Dilemma: does she lie and only later tell him what's in the muffin, after he eats it? Or does she tell him the truth, and risk his refusal to even try?]
“Candida things aren’t weird,” I said, and left it at that.
“Okay, I’ll take a taste. . . .” I stared intently. He nibbled on the muffin’s domed top. This was followed by another nibble, then a fuIl bite, which was followed by a second, and a third. . . before I knew it, the muffin was gone!
“Hmm. Lemony. And the blueberries taste pretty sweet. ” He began to rummage around for another. Sweet Success!
Even if you haven’t worked with stevia before, I bet you will enjoy these as a light, not-too-sweet breakfast treat or snack. Seriously, they’re far out. A gas. Just swell. And the berries.
And Happy Hannukah (or, if you prefer, Chanukah) to everyone who celebrates!
Blueberry Lemon Muffins
These are a substantial, moist and light muffin for breakfast or snacks. Don’t worry about what seems like a lot of lemon flavor from the extract and zest here; whole grain flours can be overpowering, and you’ll need to compensate with more flavoring if you want to detect lemon in the final product.
1/4 cup (60 ml) tahini (sesame paste), or use cashew butter if you’re not a sesame fan
1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1/2 cup (120 ml) unsweetened applesauce
2 tsp (10 ml) finely ground chia seeds
1 cup (240 ml) unsweetened soy or almond milk
25-35 drops stevia, to your taste (the muffins will taste a bit less sweet once baked), or 1/4 cup (60 ml) agave nectar*
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1 tsp (5 ml) pure lemon extract or 2 tsp (10 ml) lemon flavoring (flavoring is less intense)
finely grated zest of 2 medium or large lemons
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup (120 ml) dried blueberries (or use fresh/frozen, unthawed)
1/2 cup (120 ml) amaranth flour**
1/2 cup (120 ml) brown rice flour
2 Tbsp (30 ml) coconut flour
1/4 cup (60 ml) garbanzo-fava flour or chickpea flour
1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line 12 muffin cups with paper liners, or grease with coconut oil.
In a large bowl, whisk together the tahini and oil until smooth. Add the applesauce and stir well to combine, then whisk in the chia seeds. Add the milk, stevia, vanilla, lemon flavoring, lemon zest and vinegar, and stir until well combined. Gently stir in the blueberries to coat them.
In a medium bowl, sift together the amaranth flour, brown rice flour, coconut flour, garbanzo-fava flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Pour the dry ingredients over the wet and stir just until combined.
Using a large scoop or a 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop generously and fill muffins tins very full. Bake in preheated oven 30-35 minutes, rotating pan around halfway through, until very well browned on top and a center muffin tests done. Allow to cool 5 minutes before removing from pan to cool completely. Makes 12-14 large muffins or 12 large muffins and about 6 minis. May be frozen.
* You can replace the stevia with 1/4-1/3 cup (60-80 ml) agave nectar if you like, but reduce the milk by 2-3 Tbsp (30-45 ml) if you do.
** Amaranth has a distinctive, nutty flavor that some may find too assertive for these muffins. For a milder flavor, substitute millet or more rice flour for the amaranth.
Last Year at this Time: Flash in the Pan: Blended Hot Cereal
Two Years Ago: Mostly Raw Chocolate Truffles
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this fifth edition, I'm focusing on cilantro. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. This is the second entry on cilantro.]
*I originally thought about calling this post, “First Love Three Ways,” but I can only imagine the kinds of search terms that would generate for my blog!
What woman doesn’t remember her first love? Me, I remember my first cookbook.**
Now, don’t get me wrong–of course I remember my first love, too. I met Spaghetti Ears (not his real name***) the summer before I embarked on my Master’s degree, when I was about twenty two. Yes, I was a late bloomer. Okay, I was a really late bloomer. I was a ridiculously late bloomer. A ”So-glad-You-Finally-Made-it-We’ve Already-Finished Dinner-and-the-Dishes-Are-in-the-Dishwasher,” ”Sorry-You’ve-Missed-Your-Appointment-the-Doctor-is-Leaving-Now-and-I’ll-Have-to-Reschedule-You,” “Honey-I’m-Three-Weeks-Overdue-Would-You-Run-to-the-Drugstore-and-buy-a-First-Response-Kit “ kind of late bloomer.
Nevertheless, it was worth the wait. Spaghetti Ears was, truly, an ideal first boyfriend. Smart and funny, sweet and kind, loving and gentle, he was the type of guy who’d draw sappy birthday cards by hand, fill shoe boxes with rose petals to strew across the bed for your anniversary, tell you he loved you at least once a day or buy you opal earrings that, while beautiful, were beyond his budget, just because they were your birthstone and they would look lovely resting on your earlobes. (Hmmm. . . wait a second. . . you mean I broke up with this guy? Was I nuts, or what?)
And now, all these years later, I never even have to wonder what’s become of him, since we’re still friends. We email each other on birthdays and get together for an annual celebratory lunch. He tells me about his work and regales me with proud Papa stories, while I recount stories about The Girls’ antics and other events at the DDD household. (Oh, and sorry, ladies, he’s happily married). Apart from a few more laugh lines and gray hairs, Spaghetti Ears is pretty much the same guy today as he was when we dated.
My first cookbook, on the other hand, is in much worse shape than when we first met. (It’s my fault entirely. I just couldn’t keep my hands off it).
I acquired my first “real” cookbook well into my twenties (told you I was a late bloomer!). When I rented my first apartment on my own, my initial impulse was to think about how I’d furnish it. Oh, no, not with furniture, silly (though of course I’d get some of that, too). I wanted to furnish it with cookbooks, the kitchen being the core and most important room in the place.
Having almost no disposable income at the time, I opted for the Doubleday Book Club, where you could order 9 books for $1.00 (then, you needed only purchase 4 more books at regular Doubleday prices–plus shipping and handling–over the next two years!). I ticked off names based on titles I’d heard or was only vaguely familiar with, such as The Joy of Cooking (I was lucky enough to get mine before the travesty of a second version hit the stands); Maida Heatter’s Great American Desserts (she remains an idol of mine); or the original Moosewood Cookbook, in all its handwritten glory, words and illustrations by the multi-talented Mollie Katzen.
How I loved my Moosewood book! In those first days of breathless infatuation, I tried as many recipes as I could, and always turned to my Moosewood before any other. I made Katzen’s Carrot Loaf (really more like a casserole) more times than I can remember. The cookbook also supplied my introduction to hummus, gazpacho, tabbouleh, plus a host of other wonderful recipes. My love for anything Moosewood was ignited with that seminal tome and never waned. In fact, my dream of dining at the original Moosewood Restaurant was finally realized a few years ago when the HH and I dropped in several times during a stop in Ithaca on our way to Boston.
Fast forward to my first encounter with the ACD ten years ago, when I was desperately seeking recipes that were both tasty and complied with my dietary restrictions. Well, I turned to my beloved once again. This Lemony Baked Tofu from The Moosewood Restaurant New Classics fit the bill perfectly, and it was the first tofu dish I truly adored. Made with fresh, simple ingredients, the offbeat combination of cilantro, lemon, and jalapeno is transformative here. The acidity of the lemon is tempered during baking so that the final result isn’t the least bit sour; the cilantro also loses a bit of its perfumed quality in the oven, creating a heady mix that’s intensely flavored with spice and just enough camarelization to confer a touch of sweetness.
While it’s incredibly simple to make (I just whizz everything in the food processor) and there are certainly more elaborate or trendy interpretations of tofu around these days (tofu omelets? tofu scallops? tofu ricotta?), I still love this tofu hot as a main course, cold in sandwiches or wraps, or on its own as an afternoon snack (a few slices have also served as breakfast on occasi0n, alongside home fries). Even when the HH went through his “NO-fu” stage and refused to eat most of my standard tofu-based dishes, he would still enjoy slabs of this baked tofu paired with veggies or pasta.
I’ve tried literally dozens of other tofu recipes since then, but this has remained a steadfast favorite. In a way, you might even say that this tofu is yet another one of my first loves. Unlike the human variety, however (and even after ten years together), this recipe remains consistently lovable, has never let me down and can always make me happy, every time I take a bite.
**My first kiss was another story altogether. I was about 15 and, as I recall, one of us was wearing a retainer at the time. I won’t say who.
***That was his actual pet name. Mine was Melon Head. Ah, the quirky charm of young love!
AND DON’T FORGET: Laurie at Baby Bites and Toddler Tapas is giving away a copy of Sweet Freedom–and there are six ways to enter! The contest closes September 6th. For more details, go here.
Lemony Baked Tofu (adapted from New Moosewood Classics)
Remarkably versatile, this dish can be eaten plain, in sandwiches or pasta, or any other way you fancy. If you’re not a fan of cilantro, try it with parsley, basil, or even dill–though I’d cut the amount of jalapeno in those cases.
1 cake firm or extra firm tofu (about 1 pound/500 g)
1/2-1 fresh jalapeno pepper, to your taste (remove seeds for less heat)
1/3 cup (80 ml) chopped fresh cilantro (leaves and small stems)
1/2 small onion, roughly chopped, or 1 scallion, roughly chopped
1/4 cup (60 ml) fresh lemon juice
2 Tbsp (30 ml) tamari or soy sauce
3 Tbsp (45 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) agave nectar or organic sugar
1/4 tsp (1 ml) freshly ground pepper
1/2 cup (120 ml) water
Preheat oven to 400F (200C). Spray a nonreactive pan (glass or ceramic) with nonstick spray.
Cut the block of tofu into 10-12 small slabs or 4 thin “steaks.” Set aside.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the jalapeno, cilantro, onion, lemon juice, tamari, olive oil, agave and pepper until smooth. Add the water and process briefly to combine.
Pour about half the marinade in the bottom of the prepared pan and spread to coat the pan. Place the tofu slabs evenly on top of the marinade (try to keep them in a single layer) and pour the rest of the marinade evenly over them. It’s okay if one or two slabs must be doubled up; just pour a little marinade between them as well.
Bake for 45-60 minutes, turning the tofu over once about halfway through. The baked tofu should be browned and bubbling, and there should be almost no liquid left in the pan. Remove to a platter and serve. Makes 4 servings. Will keep, covered in the refrigerator, up to 5 days (as with many tofu dishes, this is actually better the second day).
ACD variation: omit tamari and use Bragg’s aminos instead; omit agave and use 2 drops stevia or equivalent stevia powder.
Other posts in this series:
Other Lucky Comestibles:
Last Year at this Time: Mrs. K’s Date Cake (a Sweet Freedom recipe!)
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[I thought it would be fun to run a little series over here at DDD: I'll profile one one of my favorite foods, or a food that I've recently discovered and enjoyed, over several days. For this third entry, I'm focusing on Avocados. The series is presented on an occasional (and entirely arbitrary) basis, before I move on to the next lucky comestible. ]
Summer is definitely the season of romance. I mean, all those couples strolling along the Harbourfront, hand in hand. . . starry nights and waves crashing against the sand at the Beaches. . . candlelit dinners on the back patio under the moonlight, just you and your sweetheart. . . and the black flies. . . and the mosquitoes. . . and the spiders. . . Hmm. Well, all those couples strolling along the Harbourfront, hand in hand . . .
Doesn’t everyone love a little romance once in a while? I used to think that romance meant roses and chocolate, but nowadays I know better. Now I realize it’s just chocolate.
In my previous lifetime (long before the HH), my Starter Husband was a natural when it came to romance; he was one of those guys who’d secretly light candles and strew rose petals around the bathtub (which was filled, naturally, with Chanel Number 5 Bubble Bath) while I was out shopping because he saw it in a movie somewhere. Or I’d open a Christmas present to find a pair of handcrafted tiger’s eye earrings he’d bought, because I’d admired them while strolling through an outdoor bazaar the previous July. Yes, he was a “romantic,” in the classic sense (still didn’t save the marriage, though).
Most of us are familiar with the studies about husbands who “help out” more in the domestic areas of the home (washing dishes, doing laundry, cleaning floors, etc.): they’re also more likely to get lucky in the other areas (read: bedroom) of the home. In those cases, romance is something else entirely: it’s the ability to tune in to the ongoing, mundane demands or stresses facing your loved one and to help alleviate some of the pressure by reducing the workload. I mean, we all know there’s nothing quite so sexy as a guy with his hands in a sink of soapy dishes, right?
The HH is definitley not romantic in the classic sense–I think he’s bought flowers for me twice in the eleven years we’ve been together, and those only under duress–but he sure does shine in the “sharing housework” department. (I know, I’ve mentioned his lack of cooking prowess before, and it’s true, he loathes cooking; but he does make a great kitchen hand, and if I had to count up household chores, I’m certain he takes care of more of them than I do).
The HH’s style leans more toward Harry’s in When Harry Met Sally–the guy you love to talk to, the one whose silly jokes make you laugh despite yourself, the one who’s steady and good natured and helpful, even if he does miss a few cues when it comes to your desire for sentiment or being sappy.
And what prompts me to feel romantic toward my guy? Well, seeing him on his back on the floor (really, get your minds out of the gutter, people!), rolling around with The Girls and a pull toy (well, actually, I guess that last sentence out of context could be interpreted “that way,” couldn’t it? Lord knows what search terms will lead people to this post, now I’ve written that). Though he’d probably never admit it out loud, the HH is head-over-tail in love with our dogs. And recognizing that devotion always sparks my own romantic inclinations towards him. (“We’re pretty cool with it, too, Mum.”)
Although it’s true I’ve bought Christmas gifts the HH had admired months before, in general I tend toward more quotidien romantic expressions such as leaving notes in lunch bags, offering to do dishes when it’s his turn, or baking things for him that I know he loves.
Which brings me–finally–to today’s recipe. (I know, you were wondering how I’d work it in, weren’t you?)
One of the HH’s favorite flavors is coconut. Alongside a good hunk of Decadent Chocolate Pâté, coconut cream pie is his all-time favorite dessert. For his birthday each year, I let the HH choose any dessert on the planet and I will make it for him; among the Toffee Hazelnut Pound Cake, the Opera Cake, the Layered Mocha Mousse Cake and all the others over the past eleven years, the only repeat so far has been coconut cake. What could be better (or more romantic), then, than a baked good that’s both healthy and coconut-based?
As I mentioned in the first post of this Lucky Comestible series, avocados can be used as egg substitutes in baking. When I first learned of this option, I experimented with a huge variety of recipes, from cookies to cakes to muffins. In general, the avocado isn’t detectable if the other flavors in a recipe are fairly assertive to begin with (as in the aforementioned chocolate pâté), but in lighter bases (such as vanilla), you may sense a hint of the buttery green purée. In addition, the avocado will impart a touch of color to the final product (though strangely, it bakes up more yellow than green).
The result of my kitchen playtime was these muffins, a great combination of coconut and lemon. They’re extremely moist, both tart and sweet, and have become one of the HH’s favorites. When you mix up the batter, however, don’t be alarmed by the brilliant Day-Glo green color–the magical alchemy that is baking will transform it into a deep, rich, lemony yellow that is a perfect visual representation of the intense lemony flavor.
Next time you want to express your love toward the object of your affection, trying baking these. . . and then, who knows what type of romance might ensue?
I’m also submitting this recipe to A Fruit A Month, the event started by Maheswari of Beyond the Usual and this month hosted by Suganya of Tasty Palettes. This month’s focus is coconut. The roundup will be posted after June 30th, so head over to take a look after that!
Tropical Lemon-Coconut Muffins
Moist and filling, these are the perfect breakfast or snack. And because the avocado already contributes monounsaturated fats, these don’t require any added oil!
1/2 cup (125 ml.) avocado purée (may be previously frozen)
1/2 cup (125 ml.) agave nectar
juice of one lemon plus enough water (if necessary) to equal 1/4 cup (60 ml.) liquid
2 tsp. (10 ml.) fresh lemon zest (about one lemon)
3/4 cup (100 g.) whole barley flour
1/2 cup (65 g.) whole oat flour
1 tsp. (5 ml.) baking powder
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) baking soda
1/4 tsp. (1.5 ml.) sea salt
1 cup (80 g.) shredded unsweetened coconut
Preheat oven to 350 F (180 C.). Line a 6-cup muffin tin with paper liners, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a small bowl, combine the avocado, agave nectar, lemon juice and lemon zest. Mix until smooth and evenly blended.
In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Stir in the coconut.
Pour the wet mixture over the dry and stir quickly to blend (it will begin to fizz and bubble right away; this is as it should be; do not overmix, as this will result in flat muffins). Use an ice cream scoop or a 1/3 cup (80 ml.) measuring cup to fill the muffin cups about 3/4 full (these don’t rise very much when baking, so the height of the muffins when raw is what they’ll look like when baked as well).
Bake in preheated oven for 20-25 minutes, rotating pan halfway through, until a tester inserted in the centre of a muffin comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes before removing to a cooling rack. Makes 6 large muffins. These freeze beautifully.
[This recipe will also appear in my upcoming cookbook, Sweet Freedom, along with more than 100 others, most of which are not featured on this blog. For more information, check the "Cookbook" button at right, or visit the cookbook blog.]
Other posts in this series:
*Okay, so it’s not really Polish. But the topping reminded me of a German Chocolate Cake topping, and since (half) my ancestry is Polish, I thought I’d just use the same concept for this cake’s name.
Did you hear the one about the (half) Polish woman who wanted to bake a cake?
Just kidding.
All right now! ‘Nuff of those wacky raw dishes we’ve been seeing the last couple of days!! Time for some CAKE.
One of the greatest challenges of living in a long-term, committed relationship is dealing with those areas in which you and your partner don’t necessarily mesh. In order to coexist harmoniously and still retain one’s sanity, it’s sometimes necessary to make accommodations. (Okay, fine; not only “sometimes,” but pretty much every day. Okay, fine; several times a day.).
Since this union is the second go-round for both the HH and me, we no longer bristle at the petty, quotidien issues that drive some newlyweds crazy (does the toilet paper roll from the top or the bottom? Do you re-fold the newspaper in its original configuration after reading, or leave it in separate, blowzy sections once you’re done with it? Is it okay to exchange sotto voce commentary while watching Atonement in the movie theater, or not?). Nevertheless, we do make our own concessions. The HH prefers to play music ultra loud (beyond 11, even), whereas I prefer it as a soothing backdrop to other activities. He takes a laissez-faire attitude toward housework and disciplining The Girls; I prefer a schedule, and rules. (“And we definitely prefer Dad’s approach. . . sorry, Mum.”)
One major difference that forces the issue pretty much daily is our respective dietary habits: as I may have mentioned (perhaps, on occasion, in passing?) the HH loves to eat meat; I do not.
So when it comes to food, we’ve both learned to adapt. Over the past 11 years, the HH has eaten more tofu, collards, rice noodles and quinoa than he ever knew existed in the world. He’s also sacrificed some of his own cherished favorites, as when I had to cut out all alcohol (plus sugar, and fermented products, and fruits. . . don’t ask) from my diet for 2 years. He cheerfully complied and went without at home, with not a peep of protest.
So, as I browsed through my bookmarked recipes this week for something to bake, I was pleased to land on a recipe for Lemon-Coconut Bundt Cake from Deb’s great blog, Altered Plates. The HH adores coconut (whereas I’m fairly indifferent to it); coconut cream pie tops his list, but he’ll embrace cookies, muffins, bars, or any other coconut confections as well. I thought this would be the perfect cake to show my appreciation for his tolerating my (fairly) unconventional dietary habits over the years.
When I discovered that the Coconut-Lemon Cake recipe originated with Veganomicon, I wasn’t at all surprised. Seems you can’t read any food blog–vegan or not–these days without stumbling on a reference to that revered tome. I’ve tried many recipes from my own copy of the book, but none of the baked goods. In general, Moskowitz and Romero (I like using their surnames–it’s actually the correct format when referencing other authors; and besides, it makes them sound like a comedy duo that way: “Romero & Moskowitz’s Laugh-In,” or maybe a law firm: “Moskowitz and Romero, LLP“ ) often make use of baking ingredients far removed from my own kitchen cabinets: white sugar, wheat flour, margarine, and the like. And while it’s not difficult to adapt those kinds of recipes to my own requirements, I already had plenty of other recipes lined up.
I was definitely drawn to the concept of lemon and coconut coexisting in harmony (sort of like the HH and me!). But an entire Bundt cake seemed massive (I mean, how many extra baked goods can one bring to the office?). I decided to halve the recipe and bake it in a round cake pan.
In addition, M & R recommend serving the cake unfrosted. Now, maybe a naked Bundt (like the Venus de Milo or Miley Cyrus’s shoulder) is sufficiently alluring on its own; but an unadorned, plain-Jane round layer, sans frosting or filling? Well, that just wouldn’t do. Instead, I omitted the coconut from the cake itself, then added it to a a lemony, gooey topping, reminiscent of the frosting on a German Chocolate Cake, for a little more flair.
I’m happy to report that the HH was very pleased with the final result. The cake itself revealed a cheery yellow, moist and light interior; the slightly more brash lemony topping, lush and loaded with coconut, provided a great contrast in texture and sweetness. In fact, the HH seemed so pleased with his treat that I felt perfectly justified asking him to turn down that deafening volume on the stereo.
Since I was inspired by Deb’s adapted version, I’m submitting this entry to Ruth’s weekly Bookmarked Recipes event, over at Ruth’s Kitchen Experiments.
Polish Lemon Cake (adapted from Veganomicon)
This cake is very moist with a gooey, rich and intensely lemon topping. Perfect for a dessert or an afternoon snack, it keeps well in the fridge (and is even better the second day).
Coconut-Lemon Topping:
1/3 c. (80 ml.) agave nectar
1 Tbsp. (10 g.) organic cornstarch
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) coconut milk
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) unflavored soymilk
2 tsp. (10 ml.) freshly grated lemon zest
pinch turmeric
1 tsp. (5 ml.) vanilla
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) soymilk powder
3/4 cup (60 g.) shredded unsweetened coconut, toasted
Cake:
3/4 cup (175 ml.) agave nectar
1/3 cup (80 ml.) sunflower or other light-tasting oil
3/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp. (200 ml.) coconut milk (1/2 a 400 ml. or 14-ounce can)
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) unflavored soymilk
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) fresh lemon juice
2 tsp. (10 ml.) freshly grated lemon zest
1 tsp. (5 ml.) pure vanilla extract
1 tsp. (5 ml.) ground Salba (chia seeds)
1 cup (150 g.) light spelt flour
1/2 cup (70 g.) coconut flour
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) sea salt
1-1/2 tsp. (7.5 ml.) baking powder
1/2 tsp. (2.5ml.) baking soda
Make the topping: In a small saucepan, whisk together the agave nectar and cornstarch until smooth. Slowly whisk in the milks, lemon zest and turmeric. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer the mixture for one minute, stirring.
Remove from heat and add the vanilla and soymilk, whisking until smooth (don’t worry about tiny lumps, as they’ll be camouflaged by the coconut; if you want it really smooth, you can blend with a hand-held blender before adding the coconut). Once the mixture is smooth, stir in the vanilla and coconut. Allow to cool while you prepare the cake.
Make the cake: Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Grease an 8″ round pan, or line with parchment paper.
In a medium bowl, mix together the agave, oil, milks, lemon juice, lemon zest, vanilla, and Salba. Whisk to ensure that the Salba is evenly distributed. Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients.
In a large bowl, sift the spelt flour, coconut flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Stir the wet mixture into the dry until well combined. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and bake in the preheated oven for 40-45 minutes, until deep golden brown and a cake tester inserted in the center comes out perfectly clean. Alllow to cool about 20-30 minutes, until cake is no longer hot.
Scrape the coconut filling over the cake and spread evenly. Refrigerate until cold, about an hour. Cut into slices and serve. Makes 8-10 servings.
[This recipe will also appear in my upcoming cookbook, Sweet Freedom, along with more than 75 others, most of which are not featured on this blog. For more information, check the "Cookbook" button at right, or visit the cookbook blog.]
|
|
