Diet, Dessert and Dogs

Well, I suppose it had to happen eventually. . . winter has finally arrived in Toronto.  *Sigh*.  I really, really would love to live somewhere that I don’t have to don at least 4 layers of clothing (that would include torso, head, hands, and feet) in order just to walk out the door without permanently damaging my epidermis.  To allow the dogs a mere 12 minutes of romping at the local baseball field (that was all I could stand of the chill), it took 15 minutes to get dressed and another 10 to peel off the top 3 layers when I got home.  Dogs are lucky that way, aren’t they?  Permanent fur coat; gloves not required.  (“That may be true, Mum, and we love the cold, but you do have that opposable thumbs thing going on, which could definitely be perceived as an advantage.”)

Well, cold weather makes me think of soup.  And soup on a winter’s day makes me think of my mother’s chicken soup, a Friday night ritual in our house throughout my childhood, even though my dad worked late every Friday and didn’t even stride through the door until we kids were already in pyjamas.  Friday night was Chicken Soup Night.

And where do I come to parsnips from my mother’s soup, you might ask?  Why, in the soup itself.  The soup was begun early in the day, with Mom pulling out the largest stockpot in the house and filling it two-thirds full with water.  First, she’d tie up a whole bunch of fresh dill with twine (or, in a pinch, white sewing thread) and toss it in; then she’d add whole vegetables: one peeled onion; three peeled carrots; three stalks of celery; and a huge, peeled parsnip.  These were followed by hunks of chicken which simmered through most of the day, the flesh turning from pink to white to gray as it rose to the top of the pot, bobbing like the remnants of an airline catastrophe on the ocean, the heavy scent of chicken grease permeating the house.

Needless to say, I did not enjoy my mother’s chicken soup.

Of course, in those days, I had no idea that the seemingly anemic carrot my mother  used was called “parsnip”; I thought it was actually named “pietroshkeh” (pee-ET-rosh-keh), which is what my parents both called it.  (I also believed that the main character of my first children’s book–a tome I proudly read aloud, using my new skill of sounding out each and every letter–was called “Murse Rabbit,” until I was about 10.  It was then that The Nurse informed me “Mrs” was actually an abbreviation for “Missus.”  The humiliation!).

I still don’t know whether pietroshkeh is the Polish word (from my dad’s childhood in Poland) or the Russian word (from my mother’s ancestors), but I carried it with me until my late 20s, when someone served roasted parsnips to me at a holiday dinner and I asked what they were.  Imagine my surprise when I realized I’d already been eating them–and hating them–my whole life!

Luckily, I adored the roots in their roasted form.  Unlike the mushy, over-boiled parsnips of my mother’s soup, these actually tasted good.  And they had a subtle sweetness about them, the outsides partially caramelized through roasting, flavors mingling with the aromas of rosemary and thyme.  They were delicious!  Who knew they could be used in other ways besides watery, grey, fatty chicken soup?  Thus began a love affair with parnsips, and a quest to afford them their due.

I ate roasted parsnips, parsnips in faux mashed potatoes, or almond-crusted parsnips over the years, but I had never tried a baked good with parsnip.  Then, one Saturday at the organic market where I sold muffins and other treats a few years ago, a colleague brought in parsnip loaf.  Like a winter-pale version of its tanned carrot cousin, the parsnip loaf offered the same warming spices, slight sweetness and flecks of grated flesh distributed throughout.  Indeed, you can substitute carrot here if you prefer, but the parsnip adds its own unique character to the loaf, an understated spiciness and sweet appeal that no other vegetable can provide. 

Try these moist, flavorful quick breads, and I bet you’ll end up loving the lowly pietroshkeh, too.

Parsnip Mini Loaves or Muffins, with GF Option

A lovely, intensely flavored muffin for breakfast or an afternoon snack.  The fruity flavors of orange and banana meld wonderfully, and the parsnip adds moisture and substance with just a hint of its earthy flavor.

Version I (contains gluten)**:

finely grated zest and juice of one large organic orange (wash before zesting)

1/2 cup (90 g) Sucanat or other unrefined evaporated cane juice

1 medium very ripe banana, mashed or puréed

1 large parsnip (about 9 ounces or 250g), grated on medium blade of your food processor or largest holes on a box grater

1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic

1-3/4 cups (260 g) light spelt flour

1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking powder

1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda

1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt

2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground nutmeg

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground ginger

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Line 6 mini loaf pans or 9 muffin cups with paper liners, or spray with nonstick spray.

Pour the orange juice into a glass measuring cup and measure out 1/2 cup (120 ml).  If your orange didn’t yield at least 1/2 cup (120 ml) liquid, add water to equal that amount. 

Place the orange zest and juice in a medium bowl with the Sucanat, banana, parsnip and oil; mix well.  Set aside to allow the Sucanat to dissolve somewhat.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir just to blend (do not overmix!). 

Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop the batter into the prepared pans (they should be quite full).  Bake for 30-35 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center loaf or muffin comes out clean.  Cool 5 minutes before turning onto a rack to cool completely.  May be frozen.

Version II (Gluten Free)**:

finely grated zest of one large organic orange (wash before zesting)

3/4 cup (180 ml) pure orange juice

1/2 cup (90 g) Sucanat or other unrefined evaporated cane juice

1 medium very ripe banana, mashed or puréed

1 large parsnip (about 9 ounces or 250g), grated on medium blade of your food processor or largest holes on a box grater

1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely grated flax seeds

2 tsp (10 ml) finely grated chia seeds

1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic

1 cup (150 g) All-purpose gluten-free flour (I used Bob’s Red Mill, but you can use your own mix if you prefer)

1/4 cup (30 g) coconut flour

1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking powder

1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda

1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt

2 tsp (10 ml) cinnamon

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground nutmeg

1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) ground ginger

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).  Line 6 mini loaf pans or 9 muffin cups with paper liners, or spray with nonstick spray.

In a medium bowl, place the orange zest, orange juice, Sucanat, banana, parsnip, flax seed, chia seed and oil; mix well, ensuring that the chia is well distributed and doesn’t clump.  Set aside to allow the Sucanat to dissolve somewhat.

In a large bowl, sift together the all-purpose flour, coconut flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger.  Add the wet ingredients to the dry and stir just to blend (do not overmix!). 

Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop the batter into the prepared pans (they should be quite full).  Bake for 30-35 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center loaf or muffin comes out clean.  Cool 5 minutes before turning onto a rack to cool completely.  May be frozen.

**NOTE:  These are NOT ACD-friendly recipes (since they contain banana and Sucanat; some anti-candida diets even prohibit oranges.  Sorry, my ACD cronies.) 

Last Year at this Time: Herb and Feta “Polenta” Appetizers

Two Years Ago: Turnip and Pear Soup (with apologies to Samuel Beckett)

© 2010 Diet, Dessert and Dogs

You know, there are days when I just marvel at how much my life has been enriched by joining the world of blogging. I’m amazed at how many positive experiences this little outlet for self-expression, culinary creativity and the occasional star-struck reference to my favorite soap opera has brought my way.

At the forefront, of course, is YOU–the readers and commenters.  What an inspiring group of compassionate, intelligent, witty and loyal people you are!  Thank you for coming back here on a regular basis; thank you for your thoughtful comments (I am, literally, thrilled every time I see one appear at the end of a blog entry–and they keep me coming back here, too); and thank you for your feedback and knowledgeable advice (I’m so excited to start cooking from my recently-acquired cookbooks, courtesy of your suggestions–yay Crescent Dragonwagon!).  Truly, a blog is a sorry, desolate place without its readers.

Along the way, I’ve also discovered many other blogs and bloggers, and what a revelation that has been. I was dumbfounded the other day when I realized there are now approximately 150 blogs on my Google Reader, and I seem to discover new and intriguing blogs every day (and I promise, they will all eventually make it to my blog roll).  Where were all these talented writers hiding before the advent of blogs?  Whether primarily for the recipes or mostly for the prose, I delight in reading every one and perk up each time Google informs me of a new post by a favorite blogger. Lately, I’ve been a bit remiss with my own comments on other blogs, but please know that I do read regularly and am enjoying all your posts!

Speaking of great bloggers, yesterday I had the unique pleasure of actually meeting another Toronto-area blogger, Giz from Equal Opportunity Kitchen .  As you’d expect from her posts, Giz is witty, sharp, and very, very funny. We chatted like two teenaged chums who meet up again at the 10-year high school reunion, gabbing and giggling and catching up on what we’ve been doing over the past decade.  In fact, our conversation flowed so smoothly and effortlessly that we were on our way out the door of the coffee shop before we realized we hadn’t even touched on the topic we’d ostensibly met to discuss–Giz’s “slimdown challenge” to me from a while back! Thanks, Giz, for a great start to my morning!

As many other bloggers have noted, blogging also forces enourages one to try out new recipes.  In her recent 100th post, VeggieGirl mentioned how each blog entry represents a new recipe (can it be that the HH and I have eaten 186 new dishes–not counting all those that don’t make it to the blog–since last October??).  And part of this impetus to cook novel food arrives in the form of blog events, another aspect of blogging that I thoroughly enjoy. 

These days, it seems there’s a new blog event posted almost daily; I sorely wish I could participate in all of them.  Unfortunately, my schedule at the moment prohibits too much experimentation in the kitchen.  It’s currently end of semester at the college and my marking, like all the ripe, luscious seasonal fruit, is at its peak.  I’ve got a stack of papers on my desk that just might trump the CN tower as the world’s tallest freestanding structure.  And while preparing foods for blog events is admittedly more colorful than marking essays (which involves only black and red, after all), it wouldn’t do to set aside the former for the latter (well, not too often, anyway).

Still, when I read about the Healthy Cooking: Eat Well, Live Well event hosted by Mansi at Fun and Food, I knew I had to submit something.  After all, isn’t the very raison d’être of this blog, more or less, “to create healthy, delicious foods”?  (That, and to provide The Girls a forum in which to air their observations and opinions, of course). 

(“Thanks, Mum, we appreciate that.  You know we HATE having our opinions squelched.”)

I thought about what to prepare, but my mind came up blank.  Then, while attempting to clear the non-marking clutter (eg., half-filled tea mug, empty water bottle, digital camera, sticky notes with recipe ideas, cookbooks previously used for blog entries, magazines previously used for blog inspiration, my checkbook, Bram Stoker’s Dracula [the novel, not the vampire], stray Chaser hairs, my journal, an anniversary card from the HH, and my calculator) off my desk the other night, I came across June’s issue of Cooking Light.  Where have I been living, under a rock or something? I mean, I’m aware there’s such as thing as zucchini bread, the moist and delectable quick loaf that’s a staple in many a baking household. I am also aware that your classic carrot cake is often studded with bits of juicy pineapple.  But zucchini and pineapple?  Together? It just never occurred to me.  Yet there it was, staring at me from the pages of Cooking Light.

The funny thing is, the magazine’s recipe was a “lightened-up” version of an older, original recipe, that contained 3 eggs, 1 cup oil, and 2 cups sugar.  The Cooking Light version cut back to 2 eggs (plus an additional 1/2 cup chemicals made to taste like eggs), 2/3 cup oil and 2 cups (2 CUPS!!) white sugar.  Granted, the recipe yields 2 loaves, but still–an entire cup per loaf?  Seemed a bit excessive to me.

And so, I decided to lighten the already-lightened version.  (Is that sort of like asking Michael Jackson to bleach his skin?)  Seemed to me I could accomplish a fine job of it by reducing the oil even more, and most definitely by reducing the sugar and replacing it with natural sweeteners instead.  My recent avocado kick provided yet another brilliant twist.  My ratiocination went something like this: zucchini is green.  Avocado is green.  Why not add some more green to the green, and use avocado purée instead of egg in this recipe?  Along with the Omega-3′s in the flax seeds, the avocado provides a good dose of monounsaturated fats to the batter, allowing me to reduce the oil even further. And so, my own idiosyncratic variation of zucchini-pineapple loaf was born.

The bread is fragrant with cinnamon, sweet with pineapple and soft, melting bits of chopped dates throughout.  The zucchini contributes a certain depth of flavor and even more moisture–in fact, this bread treads the very limits of moistness; any more moist, and it might not qualify as a solid.  The flavors meld and intensify once the bread is cooled and rested, so it’s even more tasty the morning after it’s made.  And like blogging, it will enrich your day with a healthy dose of sweetness and discovery.

[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.]