Some of you may recall that a while back, I was working on perfecting a grain-free, bean-based pizza crust. When I finally got the recipe just right, I was thrilled and posted a photo on Facebook.
Today, I’m delighted to present the recipe in a guest post for Susan, blogger over at The Well-Seasoned Cook. Susan originated the incredibly popular monthly blog event, My Legume Love Affair, in which food bloggers submit their best recipes using legumes (just to show you how popular the event really is, Susan’s got guest hosts already lined up through the end of 2012!). This summer, the event turned four!
To help Susan celebrate the event’s toddler status, hop on over to her blog to catch all the celebratory posts–and learn how to create a high-protein, grain-free, perfectly delicious pizza crust!
[Sometimes, you just want a dish that's quick and easy--no fuss. I've decided to offer a mini-post every once in a while, for a dish that comes together incredibly quickly or else is so simple to make that no recipe is required. Here's today's "Flash in the Pan." (For other FitP recipes, see "Categories" at right).]
There’s nothing like raw food in the summer. We’re hardwired to seek out lighter, fresher fare when the temperatures soar–and when that sunshine and humidity climb, nothing is more satisfying than biting into something icy cold, crisp, juicy and colorful (except, maybe, for sitting in a room with some energy-efficient A/C).
A while back I saw a recipe for Zucchini Bruschetta somewhere–but now can’t, for the life of me, find it again (happens all the time with my car keys, cell phone, regular phone, phone book, and dictionary of phonetics, too. Okay, not really the dictionary, but I just wanted another “phone” word in there.). Perhaps it was Martha Stewart? (because “zucchini bruschetta” does sound so very Martha, doesn’t it?),
In any case, the original featured some kind of zucchini mix atop crusty rounds of toasted baguette. Really, the original just provided me with the concept from which I invented my own–including the orangey raw replacement for the grain-heavy rounds. I think you’ll love these “crackers” as a base. If not, you can always pile the filling onto your own choice of toast–or just eat it as a salad. It’s great either way.
“Mum, we love rooms with A/C, too, you know! Not to mention raw. . . . anything.”
Supremely Summery Raw Zucchini “Brushcetta”
Summery Raw Zucchini “Bruschetta”
I enjoyed these lovely, light appetizers one evening before moving to a large kale salad, then had an apple with Raw Chocolate-Almond Butter for dessert. I hadn’t intended it to be a completely raw meal, but it came together that way, and provided a totally satisfying summer supper. And yes, you can eat raw sweet potato–in its raw form, the flavor is incredibly mild, so it doesn’t compete with the zucchini topper.
1 medium zucchini, trimmed and washed (leave skin on)
zest and juice of 1/2 lemon (about 2 Tbsp/30 ml juice)
1 small garlic clove, minced
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil or avocado oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) chopped fresh basil
pinch fine sea salt
5 drops plain stevia liquid
1 large sweet potato (or use another base, such as bread, crackers, etc.)
Using a vegetable peeler, peel the zucchini lengthwise in long strips. They shouldn’t be too wide (no more than about 1/2 inch or 1 cm). If they are wider, just stack them on top of each other on a cutting board and cut across the length to create two piles of thinner strips. Place the zucchini strips in a medium bowl.
In a smaller bowl, whisk together the lemon juice and zest, garlic, olive oil, basil, sea salt and stevia until well combined. Pour over the zucchini and toss together well. Set aside for 10-15 minutes, tossing again once or twice during this time so that the zucchini will begin to soften.
Meanwhile, prepare the base: peel the sweet potato and cut into rounds about 1/8″ (3 mm) thick.
To serve, toss the zucchini once more in the marinade so it’s well-coated. Remove 3-5 strips at a time and pile them atop each round of sweet potato. Eat immediately. Makes 9-12 servings.
Well, it seems you folks love chocolate as much as I do! Thanks to everyone who entered my spontaneous little giveaway over the weekend.
While most of the entries for the Cocoa Camino bars requested coconut, there was enough variation that every flavor got some love. So without further ado, here are the four winners:
A Coconut bar goes to: LAUREN! Lauren’s comment was, “Ooh I’ve never heard of Camino chocolate! I would love the coconut one! Yum! And that smoothie looks really satisfying!”
An Espresso bar goes to: BRENCA ALRECK! Brenda’s (very sweet) comment was, “How sweet are you that you would give away a fave that you can’t even eat?! I’m gonna have to go with espresso, then I can have chocolate for breakfast!!”
An Almond bar goes to: HAYLEY!Hayley’s comment was, “I think the Dark Chocolate with Almonds would be so good!”
A Raspberry bar goes to: NICHOLE! Nichole’s comment was, “mmm…salivating over that dark chocolate with raspberry!”
CONGRATS TO ALL THE WINNERS! Please email me at dietdessertdogsATgmailDOTcom with your mailing address so I can get these babies out to you asap.
I’ll be back later today with my final stevia-based recipe for this month’s SOS Challenge!
“Mum, you know I’m happy for the winners and everything, but couldn’t you choose a prize that Chaser and I could eat win once in a while?”
* Or, “Nutroast, Nutroast, Wherefore Art Thou, Nutroast?”
They say that everyone remembers their first time, and I am no exception. As I’ve mentioned before, I was a late bloomer, so the event is indelibly etched in my memory.
N.R was rich, deeply tan, warm and beckoning. One glance, and I couldn’t resist–I leapt right in, with gusto. Afterward, I asked myself, “Where have you been all my life?” I couldn’t get enough. I made sure that we encountered each other again–and again–every day for a week. In short, I was in love.
In love. With Nut Roast.
(What? You mean you weren’t thinking, ”N.R. = Nut Roast“?)
I hadn’t even heard of nut roast before I began this blog. Then, when I tasted my first nut roast back in 2008 (told you I was a late bloomer), I was immediately besotted, consuming it for pretty much every special occasion and holiday meal after that. And while I did manage a really yummy variation for my first ebook, Anti-Candida Feast, it seems I’ve since been unable to reproduce my initial good fortune to come up with a new take on the old inamorato.
Last December, I decided I’d create a new nutroast that would become our contemporary favorite here in the DDD household. Seeking inspiration, I turned to the Queen of Nutroast (she even held a blog event in its honor), Johanna of Green Gourmet Giraffe.
I always enjoy using buckwheat in savory dishes for its earthy, slightly nutty flavor that tends to confer a “meaty” vibe to a dish, so I included some in this. I tossed in several other favorite savory ingredients, smoothed it in the pan, set it in the preheated oven, and waited.
When it was done, it looked perfect: lightly browned crust on top, a heady aroma of fragrant herbs wafting toward me. I let it cool slightly, then tasted a nibble.
And it was delicious!
Just one small problem: the texture, unfortunately. . . was all wrong for nutroast. Too soft, too moist, too smooth. And yet. . . I couldn’t stop “tasting” it, couldn’t stop “evening out” the slice. Somehow, the flavor was incredibly familiar. . . something I’d eaten–and loved– in my younger days.
Eventually, it came to me: the taste and consistency were almost identical to that of a veggie pâté I used to buy when visiting relatives in Montreal. My old love–resurfaced! Although the original wasn’t gluten free, I knew that the flavor was remarkably similar to that of my flubbed nutroast.
Well, you know what they say about the ones you love: it’s best not to try to change them. So I decided to set aside my quest for the Consummate Nutroast (for now) and revel in the fetching qualities of my newfound Romeo, Country-Style Pâté.
I re-baked the raw mixture in a square pan and cut it into quarters, just like the Quebec-based version, so it could feel comfortable in its own crust. I spread it on crackers, where it was its true self the most; cut it into strips and stuffed it into collard leaves when it was feeling like a change of pace; and used it as a sandwich base for the HH when it asked to meet my friends.
Make no mistake: I will always have a soft spot in my heart for my first love, Nut Roast, and that will never change. But I’m older now, and my heart (and stomach) have room for different types of love. Ah, Country-Style Pâté, you bring a more mature love to my life, one that’s deeply seasoned and more nuanced, and I happily accept the uniqueness that is you.
In fact, I loved this pâté so much, I want to spread the love around. So here’s my serendipitous recipe–hope you end up feeling the love, too.
Meetup News! Maggie of She Let Them Eat Cake and I are organizing a blogger lunch meetup in downtown Toronto! Please join us for a vegan, gluten-free lunch on Saturday, March 5th at 1:00 PM. We’re leaning toward Fressen downtown. Would love to see you there! To RSVP, please email me (at dietdessertdogs AT gmail DOT com) or Maggie.
Pâté Campagne (Country Pâté): ACD Stage 1 and beyond
A perfect combination of savory, nutty, rustic flavors with just a hint sweetness from the sweet potatoes. This makes a perfect snack or meal on the go—spread it on bread or crackers, or stuff a slice in a wrap with favorite veggies.
1/2 cup (120 ml) dry buckwheat groats (kasha)
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) vegetable broth or stock
1 Tbsp (15 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, sliced
1-1/4 (300 ml) cups peeled and cubed roasted sweet potato
1 medium zucchini, trimmed and grated (you can leave the skin on)
1 tsp (5 ml) dried rosemary
1 tsp (5 ml) dried parsley
1 tsp (5 ml) dried tarragon
pinch nutmeg
3/4 cup (180 ml) lightly toasted sunflower seeds
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
3 Tbsp (45 ml) soy or chickpea flour
salt and pepper, to taste
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8-inch (20 cm) square pan with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
Bring the broth to a boil in a small pot. Add the buckwheat, lower heat to simmer, and cover. Simmer for 15-18 minutes, until the liquid is absorbed; removed from heat and set aside to cool.
Meanwhile, heat the oil in a frypan and add the onion and garlic. Sauté until the onion is golden and the garlic has begun to brown. Add the sweet potato and zucchini along with the rosemary, parsley, tarragon and nutmeg and continue to cook until the zucchini releases most of its liquid. Turn off heat.
In the bowl of a food processor, grind the sunflower seeds, flax seeds and soy flour until it reaches the consistency of a fine meal. Add the onion-vegetable mixture and process until almost smooth. Add the cooked buckwheat to the processor; process until desired consistency is reached (I like it perfectly smooth, more like a conventional pate; you can leave it a bit grainy if you prefer). Season with salt and pepper.
Turn the mixture into the prepared pan and bake 1 hour to 70 minutes, until the outside is crisp and browned. Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before slicing. Makes 6-8 servings. May be frozen.
*Or, It’s almost Valentine’s Day–time for bad puns!
When I was a teenager, I believed Valentine’s Day was all about romance–and the fact that I didn’t have a sweetheart with whom to be romantic. I’d sit at home listening to (Rod Stewart’s version of) The First Cut is the Deepeston my parents’ console stereo in our living room, fantasizing about tall, dark, handsome strangers who’d present me with a dozen long-stemmed roses; or dashing, rakish strangers (who happened to own their own chartered jets) who would sweep me off my feet and fly me to Paris for brunch. In reality, I was spending the evening alone, feeling sorry for myself and, mostly, wondering why I didn’t have a boyfriend. My parents, of course, were out for the evening, with each other–since it was Valentine’s Day.
Once I met my friend Sterlin in grade nine, she and I began to spend our Valentines Days together, watching old movies on TV and ruminating about why neither one of us had a boyfriend. One of our best February 14ths was the year they decided to broadcast that old Susan Hayward classic,I Want to Live, on TV. (You see, Oh Younger Readers, those were the days before the advent of PVRs–or even VCRs–in every home, and we were dependent upon the whims of the Great TV Programming Gods for our show selection.) We sat on the faux leather sofa in my parents’ basement hunched over a big bowl of Doritos, alternately munching and sobbing uncontrollably–especially when the laywer character (not realizing he is defending his own mother) remarks to the Susan Hayward character (who is going to face the gas chamber after being wrongfully accused of murder), ”If I had a mother, I’d want her to be just like you. “ Oh, boo hoo hoo hoo!! (Crunch, crunch).
Nowadays, although I have a sweetie with whom to share the Day of Hearts and Roses (and let’s not forget Chocolate), I still bemoan the lack of romance in my life on Valentine’s Day. The HH, you see, is many things (witty, kind, generous, incredibly artistically talented, a human trivia database, in love with our Girls), but “romantic” is not one of them. His idea of romance is reading aloud to me. . . from his “Polywell Fusion Reactor“ article.
Normally, for special occasions like Christmas or my birthday, I’ve learned to let the HH know in advance what I might like so that, at the least, he’ll show up after work with something gift-wrapped under his arm. This year for Valentine’s Day, however, I decided not to put in my usual request for chocolates (not ACD-friendly) or champagne (ditto) or flowers (I’d probably be allergic to the ones he chose) and just accept that he expresses his love in other ways. A few weeks ago, for instance, when I was feeling a little under the weather, the HH marched out into the snow and -22C (-8 F) weather with The Girls every evening to spare me having to go. And when I slowly rotate my head from side to side in an attempt to release some of the stress in my neck, he’ll often magically appear behind my desk chair and provide a mini neck-and-shoulder massage, no prompting necessary.
I hope I’ll be pleasantly surprised on Valentine’s Day, whether or not the HH’s contribution to the day is classically “romantic.” For my part, I’ve got a special celebration in mind, and it involves making Whoopee. (Pies, of course. Silly!). We’ll have chocolate, we’ll have cake, we’ll have sweetness and a light filling. And, of course, we’ll have each other. And that’s romantic enough for me.
When I first developed this recipe, I put out a note on twitter asking folks about the texture of “authentic” whoopie pies, because I had never tasted one before. I was told they were halfway between cake and cookie, slightly denser than a cake but softer than a cookie–and that’s just how these turn out. Even if they don’t taste “authentic,” I don’t mind. They’re delicious in their own right.
Pies:
2/3 cup (160 ml) unsweetened plain or vanilla soy, almond, rice or coconut milk (the type in a carton, not a can)
1/3 cup (80 ml) coconut sugar
30-40 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to your taste
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) apple cider vinegar
2 tsp (10 ml) pure vanilla extract
2 Tbsp (30 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 Tbsp (30 ml) tahini (sesame seed paste)
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds (meal)
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp ( g) teff flour
1/3 cup (50 g) millet flour
1/4 cup (60 ml) potato starch
1/4 cup (60 ml) unsweetened cocoa powder
2 tsp (10 ml) baking powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) xanthan gum
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) fine sea salt
Filling:
one batch of ACD-Friendly Chocolate “Buttercream” Frosting, from here, or your favorite thick frosting
Make the pies:
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment or spray wtih nonstick spray.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the milk, coconut sugar, stevia, vinegar, vanilla, oil, tahini and flax until smooth. Set aside while you measure the dry ingredients, or at least 5 minutes.
In a small bowl, sift together the teff flour, millet flour, potato starch, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, xanthan gum and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and stir until combined. Using an ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, scoop out batter and place in mounds on cookie sheet. Wet your palms and flatten the mounds so that they are uniformly about 1/2 inch (1.25 cm) thick all over.
Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes, then rotate cookie sheets and bake another 5-7 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool 5 minutes before removing to a rack to cool completely.
Assemble the pies:
Once cooled, cut each cookie in half horizontally (as if cutting a sandwich roll). Spread 1-2 Tbsp (15-30 ml) of frosting (or more, to taste) on the cut side of the bottom of each cookie; replace the top of each cookie over the frosting. Enjoy! May be frozen, either as-is or after they’ve been filled with frosting. Defrost, well-wrapped, overnight in the refrigerator. Makes 6 large whoopee pies.
“Mum, we wouldn’t mind staying home watching a movie on Valentine’s Day if we could munch on those Doritos, too. . . or else maybe we could make our own canine form of whoopee by just playing outside. As in, ‘It’s snowing–Whoooopeeeee!’”
I hope you’re all having a great long weekend! I am thoroughly enjoying the last vestiges of the summer holiday. (What?? Summer is over? Back to school and sweaters and crinkly leaves on the ground and pelting rain and mud and paw prints all over the carpet and frigid mornings and seeing your breath as you huddle toward the car–in the dark–and cranking up the heat and pulling out the jackets and scarves and gloves and snow–snow!–and ah, me, it’s winter and—)
Sigh. Sorry about that little outburst. I’ve regained my composure, now.
Besides, now that I’m an adult (chronologically, anyway), I do realize that autumn isn’t all bad. There’s the flavorful fall produce, and hand knit sweaters (which are so good at covering up those midsection lumps and bumps) and corduroy, and crisp, fresh air that sharpens everything, as if the houses and trees and automobiles have been outlined with a thin tracing of ink.
Oh, and a bevvy of holidays.
When I was growing up, we shared a duplex with my aunt’s family just upstairs. Because Aunty M (no relation to The Wizard of Oz) was almost 20 years older than my mom, and because our grandparents had died before we were born, we kids always thought of Aunty M as more ”grandmother” than “aunt.” And let me tell you, nothing could compare to holidays at Grandma’s house.
The otherwise utilitarian kitchen table, a long wooden rectangle stained and etched from years of daily use, would be pushed into the living room (there was no dining room), with what looked like its metal-and-plastic progeny–the folding card table–set beside it (that was where the kids sat, of course). Freshly laundered and pressed white tablecloths were shaken out and smoothed into place, intersecting lines permanently engrained in their weave from having sat, folded neatly in blocks in the linen closet, for the remainder of the year.
On these occasions, my real grandmother’s silverware was fetched from the basement, a lone “K” engraved proudly on the handle of each knife, fork and spoon. We had actual napkins at the table for once, and soda (or “ginger ale,” as we referred to all types of carbonated beverages) was served in glass pitchers rather than directly from the plastic bottles. Glasses were set out and glistened, scalloped pickle plates were laid out, and the entire house began to buzz with anticipation.
My mother and my aunt would spend days preparing in the kitchen as we children wandered in and out, plucking raisins from cookie dough or absconding with whole chunks of semisweet chocolate. We’d peek at the huge pots like mysterious cauldrons bubbling and spurting on the stovetop, never venturing too close. At same time, the oven toiled all day as it transformed jiggly pans into cakes, cookies, or kugels, warming the kitchen and spreading the aroma of chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla and apple throughout the house.
Holidays were family occasions, shared with as many relatives as possible. I loved it when my cousin CBC and her family made the trek from Boston, since her kids were close to my age and their arrival always meant days filled with giggling, plays in the back yard, a co-conspirator with whom to tease the CFO, and extra treats for everyone. Despite anything that had preceded, the holiday dinners themselves were always happy affairs; adults were jovial and relaxed, we kids were allowed to indulge in second helpings of dessert, and everyone embraced the festive atmosphere. Whether it was a holiday, anniversary, or birthday celebration, we all came together to enjoy each other’s company along with the feast.
(When the HH and I were first together, I was both shocked and appalled to discover that he grew up in a home that didn’t celebrate holidays. No big family gatherings; no special meals; no gifts. “All days are special,” was his (otherwise normal) dad’s philosophy. “Every day is a holiday.” In fact, the HH was so accustomed to his family’s indifference about such things that he didn’t bother to get me a birthday present that first year we shared a house. Oh, yes. Hysteria [mine] ensued. Contrition [his] followed closely behind. And no, he hasn’t made the same mistake since.)
This year, I was feeling a little disheartened at the prospect of those imminent celebrations and Christmas just around the corner (for which I now supply a list of desired items to the HH every year) precisely because food has always played such an integral role in our family gatherings. I hadn’t anticipated still being on the ACD by now, you see. No feasting? No wine with dinner? No–dessert?!
It was almost enough to make me jump on the HH’s ”let’s just ignore the date” bandwagon. But then I realized two things: first, we could still make the days special. We can still set a beautiful table and make a point of sharing the evening with friends or family. We can still enjoy nature’s bounty. And I can still enjoy special-occasion foods; they just won’t be the same ones I used to eat as a child.
In fact, once I began to think about it, I was amazed at how many foods have found their way back into my diet.
First, there was chocolate–albeit unsweetened–but chocolate nonetheless. In Stage Two, the ACD gave me fruit. Previously forbidden apples (and pears, and berries, and peaches and nectarines) were welcomed back to the menu. Finally, as the symptoms continue to abate (they’re about 95% cleared up, now) the universe continues to bestow more and more low glycemic sweeteners. And the Universe said, “Let there be coconut sugar. And with it, let there be the occasional agave nectar.” And so, life is good.
This pear and cranberry cornmeal cake is the first cake I concocted with coconut sugar. Since corn is so often a symbol of autumn harvest, I thought cornmeal would be a perfect ingredient to include in this celebration dessert. Like the coconut sugar, corn is an “occasional” food on the ACD. Pears are abundant right now, and cranberries are quintessential harbingers of the holidays and the festive season.
Like sparklers on a birthday cake, the cranberries in this moist, dense sweet add glitter and verve, a tangy counterpart to the smooth sweetness of the pear chunks dotted throughout. The cake presents a surprisingly fine crumb, and the addition of lemon zest brightens everything. In fact, this dessert was so good that I took a first bite and immediately thought, “Oh, no, I’m not supposed to be eating this on the ACD” before realizing that “Oh, yes, I am allowed this on the ACD!”
Well, in moderation. It is a special occasion food, after all. But then again, despite what the HH’s father may have thought, it’s not every day we celebrate a holiday.
For those of you who celebrate, have a Happy Rosh Hashanah!
I thought this cake would be an ideal submission to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event. Hop over and take a look at all the other delicious creations!
DDD News and Updates:
There’s a New (FREE!) Ebook from the lovely Alisa of Go Dairy Free and One Frugal Foodie. When she noticed the sorry state of back-to-school foods in her area, Alisa decided to do something about it and recruited a group of food bloggers to contribute recipes for an e-cookbook. The book, Smart School Time Recipes, contains over 125 recipes (a few from yours truly!) for healthy, kid-friendly breakfasts, snacks, lunches and more! You can download the cookbook directly from Alisa’s blog, here. Have I mentioned that it’s FREE?
And don’t forget there’s my new ebook, Desserts without Compromise, for $9.95 (available here). Or buy both ebooks for just $16.95. Great for holiday meals and desserts if you’re on a special diet!
I also wrote a guest post last week for Amy’s blog, Simply Sugar and Gluten Free. Amy’s recipes and mine have a lot in common. Somehow the perfect recipe match brought to mind the perfect life partner. . . so that’s what I wrote about! Check out the post here. I had lots of fun writing it.
DDD Gets Around:
Again this week, I’ve been honored that several DDD recipes were prepared or mentioned by other bloggers or writers! Here are some of the recipes you’ve all made or blogged about:
Did you cook up something from the blog or one of my cookbooks? Let me know if I’ve missed your post and I’ll add it next time! (for cookbook recipes, please ask permission before posting).
Pear and Cranberry Cornmeal Cake (suitable for ACD Stage 3 and beyond)
This cake is the perfect combination of light yet substantial with sweet yet tart. It’s a great way to end a meal or carry you through in between one to the next. Feel free to substitute apples for the pears here.
1/3 cup (80 ml) coconut sugar
1/2 to 1 tsp (2.5 to 5 ml) pure stevia powder (I used NuNaturals)
3/4 cup (360 ml) unsweetened plain or vanilla almond or soy milk
1 tsp (5 ml) apple cider vinegar
1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely ground chia seeds
2 tsp (10 ml) pure vanilla extract
zest of one lemon
1/4 cup (60 ml) coconut oil, preferably organic, melted
1-1/2 cups (200 g) Bob’s Red Mill all purpose gluten free flour (or your own blend)
1/4 cup (35 g) brown rice flour
1 Tbsp (15 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) fine sea salt
3/4 tsp (7.5 ml) xanthan gum
1/2 cup (85 g) cornmeal, preferably organic
2 pears, cored and diced (I didn’t bother to peel, but go ahead if you wish)
1 cup (240 ml) fresh or frozen cranberries
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line a ten inch (25 cm) flan pan, springrorm pan or pie plate with parchment, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the coconut sugar, stevia, milk, vinegar, chia, vanilla and lemon zest until the sugar has dissolved. Add the coconut oil and whisk to blend. Set aside.
In a large bowl, sift the all purpose flour, rice flour, baking powder, baking soda, sea salt and xanthan gum. Add the cornmeal and stir together to distribute everything evenly.
Pour the wet mixture over the dry and stir to blend well. Fold in the pears and cranberries. Turn the batter into prepared pan and gently smooth the top. Bake in preheated oven for 35-45 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through, until a tester inserted in the middle comes out clean. Serve warm or at room temperature. Makes 8-10 servings. May be frozen.
When my sisters and I were kids, my parents used to play Poker every Saturday evening with their group of friends. They’d play from around 7:00 to 9:00 PM, stop for coffee, snacks, and a gabfest, then continue with the cards for another hour or so before everyone headed home.
The group would rotate hosts, so that our abode was Poker Central once every month or so. I always secretly dreaded when my mom’s best friend hosted (since we kids had to tag along–babysitters were too expensive) because she always served “salmon salad,” consisting of one can of salmon that had been hastily mashed with some Miracle Whip–skin, bones, and all–and it grossed me out completely (my mom, you see, would gingerly scrape the skin off the flesh and then carefully extract the soft needle-like bones and vertebrae before mashing up her salmon salad–with real mayonnaise, I’ll have you know. It wasn’t until years later, living on my own, that I discovered my mother, and not her friend, was the anomaly.)
Canned salmon aside, the hosts also always served a generous assortment of desserts, and we kids took full advantage of our parents’ reluctance to berate us in front of friends, helping ourselves to at least one of each sweet when they hit the table. And in the realm of baked treats, my mother reigned supreme.
Despite what my teenaged self perceived as a sappiness and lack of self-confidence in my mum (which, as it turned out, was actually sappiness and lack of self-confidence), I always admired her ability to whip up a Farmer’s Cheesecake (one of my father’s favorite treats), cinnamon coffee cake or her (legendary, among her friends and our family) Chiffon Cake.
Almost a foot high and with an airy, spongy crumb, speckled throughout with shards of grated chocolate, the chiffon cake became Mom’s signature dish, highly anticipated at those weekend card games, expected at every holiday dinner, even transported across borders when we visited our American cousins, loosely swathed in aluminum foil and packed between multiple pillowy layers of paper toweling within not one, but two cardboard boxes, as if she were transporting blood samples, or a bomb.
The other staple in my mother’s baking repertoire was the classic chocolate chip cookie. Every year during the holidays our kitchen turned into a cookie lab where my sisters and I would help Mom try out a dozen or so new cookies from the pages she’d torn out of women’s magazines or from her cookbooks. But Chocolate Chip Cookies were the regular Joe throughout the rest of the year, consumed on Sundays when we ate dinner with my aunt’s family, who lived upstairs; when we got home from school on weekday afternoons; or during those weekly Poker games.
Ironically, it was my dad’s Great Aunt Yetta, and not my mother, who taught me to bake my first batch of my favorite cookie. Great Aunt Yetta (about whom I wrote here), took over our kitchen the summer she lived with us (her planned two-week visit mysteriously morphed into a month, then six weeks; of course I thought my mum was rather sappy to let her stay, but for some unknown reason, her husband didn’t seem to miss her).
I floated through that summer in Chocolate Chip Cookie nervana, baking them at least ten times during those six weeks. I’d savor the raw dough, of course, even before placing it in mounds on the cookie sheets (still the best part of the procedure, in my opinion). Then I’d relish the just-baked treats, barely cool enough to handle, their edges crisping up even as the centers remained soft, dense and moist inside, with chips barely holding their shape, yet still warm enough to ooze onto your fingertips when you bit them.
Classically sweet and chewy, with a buttery perfume of brown sugar–what could be better than chocolate chip cookies?
Of course, there was no question that I’d include a healthier version of the childhood classic when I decided to write my cookbook, Sweet Freedom, a couple of years ago. Lacking the original refined sugar, fat and eggs of the prototype, the cookbook version is nonetheless dense inside and slightly crispy at the edges, boasting a combination of dates, Sucanat and maple syrup to stand in for the original eggs and butter. After many trials, I was finally pleased with the recipe–and the cookies regularly sold out in the health food stores at which they were sold.
I planned to demonstrate how easy it is to adapt conventional recipes to gluten-free versions by taking the original Sweet Freedomrecipe and simply swapping gluten free all-purpose flour for the spelt. As often happens, I found that a one-for-one swap (despite the instructions on the bag) doesn’t always work out as planned. Accordingly, I added just a bit of brown rice flour, for heft–and, what do you know–it worked perfectly! I couldn’t have been more pleased with the result.
I’m happy to say these cookies are as good as the ones I used to bake, all those years ago. The HH loved these, as did the cooking class participants. Indeed, these are chocolate chip cookies you’d be proud to serve to family and friends.
Just please, promise not to serve them with canned salmon.
This is my submission this week to Amy’s wonderful Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event. Why not submit something healthy of your own?
And a little reminder. . . Sweet Freedom is still on sale for one more week, at 30% off retail price (including taxes and shipping)! Check this page to learn more or to order.
1/2 cup (90 g) Sucanat or unrefined evaporated cane juice
1/4 cup (60 ml) pure maple syrup
2 Tbsp (30 ml) finely ground flax seeds
1 Tbsp (15 ml) pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup (80 ml) coconut oil at room temperature
1-1/2 cups (360 ml) all purpose GF flour (Bob’s Red Mill)
1/2 cup (75 g) brown rice flour
1 tsp (5 ml) baking powder
1/4 tsp (1 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) xanthan gum
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
1/4 tsp (1 ml) cinnamon
2/3 cup (140 g) chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 375F (190C). Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
Pour 1/2 cup boiling water over dates in a small bowl or glass measuring cup so that all dates are covered. Let sit for 8-10 minutes, until dates are soft. Do not drain.
Place dates with any leftover water, Sucanat, maple syrup, flax seeds, vanilla and coconut oil in a the bowl of a food processor and process until smooth. Allow to cool while you prepare the dry ingredients.
In a large bowl, sift together the all purpose flour, rice flour, baking powder, baking soda, xanthan gum, salt and cinnamon. Whisk to blend well. Add the wet mixture (be sure it’s at room temperature) and chocolate chips and mix well. You should have a very stiff but slightly sticky dough.
Using a small ice cream scoop or teaspoon, scoop dough onto cookie sheets. Wet your palms and flatten the cookies to about 1/4 inch thick.
Bake in preheated oven for 8-11 minutes, rotating sheets halfway through, until tops are dry and begin to puff (the cookies should still be soft). Allow to cool completely before removing from sheets. Makes 24-28 cookies. May be frozen.
After reading through the comments on yesterday’s SOS Challenge reveal post (this month’s ingredient is MINT and Kim and I can’t wait to see what y’all cook up with it!), I realized I may have sounded perhaps a wee bit whiney about everything that’s going on in my life right now. I certainly didn’t mean to imply that I was on the precipice of a nervous breakdown (well, no more than usual, anyway)
It’s true, I’ve got a lot going on right now. But of course, I am also fully aware that it’s (mostly) of my own doing, too, as I keep adding more and more activities to my schedule. Like so many women out there (and let’s face it, this is primarily a problem for women), I must learn to say “no” more often. For my own physical and mental health. For peace of mind. For the others I care about in my life (because what good will I be to them if I’m a babbling puddle of melting goo?).
(“Um, Mum, sorry to have to break it to you, but you have no trouble saying “NO!” to us. None whatsoever. And anyway, what’s so wrong about gently picking that leftover chocolate cupcake out of the garbage? You and Dad weren’t going to eat it.”)
In fact, my overflowing schedule was actually pivotal in this month’s choice of SOS ingredient; requesting mint-based recipes was really a selfish choice on my part. After considering the overflowing patch of mint at the side of our house, I decided that I needed some creative inspiration to find recipes that would use it up. And so, I’m counting on all of you to save me by providing a huge array of awesome recipes! So settle back, settle into your chef persona and start creating–use fresh, dried, or mint extract–your choice!
In the meantime, here’s my mint ice cream recipe, as promised. This is something I created so that those of us on the ACD (or with dairy, egg, gluten or sugar dietary restrictions) can enjoy ice cream in the summer, too. Imagine: no more silent (or, in my case, not so silent) suffering while your honey and friends gobble up the “real” thing! This verseion is easy and, if you’ve got a food processor, really quick, too. The texture is silken smooth, creamy, and has just the right kick of mint.
So go ahead–it’s real ice cream, and you can enjoy yourself with a clear conscience. Now, if only I could clear my schedule as well.
And even though this ice cream truly does taste more than “slightly” indulgent, I’m submitting the recipe to Amy’s Slightly Indulgent Tuesdays event to showcase the healthy aspect of the recipe. Hop over to Amy’s blog to see what else is on the list!
Easy Mint Carob (or Chocolate) Chip Ice Cream (suitable for ACD Stage 1 and beyond)
This recipe will appear in my upcoming ebook on ACD-friendly desserts, available August 19th! The ice cream was a huge hit with the HH, my friends and the ebook testers.
1 large ripe pear (6.5 oz or 190g), cored (peel if desired—not necessary)
about 1/3 cup (80 ml) avocado purée (from one small to medium just-ripe avocado)
45-70 fresh mint leaves (depending on the size of leaves and your taste)
20-30 drops plain or vanilla stevia liquid, to your taste
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1 can (400 ml or 14 oz) full-fat organic coconut milk (I use Thai Kitchen)
1/2 cup (120 ml) unsweetened plain or vanilla soy or almond milk
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) pure mint extract, optional (but it really brings out the flavor)
Pinch fine sea salt
1/2 cup (120 ml) unsweetened carob or chocolate chips (1 Tbsp/15 ml per serving)
Line an 8” (20 cm) square pan with two pieces of waxed paper, overlapping paper in either direction to cover all sides of the pan; or place 10 silicon muffin cups in a muffin tin; or set out three silicon ice-cube trays.
Place all ingredients except carob chips in a high-powered blender and blend until perfectly smooth. Pour into the pan, muffin cups or ice cube trays and freeze until firm. Pop the mixture out of the muffin cups or ice cube trays and place in a clean food-grade plastic bag in the freezer until ready to use. If using the square pan, remove from pan by flipping out onto a cutting board as soon as the mixture is frozen solid, about 4 hours, and peeling off the waxed paper. Cut into 8-10 equal squares; place squares in a plastic bag in the freezer until ready to use.
To make the ice cream, remove the desired servings from the freezer bag (one muffin cup per serving, or 4 ice cubes, or one square from the square pan) and place in the bowl of a food processor. Process until the mixture resembles the texture of bread crumbs, then scrape down sides and continue to process just until it begins to form a ball. Using a rubber spatula, spread out the mixture in the processor bowl to cover the bottom; sprinkle with the reserved carob chips (enough for the number of servings selected). Replace the processor cover and pulse 5-10 times, just enough to break up most of the chips and distribute them through the mixture. Scoop into bowls and eat immediately. Makes 8 servings.
[EDIT, May 2011: I'm linking up this recipe to Brittany's weekly Seasonal Sundays event, as it features mint!]
Remember that first blush of new love, those early days when you were still keen to learn every little thing about your sweetheart? A casual glance around the back yard revealed the emerald hue of the grass, the red of the tomato plants, the coral of the peonies all mysteriously so much sharper and more intense, as if your world had suddenly graduated to HD. The woman at the A & P checkout was actually friendly for once, even smiling when she returned your change. Even your office cubicle, previously no more than a cramped, beige, barren receptacle, seemed to brighten a little, become a source of personal pride and production.
Ah, the unblemished enthusiasm of a new relationship, when you were still willing to do almost anything to please your partner. You want to go see the movie 10,000 BC? Sure, I’d love to, I’ve always been a huge fan of big game hunting! There’s an exhibit at the Science Center on “The Demographics of Star Trek: From Vulcan to Romulin and Beyond”? Well, count me in, I’m just fascinated by the mating habits of those pointy-eared dudes! Can we spend the weekend at my buddy Alfie’s helping him rebuild his 1972 Corvette engine? You betcha! Grease and metal–two of my favorite things!
In those early days, you would never dream of facing your beloved without having showered, shaved, or styled your hair. Mascara was meticulously applied; earrings carefully chosen to complement the pattern of your (new) skirt. And forays to Victoria’s Secret became a regular occurrence, so you could invest in frilly unmentionables you likely would never have glanced at otherwise (though I’m sorry, I could just never get behind the thong craze. Or get it behind me, either, for that matter).
Eventually, of course, you both relax and become accustomed to being together. Really, why bother with contacts the minute you leap out of bed, if you’re just reading the paper in your flannel robe at the kitchen table sipping coffee? And this old Counting Crows T-shirt is so much more comfy than those slippery, frilly babydolls, isn’t it? And let’s face it, cotton briefs just feel better under jeans. It’s the weekend–does it really matter if you walk the dogs in sweats and runners, or if you postpone that shower until after you’ve finished your gardening? You’re just going to sweat again, anyway.
Well, during those first starry-eyed few months of our relationship, before we both abandoned the faςade for good, the HH was still making an attempt to impress me. Um, let me rephrase that; it was probably more like during the first month or so that the HH was occasionally trying to impress me. Okay, maybe not a whole month. All right, fine; it was only once. But that one time was very impressive.
You see, the HH’s notion of “impressing me,” like his notion of everything else, was atypical. He isn’t one for flowers (which he has bought for me a total of two times in our 13 years together); or for giving me chocolates (twice); or jewelry (once). No, the HH’s concept of “how to impress a gal” was to cook for me. And, also characteristic of the HH, he went all out, planning a four-course dinner for me–and six guests.
I won’t get into the details, but suffice it to say that the “only” place he could buy his meat (this was during my physician-ordered “return to meat” phase, during my first candida cleanse; I’m smarter now) was the most expensive market in the city, and since he didn’t own any kitchen utensils or equipment, he bought them there, too, and since the recipe required a very expensive, French, red wine, he picked that up as well, and. . . 11 hours and a full week’s paycheck later, eight of us enjoyed a massive feast and hugely successful party that carried on until the single-digit hours of the morning.
The HH has never cooked since.
For my part, I felt I had to reciprocate. Throwing dinner parties in those heady days of my “social thirties” was no hardship, but I knew the dessert had to be spectacular. I happily put together a menu and spent the weekend cooking. And while I have no recollection of the main course that evening, I do recall that this salad kicked off the festivities, and became a repeated feature at parties all that summer. (Of course I remember the dessert as well: a towering concoction that was part meringue and part genoise, its strata stuck together with alternating layers of mocha buttercream and chocolate ganache, topped with handmade chocolate lace decorations and gold dragees. It made an incredibly impressive end to the meal–and breakfast the next morning).
In addition to being aesthetically appealing with its variety of shapes and colors, the salad offers a light yet satisfying first course or side dish. As we all know, it’s the dressing that “makes” a salad, and this one is magical. The jalapeno subtext underscores the fragrant, slightly sweet tarragon, all in tandem with the vibrant colors and textures of the veggies. You could probably sub almost any vegetables of your choice (I bet green beans and beets would go nicely), so feel free to change them up as you like.
About a week ago, I stumbled across the recipe on a wayward magazine page as I was leafing through my recipe folders. After a Proustian moment of salivating reverie, I decided to recreate the salad for dinner that night, grill or no grill.
As we sat across from each other at our unadorned kitchen table (the morning’s paper still piled off to the side), munching on the mélange of grilled veggies, herbs and seeds, the HH and I were momentarily transported back to that early summer of dinner parties and getting to know each other.
“I remember this one,” the HH remarked, a dreamy smile on his face. ”This salad is terrific.” I may have even detected the hint of a long-lost gleam in his eye.
He may have been sporting a three-day stubble and ragged college-era T-shirt; I may have been still wearing my workout gear and glasses (I don’t even own contacts any more); the salad may have been more work than we’re used to these days, but it was worth it.
“Yes,” I replied, smiling at my sweetheart. “I”d say it’s very impressive.”
A great dish to make for a BBQ or buffet table. With its rainbow mix of colors and fragrant fresh herb dressing, this salad has something to please everyone.
Salad:
1 each yellow and green zucchini
1 each sweet green and red pepper, cored
1 large carrot, peeled
1 large eggplant
1/3 cup (80 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
1/4 tsp (1 ml) each salt and pepper
1/4 cup (60 ml) sunflower seeds, lightly toasted
Dressing:
1 Tbsp (15 ml) chopped fresh tarragon leaves
1 Tbsp (15 ml) fresh lemon juice
1 Tbsp (15 ml) balsamic vinegar (for ACD: use apple cider vinegar)
5-8 drops plain liquid stevia, to taste
2 green onions, chopped
1 small clove garlic, minced
pinch each, fine sea salt and pepper
1/4 cup (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
Cut both zucchini, both peppers, carrot and eggplant lengthwise into 1/2 inch (1 cm) thick slices. In a large bowl, whisk together the oil, garlic, jalapeno, salt and pepper; add vegetables and toss to coat.
Place vegetables, in batches, on greased grill over medium heat; close lid and cook, turning occasionally, for about 10 minutes or just until tender-crisp. Let cool on cutting board and then cut into 2 x 1/2 inch (5 x 1 cm) sticks. Set aside.
Prepare dresssing: In a large bowl, combine tarragon, lemon juice, vinegar, stevia, green onion, garlic, salt and pepper; gradually whisk in oil. Add vegetables and stir to coat. Serve sprinkled with sunflower seeds. Makes 6 servings. Will keep, covered, in refrigerator up to 2 days.
