Just a quick note to share some exciting news: my recipe for Orange-Infused Chocolate Almond Cake is featured in this month’s Clean Eatingmagazine!
When I was asked by the folks at the magazine to create a recipe for a healthy, fudgy chocolate cake (that met the Clean Eatingrequirements, of course–basically the NAG diet that I follow anyway), I was thrilled and got to work! I actually submitted the recipe last summer, but that’s how far in advance the schedule is planned. I didn’t want to mention anything until I saw it in print with my own eyes. . . and now it’s finally here–yay! Wow, did their food stylist ever make that cake look gorgeous (the pic above is mine, not theirs–the magazine version is much more attractive!)
For those of you who can get the magazine where you live, it’s the March/April issue, with a bowl of Black-Eyed Pea Stew on the cover and the banner headline, “Try Our Chocolate-Almond Cake: Enjoy a Second Guilt-Free Slice”. And while my recipe was mentioned on the cover, to see my name credited, you have to squint really hard, then look at the teeny, tiny, teensy weensy little print along the fold to the right of the recipe (which is on the last page of the mag, in the “Happy Endings” section).
For those who are interested, the magazine is based on the philosophy/diet of Tosca Reno, who wrote the book Eat Clean. Some of the articles in this particular issue include 5-ingredient entrées, nutritious snacks, allergy-proofing your home, risotto by Food Network host Aida Mollenkamp, and antioxidant berries, goji and acai (and no, I have no personal stake in the magazine–I’m not affiliated with them in any way except for having developed that recipe for them).
I wish I could reprint the recipe here, but I can’t, as Clean Eating purchased the recipe rights as well. But I think you can at least get an idea from the photo above!
New recipe next post, I promise
PS Vegan/Vegetarian readers take note: while 22 of the 68 recipes in the magazine are vegetarian, most do contain eggs or dairy (mine doesn’t, of course!).
“Mum, if clean eating means ‘cleaning out your bowl every time you eat,’ then I think we could write for that magazine, too. Or maybe we could just be taste-testers. Much better than eating snow, I’m sure.”
Are you looking forward to V-Day next week? Seems most people either love it or hate it. Being from the “never too much schmaltz” school of romance, I love Valentine’s Day. Even during all those years before I met the HH, I’d always endeavor to celebrate somehow. I’d send cards to my friends or my sisters. I’d invite a gal pal for dinner so we could sip Shiraz together and muse about how few good men there were out there. One year, I think I even bought myself roses (must have been my “I am woman, hear me roar” phase).
The contest asks you to create a romantic dish using one or more vegetables of your choice. Last year, I came up with a Vegan Molten Chocolate Cake recipe using puréed zucchini and spinach. I loved the taste of the cakes, but the molten filling was temperamental–sometimes it formed a lovely, floating cloud of lava in the center of the cake, as it was supposed to do; other times, the filling got sucked up by the batter and all that remained was a tiny disk of tar-like chocolate at its core. You’d think I’d give up on sweets with veggies in them. But no. . .
As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, sweet potatoes are my favorite vegetable. I love sweet potatoes in just about anything (or, as I’ve seen the phrase skipping around the blogosphere lately, I lurrrve sweet potatoes). When I was on the anti-candida diet several years ago, sweet potatoes became my favorite veggie (and my favorite brekkie). They’re a healthy vegetable. They’re orange. They’re sweet. And their name sounds like a term of endearment: “Oh, why so coy, my little Sweet Potato? Come on over here and let me help you out of that peel.” Why not use them as the basis for a sweet filling in a Valentine’s Day truffle, then?
This year’s recipe really should have made it into the cookbook–it’s that good. What you’ll end up with is an insanely creamy, smooth, rich-tasting truffle filling, vibrantly orange and steeped in citrus flavor. In fact, no one would ever guess it contained one of the world’s healthiest roots. I fed 0ne of these beauties to the HH, and he literally licked his fingers clean, enthusing, ”This tastes exactly like a really fine quality, high-end chocolate!” This from a guy who’d normally consume chocolates with cream, butter and white sugar. “There is no trace of sweet potato flavor in these,” he went on. “All you taste is the orange” (enhanced with a splash of Cointreau–though you can use orange juice if you prefer alcohol-free confections).
Even if you’re not into chocolates, the filling on its own makes a fabulous, versatile frosting. Rich and fluffy, sweetened with agave and boasting the added fiber of the sweet potato, I’m guessing that the total GI (glycemic index) of this frosting is fairly low and could be used successfully by those on a variety of restricted diets. (See instructions in the Variation, below).
I’ll definitely be making these again for V-Day (the half-batch I concocted is already long gone). Even if you don’t celebrate the Big V, it’s worth making a batch of these. Give yourself a little gift of Vegetable Love this year.
This is my submission to Susan’s contest. You have until tomorrow at midnight to enter if you’re so inclined!
Spiked Sweet Potato Truffles or Truffle Cups
Filling:
1 cup (240 ml) packed sweet potato purée, from one very large sweet potato (see instructions)
3 Tbsp (45 ml) organic cornstarch, plus up to one more Tbsp (15 ml), if necessary (see instructions)
1/3 cup (80 g) refined organic coconut oil (or use unrefined if you don’t mind a coconut flavor) plus up to 2 more Tbsp (30 ml), if necessary to thicken the filling (see instructions)
finely grated zest of one large organic orange (I used a microplane grater)
1/4 cup (35 g) light spelt flour
1/8 tsp (.5 ml) fine sea salt
1/3 cup (80 ml) light agave nectar
1/2 cup (120 ml) plain or vanilla rice milk
2 Tbsp (30 ml) Cointreau or liqueur of your choice (Frangelico also worked well in these), or substitute orange juice
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
Chocolate Coating or Cups:
1 cup (200 g) dairy free chocolate chips or chopped semisweet chocolate
1 tsp (5 ml) refined organic coconut oil (or use unrefined if you don’t mind a coconut flavor)
Make the sweet potato purée in advance: Preheat oven to 400F (200 C). Place unskinned sweet potato on a baking sheet and bake until very tender, about an hour. (You can boil the sweet potato instead of baking it, but I find the flavor is vastly inferior that way.) Allow to cool, then peel and purée the flesh in a food processor until very smooth.
Measure out 1 scant cup (230 ml) of the purée and reserve the rest for another use. Return the one cup purée to the processor along with the cornstarch and coconut oil, and blend until very smooth.
In a small, heavy-bottomed pot, whisk together the flour, salt and agave nectar until smooth. Add the rice milk slowly and whisk until incorporated; sttir in the orange zest. (Combining the flour and agave first before the milk helps to prevent lumps from forming).
Cook the mixture over medium heat, stirring constantly, until it begins to bubble and thicken; lower heat to simmer and cook, stirring constantly, for about 30 more seconds. The mixture will thicken very suddenly and you’ll need some muscle power to keep stirring; it will end up like a very thick paste or glue. (A silicon spatula is useful when stirring, as you can scrape the sides and bottom of the pot to prevent scorching). Remove from heat and stir in the liqueur and vanilla until combined.
Turn the hot mixture directly into the processor bowl with the sweet potato and whir until the mixture is perfectly smooth and creamy. It should be soft, but stiff enough to hold a shape.
If the mixture is too thin to hold a shape, it may be that your sweet potatoes were moister than mine (the amount of moisture in the potatoes will vary from batch to batch). You can try one of these two things:
To thicken the filling (only if necessary): 1) Melt an additional 2 Tbsp (30 ml) coconut oil. With the processor running, slowly add the oil to the mixture and blend it in. It should thicken up nicely. OR, 2) Add another 1 Tbsp (15 ml) cornstarch to the processor bowl, and blend it in to the mixture.
For truffles: Pour the filling into a deep bowl and refrigerate until cold and firm, at least 3 hours. Then, using a melon baller, mini ice cream scoop or teaspoon, scoop balls of filling onto a cookie sheet that’s been lined with plastic wrap; place in the freezer until firm.
Once the truffle filling is frozen, proceed to dip the truffles: In a bowl set over a pot of simmering water (the bowl should be large enough that the bottom of the bowl doesn’t touch the water), melt the chocolate and coconut oil together until smooth. Using two forks held facing each other, dip the truffles one at a time, tapping the forks on the edge of the bowl to release excess chocolate, and place them on the plastic. Allow to firm up in the refrigerator (they will actually begin to firm up fairly quickly because of the frozen filling) Using more melted chocolate, decorate tops with swirls or heart shapes if desired. Store in the refrigerator, but serve at room temperature. Makes 12-15 truffles.
For chocolate truffle cups: Set the filling aside while you prepare the chocolate cups. In a bowl set over a pot of simmering water (the bowl should be large enough that the bottom of the bowl doesn’t touch the water), melt the chocolate and coconut oil together until smooth. Use about 3/4 tsp (3.5 ml) to coat the bottom and up the sides of 12-15 mini foil cups. Place the cups in the freezer for a couple of minutes to firm up.
Using 1-2 tsp (5-10 ml) of filling for each cup, fill the chocolate cups with the sweet potato mixture and smooth the top. Return to the freezer for another 5 minutes or so until the tops of the filling are firm.
Cover each cup with another 1 tsp (5 ml) chocolate, and spread it gently to cover, ensuring that the chocolate is sealed at the edges and no bits of sweet pototo show through. Keep refrigerated until firm, then remove from fridge , immediately peel off the paper cups, and allow to come to room temperature before serving (these are much better served at room temperature, but the cups will stick to them if you try to unwrap them once they’re no longer cold). Makes 12-15 truffle cups.
Frosting Variation: After the filling is prepared, turn it into a deep bowl and refrigerate until cold and very firm, at least 2 hours.
Using electric beaters, beat the mixture until it begins to lighten both in color and texture (it will become airy and fluffy). Use as desired to frost cupcakes, cakes, etc. Makes enough to frost a single 9″ (20 cm) round or square layer.
The close friendship between my buddy Sterlin and me was soldered back in high school, when we first discovered that we were the only two girls in the entire school who had never had a boyfriend (well, I guess there was “BB,” too, but we figured that sleeping with the entire senior class had to count for something).
This revelation prompted an immediate sense of community between us, after which we spent endless hours (in the way that only teenagers can) on the telephone, musing about why we didn’t have a boyfriend, how much we wished we could have a boyfriend, what we would do if we ever got a boyfriend, and what it was other girls like BB had that we didn’t, allowing them to seemingly conjure streams of drooling boys trailing behind them like empty cans tied to a “Just Married” car bumper. Entirely unjustly, we thought, these girls enjoyed a surfeit of boyfriends, while we had to make do with an unrequited crush on our French teacher, Mr. Krauser.
But then, we discovered historical romance novels, and our focus shifted. You know the ones: innocent, nubile, yet spunky lass is swept away (usually literally) by swaggering, swarthy, self-assured rake with a (very well hidden) heart of gold. Over time, he wins her devotion, while she tames his savage nature. Well, we were spunky, weren’t we? Sterlin and I began to daydream, starry-eyed, about meeting a similar hero (even though we never fully understood exactly what a “rake” was) and riding off into the sunset, where he’d unravel the secrets of our nascent womanhood and we would charm his wild heart.
In the books, at least, we could get close to the most desirable of men. For some reason, these novels (at least, the ones I remember) all sported titles pairing two nouns, representing male and female: there was The Wolf and the Dove, and The Flame and The Flower (both Kathleen E. Woodiwiss masterworks) or perhaps The Raven and The Rose or The Pirate and thePagan (both by Virginia Henley). And let’s not forget my favorite, The French Teacher and the Girl with Braces and Long Hair Parted in the Middle Who Liked to Bake (okay, my memory may be a bit fuzzy on that one–high school was a long time ago!).
Well, given our combined paucity of feminine wilesflirting abilitylacy lingerie boyfriend-attracting attributes, we eventually decided to woo our guys with food (the way to a man’s heart, and all that). So Sterlin developed Date Pasta as her staple, while I attempted to perfect an ideal chocolate cheesecake, or brownie, or even muffin (since, you know, I had high hopes of my imaginary beau staying for breakfast).
Those erstwhile romantic efforts came back to me in a flash last week after I’d been browsing through some old cookbooks. Previously, I’d had a little email exchange with Lisa (Show Me Vegan) about buying or keeping cookbooks we no longer really use, or those that contain only a smattering of recipes still relevant to our newly acquired dietary habits.
One such tome in my collection is called The Breakfast Book, by Diana Terry (and though I’ve owned this book since the 1980s, I never realized until today that it was published in Australia–which, I may have mentioned, is the land of my dreams, with its picturesque vistas, lush wilderness, stunning cities, enviable weather, and dashing, rakish Aussie gentelmen–all of whom just happen to speak with that sexy Australian accent).
Ah, yes, well. Pardon me: back to the book. Terry offers a sample menu for a brunch with a decidedly orange theme. The lucky boyfriend guest is treated to Champagne with Grand Marnier, Scrambled Eggs with Wholemeal Brioches, Fresh Fruit with Ricotta-Orange Dip, and Viennese-Style Coffee. Of course, none of the recipes would suit me in its present form, but that certainly didn’t stop this spunky gal.
After reading about the citrus-suffused eggs that were then gingerly ladled over a split brioche, its top placed rakishly askew, I asked myself: “Who said tofu scrambles should be savory, anyway? Why not sweet? And why must they always be one shade shy of neon yellow? And couldn’t my own, homemade, biscuits stand in for a brioche? And just what does “rakishly” actually mean, anyway?”
So I created this scramble, which is slightly sweet and not too yellow. And it’s very creamy. And it has orange zest and juice in it. And you ladle it gingerly over the bottom of a carob and raisin biscuit, the top of which is placed rakishly askew over it.
And may I just say–I ended up loving this dish. In fact, our affair bordered on the torrid. Who needs a boyfriend? I’d rather eat this*. But if you’re feeling generous, go ahead and share it with your wolf, or your flame, or your rake.
[PS. Giveaway, as promised, will be announced in my next post--stay tuned!]
*Okay, not really. If I had to choose between a sweet tofu scramble and my sweet HH, of course the HH would win out. But just barely.
This dish makes a lovely first course for a brunch, and looks fairly impressive, too. If your biscuits are not the rakish kind, then just serve them in a basket with jams and spreads alongside the scramble. Add a crisp, green salad, for a full meal.
1 small onion, chopped fine
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil, preferably organic
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp. (90 ml.) natural smooth almond butter
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) tahini (sesame seed paste)
1/4 tsp. (1 ml.) turmeric
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) nutritional yeast
1/8 tsp. fine sea salt
zest of one large orange, preferably organic
juice of one large orange (about 1/3 cup or 80 ml.)
1 Tbsp. (15 ml.) pure maple syrup
1/4 cup (60 ml.) water
1/4 cup (60 ml.) fresh parsley, chopped fine
1 block (about 400 g.) firm or extra-firm tofu (the kind in its own plastic wrapper, not in a tub filled with water)
4-6 biscuits, warm (you can use my recipe, below, or another one)
In a large frypan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and sauté over medium-low heat, stirring often, until onions soften and begin to caramelize, 10-15 minutes.
While the onions cook, combine the almond butter, tahini, turmeric, nutritional yeast, sea salt, zest, juice, maple syrup and water in a small bowl. Whisk to create a creamy sauce.
Rinse the tofu and crumble it into scrambled-egg-like bits, or dice into small cubes. (If you have time, you can press it first to remove some of the moisture, but this isn’t necessary).
Once the onions are cooked, pour the sauce into the pan and top with the tofu. Stir to coat all the tofu bits with sauce. Add the parsley and stir it into the mixture. Reduce heat to low, cover and cook until heated through, 3-5 minutes.
Cut the biscuits in half and place the bottoms on single-serving plates. Spoon a generous serving of the tofu over the bottom and cover each with the tops, at–you guessed it–a rakish angle. Makes 4-6 servings.
Carob and Raisin Biscuits
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp. (90 ml.) plain or vanilla soy or almond milk
2 Tbsp. (30 ml.) extra virgin olive oil, plus more for brushing tops
1/2 tsp. (2.5 ml.) apple cider vinegar
1 tsp. (5 ml.) Sucanat or other unrefined evaporated cane juice
1/3 cup (35 g.) raisins
1/2 cup (70 g.) whole spelt flour
1/4 cup (35 g.) light spelt flour
1/4 cup (35 g.) carob powder
1 tsp. (5 ml.) cinnamon
2 tsp. (10 ml.) baking powder
1/4 tsp. (1 ml.) fine sea salt
Preheat oven to 425F (220C). Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a small bowl, whisk together the soymilk, oil, vinegar and Sucanat. Add the raisins and stir to coat them with the liquid mixture; set aside.
In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, carob powder, cinnamon, baking powder and salt. Pour the wet mixture over the dry and stir just until the mixture comes together in a soft dough.
Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup measuring cup, scoop the dough onto the cookie sheet 2 inches (5 cm.) apart. Wet your palms and flatten each biscuit slightly.
Bake in preheated oven for 10 minutes, then remove the pan and brush the tops of the biscuits with more olive oil. Rotate the pan and bake another 5-10 minutes, until the biscuits are well browned and dry. Allow to cool about 5 minutes before removing to a rack to cool completely. Makes 4-5 biscuits. May be frozen.
[There's just nothing like a homemade gift for the holidays. This year, with the purse strings a little tighter than usual, I'm determined to make at least a few in my kitchen--and thought I'd share my ideas in case you'd like to partake, too. ]
Back in the day (haven’t you always wondered about that expression? I mean, which day?), I used to bake entirely conventional, non-vegan, sweets and treats. As a graduate student with a job as a Teaching Assistant as well as a scholarship, I was lucky enough to have both a flexible schedule and sufficient finances to indulge my love of culinary invention. My favorites at the time were cheesecakes, light and fluffy (and, in particular, a chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake–yep, studded with globs of raw chocolate-chip cookie dough), whipped cream-topped layer cakes or pavlovas, and thick, dense, decadent brownies of all spots and stripes (top contender there was an intensely dark chocolate brownie with hidden pockets of Caramilk chocolate bar strewn throughout–cut the brownie and be treated to surprising little bursts of oozy, gooey caramel, enveloped in creamy milk chocolate. . . there must be a way to do this in a [semi?] NAG-friendly version!).
In any case, what I really loved was baking for the holidays. Between studying for finals, I’d take breaks by whipping up assorted cookies and bars, and filling dainty, decorative tins with dozens of them as Christmas gifts for my friends and colleagues. It was a fun challenge to find 12-15 recipes for cookies in differing flavors, textures, shapes or colors, so that the varying hues and contours complemented each other visually when placed together like pieces of a mosaic in the tins. Most years, I went so far as to draw a legend on a circle of paper (placed atop the cookies before closing the tin), like the kind you get in boxes of mixed chocolates, illustrating each different flavor and shape so people would know in advance what they chose (can you say, “anal”?).
Even though my schedule isn’t nearly as flexible any more (not to mention my hip joints), I decided that this year, I really wanted to resurrect that tradition for the holidays. And while cookies are still on the list, I’m going to focus more on slightly less perishable items, so that I (and you) can send these goodies to loved ones far away, or as parting gifts with visitors who pop in over the next few weeks.
One thing I’ve never made as a gift, though, is fudge. When the HH and I were first together, we once took a weekend junket to Niagara-on-the-Lake (not far from the Canadian side of Niagra Falls) to trundle around and see a play at the Shaw Festival. Well, I said I was going for the play, anyway. What I really looked forward to was a visit to a little candy shop that’s become semi-famous for its fudge. Have you ever tried fresh, satiny homemade fudge, like, 30 seconds after it’s set?
Oh.
MY.
They say chocolate is better than sex, but really, chocolate fudge is even better than chocolate.
Still, I’m aware that no self-respecting holistic nutritionist or health-conscious foodie would foist fudge on friends (and no self-respecting writer would pen such an obviously hokey alliteration!) Craving all that is chocolate, smooth, and fondant-like, I sought out a healthier version–but one that would still embody the same indulgent, creamy, and, most importantly, chocolate–qualities of “real” fudge.
Well, I’ve found it! Today’s recipes are both based on a Carob Fudge I saw ages ago on Deb’s blog. I’ve been waiting to try it since then, and this seemed the perfect occasion. Of course, since I can’t even imagine a non-chocolate variety, I played with the recipes somewhat and created not one, but two cacao-flavored versions. The first is orange-scented, studded with tangy bits of chopped dried apricot, while the other is draped over clusters of mixed nuts and dropped into little truffle cups to serve as individual candies. I have no doubt that whomever you choose to bestow these upon, they will devour them most gratefully. Perhaps best of all, this is incredibly quick to make!
“Mum, we love the idea of food-based gifts for the holidays! But why did you take out the carob–now we can’t have any. . . ”
I’d also love to hear what you’re whipping up this year as gifts. Do you have any old favorites, or perhaps some newfound treasures? Leave a comment (or a link to a recipe) so we can all increase our gift-giving repertoire!
Smooth, rich and as dense as cream-based fudge, these squares are a perfect post-prandial sweet to help settle a meal (or, in my case, the final course of the meal itself).
1-1/2 cups (255 g.) dark chocolate chips (the barley-sweetened type work well here, too)
1/2 cup (120 ml.) all-natural cashew-macadamia nut butter (I just mixed half of each type together in a bowl)
1/3-1/2 cup (80-120 ml.) agave nectar, depending on desired level of sweetness (I used 1/2 cup)
1 tsp. (5 ml.) pure vanilla extract
grated zest of one orange
1/2 cup ( g.) finely chopped dried apricots
Lightly grease a 9 x9 inch (20 cm.) square pan, or line with parchment paper.
In a glass or metal bowl set over a pot of simmering water, melt the chocolate chips. Mix in the nut butter until smooth; remove from heat. Add the agave, vanilla and orange zest, and stir until combined. The mixture should thicken up a bit as you stir.
Spread in prepared pan and smooth the top. Chill until set (2-3 hours), then cut into squares. Wrap in plastic before packaging as gifts. Makes 12-25 squares, depending on how small you cut them. Bonus: this may be frozen! Defrost in fridge overnight.
Fudge Nut Clusters (variation)
These little confections are perfect to serve at tea or on a dessert tray for a buffet celebration.
Line about 15-20 mini-muffin tins with foil liners.
Prepare chocolate fudge as above, omitting the apricots and orange zest. Place a small spoonful of mixed nuts (I used chopped almonds, hazelnuts, pecans and walnuts) in the bottom of each cup; drop spoonfuls of still-warm fudge mixture over each, and allow the fudge to sink down to the bottom of the cup to create a mound of nutty fudge candy. Top with extra fudge mixture if necessary to fill the cups and cover the nuts.
Gastronomic Gifts III: Marzipan-Topped Shortbread **Note: the original recipe was somehow transcribed incorrectly–please use the current version with the correct amount of flour!!
After a rollicking time last evening (it was my Human Honey’s birthday, so we splurged ridiculously at one of our very favorite restaurants), I woke up, late, this morning and decided that it was time to return to the pleasures of baking. After all, I haven’t baked anything in seven whole days! Can it be only seven days since we left the old place??
The first challenge to address was “what to bake?” Then it hit me that I’m scheduled to teach a cooking class on Tuesday, and desperately needed to re-test one of the recipes I’d dashed off so cavalierly before the move. With the class looming, I figured it best to try out the recipe before sending it in print to the cooking class coordinator. Besides, I had all the ingredients on hand, I was sure I could locate all the necessary equipment, and–most important of all–I was really hungry for something real, something freshly baked, something–well, something not chocolate.
The perfect recipe? My old standard, Orange-Oatmeal Muffins.
This recipe is one of the very first I ever created with alternative-to-wheat flours, and it remains one of our favorites here in the house. (“Yes, we love it, too, Mum!”) I’ve given it out to scores of friends, acquaintances, and cooking class participants, and everyone has been amazed at how simple the recipe is to prepare, how moist and dense the texture, and how generally yummy the result.
When I was first told not to eat wheat, I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I’ve since learned that spelt (especially light spelt) flour is more or less a one-for-one replacement for wheat, and we have come to prefer its subtle, slightly nutty, slightly sweeter taste. (Once, when I was baking “regular” vegan muffins–ie, choc full o’ sugar, white flour, and margarine–for a vegetarian restaurant, my H.H. and I felt the need to taste-test them to ensure they’d come out right before I dropped them off at the restaurant. But by then, we’d been eating spelt- and kamut-based baked goods for three or four years already. We took one bite of the pallid, unremarkable little quick bread and immediatley spat it out. “It has no flavor!” we cried, and “this tastes like styrofoam!” we exclaimed. (Though how we’d recognize the taste of styrofoam, I have no idea.) We’d become so accustomed to eating food that has real depth, real substance, real nutritional value, that the old, conventional baked goods tasted sickly and bland to us.) Nowadays, I think of spelt as a fraternal twin, rather than a distant cousin, of wheat.
When experimenting with muffin recipes back then, I wanted to create something with only natural sweeteners, preferably fruit-based, both for the vitamin, mineral, and antioxidant properties, as well as for the fiber and stabilizing effect on blood sugar levels compared to refined sweeteners. I opted for a bit of maple syrup (for its intense sweetness) paired with blackstrap molasses (for the incredible nutritional punch, the calcium, iron, and other trace minerals). Back then, flush with my newfound natural-nutritionist zeal, I was determined to include as many whole grains as possible in each recipe, so threw in three.
While considering which fruits to include, I was struck by a childhood memory of a strange habit my mother had had. On afternoons when she wasn’t working, after setting up whatever dishes she’d be preparing for dinner, she’d retire to her bedroom (where the only TV in our house was located), tote along a fresh orange, and sit watching her soap opera while she munched on it. What made her practice unusual (besides sitting on the edge of a bed to watch TV at 2:00 PM) was the way she consumed the fruit: she’d wash the orange, then bite into it the way one usually tackles a fresh apple–chomping straight through it, skin and all. The juice would squirt, the flesh would fly a little, and she’d chew with a slightly squishy, slightly crunchy sound as she slurped, munched, and spat out the seeds onto a paper towel (we never seemed to have paper napkins in our house).
I thought about my mother’s odd approach to oranges as I set about creating this recipe. Why couldn’t I include the whole orange here, too, skin and all? After all, much of the best nutritional value in the orange actually resides in the skin and pith, the slightly bitter white lining just under the orange peel. Antioxidants, bioflavonoids, cholesterol-lowering properties–I could include all of these. I decided to give it a try, guessing that the combination of sweeteners and slight bitterness from the full orange would complement each other beautifully. I was right!
Similarly, the combination of spelt and kamut allows a mix of hard and soft flours for a solid, but not too heavy, texture, and the oats provide a bit of chewiness and dimension.
These are definitely not conventional muffins. They’re low in fat, full in flavor, dense, and very moist. You’ll find little flecks of orange peel and date scattered throughout. I love these muffins for breakfast, warm with a little almond butter. You’ll need a food processor for this recipe.
Wheat-Free Orange Oatmeal Muffins
1 whole medium organic orange, washed, dried, and cut in eighths (remove any pits)
1/2 cup chopped dried pitted dates (they should be soft)
1 Tbsp. finely ground flax seeds
1/4 cup organic extra virgin olive oil or organic sunflower oil
1/4 cup pure maple syrup
2 Tbsp. blackstrap molasses
1/2 cup plain organic soy milk or almond milk
1/2 cup whole spelt flour
1/2 cup whole kamut flour
2-1/2 tsp. non-aluminum baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. sea salt
1 cup old-fashioned whole oats (not instant)
Preheat oven to 375F. Line a muffin tin with 12 paper liners for small muffins or 9 liners for large muffins, or spray with nonstick coating.
In the bowl of a food processor, process the orange segments until almost smooth. Add the dates and process almost to a smooth puree (you can leave a few small flecks of date and/or orange). Add the flax, oil, maple syrup, molasses, and soy milk and process again just to blend. Set aside while you prepare the dry ingredients, or at least 2 minutes.
In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and sea salt. Add the oats and stir to mix.
Pour the wet mixture over the dry mixture in the bowl and stir just to mix. (It will seem too wet for a regular muffin batter; this is as it should be.)
Using a scoop or large spoon, fill the muffin tins 2/3 full for smaller muffins or 3/4 full for larger muffins. Bake in prepared oven for 20-25 minutes, turning once about halfway through. Cool about 10 minutes before removing to a rack. These taste even better the next day, as flavors meld. These muffins freeze beautifully.
Please do let me know how you like these if you try them.
[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.]
