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Look! It’s Ricki at the Vegetarian Food Fair again!
Nope, I didn’t take a spin in the Time Tunnel. Nope, I don’t have a twin sister who demonstrated a recipe at another Veg Food Fair this weekend. Nope, I haven’t figured out how to implement Einstein’s theory of relativity and traveled back in time. And nope, you did not unwittingly ingest some strange form of hallucinogen, which is now showing its effects in this blog post.
This post is simply a means to re-post last week’s Butterscotch Blondies with Chocolate Chips and Dried Cranberries recipe, which was lost when a *&%$!!! hacker broke into my blog site and hijacked the page for a few days. I contacted my service provider and they cleared it up–minus a couple of entries (and minus all your wonderful comments about the Food Fair–sniff, boo hoo!).
I’ll post another recipe tomorrow, but in the meantime, here are those blondies again. And nope, I didn’t eat them this week, either. 
Butterscotch Blondies with
Chocolate Chips and Dried Cranberries
from Sweet Freedom
These are a favorite dessert in our house. They are rich-tasting, chewy, and the combination of rice syrup and maple syrup mimics a butterscotch flavor extremely well. Use the suggested cranberries and chocolate chips, or any of the variations, below.
1 cup (140 g) light spelt flour
3/4 cup (90 g) barley flour
1 tsp (5 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) baking soda
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
1/3 cup (80 ml) brown rice syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml) pure maple syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1 Tbsp (15 ml) pure vanilla extract
1/4 tsp (1 ml) rum or butterscotch flavoring (optional)
1/2 cup (100 g) non-dairy chocolate chips
1/3 cup dried tart cherries (45 g) or cranberries (40 g)
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line an 8” (20 cm) square pan with parchment paper, or grease well and then flour the pan (flouring is essential, as the blondies tend to stick to the bottom of the pan without the parchment).
In a medium bowl, sift together the spelt flour, barley flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.
In a large bowl, whisk together the brown rice syrup, maple syrup, oil, vanilla and flavoring (if using) until well blended. Gently stir in the chips and cherries.
Pour the dry mixture over the wet and stir to blend. You will have a fairly thick and sticky batter. Turn the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula.
Bake in preheated oven for 20-25 minutes, rotating pan about halfway through, until a tester inserted in the center comes out just barely clean (a moist crumb or two is fine). Take care not to overbake, or these will dry out! The batter will fall a little as it cools; this is as it should be. Allow to cool completely in pan before cutting into squares. Makes 16 squares. May be frozen.
Variations: use 1/3 cup each pistachios (or nut of choice) and dried cranberries, or replace the cranberries with raisins and add about 2 tsp (10 ml) freshly grated orange zest.
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
Last Year at this Time: Banana-Berry Breakfast Cakes
[Thanks to everyone who purchased a copy of my new cookbook! And if you’ve been waiting for the book to be listed on amazon.com, it’s now there! Just click on the book image at left to see the three ways to buy.}
Anyone who’s ever successfully trained dogs knows that the key to success–more than anything else–is consistency. Dogs like things to be the same each time they occur. They like predictability. So when you say, “sit,” you must always ensure that they sit. When you say, “come!” you must ensure that they run toward you each and every time. When you set 5:00 PM as their feeding time, you’d damn well better feed them at 5:00 PM. And so on.
Why is this so? Because dogs are creatures of habit. Left to their own devices, they will repeat the same actions over and over (I mean, really, shouldn’t they already know what that hydrant smells like after the first 438 sniffs?). I recognize this canine quality every day at precisely 4:43 PM, when Elsie pads soundlessly across the office to barely graze my knee with her wet, leathery nose and remind me that dinner should be on its way in, oh, about 17 minutes. Or in the way Chaser tucks her head under the overhang of our bed’s comforter every evening before turning in for the night. Or in the way both Girls park themselves by the front door, pining, each weekday evening as they wait for the HH to arrive home from work.
Even though he’s fond of telling me I have “dog-like qualities,” it’s really the HH who is more the creature of habit in our relationship. I liken myself more to Jerry’s character in Seinfeld, the one who had a library of cold breakfast cereals lining his kitchen shelf because he peferred a varied selection. The HH, on the other hand, eats exactly the same thing for breakfast each day, following a very precise, very consistent morning ritual:
7:00 AM: Slam clock radio alarm with palm. Lower palm to side of bed and pat Chaser’s head. Heave self out of bed. Don “dog-walking pants” and sneakers. Take The Girls for their AM romp and morning ablutions.
7:40 AM: Shower and shave. Forget to wipe the counter, leaving soapy pools of water clinging to all of Ricki’s cosmetic bottles. Reach into closet and grab the next clean shirt and next clean pair of pants (no matter if they don’t happen to match) and dress for work. Slip into shoes, left one first, then right one and tie up laces.
8:15 AM: grab a paper bag from under the sink and a banana from the bowl on the counter. Head to the fridge to fill the sack with other foods to enjoy later with that first deskbound coffee. Pull out one green apple from the crisper drawer; then move to the door to select a home baked muffin from the unending stash on the shelf–
WHOAH! WAIT A SECOND HERE!
Suddenly, these days, there is no more stash of home-made, freshly baked breakfast goods. Crisis!
You see, for the past 12 years or so, the HH has cohabited with a baker. This means that he never had to think about his breakfast baked good; he was greeted each morning with a seemingly endless array of homemade, healthy treats from which to choose, courtesy of yours truly. In the past year alone, as I was testing and re-testing recipes for the cookbook, those baked goods seemed to multiply of their own accord like happy little Tribbles, and the HH was often faced with an embarrassment of riches. It could be a tough choice for the guy, between a Sweet Harvest Muffin, Lemon Blueberry Scone, Maple-Millet Muffin, PB & G Muffin, or even some Cinnamon Walnut Coffee Cake.
But recently, I haven’t been baking much. No, scratch that; I haven’t been baking at all. Adhering to the draconian restrictions desperate measures stringent dictates of the ACD has made me shun anything sugary. Forfeit anything floury. Eschew chocolate. And–for a while, anyway–ban baking.
Pity the poor HH.
Not only has he lost his endless stock of breakfast muffins, he’s also been forced to eat the red apples from our weekly organic box (since I’m off fruit) instead of his usual green ones. I mean, really, how much can the poor guy take?
Feeling sorry for the guy, I decided to bake up some new muffins for his morning meal. Well, turns out I’m more a creature of habit than I realized–where baking is concerned, at least. Bake I must! I decided to accept the fact: Baking is my calling. Baking is in my blood! Baking is my destiny! I. Love. Baking. Oh, and I also had a bunch of old ingredients in the cupboard I had to use up.
I spied a box of Cinnamon Puffins languishing at the back of the shelf , like the lone wallflower hoping against hope for a dance at the prom. I’d bought them before starting the ACD, mostly because I’d read about them so many times on VeggieGirl’s blog and was dying to try them. And while I would have been happy to finish the box myself, I’m not allowed cereal on this diet; and the HH wasn’t fussy about them. What to do?
Bake ‘em into muffins, that’s what! I thought I’d replace some of the usual flour with ground-up cereal for an extra hit of both grains and flavor. Playing with proportions and one of my favorite flavor combinations, I came up with this version of Mocha Cinnamon Cereal Muffins. And this way, you don’t have to choose between cereal and a muffin–you get both in one!
The result was an incredibly moist, fragrant muffin. The cereal added textural interest and a density that suits these miniature quick breads perfectly. Unlike most of my breakfast baking, these gems contain neither fruit nor vegetable, attaining their moistness from the mixture of cereal and ground chia. With just a hint of coffee and whisper of cinnamon, they would be perfect topped with some almond butter or even buttery spread.
It felt great to get back to baking, even if I can’t enjoy the fruits of my labor (well, in this case, the cinnamon-coffee of my labor) just yet. As for the HH, he seems much more comfortable now that his morning ritual has returned to normal.
“Mum, it’s great that you’ve got back to your old baking habit! But how about that letting-us-lick-the-spoon habit? Can you please get back to that one, too–??”
Mocha Cinnamon Cereal Muffins
I bet these would work well with any cinnamon-flavored breakfast cereal, or any cereal of your choice (just be aware that the cereal will confer some of its own flavor to the final product).
2 cups (480 ml) cinnamon flavored cold cereal, dry (I used Cinnamon Puffins)
1 tsp (5 ml) finely ground chia seeds or 1 Tbsp (15 ml) finely ground flax seeds
2 Tbsp (30 ml) instant coffee substitute, or 1 Tbsp (15 ml) instant coffee
1/4 cup (60 ml) light agave nectar
1-1/4 cups (300 ml) plain or vanilla soy or almond milk
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
1/3 cup (80 ml) sunflower or other light-tasting oil, preferably organic
1/2 tsp (2. 5 ml) apple cider vinegar
3/4 cup (105 g) light spelt flour
1/2 cup (60 g) barley flour (may substitute more spelt)
1 Tbsp (30 ml) baking powder
1/2 tsp (2. 5 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) cinnamon
1/4 tsp (1 ml) fine sea salt
2/3 cup (65 g) coarsely chopped pecans or walnuts
Preheat oven to 350F (180 C). Line 10 muffin cups with paper liners for small muffins, or 8 cups for larger muffins; or spray with nonstick spray.
In the bowl of a food processor,whir the cereal until it has crumbled to a fine meal. There should be no large pieces of cereal visible. You should have about 1 cup (240 ml) of cereal-meal.
To the processor bowl, add the chia seeds, coffee substitute, agave, milk, vanilla, oil and apple cider vinegar. Whir to combine. (Note: if you use flax instead of chia, the muffins may be a teeny bit dryer–but still delicious!).
Add the spelt flour, barley flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and sea salt, and process again until blended, stopping to scrape the sides of the bowl if necessary. You should have a fairly thick batter. Sprinkle with the pecans and stir them in by hand, but do not process again.
Using a large ice cream scoop or 1/3 cup (80 ml) measuring cup, fill the muffin cups, dividing the batter evenly.
Bake for 35-40 minutes, rotating the pan once about halfway through, until a tester inserted in a center muffin comes out clean. Allow to cool about 5 minutes before removing to a rack to cool completely. Makes 8-10 muffins. May be frozen.
Last Year at this Time: Sweet Potato and Kasha Burgers
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
[After yesterday's somber ACD-focused post, today it's time for. . . cookies!]
I remember reading an article several years ago in a popular magazine that theorized about which males epitomize the term, “sexy.” Since they sought out trends rather than individuals, the likes of Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Johnny Depp et al were all immediately disqualified. In the end, whom did they decide was the sexiest type of man? The Cowboy.
Yep, little lady, you heard me right: those rugged, ruddy men sporting wide-brimmed hats, faded bandannas, checkered shirts, washed-out jeans and pointy-toed boots. And let’s not forget unkempt, greasy hair, calloused hands with dirty fingernails, mud-crusted clothing, and tobacco-stained teeth. Oh, they’re sexy all right; I mean, if being able to lasso a sweet, saucer-eyed, helpless calf and tie up its hind legs with your bare hands isn’t sexy, well, what is? (Clearly, I was not alone in my skepticism; I have no doubt the author of Brokeback Mountain intended to challenge the stereotype as well, or he wouldn’t have set the first major Hollywood gay love story–now that’s a string of adjectives, isn’t it?–in cowboy country).
Well, I have nothing against cowboys, really, but must admit I’ve never found them very appealing on a romantic level. (Now, a firefighter, well, that’s an entirely different story. . .right on, Denis Leary!).
We could also consider the full roundup of cowboy-related foods. Remember that great scene in Mel Brooks’s Blazing Saddles? Baked beans heated on a skillet over an open flame. . . yum! Or how about a hash browned breakfast topped with eggs, under the open skies? (Oooh, that reminds me of my own Cowboy’s Tempeh Hash recipe–must post!). And eclipsing them all by a Texas mile–are Cowboy Cookies.
Let me take a step back here, and leave the cowboys–er, in the dust, so to speak–for a moment.
I’m fairly certain that most of you, by now, have heard of Toronto’s own jae steele, holistic nutritionist and cookbook writer extraordinaire. Jae’s book, Get It Ripe, was an instant bestseller both because it contains a plethora of yummy recipes and because it offers an encyclopedic introductory section (almost half the book) dishing up healthy nutrition, whole foods ingredients, cooking methods, and so on. I’m guessing many people who love the recipes also purchased the book as a handy reference guide to healthy eating.
I first met jae several years ago when I taught a practicum at my nutrition school alma mater. Because we both attended the same school, we share a similar philosophy toward food, and I feel very comfortable with all of jae’s recipes. Like me, jae worked as a vegan baker in a restaurant before embarking on her cookbook. So I thought it might be fun to bake up one of her dessert recipes.
That’s when my eyes alighted on her Cowgrrrl Cookies, a crisp-and-chewy blend of oats, chocolate chips, nuts, raisins, and a hint of cinnamon–sort of what you’d get if you bred a classic Dad’s oatmeal cookie and a Chocolate Chip cookie mama. I knew I wanted to try them. The result was, as expected, spectacular–a dense yet chewy cookie studded with a variety of textures and flavors, from soft and melty (chocolate chips) to sweet and pliable (raisins) to slightly smoky and nutty (walnuts). The dough itself baked up, bronzed to perfection (sort of like a shirtless cowboy, no?), light and crisp on the edges while maintaining a certain moist, taffy-like chewiness in the center. Yee-haw!
When I subsequently researched the original Cowboy Cookies (from which jae took her vegan inspiration), I discovered that no one has actually determined the origin of their name. One article declared they were so good, “They’d cause a stampede!” while another suggested that the confections “are so dense and full of ingredients that they could feed a cowboy for a week.” Either way, the original is brimming with butter and eggs–not exactly suitable to the DDD brood–so I was happy to go with jae’s delectable vegan, spelt-based version.
Yessiree, I brand these the best rustlin’, best tastin’, best health-supportin’ Cowgrrrrl Cookies anywhere–hot dang!
Luckily, I’ve already made these babies a few times, so I didn’t feel obliged to “test” the batch (thereby negating my entire six weeks of the ACD). These are crisp on the edges, chewy in the middle, with lots of texture from the chips, raisins, and nuts. The HH, an avowed nut lover (well, in reality he’s more of a “nutty lover”), absolutely adored these.
Forget cowboys (and their cookies), I say! I’d more likely be attracted by these any day.
With their wealth of natural ingredients and down-home charm, I thought these cookies would be a perfect contribution to Food Renegade ‘s Fight Back Fridays. Giddyup!
Cowgrrrl Cookies
from Get It Ripe by jae steele (with the author’s permission)
A great snacking cookie filled with delightful extras. The recipe bakes up a big batch so you can share with all your ranch hands, too!
2 cups (280 g) light spelt flour
2 cups (200 g) old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant)
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) baking powder
1 tsp (5 ml) baking soda
1/2 tsp (1 ml) sea salt
1-1/4 cups (225 g) non-dairy chocolate chips
1/2 cup (70 g) organic raisins
1/2 cup (55 g) coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) cinnamon
3/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp (210 ml) softened organic coconut oil or sunflower oil, preferably organic
1 cup (180 g) Sucanat
1/3 cup (80 ml) room-temperature applesauce
1 tsp (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 350F (180C). Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper, or spray with nonstick spray.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, baking powder, soda and salt in a large bowl. Add the chocolate chips, raisins, nuts, and cinnamon. Stir to combine. Set aside.
In a large bowl, mix the oil and Sucanat until well combined. Add the applesauce and vanilla and mix again.
Add the dry ingredients to the wet, and mix just until all the flour is absorbed. Use a small ice cream scoop or heaping tablespoon (20 ml) to place mounds of dough on the cookie sheets about 2 inches (5 cm) apart. Flatten slightly.
Bake for 13 minutes, or until golden. Makes about 3 dozen.
Last Year at this Time: Frugal Frittata
© 2009 Diet, Dessert and Dogs
* The HH loved this so much, he thought it needed a more jazzy name. So he came up with ”Pesto Fiesta Pizza.” Olé!
One of the things I decided to do this summer was grow a garden, for the very first time. Maybe it was the influence of the previous tenants, who had one of the most beautiful back yard gardens I’ve ever seen (shame they uprooted everything and took it with them to their new abode when they left!). Maybe it was the billowing mint going forth and multiplying (seemingly by the hour) at the side of our house; maybe it was the current food prices, rising rapidly and steadily like water round a sinking ship. Whatever the reason, I felt inspired to grow my own produce this year.
During one of my weekly shopping trips to the local organic market last May, I bought–ta da!–TWO seedlings: one tomato, and one jalapeno pepper. I felt a little frisson of pride as I hugged the green plastic pots and carried then back to the car. I couldn’t help but smile as I dug little holes in the clay that is our back yard, popped in the root balls I’d loosened from the pots, and propped up the little sprouts of life with even more dirt. And then, I waited.
Miraculously, nature (most notably the superabunance of rain we had this season) took over. It was like one of those segments on National Geographic TV filmed with time-lapse photography: in what seemed like hours, the plants slithered and twisted and grew like crazy, overtaking the small boxed-in area in which they’d been planted. The formerly wee tomato plant with its half dozen yellow blossoms expanded in all directions and ended up yielding something like 41 fruits. The jalapeno plant, too, proliferated, creeping both sideways and skyward and sweeping the earth below it, little white flowers dotting the branches before they sprouted miniature green peppers. The peppers themselves, however, continued to stretch lengthwise and formed long, apple-green veggies that resembled nothing like the jalapenos I’ve ever seen. And THEN, they turned a brilliant, stop-sign red. Are these actually jalapenos? Perhaps the orignal seedling was mislabeled. Anyone out there have any idea what I actually grew? Here’s a photo:
Anyway, the first time I tried to cook with these mysterious darlings, I plucked a couple of green ones and chopped ‘em up the way I would regular jalapenos. WHOOOO–Big mistake. WHOAH, AGGHHH, WHOOSH, PANT, PANT, DROOL, TINGLE. . . SWEAT BREAKING OUT ON MY BROW—Whoah, Mama, those babies were HOT. And, as someone who loves spicy foods (I generally can eat raw slices of jalapeno without a problem), let me tell you, these are no ordinary peppers. Yowsah!!
And so, I am now cooking with these fiery rascals, using them much as I would jalapenos (though adjusting for the extreme heat). I actively sought out any and all recipes that call for hot peppers, as the count is up to about four dozen of the little monsters, and more are clearly on the way. I’ve been cooking everything I can think of, from curries to chocolate cookies to candied varieties (thanks, Diann!), and now–pesto.
This pizza was enormously successful and beyond delicious. It left a pleasant, buzzing tingle on the tongue without chafing. It’s also bursting with protein (beware: not a low-fat meal!) and is probably satisfying for that very reason; the HH remarked, “This doesn’t even NEED cheese.” In tossing the pesto together, I took my cue from Nava Atlas’s Very Green Veggie Pesto mixture, then ad-libbed elements of 2 other jalapeno pesto recipes I found on the web, to create this final version. In the end, it seems, the sum is much greater than its peppers.
It may appear as if there’s too much pesto for a single (12 inch) pizza; this is as it should be. I used the entire mixture on one pizza, creating a soft, cushy mattress of green on which I lay the additional accoutrements (in the way of sundried tomato, fresh tomato–from my garden!!, broccoli, red onion, and chopped garlic). If you prefer a thinner base and heavier toppings, then use about 2/3 of the pesto and save the rest to toss over pasta or even steamed cauliflower, as I did. The HH and I decided, in fact, that this pizza would still be superb with nothing other than the pesto and a few stray shards of sliced sundried tomato. I used my standby thin-crust spelt recipe, but use whatever crust you fancy.
“Mum, you know we can’t eat jalapenos, but how about some of those crust edges? After all, we need more food if we’re going to proliferate, too.”
And since this pizza contained not one, but two vegetables from my very own garden, I’m submitting it to Maninas’s blog event, Eating with the Seasons.
Pesto Fiesta Pizza (Jalapeno Pesto Pizza)
A perfect combination of smooth, spice, and protein-rich seeds and beans. A great way to incorporate some extra minerals and protein in your pizza topping!
1 recipe thin pizza crust (or use your favorite)
2 jalapeno peppers (or other hot peppers), roughly chopped, with seeds (or remove seeds for less heat)
1/2 cup cooked edamame
1/2 cup pumpkin seeds
1/4 cup pine nuts or walnuts
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1/2 cup cilantro
2 leaves kale (stems removed), roughly chopped
1 Tbsp. light miso
1 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
sea salt to taste
up to 2 Tbsp. water, if necessary
Toppings of choice (we used red onion, sundried tomato, broccoli, chopped garlic, and fresh tomato slices)
Preheat oven to 400F ( C). Prepare pizza dough and either press or roll out to fit into pan. Dock the crust by pricking with the tines of a fork over the bottom.
Bake for 15 minutes, until it begins to puff up a bit and the top is dry.
Meanwhile, prepare the pesto: In the bowl of a food processor, whir together the jalapenos, edamame, pumpkin seeds, pinenuts, and garlic until almost smooth. Add the remaining ingredients except for toppings and process until you have a relatively smooth paste (though there should still be some grainy texture to it). Taste and adjust the seasoning. The pesto should be fairly thick.
Spread the pesto over the partially baked pizza crust in the pan, and cover with your choice of toppings. Return pizza to the oven and bake an additional 25-35 minutes, until the edges are golden and the garlic and onions in the topping are beginning to brown. Cut into 8 slices and eat immediately. Serves 4.
 Those of you who live in the GTA will be familiar with Il Fornello: the hip, alt-chic series of restaurants that seem to be able to satisfy all palates. Besides fabulous pizza baked in wood-burning ovens, this contemporary Italian resto also provides a wide variety of dishes for those of us sensitive to wheat, gluten, or dairy. In other words, it’s the perfect weekday dinner out for me and my HH: he gets to have the Chicken Asiago (chicken breast stuffed with spinach/asiago mix), while I get to have my alternative pizza. We eat, we enjoy, we laugh about how my dinner costs $6.85 and his is $42.50 (okay, well, I laugh).
For years, my favorite pizza at Il Fornello was the “make your own”: start with a crust of your choice (in my case, spelt, of course), then add your pick of toppings from their list. Despite my best intentions to break free of old habits, I inevitably choose the same old, same old, consisting of roasted garlic, hot peppers, kalamata olives, tomatoes, and either spinach or roasted eggplant. If I’m really hungry, I’ll add some sliced onion or capers to the mix.
Finally, after staring at the list of crust ingredients just about every time I ate there for a few years, at least, I thought, “why don’t I just try to do this at home?” It seemed eminently achievable, given that (a) it was spelt, my flour of choice; (b) there was no dreaded yeast in the crust; (c) it was thin-crust, my preference; and (d) sometimes, you just want to have pizza at home.
So I took the basic list of ingredients from the restaurant menu, omitted a couple (such as the millet, which just didn’t seem necessary), changed another (subbed agave for honey), then played with the proportions. What I came up with was the following crust, ridiculously easy, totally yummy, and great for a pizza night when you’re snowed in at home. Because I’m basically a lazy cook (I may have mentioned that before), there’s no rolling or throwing into the air required. Oh, and it’s also great for breakfast the next day.
Spelt Pizza with Caramelized Onion, Artichokes and Chard
This pizza is quick and easy, and can be infinitely adapted to include any of your favorite ingredients. If using a tomato-based pizza sauce, spread it over the crust just before adding the other ingredients, after pre-baking the crust.
Crust:
1-1/4 cups whole spelt flour
1/4 cup ground flax seeds
1/2 cup (or a bit more) water
2 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp. agave nectar
Pinch salt
Topping:
2 large onions, sliced fine
3 Tbsp. extra virgin olive oil, divided
1 cup chopped chard (leaves only)
1 whole bulb garlic, roasted (see below)
1 can artichoke hearts, drained (not the marinated kind)
1/4 cup kalamata olives, pitted and sliced
2 T. nutritional yeast or grated parmesan cheese
Prepare the garlic ahead of time:
Preheat oven to 375F. Cut the top off the whole head of garlic horizontally so that every clove is exposed at the top. Place on a square of aluminum foil or in a garlic baker and sprinkle with one tablespoon of the oil. Seal tightly and bake at 375F for 45 minutes to an hour, until the garlic is golden and very soft. Cool about 5 minutes, then pinch the cloves from the bottom up so that the soft garlic meat is squeezed out. Set aside the soft garlic in a small bowl.
For the topping, heat the 2 Tbsp. olive oil over medium-low heat in a frypan and add the onions. Sauté at until onions are very soft and golden brown, stirring occasionally, about 10-15 minutes. Add the chard and allow just to wilt. Turn off heat and cover.
While the topping cooks, prepare the crust: lightly spray a pizza pan with nonstick coating, or line with parchment paper.
Mix flour, flax, and salt in a large bowl and set aside. In a measuring cup, measure the 1/2 cup water. Then add the 2 Tbsp. oil, agave and salt, and mix well.
Pour the wet mixture over the dry and toss with a fork. Once it starts to come together, knead with your hands about 2 minutes. It should be a soft dough, a little bit sticky, but one that holds together.
Using firm pressure, press the dough with your floured knuckles or fingers evenly over the pizza pan. Let the dough extend a little onto the rim of the pan. Prick the surface with a fork and then bake for 10 minutes in the preheated oven, until the top is dry.
Assemble the pizza:
Increase oven temperature to 400F. Spread the roasted garlic evenly over the surface of the pre-baked pizza, then top with the caramelized onion mixture. Slice the artichoke hearts into quarters and toss evenly over the pizza along with the olives. (If using parmesan cheese, sprinkle it evenly over the top of the mixture).
Bake the pizza for about 20 minutes, until heated through and the edges of the crust are deep golden. Remove from the oven and sprinkle with the nutritional yeast. Slice and serve, perhaps while reading Holidailies. Makes 6-8 slices.
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.]
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