mixing thunderstorms with bran

Last night we had our first thunderstorm of the year. And today is rain. Lilac air swells inside our apartment, trailing from overfilled vases of purple and white. An afternoon such as this commends baking, so my hands got busy.

The result of rain and Andrew Bird and bran is thunderstorm bran muffins.

oil

eggs

lemon juice

unsweetened soy milk

brown sugar

salt

flour

thick oats

bran

cinnamon

raisins 

The sea and i

Blue skies. Tangled hair. Picnic for two. We threw the towels in the car, grabbed the sunscreen, and scrambled out to the sea for a day of snacking, sunbathing and shell-hunting. While I scoured for sea treasures, Joe fingered his way through two or three homemade bagels slathered with the vegetable cream cheese that I whipped up in the dark hours of the morning. We spent the afternoon knocking back a bottle of cranberry lemonade and snacking on salted peanuts and almonds, finishing things off with slivers of cantaloupe and the sugary orange Pâtes de fruits that I made on a quiet evening last week. When the sea receded to the high noon sun, we wandered out onto the sand banks, watching the hermit crabs wander the tide pools, and tickling the toes of the sea anemones, whose hiding places lay exposed in the shallow waters. We took leave, at last, when the folds of my bathing suit could hold no more shells and sand had coated our reserve of treats. Farewell for now dear sea!

she shells.
logan

Dandelion Bread

Well, yall know me. I like to use plants the earth abundantly gives me out in my front yard to make delicious food. Well, by golly, I've done it. This bread is possibly the best bread I have ever eaten. Here is what you do:

Pick lots of dandelion flowers. Separate the yellow petals from the green part of the plant. This takes a while but get some friends or a loved one to help and it is fun and goes by in no time. Then grind up the petals in a coffee grinder like thing. About 1 cup of ground petals is sufficient. Then mix in the petals with your flour, oil, salt, honey, and baking powder or yeast (depending on the type of bread your making). I like to add some cayenne too. This make the bread start out kinda of sweet and end with a kick.

You can actually add the petals to any bread recipe you want. It gives the bread a nice sweetness that is oh so pleasant on the tongue.

Love yall so big,

Jeremy

Project Muffin

I spent all of last summer living on little rocks in the Atlantic working for Project Puffin. Believe it or not, working on these islands really got me excited about the cooking aspect of food rather than simply the eating aspect (an aspect that goes all the way back to the chow-line and Ba Ba 3-4). Living in tents that were rarely dry the "kitchens" on the islands were not much better, and varied from a three walled tarp to a corner in a little wooden shack. Without a fridge on some islands, the type of food we had were quite limited. Instead of an oven we had a metal box that looked like a mini safe, that could be placed on a burner and it kind of acted like a very uneven oven. Now imagine if you will that you need to quick whip up a meal after a long day of work to satisfy a hungry group of people you just met. Suffice it to say I was a wee bit nervous when it was first cooking duty. I made frequent calls to the experts (logan and mom) and I soon gained confidence in these so-called kitchens. And yes I realize the implications of calling my girlfriend and mother for food advice. The women on the island were quick to point it out and suggested I was sexist for calling upon women for food help. But you know what, my mom and Logan know and love food the most out of anyone I know, why in Ham's name would I call anyone else? Should I call my college friends so they can tell me how to microwave easy mac? No. Perhaps if we had ham-steaks on the island I would've called my dad. Stop the incedious accusations please.

Overall, I was actually very surprisingly impressed with the food we ate on the islands. People took eating seriously and didn't want to disapoint. Granted we did have our share of Bacon added to mac'n cheese or smart dog (vegan hotdog) fried rice etc. But we ate fair amount of gems before the summer was over.

We liked the idea of eating food found on the island. With the exception of Rock weed and Seabirds, island food was slim pickens until we discovered how many mussels could be found in the rocks during low tide. We made some good meals with these guys, mainly a pasta with mussels in a tomato sauce. After these meals I would literally go into a "food coma", while the other people would be playing a game of post-dinner cards I would fall asleep in the shack. Or maybe that was a little bit of red tide sickness. Some islands even had a little garden, that may or may-not have grown with the help of human compost from years past, that grew herbs, lettuce, swiss chard etc. Other good island meals included coconut curries, homemade spice rubbed chicken wrapped in bacon (we got a fresh shipment of food and cooked the meat right away), lasagna and lobster. Making edible food for a group of people in these conditions taught me a lot about food.

Holly's Exploding Calzones

Yesterday I had the day off, so I invited a friend over to help me work in the garden and then eat lunch. All that shoveling and tilling works up quite an appetite, so I decided to make calzones. Never made them at home before, but it's the same basic pizza dough recipe that I use all the time, so I wasn't too concerned.

For the filling, I sauteed some sliced onions, red and green bell peppers, and portabello mushrooms in lots of olive oil, then tossed in chopped black olives and sliced pepperoni. Rolled out the dough, slathered it with homemade pizza sauce (muir glen organic canned tomatoes are the best) and handfuls of shredded mozzarella. I sealed them up tightly (or so I thought) and put them in the oven. Fifteen minutes went by before I peeked in, and to my slight dismay, both calzones had popped open and were leaking tomato sauce and veggies all over the place.

Flora tried to reassure me, suggesting that perhaps it could be my signature. Hey, she said, you could open up a place called "Holly's Exploding Calzones"! I thought that sounded rather like a bad case of syphilis, and was therefore entirely unappetizing. At any rate, the calzones were scrumptious, dipped in warmed marinara and devoured all too quickly.

Next up, my first foray into bagel-making!

sandwich smile

So, maybe i'm bending the rules here because i'm about to post about food that i didn't make or attempt to make. I'm hoping ya'll will excuse the bending because this edible creation deserves all the praise i'm about to give it. 

The sandwich happened one hungry afternoon on my recent trip to NYC. I had spent a good part of the day wandering around Soho and by 3 o'clock I had worked up quite an appetite. Eager to find just the right spot to suit both my palate and my wallet, I joined the line of patrons waiting inside a little deli. When it was my turn at the counter, I knew exactly what would do the job: a grilled portobello mushroom, sautéed spinach and egg plant, with avocado on rye. And I was right. It did a mighty fine job. 

Let's just say if I never had another sandwich again, it would be okay. I ate one half and moved right on to the second, diving the corners into sweet-tomato ketchup. In the end, the sandwich had earned lots of finger licking and even a wink for the deli boy. I sat facing a ball of tinfoil, content, with a sandwich smile. 

Where is the rhubarb? Who stole the asparagus? And the lilac bushes? Florida has me feeling out of sorts. It is April here, but it feels more like July. The 70-degree days have already bubbled into the 80s and now I can't walk to the grocery without sweating like a fat girl writing her first love letter. I am not sure that I can ever accept a spring without gray skies, chance of frost, and rhubarb. But, I don't mind taking what life gives me- I just won't call it spring.

I am beginning to worry that fresh pasta may be the monotony of this blog. Just for good measure, though, I will share one more with you. I think, if you could taste Joe’s velvety pasta sheets, you would understand the obsession. Feeling inspired by, admittedly, some signs of spring, we hashed up the dish to follow.

Joe rolled out the pasta sheets and sautéed fresh spinach with olive oil and garlic. Then, he mounded a dollop of ricotta on a stretch of pasta, and topped it with the spinach mixture, cratering out the center, a perfect nest for an egg yolk. The ravioli was then given a pasta top, edges trimmed, and was dropped into a hot tub of salted boiling water. To finish the dish, I conjured a light lemon cream sauce, made with the zest and juice of a lemon, a bit of cream and white wine, tarragon, thyme, S&P. Lovely.

chirp chirp.

-logan

Brunch is the best way to start a day off

Brunch. I could eat brunch for every meal. It is perfectly complemented by lots of mimosas, bad (great?) puns, and strong coffee. My friends love it when I invite them over for brunch, and since the days of Logan and Holly co-brunches, I have managed to branch out quite a bit from fritatta and fruit salad. In fact, I have quite a repetoire by now.

Pancakes were the request this morning, so I chose to make a recipe from work: Lemon Ricotta Puff Pancakes! My boss serves them with a "vanilla scented sauce" but I decided that a blueberry sauce would be far more delicious. I simmered the blueberries with some vermouth, fresh-squeezed lemon juice, and a couple spoonfuls of sucanat. I would have added a pinch of nutmeg, but alas, the cupboards were bare. I strained the blueberries, then put the sauce back in the pot to reduce, but the pancakes were ready and I didn't have time, and I certainly didn't want to debase the sauce with gummy old cornstarch, so i just poured it over the pancakes and let them soak it up, and sifted some powdered sugar over the whole mess.

I served them on a big silver tray, with my now-famous CANDY BACON on the side. I also stole that recipe for work, but hey, why not take credit for it anyway. I put the strips of bacon on a roasting rack set in a baking pan, then spread on dijon mustard and sprinkle with brown sugar. Bake at 375 for about 20 minutes, then die of pleasure the moment you put it in your mouth. Seriously, the most unenthusiastic of eaters will be moaning with the best of them if you put this bacon on their plate.

My pancakes did not disappoint, and after downing a round of mimosas, we decided bloody marys would do just fine for dessert. No celery in the crisper, so I cut up a few carrot sticks and garnished with an olive. Yum! Another successful brunch.

the puff

I realized, as I sat in front of the t.v. with a beer, a box of crackers, and a jar of peanut butter, that this moment wasn’t one of my finest. I needed a little reminding that my culinary abilities surpass scooping, spreading, and gulping, so I decided to share with you some seriously yum.button treats that I have made.

Some weeks ago, inspired by a formidable sweet tooth, a new cookbook (thanks Mary!) and a particularly rainy day, I tried my hand at homemade puff pastry. Similar to croissant or Danish dough, puff pastry is made so gosh darn delicious because it is lathered, layered, and bundled in butter, and lots of it. Although the process is time consuming, the result is a little crunchy, a little chewy, puffy, flakey, and, trust me, well worth it. If you can spare the time and the patience, I suggest you give the puff a shot. It is versatile, it freezes well, and it’ll impress the pants off your friends. Plus, who can resist the butter?

When I had finished my puff, I used a quarter of the dough to make a trio of danishes to be delivered to a sleeping Joe. The first Danish was filled with sausage, gruyere and brie cheeses, and cracked black pepper. For the second, I tossed raspberries with a sprinkle of sugar and a squirt of fresh lemon juice, and placed them on top of a layer of dark chocolate. The last Danish was filled with a fresh halved pear that had been dressed in lemon juice and nutmeg and rolled in sugar. All three were brushed with an egg wash to crisp up the tops just before baking. The fresh pear proved to be a bit juicy for the pastry dough, and could have improved with a bit of poaching first. The raspberry dark chocolate and savory danishes were both de-lish… good enough to convince Joe to get out of bed and do the damn dishes.

Come Easter, I was in the mood to impress myself again. Thank god, I still had some puff pastry in the freezer. So, while the Easter Chicken was hard at work laying us some fine eggs, I got to work in the kitchen. Instead of danishes, I rolled the puff into sticky buns, layered with cinnamon, sea salt, brown sugar, and another helping of butter. I paired the sweet pastries with a batch of creamy scrambled eggs, seasoned with garlic, red pepper flakes, S&P, and cooked until still a bit runny. I finished the eggs by folding in a liberal helping of ricotta cheese and fresh basil. My reward for all this hard work was getting to watch Joe poke through the garbage for the last of his hidden Easter eggs. We both filled our big fat guts, kissed the Easter Chicken, and then, unceremoniously, headed to work.

yum yum.

logan