Small disasters

Friday was a day of small disasters, a comedy of errors if you will. First, three minutes after I put it in the oven, I realized that I forgot the cider vinegar in my Everything You Need Cake. I quickly poured the teaspoons of vinegar into the still wet batter, gave it a quick mix and stuck back in the oven, hoping for the best. Then, tasting the frosting I was making for said cake, I realized I forgot to add the sugar. That was when I realized that it was going to be one of those days in the kitchen where I probably should just remove myself from said kitchen. Those days happen. Alas, I had a few more culinary responsibilities. And so it went on. I had a jar of not-pesto pesto on the counter that tipped and went splattering all over the floor, while at the same time knocking over my open water bottle, sending water cascading into my pantry. That was a fun one to clean up and a waste of good herbs to boot. And then, to cap it all off, under the guise of "helping" I managed to break a glass while a guest at a friends house. I had serious thoughts about Australia, but some days are like that, even in Australia- or so I've been led to believe.

The frosting that I almost ruined is a new addition to my repertoire. Usually, when I'm keeping things non-dairy, I don't bother with frosting, I just make a simple glaze. But sometimes, you want something thicker, with more heft and less sweet, especially where chocolate is concerned (and we all agree chocolate frosting is the best kind of frosting). And since I refuse to go anywhere near margarine, frostings such as these are few and far between. Then I discovered vegan  chocolate boiled frosting, and everything changed, utterly changed. This stuff is thick and smooth and ganache-like and, with a few adjustments to the original recipe, utterly intense. I am frosting-less no more.

Chocolate Frosting
Adapted from VegWeb

As mentioned above, I made a bunch of changes to the recipe. The original recipe is really just a combination of sugar, cornstarch, cocoa and water, with a little vanilla thrown it. I felt that it didn't have enough oomph, so I upped the amount of cocoa, replaced the water with coffee and added in some chopped dark chocolate at the end (and a glug of whisky, because I like putting alcohol in things and chocolate and whisky is an under-appreciated combination)

1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons cocoa
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup strong coffee
about 1 oz dark chocolate, chopped
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
a glug of whisky (optional)

1. In a small sauce whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, cocoa and salt. Add the coffee and place over medium heat, stirring constantly (and I mean constantly. No, really, for the love of everything holy, do not stop stirring! If you do, your cornstarch and cocoa will lump and stick to the bottom of the pot and burn and it will be terrible, horrible.) until it thickens and begin to boil. Remove from heat. Stir in the chocolate, oil, vanilla and whisky, if using.  Let cool, frost to your heart's content.

This is just to say

This summer, like every summer, has been plums. All summer, from late June and into even the first days of October, it's been plums, plums plums. I wait with great anticipation every summer for plums, because plums mean Plumble 1 and Plumble 2 and Jess's Most Perfect Plum Cake. And every year, I make those desserts again and again and again until the end of the summer when I have overdosed on plums and the very idea of a plum-based dessert makes me want to scream. That was the situation I found myself in a few weeks ago- facing dessert with nothing but plums in the house- and I couldn't. I couldn't do Plumble 1 or Plumble 2 or even Jess's Most Perfect Plum Cake. Instead, I turned to  Deb of Smitten Kitchen, which is where I often turn when I am out of inspiration. As usual, she didn't fail me.

Deb's Dimply Plum Cake, with its cute little dimples, is kinda-sort like Jess's cake, except it's not. It's flavor profile is different, the texture of i,t too, is not quite the same. It's a different sort of almost perfect plum cake, flavored with vanilla and orange and cardamom. It got rave reviews from the guests and from myself. I think I'm done with plums for the year. But next year, my friends, next year, there will be a new player in the summer rotation. Be well forewarned, summer is coming. (Eventually. Next year.)

Dimply Plum Cake

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Notes: Deb uses butter. To keep the cake non-dairy, I used coconut oil, which gave the cake a light, coconuty tinge. I liked it. But if you are averse to coconut oil, by all means use butter. In addition, Deb used cinammon, claiming that she doesn't like the cardamom that appears in the original recipe. I find that hard to believe. There is no such thing as not liking cardamom. I used cardamom. 

1 1/2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon cardamom

5 tablespoons butter or coconut oil, at room temperature

3/4  cup light brown sugar

2 eggs

1/3 cup vegetable oil

zest of 1 orange

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

8 plums halved and pitted

1. Preheat the oven to 350 F. In a small bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt and cardamom. Set aside. 

2. With a mixer, beat the butter/coconut oil until it is soft and creamy. Add the sugar and beat another 3 minutes or so. Add the eggs, one at a time, then beat in the oil, zest and vanilla. The batter will look creamy and smooth. Fold in the dry ingredients. 

3. Pour the batter into a greased 8-inch pan and smooth with a spatula. Press the plum halves into the batter in a nice pattern. Bake for 30-40 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool on a rack and serve. (The cake will keep well-wrapped, at room temperature, for up to 2 days.)

Maple Dreams

Here is my dirty little secret: (Ok, so it's neither dirty, nor a secret. Semantics.) Jerusalem is not my favorite Ottolenghi cookbook. Gasp! Shock and dismay! Don't get me wrong, I love Jerusalem. I love, love, love Jerusalem. I am cooking my way through Jerusalem, but it is not my sun and my stars. My most favorite Ottolenghi cookbook, is simply put, Ottolenghi. Ottolenghi was Yotam and Sami's first cookbook, and it is filled with recipes from their store, Ottolenghi. It is more rambling and yet somehow more grounded than either Jerusalem or Plenty. It's a very real book- the foods in it are distinguished by the fact that people love to eat them rather than by genre or geography, which makes it eclectic, meandering and friendly.  Everything I've cooked from it has been great, and I find myself coming back to those recipes again and again and again. In fact, I've pared Roast Chicken with Sumac, Za'atar and Lemon down to its very basics- around here everyone just calls it Ottolenghi Chicken.

This Rosh Hashana, I was faced with the task of feeding vegetarians. Ordinarily this would not be a difficult task, but somehow on Rosh Hashana it seemed like a test indeed. Whence brisket and chicken with dates? To hearten myself against this arduous task, I decided it was time to expand my Rosh Hashana dessert repertoire. Usually, I make nothing but honey cake, honey cake, honey cake, but this year I could move beyond that. I could use butter and milk and cream. The possibilities were endless. I went with Ottolenghi. After all, how could I resist a recipe called Apple and Olive Oil Cake with Maple Icing? I mean how could I?  Lucky for me, my brother had just recently gifted me with a large jug of real, live maple syrup from the U.S. And let me tell you a thing: Cream cheese-maple frosting? Pretty fucking spectacular. Highly recommended. Totally worth the lack of brisket.


Apple and Olive Oil Cake with Maple Frosting

Adapted from Ottolenghi: The Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi

So. Here's the thing: much as I love olive oil cakes, I don't think the olive oil in this cake is strictly necessary. The frosting is intense enough that you don't really feel the delicacy of the olive oil. The next time I make it, I'll probably just save some money and use vegetable oil. If however, you are making the cake without frosting, definitely use olive oil. Also, Ottolenghi's original recipe calls for 80 grams of raisins. I don't like raisins in my apple cake, but if you'd like to add them, feel free to do so. (Simmer the raisins in 4 tablespoons of water until the water is absorbed before adding).

Cake:
280 grams flour
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
120 ml olive oil or vegetable oil
160 grams sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
3 apples, peeled, cored and diced
zest of 1 lemon
2 egg whites

Frosting:
100 grams butter at room temperature
100 grams light muscovado sugar
85 ml maple syrup
220 grams cream cheese at room temperature

1. Preheat the oven to 350 f. Sift together the flour, cinnamon, salt, baking powder and baking soda. Set aside.
2. In a freestanding mixer, beat the oil, sugar and vanilla, using a  paddle attachment. (If you don't have a freestanding mixer, use a hand-held one.) Add the eggs one at a time, until the batter is smooth and thick. Mix in the apples and lemon zest. Fold in the dry ingredients.
3. In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites until they hold soft peaks. Gently fold them into the batter in two additions. The batter will be stiff and thick even after you have added the egg whites.
4. Pour the batter into a greased and lined 8-inch springform pan.  Bake 1 1/2* hours, or until a skewer comes out clean. Remove from oven and cool and remove from pan.
5. Make the frosting:  Beat together the butter, sugar and maple syrup until light and airy. Add the cream cheese and beat until smooth.
6. Assemble the cake: Use a serrated knife, to cut the cake in half, horizontally. Spread a layer of frosting on the bottom half of the cake. Carefully top with the top half of the cake. Spoon the rest of the frosting on top and smooth with a knife. (To make ahead, do not frost the cake. Wrap well and refrigerate it for up the three days. Frost before serving.)

I'll dig with it.

"What a gift, since my life so often feels like a hallway of closed doors"

The quote above comes from this post in The Toast. The Toast is one of my favorite new websites. It's intelligent and weird and whimsical and funny. (If you haven't yet read Texts from Miss Havisham, you have not yet lived). Anyway, I've been thinking about that post a lot as Rosh Hashana came and went. I've been thinking about doors and gateways and keys that lock and unlock.

This year, my friends, this year has been hard. It's been hard emotionally and financially and just all around stressful. The thing is though, I also think that this year has been an important year. Maybe it was a key or a gateway-something to go through until you reach the other side; something to unlock hidden things. So that they become what they are. Maybe one day I will look back and think, yes, that year, that hard year, was the year. It made me. It's getting there already, wherever there is. I have a new job. I like it (knock on wood. spit over your shoulder). I have a new roommate. So far, so good (knock on wood, spit over your shoulder). It's a bit easier to breathe now, like a key halfway turned inside of me.

I've also been thinking a lot about Seamus Heaney, lately. It's only natural. He was my first poet. No, that's not true. My first poet was probably Yeats or Blake or any of the other poets my father tried to make us love while we rolled our eyes. I wasn't introduced to Heaney until I was in college. But still, he was the first poet to make me really think about poetry- about how specificity of language, and place and sense could yield something universal. You didn't grow up in a farmhouse on the fault line between the modern world and the past, with nature steadily creeping in to all your rhythms and associations. You have never heard the sound of someone cutting sod. And yet, you are there in those moments that Heaney remembers for you. You are present in a memory and feeling that isn't specific to you, but is somehow yours anyway.

I was saddened when I heard that he had passed on. It felt as if the world had lost a truth-teller, and if there is anything we need right now, it is a teller of truths. So I re-read Station Island, aloud, as these things should be read, and it has followed me into the new year:

"...'Your obligation
is not discharged by any common rite.
What you do you must do on your own.

The main thing is to write
for the joy of it. Cultivate a work-lust
that imagines its haven like your hands at night

dreaming the sun in the sunspot of a breast.
You are fasted now, light-headed, dangerous.
Take off from here. And don't be so earnest,

so ready for the sackcloth and the ashes.
Let go, let fly, forget.
You've listened long enough. Now strike your note.'"

The following recipe was meant to be part of my Rosh Hashana menu. This post was also meant to be posted before Rosh Hashana. Neither of those things happened. The first did not happen because I was feeding vegetarians and as such, didn't make chicken or meat for Rosh Hashana. Like at all. It was weird at first, but all in all, my meals turned out lovely, the food was good and a good time was had by all. The second did not happen because life is sort of hectic at the moment.

In any case, this recipe isn't just for Rosh Hashana, in fact, I think the first time I made was a Passover, many years ago, but it is sweet with honey and dates, tempered with the tartness of lemon and the sharpness of a good amount of black pepper. That's a hope for the new year- may it be sweet and sharp.

Poulet aux Dattes (Chicken with Dates)

 Adapted from The Book of Jewish Food by Claudia Roden

6 chicken quarters
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 large onions, chopped
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 tablespoon honey
salt
a good amount of black pepper
1/2 pound dates, pitted
juice of a lemon
a pinch of saffron

1. In a large pan,  heat the oil over a high heat. Brown the chicken quarters until lightly golden -about three minutes each side. When, brown, remove them, turn the heat to low, and add in the onions. Cook until soft. Add the cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg and honey and about 1 3/4 of a cup of water. Stir and return the chicken to the pan. Bring to a boil, add a healthy pinch of salt and a lot of freshly ground black pepper. Lower the heat again and simmer for 25 minutes.

2. After 25 minutes , add the dates, lemon juice and saffron. Cook for another 10 minutes until the chicken is tender. Remove from heat and serve.

The Kids are Alright

This has been the summer of family. My brother, sister-in-law and the niecettes 5 came for an extended visit. They rented an apartment down the block from mine, and for the first time in over ten years, I lived within walking distance from my brother, albeit for a mere two months. Of course, the last time I lived near my brother, he didn't yet have five wonderful daughters, so this was a little bit of a new experience for me.

It was nice having my nieces living down the block from me. It was nice popping in for dinner, or just to say hi. It was nice having them raid my bookshelves, and my friends' bookshelves, because my nieces are nothing if not voracious readers. It was nice taking them to the Botanical Gardens and to the park and to the bookstore. It was nice having them in my everyday life. It was nice having them in my kitchen.

The kitchen part only happened at the way end of their trip, a few weekends ago. I had had various niece-aunt cooking projects planned (homemade pasta! caramel brownies! Marcella Hazan's pasta sauce!), but alas, this summer was a busy one on all fronts, and somehow, they never came to pass. And then, on Friday, on a total whim, I decided I needed to bake and also on a whim, my two middle nieces decided to bake with me. There was a lot of negotiating of turns (it's my turn to mix, no, it's mine  I want to pour. Why did you let her pour? You get the picture. ), but all in all, it was a good time. There was even some bowl licking.

When I was a kid, my mother used to make a vegan chocolate cake that we called Wacky Cake because it didn't contain eggs and that's just wacky. It was one of the first things I ever baked on my own. It's a fun recipe for a kid, because it involves digging holes in the dry ingredients and then watching the volcanic eruption of baking soda and vinegar doing their explody thing as they meet (see, science is fun!). I haven't made Wacky Cake in years, because even though it is an excellent cake, I have grown up and moved on to more, er, mature things (sort of, not really. Explody things are never not fun)- by which I mean coffee and beer. I like to call this cake the Everything You Need Cake, because it contains everything you need in life- chocolate, coffee and beer. Mrs. Larkin on Food 52, from whom I adapted this recipe, calls it Fudgy Stout Chocolate Cake, and that's a fine name, but personally I feel that my version really gets to the heart of the matter. I know what's important in life.

Everything You Need Cake is basically a more complex version of Wacky Cake. Like Wacky Cake, it's vegan and it gets its lift from that spectacular vinegar-baking soda combination. The two cakes are also incredibly versatile. You can double the recipe, you can cut it in half, you can bake it in a loaf pan, or cut the baking time and make cupcakes. Awesomeness all around. However, unlike Wacky Cake, Everything Cake is not afraid of deeper flavors, which is where the coffee and beer come in. And maybe, when introducing my nieces to vegan chocolate cake, I should have started with Wacky Cake for tradition's sake. But I guess part of growing up is taking traditions and then making them your own so they can, in turn, be passed on to someone else to be changed again.

Everything You Need Cake

Adapted from Mrs. Larkin on Food52.com

A note: Mrs. Larkin suggests using Guinness Stout in this recipe. I use whatever beer I have on hand, which is usually something a good deal cheaper than Guinness. Still, I happen to like dark beers, so whatever I use is usually fairly rich and bitter and malty.

1 1/2 cups flour
7 tablespoons cocoa
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup dark beer
1/2 cup strong coffee
1/4 cup water
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup vegetable oil.

1. Preheat the oven to 350 F.

2. Sift  the flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt into a medium bowl. Whisk in the sugar. In a measuring cup, combine the beer, coffee, water, vanilla and vinegar. Add to the dry ingredients. Mix until combine. Pour in vegetable oil, whisk vigorously until you have a smooth, loose batter.

3. Pour into a greased and lined 8 inch cake pan. Bake for 30-35 minutes. Cool. Serve plain, or with a mocha glaze like the one in this recipe

Be there. Swim through.

"Sit, be still, and listen
because you're drunk
and we're at the edge of the roof"
-Rumi

Change, even good change, makes me anxious. There's nothing to be done about it, really. It's just the way I'm wired, I guess.

Anxiety is the feeling of always being at the edge of roof. It's like being drunk- everything is raw and cushioned all at the same time. The world has sharp edges. You are exposed and you are in fog. It's a constant, stomach-churning feeling- the compulsion, to do something, do something; to take arms against a sea of troubles, even when the troubles aren't troubles. But there's nothing to do. There's nowhere to go.

Sit, be still, and listen.

This is a mantra. I know the drill.

Be there. Swim through.

The push off the wall. The cool water rushing past your body- your outstretched arms, hands overlapped. The dolphin kick. The silence. That breath you take as you surface- the first measure of a meter that will take you across a great expanse.

Be there. Settle into it. There is only the moment you are in. There is only one way across this great expanse.

Breathe.

This potato salad is a little late. I am sorry about that. It took a while to get it right, and besides, I was busy swimming.

I got the framework for this recipe from my friend, Yehosheva. Yo was my college roommate, the person who made me love cilantro, who introduced me to tamarind and polenta and food that is bright, bright with flavor; the person with whom I went to my first folk-rock concert (Dan Bern- where its at!) and dream-cast a ridiculous number of movies. Now, she is my skype-buddy. We may live across the ocean from each other, but we still dream-cast movies. We read books. We talk food and movies and art and culture. We commiserate about life. We fangirl over Pardes, only the best kosher restaurant in everywhere.

This potato salad is one of those foods that is bright, bright with flavor. It's a punch your in the mouth sort of dish, but in a good way. It gets its kick from lemon juice, garlic, ginger, soy sauce and a good dose of sesame oil, and that's just the dressing. I think though, what I like best about this potato salad, are the roasted radishes. I've been eating roasting radishes for years. I like the way radishes sort of mellow and sweeten when they're roasted. Sometimes, I eat them plain and sometimes I use them as I would use bitter greens and add them to pasta with some garlic, olive oil, lemon zest and pecorino. That's a pretty good dish. But it never occurred to me to pair them with potatoes, or that they would play well with Asian flavors, even though now that I think about it, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world. But that's what I have Yo for, to point out all the things standing in front of my face this whole while.

Yo, thanks for this salad. It's awesome and I miss you. Let's go to Italy and eat all the food.



Potato and Roasted Radish Salad with Sesame Dressing

Adapted from Yehosheva Markovitz

For the salad:
6 medium red potatoes, unpeeled
1 bunch radishes, with their greens
1 medium carrot, grated
olive oil
salt
pepper

For the dressing:
2 cloves garlic, crushed
juice of 1 small lemon
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp sesame oil
2 radish leaves, chopped
1 heaping teaspoon ground ginger
1 heaping teaspoon ground mustard

For garnish:
scallions
cilantro


1. Preheat the oven to 375 F. While the oven is heating, cut the potatoes into medium chunks, about a 1/2 an inch big. Dice the radishes in the same manner.

2. Toss 3/4 of the radishes with olive oil, salt and pepper. Place in a roasting pan and roast, covered for 20 minutes. Uncover the pan, and continue roasting for another 15 minutes. They will become milder, both in color and in taste. Remove from oven.

3. While the radishes are roasting, place the potatoes in a large pot filled with cold, well-salted water. Bring to a boil and then turn down the heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender. Drain and then return to the pot to keep warm.

4. Combine the ingredients for the dressing in a blender (or use a hand blender). Blend until until smooth.

5. In large bowl, mix together the warm potatoes, roasted radishes, the remaining raw radishes and carrot. Pour the dressing over the potatoes. Toss. Garnish with plenty of chopped cilantro and scallions. Serve.

Inspiration - Red and Green

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