Saturday, June 19, 2010

Carrot Stick Salad

I often make the mistake of cooking something in a rush because I am so hungry or because if I don't get a move on it will be 10:00 before we eat dinner that I forget to record it in case it should turn out well enough to share with you. This is one of those things.


When I was a kid my mom would let my brother and I "cook". We were the proud owners of The Kid's Cookbook, I think it was called, and we would drag it out and pore over the pages agonizing over what to make. Our specialties were ants on a log and carrot coins. It's quite possible that the first thing I learned to "cook" was carrots. And by "cook" I mean setting a cutting board on the floor, carefully cutting the carrots into coins with a dull knife, sticking a toothpick in each one, and arranging them on a plate. I was born to be in the kitchen! Fortunately my skills have advanced a bit since those early years but I can still appreciate the charm of a simple dish.

 As luck would have it while all those people who live on either coast are gorging themselves on local cherries and strawberries and peas and avocadoes I am still waiting for my garden to produce something other than an unruly patch of arugula and one pea pod. So when it came to what to make into a salad to go with dinner my best option was a bag of carrots (from one of the coasts, of course) that have been patiently waiting in the fridge for their moment of glory.

One other thing that is growing like a weed in my garden is a mint plant. It is threatening to take over all the bell pepper territory so in an effort to aid their growth (with the hope that maybe by October(?!) the plants will be big enough to produce a pepper) I lopped off a sprig and it became part of my salad plan. Eight leaves down, about a million to go!

This salad is so simple I almost feel guilty calling it so, but it is one of those perfect summer dishes - quick, cool, crisp, and tasty!

Carrot Stick Salad with Red Wine Vinegar and Mint

4 medium carrots
1/2 a small shallot thinly sliced
6-8 mint leaves, rolled up and sliced into ribbons
a splash of red wine vinegar
a drizzle of honey
a pinch of kosher salt

Slice the carrots into long strips and then cut those strips into matchsticks. Toss all ingredients in a bowl and season to taste. The acidity of the vinegar should be balanced with a bit of sweetness from the honey and just a pinch of salt to take the edge off.

Serves 2 as a side dish

Sunday, June 6, 2010

When Life Hands You Lemons


There is a saying that goes something like, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade". Here is a saying I like better. "When it is a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, make lemonade." Sure it's not quite as catchy, but  it's a lot more practical.


Remember the day when you could drop by a neighbor's house and they'd invite you in for a frosty glass of lemonade? No? Me neither. But I've read about it in books and it sounds lovely. I often wish those were the times in which we lived; it seemed there wasn't a worry that a seat on the porch swing and a glass of lemonade couldn't soothe. While my story doesn't quite hearken back to yesteryear it is a good one.


Last week my friend invited us over for a delicious lunch accompanied by some very tasty limeade; it was during that lunch that I learned a little secret which (I hope she won't mind) I'm now going to share with you.

Zest. Yep. That's it. One word that will change your life, or at least your lemonade. It takes the lemon flavor to a whole new level, packing a punch one cannot achieve with juice alone.


I'm going to play my food snob card here and say that in my opinion lemonade made from a can is not real lemonade. Worse yet is the powdered stuff that used to lurk in my grandmother's cupboard. Sure they can be handy in a pinch, say for instance a large group of dehydrated people happen to come to your house and all you've got is a tray of ice, a faucet, and a minute to spare.  Barring those circumstances it is not okay to serve lemonade that didn't come out of a lemon. Period. Ok, I'll get off my soapbox now.

Feel free to tinker with this recipe as you see fit. It would be delicious with limes or a combination of lemons and limes and even tastier if you were, say, to mash around a few mint leaves in your glass before you added your lemon or limeade. Mmm, I think I better go pour another glass!


Zest-y Lemonade

Zest of 1 lemon (I like to use a Microplane, it produces very fine zest)
1 c. lemon juice
1/2-3/4 c. sugar
4 c. water
1 c. ice cubes, plus more for serving

Zest one lemon and place the zest in a pitcher. If you use a box grater to zest your fruit be sure to only get the yellow part and avoid the white pith. Mince the zest very fine so you don't have to chew your lemonade.

Juice 6-8 lemons to yield 1 cup of juice. Pour into pitcher with zest, add sugar to taste, and top with water. Stir vigorously to dissolve the sugar. Add 1 cup ice cubes to chill. Pour into ice filled glasses, find a porch to sit on, and enjoy!

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Get Out Your Griddle!


Pancakes and I go way back. We've known each other since my parents had shag carpet and I had no front teeth. We've been on camping trips and boat excursions together. Over the years we have occasionally met over a restaurant table, but it is fair to say we became best acquainted during the years of my family's ritual Friday night pancake dinners. Yes. We ate pancakes. For dinner. On Friday. Every week. It was wonderful.


How the tradition came about I don't know. What I do know is that pancakes, when done right, are divine. I have eaten and made my share of pancakes in this life. There were buckwheat cakes and wholewheat cakes, cakes flecked with orange zest and cakes dotted with blueberries. There were cakes fortified with wheatgerm and flax and cakes studded with cinnamon scented pears. But the pancake to go down in history was laden with little golden nuggets of granola, offering up at once a sweet, delicious, yet hearty, stick-to-your-ribs breakfast. It was after that life-altering granola pancake experience that I began to ponder further pancake possibilities.


Fastforward to a couple of months ago when I happened to see two fellow bloggers adding pancakes to their repertoires, both of which involved oatmeal. Since I don't live anywhere near here or here or here it was clear that in order to get my pancake fix I needed to take matters into my own hands. It occured to me that a pancake made with oats had the potential to mimick the granola pancake of glory. True it would not be the same, and would best be considered a second cousin once removed, but it just might do the trick.




This pancake is second to none. It is at once fluffy and filling. It is substantial but won't make you leave the table feeling like you just ate a brick. It is best served draped in warm fruit compote, or if you are a purist, with a splash of pure maple syrup.

The only drawback to this pancake is that you need to know the night before that you want to eat it in the morning (or if you happen to have a p.m. pancake ritual you'll need to prepare accordingly the morning of). But, I assure you that once these bad boys have ventured off the griddle, onto your plate, and subsequently into your mouth there is not a single drawback that will keep you from eating them time and again! They have become my one and only pancake pursuit and have accompanied me from Mexico to South Dakota and pretty much everywhere in between that happens to have a kitchen stocked with a skillet and a spatula.

Oatmeal Pancakes
adapted from Orangette

I had been making these pancakes just as the recipe on Orangette states until the most recent batch; it was late at night and my oats were in the bowl waiting for their buttermilk bath when (gasp!) I realized I had only half the amount of buttermilk necessary. This has NEVER happened to me before! I always err on the side of having too much buttermilk standing around in the fridge twiddling it's thumbs just waiting to mold. A quick mental jog led me to think that perhaps a mixture of yogurt and milk might have the same effect as buttermilk. The next morning as I ate the thickest, most light and fluffy oatmeal pancakes ever I don't think I could have been happier to run out of an ingredient!

2 c. Rolled Oats
1 c. Milk
1 c. Plain Yogurt
1/2 c. All Purpose Flour
2 Tbsp. Sugar
1 tsp. Baking Powder
1 tsp. Baking Soda
1/2 tsp. Salt
2 Large Eggs
1/2 Stick Butter (4 Tbsp), melted and cooled

In a large bowl mix together the oats, milk, and yogurt. Stir well to make sure all the oats are moistened. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and place in the fridge the night before (or approximately 10-12 hours before you want to eat your pancakes).

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. When you are ready to begin cooking the pancakes stir the eggs into the oat mixture, mixing well. Next stir in the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter. Mix well.

Scoop approximately 1/3 c. batter onto a lightly greased, preheated (med-low works well on my stove) griddle. Gently flip when bubbles appear on the top and the edges are just beginning to set. Griddle till golden brown and firm to the touch. Serve immediately or, if you are making a large batch, which I often do (this recipe doubles perfectly), preheat the oven to 190 or 200 F and place a casserole dish inside. As you take the pancakes from the griddle place them in the casserole, covered loosely with foil. You lose a little bit of that crunchy crust but you get to sit down and eat with your fellow dining companions without having to hop up every 3 minutes to turn pancakes; well worth the crust sacrifice if you ask me!

Serves 2-3