her able hands

I have no idea why I have been forking over between $5 and $7 for organic, too-sweet, too-many ingredient bags and boxes of granola for so many years—granola that tastes, in a word, meh. I guess I didn’t realize how easy it is to make the perfect blend of just exactly what my family’s palate desires in a granola, which is oats, honey, flax seeds and some kind of ground nuts. We don’t like the dried fruit, big nuts scene, or the giant globs of crunchy, sugar-crusted grains that too closely resemble dried turds for my taste.

Maybe it just seemed like such a fussy DIY thing to do when I have so many other things that I have to try to squeeze into so few hours at home. Maybe it was just laziness? Well, I don’t think I’ll be buying pre-made granola ever again. My homemade is the best tasting topping for yogurt I have ever eaten. Ever.

Oat and Honey Granola

5 cups rolled oats
1 cup almond or walnut or pecan meal
1 cup lightly ground flax seed
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup honey
1/4 cup maple syrup

Preheat oven to 275º

Mix all dry ingredients together in a large bowl.
Mix wet ingredients together and pour over dry ingredients. Mix well to coat all of the oats. Pour into two greased 13 x 9 glass baking dishes. Bake until golden, for about an hour and a half, stirring the oats every 20 minutes or so.

Chris asked if it was okay for him to eat some in the mornings, he knew I was so excited about the flavor and thought maybe it was all just for me. Yes. I get like that sometimes. Usually with things nobody else likes anyway, like my pickled turnips. But sometimes it’s more serious, like when I have a bar of Dagoba chocolate with chili flakes. Yeah, that’s a back-off everybody situation. I’ve been known to slap hands reaching towards my Dagoba chocolate.

But I’ll share the granola because there’s nothing that makes me happier than hearing the contented chewing sounds and yummy groans coming from my people when they’re eating something I have made with these two hands.

Lila has asked for “yogurt cereal” just about every day since I made it last week, and I’m probably eating too much of it. That lightly sweet, toasted nutty flavor with the chewy crunch, well, you’re just going to have to take my word for it that it’s the best thing for breakfast and makes one hell of an afternoon snack. Or even better, try it for yourself.

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More cupcake awesomeness happening over here.

I wanted to do something yummy for St. Patrick’s day to bring to work. Corned Beef and Cabbage? Not cubicle friendly by any stretch of the gastroimagination. Beer might help, but is probably not allowed. Sweets are always appreciated. Then I saw this post and knew I had to try stout and chocolate together.

Oh, my.

Oh my, oh my, oh my.

I used this recipe from Dave Lieberman with Droste chocolate and a Guinness stout. The cake came out so spongy and moist (a tiny bit chewy due to about one minute of over mixing) with perfect little puffy domes.

I didn’t follow his recipe for Cream Cheese Frosting exactly. I prefer it with equal parts butter and cream cheese. It’s an incredibly wet frosting, the butter and cheese creamed until fluffy and then whipping cream added and beat until frothy. Then you add your sugar and vanilla. I used vanilla bean paste and too bloody much cream, so had to use more sugar than I wanted to in order to get it to some kind of spreading consistency. I piped it on with a giant round tip and then dusted them with cocoa.

I’m thinking I’ll just go ahead and put them out at breakfast tomorrow, because otherwise I’ll be eating them all day. I had one tonight after supper and I think I’m in love. The frosting is so soft and creamy, with a mild sour, but sweet vanilla intensity and just the perfect texture to go along with the dense, moist cake that’s almost black. The frosting looks like the foamy head on the top of a glass of Guinness.

Bottom’s Up!

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People, this was such an easy recipe and so absolutely scrumptious. It’s from Martha Stewart’s Original Classics Cookbook via Serious Eats. Oh, my. I’m in a bit of pain today from eating two. It seems my wheat sensitivity is building up again, so time to do a cleanse and lay off for a while. What a glorious way to say goodbye!

The dough was quite sticky and soft when I scraped it out of the bowl and onto the counter to knead after its ten minutes in the KitchenAid with the dough hook.

Five minutes under hand turned it into a springy, silky soft ball of dough that took close to two hours to double in size, even in a warmed oven. But it was only 17º out yesterday, so it had its work cut out for it.

After the rise, I punched it down and rolled it out into a big rectangle and spread the caramelized onions all over. I cut down the onions by half because Chris has a hard time digesting too many onions. I also skipped the nutmeg and used dried thyme and cracked pepper because I wanted something more savory to go with the Butternut Soup (from Joy of Cooking).

The dough after the rise was even silkier, if that’s possible. This is by far the softest dough I’ve ever worked with and had success. When I rolled it up and cut the roll into thick slices, I had to finagle the pieces into the pan for the second rise without squishing them and losing the onions.

But it worked out and after an hour they puffed up beautifully. Thirty five minutes in the oven and they came out golden brown and filling the whole house with the most sweet and savory fragrance.

They were the perfect accompaniment to the soup, which has a bit of ginger and is mellow sweet, creamy and topped with chopped cilantro. Just the meal for a blizzardy night in Ohio. We rounded it off with a green salad and a glass of the grape while watching Michael Clayton (pretty good).

Half of the pan is left, and they’re staring at me from the kitchen counter this morning, just begging for a poached egg and some bacon, but I will not give in to the siren’s call.

My belly really does hurt.

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I found a new use for the scrumptious pickled turnips:

And the mummy even agreed that the mommy needed a little edge removal after the day she had yesterday (of which we will not speak because we’re being more careful about work-plaining on blog.

Sure, the vodka may have canceled out the digestive aid effects of the pickled turnips, but we all have to make sacrifices.

Vodka Martini:

Fill shaker 2/3 full with ice.

Pour 2+ shots of a good vodka over ice depending on size of glass . (I did 1 shot because it was Thursday night and who wants to get drunk anymore anyway? Like I said, edge removal. Not stupor inducing.)

Shake and set aside.

Pour a few drops of vermouth into martini glass. Swirl it around and around to coat surface of glass, then pour out any extra into the sink.

Shake vodka one more time. (I’ll usually set my shaker aside for about five minutes, just to let some ice melt into the vodka because I’m a wuss and a lightweight).

Place 2 sticks of pickled turnip in glass.

Pour chilled vodka over turnips.

Sip slowly and feel the spikes retreat back into your brain.

Now watch a movie and then go to bed, but make sure you drink a tall glass of water sometime in between or you might wake up feeling like somebody rolled out a Berber carpet on your tongue.

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If you’ve always wanted to try making your own bread, but worry it will come out like a brick or a hockey puck—this is your bread. If you don’t have the time and/or energy it takes to make beautiful artisan loaves like you can buy at the local bakery (some of those recipes take 3-4 days), but really wish you did because it chaps your hide to pay $6 for something you know you ought to be able to make in your own damn kitchen—this is your bread.

I used to bake artisan breads every week when I was home with the kids, but have only attempted it twice since I went back to work. I’ve missed having that in my life but there are only so many available hours away from the cubicle, and as you can probably see, I’ve been a bit cupcake obsessed lately. Both times I committed to the 3-day process and made the incredible Rosemary Olive Oil breads from my Amy’s Bread cookbook, the loaves came out stunning and I thoroughly enjoyed the process from the first mixing of the sponge, to tipping the loaves to knock on the bottom to see if they were ready. It made me feel connected to my food in that special way that I believed only a long, slow process can do. Well, that’s what I used to think.

Now I know that the long, slow process can happen with fewer steps—with steps so few as a matter of fact, that anyone and everyone should be able to find time to put a fresh loaf on the table once a week—and still turn out a most amazing loaf of bread with a chewy, flaky crust and large air bubbles and a beautiful crumb.

Now, I used a mix of whole wheat and unbleached white organic flours and let it sit on the counter for 22 hours, but my kitchen was cold. I never have it up to 70º unless I’m already in there cooking, so I don’t think it ever got quite warm enough. The 2-hour rise in the floured towels did not produce a tall puff so much as a wide, low one, but the dough had very good spring, so I gave it an extra half-hour while the dutch oven warmed, then dumped it in and hoped for the best. The fragrance of freshly baked bread may even top my love for the smell of melted chocolate. The finished loaf, as you can see, came out a little flat, but it did puff up in the oven some, and really, it didn’t seem to effect the flavor at all. It had a slightly sour aftertaste, and the crust was rich and chewy with bits of cornmeal baked into it, the air pockets were shiny from the stretched gluten and they made the perfect little spoons for sopping up extra sauce.

We tucked into that loaf with the ragú (which blew my mind, again with the slow process cooking, so very, very good) and a green salad with honey mustard dressing for our Sunday dinner, and it was heavenly. Chris’ mom joined us and we sat at the dining room table (which hasn’t happened in a while because we’ve been piling things in there while we work on other areas of the house) and it made me so happy to have everyone facing each other. To have conversation. To see my family’s faces while they ate, the happy little noises everyone made as they tasted each thing (though Lila emphatically did not like the salad dressing because it was too spicy).

So seriously, try this bread. It’s well worth the effort, and as Sandra said in the comments on Saturday’s post, making it made her feel like a real baker. And if you’re interested in a most excellent online source for all things bread, do go and check out The Fresh Loaf.

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