Buckwheat Crepes

Whenever I think back to the three days I spent in Paris back in 2010, my memories always seem to be one of two extremes. Some of them are wonderful and nearly surreal like cheese, baguettes, and perhaps a little too much wine beneath the Eiffel tower, walking for hours along Christmas markets, morning croissants, and gazing awestruck at the cavernous ceilings of the Notre Dame. Others are not quite as nice. Sleeping in shanty hostels with paper-thin walls and overtones of cigarettes and mold, viewing Versailles though an impenetrable blanket of rain and fog, oh yeah and getting cornered and screamed at by the metro police because they were certain I jumped the barriers (I did not, for the record).

With these memories, so profoundly great in their goodness and badness, I sometimes forget to note the smaller details of Paris, the nuances of its food, architecture and people that make it the amazingly beautiful and almost dreamlike city that it is. One of these small details of Paris are crepes. With a creperie booth in nearly every street corner, they appeared as commonplace as a hotdog cart in any US city. Yet, as it was Paris, the crepes seemed to transcend commonplace. I’m sure that there were most likely much better crepes in nice cafes and restaurants. I’m sure that the street versions were probably mediocre in the realm of all things crepe. Yet I happened to overlook the fact that the guy making looked bored out of his mind, cold, and tired of fulfilling tourist’s desires for this “authentic Parisian cuisine” and I instead enjoyed these crepes as if I were experiencing some rare and valued cultural treat.

I was in awe of the expansive cast iron crepe griddles and the way that the maker swirled the batter paper thin with a dowel rod. I was salivating in anticipation as he smeared heaping spoonfuls of Nutella and cut slices of over ripened banana overtop. He folded the crepe in half, then again and again and plopped this warm, oozing chocolaty cone of crepe into my hand, but not before swiftly taking his 4-euro payment, of course. The crepe was squishy and spongy and becoming nicely soggy every minute as the Nutella seeped into its pores. It warmed me to the core as the cold wind blowing across the Seine cut through all 5 layers of my clothing. The last bite, that little corner at the bottom of the cone was a molten pool of Nutella and sickeningly sweet.

In the two years that have passed since my Parisian crepe experience, I have not attempted any sort of European pancake at home. My general lack of the obligatory 14-inch diameter crepe pan may be to blame as well as a sense that I could never achieve the same sort of perfection, the soft sparingly texture and unearthly thinness.  Yet in the last few months, I’ve seen crepes everywhere, especially savory buckwheat versions (more properly called galettes). On television I watched as they were filled with ham and Gruyere, I read about a lovely cream cheese and smoked salmon interior, and ate, with much enthusiasm, a wonderfully curious ensemble of pulled pork, vinegar slaw, and blueberry compote all tucked inside. And then, after finally purchasing a bag of buckwheat flour, I made my own crepes with much success.

The recipe is from Alice Waters and is just about perfect. It has an unexpected addition of beer, which accentuates the lightless of the finished crepe. And even using a very old nonstick pan that has nearly reached the end of it nonstick capabilities, I was able to lift them straight off the pan with my fingers without a glitch. They are certainly savory themselves but lend well to both savory and sweet fillings. For dinner, I filled them with small cubes of maple roasted sweet potato and sharp cheddar cheese, rolled them into cylinders, popped them into the oven to let the cheese melt, and topped them with toasted walnuts and a drizzle of real maple syrup. The sweetness of the potatoes and the syrup contrasted the slight bitterness of the buckwheat and the salty cheesiness. They were comforting and filling. I had plenty of plain crepes leftover too and enjoyed them for breakfast, heated briefly in the microwave and smeared with cream cheese and pumpkin butter (jam would be great too). It may not have been quite like paris but hey, at least I got to eat these in the warm comfort of my home. That must be a plus, right? 

Buckwheat Crepes (and filling)
Makes about 10-12 medium sized crepes with filling recipe from The Bojon Gourmet via Alice Waters

A quick note that the batter, like all crepe batter, NEEDS to rest in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours after mixing. This allows the gluten to relax which make for the optimum thin, chewy, and pliable crepe. Also, the crepes, once cooked, keep well in the refrigerator if they are folded into quarters and placed in a covered dish. You could also assemble the entire dish the day before and reheat in the morning for a quick and easy brunch.

Ingredients
For crepes
1 cup milk, divided
½ stick (4 Tbs) unsalted butter, melted
½ tsp salt
½ tsp sugar
¼ cup plus 2 Tbs buckwheat flour
¼ cup plus 2 Tbs all-purpose flour
¼ cup plus 2 Tbs spelt flour
2 eggs
1½ tsp vegetable oil
½ cup beer (lager would be best but I only had wheat beer around and used that…it worked just fine)

For filling
3 sweet potatoes, cut into ½ inch cubes
1 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs pure maple syrup (plus extra for drizzling)
salt and pepper
6 oz shredded cheddar cheese
toasted walnuts

Combine ½ cup of the milk with the melted butter, salt, sugar, the three flours, eggs, oil, and beer in a blender. Blend on high until very smooth. Pour the batter into a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and place in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours (can sit overnight too).

Once the batter is rested, remove from the refrigerator and stir in the remaining ½ cup of milk. Heat a medium (8” to 10”) nonstick skillet over medium heat. While it’s heating, pour some vegetable oil into a bowl and get a pastry brush. Once the pan is evenly heated, brush a small amount of oil onto the pan. While holding the pan in one hand, pour ¼ cup of batter into the center and immediately start swirling the batter around the pan until it coats the entire surface. If there is extra, pour the remaining back into the bowl of batter. If it doesn’t spread around the pan easily, add a little more milk to the batter.

Place the pan back onto the heat and let the crepe cook for about 30 to 45 seconds. Once the top surface looks a little dry, its ready to flip. Use a spatula to loosen an edge and quickly use your fingers to flip the crepe to the other side. Let it cook on the other side for just another 30 seconds. When it is done, fold the crepe into quarters and place on a large plate and cover with a large pot lid to keep warm and soft. Continue the process, brushing the pan with a little oil for each crepe, until the batter is used up.

For the filling, preheat the oven to 425. Toss the sweet potatoes with the oil, maple syrup, and salt and pepper and spread out on a baking sheet. Bake for 20-25 minutes until tender. To assemble the crepe, place a spoonful of the sweet potatoes in a line across the center of the crepe and sprinkle with some of the cheddar and some toasted walnuts. Roll into a log shape and place in a casserole dish. Once all assembled in the casserole, you can sprinkle with any remaining cheese overtop and place in a 350 degree oven for about 5 minutes to let the cheese melt. Remove from the oven and serve the crepes with a drizzle of syrup and a nice salad

Happy Fall and Pumpkin Bread

Just in case the social media world hasn’t proclaimed this to you yet, today is the first day of fall and every wonderful and glorious thing that associates itself with this season is about emerge once again. And also, in case you have secluded yourself to a non-mediated hidey hole for the last three weeks, the season of pumpkin-flavored things has arrived fashionably early. No surprises there.

Now, as cliché as I may seem in posting a right-on-time recipe for pumpkin bread, a classic fall favorite, I am not ashamed. The truth is, on a scale of one to ten, my obsession for the flavor of that sweet and earthy fall pumpkin is an eleven. And as much as I would like to write many more paragraphs on the wonders of the flavor of pure fresh pumpkin, I think that between previous posts on this blog, thousands of boards on pinterest, and the rest of the world wide web, there is quite enough of that. For now, I will keep my pumpkin affections to myself. So call me hipster, call me a product of mediated consumerism, call me whatever you’d like, but don’t disclaim my judgment of taste because if you had a slice of this light yet oh-so-moist pumpkin bread, you’d be over here swooning right along with me.

So without further ado I invite you to make this bread. It is subtly spiced, touched with whole wheat, lightly kissed by maple syrup, and all topped off with a walnut crust. Though its superiority may get lost amongst other wild and outrageous pumpkin-y things, lattes, cake pops, oatmeal, and such, its okay. Everyone else can have all of that. I’m really just here for the pumpkin.

Pumpkin bread
adapted from Simply Recipes
makes one loaf

A few notes on the recipe:

I used a partial amount of spelt. If you don’t have it, use whole wheat instead. Or just make everything all-purpose if that’s all you have. I also used mostly coconut oil with a bit of olive oil. The same rule applies here; if you only have canola or vegetable oil, just substitute with that. Just make sure that your total oil amount is ½ cup. If your spice cabinet is unfortunately bare except for the poor lonely container of pumpkin pie spice collecting dust in the corner, feel free to replace all the spices in the recipe with just a teaspoon of this. And finally, use whatever nut you would like for the top. I’d imagine pecans would be lovely. Experiment with add-ins too. Maybe golden raisins…or dark chocolate chunks.

Ingredients
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup spelt flour
1/3 cup sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp nutmeg (freshly grated is best)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/8 tsp ground clove
1 cup canned pumpkin puree
1/3 cup real maple syrup
1/4 cup plus 2 Tbs coconut oil, heated until liquid
2 Tbs olive oil
2 eggs
2 Tbs water
1/2 cup finely chopped walnuts
1 Tbs brown sugar, for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and prepare a 9x5x3 loaf pan by greasing the inside well with butter or oil.

In one large bowl, sift together the flours, sugar, baking soda, salt, and all of the spices. In another large bowl, add the pumpkin, maple syrup, oils, eggs, and water and whisk to combine until smooth. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and use a spatula to fold them together until just combined.

Pour the batter into the loaf pan. Sprinkle the walnuts and the brown sugar overtop. Use your hand to lightly press the walnuts halfway into the batter. Bake for 50 minutes or until nicely browed and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 5 minutes and then invert onto a rack to finish cooling completely.

Pome and Circumstance

As circumstance has it, I don’t really cook too much anymore. With a nighttime restaurant job, my college self’s pastime of making overly elaborate meals for nearly every meal is essentially gone. On the bright side, things are a good deal cheaper with a steady diet of yogurt and toast but unfortunately much less inventive.

However the current circumstance and the changes this has brought to my lifestyle has created a change in palate. I used to gravitate toward long lists of ingredients and the challenges that they offered. I’ve now had to make peace with the fact that I can’t quite take on those challenges every day anymore. But it’s been an easy transition. Perhaps my constant proximity to food, and very beautiful and luxurious at that, satiates the need for it. I now need, seek, and crave things that are simple, quick, and filling. Whether I’m eating lunch before work or scouring the fridge after a long night, all I want is a meal that is starchy, crunchy, juicy, and salty all that the same time. In short, bread, cheese, and pome fruits.

Something about the combination of salty fatty cheese (cheddar and goat are my current preference) with chewy and filling bread all offset by a palate cleansing and thirst-quenching bite of an apple or pear really seems to be all I need right now. Even when I’m having it for the fifth day in a row, I still drive home maybe a little too fast in my anticipation for my nightly cheese on toast.

Fortunately for me the fall season is fast approaching and my pome fruit addiction is about to become tastier with the soon-to-come abundance of these gems. A fresh picked apple or pear in incomparable in every aspect imaginable. Apples, in their weight, seem halved and their flesh denser and drier. The skin is thick and floral and they take twice as long to eat as a regular apple, though whether this is from their savored tastiness or substantiality, I do not know. Yet they still have just the right amount of juiciness that they spray a fine mist of sticky nectar with that first crisp bite. With fresh-picked pears, they are heavy in their syrupy juice so that it relentlessly drips down the chin. The texture is minimally gritty and rather thick and creamy like butter. Pure and simple, fresh and raw - that is the way I best like my pome fruits.

To change up the pace with the starch aspect of my new typical meal I made these cheesy savory scones. The recipe is by Nigel Slater from his book Ripe. He suggests them as a perfect accompaniment to a raw pear. He is quite correct with that note as he is on most things fruit and vegetable related. The book in its entirety is exquisite and a must have for anyone fascinated by nature’s sweetest produce and both the sweet and savory applications for them. The recipe, too, is quintessentially British as a savory take on the teatime classic and a base for some of the country’s finest cheeses. They are light and airy as a biscuit yet a little more moist and wet from the melting cheese dispersed throughout. The touch of spelt flour and hazelnuts adds a deep nuttiness and slight sweetness to counterbalance the salty cheese. Eaten warm with a smear of butter, a clean arugula salad, and, of course, a fresh juicy pear, it is a lunch I’d be glad to return to as my circumstances require.

Goat Cheese and Thyme Scones (with pears)
recipe adapted from Nigel Slater’s Ripe
makes 4 scones

Ingredients
1 cup all purpose flour
¾ cup spelt or whole wheat flour
1 Tbs baking powder
3 Tbs cold butter cut into small cubes
3½ oz shredded sharp cheddar cheese
2 oz goat cheese
1 tsp. chopped thyme
¼ cup hazelnuts, toasted and coarsely ground
½ cup buttermilk
salt and pepper
pears, for serving

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. In a mixing bowl sift together the flours and the baking powder. Scatter the butter cubes over the flour and use your fingers to rub it into the flour until evenly distributed. Alternately, you could do this step in a food processor and transfer to a mixing bowl after. Add the goat and cheddar cheese, the thyme, the ground hazelnuts, and a pinch of salt and pepper to the flour and butter mixture and give a small stir to combine.

Pour the buttermilk over the flour mixture and use a fork to quickly bring the ingredients together into a firm ball of dough. If it looks a little too dry add a little more buttermilk. Dump onto a floured surface and shape into a round disk about 6 inches in diameter. Transfer to a lightly floured or parchment lined baking sheet. Using a knife, score a deep cross into the dough (making sure you don’t go all the way through to the baking sheet) so that you have 4 wedges. Sprinkle a little more cheese and thyme overtop.

Bake for 35 to 40 minutes until puffed and golden brown. Let cool for about 10 minutes before eating with a lovely autumn pear.

Pretzel Buns

Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure that people associate soft pretzels with hot summer days at the baseball stadium, sharing the twisted mass of ballpark mustard slathered dough with their dads as they eagerly await a fly ball heading their direction. For me, soft pretzels bring back memories of my childhood. Granted, they are not associated with American sports and good ol’ times but they’re not necessarily bad either. As non-idyllic as it may seem, soft pretzels remind me of a dingy and run-down mall and of a time where simple pleasures were all that mattered.

I now refer to this place as “the old mall” and I haven’t a clue what it is really called. I do know that I haven’t been there in probably ten years. It had an old Regal Theatre in the basement level with a massive burgundy carpet and golden handrail lined stairway descending down to the atrium. It also had an enormous Pick ‘n’ Mix where I always scooped out my own bugling bag of nonpareils. The mall also had a Stride Ride shoe store, the destination of my yearly back-to-school footwear trip. Now, I know that most children aren’t thrilled about shopping but I was especially difficult. I still hate shopping and the thought of hanging around a dirty-carpeted store in my bare feet while sales associates constantly inform me that “the style does not come in your size but here are seven other similar pairs for you to try on just in case you like them” does not carry too much appeal. So, as you can imagine, my shoe shopping adventures generally ended in bad moods and sometimes no shoes at all. My one incentive for good behavior was the guaranteed after trip to the Auntie Anne’s pretzel stand for salty soft pretzel sticks, complete with processed cheese food dipping sauce on the side.

Like all guilty pleasure food, mall pretzels seem to have a salivation-inducing smell. It vaguely resembles melted butter with a slight hint of cinnamon sugar but of course mixed with that unique pretzely aroma. Even when I happen to catch a view of the salt-speckled logs, permanently glued to one another in their humid heat lamp habitat, and that tub of neon yellow “cheese” sauce, my nose seems to deceive my eyes into thinking that they are most definitely the right choice. And sure, I’ll have a large lemonade to go with that just in case the pretzel didn’t make me feel sick enough already. This is all pretty sad coming from someone who is about 90% German. However, considering that the German traditions in my life are limited to sauerkraut at Thanksgiving and hiding a pickle ornament in the Christmas tree should let you know that I’m not the good German girl whipping up homemade pretzels in my home kitchen. Well, until now at least.

With Oktoberfest slowly creeping up over the holiday horizons (German beer! Yay!) and a brief mention by a coworker about a craving for soft pretzels and mustard, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take advantage of my day off with some good, relaxing bread baking. And when my search for pretzel recipes led to this one for pretzel hotdog buns, the idea for brat dogs topped with kraut and brown mustard came about oh so naturally. And it actually happens to be a nice transitional recipe between summer and early fall. It’s a little comforting from the chewy and hearty pretzels with a summery smokiness from the grilled sausages and a refreshing pickled cabbage tang.

The greatest part is, these buns are a cinch to make. The dough is nice and pliable and a rising time is minimal. Sure the part where you have to boil the reshaped buns in a vat of baking soda water is a little daunting but also fun in a Bill Nye sort of way. Intimidation aside, however, DO NOT skip this step. The baking soda bath (traditionally a lye bath) is the absolute key to the quintessential pretzel taste and the deep brown chewy crust. I sprinkled the uncooked buns with a generous pinch of fleur de sel and popped them into the oven for a mere 14 minutes. The buns are heaven still hot and steaming but give them about ten minutes to allow the crust to firm up a little. And if you make these ahead of time, they keep quite well and only need a gentle warming before serving. I ate mine hotdog style but these pretzels are in no way limited to that. Shape them into thinner logs (reminiscent of the mall pretzel sticks) and serve them with a beer cheese fondue alongside slivers of seared kielbasa. Keep them round and use as fancy hamburger buns. And, if you are feeling traditional, twist them into their standard shape and eat plain or sprinkled with cinnamon sugar or butter, parmesan, and garlic for a savory Italian flair.

Now that I’m reuniting with my German heritage and all of its pretzel glory, I guess it’s time to say auf wiedersehen to those sad yet fondly remembered mall pretzels. Though on second thought, maybe I can make an exception for bad shoe shopping days. Gotta give in sometimes.

Pretzel Buns
recipe by Jeff Mauro for Food Network
Makes 8 buns

Ingredients
1 cup milk
¼ cup brown sugar
2 Tbs. honey
1 packet of active dry yeast
2 Tbs. unsalted butter, melted
3 cups all-purpose flour (you could replace 1 cup with whole wheat if you prefer)
1 cup bread flour
pinch sea salt
½ cup baking soda
pretzel salt or fleur de sel, for sprinkling

for the brat dogs
8 brats
sauerkraut
german mustard
havarti cheese (optional)

In a saucepan, heat the milk, ½ cup of water, the brown sugar, and the honey until it reaches 105 degrees and the sugar is fully dissolved. Remove from the heat and pour into the bowl of a stand mixer or a large mixing bowl. Pour the packet of yeast overtop and set aside for five minute to allow the yeast to bloom.

Meanwhile sift together the flours and the pinch of salt. When the yeast liquid is bubbly, pour over the flour mixture and then the melted butter. Combine in your stand mixer using the dough hook or alternately stir with a wooden spoon until combined and continue kneading by hand. Knead until the dough until it is smooth and elastic, about 7 minutes.

On a well-floured surface, cut the dough into 8 equal pieces. Roll them into balls and place them on a greased baking sheet. Cover with a clean dishtowel and let rise in a warm place for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, roll each ball into a 6 or 7-inch log and return to the baking sheet. Cover again with the towel and let rise for 30 more minutes.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. When the dough is almost ready, bring a large pot with 8 cups of water to a boil. Add in the baking soda and stir. Transfer the logs of dough to the water, 2 at a time, and let boil for 30 seconds on each side. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the dough to the baking sheet. Sprinkle with the salt and use a pair of scissors or a knife to cut 3 shallow diagonal slits into the top. Repeat with the remaining pieces of dough. Bake for 13 to 15 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until dark golden. Let cool on a rack for at least 10 minutes before serving.

For the brat dogs, cut a slit along the top of the bun halfway down. Place a grilled bratwurst inside and, if you so desire, cover with a piece of havarti cheese and place under the broiler for a few seconds to melt. Top with as much sauerkraut and mustard as you desire and serve with a nice big mug of German beer.

Corn for the Gold

It’s amazing to consider the epic change that occurs amongst the world’s inhabitants every two years. Suddenly people like me, who don’t outwardly show much pride in their country on a normal daily basis, are standing in front of their television, pumping their fists, and shouting Go! Go! GO! USA! USA! Suddenly I don’t mind watching sports in the least bit; I actually enjoy it and take the time to really appreciate and admire the skills and extraordinary physical fitness of the athletes, our real-life action superheroes. And suddenly, fun stories like these arrive on the Internet.

I’ve been slightly bitter about the Olympics this time around, however. The incessant and ever-constant images of London, my second home, on the TV screen bring out this intense yearning that pulls at my very heartstrings. I’m unnecessarily jealous of all of the American tourists that are there while I am not. Though I know it is currently a very different London right now than I probably remember, I’d do anything to be there all the same. Yet despite my affections for the host country, I am still automatically rooting hard-core for the American athletes and getting slightly emotional whenever they play our national anthem at a medals ceremony. What can I say; the Olympics bring out different sides of people.

For example, they make me want to do things like work out more (though I think that applies to everyone) or take up hobbies like archery or skeet shooting. Also, counterproductive to the previously mentioned urges, they really make me want American food, as if summer didn’t already create that craving. So to embrace these few weeks of hyper-Americanism, I am cooking and eating in the fashion of the US of A. It’s BLT’s for lunch, burgers for dinner, and a craving for all things barbeque. And of course you can’t have American cuisine with out the summer favorite, those golden ears of milky and juicy sweet corn.

Just last week I had grilled corn for the first time ever. I placed the ear or corn on my plate, not thinking twice about the blistered and blackened kernels, freckling the cob with a gap-toothed grin. The remaining kernels, on second thought, looked different too. Were they deeper yellow than I remembered, a glistening golden hue almost shimmering like the light of sunset?  One bite was enough to inform me that this corn was on a totally different playing field than its boiled or steamed alternative. Grilling corn somehow intensifies the flavor by a tenfold. It’s sweeter, but not overwhelming; it’s a sophisticated sweet. It’s like caramel that has been cooked to the point right before it begins to burn where it becomes concentrated and smoky. The individual kernels swell with steam and boiling juices so that this caramelized liquid bursts the moment it hits the impact of the teeth. I unashamedly sucked the juices from the empty cobs to savor every bit of the new and mind-blowing flavor. From now on, it’s so long to boiled corn. Grilling is my method of choice now.

Its amazing how roasting and grilling, that high heat and that little bit of fire and smoke, can turn what may be a perfectly delicious vegetable or fruit into something that just simply goes above and beyond. It creates the Olympic athletes of food, with flavor that, like the athlete’s skills, seem almost beyond possibility. And it may just me my own opinion, but I think that grilled corn gets the gold every time.

Grilled Corn (and an optional salad preparation)
Ingredients
3 ears of corn with husks attached

for roasted corn and goat cheese salad
(serves two)
corn cut from the 3 ears
2 Tbs. softened butter
salt and pepper
¼-½ tsp of cumin
zest of half a lime
½ cup cherry or pear tomatoes, halved
¼ cup goat cheese
½ cup dry spelt or other grain of choice, cooked according to package instructions
a handful of arugula
juice of half a lime

Soak the corn in water for about 15 minutes. Then after taking them out and shaking them dry, carefully peel back the husk of the corn down to the bottom so that they remain intact and pull off the inner silks. Brush the corn with a little olive oil and pull the husks back up. Place the corn onto a preheated grill with a medium flame. Cook for 15-20 minutes, turning occasionally. While the corn cooks combine the butter, salt, pepper, desired amount of cumin, and lime zest in a bowl and mash into a paste.

Once the corn is cooked, remove from the grill and place onto a platter. Carefully peel back the husks and brush the butter mixture onto the hot corn. You can also place the naked corn back onto the grill for a few more minutes if you want more caramelization. Remove the husks completely and then cut off the kernels of the corn into a bowl. Add the tomatoes, goat cheese, grains, arugula, and lime juice to the bowl and toss to combine. Add any additional salt and pepper to taste.