America the Beautiful & Bountiful

It's started to get to me when people print in recipes for baked substitutions that "it tastes just like fried." Well, maybe it does and maybe it doesn't. Most often, it's the latter. Not only do I avoid deep frying for the health benefits, I also am always concerned (with meat in particular) that the final result will either be a bacteria-laden, undercooked mess or that it will be throat-cloggingly dry. I've only had success with this rather tedious method of cooking once. It was making vegetable tempura and "shrimp-flavored" puffs with my grandmother at least 5 years ago. My great uncle is an absolute pro at it; he can execute anything from tonkatsu (flattened, breadcrumbed pork) to mushroom tempura with perfection. Personally, I’d rather leave the indulgent foods for when he visits (and cooks for) my family.

In general, I try to steer clear of the imitations for fear of their deception.  Sometimes, though, when I’m sick of cooking a particular ingredient in a manner that is thoroughly exhausted, I’ll let go of my tendencies. I’ll find a dish that I know I like and look for a recipe that suits me, meaning no excessive fat, sugar or salt. {I know I’m difficult.} When our friends came over and said they’d be bringing 2 medium eggplants with them because they had received five (you’re not reading that wrong) between their two (you’re not reading that wrong, either) produce boxes, I knew I had to come up with something good. Something classic that even my non-eggplant-eating brother wouldn’t mind, because goodness gracious, we needed to eat those eggplants. {I know I’m overzealous.}

Luckily, I had kept this recipe in my to-cook list. I was quite dubious of it: it’s a taste-alike and terribly simple. Could this recipe really yield an eggplant parmesan comparable to its batter-and-boiling-oil-dipped parent? The answer is yes. I’m even saying that it tastes better than its greasy progenitor. But you’ll just have to try it out for yourself.

Baked Eggplant Parmesan

adapted from http://delectabledarlings.com/2013/05/20/baked-eggplant-parmesan/
I'd say it's perfectly balanced with saltiness, crunchiness, softness and acidity. Just don't scrimp on the baking time: the eggplant must be completely done in the center to pull off the dish. 

Ingredients:

• 1 medium eggplant
• 1 egg
• 1 cup bread crumbs
• 1 cup marinara sauce, or however much you need to cover the bottom of the pan
• 1 medium tomato, cored and diced
• 3 ounces cheddar cheese, grated
• 1 ounce Parmesan cheese, grated
• 1/4 cup mozzarella cheese, grated, optional

Instructions:

1) Crack the egg into a flat bowl or pan and beat. Pour the breadcrumbs into a similar dish. Slice the eggplant into 8-12 slices. Dredge each piece in egg before coating in breadcrumbs and placing on a greased baking sheet. Cook for 10 minutes on each side in a 400-degree oven. 

2) Pour tomato sauce across the bottom of the pan, shaking gently to cover evenly. Arrange eggplant in a layer. Place sliced tomatoes on top of the eggplant. If there’re more slices of eggplant, place those on now. If not, simply sprinkle with half of the cheese in an even crust. Reduce oven to 35o and bake for 20 minutes before adding the cheese. At this point check on the eggplant with a fork and judge further cooking time (the total could be anywhere from 30-45 minutes).

~~~~~~

I really like corn and, not necessarily a logical extension, cornmeal. You may have seen the previous post containing a casserole with a polenta layer or the one with my favorite cornbread {scroll past the chili recipes} in it, which is far more relevant to the next recipe.

One of my friends once made a citrus-scented olive oil cornmeal cake that was so lovely that I have since been obsessed with the idea of cornmeal as a dessert ingredient. When I found this cake and saw that it was mildly healthy, I figured I should go for it. There was no event or occasion, it was just a “let’s celebrate summer and life” kind of cake. Plus, I hadn’t had any good treats in a while.

Since cornmeal can require extra moisture to avoid grittiness, I figured it was a natural progression to make it an applesauce-eque cake. Unfortunately, I was in too much of a hurry and pulled it out before it was completely done. The center was runny (which my brother enjoyed), and I really should have put it back in the oven, but (a) it was terribly tantalizing sitting there on the counter and (b) I didn’t want to dry out the edges. I would recommend covering the pan with foil for the first 20 minutes or so of baking so that it can steam a bit. This may yield a different texture, but then, I am a fan of Asian-style steamed buns and cakes.

Blueberry Peach Cornmeal Cake

adapted from http://abetterhappierstsebastian.com/journal/2013/7/7/peach-cornbread-cake

You can use any stone fruits you’d like as far as I can tell. I added a few berries for color and because they were pretty flavorless on their own.

• 1/2 cup cornmeal
• 1/2 cup white whole wheat flour
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar

• 2 tablespoons butter, melted
• 1 cup milk
• 1/3 cup applesauce
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 2 eggs

• 1 pint blueberries
• 1 ripe peach

Instructions:
1) Thinly slice the peach and arrange in the bottom of a sprayed 9-inch cake pan (I used 8-inch but then had to pour the extra batter into another container to bake because it wouldn't all fit). 

2) Whisk together the dry ingredients in a medium large bowl. Combine wet ingredients in a medium bowl. Add wet to dry, stirring to combine thoroughly but not overmixing. Add blueberries and stir gently. 

3) Pour cake batter over the peaches, filling the pan only to within a half inch of the rim. If there's extra batter, pour into another small pan. Bake in a 350 degree oven for ~40 minutes. It's important to check the doneness all the way down to the bottom as it will be wetter down there due to the peaches. 

P.S. If you've ever wondered why peaches have an almond-shaped kernel in their center if you crack open the pit, here's your answer (it turns out it's not just Mother Nature playing a prank on us). As far as I know, that's actually an almond in there. Here's an abreviated version of the Food Lover's Companion's definition of almond: "There are two main types of almonds--sweet and bitter...The more strongly flavored bitter almonds contain traces of lethal prussic acid when raw. Though the acid's toxicity is destroyed when the nuts are heated, the sale of bitter almonds in illegal in the United States. Processed bitter almonds are used to flavor extracts, liqueurs and orgeat syrup. The kernels of apricot and peach pits have a similar flavor and the same toxic effect (destroyed by heating) as bitter almonds..."

~~~~~~

For the past few days I've been reading through the November 2012 mega-issue of Cooking Light. I rarely have the opportunity to actually read entire articles, instead skimming the pictures, pop-out words and captions in an entirely unfulfilling manner. There are two substancial pieces that stand out from the trendy desserts and healthy cooking techniques. They're quite long in comparison with much of the journalism that we have come to accept in the concise news channels of the Internet, but they're well worth your time; think of them as short stories if you need to.

Mississipi Chinese Lady Goes Home to Korea is a mildly introspective essay from Ann Taylor Pittman, the food editor for Cooking Light magazine. It recounts her culinary and familial adventures when she journeyed to Korea, her mother's homeland. Hearing about all of the communal food resonates with me because of my own mother's Japanese heritage. I'm lucky enough to know many of them and have most of them living here in the United States (far flung as they may be). I visited them in California and was reminded of how comfortable (a term Pittman mentions) we are together, without judgement. Everyone's happy to share their food, inviting the others to experience a bite of their own pleasure. 

This article is a good segway into a peek at my trip to San Francisco last week. I'm only highlighting the food adventures here: we did do other things besides eat, I promise!

Friday - an exciting adventure into what could be called the new Asiatown where authentic restaurants thrive. I ate at Pho Phu Quoc (aka PPQ), my cousin's favorite restaurant. I had never had pho (pronounced fuh) before because our local place is always packed at dinner time. I loved that the basin-sized steaming bowl were brought to the table accompanied with an array of bean sprouts, lime wedges, Thai basil leaves and jalapeños--customizable is my cup of tea. Plus, that's not even talking about the coconut drink. I'm pretty sure it's just Cream of Coconut, tapioca pearls and cubes of steamed taro. And that, folks, is all you need to hear.

Saturday - I baked banana bread for my uncle and cousin at their house for breakfast. Midmorning we explored Petaluma, a relatively small town about an hour outside of San Francisco and sampled cheese and ice cream at Petaluma Creamery. The piña colada ice cream is some of the best I've ever had, and that's coming from a chocoholic. When we arrived at my great aunt and uncle's house we had onigiri (Japanese rice balls), inarizushi (some people say the rice inside the tofu wrapper looks like a football), roasted chicken and burritos from La Azteca, the taquería my cousin Derek visits every time he comes to the West Coast. The evening brought us even more delicacies in the form of the Bon Odori Festival (a Buddhist festival honoring one's ancestors, usually shorted to 'Obon'). The temple we attended the celebration at serves hundreds of styrofoam bowls overflowing with udon noodles and topped with kamaboko (fish cake, the pink-edged pieces), braised beef (already consumed) and fresh scallions. For dessert, the traditional imagawayaki is served. It's two pancakes filled with a dollop of an, sugared red bean paste, and a sprinkling of black sesame seeds embedded in one side. Even if you don't like the idea of a normally savory ingredient--beans--being used in a sweet application, you must try it anyway.

Sunday - after a quick tour of Sonoma city and the Solano Mission contained in its borders, we returned to Auntie and Uncle's house for lunch again with many of the same components of Saturday's spread. For dinner, Auntie served smoked salmon caught a mere six hours before serving by a friend. For the sides she had green beans, tomatoes and beets fresh from the garden as well as her homemade kimchi and a slaw-like cabbage salad. Even after such a filling meal we indulged a little in her delicious minty chocolate cake leftover from the previous day.

Monday - perhaps the day best representative of San Francisco. A morning at the California Academy of Sciences was followed by lunch in the same Asian-dominated district from my first night. Our first choice of Korean barbecue was closed, so we headed up the street a block to Hahn's Hibachi. One item in particular on their menu stood out: the Pile O' Beef, which Derek ordered and consumed with gusto. We also ordered a chewy clear-noodle salad to share. The only thing I wouldn't recommend is the "tempura", which is a completely different style from the Japanese. Basically, you just have to order some sort of meat, whether chicken or beef and it will come with the appropriate seasonings and a delicious side of bean sprout salad. We wandered a ways into the now-touristy Chinatown and eventually came to what many people consider to be the best Dim Sum restaurant in the city. I have no reason to dispute this claim. We ate egg custards still scorching from the oven, balancing the wobbling center on the flaky crust while we stood out on the gusty sidewalk. A while later we ended up at the Ferry Building, a classy farm-to-table-centered indoor market containing stalls selling everything from scented olive oil to artisan cheese and charcuterie. There was more than one Whole Foods-esque mini store selling colorful ribbon pasta and off-the-beaten-track pressed juices. From there we walked 39 piers down to Ghirardelli Square. That day they were sampling milk chocolate with caramel, which was a bit too sweet for my palate, but still too much to resist. The evening ended at Fisherman's Wharf where we ate at one of the many seafood-devoted restaurants fronted by small street-side shacks. I would not recommend Nick's Lighthouse for anything but the crab chowder, a brown-sauce-based variety, as everything else was dumbed down for the tourist industry.

Tuesday - Point Reyes looks like how I image the moors of Scotland. It probably is nothing like them, but since I've only ever read about them in Laura Ingalls Wilder's ancestors' books...anyway, the day started out with fresh citrus from Auntie's garden and then moved on to more onigiri and kimchi for lunch. We hiked out 3 miles or so on the trail to the tip of Point Reyes, seeing two herds of elk in the process. For dinner, Derek cooked us some lovely Wagyu (American Kobe) burgers that was given to my Uncle Marcus by a friend of his, a small beef farmer. I'm not a big meat person, as you might have figured out, but this particular beef had such a rich flavor that it was hard not to be intrigued. Of course all of this was complimented by more fresh produce, including a bright heirloom tomato salsa made by Auntie.

Wednesday - an early morning headed to work with Uncle so that I could be dropped off back in Tiburon. Before I left their house, I had one last glass of Auntie's fresh-squeezed blackberry lemonade, made almost entirely from ingredients in her garden. I also took half of the loaf of bread that Uncle and I had made in the bread machine the night before. It was a dense oatmeal loaf with a hint of molasses and definitely my kind of bread. For the trip down to Monterey Bay with Uncle Marcus and his son, I packed egg salad/pesto and hummus/pesto sandwiches (using Uncle's bread). Once we arrived, we tasted four varieties of clam chowder on Fisherman's Wharf (a second one) that afternoon. Each of the seafood restaurants was very similar, so they tried to lure people in with their samples. There were also two crepe places, one of which was closed, so we had some from the other. They were quite good, though it was clear that the shop was much more accustomed to serving sweet crepes to savory because the batter was slightly sugared even though we ordered tomato/avocado/spinach and turkey/egg/cheese. From there we went on a 3-hour whale watching tour with Monterey Bay Whale Watching, a scientifically crewed boat. After sighting between 8 and 10 blue whales and at least half a dozen humpback whales, we headed to Ambrosia, a fairly highly rated (on Yelp) Indian restaurant nearby. Overall it was quite good, especially a fish curry we ordered. I loved that we were expected to eat family style and thus served a trough of rice alongside small cauldrons of each of the three dishes we ordered. 

Thursday - breakfast at the Embassy Suites is usually a treat, but this time it was overly crowded and not entirely enjoyable. We headed to Monterey Bay Aquarium and toured the exhibits until lunch time. Despite the long lines in the cafeteria, everything moved fairly quickly as they had many staff members positioned around the room with walkie talkies directing the flow. The lunch was quite good with a complete salad bar and a few interesting choices on the hot menu, including a "cobbler" that was remarkably like chicken pot pie with a crumb topping. That evening was one of the highlights of my trip. We drove home as quickly as we legally could to get to the Upper Haight neighborhood for an Off the Grid event. It was 13 food trucks and I was ecstatic. Maybe you don't know this about me, but I'm kind of a street food junkie. I eat at this type of vendor every opportunity I get. Especially if the trucks are as diverse as they were that night. For those of you in the Bay Area or looking to go there, these trucks were phenomenal. I tried Señor Sisig (Filipino), An the Go (garlic noodles),  Curry Up Now (Indian), Sanguchon (Peruvian) and Whip Out (BBQ), which may sound like a lot of dishes, but all six of us shared around to get a bite of everything. The veggie curry burritos from both Curry Up Now and Sanguchon were very different from what you're probably used to. The Peruvian-style curry in particular was a whole new flavor profile compared with traditional Indian fare. If you eat meat (even just once in a while), you must, must, must get the nachos from Señor Sisig. They are fully loaded and capable of feeding a large army, endowed with spices and layers of flavor that we just don't seem to get in our everyday diet. Noodle fanatics be warned: you may end up eating the entire carbo-load of An the Go garlic noodles if you're not careful. They're very simple, served only with a little broccoli and carrots on top, but the dry seasoning imparting the flavor on the pasta is more than enough to satisfy. Whip Out was Derek and my younger cousin's favorite, as they really enjoyed the brisket sliders. {Besides those there were Onigilly (sushi), Cheese Gone Wild (grilled cheese), Hapa (modern Filipino), The Chairman Truck (Chinese), Sajj (felafel/shawarma), Phat Thai (Thai), The Rib Whip (Midwest BBQ) and Cupkates (cupcakes).} Though it was already 9:15 or so, we walked around the neighborhood so that I could see where the hippie movement was born. I think it's changed quite a bit, but the streets are still lined with vintage boutiques, thrift stores, record shops and booksellers. Somehow, we ended up at Ben & Jerry's. Let me just intercede here and let you know that I was stuffed to the gills. I had bought my own burrito from Sanguchon before I realized that I was expected to finish everyone else's dinners. Luckily I understood this before I had gotten more than 3 bites into my burrito, but still, after doused sweet potato fries and beefy nachos and spicy chickpeas and buttery noodles and brisket fringes, I was near to bursting. But one does not simply pass on B&J's. Especially if one is standing in front of the B&J's scoop shop at the corner of Haight and Ashbury. And I'll just say that I could probably fit a kid-sized scoop of Passion Fruit Pineapple sorbet in after any meal.

Friday - not much time left in San Francisco at this point. By the time that everyone was up in the house (all three of us, that is) and in the car, it was 11:30 and we only had an hour and a half before I needed to get to the airport. So where did we go? Trader Joe's. We had to pick up some 21 Seasoning Salute (my younger cousin's favorite condiment), some Maple Leaf Cookies and some Raisin Rosemary Crisps (which proceded to not fit in my luggage). From there we stopped by the nearby Boudin to buy a loaf of sourdough to bring back to my dad, who had expressly requested it. When we finally got up to the front of the line (it was approximately lunch time and Boudin serves sandwiches and soups), I saw sourdough baby turtles. I couldn't refuse. 

Overall, I had an amazing time and I don't feel like I wasted one second of the trip, which is extremely important to me. I'm glad I had the opportunity to see my family and try so much great food. I hope it won't take me five years to get back out there again!

~~~~~~

Now I'll share the second article. Welcome to the Golden Age of American Food by Scott Mowbray delves into the foodie era that we have entered as we move away from the nutrient-depleted factory products of the late 20th century and into the slow-food movement of the 2000s. You may think that this is over-generalized, that many Americans live in food desserts, lacking basic sustenance, but Mowbray paints a convincingly bright picture of the heyday that we are coming to embrace. 

West Indian Melting Pot

Here I am, behind again. These are a few more of the recipes that I made while I was in St. John. Not much dialogue, but delicious all the same. (I'll try to add pictures later; I'm on another trip with no access to these photos right now!)

This was a hodge-podge stir-fry. We had an eggplant and a plantain* going bad. We had a jar of farm-canned tomatoes hand-imported from California. We didn't have much meat or protein in the house, so we used a can of beans. It actually tasted better the second day, after the flavors had a chance to marinade together.

(*For those of you who haven't heard of plantains, they're large, starchy cooking bananas native to southern Asia and West Africa but now prevalent across the tropics. They're ready to eat once they've turned dark brown on the outside. Do not try to eat them like you would a regular banana.)

Bean, Eggplant, Tomato and Plantain Saute

adapted from http://www.wholefoodsmarket.com/recipe/black-eyed-peas-and-tomatoes-sauteed-bananas

Serves 6. 

Ingredients:

• 1 teaspoon oil
• 1 onion, diced
• 2 stalks celery, sliced 
• 1 eggplant, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1 22-ounce jar stewed, whole tomatoes (the ones I used were yellow, but red would be fine)
• 1/2 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
• 2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
• 1 14-ounce can black beans, rinsed and drained
• 1 very ripe plantain (skin should be black)

Instructions:

1) Heat the oil in a large, high-sided skillet (a soup pot will do fine, the most important thing is to have a heavy pan). Sauté the onions and celery until slightly translucent.

2) Add the eggplant. Pour the liquid from the tomatoes into the pan, setting the tomatoes themselves aside. Cover and steam for 10 minutes until the eggplant is mostly tender. 

3) Run a knife several times through the jar of tomatoes to make smaller pieces. Slice the plantains and then quarter each slice so that you have small chunks. Add to the pan once the previous step is complete along with the beans and tomatoes.

4) Cook, covered, on medium-low heat for approximately 10 minutes or until the plantains are easily pierced through and the eggplant is fork tender. 

5) Allow some of the water to evaporate off, but don't cook for more than 5 minutes as everything will begin to lose texture. 

6) Serve with tortillas, avocado and lettuce to garnish. 

~~~~~~

My grandmother was in New Mexico during the first week of our stay at her house. While there, she discovered a flour with the name of Blue Bird. It was introduced to her by a Navajo man who she met at a restaurant. He told her that it was the kind of flour that his grandmother used throughout his childhood and that he used when he was a cook in the army. Before she returned to the USVI, Grammi bought a 20 pound bag of it at an Ace Hardware store and shipped most of it home via UPS, taking some of it with her in her suitcase. The evening she arrived, we looked up a recipe (link below) for authentic Navajo tortillas. They were very simple to make and almost therapeutic to shape.

I'm not sure if you can buy the flour anywhere outside of the Southwest, but it might be interesting to try the recipe with another variety of flour, or, if you have the ability, grind the flour a little finer. Masa might work well because the generic recipe for that variety of tortillas is fairly similar to this one. 

Blue Bird Flour Tortillas

guided by http://dine.sanjuan.k12.ut.us/bichiya/breads/nav_tort.html

Best straight out of the pan. Be careful not to overwork them as they can get tough quickly.

Makes 8 small tortillas.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups Blue Bird flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 2/3 - 3/4 cup water

Instructions:

1) Measure out dry ingredients into a medium bowl. Mix together. Slowly add water, starting with a half cup and mixing by hand if necessary to judge consistency. Don't allow it to get sticky (add more flour if you accidentally pour in too much water). Shape into a ball and place on a large cutting board or the counter (whichever surface you're going to use to roll out the tortillas. Cover with the bowl and allow to rest for 20-30 minutes.

2) Divide into 8 fairly equal pieces. Heat a cast iron, low-sided pan on medium heat. Roll out the first tortilla to desired thickness. (Ours were approximately 1/16 - 1/8 of an inch thick.) Once pan sizzles when hit with a drop of water, place the first tortilla on it. Cook 50 seconds on each side or until golden spots appear. Press firmly with a spatula throughout to make bubbles form for a lighter final product. 

3) Place finished tortillas in between the layers of a folded dish cloth until ready to serve. Really, they're best eaten within 30 seconds of coming off the pan.

~~~~~~

We attended a wedding while in the islands. It was beautiful, and one of the best parts was that we got to see our friends the Samuels. Eight of the ten siblings were there, along with many of their children and grandchildren. The Monday after the wedding they held a family picnic, to which we were invited, at the beach where my parents' wedding reception was. It was a sort-of potluck, and my grandmother and I had different ideas about what to bring. I wanted to bring something that wouldn't go rancid in the heat and that wasn't too starchy.

Moroccan Carrot Salad

inspired by http://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/moroccan_grated_carrot_and_beet_salad/
I've had a creamy version of this before that I really liked. It might have had yogurt in it, which I'd like to try next time. Without the dairy, this dish is great for a potluck in the tropics where there isn't access to a cool breeze, much less refrigeration.

Ingredients:

• 3 cups (less than 1 pound) grated carrots 
• 1/2 cup raisins, scant
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika
• 1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice (I didn't like the tanginess and would replace this with something else next time, though I'm not sure what.)
• 2 teaspoons honey
• 2 tablespoons fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped or torn
• pinch of salt

Instructions:

1) Combine all ingredients in a medium bowl, adjusting and adding spices to taste. (At first I didn't think I would need the honey, but it ended up adding a lot of flavor to carrots whose flavor was waning.)

2) Place in the refrigerator to marinate for as much time as you have, preferably an hour or more.

Island Thyme

I know I haven't been writing at all lately. The beginning of summer is such a busy time--adjusting to fluctuating schedules, adapting to suffocating heat, wrapping my head around no obligations...which is harder than you may think. 

Because of the chaos that accompanies the end of the school year, I also wasn't doing much cooking, which accounts for the blog slump. I'm really hoping to pick back up where I left off with some adventurous recipes and projects. 

Now I'm here in the Virgin Islands at my grandmother's house for two weeks. You'll need a little background info before we get to the cooking part. 

My grandmother has lived in this house for the last 40 years and many of its original appliances are still in place. Two in particular have stood the test of time. They should have a saying that a Kitchen Aid stand mixer never dies. Or at least that's my experience. It's smaller than the monoliths that are marketed to unsuspecting amateur cooks these days. Instead of being painted a bright mustard or some such "modern and chic" color, it's a respectable chrome (only chipping in a few spots). The bowls are much smaller, but every attachment is sturdy and well-manufactured as was the custom. The second piece of equipment that is noteworthy is the source of my greatest reoccurring adventures in life: the gas stove, which must be lit with a lighter. Each time I stand before it shakily,  hoping against hope that it won't blow the house off the mountain in a cinnamon-scented fireball. (Ants are supposedly repelled by the smell of cinnamon, so all of Grammi's cupboards containing food have a thick layer on the floor.)

It's not the easiest place in the world to cook, but, to me, it's the most enjoyable. I have so many memories here. Pizzas in convection ovens, baked patés (a local specialty usually deep fried and stuffed with fish or meat), purple cabbage and ham hash made to look like pulled pork, first-time masa tortillas in distinctly un-circular shapes. 

The pantry is well-stocked with preserved artichoke hearts and asparagus stalks bought from the States. Cans of chicken noodle soup and tomato paste line its cozy shelves. An Igloo cooler packed to the gills with crackers and dry pasta. An upside-down cake carrier containing Walkers shortbread cookies (a rare treat) and trail mix granola bars. Everything is wrapped up tight in reused plastic bags or cartons to keep out hungry tropical critters. Two editions of the Joy of Cooking perch on the bookcase, making it known that she's reigning queen. And she is. How many times have I sat on the floor as Grammi flipped through hundreds of pages in that worn book? It's her dictionary and encyclopedia, all the reference she needs in the kitchen to tackle an unknown ingredient or underperforming preparation. 

Though I've learned many life skills in this house (don't lean on a railing in the tropics, toe-pinching hermit crabs mostly come out at night, bat guano is toxic, etc), one stands out above all and comes directly from the kitchen. Don't be afraid to try things your own way. Even if you make a mistake, most things are recoverable. 

Super Spiced Free-hand Pear Crisp
A healthier interpretation of the classic dessert.

Serves 3-4, depending on whether you have ice cream and how large/hungry the eaters are. 

• Filling
• 1 large pear, we used a firm variety
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves, really just a sprinkle
• 1/4 teaspoon dried lemon peel, I'm sure zest would work
• 2 tablespoons agave nectar

• Topping
• 1/4 cup + 2 heaping tablespoons old fashioned oats
• 1/4 cup whole wheat flour 
• 1 tablespoon butter, cut into small chunks
• 2 tablespoons agave nectar
• 2 tablespoons buttermilk, or liquid of some kind 

• 3 tablespoons juice of choice, we didn't do this but plan to next time because the pears didn't cook all the way probably because of a lack of liquid 

For the filling:

Wash, core and slice the pear into 1/4-inch-thick lengths. Place them in a bowl with the spices, lemon peel and agave. Set aside and allow to marinate while preparing the topping. 

For the topping:

Mix together the flour and oats in a small bowl. Cut in butter, agave and buttermilk, mixing until crumb-like. 

Assemble & bake:

Spread the spiced pears in the bottom of a small baking pan (we used a small rectangular Pyrex). Sprinkle the topping evenly across the pan. Pour juice over. Cover tightly with foil (again, something we didn't do but plan to next time). Bake in preheated oven at 375 degrees. We used a convection oven and it took about 15 minutes to cook, though the pears were still a bit crunchy. Generally these types of dishes call for a 30-45 minute baking time, but because there are no eggs involved, it's purely a matter of taste. If you like it this way, go for a shorter baking time and don't cover with foil. If you're using foil, remove it before the last 5 minutes or so of baking so that it can "crisp up". 

Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream. 

~~~~~~

I feel there is a certain type of food that we eat while here at Grammi's house. It's wholesome, mostly organic and generally healthy while also being vaguely reminiscent of Depression-era or wartime cookery. I hope I don't offend anyone by saying this because, of course, we are not going through anything remotely as challenging as those disastrous periods in our history. What I mean is this. My grandmother has spent her life making ends meet. She has immense experience stretching ingredients in times of actual hardship combined with the know-how of someone who has had to buy food at island prices (i.e. high) for the past 40 years. We eat every part of everything while we're here, whether that's 1 meal of cabbage or 6, having fresh fish or canned. It's all about conservation, and that doesn't just apply to food. Many of my grandmother's practices are derived from a concern for the Earth and its wellbeing that is as much a part of her character as her generosity is. As my uncle (her son) proudly says, she was part of the green movement before it was popular.

We save water by taking navy-style showers and reusing the water in a large pan to wash the dirty dishes (a mechanical dishwasher is too wasteful), which is occasionally dumped over the edge of the porch to water the plants in my grandmother's expansive garden. We can actually see how much water we have left by lifting the trap door on one side of the dining room and looking down at the cistern housing the rain water that we use for everything but drinking. We cut down on our consumption of plastic goods by reusing bags over and over. You may be thinking about Ziplocks and similar resealable bags, but I'm talking about the supposedly one-time-use packaging that nuts or pasta comes in. Once empty, all of them are carefully cleaned (to protect against bugs and rot) and then placed in the freezer. (For those of you who continually ask why my partially-used tin foil is always in the freezer, you finally have your answer.)

So, if you're me, that leads us to why I chose to make gingerbread. But since you're not me, I've left you a little in the dark. I'll just say this. Our food is usually created with alternative ingredients jazzed up by butter and spices. And Grammi loves ginger.

Whole Wheat Gingerbread 

adapted from King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking

So, so good. Moist and earthy, the sometimes bitter whole wheat doesn't do anything to the intense flavor and only adds to the deep, rich color. This is one of my new favorite quick/tea breads, which is saying a lot given my history with banana, zucchini and cranberry cornmeal breads. 

Ingredients:

• 2 1/4 cups whole wheat flour 
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted
• 1/4 cup Greek yogurt 
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1 large egg
• 3/4 cup molasses, black strap is best (and has the strongest flavor)
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1/4 cup crystallized ginger, chopped 

Instructions: 

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2) Combine flour, baking soda, salt and spices in a small bowl, mixing thoroughly. 

3) Mix butter, yogurt, sugar, egg, molasses and buttermilk in a large bowl. 

4) Add dry ingredients to wet. Mix lightly before adding the crystallized ginger. Finish stirring, but don't overbeat as it will become tough. 

5) Place in the preheated oven and bake 40-45 minutes, until toothpick inserted comes out clean. Allow to sit out of the oven for 10 minutes before turning it out onto a rack to cool completely. 

~~~~~~

When I'm on vacation (not necessarily out of my house), I like to make prepared lunches. They don't necessarily have to be hot, but generally I don't like going with something that could be made on a normal day. Often I'll turn to eggs as a protein that's quick to cook but very satisfying. 

I chose to make a quiche, one of my favorite specialties, for lunch one day here on the island. Mainly this is because quiches take a ridiculously long time to bake (in my mind), and we're generally snorkeling right before dinner, so that leaves a 40+ minute cooking time out of the question. Plus we have a lot of eggs in the house right now, and, up until the time that I made this, scallions that were on the edge of decomposition. 

The inclination that put me right over the edge, though, was how I was drawn to the King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking book. I had no sooner shoved the gingerbread in the oven when I was already snatching ingredients out of the cupboard for the quiche. Without having to make the crust, the whole process appeared to be quite streamlined (I'm not advocating for crustless quiches all the time as the crust is by far the best part, however, if you're crunched for time, simply omit it and spray the baking pan instead). Too bad nothing can work out the way that I plan it. Nothing tremendously bad happened, but it just took a bit longer than I anticipated (which worked out pretty well in the end because the gingerbread had vacated the primary oven in Grammi's kitchen by the time the quiche was ready to go in).

Perhaps it was the underlying pressure I always feel while working in Grammi's kitchen that slowed me down. I always have to look around and check that I haven't left any ingredients sitting out on the counter while I'm using something else. This sounds silly, but until you've worked in an un-airconditioned environment within 20 degrees of the equator, you may not fathom how quickly food goes bad. You know that time you forgot the milk out on the counter for an hour while you went out to the grocery store? It was fine when you got back, right? It still had condensate on the outside and was cool to the touch. Literally 10 minutes after I set the milk on the counter the condensate has evaporated and the container feels room temperature. It's still okay to drink as long as you get it back in the fridge, but it's still a little nerve-wracking to have that constant worry that I'll ruin perfectly good food by leaving it out too long. And not just ruin it, but make people sick from it. 

Crustless Spinach and Asparagus Quiche

Adapted from King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking
Fairly traditional besides its lack of crust. Surprisingly creamy, especially given the small number of eggs involved.

Ingredients:

• For Vegetables:
• 1 bunch scallions
• 1 bunch asparagus 
• 2 large handfuls frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
• 1 teaspoon olive oil 

• 1/4 cup (2 ounces) goat cheese, plain or herbed

• For Custard:
• 2 large eggs
• 6 tablespoons (3 ounces) cream cheese
• 1/4 cup half-and-half
• 1 cup milk, I used skim and almond 
• 1/4 teaspoon salt 
• Several grinds of black pepper

Instructions:

1) Clean the scallions of their roots and browning leaves. Chop into medium-large pieces. Snap the asparagus. (It's really important to let them break where they may because nature has designed them in such a way that they will always come apart at the transition from woody base to tender stalk.) Cut the asparagus into inch-long pieces. Heat the olive oil in a small frying pan. Cook scallions for 30 seconds. Add the asparagus and let fry for a minute more. Then add a splash of water and cover, allowing to steam until crisp-tender, depending on your preference, about 5-7 minutes. 

2) Arrange the asparagus, scallions and thawed spinach in the bottom of a greased 9-inch cake pan. Crumble the goat cheese over the vegetables and set it all aside. 

3) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. (I was using a convection oven again.) 

4) Whisk together the eggs, cream cheese, half-and-half, eggs, salt and pepper. It's okay if there are still small lumps of cream cheese left in the mixture. Gently pour the custard over the veggies and cheese. 

5) Place in the preheated oven and bake for 40 minutes until mostly solid when lightly shaken. 

~~~~~~

My dad has long been a fan of Simon & Garfunkle. My mom sung Scarborough Fair to us as a lullaby. All of this has little to do with St. John. Really what it's about is having leftover pork in the fridge, a hankering for dumplings and no limitations on what spices I could include in the soup. I was not confined by food allergies or absolutist pickiness. Marcus's single demand for all of time is no mushrooms and Dad, at every juncture, says "I'll eat what I'm served and I'll like it" (we've only encountered problems when beets were set before him for the first time in 25 years after an incident in his childhood). So, I started soup the way Grammi does with plenty of celery (I wouldn't choose celery to eat by itself, but it does add flavor to soups). I progressed to garlic, which, as you might be able to guess, is one of my family's favorites, and the aforementioned pork. Broth glugged into the pot to follow. And then I had to pause for a second.

I have a notoriously bad reputation (maybe just amongst the three closest members of my family, myself included) of under-seasoning things. Usually soups, if I have to put my finger on it. I mean, what am I afraid of? Savory things really cannot be too flavorful, as far as I can tell. (Spices traditionally in sweet preparations on the other hand....*cough* cinnamon *cough*.) 

I decided then and there that I would not let my family down. Perusing (rapidly) through the alphabetically-organized jars in the fridge door, I immediately spotted thyme. The post contains its name, so I figured I should fit it in there somewhere. Then rosemary, which would only add to its kin in the crust of the herbed pork. Then, in my head*, I started singing Scarborough Fair. How could I not? I had 2 members of the quartet already in the pot. Just go for it, I told myself. Parsley (my blood enemy) and sage followed, in equal proportion to the first two. 

That's it. Now you know how this soup was born. Except for the dumplings. Those were Marcus's doing. I pulled out the newer of the two Joy of Cooking volumes, looked up dumplings and opened to the page that the index indicated. I advised that he substitute one cup of whole wheat flour for one of all-purpose to give them some body and then he was off to the races. They were the best dumplings I've ever had. (I'm talking about little doughball dumplings, here, not the folded, filled and fluted masterpieces common in Eastern cooking. These are more in the neighborhood of pseudo-noodles and gnocchi than anything else. Think of chicken and dumplings, not won ton soup.)

{*Note: For pretty much this entire trip I've had laryngitis. At the stage of my illness while I was making this soup, my voice was disappearing every other word and especially when my tone was elevated. Basically, I couldn't orate or sing to save my life. This was a source of great amusement and frustration amongst the other two members of my family with whom I am vacationing.}

Scarborough Fair Soup with Dumplings 

Soup from my head, dumplings from Joy of Cooking courtesy of Marcus 

I discovered that this is a very thin, broth-y soup. For some reason, I had assumed that the dumplings' starch would thicken it, but it did not. I ended up liking it because it wasn't too heavy yet the dumplings were filling, so perfect for a summer meal. Also, there was very little soup, not really enough to cover the dumplings, so it might be advisable to add another quart of stock with the one in the recipe.

Serves 3 to use up all of the soup (the way I made it). We had extra dumplings at the end, which are delicious the next morning for breakfast. 

• Soup:
• 3 stalks celery with leaves, cleaned
• 3 large carrots, cleaned
• 1 head + 3 cloves garlic 
• 1 1/2 teaspoon olive oil 
• 1 1/2 - 2 cups pork, cooked and chopped into 1-inch chunks
• 1 quart chicken broth, preferably low-sodium
• 1/2 teaspoon dried parsley
• 1/2 teaspoon dried sage
• 1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary 
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• 2 tablespoons dried, crushed tomatoes

• Dumplings:
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• 1 cup while wheat flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup milk, we used almond
• 3 tablespoons butter

Instructions:

1) Finely chop the celery. Cut off ends of carrots. If you're using organic variety, don't bother peeling, otherwise do. Thinly slice into rounds, cutting in half if too large for your taste. Smash and peel all of the garlic. Mince 3 of the cloves and leave the rest whole (my family loves garlic and so prefers this preparation, but the hole head could be removed if the prospective eaters are wary of its odor).

2) Heat oil in a medium soup pot. When hot, toss in the vegetables you've just chopped. Cook until the celery is somewhat translucent and the carrots are slightly soft. Toss in the pork pieces. Saute lightly for 30 seconds. Deglaze the pan with half a cup of stock, making sure to scrape the pan of all that flavorful goodness that gets burned on. Add the rest of the stock. Sprinkle in the spices and tomato flakes. Cover and bring to a boil. 

3) Make dumpling dough: Bring milk and butter to a simmer on low heat. Stir together flours, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. Once the milk is hot and the butter is melted into it, pour the liquid into the dry ingredients. Combine gently with a fork or your hands (if you aren't sensitive to heat). Don't work it too much as it will become tough very quickly. Divide into 18-20 portions. Loosely roll them into balls. Set aside.

4) Once the soup has been boiling for approximately 5 minutes, arrange the dumplings across the surface of the soup. Cover and boil for 10 minutes without peeking. Serve immediately garnished with a slice of cheese on top of each bowl.

~~~~~~

This is not the end of our time here in St. John. I need to get this post out onto the InterWebs so that everyone [hopefully] doesn't lose faith in me completely. Plus, I'm not sure how much time I'll have in the coming week. Ha. You're used to it by now.

A Small Celebration

Sometimes I don't have time to make a whole birthday cake with frosting and decorations. It's when your birthday falls on a Tuesday or Wednesday that this often happens. We're not close enough to the previous weekend that I could have made the cake ahead of time and I can't quite justify putting my homework off til the next weekend yet. Darn.

So I convince myself that your special day is worth me getting up 25 minutes earlier to bake you a very individual gift. It's a gift that will be consumed quickly, and hopefully, won't be repeated, because next year you'll have the common sense to put your birthday on a Monday like normal people do. But, if you are so unfortunate as to have a second birthday in the middle of the week, I think that this particular cake will not be too much of a hardship to endure twice.

Honestly, it's the perfect amount because you can share with your friend or just eat them both without feeling terribly guilty at all--it's your birthday after all, and no one expects you to share.

Spiced Chocolate Cupcakes

adapted from 

Makes 2.

Originally, this recipe was "baked" in the microwave. I, personally, never use this approach, and since, at the time, I didn't have silicone baking cups, I would have exploded the house using metal tins, I decided to bake them until a toothpick inserted yielded a clean tip.

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• 4 ½ teaspoons unsweetened cocoa powder
• ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
• ¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
• ¼ teaspoon ground allspice
• ¼ teaspoon ground ginger
• 4 ½ teaspoons milk
• 1 ½ tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• ½ egg (approximately 2 tablespoons), lightly beaten
• Whipped cream, to frost
• Sprinkles, to decorate

Instructions:

1) Whisk flour, brown sugar and spices in a small bowl. Mix in milk, butter and egg. 

2) Divide evenly between two muffin liners, either in a tin or the silicone variety. Bake in a 375 degree oven for 10 minutes. 

3) Check it and then continue cooking if a toothpick inserted comes out with wet batter.

4) Top with whipped cream and sprinkles, if desired.