Mabel Murple's Purple Maple Syrple

Mabel Murple ordered breakfast

She had purple eggs on toast

And when she ordered dinner

She had purple short rib roast

Mabel Murple cooked a supper

Murple’s super duper purple stew

It was served with purple ketchup

And Mabel’s maple syrple too!

(Mabel Murple’s purple maple syrple!)

  -Sheree Fitch, Mabel Murple

One of our favourite books of late has been Mabel Murple. Whether it is Sheree Fitch’s infectious rhyme, Sydney Smith’s perfectly purple illustrations or the simple fact that they get to shout, ‘UNDERWEAR’ at the end, the girls love it. If we miss reading it one day, it is read twice the next. 

One day, during an early morning reading, the breakfast demands were made. They didn’t just want pancakes, they wanted them with Purple Maple Syrple. So, donning my indulgent mother cap, I leapt out of bed and got on with it.

You can buy this stuff in stores. It usually comes in tiny bottles. Around here they are often tied with Nova Scotia tartan ribbon which, maybe, is supposed to make it okay to pay THAT MUCH for 100mL of syrup. We go through this stuff, and maple syrup generally, by the bucketload. For us, this proves a little more economical despite missing the ribbon. And, you can make it in about as much time as it takes to whip up a batch of pancakes anyway. (I think I can feel the wrath of the value-added maple syrup industry coming down on me now)

This was some time ago, blueberries weren’t quite in season and I was still in the midst of using up the frozen winter’s berry stash. You can easily use fresh, the last of them are still trickling through markets, and I have since. Still perfectly purple.

Mabel Murple’s Purple Maple Syrple inspired by Mabel Murple written by Sheree Fitch

2 cups blueberries (fresh or frozen, washed and de-stemmed, preferably)

2 cups maple syrup

Bring the berries to a boil over low to medium heat. Don’t let them burn. Add the maple syrup and return to a boil.

Strain through a sieve, pressing to extract all the liquid. Or, leave it chunky if you don’t mind the bits.

Serve over pancakes, french toast, waffles, porridge, ice cream, yogurt...

Allow to cool before refrigerating in a clean, dry container.

Roasted Rhubarb - Rhubarb Trilogy 2011 Part I

As I mentioned here, what seems like only a few days ago but in reality is nearly a month, rhubarb and strawberry season was underway on a recent visit to England.

It was on this trip that Poppy re-discovered Eton Mess and labelled it as the best thing in the world. So good, it was, and is still, requested at the faintest whiff of a strawberry.  

After our first Cornish lane experience in a good two years, following signs promising the first fresh strawberries of the year, I was a little shaky. We unbuckled and made our way up the path. I was worried the berries would be sold out or, even worse, Spanish. Poppy was worried the farmer would be in the fields, unable to be found to sell his or her goods. Tilly was just happy to be unbuckled from the sick making journey to get there.

Lucky day, the farmer was in her shop and had flats of huge, juicy strawberries just in from their very own tunnels, flanked by stalks and stalks of ruby red rhubarb, begging to join our berries.

Normally, without the prospect of Eton Mess, Poppy would be all over a nice bunch of rhubarb. The berries and thoughts of cream and meringue were too much though and she made me promise, promise, promise that if we got rhubarb too, I could not mix it in thereby destroying everything an Eton Mess is supposed to be.

I didn’t mix it in, but I did put it on top. And, then I put it on top of muesli and yogurt in the morning and then on top of ice cream and then, I thought some pork, roast or chops, would benefit hugely from a few bits of this on top and a sprinkling of sea salt. Or, I thought, maybe a nice wedge of camembert or a bit of goat cheese and some oat cakes would be a nice medium. What I am trying to say is that there isn’t a whole lot that I don’t think this would be really good with. 

When you roast these, you’ll find they start to look a ‘little splody’, meaning they have almost burst their skins. That is fine. As the rhubarb cools, it will firm up and then you can move it around gently.

Roasted Rhubarb

7 big stalks of rhubarb washed and cut into 3-inch pieces

3/4 cups sugar

Preheat oven to 375ºF. If you have a convection oven, or fan in your oven, I would use it. If not, you may need to increase the cooking time. 

Line a baking sheet with parchment.

Toss the pieces of rhubarb in the sugar and arrange them on the baking sheet. Sprinkle the sugar that is left behind over them.

Bake for about 20 minutes, checking often, until they look like they are bursting and the edges have started to brown.

Remove from oven and cool. Transfer to a container or plate, reserving any juices for drizzling.

Use them to top Eton Mess, or muesli or yogurt or cheese or meat. You get the idea.

Cornmeal Biscuits or, My Story of Late

Last week, I was bemoaning my recent lack of kitchen enthusiasm. I had made some biscuits, but I didn’t want to post about it because I had posted some other biscuits not so long ago. Then, today, the girls and I made some more biscuits, because we love them and Cook’s Illustrated said they were really good, so we had to. The whole time I was thinking that I should be making something I could write about without making you all think we eat nothing but butter and flour with a bit of stuff to hold it together.

Then, I started thinking about what Denae at The Back Ordered Life said on the weekend. She said you should always write about what you know, you should write your story. And, while I know that I am using this pretty literally, right now I know all about biscuits. All sorts of biscuits, all sorts of fluffy, light and airy little puffs of buttery carb. They are a part of my story. If you make these, they could be part of your story. And, a fine story it will be.

I rarely happen upon a cornmeal based recipe I think I would enjoy. I am not a cornbread lover, most are too sweet. For the same sugary reason, I don’t care for cornmeal muffins. If something looks savoury enough, I may give it a go, but usually not to wind up raving about it. This little number from Cook's Illustrated looked just like the thing I needed to change my mind about cornmeal bakery plus, they are biscuits.

It was raining here. In the rest of the world, one would put on a slicker and brave the elements. This is Southern California, and I was doing like the locals do and chose to act as though a category three hurricane was upon us. Or, you could argue, I had found the perfect excuse to stay in my pyjamas and not brush my hair, let alone actually get in the shower.

All this to say that the recipe calls for buttermilk, I didn’t have any and, although the nearest shop is 100 metres away, I wasn’t going there. I used the old tablespoon of lemon juice in the milk trick and it seems to have worked a treat.

The good person at Cook’s Illustrated, Cali Rich, says to knead the biscuit dough 8-10 times before patting it out. I did not do this, which was fine. However, I did notice that those last biscuits that I cut from the scraps that were smushed back together in a kneadish kind of manner were a little fluffier than the ones cut from the unsmushed dough. So, if you want to knead your dough a few times, I think it would be a good thing. If, like me today, you can’t spare the extra nine seconds it will take, then don’t knead. I leave it up to you.

The other thing the girls and I discovered about these little lovelies I was planning on having for supper is that warm from the oven and drizzled with honey, it is almost impossible not to want to make these a frequent part of your breakfast, lunch and tea time story.

Cornmeal Biscuits adapted from Spring Entertaining from Cook’s Illustrated (makes 12)

1 1/4 cups whole milk

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 cup cornmeal (avoid coarsely ground)

1 tablespoon honey

2 cups all purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

12 tablespoons (3/4 cup) cold salted butter cut into 1/2-inch pieces

Preheat oven to 450º.

Whisk milk and lemon juice together in a large bowl. Let stand until thickened, about ten minutes. Add honey and cornmeal, whisk together. Let stand ten minutes again.

In the bowl of a food processor add flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda and pulse to combine. Add butter and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. 

Add the flour mixture to the cornmeal mixture. Stir until a dough forms.

Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and if you are kneading, knead. Otherwise, pat dough out to about 3/4-inch thickness. Cut into 2 1/2-inch rounds with a cutter or a floured glass or cup. Place on baking sheet.

Bake for 5 minutes, reduce heat to 400º and bake for a further 8-10 minutes.

Let cool for a few minutes on baking sheet before you devour them all.

An Unrecipe

I made something the other day. I have been debating whether to post it or not. It isn't nice. It was pretty but not nice. It was delicious but not nice. Even as I write these words, I wonder whether I should do it or not. I have been lucky enough to be spending the last few months in a seasonless oasis. But, I have decided, if things like this make their way into my market basket, there is little i can do but share it. Throwing caution to the wind, I am going to post this. Not in a nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah way. In a please enjoy and share and remember there is only five more weeks of winter.

***

You don't need a recipe to make hash. It is a pretty simple thing. It can be made plain or fancy. It can be eaten any time of day. It fits every meal.

You take some potatoes and onions and sauté them. You add some meat or fish or, in this case, beautiful green goodness and you sauté it a little more. Add some green onions near the end of the cooking time, almost no matter what kind of hash you are making.If you are want to get carried away, you can top it off with something. It would be the rare combination that a soft poached egg wouldn't suit. Poppy and Stephen think bacon is pretty nice too. Tilly even eats the green bits, but only because they are covered in egg yolk.

Anyway you put it together, it is simple and good and wholesome. It makes you feel good and cozy and that is important.

Upside Down Cake - all the way from Paris

I am trying to get better at my photography. More specifically, food photography. Just when I think I have the best light/angles/tricks to make sure there are no children’s fingers way to get that shot in a certain place, we pick up and move to a new kitchen where all the light/angles/tricks change and I need to learn it all over again. Alright, so maybe the tricks for the children don’t change but one quick browse through the blog will tell you that I still don’t have that one down.

(Note the child sized finger print)

One person who I think does is David Lebovitz. Not in that every shot is perfection way but in the this is what food looks like way. Not to say that his shots aren’t perfect, they are (and who am I to say). His shots are what I aspire to be able to achieve. You know, just as soon as I can drive the camera properly.

The recipes Lebovitz offers up are in the same class as his food shots, so it was to him I turned when we fancied a little Upside Down Cake. 

None of that pineapple stuff though, visions of tinned pineapple rings and glacé cherries bounce around in my head every time I hear the words. I have yet to decide whether that is a bad thing or a fond childhood food memory. I had blueberries to put to use and muffins, pancakes, sauce and cheesecake had all been vetoed.

I barely adapted the recipe, figuring that if David says it’s good I probably shouldn’t mess with it. I tweaked the fruit quantity since I was using all berries instead of something sliced. I also baked it in a pyrex dish because I don’t have a cast iron pan here. I can only imagine how divine it would be in a cast iron pan.

What I got was a very good, no surprises, just what you would expect Upside Down Cake. The cake was very tender and moist and light. The topping was fruity and saucy and sweet. 

I am pretty sure it was the first time I have made Upside Down Cake but it was so easy and the results so good, it won’t be the last. 

It also, as Lebovitz recommends (not that I would ever, even with empty fridge and bare cupboards and two screaming like they hadn't eaten in a month children, be so inclined - and if you believe that, I have a really great used car to sell you), makes a fine breakfast.

Blueberry Upside Down Cake adapted, a tiny bit, from David Lebovitz

If you have a cast iron pan, make this in there. Just cook the caramel and leave it in the pan. Cool it and start from there.

Fruit topping (bottom):

3 tablespoons butter

3/4 cup brown sugar

3 cups blueberries

Cake Base (Topping):

8 tablespoons (1/2 cup) butter

3/4 cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 large eggs

1 1/2 cups flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 cup whole milk, room temperature

(the original recipe called for a 1/4 teaspoon salt as well which I skipped because I used salted butter)

Preheat oven to 350ºF.

Melt butter in pan, add brown sugar and stir until sugar dissolves and it starts to bubble. Remove from heat, if you are not using a cast iron pan, transfer it to your buttered 8-inch baking pan or dish.

Arrange the fruit on top of the cooled sugar.

To make the cake, beat the butter and sugar until fluffy. Add the vanilla and the eggs one at a time.

Sift the dry ingredients together and gently stir 1/2 into the butter mixture. Stir in the milk and then stir in the remaining flour mixture.

Pour on top of the berries and gently spread to cover the fruit.

Bake for around 45 minutes. The cake will spring back in the centre when you gently press down with your finger.

Serve with ice cream or custard or yogurt.

What? Cauliflower Cake?

I discovered this while I was catching up on some posts from the Guardian food section one night. I should have been sleeping but it seemed such a shame to let all that peace and quiet and perfectly good reading time go to waste. I wound up reading it and thought I would file it away, by file I mean forget about in my ‘spirited’ daughter addled brain, for supper some day.

Turns out, some day came sooner than I thought. It came in the form of our say-goodbye-to-my-beautiful-bamboo-counterscape dinner rolled into a last-big-gong-show-before-we-leave-all-of-our-friends-for-six-months dinner. It also came because I needed something to sop up the beef and chestnut and the spicy butternut and lentil stew juices.

Because I am trying to empty the cupboards before we go seasonless in CA, and I will be countertopless for the rest of the week, I didn’t want to wind up with any leftovers. I wanted something a little different though and I remembered, miraculously enough, that I had seen this cauliflower cake thingy somewhere. After a mildly frenzied interweb look around, I found it or remembered where it was. 

I was alarmed that it asked for 10 eggs. I needed to make two and I had exactly four eggs in the house. I had decided that this was what we were having for supper though and continued some by-now-not-so-mildly frenzied (Little Daughter was underfoot and Big Daughter’s return from a friend’s house was imminent) interweb search until I found something the contents of my cupboards and fridge could cope with.

I was not skeptical, Big Daughter was when she got wind of what was going on. The recipe struck me as a little bland but I had remedied that, I hoped, with the addition of more cheese than it called for, a lot of grainy mustard and some finely sliced onion.

Turns out, Big Daughter changed her tune. It is pretty delicious. It has a really great texture like a cross between cake and fritatta but the ground almonds keep it from getting gummy.

I used some 2 year old cheddar because let’s face it, cauliflower and cheddar cheese were pretty much made for each other. I used Kozlik’s Double C mustard but any good grainy mustard would be fine.

I doubled the original recipe, which was lucky, because breakfast was ready for the next day. I even cooked bacon to go with it - big brownie points with Big Daughter. She was putty in my hands for all of about forty-two seconds.

Which leads me to what I may do next time, not that this isn’t really delicious as it is. I keep thinking about roasting the cauliflower with caraway seeds and adding sauteed onion to the batter. I also think that some lardons, that’s bacon bits in English, as Croque-Camille forgets in the recipe I started from, would also make it kind of perfectly meal-like.

Cauliflower Cake adapted from Chou-Fleur de Bretagne by Croque-Camille

1 head cauliflower

2 cups grated old cheddar cheese

4 eggs

1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon olive oil (plus some for roasting the cauliflower)

2 tablespoons grainy mustard 

1 cup flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 1/4 cup almond meal

1/2 teaspoon salt (plus a little for roasting the cauliflower)

Freshly ground black pepper

1/2 cup milk

Thinly sliced onion rings

Preheat oven to 350º.

Break the cauliflower into florets and put it on a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper and toss. Put it in the oven and roast, tossing once or twice, for about twenty minutes or until cauliflower is tender and starting to brown.

Oil two 8-inch round cake tins.

Whisk the eggs, olive oil and mustard together in a large bowl.

In a separate bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, almond meal, salt and some pepper.

Add half the milk to the eggs, then half the flour mixture, half the milk and the remaining flour, thoroughly mixing between each addition.

Fold in the cauliflower and cheese. 

Pour into the baking pans and top with the onion slices.

Bake for 35 minutes.

Remove from oven and cool on a rack for a few minutes. Loosen edges from pan and carefully remove the cake from the pan and serve in wedges.

Saturday's Bounty on Sunday

For most of the winter, our weekends are missing something. We are left wondering what to do with our Saturday mornings. Sure, we could make the hour long drive to town and enjoy what is over-wintering at the Halifax Farmer’s Market but, Poppy can’t fish for sharks in a small stream there. She can’t run around, hand in hand with her best bud, charming vendors and, we assume, safely disappearing down trails through the woods. She tells me that the cupcakes aren’t as good as at our market. And, there is no burly German baker man to give her cinnamon buns just because she happened to pass by and say hi.

So, now that our Saturday mornings are peaceful and we are no longer at a loss for things to do, we get to spend the rest of the day thinking of how we will use our market bounty. It is early days for most produce here in Nova Scotia but we managed a decent haul in spite of our not-quite-warm-enough-yet days.

I found cremini and portobello mushrooms, radishes and some crunchy sprouts, which I was compelled to buy even though I have about five kilos of unsprouted crunchy sprout mix here in my kitchen. I got spinach and mixed greens and beet greens with gorgeous almost baby beets on the bottom . I got whole wheat bread with poppy seeds, of course, from Chris, the above mentioned burly German baker man and, to Poppy’s great delight and despite arriving late-ish in the morning, a package of his always-sold-out-it-seems juniper ham.

The ham is always gone by the time we arrive, even if we get there shortly after eight, Chris is inevitably selling the last package to the person in front of us. To his credit, he has tried to steal the last package back out of the unsuspecting person’s basket just to try and please Poppy, but in the end he had to fall back on the cinnamon bun to cheer her up.

We like brunch at our house and Saturday’s haul, rounded out by a few local eggs, left us well set up to breakfastize something we saw Anna Olson cooking up on TV.  She made her mushrooms with brandy and cream and her bread was a sourdough rye from Ravine in St. David’s, around the corner from my grandmother’s which is where we were staying when we saw the TV show. And, Anna used a mixture of wild mushrooms but we had nothing in the house except for what we got at the market on Saturday and sometimes, simpler is just better.

Poppy Seed French Toast with Sautéed Cremini Mushrooms and Juniper Ham

400 grams (4 heaping cups) quartered or halved, depending on size, cremini mushrooms

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoon butter

Salt and pepper to taste

4 slices of good bread (use what you like)

2 large eggs

2 tablespoons milk

Salt and pepper

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoon butter

4 slices of really good ham (optional)

Fresh chives, chopped

Heat heavy bottomed pan and add 1 tablespoon of olive oil and 1 of butter. Add mushrooms. I like to add the salt at this point when I sauté mushrooms, it is one of the few things I season before I am finished cooking. Cook the mushrooms over medium high heat until they start to brown. They will go a bit grey and get a little watery first and then the water will evaporate and the flavour will concentrate and they will start to brown. Remove the mushrooms from the pan.

While the mushrooms are cooking, whisk eggs with milk and a little salt and pepper in a shallow dish. 

In the same pan, without washing, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil and 1 of butter. soak each side of each slice of bread in the egg mixture and transfer them to the hot pan. Cook until golden brown, about a minute on each side.

Transfer each slice to a plate, top with ham and share mushrooms between the four slices. Sprinkle with chives.

Poppy had her’s with ham, I had mine without and next time, I will be putting a little wilted spinach on mine.