Salty Toasty Umami Popcorn

I find myself refraining from looking at objects too closely.  I suppose this is not a new development.  Just one that I recently noticed.  I resist inspection, as that could lead to seeing too much.  Perhaps this stems from fear, as if one doesn't see it, one can pretend it never happened or doesn't exist.  Or perhaps to retain the beauty, the perfections, as the cracks and the flaws can remain invisible when quickly looked over.  Or perhaps, because quite frankly, I'm just not a visual thinker, so my mind glosses over things.  This tendency stands in contrast to my son, who must inspect all the things very,  very closely.  

I suppose Max is on to something in this case.  There are things I miss out on when I do my standard visual gloss over.  I miss the curves and contours of a single piece of popcorn. The way the seasonings collect in the crevices.  In this case, the speckles of salt and pepper that dot the surface, punctuating the white expanse with bits of color, directing your attention so that your eyes cannot help but be drawn to the sight of the glittery seasonings that await and your fingers are unable to do anything but grab a handful more.  The clinging of the nutritional yeast, holding on to each popped kernel with all of its might, trying to stay connected to this source of warmth.

It seems like a physical impossibility that this shape, the shape in front of you even exists, as they once, just a few moments ago, were part of the uniformed soldiers of kernels, and now in what seems like a defiance of physical laws, each of these heated kernels has burst open and become an individual.  An individual with its very own proportion of salt to pepper to cayenne to nutritional yeast.

While I have something to learn from Max about sight, I have one up on him when it comes to taste.  Taste is not something to be rushed over.  One must linger over each bite, finding the unexpected notes.  The warm, toasted notes from the salt and the peppercorns.  The way the Szechuan peppercorns open up taste buds, acting as an ambassador for the fiery notes of the cayenne.  The umami that comes from the nutritional yeast. The subtle background noise of the olive oil, giving just a hint of fruit. This is a rather stripped down popcorn.  But somehow it is still an electric one.  Something I can't stop eating.  I even catch myself admiring its appearance.

Ingredients
For the toasted salt and pepper:
1 tablespoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons Szechuan peppercorns

For the popcorn:
approximately 3 tablespoons canola oil (enough to cover the bottom of a large pot)
1/3 cup popcorn kernels
2 -3 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons nutritional yeast flakes
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 1//2 teaspoons ground toasted salt/pepper mix

Instructions
For the toasted salt and pepper:  We got this technique from Fiona Smith's book Dim Sum.  Place the salt and Szechuan peppercorns in a skillet and cook over low heat for about 3 minutes, until the mixture has become fragrant. Then run the mixture through a spice grinder.

For the popcorn:  Heat the canola oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add three kernels of popcorn and cover pot with lid. Once those have popped, add 1/3 cup of kernels. Shake the pot frequently. In a small bowl, stir the melted butter and the sesame oil together. Once the popping has stopped, turn off heat, add the olive oil mixture and stir to coat. Add the rest of the seasonings.

A Rice Pudding, with Tangelo, Hibiscus, and Red Rice

Lists are such a handy tool for organizing thoughts and grouping together like sets of items. For instance, pride. Or more specifically, things that I have either done or not done in the past few weeks and afterwards felt some pride. I'm feeling a bit pleased with myself, as this list isn't short.

Jenn's list of things that she has done or not done recently that make her proud:

-Getting Seth to recoil in horror when making a beastly noise right in his ear (ok, this happens a lot, but I will never cease to feel pride) .

-Finding the smudge known as Andromeda in the binoculars during some nighttime sky watching.

-Figuring out a workaround after Max's light-up toothbrush died

-Not telling my grandmother about her surprise 80th birthday dinner (keeping secrets is not one of my specialties in life).

-Used a plunger without having to frantically call a loved one to find out if I a) did indeed need to use one b) how to actually use it.

-Managed to leave Whole Foods with only two cartons of candy instead of the 5 (give or take) that I wanted to hoard.

-Found a replacement monitor cord just lying in a drawer, and almost successfully swapped this never-been-used one for the extremely frayed, cat-chewed one that we had been using for far, far too long (this is notable because my brain actively refuses to learn anything that remotely pertains to hooking up electronic stuff, and I actually made the correct identification of where this cord goes).

-Made and ate rice pudding, as I had previously never made a rice pudding. 

Which brings me to our Creative Cooking Crew challenge entry for this month.  This month’s challenge (hosted by Lazaro from Lazaro Cooks) is all about rice, asking us what we can do to transform, elevate, modernize or creatively spotlight it in a dish.  Check back in a few days for a link to the roundup of everyone's dishes!

I've never been drawn to the idea of rice pudding. I was turned off by the idea of a non-savory use of rice. Texturally, the whole thing seemed utterly unappealing. Plus, my brain automatically equates pudding with chocolate.

I am now ashamed of my audacity, the brazenness in that belief, my lack of imagination, my inability to see how delicious a pudding made from rice can be.

I now understand the appeal. Instead of repulsion, there is delight to be had in sinking your teeth into those little granules of rice, all puffed up from a nice, long cook in some milk, and suspended by a creamy and sweet concoction that struggles lovingly to hold the whole thing together.

Rice pudding is also infinitely customizable, and it now seems ludicrous that I scoffed at it before. I used Bittman's How to Cook Everything to guide me through this whole new world of rice pudding. I was so extremely excited to see that the instructions amounted to basically - stir, put in oven, stir, put in oven, stir, put in oven. Exactly the kind of thing that one can handle with an active three year old demanding continuous attention.

I went with a combination of tangelo, hibiscus and coconut milk for this particular pudding. This is not really the result of a concerted effort, but one of those happy accidents in which mismatched ingredients all found a home with one another. I'm still not quite sure how it was decided that the home would be rice pudding.

The tangelos were extremely hard to not bring home. So bright, almost glaringly so, just about ready to burst with that sweet and tangy juice. So home with me they went. Dried hibiscus leaves had been hanging around in the cupboard, waiting to give a floral, tangy hand to the enterprise. Red rice (a particularly toothsome form of rice), leftover from a previous CCC challenge, was begging to be used up, and would complement the color from the hibiscus. Coconut milk gave the whole thing some heft, some sweetness, some tropical flair. I'm not sure if this fulfills the requirement of the challenge. but at least I feel proud to have tried.

*adapted from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything

Ingredients
2 14-ounce cans coconut milk
1/2 cup red rice
5 tablespoons sugar
pinch salt
zest from 1 tangelo
2 tablespoons fresh tangelo juice
1/4 cup dried hibiscus leaves, wrapped in cheesecloth or spice bag
chopped macadamia nuts, optional, for serving

Instructions
Heat oven to 300. In an ovenproof baking dish or saucepan, stir together coconut milk, red rice, sugar, salt, and tangelo juice/zest. Drop in the hibiscus leaves. Bake for 30 minutes, then stir. Place in oven again for 30 minutes, and stir. Then bake again for another 20-30 minutes, until the rice has plumped up and the mixture is nice and thick. Remove hibiscus leaves.

Blueberry Pomegranate Yogurt with Sage Butter and Almonds

Every once in a great while, lines, shapes, forms and expanses all come together in such a way that one can actually feel the roundness, the spherical nature of the Earth.  This fact, which exists in the realm of abstraction, is accumulated as knowledge, to be carried along like eggs in a basket as one travels along.

There are times, however, when this fact becomes more that theoretical.  It becomes practical and alive.
Instead of seeing the world with its immense tracts of perceived flatness, these rare and beautiful moments occur, in which we can feel the bends and curves of the world . The four dimensions of reality that we know of are actually felt.  Not only known, but experienced.  With sight, with sound, with touch.

The body becomes alive, electric, taking in the sensation and rolling it around in the mind.  For this moment, this brief and fleeting moment, it is as if you have been bestowed a secret from the universe.

That electric feeling... was sparked with this yogurt.  The butter, infused with the unmistakable smell and taste of fresh sage leaves is what does it.  Adding butter to something that generally is served butter-free raises possibilities.  So many possibilities that bend and curve the world of taste, giving glimmers and whispers of what can exist in edible form.

Not only is there sage butter here, but blueberries and pomegranate arils glistening like jewels, dusted with a hint of cinnamon and squeeze of fresh orange juice, orange-scented yogurt, and almonds and flax seeds to give some crunch, some heft to each bite.  A taste of what it means to be alive.

I am aware that blueberries are not yet in season, but here is a video all about this fruit from Cooking Light to file away for that time, that precious precious time when blueberries make their glorious appearance once again.

Ingredients
6 ounces blueberries
1/4 cup pomegranate arils
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon fresh orange juice

1 1/2 cups plain Greek yogurt
1 1/2 tablespoons fresh orange juice
1 1/2 teaspoons honey

1/3 cup sliced almonds
2 tablespoons flax seeds

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
pinch kosher salt
8 sage leaves, torn

Instructions
In a small bowl, toss the blueberries and pomegranate arils with cinnamon and fresh orange juice.  In another bowl, stir the yogurt, juice, and honey together.  In yet another bowl, combine almonds and flax seeds.
mix everything together

Melt the butter and salt in a small pot over medium low heat.  Add the sage leaves cook for a few moments until the butter takes on a wonderful sage fragrance.  Assemble the yogurt bowls with the yogurt, berries, almond/seed mixture and a generous drizzle of sage butter. Serve immediately before the butter has a chance to harden.

Persimmon Vanilla Muffins with Streusel

Baking muffins has become part of my routine, my comfort, my joy.  My love for muffins has always burned, but previously, it was at a low and steady temperature.

Now it has burst into all-consuming flames, and I am unable to stop myself from heading to the kitchen, whisking together some dry ingredients, mixing the wet ones, then gently combining the two and filling up those eagerly awaiting cups in the muffin tin.

I can't quite put my finger on the reason why this passion has become an engulfing one.  But I find myself taking refuge, needing refuge, in the hypnotic motions required to make a muffin.  And then there is the subsequent free falling into the delightful, delicious arms of the muffin waiting to catch my feelings once they have cooled after baking. I also know that once I find out that the muffins have all been consumed, I become anxious. Jittery, really.  At which point it becomes evident that muffins desperately need to be made again. And so it goes.

99.9% of the time, the muffins that get made have chocolate chips in them.  Banana muffins with chocolate chips. Orange muffins with chocolate chips.  Pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips.

This time, I strayed just a bit in my muffin making.  No chocolate.  And a topping was added.  Chopped up persimmon in a vanilla-kissed baked good and topped with some crunchy streusel.

These muffins were a diversion from the usual routine that has marked so many of recent days.  Yet my passion for the stuff has grown even hotter.

Want some more information about this most wonderful winter produce - the persimmon?  Check out this article from Cooking Light!

Ingredients
1 vanilla bean, scraped
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 cup canola oil

2 cups chopped persimmons

Streusel
1/4 cup flour
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 cup finely chopped pecans
pinch kosher salt

Instructions
Heat oven to 350.

In a bowl, whisk together the vanilla bean caviar, cinnamon, flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

In another bowl, stir together the egg, buttermilk, brown sugar, oil, and vanilla extract.

Gently stir the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients, being careful not to overmix.  Stir in the persimmon pieces.

To make the streusel topping, pulse flour, sugar, butter, cinnamon, and almonds in food processor.

Prepare a muffin tin with baking spray or with liners.  Divide the batter amongst the cups.  Divide the streusel topping amongst the batter.

Bake for 2-30 minutes, until golden brown and a cake tester comes out clean.

Pizza Sauce with Anchovies

Fog often rolls in, sweetly and meekly undulating before finally settling in to blanket the sky.

Seldom, but not never, the fog sheds its docility and becomes an aggressor. Overtaking the skies rapidly and fiercely. Rather than creeping up on you and catching you unaware, you cannot help but notice its intrusion.

This aggressiveness is similar to that of eating anchovies on a pizza.  You are happily chowing down on a slice until your mouth encounters this overly salty, briny substance.  Then it becomes a punch in the face.  Or the mouth, rather.

Then you become all sad, because you were quite happy eating your pizza until you ran into the anchovy. And not only are you sad, but you are confused.  So confused.  You usually love the flavor anchovies.  And you love pizza.  But why don't you love the pizza topped with anchovies?

Then the answer hits you.  You need to tame the aggressiveness.  And then you can still have a pizza that has that special something that the anchovies give.  

So you started making your pizza sauce with the anchovies melted into it.  And then there was no more confusion.  The fog had been lifted.

Need a pizza dough recipe to go with the sauce? Cooking Light has a great basic pizza dough recipe right here!

Ingredients

28 ounces crushed tomatoes

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 anchovy fillets
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 of a small onion
4-5 ounces tomato paste
red pepper flakes, to taste (I like about 1/2 teaspoon of the stuff)
salt, pepper, and sugar to taste, if necessary

Instructions
In a pot over medium low heat, add the tomatoes, oil, anchovies, garlic, onion, tomato paste, red pepper flakes.  Simmer for approximately 45 minutes, until the onion is soft.  Remove the onion.  Adjust salt and pepper and sugar to taste.

Greetings, changes afoot...

Hello, readers!  Though we almost never break the fourth wall and speak about the blog itself in our posts, we just wanted to take this special occasion to let you know that we are revamping a bit, and as such, posting will be less frequent over the next few weeks.  We are preparing to build a new type of content into the site, and it's something we've been very excited about, and enjoyed working on.  We can't yet say for sure when this will come online, as we'd like to link it to an upcoming redesign, but please, bear with us, and stand by!  Have no fear, new recipes will still be posted regularly, but there will be a slight drop off from the usual Monday/Thursday routine.  In the meantime, take care, and don't be a stranger!

Beef and Orange Dumplings

My faith in humanity is often challenged.  Occasionally to the point of being nonexistent.  From the lack of action on climate change to the lack of a truly universal health care system, I find myself in despair.

These spirals of despair, however, are punctuated with little bursts of light that shine on the goodness in this world.  One such light is the existence of dumplings.  We, as a species, did good there.

Dumplings are little edible presents.  However, instead of being unwrapped with fingers and hands, with bows and papers being flung in the air with wild abandon, one’s mouth tears apart a dough to get to the delectable combination that awaits inside – be it vegetables, meats, or something sweet.

Are not dumplings some of the absolute best food?  Indeed, the answer would be yes.  Yes, they are absolutely wonderful.  Yes, they are absolutely delicious.  How can the answer to this question be anything but an emphatic and resounding YES!

Our love of biting into dumplings knows no bounds, so we were so ridiculously excited to get this month's Creative Cooking Crew Challenge  - dumplings! This month's challenge is hosted by Joan from Foodalogue, so be sure to check back here later in the month for the link to the round-up!

Here we filled wonton wrappers with minced Kobe beef, 5-spice powder, and a bit of orange flavor. The dumplings were boiled and then coated with a serving sauce spiked with a hint of orange blossom water. Heaps of freshness were added before serving as well - mint leaves, scallions, and slices of jalapenos (for those who have a taste for spicy).  A restoration of faith in the good.

Note: I adore the book Asian Dumplings by Andrea Nguyen - her book has been a huge influence on any dumpling prowess I may possess.  I wholeheartedly suggest picking up her book if you are interested in dumpling  making!

Ingredients

For the dumplings:
5-6 ounces Kobe beef, minced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon rice wine
1/2 teaspoon 5-spice powder
pinch kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon cara cara orange juice
splash orange blossom water
1 teaspoon coconut oil, melted

For assembling the dumplings:
25-30 wonton wrappers
beef mixture
small bowl of water

For the serving sauce:
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 tablespoons canola oil
1/2 teaspoon orange blossom water
2 tablespoons cara cara orange juice
pinch 5-spice powder
1 tablespoon sesame oil
handful sliced jalapenos
2 garlic cloves, minced
torn scallions
generous handful of torn mint leaves

Instruction
To make the filling:
In a medium bowl, mix the beef with the garlic and ginger.  In a small bowl, whisk soy sauce, rice wine, 5-spice, salt, pepper, orange juice, orange blossom water, and oil.  Pour the mixture over the beef mixture.  Set aside, allowing the flavors to come together for at least 30 minutes.

To assemble the dumplings:
Take a wonton wrapper and place in the palm of your hand. Place ½ tablespoon of the mixture in the middle. Dab water around 3 adjacent edges and fold into a rectangle shape.  Then bring the ends together to make a round-ish sort of shape.  Repeat until the mixture has been used up (makes 25-30 dumplings).

Bring a large pot of water to boil.  Drop 6 or 7 dumplings into the water.  Once the dumplings float to the top, allow them to cook for three more minutes.  Use a slotted spoon to remove the dumplings.  

To make the serving sauce:

Place dumplings in shallow serving dish. Stir together soy sauce, canola oil, orange blossom water, orange juice, 5-spice powder, and sesame oil.  Pour mixture over dumplings.  Scatter jalapenos, garlic, scallions, and mint leaves on top.