Summer Bubble: Cherry Dutch Baby

"Cherries bring with them a certain frivolity, a carefree joy like hearing the far-off laughter of a child at play.  Their appearance, in deepest summer, comes when life is often at its most untroubled.  A bag of cherries is a bag of happiness."  ~ Nigel Slater

I'm taking a break from stuffing my face with all of the glorious summer fruit to say hi.  Hi.  I hope your summer is especially untroubled and frivolous.  It's the only way to behave right now, right?  Someone told me the other day how many weeks, no days, are left in summer and I told them to shhhhhhhhh.  No one burst my summer bubble.  I'm not thinking past the middle of September, thank you very much.  Right now it's all about reveling in the sunshine, letting the warm air wash over my skin and driving on back roads with the windows rolled down.   I've been on a few road trips here and there, exploring beautiful pockets of Saskatchewan and Alberta.  If you've been following me on Instagram, you've no doubt seen the deluge of prairie vista shots.  I can't stop!  The photos will no doubt show up in a post here very soon.  But today I want to tell about this Dutch Baby I made my mom for her birthday breakfast.  It's so good, it's worth turning the oven on for.  Promise.  

The Last Hurrah: Baked Peaches with Almond Crust

It has been a ritual of sorts.  Every Sunday, for the past several weeks, I head to the farmers market.  There is a fruit truck there, you see.  And it beholds soft, fuzzy peaches from British Columbia.  I place about 8 or so in a bag - and they are all for me.  The kind-looking woman at the checkout knows.  You like the peaches, she says.  I  nod.  And she nods too.  Yes.  They are good.   And when they get home, they won't last the week.  I typically let them ripen on the counter until they smell just about right, and their flesh gives a little.  Then I bite into one and let the juices dribble down my chin, arms.  Sometimes this happens while I'm hovering over the sink (and I promise, I never eat over the sink, but I can't help myself) or it happens while sitting under my favourite tree in the backyard.   It's a ritual of sorts that is slowly coming to an end, because as goes summer, as go the peaches.  These last days of summer are numbered; the crisp mornings and faint cry of the geese overhead tell me so.  Just like a reluctant lover, no matter how hard you hold on, goodbye must be said.  Oh, but it was fun while it lasted. 

Finalé: Roasted Pumpkin and Pear Soup with Brie

 

For some time I knew the last post of 2011 would be sticky toffee pudding.  At first I was going to make it Christmas Eve, but in the end it was a quiet night with my Mom and we had appetizers and watched Mildred Pierce on HBO (brilliant!), and ate that caramel popcorn.  Then I was going to make it when my sister came a calling but it seemed there was already so much sweet stuff in the house, like these cookies, and my Mom's super awesome Jam-Jams, which the kids go nuts for.  And frankly, I don't know about you, but there was some heavy indulging over the past few weeks, and just looking at a sauce that required 2 cups of whipping cream and a sizable chunk of butter, made me a wee bit queasy and I couldn't do that to you.  Or me!  Not yet.  Given that I've pretty much been living in stretchy pants for the better part of a week, I thought I'd give the sweet stuff a rest.  But all hope is not lost, the recipe will appear here in the next couple of weeks I'm sure.  So far it's on the New Years' Day menu, unless I'm still on a sugar holiday (historically, these holidays are short-lived).

When I was thinking what else I could cook up for a year-end finalé, a novel concept hit me.  Cook some vegetables!  It's been ages since one graced the pages of this blog - not since these mushrooms, in fact.  Crazy hey?  Further digging around the freezer located some pumpkin I roasted  back in November, when I was in full throttle Christmas baking mode and had no time or inclination to do anything with it then.  There were some beautiful organic Anjou pears on the counter, I thought how fitting.  My first post of 2011 (and first post, ever!) had pears in it, so it seemed somehow cosmic to cook with pears in the finalé.  It all has a certain symmetry to it, which I kind of like. And with that a soup was born, and an elegant one at that.  It's simple, not fussy, but contains leeks and brie so it sounds all fancy pants.

My sister has a gigantic garden and grows gigantic pumpkins.  This is one of hers.  The flesh was a light yellow when it finished roasting, hence the light colour of this soup.  Don't think I be foolin' ya!  There's really pumpkin in those bowls, though the pumpkin flavour doesn't shout out at you.  It's balanced with the slight sweetness coming from the pears and maple syrup; the aromatic leeks and thyme; the lushness of a little bit of whipping cream at the end.  I know, I added cream.  Adding milk would have just been wrong.  All wrong.  And whipping cream is so, so right.  

What I really love about this soup is the bit of brie in the bottom of the bowls.  Hot soup is spooned over top and when you give it a stir, the brie melds beautifully, and you wonder why you never put brie in the bottom of your soup bowl before.

So it's almost New Year's Eve.  Are you ready to say goodbye?  I totally am.  While 2011 was incredibly good to me, and every day I count myself lucky and grateful to be where I am, doing what I do, I'm also happy to let it go.  I've been taking stock of all the good things and writing them down in my little Moleskine.  Like when I saw Dave Grohl up close at the Foo Fighters show (okay, not close enough to touch, but we shared a moment, for reals); and when I was the featured food blogger here; and when Mushrooms Canada loved my recipe; and when my garden gave me such amazing bounty; and when old friends came to visit; and when new friendships blossomed; and when everyone I love continues to be healthy and doing so very well.  Looking back, some good stuff happened this year.  Yes, indeedy.

Exactly one year ago I was looking at Blogger and reading about how to start a blog, and frankly freaked out of my mind and overwhelmed with all of the techie lingo.  But I soon got over any hesitations, and just did it.  Starting writing and taking pictures and letting little pieces of my world unfold for you.  Among the many shining moments of 2011, seeing sweetsugarbean live for the first time was one of the biggest and happiest.  Thank you for stopping by and making my recipes and leaving me with the kindest comments.  You've pretty much made my 2011 rock.  Here's to an even better 2012, full of more food, recipes and stories from my little green kitchen.  xo Renee  

Roasted Pumpkin and Pear Soup with Brie

10 cups of pumpkin, or any other squash, like butternut or buttercup, peeled and chopped into 1 inch chunks
2 tbsp butter
1 carrot, diced
1 medium onion, diced
2 leeks, light green part only, washed very well and sliced
8 cups chicken stock
2 tsp dried thyme
coarse salt and pepper
2 ripe pears, peeled and diced
2 tbsp maple syrup
1/2 cup whipping cream
8 ounces of Brie cheese, rind removed, and sliced
snipped chives for garnish

On two parchment lined bake sheets, toss the pumpkin in a bit of olive oil, salt and pepper and roast in a 375* oven until soft, about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Set aside.

In a large soup pot, heat butter over medium heat.  Add the carrot, leeks and onion.  Sauté until soft, about 5 minutes, careful not to brown.  Add the cooked pumpkin, thyme, salt and pepper, and about 7 cups of chicken broth.  Stir well and bring to a boil.  Let it simmer for 25 minutes, add the diced pears and simmer 10 minutes longer.  If it seems too thick, add more stock.  Remove from heat, and with an immersion blender, pureé the soup until smooth.  Add the maple syrup and whipping cream, and more stock if too thick.  Adjust seasonings.  Place slices of brie in soup bowls and ladle the hot soup over top.  Garnish with fresh chives.  Serves 8 

Have a very Happy New Year!  All good things to you in 2012!

Something Different: Cranberry Bars with Walnut Shortbread Crust

December.  It's right around the corner.  Usually I greet it with a great deal of trepidation and anxiety.  If you've ever worked in a kitchen during the holidays, you know of which I speak.  The long, long hours, providing merriment for everyone else, take a toll physically, mentally and emotionally.  December is turbo charged with excitement and and a fast-paced ferociousness to churn out high volumes of food in a short amount of time.  At the end of the day, after I drive home in the quiet dark of the Winter night, I peel off the boots and parka, sink into my couch for a good half hour and stare at the ceiling in a semi-vegetative state.  The cats' cries for food rouse me from zombieland my stupor and after a nice hot shower that runs for too long (gotta wash that onion out of my hair!) I feel human again.  A mug of steaming tea helps too.  Or a glass of wine, depending on just how shitty bad the day was.  Often too exhausted to go out and visit friends, or else I'm working most weekends, I don't start feeling the Christmas love until Dec.23 when work is over for 10 days and I can sleep until noon if I wish.  And I sometimes do.  For the last 12 years that I've been cooking professionally this is how December looks and feels in my world, plus throw in a meltdown or two, chapped hands and cranky panties.

I'm aiming for this year to be different - less shivers of anxiety, more comfort and joy.  No tears in the bathroom - only Christmas cheer.  (Ha ha.  That sounds like I'm drinking in the bathroom at work, but I'm not, really!).  I'm going to have a lovely elf help me out of peeling a million pounds of potatoes, and I've already decided to delegate.  And ask for help.  Being somewhat a control freak, this is huge for me.  I've checked off  "yes" to a couple of party invites and booked myself a few hours of massage.  And breathe.  I. Will. Breathe.  I will make it through to the 23rd with nary a meltdown.  Or a cranky panty.  Promise.

Because of my frenetic work schedule, I like to get my Christmas baking done relatively early, so I'm not running around Safeway like a mad woman on Christmas Eve looking for condensed milk and Oreo crumbs.  I adore baking at Christmas - I crank Charlie Brown's Christmas and cream butter like crazy.  Boxing up my goodies for family and friends has become a tradition of mine - sending it across the country too, to places like Windsor, Toronto, Edmonton, Lloydminster and Preeceville.  So far no one complains that they get shortbread instead of a gift card at Walmart.  Or else they are just being very polite.  Being of a crafty nature, if I can make a gift personal and from the heart, isn't that really what this season is all about?

My Christmas baking round-up looks something like this:  some traditional standbys that I must bake or else the family would flip.  Like gingerbread trees with lemon icing, chocolate espresso crinkle cookies, and my infamous rosemary oatmeal shortbread.  Hold onto your hats, they are all coming your way very soon!  I also like to shake up the repertoire and include new recipes (because they are everywhere my eyeballs go these days) into the mix.  These cranberry bars from the Kitchn caught my gaze last year and as soon as I saw them I knew they'd make a pretty addition to my dessert gift boxes this year.  That colour is fab, no?  Three cups of cranberries produce that perfect shade of pink.  Don't be intimidated by the few steps here, it's just some simmering and straining.  The crust is easy-peasy press-in, and the walnuts really rock it.  If you prefer pecans or almonds, go crazy.  I know I say this all the time, but yet again I licked the pot of cranberry curd clean.  A longtime lover of lemon curd, I'm happy to report that this tasty business holds up to par.  It's smooth like butta and tastes like it too.  In terms of recipe research I did sneak one out of the freezer to see how well they are holding up and I tell you they freeze like a dream.  The candied lemon peel is a nice finishing touch, and not at all difficult to make.  What ever doesn't make it onto your bars makes good snackage. Santa may like a taste too.

Cranberry Bars with Walnut Shortbread Crust

crust:
1 cup walnuts
1 cup flour
1/2 cup icing sugar, tamped down
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup butter

filling:
3 cups cranberries (fresh or frozen.  I used frozen and it worked fine!)
1/2 cup water
1 cup sugar (use a little less if you want a less-sweet square, with more cranberry punch)
4 eggs
4 egg yolks
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup butter, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces. 

To make crust, in a food processor, pulse the nuts 15 times or until coarsely chopped.  Add the rest of the dry ingredients and pulse a bit more to combine.  Add the butter and process until dough holds it shape.  Line a 9x13 inch pan with parchment and press the dough into the pan, trying to get it as even as possible.  Freeze for half hour.  Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes, or until golden around the edges.  In the meantime, make your filling....
Add the cranberries and water to a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Stir until they are popped and mushy, about 5 minutes. Pour and press this through a fine mesh strainer over a medium bowl.  Using the back of a spatula works well.  Cool puree to room temp.  Discard all of the pulpy bits.  To the bowl with the cranberry puree, add sugar, eggs, yolks, lemon juice and salt.  Stir until smooth and even.  Put this mixture back into a clean saucepan and over medium heat, stir continuously until it thickens and coats the back of a spoon.  About 10-12 minutes. Remove from heat and add butter all at once.   Pour the cranberry curd through a clean fine mesh strainer and into a clean bowl.  Pour this mixture into your par-baked crust and bake for 10-15 minutes at 350 degrees.  The centre should be set, but still a little jiggly.  I baked mine for close to 15 min.  Let cool on a rack, then refrigerate before slicing into squares.  Makes about 24 squares.  Dust with icing sugar and a little candied lemon peel to make them look pretty.  Adapted from the Kitchn.

* You could also make the cranberry curd all by itself and keep it in the fridge for up to a week.  Amazing on toast and fresh scones and anything else yummy. 

Candied Lemon Peel

5-6 lemons
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 cup cold water
2 cups sugar

Peel lemons into long, thin strips.  Fill medium pot 3/4 full of water and 1/2 tsp salt.  Add the lemon peels and bring to a boil.  Simmer 10 min, then drain.  Repeat using other 1/2 tsp salt.  This softens the peels and removes the bitterness from the pith.  Drain peels second time and set aside.  Add the 1 1/2 cups cold water and 2 cups sugar to pot.  Stir to dissolve.  Add the drained peels and bring to a boil, simmering over low heat for 45-60 minutes.  Keep an eye that you don't caramelize them near the end.  Spray wax paper with cooking spray.  With a fork, remove peels from pot and place on waxed paper.  Coil around toothpicks so they go all spiral-like. Let cool, then take off toothpick and garnish your cranberry squares.  Makes about 1 1/2 cups.  I halved this recipe and still had lots.  Adapted from the Kitchn. 

 

Pumpkin Whole Grain Waffles with Maple Greek Yogurt

 

Sunday mornings 'round my house kind of look like this:  I'm wakened either by cat paws stepping on my hair or gingerly tapping my face (I prefer the latter.) The poor things are of course starving.   If it's a reasonable hour, I'll get up, stretch, and feed the faces that will not stop wailing meowing until there's a dish of Fancy Feast before them.  Spoiled little beasts, I know.  Face gets washed, hair thrown into pony tails, and I change into my weekend uniform of leggings, over-sized sweatshirt, and knee high wool slippers that I can't live without during the freezing cold Winter months here.  Sexy, right?  Kettle boils, green tea made.  I check my Facebook take a look at the paper, and of course, think about food.  Like what's for breakfast Ren?

I'd totally be fibbing if I told you these waffles were a spontaneous event this Sunday morning.  Being a food blogger and a little uptight someone who loves to plan, I pretty much know what I'll be cooking for the entire week.  Given the waning Autumn light, all of the action that you see before you has to take place on Saturdays and Sundays.  It's the best part of my week, that's a true story.

These waffles were born mostly from my need to use up some sour milk in my fridge.  Nothing more, nothing less. They almost were a lemon cake, but then I remembered some frozen pumpkin puree in my freezer from when I made that incredible Thanksgiving tiramisu.  Pumpkin waffles it is!  I totally healthified (it's my blog and I can make up words if I want to) them with the addition of whole wheat, oat bran, ground flax and oats.  Healtharama!  You'd figure they'd be heavy globs of grain, but they're not.  Sure, they are substantial, like you won't want to eat more than two, maybe three, but really, should you be eating more than three?  The pumpkin and the spices it parties with so well are a great switch up for the everyday waffle.  And those pockets, that catch the butter and maple syrup.  Those pockets leave me speechless. 

You may be wondering about the yogurt part?  It's kind of crazy to put yogurt on waffles, but this Greek stuff is the shit best.  Thick and creamy, and especially wondrous mixed with a little maple syrup.  You won't even miss the whipped cream.  Okay, I lie about that.  You will miss the whipped cream, because nothing compares to whipped cream.  That very well could be my epitaph.  You will miss the whipped cream, but you will feel healthier opting for the yogurt.  In the approaching Season of Excess, a little healthy substitution isn't such a bad thing.

On this Sunday I sit at the counter in my little kitchen, with just a few bits of pumpkin waffle remaining on my plate; hands wrapped around my mug of tea.  The cats, with their belly's full too, have decided to curl up and sleep, again.  Outside the first flakes of snow are falling, and I think could things get any better than this?  

Pumpkin Whole Grain Waffles with Maple Greek Yogurt

1/4 cup butter, melted
1 cup pumpkin puree
2 eggs
1 1/4 cup buttermilk, or sour milk
1 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp honey
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all purpose flour
1/4 cup ground flax seed
1/4 cup oat bran, or wheat germ
1/3 cup large flake oats
3 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp salt

In a medium bowl whip together the butter, pumpkin, eggs, milk, vanilla and honey.  In a large bowl, combine all dry ingredients.  Stir the wet into the dry until combined, batter will be thick.  Heat your waffle iron and drop batter onto iron.  Make waffles as per manufacturer's instructions.  Keep waffles warm in oven until all batter used up.  Makes about 10 waffles.  Serve warm with butter, maple syrup and if you like:

Maple Greek Yogurt

1 cup Greek yogurt
1/8 cup maple syrup

Combine together and serve with warm waffles. Recipe adapted from The Little Red House. 

Savouring: Sour Cherry Bread Pudding

 

Bread pudding is kind of like November - not particularly glamorous, and even a little econo, because let's face it, there's a bigger rodeo to come in, oh about 50 days.  (Yes, I guess I've started the countdown.)   The saver in me has, well, started saving, or is at least planning to save.  A just-announced Prince concert in my town means there may have to be a small ticket purchase - if I miss him singing Purple Rain I don't think I could stand it.  There's no doubt about it, over the next 7 weeks there will be saving, savouring and there will be a little splurging.  Making a delicious dessert out of pantry staples is definitely key to my saving program.

My Mom likes to tell stories of growing up on the farm, especially food stories.  There was always an excess amount of eggs, dairy and bread, thus bread pudding was a regular feature at the supper table. Sometimes with raisins (ew) and sometimes without.  I asked her if she made it for us when we were kids and she said we hated it, so she didn't really bother.  How times have changed!  Now I kind of adore bread pudding, for it's crusty, caramelized edges, and the smooth, custardy middle. Studded with fruit and not-too-sweet, it's super comfort food, and super easy on the bank balance.  Me like!

Bread pudding is one of those desserts that comes out and surprises you with its loveliness. Seemingly not made with anything special - I mean, what's so awesome about bread soaked in milk and egg?  It's all so humble, right?  The key is to start with good bread - not the junky white stuff - but a substantial sourdough, or a crusty French loaf, or a gorgeous challah.  You want this bread to have some body, some life, to it.  Eggs are the other key player here and their super farm fresh, bright yellow yolks make me happy.  Dressed up with some generous shakes of cinnamon and a decent amount of vanilla this bread pudding would be fine.  But wait!  Why settle for fine (I'm not a believer in settling for anything or anyone) when you can knock it out of the park with some sour cherries?

Remember the sour cherries from one of the best things I did this Summer?  Every time I see the bright red beauties tucked away in my freezer I have a little flashback to that late August morning, laughing with my cousin Leanne as we picked them in the early light.  Geese flew above me and Fall was around the corner; Winter not even on my radar.  Now I'm bundled in layers and scarves; gloves must keep my hands warm especially in the early morning because I hate cold hands (and cold hearts.)  August mornings are a distant, but happy memory and I kind of love that sour cherries take me back to that orchard in the early morning light.

Sour cherries are just the jumping off point for all things possible with bread pudding.  If you don't have a stash like I do, just substitute blueberries or raspberries, heck even canned peaches would be fabulous.  Apples and pears are aplenty right now, and would be perfectly at home in this recipe.  If you've been reading me for awhile you know I have a massive aversion to all things raisin - but if you'd like to toss some into this bread pudding, go right ahead, we can still be friends.  I'd rather soak some dried cranberries or apricots in brandy first, then throw them in.  Imagine that. (Noting to self as we speak.)  There are a million recipes for bread pudding, some which call for placing the baking dish in a water bath while the pudding bakes in the oven.  I don't bother here - the only time I bust out a water bath is when I'm baking either a cheesecake or crème brûlée.  I don't think the dessert suffers - the caramelized edges are my favourite part - well that and its econo-friendly ways.  Saving is not so bad after all.  It's the savouring that matters most. 

Sour Cherry Bread Pudding

6 cups day old French, sourdough or challah bread, cut into 1 1/2 " cubes
3 cups of sour cherries, thawed (I strained mine so they weren't so juicy) or other fruit
5 eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 3/4 cup half and half or whole milk
1 tbsp pure vanilla extract
2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup maple syrup

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Butter a 8 or 9 inch square baking dish.  In a medium bowl toss the cubed bread with fruit. Set aside.  In a large bowl, beat the eggs until frothy.  Add sugar and half and half.  Beat until well blended.   Add the spices and salt.  Add the bread to the egg mixture and using your hands, stir everything together.  Pour into your prepared dish and let stand for 30  minutes before baking.  (At this point it can be prepared overnight and baked the next day.) Bake for about 25 minutes, covered with tin foil.  Unwrap and bake for 25 minutes or so more, until golden, puffed and set.  While still warm, brush with the maple syrup.  Best served warm, but also delicious cold, for breakfast!  Makes about 6 servings.  

Spiced Apple Cake with Salted Caramel Sauce

 

How many of you were lucky enough to trek to a nearby orchard and go apple picking?  The only picking I did was off the ground beneath my crabapple tree.  Gorgeous tree.  Love it.  But the apples are so tiny, and once you core them, there's really not that much apple left.  If I was not so lazy more industrious I guess I could have boiled a huge mess up and made applesauce or something.  But I said the same thing last year - that I'll do it this year - and my intentions are well meaning.  It's the follow-through that's a little lacking.

If only I had four more hours in the day. Two hours would go towards sleep, that's a given.  6:15 comes way too soon, and is highly unwelcome, and frankly makes me cranky.  One hour would go towards reading. There's a small stack of beautiful books on the bedside table, sadly collecting dust.  And the final hour would go towards all the stuff I say I'm going to do, but never get around to - like painting that spot in my bathroom, or refinishing that mirror, or knitting that rug I started a year ago.  Stuff like that. Yes, I need four more hours in my day.  Who do I talk to about that?

So the apples fell, and fell.  There was a two week stretch where my entire backyard smelled like some sort of rank apple liqueur.  Ah, rotting fruit.  I gathered up the fallen lot and dumped them into my vegetable garden, where I'm sure they are rotting away in all of their happy glory.  In the Spring they'll be churned up along with other compost material and their rotten glory will be mine!  (Insert evil cackle here.)

While I didn't pick the apples for this cake, I did buy them from the farmer's market, where the very kind vendor has an organic orchard not too far from here.  These are heirloom apples, and while I did write down the varieties, wouldn't you know I lost that slip of paper?  I'll have to get back to you on that one.  Delicious apples, these.  Not too sweet, with a perfect crispness that tastes like Fall as soon as you bite into one.

I'm all crazy for anything baked in cast iron. Plus the cake is simple and crazy delicious.  And really, it had me way back at salted caramel sauce.  That's probably why you've been reading this post, isn't it?  It's all about the salted caramel.  Two perfect words.

 

Whether you're planning a fancy dinner party, or having old friends over for tea, this cake is simple, straightforward and can easily be whipped up in 15 minutes.  The hardest part is peeling and chopping the apples, if that's any indicator of the skill level required.  Moist, and not too sweet, with lovely chunks of apple and the heavenly aromatics of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger, this cake is delicious warm, with ice cream, and of course the salted caramel. (I should also say that it's almost better cold, after some of the caramel has soaked into it overnight.  That was a happy discovery!)  Don't be afraid of making the caramel - there's nothing to it, and the rewards are so, so good.  So good that you'll want to lick out the saucepan when no one is looking, and heck, even if anyone sees you they'll understand.  It's salted caramel after all.  It casts a spell; one I happily and willingly fall under. 

Spiced Apple Cake

3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup butter, cubed at room temp
2 eggs
1 cup all purpose flour
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
2 cups chopped, peeled apples, cut a few for slices for top of cake

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.  Grease a 9 inch square cake pan, or go all rustic like I did and grease a cast iron skillet. Baked like a dream.
In a large bowl, beat together the sugar and butter until light.  Beat in the eggs, until all fluffy.  In a separate bowl, combine the dry ingredients.  Stir this into the batter along with chopped apples.  Spread into prepared pan.  Top cake with a few apples slices in centre.  Bake for 25-35 minutes, until cake springs back when lightly touched or when toothpick comes out clean.  Serve warm with salted caramel sauce, and ice cream, or whipped cream, if you like.  Serves 6.

Salted Caramel Sauce

1/4 cup butter, unsalted
1/2 cup  brown sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 tsp kosher salt (if using salted butter, decrease this amount a smidge)
1/2 cup 35% cream

Melt butter in saucepan over medium heat.  Add sugar. Bring to a boil, whisking occasionally.  Cook 3 min.  Stir in vanilla and salt until dissolved.  Remove from heat, let stand 1 min, then whisk in cream until smooth.  Makes one cup.  Adapted from Chatelaine, October 2011.

for Peter G. 

Orange Scented Quinoa Cereal with Maple Syrup & Pecans

 

I learned something new the other day:  quinoa is not just for salads, or pilafs, or side dishes of any kind.  I know what you're thinking though: quinoa for breakfast sounds kind of weird.  That's what I thought too when I first saw this recipe slide into my inbox.  But upon further perusing, I thought, well, why the hell not?  Especially when the quinoa is laden with maple syrup and cinnamon, oh and yeah, all of those glorious pecans.

Oatmeal is fabulous and fibre-rific.  We all know that.  But sometimes, it can be a little too, um, hearty?  Quinoa is light and yet so satisfying, and being the protein powerhouse that is, it's a nice way to shake up the ol' breakfast routine.  It doesn't have a lot of flavour of it's own, but will magically take on all of the loveliness you put with it.  Plus it's really fun to eat.  And breakfast should have a little fun factor to it. 

I've made breakfast quinoa a couple of times now, and I'm kind of hooked.  There's not a lot of stirring, which I appreciate, because I stir for a living, and sometimes a girl just has to give it a rest.  I love the whole simmer, cover and forget about it breakfast.  Just be sure to set your timer for 12 minutes - otherwise you'll have burnt quinoa, and I've done it.  Not pretty. 

I kind of love that you flavour the quinoa with vanilla and cinnamon and orange zest then nestle it into bowls. I'm having a torrid love affair with anything peach so of course slices of those beauties go on top.  If you don't have peaches or hate them, then substitute whatever has your fancy - apples or pears would be lovely right now or heck go wild and crazy and slice a banana on top.  Or go crazier and do it up with mangoes!  Give it a drizzle of maple syrup or a little honey, even brown sugar would do. Sprinkle with toasted pecans and add a splash of almond milk. A hot and healthy breakfast in under 20 minutes.  And you don't even have to stir that much.

See, not so weird after all.

Orange Scented Quinoa Cereal with Maple Syrup and Pecans

1 cup quinoa, rinsed thoroughly
1/2 tsp vanilla
zest of one orange
1 tsp cinnamon
2 peaches, sliced (or other fruit of your choosing)
4 tbsp maple syrup or honey or brown sugar
1/2 cup toasted pecan pieces (or other nuts)
almond milk, soy milk, or cow's milk.  whatever your preference

In a medium saucepan, bring water to boil.  Stir in the rinsed quinoa.  Bring back to a boil, cover, reduce heat and cook for 12 minutes, until tender.  Drain into a fine mesh strainer and put back into the pot. cover and let stand for 5 minutes.  Transfer into a large bowl and stir in the vanilla, orange zest and cinnamon.  Divide into bowls and garnish with fruit, maple syrup and nuts. Add a splash of milk.  The cooked quinoa will keep in the fridge, covered for a few days, so go ahead a make a large batch.  It's that good.  Serves 3-4.  Adapted from 20 minute Supper Club

Ginger & Vanilla Peach Upside Down Cake

Oh September.  You bittersweet month.  For someone who loves Summer as much as I do, I'm always a little verklempt when the ninth month rolls around.  I was never one of those kids to jump up and down, excited for school to start.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I know of a few occasions where I'd fake sick so I could stay home from school (Shhhhhh!  Don't tell my Mom!) trying to sneak in one last day of Summer holidays.  And not much has changed.  While I don't call in sick, I try to hang on,  just a little longer, to the best of Summer.  I know its  days are numbered, by the frosty mornings and changing light; the birds flying away and the impending fall TV schedule.

September is a month of transition.  A leaving-behind month.  A saying good-bye month to the best that Summer had to offer.  September is kind of like reading the best book you've read in a long time and knowing that it has to end, though you don't want it to. You savour every detail, knowing in the end you're going to have to let it go.  That's how September is for me.  My letting-go month.  The transition is made easier by starting a fun new class, and planning fall pot-luck parties.  I find the purchase of some tall suede boots (on order as we speak!) also makes for a smooth transition into the next season.

I was pulling a tomato plant out of the garden a few days ago, and caught one last whiff of that tomato leaf smell.  You know the one.  It smells of Summer.  Same with the sweet peas climbing the fence in my front yard.  I try to smell them every day - the last of the late bloomers.  I'm soaking up the last smells of Summer all around me.  And one of my favourites is of peaches - so impeccable when perfectly ripe, you can smell them from clear across the room. This tart touched on just how much I love peaches, and I think after you taste this cake, you'll fall for them just as badly as I have.

This cake is perfect seasonal transition food (but really, there is never a bad time to eat cake.)  The best of Summer's peaches are combined with aromatics of ginger and vanilla.  I've eaten baked a lot of cake in my little lifetime, but I don't think any have smelled quite like this one.  If you like ginger, you'll be happy to learn there are thinly sliced coins of it simmered with the peaches; both powdered and grated fresh ginger in the cake batter.  And the vanilla bean!  Sliced in half and scooped of it's goodness, well, it makes this cake, with the little bits of bean almost popping on your tongue. There's brown butter, brown sugar and the wee bit of whiskey (!!) to round things out.  So let's go over that again:  notes of ginger and vanilla, brown sugar and  brown butter, whiskey and cinnamon. And peaches.  Let us not forget the peaches.  You will love the smell of this in your kitchen.

There are a couple of steps to this cake, but definitely worth the effort.  Once you invert it on to a pretty platter, and see the warm golden glow of the peaches, (this cake even looks like fall!), you'll be happy you did. I left the vanilla bean halves in with the peaches, just to add some drama when inverted, but don't eat them.  The sliced coins of ginger add a lovely bite, but you can pick them out if you so desire, or if you aren't a ginger freak like me.  I ate the cake warm (with ice cream!) and cold (for breakfast!) and was in love with every bite.  I may be a little sad to see Summer go, but with a cake like this, new episodes of America's Next Top Model and my tall suede boots, I think me and Autumn will get along just fine.

Ginger and Vanilla Peach Upside Down Cake

Peaches:
2 tbsp butter
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 inch fresh, peeled ginger, sliced into thin coins
pinch of salt
1 vanilla bean, sliced in half lengthwise, seeds scraped out (if not using vanilla bean, use 1 tsp pure vanilla extract)
3 tbsp whiskey (I used the last bit at the bottom of my rye bottle)
1 pound of fresh, ripe peaches, sliced (I left the peel on and it was fine!)

Cake:
8 tbsp butter
1 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/3 cup buttermilk
1 1/2 tsp grated fresh ginger

In a skillet, over low heat, cook together the butter, brown sugar, ginger, salt, vanilla, whiskey and peaches, until the juices thicken like maple syrup.  If the peaches are quite soft and start to break up, remove them and thicken the juices on their own.  Takes about 12 minutes or so.  Pour into a 8 inch square baking dish.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

To make the cake, melt the 8 tbsp butter over low heat, until it turns a caramel colour.  Strain this into the bowl of a mixer.  Discard solids. Let the brown butter cool for a bit.  Combine the dry ingredients in another bowl and set aside.  Beat together the brown butter, brown sugar and vanilla with the paddle attachment.   Add one egg at a time, scraping bowl between additions.  Alternate adding the dry ingredients with the buttermilk, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients.  Add the grated fresh ginger and pour this on top of the peach mixture, smoothing with a spatula.  Bake for about 30 minutes.  While still warm, invert cake onto platter.  Serves 6.