Must Be Karma

Ever think there are some things that are just "meant to be"?

Bad things sure, like when you get a speeding ticket while you were trying to make up for being late, or letting your kids have that "one last candy" only to have them bouncing off the walls and fighting each other for a long drive home. But good things can be meant to be too. Good things like how buying an acquaintance a cup of coffee can lead into a weekly ritual and a blossoming best friendship, or how a simple smile becomes a laugh and infects all those around you. I'm a firm believer in doing nice things for others, particularly those that deserve it but also the ones that haven't quite received their come-uppance yet. It took me a long time, but eventually I realized that by treating those people that abused their situations badly I was doing nothing more than stooping to their level. Call it maturity if you will - I call it the bumpy learning curve of life. Enough people have helped me out in my life without asking for nor expecting anything in return that when I sense the opportunity to give back a tiny bit I try to make it happen.

Most of the people who directly impact the direction of my life's wanderings happen to be in the medical field, but there are a few special gems out there who for me an appointment is almost like a visit with them instead. One, my RMT, is a bona fide foodie at heart who taste tests everything I've thrown at him, listens to my aimless ramblings (as you all do here!) and shares his band White Noise Conspiracy's  incredible, unreleased songs with me. So when I was at my massage therapy appointment a few weeks back and my RMT mentioned he and his girlfriend were craving the "Sweet Karma" snaps from ShaSha but hadn't been able to find them in years, I was immediately interested in a "clone" attempt. Except for one thing - I had no idea what the heck Sweet Karma snaps were. I (of course) knew ShaSha's baking company, and their line of spelt-flour cookies in general, but not those specific ones. So I did a little digging, and discovered the answer to the mystery - swirled snaps, using both the Company's whole grain ginger and cocoa doughs in a marble of flavourful goodness.

Hm. Cocoa dough, no problem. Gingersnaps, easy. But marbling dough? How the heck would I do that? I struggle at the best of times making icebox sugar cookies, and all I could think of was to stack the doughs side by side, cut super-thin slices and cut out the shapes from those. Until - da da da daaaa! - the happy karma gods smiled on me by pointing me along to Zoom Yummy and Petra's recipe for "cookie lollipops". She had a spectacularly detailed play-by-play of how she marbled the dough, and I figured there was no better way I could think of that would look that good in the end!

It was remarkably simple, I have to admit, once I had both doughs made and chilled. The tricky bit was getting the final dough rolled to the right thickness, which is something I always struggle with when it comes to cut-out cookies. I knew it would have to be quite thin, thinner than standard cookie dough, to get the crisp "snap" texture right. But it had to be thick enough to not burn on the sheets in the heat of the oven. I settled on about 1/8" after a half-sheet of quarter-inch cutouts spread too much. A few batches in I realized that the best looking biscuits were ones I had chilled, rolled, cut out and frozen on parchment lined (rather than SilPatted) sheets, so I finished up the four-hour experiment by stashing trays of tiny heart cut-outs in our deep freezer, baking them the next morning.

Now, the cookie recipe I used stated it made 30 standard-sized cookies. But I made minis, so I knew there would be more, and I figured on about double to triple the yield depending on what the original author had used as a cutter for their snaps. I wound up with more. A lot more.

So all in all, how many cookies did I make out of that one batch of dough?

Yup. 334. You need a ton of tiny cookies? You got em. Share 'em around and earn some good (sweet) karma for yourself!

Mini Marbled Snaps

Be careful when "marbling" the dough - you don't want to take it too far because then the whole thing turns into one colour.

Makes 330(ish)

3/4 cup salted butter

3/4 cup sugar
2 tbsp fancy molasses
1/4 cup honey
1 ½ cups whole spelt flour
1 ½ tsp ground ginger
½ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp cloves

½ tsp nutmeg

3 tbsp dark cocoa powder

1 tbsp water

1. Combine butter, sugar, molasses and honey in a saucepan and melt together, stirring to prevent burning. Remove from heat.
2. Stir in the flour and divide dough into two separate bowls.
3. To one bowl of dough, stir in ginger, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg, stirring well to combine.
4. To the other bowl add the cocoa powder and water, mixing well to combine.
5. Cover dough in plastic wrap and chill 2 hours.
6. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.
7. On a plastic-lined countertop, roll out a third of one portion of the dough to about 1/4" thickness.
8. On another floured surface, roll out 1/3 of the other portion of dough to 1/4" thickness (keep remaining dough in the fridge).
9. Transfer the dough on the plastic wrap to the top of the other dough and press lightly to adhere the two sheets.
10. Gently gather the doughs into a ball and re-roll into a 1/8", marbled-looking sheet (you may have to lightly knead it to marble, don't do it too much!).
11. Cut out cookies using a miniature cookie cutter or fondant cutter. Freeze trays 30 minutes - 1 hour.
12. Repeat rolling/marbling/cutting/chilling process for the remaining dough (doing three batches ensures it stays cold and won't require as much re-rolling).
13. Preheat oven to 350F.
14. Bake for 12 minutes. Cool on the sheets, set on a cooling rack, for 30 minutes before transfering the parchment to the racks and cooling completely.

Amount Per Cookie

Calories: 9.6
Total Fat: 0.4 g
Cholesterol: 1.1 mg
Sodium: 3.1 mg
Total Carbs: 1.4 g
Dietary Fiber: 0.1 g
Protein: 0.1 g

Going Grainy: Honeyed-Raisin Corn Bread

Corn in general gets a bad rap in the culinary world - it's the butt of "seniors" jokes, the pallid, over-processed, out of season cobs in the store, the ubiquitous creator of dishes named "mush" and of course the base of muffins and breads that all too often are either sandpapery-dry or drenched with butter or bacon grease. Not that there's anything wrong with some butter or bacon grease, mind you. But it's true that it's almost impossible to dig the grain out of it's carby hole - which goes double if you've been following the whole HFCS thing, and triple if you're an Atkins fan.

But corn - and more importantly cornbread, can be good! Heck, it can even be great - moist without being oily, textured without grittiness, and the perfect balance of sweet and savoury "bready" flavours. I've adopted the habit of adding a touch of cornmeal to my yeast doughs, which not only add a hint of crunch (and make for beautiful toast!) but a buttery golden colour too. For this particular loaf of bread, I added a second corn element with some toasted corn germ that I found at the local Bulk Barn. Then I played off the subtly sweet, nutty mix of the two "corns" with a drizzle of local honey, and studded the works with plump dark raisins. I didn't even think to break out the sourdough starter for this one, though perhaps I should have (it needs a workout!). No matter, though - a nice, long overnight rest in the fridge helped give it a bit of character nonetheless!

If you're worried about the loaf being dry at all (really, you shouldn't be, but hey who am I to be your brain?) the secret to a decadent, meltingly soft crust is to brush some good old fashioned melted butter on the thing while it's still piping hot and in the pan. And about the pan - keep it in there for a good half hour to cool instead of turning it out right away. But I warn you - you'll be ripping into the loaf with your bare hands that way rather than slicing it for toast. Either way, I hope you enjoy this week's submission to Susan's YeastSpotting event at WildYeast!

Honeyed-Raisin Corn Bread
Makes 1 loaf, 16 slices
1/2 cup warm water
1 package active dry yeast
3 tbsp honey
1 cup warm, 1% milk
2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1/4 cup corn germ
1/4 cup cornmeal
1 tbsp vital wheat gluten
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup raisins, soaked in hot water and drained

1. In a large bowl or bottom of a standing mixer, stir together warm water, yeast and 1 tbsp of honey. Set aside to let foam for 10 minutes.
2. Add remaining honey and milk, mixing well.
3. Stir in flours, corn germ, corn meal and gluten.
4. Knead for 10 minutes, then add salt and knead for 3 minutes longer.
5. Place into an oiled bowl, cover and allow to rise for 1 hour.
6. Deflate dough and gently knead in plumped raisins.
7. Re-cover and allow to rest 15 minutes.
8. Shape dough into a loaf and place in a greased loaf pan.
9. Cover lightly with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for 12 hours.
10. Preheat oven to 350F and remove loaf from the fridge 1 hour before baking.
11. Bake loaf 45 minutes, covering the top lightly with foil after 30 minutes.
12. Unmould immediately onto a wire rack and cool completely.

Amount Per Serving
Calories: 150.4
Total Fat: 0.7 g
Cholesterol: 0.8 mg
Sodium: 10.1 mg
Total Carbs: 32.5 g
Dietary Fiber: 2.3 g
Protein: 4.9 g

A Plethora of Pretty Pickles

I am a vinegar addict. Thinking about the mass amount of the stuff I consume not only in it's natural, liquidy state but also in foods and condiments, I could probably keep the industry in business. Or not. I assume it's a pretty big business, given the French fry / potato chip popularity out there. Usually I'm getting my "sour fix" via one of two items - mustard (any kind - we have 4!) or pickles. As a kid, I would regularly ask for my hot dogs or burgers with "just mustard", extra pickles and tomato. Maybe lettuce and onion, if it was on offer, but always mustard and pickles! Clearly, both have been dear loves of mine forever (you may recall my earlier pickle (and pepper)-obsession post), but it was only last year that I branched out into actually making my own pickles.

Good thing, too... because I also planted dill and cucumbers that year, and though neither crop actually took hold, the delicious, super-ripe cukes I scored from the Brick Works farmers market downtown were more than sufficient. Either way, it was an opportunity to dip my toes into the world of preserving the harvest without resorting to mass freezing, and the copius amounts of another favourite - garlic - didn't hurt matters at all!

I did go a tad bit overboard this year, although in a sense I had to (yes, the excuses reign supreme). I replanted the cucumbers and dill this year, not really knowing if I'd face the same climate-related issues as last year. As always, I dug in my heirloom tomatoes, purple carrots and candy-cane beets, as well as picking up a new veggie to try: watermelon radishes! Well, lo and behold, every freaking thing I planted (excepting my groundcherries... *sob*) took hold like nothing else. All of a sudden, the radish greens were the size of lettuces, the beets were crowding and the dill was as high as my shoulder. And can we talk about the cucumbers?? Holy moley, in just my 4 plants (the stepdad has 4 of "his" ones that he can let over-ripen to his heart's content), in one harvest session, I scored just under 11 pounds of them. All ready at once. What would you have done? I wasn't about to let them get the "zucchini treatment" where you can allow them to balloon as big as your leg and drop the flavourless log on a neighbour's porch. I wanted to taste my cukes. Enjoy them. In the best way I knew how, which also happens to be the best keeping way I knew how. Yup, you guessed it - it was pickle time again!

I decided to do two different styles of cucumber pickle this year, both because I lacked the resources and the energy to take care of everything at once, and I wanted to be mindful of the storage space I'd have to allocate to whatever I made. So I started with the easier, faster ones first - refrigerator cured, deliciously garlicky and definitely dilly (you can shoot me for the corny alliterations later). Those beauties took up four litres or so, and have found suitable "aging" space in the back of our basement's fridge. But really - the fridge is full enough as it is down there (especially after a shopping trip) and since I had both jars and equipment for canning (finally got a jar lifter!) I figured I would do the rest of the batch as canned dills and store them in our cantina. For the canned ones, I added a good deal more garlic, like vampire-repellent amounts, and also spiked the jars with chili peppers, mustard seed and turmeric. I'm not sure where I read it, but I knew that grape leaves helped keep canned pickles crunchy (and possibly it's a memory of my grandma's ones that had that element). Problem is, grape leaves aren't exactly in the produce aisle at the Superstore, nor are they usually on hand at the farmer's market. So if you really wanted to source them, you'd have to find a vineyard willing to part with a few.

Oh wait - we have a vinyard! If nothing else, thank goodness for my stepdad's green thumb - he can make pretty much anything grow, even lemons and killer eggplant, and apart from having "fruiting" zucchini so far this year I have to give him credit - his success rate is pretty good. So boo-yeah for grape leaves! Did I ask? Are you nuts? No way, these were pilfered. Unabashedly. And it's not like he's going to be eating tany of them anyway, so who needs to know?

That left my harvest basket with a small handful of baby beets I thinned out, a few carrots and a good haul of (very) large radishes. The radish greens, a request by Mr. Foodie411 himself, I blanched and froze in a Ziploc, and while pondering the fate of the bulbs (and staring at the jars of cooling dills) it hit me. Pickled radishes are delicious in their own right - think takuan at sushi restaurants, while the beets and carrots added a gorgeous colour and a pop of earthy sweetness. I opted to go the sweet/sour route this time, with Asian rice vinegar, and layered in thin-sliced fresh ginger too - another of my favourite sushi noshes (I always ask for extra).

So now I've eliminated the glut of pickle-able goodness for another week or so. Good thing I a) have so many great friends willing to take jars off my hands and b) I can eat through a jar myself every few weeks!

All I Can Say Is...

LOL.

Thanks to Gilding Calm for sharing this, and to Huffington Post for posting the YouTube vid!

A Bittah Bettah Buttah

How can I possibly describe these things? I mean, really... just saying that they're "Black Bottomed Banana Bars" would be doing the whole shebang a major disservice. They are so much more than that - and as anyone who's ever indulged in a peanut butter, Nutella and banana sandwich knows (what... that's just me? You HAVE to try it!), somewhere in that simple marriage of ingredients a spark of magic happens. The ingredients no longer define themselves as parts of a whole. They are the whole. When the balance of each element is spot-on, not the hardest thing in the world mind you, bitter, salt, sweet and creamy notes hit your tongue at exactly the same time, and it can blow you away. Trust me.

Oddly enough, even though I do have the original source of the recipe I worked off of (a Taste of Home magazine published in April / May 1994), I have no idea as to what sparked me to look it up in my ancient cache of magazine clippings. I know I'd spotted it on a few blogs, and probably have an electronic copy saved somewhere now, but regardless I've made a few changes to the original. For one, I halved the recipe. Anyone who knows this household knows we have a bit of a penchant for chocolate, peanut butter and bananas. The second thing I did was decrease the sugar a tad... nothing new in this kitchen. The last thing was the kicker - and I swear what sealed the fate of these bars forever. I added  a little bit of a bettah buttah. Yes... smooth, unctuous peanut butter got to play the game, in more ways than one! I chopped up some peanuts for the "blonde" top layer too, finally crowning the whole pan off with a mess of the best legal crack (IMHO) there is - diced, miniature peanut butter cups. The cups made the top of the bars look like the surface of the moon before they baked, like skyscrapers poking up from and into the raw dough.

But after? Well, all I can say is, look. And drool. Because every time you bite into one of those little craters of molten, peanutty decadence, it's like you're discovering a motherlode of diamonds. Over and over again.

Bettah Buttah Banana Bars

Serves 12

3 tbsp butter, softened

2 tbsp peanut butter

1/3 cup sugar

1 tsp vanilla

3 large, over-ripe bananas, mashed

3/4 cup flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 cup baking cocoa

1/4 cup chopped peanuts

10 miniature peanut butter cups, chopped

1. Preheat oven to 350F, grease an 8" square pan.
2. In a bowl, beat butter, peanut butter and sugar until fluffy.
3. Add vanilla and bananas, beating well.
4. Mix together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add to the creamed mixture, blending gently but thoroughly.
5. Divide batter in half.
6. To one portion of dough, add cocoa and stir in thoroughly.
7. To the other portion of dough, fold in chopped peanuts.
8. Spread chocolate batter in the bottom of the prepared pan. Top with peanut batter and sprinkle with peanut butter cups.
9. Bake for 25-30 minutes.
10. Cool completely in the pan before cutting.

Amount Per Serving

Calories: 171.8

Total Fat: 8.0 g

Cholesterol: 8.1 mg

Sodium: 33.3 mg

Total Carbs: 24.4 g

Dietary Fiber: 2.1 g

Protein: 3.8 g