Pumpkin and Cinnamon Fun, or Alice's Tea Cup the Sequel

We loved the Alice's Teacup cookbook recipe for my lemon blueberry birthday cake so much that I just new I needed to make a few other recipes.

First up, Pumpkin scones! One of my bosses decided to go back to teaching and for his last usual friday meeting, we surprised him with breakfast. I made these:

They were good, don't get me wrong, but after the awesomeness of that first cake, I was expecting a bit more. They were overly bland for my taste and the caramel glaze that they recommend for the drizzle didn't really pair well with the pumpkin, in my opinion. They were much improved by a quick batch of homemade frosting, which I spread on right over the caramel glaze.

Not the best. And for all the work and special ingredients required, I wouldn't bother with this one.

Instead of a second batch of pumpkin scones, due to this dilemma, I made a nice batch of pumpkin cookies, my favorite cookie recipe by far. And because of the pumpkin, they are almost like eating your vegetables at dessert.

In a classic move of redemption through, Alice's Teacup redeemed themselves with their Cinnascone recipe, which I made because once you have buttermilk and heavy cream in the house from making bland pumpkin scones, you might as well try to make these. They were time consuming to make, but oh so good and fun. You mix all the ingredients and form a dough, which you then roll out. Then, you make the cinnamony center and slather it on the rolled out dough before rolling it up lengthwise (think hotdog rather than hamburger bun) and cutting the result up into the scones and baking them.

What really makes these shine is the almond extract. If there's anything better than a cinnamon pastry, it's a cinnamon pastry that also tastes like an almond cookie. I've since made them a second time and learned a secret trick to make them turn out better (I had some trouble with the cinnamon paste running out of the dough while I was trying to roll the scones up. Slather the paste on the dough and then let it sit a few minutes, preferably with a ceiling fan running overhead, to let the paste solidify a bit better rolling. It worked like a charm.

And nothing does monday right like sitting at my work cubicle desk with a mug of hot chocolate coffee (decaf, no worries) and a nice almondy cinnascone.

Hickory Syrup

My mother-in-law knows that my husband and I appreciate locally made and manufactured foodstuffs (and nonfoodstuffs for that matter, as our Libbey glass dishware can attest). That is why our Christmas gift from her included a gift basket of locally made cheese, chocolate, baked goods, and beverages. It was probably one of the best Christmas presents I've ever received in the way that it was so catered to our tastes. It went over so well that, for his birthday, my husband received a bottle of Soaring Hill Hickory Syrup from a shop in Tecumseh, MI.

The company is located in Adrain, MI, in the city where my husband I met and went to undergraduate school together. I have a lot of good times bottled up in Adrian, and I had high hopes for this sugary concoction. Thus, when a weekend morning of leisure breakfasting presented itself (and those aren't easy to come by), the pancakes were made and all three of us--the husband, the son, and I-- all sat down for a taste test.

Neither of us had ever tasted hickory syrup before and we were a little skeptical. According to the label, hickory syrup is not tapped as maple syrup is. Rather, hickory bark is boiled with sugar to produce a syrup consistency. I was hoping that even if it didn't taste all that great as a syrup, we could use it as a marinade for tofu or tempeh or even ham or chicken for the boys.

All that worry was for nought, though, because hickory syrup is smooth and sweet and tangy and delightful. It's sweetness is light, while the hickory taste gives it depth and interest. Best of all, this treat comes with a ecological stamp of approval. If syrup wasn't slow enough drizzling from bottle to plate, this locally-made, small-business-created syrup is slow food at its best. I hope that you too will consider keeping Soaring Hill in business. I know I plan on doing my part.

The Perfect Pancake

For Christmas, my best friend/cousin bought us this ridiculously amazing gift basket from Godiva. It was a breakfast gift basket (or bowl rather, as it was all inside a mixing bowl) that included fancy blueberry jam, Godiva chocolates, Govida chocolate chips, scone mix, and pancake mix from someplace called Bette's Oceanview Diner.

It was seriously the best pancake mix I have ever had, so we looked up more on this Bette's place. What do you know, they have a cookbook. An amazing cookbook of pancake portions. Sure enough, that mix we received has a from-scratch recipe equivalent. The book is called, oddly enough, "The Pancake Handbok: Specialties from Bette's Oceanview Diner."

When my man was mixing the batter for those same pancakes (only better because they were fresher), he read that one should try individualizing each pancake with a variety of ingredients you might have on hand: chips of various flavors, grains, dried fruit, even veggies. He started gathering materials. By the time I got there, everything was set for me to get started. (I am the master pancake flipper in this house. The pancakes are unanimously voted as my job.) To create each pancake as an individual thing, instead of adding the extras into the batter, you pour the batter on the griddle and add the extras to the top of the cooking cake. 

I used bittersweet chips, butterscotch chips, mint chips, dried cherries, oats, wheat bran, peanuts, strawberry slices, banana slices, and one solitary candy corn pumpkin. Each pancake was its own thing. No two ended up the same, and that amounted to quite a bit of variety at the dinner table.

So simple, but such a good idea. Pancakes will never be the same at this house again. To think it all began with one generous christmas present and Godiva chocolate.

I made breakfast last night.

It happened, the thing I fear above all other things, the thing that sends me screaming to the grocery store when there is no sale on kellogg or General Mills or Kashi. Yes, it happened. I ran out of cereal mid-week.

I considered tearing out my hair. I considered spending my lunch hour at the Dave's downtown running up and down the cereal aisle comparing the prices of various raisin brans. Instead, I got ambitious. I decided to open up my recipe box, flip to the breakfast tab, and get cooking. What I found was a recipe I'd loved from years ago and had promptly forgotten about.

Baked Faux-Toaster Pastries

What you need:

1 c. whole white wheat flour (or 3/4 c whole wheat plus 1/4 c unbleached flour)
1 stick of butter/margarine (or 1/2 c of your favorite butterish alternative)
1/4 c water
Jam (as much or as little as you want but a little goes a long way)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease yourself a jellyroll pan. The jellyroll part is important, because if you are like me and end up overstuffing your pastries in your enthusiasm, you want a rim on the pan on catch any run-away filling.

2. In a small bowl, cut the butter into the flour with a fork. Add the water as you go. It will be a lot like mashing potatoes after awhile. When the flour becomes doughy enough to form a ball, do so and knead it around a bit to make sure there are no large clumps of butter in there. You want it roughly uniform. Separate that one ball of dough into four equal balls.

3. On a floured surface, roll out one of the balls into a rectangle as thick or as thin as you want. On the bottom half of that rectangle, add a thin layer of jam, leaving at lead 1/4th of an inch at the edges clean of jam. I used strawberry for two and blueberry for the other two, but any variety will do. Fold the top half over onto the bottom half. With that same fork from before, crimp the edges of the top half into the edges of the bottom half to seal the pastry. Place the pastry onto the jolly roll pan.

4. Repeat step 3 for the remaining balls of dough. If you, like me, enjoy a variety of jam flavors, remember to give each a distinguishing mark so you can tell which is which, unless, of course, you really like surprises.

5. Bake in the preheated oven for about 12 minutes. My stove takes less time than others, so you might need to put it in longer. They should come out vaguely golden brown. If some of the jam seeps out, because you too are an enthusiastic jam stuffer, fear not. It will come off in the wash.

I used this excellent blueberry jam that has tiny whole blueberries in it for two of mine and your standard Smuckers strawberry for the other two.

Of course, if you, like me, are planning to make these puppies ahead of time, just put them all on a plate with plastic wrap separating each one and pop them in the frig. Then, in the morning, you simply nuke one in the microwave for 45 seconds. Add a drizzle of honey if you like your pop-tarts frosted. Leave plain if you prefer your pop-tarts unfrosted.

These were even better than I remembered them. The jam is sweet but with a taste that just seems less fake-tasting than your boxed toaster pastry, due to the actual fruit content. The other plus, you know how there's those parts at the top and bottom of the pop-tart where there's no filling and the crust tastes, in a word, nasty? Nonexistent in a homemade version. The crust is simple, a little plain even, but it's enjoyable alone. Not that you have to worry. That little bit of jam will find a way to coat everything.

Buttermilk White Whole Wheat Flour Pancakes

There was a slight problem in our frig. A carton of buttermilk, purchased for some baking purpose my loves-to-bake man decided against only after collecting all the ingredients. Buttermilk. Yeah. Thick, heavy, ugh-I'm-not-drinking-that-plain buttermilk. What's a girl to do? Why, make pancakes of course.

(Pictured here with a light drizzling of honey, the under-used, but equally as delicious as syrup, pancake topping)

The other problem was there are a lot of buttermilk pancake recipes out there, and I do mean A LOT. All of them are oddly very different in what goes in to the batter and how much. I went to a source I knew I could trust, taste of home. Their buttermilk pancakes seemed to fit the bill, and they were very good overall, a nice even batter, not to thin, not to thick. Nice fluffy pancakes. There's really not much to say about a pancake recipe other than is it a successful pancake recipe, and I have tried out some terrible pancake recipes. I'm thinking of one in particular, a sesame pancake one, that was supposed to be pancake batter but was so thin it came out all crepes.

True, it is no surprise that taste of home would pick a solid buttermilk pancake recipe, and I must say, I didn't know I could really enjoy a buttermilk pancake. I did, and aside from the fact that the recipe required 4 cups of buttermilk and our carton contained only slightly over 3 cups (I substituted the last 3/4 c with regular milk), I had no trouble at all making these tasty breakfast treats. The surprise wasn't with the recipe, the surprise was in the ingredients. You see, I didn't make all-purpose flour buttermilk pancakes.

I made these babies with white whole wheat flour.

What is white whole wheat flour, you ask? Why, it is a flour made from white whole wheat, an albino form of wheat with no bran coloration and a very mellow taste. It is whole grain wheat in a flour without the hassle of trying to stuff dry, gritty, "funny colored" bread down a loved-one's throat. I love whole wheat. I love the grittiness. I love how it has a taste. I love it's density, but my white-flour-loving spouse and child disagree on this point. When I make things with flour that the whole family is supposed to eat, I have to make it as a compromised mix of whole wheat and white flour. It has some taste and some whole grain without the full bite of a just whole wheat outcome. And that, my friends, is exactly what white whole wheat flour tastes like. Except it is entirely whole grain. It's the whole package. It's too good to be true, and yet, I have buttermilk pancakes sitting right on a plate that confirm it is, in fact, true.

(Pictured here with a more dessert-ish strawberry jam and confectioner's sugar topping)

Sometimes you really can have it all. These pancakes were rich and delicious and flavorful but not whole wheat flavorful, and they were 100% grade A certified whole grain. The kid loved them, as did the adults.

Add a side of eggs with ribbons of kale and this is a full meal that hits all the nutritional bases, whole grain, protein, fruit (hey jam counts), and veggies. Not to shabby for a last minute breakfast.

Baked "Fried" Green Tomatoes (with accompanying omelet)

So, it happened. Finally, I get those first red tomatoes, those bright, shiny fire-engine beauties I've been waiting for since I shelled out the two-bucks-a-pop for tomato cages this spring. I recall clearly walking briskly back and forth between the tomato tables at the greenhouse (partly from excitement and partly because I had a cup of tea right before I left the apartment and I really had to pee). I read those little cards about each variety of plant, absent-mindedly stroking each tiny leaf. This one has low acidity. That one will be yellow with pink stripes. These over here, they bloom early.

The early-bloomers started to turn a few weeks ago, and I picked one early and watched it turn full-on purple-red on my mother's kitchen window ledge. The rest were a while in coming though. Admittedly, the events that are about to be described happened last week. In my tumult of over-booked activity, I have accrued a large stack of recipes next to the computer, taunting me with their unblogged-about smugness.

We were at the garden, a small plot at the far right corner of an episcopal churchyard. I was weeding. Art was watering. Garet, due to some strange juvenile need to be squirrelly, was planting a pine cone happily into the dirt beside a copse of coniferous trees... or at least, he called it a pine cone. That's when I spotted it: the first red Beefsteak. Eagerly, one-handed, I plucked the tender fruit from its vine and snap, the two adjacent green tomatoes beside it came too. I held them up mournfully to Art, and then, in a sudden spark of genius, I announced, "I could make fried green tomatoes."

Fried Green Tomatoes. It's a movie title I know well. In my youth, I was blessed with very overprotective parents who did not allow the viewing of movies until you had reached the age deemed appropriate for viewing by whatever lunatic organization that rates movies. My siblings and I contented ourselves with the meager movie options by repeatedly watching beloved movies over and over again. When my brother watched Forest Gump three times a day, I must admit, I grew tired of it, but I never lost my love, ever, for Fried Green Tomatoes. Perhaps it was the cultural significance. Perhaps it was the underlying lesbian implications. I like to think it was the food.

I never so much as tasted a fried green tomato before, but watching them sizzling in the diner pans of the Whistle Stop Cafe made me pine for them. Now, I had my chance. I googled, and found this site, run by a follow Michigander Katie, for nonfried green tomatoes. Here, I could fry my tomatoes and bake them too!

Baked Fried Green Tomatoes

What you need:

2/3 c bread crumbs

1 T Grated Parmesan Cheese

1 tsp cayenne pepper

1 T cumin

1/2 tsp salt

2 eggs, beaten (or the egg beaters equivalent)

2 green tomatoes

The logic of this is similar to what you do to bread the eggplant in this recipe.

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Put the bread crumbs, parmesan, cayenne, cumin, and salt in one bowl. Mix. Put the egg in a second bowl.

2. Cut up the green tomatoes into thin, round slices.

3. Submerge a slice of tomato into the egg. Then, press both sides, alternately, into the bread crumb mixture for a light coat. Recoat in egg. Then, recoat both sides of slice in bread crumbs. Place slice on a tin-foiled baking sheet.

4. Cont. the same process for each tomato slice until all are coated and on the cookie sheet. Place the cookie sheet in the oven for 20 minutes. Flip the slices and return them to the oven for another 10-20 minutes. Serve.

As an added bonus, the leftover egg makes a lovely omelet, if cooked in a small skillet on low heat. Add an optional slice of cheese, if desired.

These nonfried beauties have opened my midwestern eyes to the possibilities of southern cooking. Each breaded slice resulted in a taste combination that was both complex and enjoyable. The tomato was tangy with a bittersweet edge to it that was nicely complimented by the earthly taste of cumin and the subtle fiery finish of the cayenne. I'm usually not a fan of a lot of heat in my food but it was just spicy enough. Luckily for me, if my weak taste buds became too overburdened with heat, I had a nice egg and cheese palette-cleanser right there on my plate.

Blendy Fun

In the heat of this summer, my blender has been getting a lot of use. For starters, rather than hot coffee or tea, I've been alternating between ice water with a mint green tea bag in it and my own recipe for a mocha frappe.

Mocha frappe
(for a nonMocha frappe, I'd imagine you'd just neglect to put in the chocolate)
1/3 c double strength coffee, cold
1 1/2 T raw sugar
1/2 c vanilla soy milk
1 c ice
1T chocolate syrup

Stuff in a blender and hit frappe.

Come to think of it, I could probably figure out a tasty mint green tea frappe if I thought hard enough.

But the frappe was an afterthought really. Because recently, the blender has already been dirty, as I have given my first "French Women Don't Get Fat" recipe, Magical Breakfast Cream, or MBC. If you'd like to try MBC. It's a mixture of plain yogurt, ground cereal, and nuts, among other things. The problem I rediscovered while making MBC: I really don't like dairy in its pure form. I've never liked plain milk and I'm not a big fan of sour cream. Moreover, I hate the taste of plain yogurt. It's so... dairy tasting. This was a taste that MBC failed to mask, so, as I'm often prone to doing, rather than can the recipe as a waste, I Kate-ified it.

And what resulted, while being very close to the original recipe, switches out citrus for strawberry, making it a tasty strawberries and cream concoction I can get behind. Moreover, with the almonds and oats added to the mix, the resulting taste has a touch of what I can only describe as "Almond Cookie" or "Bearclaw" tasting. And if there's one desert I love as much as strawberry shortcake, it's almond-anything.

Almond-Cookie Strawberry Breakfast Smoothie
 2T oats
2 t sliced raw almonds
1/2 c. plain greek yogurt
1 t flaxseed oil
2 T Berry-variety 100% juice (I had Pomegranate-Blueberry V8 fusion on hand)
1 t 100% maple syrup
1 t honey
4 frozen strawberries (if using fresh, add ice)

1. Put oats and almonds in blender. Grind to powder.

2. Add yogurt, juice, syrup, honey, and strawberries. Puree.

3. Drink and be amazed at the undercurrents of cookie pleasure... without the cookie. Not only that but it's really healthy.