Un-Schweddy Balls

Nearly everyone has seen the infamous SNL sketch. This year, I made these cookies as gifts for family and friends, layered between waxed paper in decorative containers. Larry's little girls really like these, in spite of the "healthy" quotient. Their mama has the container in the freezer and has been doling them out as treats. She asked me for the recipe, which was impromptu, but here goes: 2/3 stick unsalted butter, softened but not melted; 1 cup coconut sugar (or use medium or dark brown sugar); 1 egg; 1 tsp. vanilla; 1/2 tsp. sea salt; 1 T. plus 1 tsp. agave syrup. Cream together. Zest 1 mandarin orange without white pithy part, or equivalent amount regular grated orange peel; squeeze juice into mixture. Use half the juice if it's a large orange. Mix all until ingredients are blended and a bit fluffier. Sift dry ingredients: 2/3 cup unbleached flour; 1/3 cup coconut flour; 1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour (whole wheat is okay; pastry flour has less gluten); 1/2 tsp. cinnamon; 1/3 tsp. ground ginger; 1/4 tsp. cloves; 1/3 tsp. freshly ground nutmeg. Add to creamed butter/coconut sugar mixture and stir. Add: 2/3 cup quick oats; 1/2 tsp. baking soda; 1 tsp. baking powder It should be a fairly stiff, sticky dough. Add: 1/3 cup dried cranberries (I used Trader Joe's orange-flavored, but regular are okay); 1/3 cup dried blueberries; 1/2 cup chopped pecans; 1/2 cup bulk coconut (fine shreds). Incorporate dried fruit and coconut into rest of ingredients and let dough sit about 20 minutes, as the coconut flour and dried fruits will absorb some of the moisture. Preheat oven to 350. Form into 2" to 2.5" balls using your hands. If the dough is too dry to hold together easily, add a little juice or milk. If you prefer flatter cookies, flatten with a wet glass bottom or fork. (I like the round shape because they are a little denser and creamier in the middle and the dried fruit doesn't get as hard in the oven.) Space the balls on a half sheet or cookie sheet lined with parchment paper and sprayed lightly (I use coconut spray, which adds another layer of coconut flavor). Bake about 15 minutes, or until the outside surface and coconut start to turn a little brown. If they were flattened, it will be about 12 minutes or so. Cool before stacking or putting in a cookie jar. To be really decadent, these could be dipped in melted semi-sweet chocolate.

Eggplant & Tofu in Black Bean Garlic Sauce

This is an approximation of what I used to get at Thanh Thao on Hawthorne in Portland, Oregon. I'm not good at exact measurements, but this is pretty close. I use my toaster oven as part of the process. Cube one medium Italian egglant or two smaller Asian thin eggplants, salt, and let the chunks sit about 15-20 minutes. Dab with a towel to remove excess moisture, and spread the chunks on an aluminum foil-lined and oiled baking tray. Spray chunks lightly with a neutral oil, then put them under the broiler. When one side picks up some color, turn the pieces and broil them some more. (The best way to pre-cook the eggplant is to do larger slices on a grill, where it picks up some char and grill marks, then cube.) You're not cooking the eggplant until it's done at this stage. Hold the chunks for a minute while you: Heat 2 T. peanut oil (or other oil with a high temperature threshold) in a wok. Throw in the same size chunks of about half a tub of very firm tofu, cubed and drained. Add the chopped white part of two green onions, saving the green for later, and gently stir fry at high heat with 2 cloved chopped garlic, 1 tsp. toasted sesame oil, and 1. T. chopped cilantro (I use the stuff in a tube), plus 1 tsp. fish sauce and some red pepper flakes if you're feeling adventurous. Add the partially cooked eggplant and about 1/3 of a small jar of black bean garlic paste (Lee Kum Kee brand is available in a lot of grocery stores and it isn't bad; I get one at an Asian grocery that's a little less salty, with more distinct fermented black beans in the mix). Depending on the saltiness and moisture level of the eggplant and tofu, add about 1/3 cup broth, maybe 1 tsp. of soy sauce, and the chopped green scallion tops at the very end, saving some for a garnish. Sometimes it's also thickened with a little cornstarch. This all goes together pretty quickly. Don't cook it into mush. Serve over rice --- jasmine brown rice is perfect --- with the additional green onion pieces. Some authentic versions also use more garlic, a little dry sherry or Chinese cooking wine, a dash of Chinese black vinegar and maybe some sugar. There's even a preserved mustard root that can be added.

Mushroom Veggie Burgers

Most meatless burgers are sad, sodden affairs, necessarily camouflaged by all the condiments, lettuce and tomato that will fit on a bun. As a former macrobiotic hippie (it must have been the California/Colorado air) I have not-so-fond memories of veggie burgers made with beans and brown rice and lumpen loaves laden with lentils (yes, that was alliterative in the extreme). "Diet for a Small Planet", anyone? Growing up in a household of nine, I remember Mom sometimes using TVP in the interest of economy to stretch hamburger in chili, meatloaf, etc. I always thought it smelled suspiciously like dry dog food. A recent cholesterol screening has sent me back to the older regime, somewhat modified. Tom, the piratical chicken farmer/Vietnam vet with an eye patch, no longer has my patronage, and I am missing his free-range eggs with the bright yellow yolks. I'm also cutting back on the economical chicken legs and thighs that had been a regular feature of the simpler meals Mom will eat these days. Cheese, my constant craving, has also been pared back to lower-fat varieties. Trader Joe's no longer carries a wonderful jalapeno jack that was zero fat, but I look for parmesan and anything lower than 9 percent. One thing I do like is falafel, but its fat content depends on how much oil is used to fry it. Also, it's not one of Mom's favorite things. She does like cumin, however, and it is laden with fiber and protein as well as flavor. I decided to experiment with a veggie burger variant using falafel mix adulterated with TVP and dried mushrooms to make a veggie burger. To begin, I soaked 3/4 cup each of unflavored TVP and falafel mix plus 2 T. dried onion flakes in 1/2 cup of low-salt chicken broth for 10 minutes. I crumbled in 2 dried morels, 1-1/2 T. dried chanterelles, and 1/4 cup dried shiitake mushrooms, and added 1 teaspoon each of onion and garlic powder, plus 1 teaspoon smoked salt, 1 teaspoon dried parsley, 1/2 teaspoon of Bragg's amino (or use soy sauce), and 1/2 teaspoon Spanish smoked paprika. After it sat a few more minutes, I added half an 11.5 oz. can of low-salt V-8 juice, which adds flavor, nutrition and a pleasing reddish hue. After letting the mixture set for a half hour, covered, in the refrigerator, I formed it into 3/4 inch patties and fried them in a little olive oil in a non-stick skillet. A slice of tomato, a little lettuce and some ketchup on a whole wheat bun made Mom happy. I refrigerated the other half of the mixture and tried some more patties a couple of days later. It had plumped a little more and was totally texturally satisfying. I popped a leftover patty under the broiler a day later and discovered it added a lovely crunch. More falafel mix is on the shopping list. Another shopping note: I buy the dried morels and chanterelles from Heidi at the local farmers' market, but Trader Joe's has resumed carrying a dried mushroom mixture that would work nicely. Sliced dried shiitakes crumble quite easily and are less than $2 a package at an Asian grocery in Vancouver. (That would be WA, not BC. There is a growing Asian contingent across the Columbia from Portland, and the prices are excellent.)

Warming Waffles

Having leftover squash usually means making soup, but I had just finished a batch and didn't think Mom would appreciate a rerun. The King Arthur Flour site posted a Gingerbread Waffle recipe that sounded intriguing, as my sister had stayed overnight and a special breakfast was in order. I opted to hybridize the recipe incorporating leftover squash from Christmas dinner plus the gingerbread theme, and it turned out to be a winner, especially with sliced ripe d'Anjou pear served on the waffles. I didn't measure, but here's an approximation that will work, give or take a splash or two of buttermilk. I started with about 1-1/2 cups of the squash puree, which had begun as a knobby, orange non-pumpkin (Kabocha?), oven-roasted and immersion blended. To the puree, I added 1/4 cup dark molasses, 2 T. Truvia, the equivalent of 2 eggs (Eggbeaters), about 1/3 cup coconut sugar (you could use brown sugar), plus 2 T. canola oil. To that mixture, I added 1/3 tsp. ground ginger, 1 tsp. cinnamon, and a pinch of cloves, plus a little sea salt. I used about 3/4 cup each of whole wheat pastry flour and unbleached flour, with 1 tsp. baking powder and 1/4 tsp. baking soda. I mixed the dry ingredients together with the liquid ingredients, just stirring enough to incorporate, which resulted in a fairly stiff dough that I thinned with buttermilk until it was the consistency of a thick pancake batter. The waffles were a hit, as they were light yet substantial enough that one made a perfect breakfast. I would not hesitate to use roasted sweet potatoes in a similar role.

Fruit Cake That's Not A Fruitcake

Our neighbors on both sides have been pleasant this year, unlike the bunch who used to live next door, up at all hours with lost friends who sometimes woke us rapping on the wrong window. In gratitude for the more sedate couple now residing to the west and the sweet pair to the east who are occasionally helpful to us two old ladies, in the spirit of the holidays, I was inspired to do some baking. The bulk section beckons this time of year with its cornucopia of dried fruits and nuts. I indulged and also bought some pecans and Plugra butter. Mom used to make fruitcakes every year, sending them to various family members around the country. Fruitcake is the butt of too many jokes, and I must admit that citron can be pretty rank, although Mom's candied grapefruit peel was toothsome. Her holiday date cakes were legendarily moist and yummy but over-the-top rich, particularly when iced. I would rather have a cake that's not so dense as to possibly stand in as a doorstop, containing smaller pieces of natural dried fruits, not citron. This batch makes four small loaves, which are great as gifts or can be frozen for later. I used disposable baking pans for the gifts. They are made of paper from Japan, 2 - 1/2" by 7", and do not have to be greased, or you could use small metal loaf pans sprayed with canola. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, combine: 1 - 1/2 cubes unsalted butter, room temperature; 1 - 1/2 cups coconut sugar (or use 1-1/4 cup brown sugar); 2 eggs; 1/3 cup agave syrup; 1/2 cup (one four-ounce cup) unsweetened applesauce. Cream together until eggs are incorporated and mixtured is lightened. Add: 1 cup chopped dates; 1/2 cup chopped dried apricots; 1/3 cup chopped dried pineapple (optional); 2/3 cup dried cranberries; 3/4 cup chopped pecans; 1 tsp. sea salt; 1 - 1/2 tsp. cinnamon; a pinch of cloves; 1/2 tsp. powdered ginger; 1/3 tsp. ground coriander; 1/3 tsp. grated nutmeg; and 1/3 tsp. ground cardamom. Stir above into creamed mixture, then add: 3/4 cup coconut flour; 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour; 1 - 3/4 cup unbleached flour; 1 tsp. soda; 1 - 1/2 tsp. baking powder; and 1 - 1/3 cup buttermilk Mix flour into the combined ingredients; do not overmix. The dough should not be as liquid as cake batter, but depending on the coconut flour and other ingredients, it could need a bit more moisture. Set your timer for 35 minutes. The center should be set and springy with a toothpick coming out clean and cracks developing in the top. If not, leave it in another five or so minutes. Note the array of spices in thise recipe, borne from the East by my sister, who brought back a bounty from India that sends wafts to my nose when I open that cupboard. Another sis just sent me a coffee grinder to be used only for spices, a Christmas gift resulting from our discussion of that wondrous largesse. A few cardamom pods were split down the side and their tiny contents delivered to the blade, followed by some real mace. The nutmeg was grated on a 'toy' grater, a gift a few years back from my youngest sister, who gave me tiny kitchen Christmas tree ornaments that are adorably true to life. Though I haven't tried the miniature copper pans for real, they look like they would deliver.

PB2+ Cookies

Once again prevailed upon to provide cookies for a candidates' night, I set to work with two serendipitous ingredients I hadn't tried before. The discontinued rack at Carson General Store had a couple of packages of chocolate chips mixed with peanut butter chips. Normally I would have passed them right by, as they contain sugar plus fat, but I thought of cookie-baking duty and picked up a bag for $1.89, a bargain. Baking everything low-sugar, low-fat is a necessity at home, but providing verboten ingredients to the general public causes no qualms, as they would likely pass by any cookie that looked or smelled too healthy. Chocolate chips, especially premium dark chocolate varieties, aren't that high in sugar/fat in the overall scheme of things. My sister gave me a jar of PB2 mixed with "premium chocolate" (make that cocoa powder). This relatively new item is basically peanut butter minus 85% of the fat, and is supposed to be reconsituted with water before making a sandwich, etc. It also has some sugar, but little in the way of incomprehensible chemistry. The chocolate version is a peanut/cocoa low-fat Nutella-like powder. The chips inspired me to throw in a little of this powder with the complimentary flavors and see what happened. The result was better than the "Political Horse Pucky Cookies" of the previous posting, and disappeared even faster. I happen to know they were better because I split the only leftover cookie (snatched from outstretched hands) with Mom last night. Here's my recipe for PB2+ Cookies, which makes about three dozen. Start with 1 cube softened butter, and add 1 cup coconut sugar, 1/4 cup erythritol, and 1 tsp. vanilla paste (or extract). Cream together, stirring in 2 eggs. Then add 1/2 cup PB2+ powder, 1/3 cup cocoa powder, 1 tsp. salt, 1 cup unbleached flour (you could use gluten-free), 1/2 cup coconut flour, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1/4 tsp. baking soda and 3/4 cup quick oats. Stir together with 1/2 cup milk, adding the bag of chips last, mixing until all the ingredients are incorporated. If the dough still has a few dry pockets, add a small splash of milk. Using two spoons, form 2" balls and smoosh them down a little, distributing them evenly on parchment paper on a half-sheet pan. Bake in three batches at 375 degrees for 12 minutes. Remove to a rack and cool before storing. To transport them, I put them on paper plates in layers separated by waxed paper, placed in a cake carrier. These are not guilt-free, due to the butter plus small amounts of real sugar in the powder and chips, but the coconut sugar, coconut flour and oatmeal (higher fiber)and protein of the peanut powder redeem them somewhat.

Political Horse Pucky Cookies

Asked to contribute cookies for a candidates' night at the American Legion Hall on the upper Washougal River, I concocted a batch using two ingredients I've been experimenting with lately, coconut flour and coconut sugar; (the latter is a good substitute for brown sugar). The dough is rather stiff and I rolled it into two-inch balls, thinking they would spread some while baking. They didn't, and the result looked like what we as kids used to call horse apples. The candidates' night was an endurance test of political pandering, patriotic posturing, appalling punditry and rigid folding chairs, bookended by flag ceremonies performed by two Eagle Scouts put through their paces by their Boy Scout leader, who barked orders at the boys and interjected his own comments into the proceedings. After two hours punctuated by sporadic bell ringing to signal 'time' for the more long-winded among the office seekers, relieved constituents who had endured those folding chairs without a break fell on the refreshments like locusts. Most of the offered goodies were from the Washougal Safeway bakery, so the rather homely appearance of my horse pucky cookies and a small sign revealing their healthier ingredients did not deter those who descended upon the refreshment table. Two waxed paper levels of cookies rapidly disappeared, leaving a few balls on a paper plate that I was able to take home in Mom's cake carrier. A couple of people asked for the recipe. I hadn't written it down, as I had improvised the batch, so here goes: 1 stick unsalted butter, softened slightly; 1 cup coconut sugar + 1/3 cup erythritol + 1 tsp. stevia powder (you could substitute 1 cup brown sugar, or just 1-1/2 cups coconut sugar, as it is slightly less sweet). Cream together and beat in: 2 eggs, 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. good vanilla extract. Add: 3/4 cup coconut flour, 1 cup unbleached flour (you could use gluten-free flour), 3/4 cup cocoa powder, 1 cup old-fashioned oats (" " " gluten-free oats), 1 tsp. baking powder, 1/2 tsp. baking soda, 3/4 cup buttermilk. Stir together, adding: 1 cup dark chocolate chips, 2/3 cup dried cranberries. This combination of ingredients results in a stiff dough, so add more buttermilk if the dough still has dry patches, as the coconut flour and oatmeal absorb liquid. Cover a large baking sheet with parchment paper or spray with canola. Roll the dough into 2" balls and distribute evenly over the pan. Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven 12 minutes per batch; remove and cool. If stacking them up, use waxed or parchment paper between the layers. Coconut flour can be deceptive. When first removed from the oven the texture may seem dry, but they soften a little in an hour or two, making baked goods that keep their moisture a couple of days. These can also be frozen.

Another Breakfast of Champions

As otherwise noted in these pages, my breakfasts are seldom cereal. Since returning from Alaska, I've had to feed my sourdoughs, so I had a Belgian waffle with fresh strawberries this morning, and buckwheat sourdough pancakes with banana yesterday. Mom often has an omelet or fritatta, my way of working a few more vegetables into her diet, and I eat them with her. But on the mornings Mom wants hot or cold cereal, I eschew usual breakfast fare and either rustle up an Asian rice or rice noodle stirfry, or make a breakfast burrito featuring leftovers plus wholewheat flour tortillas and Veronica's homemade-style fresh salsa from Hood River, which are always in the fridge, as is a hunk of tofu. I am not a vegetarian, but find I don't miss the meat, and it is on the menu much less these days. Whatever the time of day, it's always time for a stirfry or Asian noodles. Here is my "Daybreak Pad See Ew." Briefly stirfry chopped gai lan or broccoli in a wok with a little peanut oil and a dash of sesame oil, adding the chopped white part of a couple of scallions and two cloves of chopped garlic. Scramble in one egg. Add 2 T. soy sauce and 1 T. fish sauce to 1/2 package cubed extra firm tofu; place in center of the wok, moving vegetables to the side, then pour in about 1/2 cup low-salt chicken broth, and add pre-soaked rice noodles. (Optional: Add 1 handful bean sprouts.) Stir together and cover briefly. Serve immediately with chopped green scallion. Other garnish options: chili sauce on the side, dried chili flakes or chopped chili (a jalapeno is fine) sprinkled on top, and the juice of a wedge of lime and chopped peanuts scattered over the dish. This can also be made with asparagus. If you prefer meat, replace the tofu with bits of fresh pork or chicken, cooking it in step one rather than later in assembling the dish.

Not-So-Hot Jerk Chicken

I love jerk chicken, but have had to do without or improvise since leaving Brooklyn in 1983. Lately, I have renewed my love affair with allspice and have always loved the warm spices in Moroccan and Caribbean food. However, Mom has zero tolerance for heat these days. We are officially entering barbecue season. This is a jerk chicken alternative intended for those whose guests can't stand the heat and have to stay out of the kitchen. Guest free? Go ahead and use a scotch bonnet or habanero pepper (or two or three if you can stand it). 1 roasted red sweet pepper, seeded; or drained equivalent of jarred roasted red pepper 1/2 sweet onion, coarsely chopped 2 scallions, coarsely chopped 3 cloves garlic, crushed with the flat side of a chef's knife 3 long sprigs fresh thyme, leaves taken off the stem 1/3 cup coconut sugar (or 1/4 cup brown sugar; or 1 T. dark molasses plus 2 T. erythritol) 1 T. + 1 tsp ground allspice 2 tsp sea salt 3/4 tsp. ground nutmeg 1 tsp. ground cinnamon 1/3 cup unsweetened, unflavored rice wine vinegar 2 T. soy sauce juice of 1 large (or 2 small) squeezed lime, plus lime wedges for serving 1 T. vegetable oil, plus more for brushing grill Freshly ground pepper 1 chicken cut into 8 pieces, 8 drumsticks and thighs, or 4 chicken breasts, cut in half Place red pepper, onion, scallions, garlic, and thyme in a food processor and turn into a coarse paste. Add coconut sugar, allspice, salt, nutmeg, cinnamon, rice wine vinegar, soy sauce, lime juice, and oil; season with pepper. Process until smooth. Marinade can be refrigerated up to 24 hours before continuing. Transfer 1/3 of the marinade to a small bowl and cover and refrigerate for later use to brush on chicken. Transfer remaining marinade to a large glass baking dish or bowl and coat chicken, rubbing marinade under the skin and all over the chicken. Cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate at least 8 hours. Take out chicken 1/2 hour before grilling. Heat the grill to low (if you are using a charcoal grill, hold your hand 5 inches above the grate for up to 7 seconds to make sure it's hot enough). Brush grate lightly with oil. Place chicken on grill, skin sides down. Discard the used marinade. Grill chicken, brushing occasionally with the reserved fresh marinade, until browned but not charred. Turn chicken, and continue to cook, moving if necessary to cooler part and basting until cooked through, 20 to 25 minutes. Serve with lime wedges. Oven variation: Preheat oven to 350 degrees and lightly oil a heavy skillet placed on medium-low heat. Add part of the chicken to the skillet, skin side down --- do not overcrowd the skillet. Discard used marinade. Cook, brushing occasionally with reserved fresh marinade, turning, until well browned on all sides, about 30 minutes. Transfer chicken to a non-reactive baking dish. Wipe out skillet, brush with more oil and cook remaining chicken, transferring cooked chicken to the baking dish. Brush chicken with more marinade, and transfer to oven. Bake until cooked through, about 15 minutes. Serve with lime wedges. Rice cooked in coconut milk and a romaine or butter lettuce salad with de-skinned orange segments (fancy name: supremes)would be a great accompaniment.

Not Nutella

Nearly every kid between the ages of two and 20 is familiar with Nutella, which used to be reserved for Euro youngsters. When I could find it here, I occasionally liked to smear it on pancakes or enliven ice cream. Now that I am sugar- and fat-free, it is verboten, not to mention expensive. That classic chocolate/hazelnut combination still entices, but I think I've found a remedy that incorporates another favorite, strawberries. My memory was jogged via a Facebook posting by my cousin that included a photo of a chocolate waffle, referencing our Grandma Smith as inspiration. Feeding my sourdough collection now includes two jars of Alaska sourdough (I've been intending to give one away), as well as one French culture and the buckwheat pancake version. I made a batch of sourdough waffle batter from the halves of the non-buckwheat jars, adding to the bowl some Bob's Red Mill 10-grain pancake mix (I find it in the bulk at Huckleberries or Winco), plus buttermilk and a little Eggbeaters. I always add a couple of shakes of salt, about a quarter-teaspoon of baking soda and half a teaspoon of baking powder. It made a great batch of Belgian waffles, but Mom's limit was one, and I decided to try something different with the remaining batter, inspired by Cousin Deb. I added about one-third cup of Trader Joe's unsweetened cocoa powder, three packets of stevia, plus the coup de grace, some hazelnut extract. Last Christmas, my sister Polly gave me a collection of natural flavorings, including an intense vanilla sludge with tiny seeds, maple extract, and hazelnut. I was reaching for the vanilla when a light bulb went on ---- Nutella-flavored waffles. Since the waffle iron was already hot, I decided to make the remaining batter into waffles and freeze them. While at Grocery Outlet, I had scored a two-pound container of California strawberries for $1.99. Their fragrance sent a siren song to me as I walked by. They were absolutely perfect, not a moldy or bruised one in the bunch, so to keep them that way, after returning home, I immediately washed, de-stemmed and halved them with some erythritol and a little stevia, and had them stashed in the refrigerator. For dessert, which could just as easily be brunch, I plugged in the waffle iron and reheated a couple of the frozen waffles. Halves can also be thrown in the toaster, but Belgian waffle crags and crannies do better in their original maker. Topped with strawberries and a little juice, they are decadent, a real guilt-free indulgence. The only possible improvement would be a little vanilla ice cream. In the sugar-free, low-fat ice cream department, I've learned from disappointing, chalky experience that Dreyer's is much superior to Breyer's. Umpqua also isn't bad, but it can be hard to find in these parts. Today, May Day, it's supposed to be near 90, so homemade ice cream weather is fast approaching (See previous postings). This morning, Mom and I were reminiscing about a May 1 tradition that has sadly disappeared. She remembers picking small bouquets, leaving them on the neighbors' steps, ringing the bell and running. As kids in Yakima where we had nearby neighbors, we wove baskets from construction paper, filled them with lilacs and other flowers, rang the doorbell and left them on the nearby doorsteps of the more tolerant types, those who actually smiled when they saw us rather than frowning and thinking, "How can they handle all those rambunctious kids?"

The blood-red moon May yet lead to June

Yesterday felt like May already, balmy yet breezy, with a light haze and mucho pollen contributing to the haze also in my head. I couldn't look at the yard without doing something about the overwintered mess, so I grabbed a giant pair of loppers --- overkill for what I lopped, mostly deadhead hydrangea, rosebush ends with last year's bloom remains, dead overgrown oregano and some Blue Lake bean tendrils stubbornly wound around the cable to the TV dish on the roof. I definitely had to use some finesse with those giant rusty loppers to avoid a service interruption, but the job got done. Last night was a "blood moon," a phenomenon combining an eclipse with a lining up of the planet and moon that results in a blood-red orb. This not-once-in-a-blue-moon but an even rarer event was advertised to begin shortly before 11 p.m. Clouds were coming in, but I was impelled to put on my fleece robe, a giant shawl and a hat before venturing out into the darkness. A front was coming in, and clouds rolled across the sky as I sat in a folding chair, shivering, while listening to Jobim on my MP3 player. Perhaps I thought Brazil might warm things up? The MP3 player charger ran out of juice before the skies cleared and a shadow crawled across the face of the moon. Without a tripod, my zoom contributed to the general shakiness and lack of resolution of the images I was able to capture. It was indeed a deeply orange and brooding mystery, actually culminating a bit after midnight. A couple of the photos convey the scene at seven-eighths completion, but the final eclipse was too dark to show in the last images. By that time, I was thoroughly chilled and ready for bed. Nevertheless, the juxtaposition of a mysterious sky, a glimmer of an eye in the backyard and Jobim's saudade cast its magic. In a month, I will be 65, but I never felt it less than last night shivering under that portent-ridden sky. Ukraine, the Kansas City shootings, the one-year anniversary of the Boston bombings --- blood red seems about right, but optimism is stubborn. All is wrong but right in the world, after all. Yesterday, I had an email from a long-lost New York friend, someone I sang with several years and shared the details of failed affairs with. She is living in the Catskills, also retired, and still sings a little. I don't know if she will respond again to the emailed outpouring sent in reply. As usual, I reveal far too much, thus pushing people away. Something was in the air besides pollen yesterday, and I knew it from the moment I awoke. Breakfast was biscuits and gravy, guilt-free version. I located a half-roll of frozen turkey breakfast sausage, and while it thawed in the microwave, mixed up drop biscuits with one-third whole wheat flour, two-thirds unbleached, baking soda, salt and baking powder with about 1-1/2 T. of butter/olive oil spread worked in, plus a half-cup of sourdough starter, and the last of the buttermilk plus some thinned yogurt that was runny anyway. While they baked in the toasted oven, I lightly browned the sausage (just until the red is gone --- any more and it toughens). Dried onion and garlic, some dried sage, black pepper, a pinch of smoked salt and onion powder went into the skillet with 2 percent milk, a couple of glugs of evaporated milk, and a slurry of cornstarch. The gravy was done about the same time as the drop biscuits, and the rest of the dough was turned into (very rough) cinnamon rolls with coconut sugar, cinnamon and raisins. Mom was quite happy for a break in the cereal, buckwheat sourdough pancake or Eggbeater omelette routine. So was I. After a night of blood-red moon and red eyes in the backyard, I warmed a remaining biscuit with leftover gravy in the microwave, sprinkled with a little more evap. The sky is gray, and rain is in the forecast, but there are still reasons to be optimistic, in spite of CNN (which Mom seems to be watching perpetually these days, while muttering that Putin is Hitler).

Cranberry rolls and a chocolate syrup catastrophe

Our neighbors to the east have been good to us, so we decided a homemade gift was in order. I wanted to make a pan of rolls to accompany a card. Out of the refrigerator and onto the counter went my two containers of sourdough, one begun a couple of years ago from French brioche yeast and a batch of Alaskan starter from an envelope that was found in the back of the cupboard, dated 1996. It's been thriving more than a year now. I plugged in the KitchenAid, something I am using more often these days because my arthritic hands can't do as much hand mixing and kneading. Half of the starter from each jar was spooned into the mixer, and after the starters were fed and returned to the fridge, I added a 1 tsp. of yeast slurry and additional lukewarm water to the mixer with a bit of honey and some flour, including unbleached and whole wheat pastry flours, plus a dash of salt, making it about the consistency of thick pancake batter. After a thorough mixing, I covered it with a cotton dishtowel and let it grow a couple of hours. Then I added more flour, (two-thirds unbleached, one-third spelt), incorporating about one-third cup of gluten flour into the dough, which got a little more water but was deemed ready for another rise when it began climbing the dough hook, not quite a dough ball. An hour later, it had risen well. I turned on the mixer and was adding a bit more whole wheat pastry flour when kitchen gremlins went into action. A bottle of Walden Farms sugar-free chocolate syrup jumped from the shelf and managed to shatter in front of the stove, liberally distributing glass and syrup all over the floor while the mixer ran. The dough got a bit over-mixed as I ran for the broom and dustpan. Turning off the mixer and covering the dough once again, I had no option but to fill a mop bucket and go to work. Thirty minutes later, the syrup was gone and the floor was ready for holiday guests. Phew. Too tired to plunge back into roll-making, I instead turned my attention to what I was going to do with the dough. I put about a cup of almonds in the toaster oven on low for about 20 minutes while the floor dried, then dumped them into the food processor with some orange-flavored dried cranberries from Trader Joe's and a few chopped dried apricots. After a rough chop, I added cinnamon, freshly grated nutmeg and coconut sugar and gave them a whirl. I patted half the dough into a rectangle, and dotted it with room temperature butter covered with the fruit-nut mixture. Rolling it up, I used a serrated knife to cut into rounds, making cinnamon rolls with the addition of another sprinkle of Saigon cinnamon. The rolls were placed to rise two of those toss-away aluminum cake pans. After they doubled in size, they went into a 350-degree pre-heated oven. After they browned some, I pulled them out and cooled them on racks while I mixed up a little butter with sugar-free maple syrup and some confectioner's sugar (a real indulgence). After drizzling the icing over the rolls, a still-warm pan was delivered to the neighbors. Half the almond-cranberry-apricot mixture remained, and I quickly mixed it into an oatmeal cookie dough with more coconut sugar and the last of the real butter, about 1/4 of a stick. The cookies went into the oven with a walnut half topping each one. The result: Cookies to give as presents for my nephews, and two pans of rolls for us as well as the pan that went to the neighbors. The orange-flavored dried cranberry mixture was perfect in each batch, adding a piquant tang that cut the potential for the rolls being overly sweet. The last pan of rolls, sans icing, rests in the freezer. I'm still trying to decide if I'll buy another bottle of chocolate syrup.

That first bite...

The foraging deer were late this year discovering my container garden. The first evidence they found my treasure trove was a partially ravaged Sungold cherry tomato plant, and a pruned section of a truly epic Jack-in-the-Beanstalk-sized Blue Lake pole bean, initially trained to a trellis then rappelling up the TV cable wire. The deer have been back several times to selectively sample cherry tomato fronds, leaf lettuce, rainbow chard, and a little Thai basil. They have once again signaled their fondness for Cherokee Purple heirloom tomatoes as opposed to more mundane Romas or Early Girls. This year, I have also been trying Indigo Rose, a deep purple tomato the size of a Ping-Pong ball. The deer are a little ambivalent about them, as am I. Pretty, but 'meh.' Occasionally, Mom says she hears them in the night under her window. I have a window fan on low and keep the radio on in my bedroom, so I haven't heard their depredations. This morning I made a disconcerting discovery that also caused eruptions of chortling at intervals. It would be worth the cost of a night vision camera to capture the scene: A deer browsing the salad bar, decimating the lower third of my Jack-in-the bean plant, taking tomato nibbles, then trying the top of a hot pepper plant. While the missing foliage doesn't pack a punch, I know that the missing pepper certainly did. I had been keeping an eye on that three-inch pepper, variety unknown, thinking to pick it in the next day or so. It was on one of four pepper plants grown from plain-wrapper seed packets. The other three have different shapes; this may have been a jalapeno. All are in a container with a truly prolific Thai bird pepper plant I bought as a start. I certainly haven't noticed any missing foliage or fruit on it. Those bird peppers are incendiary. I picked a cup full of red ones this week and dumped them into a mixture of vinegars plus salt and a couple of sprigs of Thai basil. I brought them to a boil, then put them in a pint jar. The lid pinged, so I presume they are sealed, but to be on the safe side, I am keeping the jar in the fridge. There was a teaspoon of vinegar that didn't fit in the jar so I tried a tiny sip from a teaspoon. It about blew my head off and led to coughing spasms. I am forewarned. Although I chop raw bird peppers into my stir-fries and miso/tofu soups, I haven't pulled a pickled pepper out of the jar yet. I took another look this morning at my raided garden, and feel a bit justified in having no remorse over their peppery surprise. I have an inkling the deer may have passed the word --- "Stay away from that container with those things that make you cry."

The Beaded Huckleberry Basket

The scene: Newark Airport, changing planes after the 2008 Inauguration, walking around the boarding area of the terminal, which was packed, trying to find something to drink. The loudspeaker crackled to life to announce my cross-country flight was boarding when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a handsome Northwest Indian man with his briefcase balanced atop a garbage can, talking to two people, likely members of a Plains tribe. What had my eyeball glued to the briefcase were its contents --- it was filled with really fine beadwork.

I wandered over and asked, "Are any of these for sale?" I had already spotted a singular piece, a beaded replica of a Klickitat basket brimming with huckleberries, with three paddlers in a Chinookan canoe worked into the front of the basket. It was exquisitely made, with smoke-tanned elk hide as its base and three-dimensional huckleberries in the basket, which has Klickitat 'ears' and the obligatory one-bead mistake.

I asked if he was from the Columbia Gorge, where those baskets originated --- he said he was a member of the Nez Perce, but his wife is Warm Springs. I was already reaching for cash while watching the boarding line recede down the corridor and onto my plane. I indicated the one I wanted; he said $40. I handed him my last two twenties and a business card and dashed for the plane. My heart was pounding, full of gratitude for this chance encounter. It is now my favorite beaded piece, eclipsing the silvery blue fish motif earrings I once bought at a powwow.

I sewed a small loop on the back so it can also work as a pendant. Mary Schlick, whose book on imbricated basket-making is a definitive work on the subject, stopped during an event to admire it.

Now, I wish I knew who made it. I have searched the web but found only two other beaded baskets, and they were not like mine.

There were many tribal members at the Inauguration; they hosted their own ball. While walking to the Dirksen Building in D.C. the day before the Inauguration, I talked to two women from a northern Alaskan village walking down the street wearing beaded anoraks and sealskin mukluks. Later, I emailed Warm Springs tribal headquarters, attaching a photo of the piece and asking if anyone knew of its maker, but he or she is still a mystery.

"Pure Food" and "Can't Fail" Cookbooks

I recently came across a forgotten family heirloom, the "Pure Food Cook Book," published in 1923 by the Women's Progressive Farmers' Association of the State of Missouri. It originally belonged to my Great-Aunt Lora. It was then passed down to my grandmother, my mother, and now me. There are a number of handwritten recipes interspersed among the pages, including recipes for Sliced Peach Pie and Bread and Butter Pickles, most in Great-Aunt Lora's handwriting. My favorite was inserted between pages, a recipe in my grandmother's handwriting for "Pigs in Blanket," not the frankfurter version, but a stuffed cabbage recipe. The best part: the recipe is on the back of a deposit slip for the World War I Auxiliary #157 account at Peoples Bank. In addition to recipes for Loganberry Lemonade, Virginia Chow Chow and Peach Pickles, this book has a recipe in Great-Aunt Lora's handwriting for Green Tomato Preserves. The last page is "How to Cook Husbands," which includes this gem: "Tie him in the kettle by a strong silken cord, called comfort; duty is apt to be weak. Husbands are apt to fly out of the kettle and be burned and crusty on the edge, since, like crabs and lobsters, you have to cook them while alive. Make a clear, steady fire out of love, neatness and cheerfulness. Set your husband as near this as seems to agree with him. If he sputters and fizzes, do not be anxious. Some husbands do this until they are quite done. Add a little sugar in the form of what confectioners call kisses, but no vinegar or pepper on any account..." Another on my shelf is the "Can't Fail Cook Book," by Isabelle Clark Swezy, published by Vitucci Virgin Olive Oil. The year is nowhere in evidence, but it's definitely close to 100 years old. At one point I gave it to my brother when he nearly starved while trying to make it on his own the first time. In the margins are hints for places to shop, as well as a couple of recipes in my newly learned, still awkward calligraphy. In addition to recipes for Canellon of Beef and Rice and Salmon Turbot, it gives directions for furniture and floor polish made with turpentine, vinegar, and you guessed it ---- 1 cup of Vitucci Virgin Olive Oil. The most helpful book on the shelf is the "Farm Journal Cookbook," a mainstay when I was growing up. The earlier editions are best if you can find them, as they include farmstead essential information as well as tried and true recipes. "Stocking Up" is another good one written with the self-sufficient kitchen in mind. Stepping away from the bookshelf, some family gems are stashed away in the recipe card boxes, many well-worn and marked with stains. My sister had asked us to entrust her with our favorites, including those in our grandmothers' handwriting, and took the time and trouble to scan them in. The result was a CD that was her holiday gift to everyone, still quite treasured.

Pasta salad and sweet harmony

This just in: Pasta salad is a summer thing, doesn't heat up the oven, and stays edible for days in the fridge. And it doesn't have to be blah. Cook 3/4 package whole grain or brown rice rotini al dente; drain. While still hot, add 1 big handful of snow peas or sugar pod peas, deveined and coarsely chopped. (Mine were blossoming and producing enough for a batch until the hot weather hit.) Add half a package of frozen stir fry vegetables with asparagus, 2 chopped scallions, and 2/3 cup cooked edamame (shelled). Pour over the salad 1/2 bottle good prepared Asian ginger/sesame dressing (an exception to bad bottled dressings), OR use 1/3 cup rice wine vinegar, 1 clove garlic, 1 T. soy sauce, 1 T. toasted sesame oil, 2 T. agave syrup, 1 T. grated ginger, 3 large chiffonaded Thai or regular basil leaves, salt, pepper to taste. (Cilantro is optional, as is sprinkling with red chili flakes). Chill. Set out 15 minutes before serving. Not mehhh. Something else refreshing: Four young people who have mastered the art of percussion with soft drink cups, plus they sing in perfect harmony. It will cost you $1.29, but it's worth every penny. Go to https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/cups-when-im-gone-single/id670084540 to download. "Cups (When I'm Gone)" is by Sam Tsui, Kina Grannis, Alex G and Kurt Schneider. The latter is the apparent mastermind of this iTunes video, apparently filmed in a park at a card table, with some really good microphones. A link on Facebook from my sister-in-law's sister sent me to this sweet video, which has restored my faith in the power of music, coordination, harmony and serendipity.

Rearview mirror...

"What a Difference a Day Makes" is an old standard with blah lyrics, but Dinah Washington turned up the heat on that old tune, taking it from lukewarm to a scorcher. I could now sing "What a Difference Some Months Make" and really wail. It's nearly July, and life isn't the blues, it's humming a different song. I've been walking three or four times a week, gradually increasing the distance when weather allows. Last week, I finally walked more than two miles, with the other two walks last week averaging more than one and a half miles, a distance arrived at by dividing the number of steps on my dollar store pedometer by my average stride (2,400 per mile). I'm off the Metformin completely, and my fasting blood sugar is averaging between 85 and 100. However, I'm still taking blood thinners and a statin. I don't climb on a scale except at the doctor's office, but I've lost at least 25-30 pounds. It's mostly due to eating a lot of vegetables, whole grains and fruits, as well as eschewing all alcohol. When I look in the mirror, a thinner face looks back, but I still have quite a lot of weight to drop. On one of my walks last week, a six-year-old kid I've encountered several times tagged along as I walked, listening my headphones, insisting, "You're fat. You're fat." Yesterday he tried to get my attention from across the street, but I carefully ignored him while concentrating on enjoying my soundtrack. Several years ago, I got a $35 Apacer .mp3 player, but didn't keep it charged. I recently resuscitated it, taking all the photos out of memory and cramming it with music, everything from Jobim and Miles to Don Pullen and Stevie Ray Vaughn. It also has a few of my percussive home studio pieces; I find they are the perfect tempo to pick up the pace. Now my walks are also an excuse to indulge in a little musical solitude. Meanwhile, I have cut back on watching the Food Network and Cooking Channel. I do not delve as frequently into Julia Child DVDs, Saveur and other foodie mags. It's simply too painful, although my email box is still full of recipes and other food porn. My mainstays have been Asian-derived ingredients and salads. I did indulge a bit too much in gai lan, which threw my blood thinner medication levels out of whack. How could I know that gai lan has five times as much vitamin K as broccoli? I've now backed off the spinach and bok choy, too. My cousin has shed 50 pounds by completely avoiding carbs. I haven't gone that far. I'm unable to completely give up brown rice, whole grain breads and the occasional rice noodle. But I do feel better. If my arteries, knees and feet will just hold up, I might make it to 70, or beyond.

Twin Obsessions: Nicoise and Pesto

I have been a fan of a good nicoise since the first encounter many years ago in France, but it's not something I have attempted at home more than once or twice. Pesto is another of my Mediterranean obsessions. This year, I already have basil thanks to a huge plant from Trader Giovanni and some unseasonably warm weather. Ergo: the Primo Pesto Plate. First make a pesto: Not having pine nuts but blessed with a surfeit of almonds in the freezer, I blanched 1/2 cup almonds briefly in salted water, since they still had on their skins, then cooled them and removed the skins. That was kind of fun, as they squirt out like grapes. Next I toasted them, shaking them frequently in a heavy dry skillet (I was careful to add only a trace of color). I added the almonds to the food processor with a big handful of fresh basil leaves; 2 sprigs of fresh oregano stripped off the stems; 2 T. olive oil, 3 garlic cloves; juice of half a lemon and 1 tsp. balsamic vinegar; 1/4 pound feta, crumbled; 1/4 cup chopped or grated parmesan, salt and pepper. I processed the mixture, adding a little water until the consistency was like a thick salad dressing, not a paste. I already had a piece of baked salmon in the refrigerator (or you could steam an uncooked piece of fish with the vegetables. If I hadn't had the cooked salmon, I could have used a can of solid albacore tuna, drained). Next, I steamed two red potatoes, cut into fours; four spears asparagus; and half a pound of fresh green beans over salted water. I started with the potatoes, then added the green beans and asparagus, cooking them until the potatoes were fork tender. If your steamer is small and you're also cooking the fish, you could briefly cook the green beans in a little salted water in a saucepan, shocking them in cold water to stop the cooking. The vegetables cooled to nearly room temperature. Meanwhile, I chopped two scallions, and washed and halved six cherry tomatoes. To assemble the meal, I arranged the potatoes, green beans, asparagus and fish pieces on each plate, placing cherry tomatoes around the edges, and scattering scallions on top. Then I placed a generous serving (about 1/4 cup) of the pesto in a small container next to each plate, to drop spoonfuls of pesto over the vegetables and fish to taste. Mom is not a big pesto fan, so I had more pesto readily at hand. The extra pesto freezes well. Walnuts, even pine nuts as per the original recipe might be substituted for the blanched almonds Other options: Low carb people could steam half a head of cauliflower, broken into florets, to replace the potatoes. Kalamata olives would be tasty additions arranged around the plate with the tomatoes. Or I could have eliminated the asparagus and added steamed or marinated artichoke hearts. Now I am eating more Mediterranean than ever by combining twin cravings.

Closet-Pole-Falling-Down Dinner

Sunday dinner was easy, which was a necessity while undertaking reconstruction of Mom's closet for the second time, a process involving sweat, swear words, jerry-rigging, iffy sheetrock screws and the available tools. Meanwhile, there are piles of her clothing on the bed, triage for Goodwill or the seniors' thrift store. Mom heard what she thought was a limb crashing down on the back roof. I promptly investigated and found nothing amiss. It wasn't until later when Mom opened her closet to discover heaps of clothing on the floor amid the shelves and collapsed pole that we found the source of the crash. Two screws were broken off in the wall, and metal was bent. A trip to Home Depot was needed to try to approximate the fix that came into my head, an ugly but functional support involving PVC pipe, a base and pipe fittings to cradle the pole on its precarious screws, a stalagmite solution to a stalagtite problem. As I worked on the porch next to the hanging fuschia basket Mom couldn't resist at Home Depot, I dodged occasional raindrops and went through the charged battery for the Dremel trying to saw through PVC pipe. Waiting for it to charge again, I started dinner and measured the closet pole and supports for the third time. I liberated a frozen Alaskan wild salmon fillet (approximately 1-1/2 lbs.) from the freezer.Laying it out still frozen on a large piece of heavy aluminum foil on a half sheet pan, I drizzled it with Asian salad dressing (Walden Farms calorie-free); a dash of low-salt tamari; a small line of toasted sesame oil down the fish; approximately 1/2 tsp. of cilantro paste from a tube (or use 1 tsp. finely chopped fresh); 1/2 tsp. applewood smoked salt; 1/3 tsp. each of garlic and onion powder, and freshly ground black pepper. Using a small spoon to evenly distribute the seasonings over the fish, I then laid 4 fresh basil leaves over the fish (I had a sprig of purple Thai basil, but Italian basil would work just as well). I left the pan out on the counter for about 45 minutes, until the fish was not quite thawed, then folded the foil into a loose package on the baking sheet, sealing it but leaving some air space above the fish. Meanwhile, I placed spears of sweet potato on a glass pie plate, spraying them with a little olive oil and seasoning them with salt and pepper. In another glass baking dish, I broke apart half a head of cauliflower, spraying it with oil and seasoning it with onion powder and a little smoked Spanish paprika. I started the vegetables first at 325, then added the fish to the already working oven, cooking the fish in a 300 degree oven for 30 minutes. Dinner couldn't have been healthier or more delicious. Now, back to the closet so Mom can sleep in her own bed again. This meal also be done on the grill. Variation 2: The salmon could be baked in parchment packets with smaller, flatter pieces of fish, plus a few thinly sliced vegetables like zucchini or other summer squash, with mushrooms and green onions or chives, sprinkled with the above seasonings.

The Polska Stuffed Cabbage Polka

A humongous cabbage has been lurking in the crisper drawer. It was on sale for 99 cents after St. Patrick's Day, no doubt left over from corned beef and cabbage at the brewpub owned by the local grocer. Goaded by the need for more refrigerator space and a desire for something adventurous in the comfort food category, I decided to make stuffed cabbage. My grandmother was not Polish or Jewish, but her version had elements of both cultures. I decided to try to emulate hers while adding healthier elements. Climbing on a ladder, I pulled down a large steamer/stockpot combination that I use for canning and put the head of cabbage to steam over boiling salted water after removing the core. I thawed a pound of low-fat chicken breakfast sausage rather than drive further afield for ground turkey breast or really lean (4 percent or so) ground beef. To extricate the flavor profile from its breakfast leanings, I mixed together some augmentation: TVP (soy based, non-GMO, no solvents) with a bit of water and tomato sauce, dried shiitakes reduced to near powder, raisins, garlic, miso, dried onion, a little black bean garlic paste, Spanish paprika, a dash of allspice, a dab of balsamic vinegar and a squirt of agave syrup. After that mixture hydrated, I added the chicken sausage and about a cup of cooked brown rice with a little Tony's and few sprinkles of Bufalo chipotle sauce. Into another large pot, I chopped a red sweet pepper, a third of a small onion and three cloves of garlic, opening a large can of crushed tomatoes and simmering it all with a bit more balsamic and malt vinegar, some coconut sugar and a squirt of agave. The cabbage pot had been pulled off the burner, and I peeled a pile of leaves. I cut off the fibrous core base in a triangular pattern, and placed generous mounds of filling into the giant leaves, placing the bundles in layers on a base of sauce in a large Dutch oven, adding sauce between each layer. The covered pan went into the oven at 325 for a little more than two hours with a casserole of acorn squash as its later accompaniment. The resulting cabbage rolls had the requisite Polish/Jewish sweet and sour tang. The savory filling laced with raisins had the right texture, and the TVP was not detectable. The cabbage was also quite tender and I am happy to report the rolls did not fall apart. Mom asked, "What it this?" That is a sign that in spite of her own mother's efforts, such ethnic offerings are now outside of Mom's acceptable-because-they-are-recognizable food categories. I may freeze some of the leftovers.