Happy birthday, Kansas

Dear Kansas, 

Happy birthday, darling. Here's to 151 years of zaniness and pluckiness and cheeriness and cantankerousness. 

This birthday card is a day late. Sorry about that. If you knew my track record with sending birthday cards on time, you'd know that a day late is darn timely. 

Since I couldn't wish you a "Happy Statehood" in person, I bought sunflowers in your honor. Also, I baked you a batch of whole (Kansas) wheat ginger molasses cookies. 

I'm pretty sure it's Kansas flour. Once, Bob Moore told me that Bob's Red Mill  buys most of its hard white winter wheat from Kansas. He founded the company, so I took him at his word. I used that flour, so hopefully these cookies are a product of Kansas. Perhaps even of Wellington, Wheat Capital of the World? That last assertion's a stretch, but it tickles me to entertain it.

I remember baking bread for Kansas Day at Washington Elementary School. Kind Mrs. Decker helped us mix the flour, yeast, and salt. We kneaded the dough at our desks (after washing them first!) We learned how to pat the dough, flip it, then press down again until it was springy and smooth. We waited--so impatiently!--for the dough to rise, then our friendly cafeteria ladies helped us bake them. That day, I learned that bread tastes better when you bake it yourself.

Kansas Day Bread Baking--what a fantastic tradition. Imagine it: warming your home each January 29 with freshly baked bread. Once I dial in how to bake bread that doesn't double as a door stop, I'll turn Kansas Day bread-baking into a ritual. Until then, Kansas, you get a batch of my finest down-home-delicious cookies. They're full of sweet whole wheat, molasses, ginger, cinnamon, and sugar.

Amy--a fellow Kansan-turned-Portlander--recently turned me on to these deadly delicious ginger cookies Stumptown Coffee sells. (Locals: we believe they're supplied by Nuvrei Patisserie in the Pearl?) I've approximated their taste with this recipe, but they're heartier in texture because of the whole wheat. If you'd like a flatter, more craggy cookie, use 1/2 all-purpose flour and 1/2 whole wheat.

Whole Wheat Ginger Molasses Cookies

adapted from BH&G's Giant Ginger Cookies

• 4 1/2 cups whole wheat flour* (for flatter, more chewy cookies, use 1/2 all-purpose flour like Hudson Cream and 1/2 whole wheat flour)
• 2 Tb. ground ginger
• 2 tsp. baking soda
• 1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• 1 tsp. ground cloves
• 1/4 tsp. sea salt
• 1 1/2 cups shortening (I used a mixture of 1/2 unsalted butter and 1/2 unrefined coconut oil.)
• 2 cups unrefined sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup molasses
• 3/4 cup coarse sugar for coating

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line several cookie sheets with parchment paper and set aside. Mix together the dry ingredients (spices, flour, salt) in a bowl and set aside. 

Beat the shortening in with an electric mixer for 30 seconds, until light and fluffy. Beat in the sugar for a minute, then the eggs and molasses. Scrape the sides of the mixing bowl occasionally. Mix in as much of the flour as you can without over-stirring. 

Shape dough into either 1" balls (for sensible-sized cookies) or 2" balls (for giant, bakery-sized cookies.) Roll the cookies in coarse sugar and place at least 2 1/2" apart on each cookie sheet. I was able to fit 8 or 9 cookies on a sheet with plenty of elbow room. 

Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 10-14 minutes, or until the cookies are golden brown and puffed. Don't over-bake the cookies or they won't be chewy. Let the cookies cool on the cookie sheet for a few minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Store in an air-tight container at room temperature for up to a week. Makes 25 4" cookies or 50 2" cookies. 

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy: 

Ranger cookies

Sunflower scones with boiled citrus glaze

Chocolate chip walnut cookies

Thinish mint cookies

Hello from KitchenAid Mixerland

Readers, I've fixed us a little party plate. Why? Because I finally own a KitchenAid Mixer! Eat up. There's enough to go around.

Santa Mr. Clause stepped up last Christmas and fulfilled my dream of a stand mixer that doesn't threaten to shake off the counter-top when left unattended. My '70s Sunbeam mixer got the job done, kinda--and with much whining, clattering, and funky burning smells. Old Sunbeam churned out cookies and dough for me, for my mother before me, and even for Grandma Mickey before her.

But I've had my eye on a KitchenAid mixer since my friend Amanda used the words "horsepower" and "dough hook" to describe it...in the same sentence. After that, I was hooked.


I still maintain that you don't need a fancy mixer or specialized kitchen equipment to create beautiful, delectable dishes at home. Did Julia Child use a stand mixer to make baguettes? No. Why should you have to do so?

However, I fall more in love with this mixer with each use. Its beauty belies its power. The classic model whips together cookie dough using 250 watts of pure awesome. I like knowing that my stand mixer has enough juice to lop off my hand if I'm not careful...


Expect more KitchenAid-rific recipes soon, but know that I'll always include modifications for cooks without a stand mixer in their arsenals. Until then, celebrate with me! And help me name this new mixer. Right now, I'm leaning toward calling her Gertrude, after Gertrude Stein Thoughts?

Nutty Cheese Ball

adapted from the KitchenAid recipe book

• 2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
• 1 package (8 oz.) light cream cheese, softened
• 3 Tb. chopped green onions or shallots
• 2 tsp. Worchestershire sauce
• 1/2 tsp chili powder
• 2 cloves fresh garlic, minced
• 1/3 cup finely chopped almonds, pecans or walnuts (or a mix of all three)

Whip the softened cream cheese for 1 minute, using a hand or stand mixer. Mix in cheese, onions, and spices. Scrape the mixture out onto a large piece of plastic wrap. Use the wrap to shape the mixture into a ball. 

Pour the chopped nuts into a small dish, and coat the outside of the cheese ball. You can roll the ball around the dish or use your hands to pat the coating on. Wrap the ball tightly with a clean piece of plastic and refrigerate for at least an hour. Serve with crackers, sliced cucumbers, or sliced veggies. 

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Polenta fries

Party macaroons

Sun-dried tomato and fresh herb spread Devil with the green dress on

Work lunch: Miso white bean soup with bacon and kale

Hello from my lunch break, everybody. I thought I'd show you the chic spot where I eat most mid-day meals.

Check out that stylish desk phone!

We're 11 days into the New Year, but already 2012 has been a busy one for me: less time for blogging, more time for working, hula hooping, and cooking at home. I figured you're also pressed for time, so let's have desk lunch together.

To our virtual picnic, I've brought a round of Babybell cheese, a slice of apple tart and miso white bean soup (with bacon and chard, zuh.) Please excuse the sub-par photos I took with my cell phone just now.

You can make a French apple tart like this one by reading the "Apple Butter Magic" post on Dramatic Pancake. (Actually, Dinah's apple tarte tatin is way sexier than the one I baked.)

I concocted this soup last night around 10. Starting a soup with just-soaked beans at 10 ensures that you'll be up past midnight, waiting for the beans to finish cooking. Despite the late hours, I think that night-time is the best time to experiment with soup. I'm a bit sleepy and loopy and crazy enough to try new things.

I'll give you my best approximation of how to make it. You should have just enough time to finish your lunch and bookmark this recipe before you bop along in your day. If you throw some beans into water for a soak when you get home from work, we can make more of this soup together tonight!

Miso White Bean Soup with Bacon and Kale

from my fevered mind

• 2 cups small white beans
• 2 slices smoked bacon
• 1 - 2 stalks celery, diced
• 6-10 green onions, sliced
• 1 cup carrots, diced
• 2 fresh garlic cloves, minced
• 1 tsp. oregano
• 2 cups low-sodium vegetable or chicken broth
• 1 1/2 cups fresh kale, torn into small pieces
• 1/2 cup fresh mire poix veggies or 1 Tb. dried mire poix (optional)
• 1/4 cup mild white miso paste
• bay leaf
• 
  

Soak the beans in cold water for 4 - 8 hours. Discard the water and pour beans into a medium-sized soup pot. Cover beans with enough water to have 4 - 5 inches of water on top. Bring the water and beans to a boil, along with a pinch of salt. Let the beans cook at a low boil while you chop veggies.

In a skillet, cook the bacon slices 'till they're crispy. Use a pair of kitchen shears to cut the bacon into small pieces and set the bacon aside. Saute the carrots, green onion, and garlic in the bacon grease-coated skillet.

Stir broth (veggie or chicken) and the miso paste into the simmering beans. It'll take a while for the miso to dissolve, and you may want to add a little more to taste. If the broth is too salty, add more water. The broth should taste slightly salty and have a faint ring of miso flavor. Toss in a bay leaf, then add the sauteed vegetables, kale and bacon pieces.

Let the soup simmer until the beans are soft. Adjust the seasonings before serving (Does it need more water? More miso?) and serve.

I've added a sprinkle of furikake seasoning to it for a nice Japanese touch (you can find furikake at Uwajimaya), but a swirl of Sriracha chili sauce is always in style.

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Butternut squash soup

Potato and caramelized onion soup

Cozy lentil-squash soup

Escape the family with fruitcake

Is family time getting you down? Would you like to escape your relatives and get some "me time" during the crazy Christmas shuffle? If the answer is yes, now is the time to cultivate a burning desire to bake fruitcake. Become obsessed. Decide that Christmas isn't Christmas until there's a big plate of home-made, alcohol-spiked, fruity cake on the table.


The Diva of Domesticity, Martha Stewart, says the rhythm of creating a fruitcake can be soothing during the holiday rush. She also says you can excuse yourself from holiday obligations by saying "the fruitcake needs tending."

Depending on how patient you care to be, fruitcakes can take between one day and one year to finish. The process breaks down into three steps:

1. Chopping an infinite number of fruits and nuts and soaking them in rum for a day or twelve. (I hear that in the Bahamas, people soak the fruits and nuts in rum for several months before assembling the cake!)

2. Baking the cake on low heat, then brushing it with brandy while it's still warm. (Fans of alcohol abstinence may substitute delectable fruit juices for the brandy glaze.)

3. Letting the cake "cure" for a day, a week, or a year...and brushing it intermittently with rum to keep it moist.

If the idea of "aging" fruitcake scares you, try to think of fruitcake as a sweet variety of cheese; it must ferment for the flavors to develop.

Do you know what this needs? More rum!

My mom went on fruitcake kick for a while. I remember her buying giant jars of red and green candied cherries for it. She doubled the recipe and filled the kitchen with gift-size fruitcakes, wrapped in colored cellophane. I'm pretty sure she skipped the rum part, but I was also too young then to know the difference. Whether boozy or not, I thought those fruitcakes were sure fun. Anything involving green maraschino cherries has to be fun, right?

Now that I've tried baking fruitcake, (loosely) based on the recipe mom used, I know that fruitcakes are a labor of love. By chopping the nuts, candying the fruits, letting the cakes age...you're basically creating an edible testament to the triumph of the human spirit. If dotty Aunt Dottie ever presents you with a home-made fruitcake, know she's also giving you hours of her hard work and thank her accordingly.


At the outset, I thought I could buy pre-candied fruits at the store, stir in the nuts and bake the cake in under an hour. When the store-bought red-and-green cherries tasted like dirt and sawdust--even after a good soak in rum--I candied the contents of our kitchen fruit bowl (tangerines) along with some cranberries and apricots. Once I candied the fruit, I thought, "In for a penny, in for a pound! Let's soak everything in rum for a day, too!"

Once the cakes baked, I wrapped them tightly and let them age in the fridge for a week, brushing them with a bit of brandy every few days. If you'd like to bake this in time for Christmas dinner, just let the filling soak in brandy all day today, then bake the cakes Christmas morning and serve. You could also start a new Christmas tradition: bake the fruitcake, wrap it tightly, and let it age in the freezer until next Christmas. People do this!


I hope you're able to incorporate some fruitcake into Christmas this year. Call it "me time" or share the prep with your family. Also, from my nutty heart to yours, have the happiest of holidays--whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule, or just winter solstice.

(I first wrote about baking these fruitcakes for OPB's Arts & Life page. They did a whole article on how people either love fruitcake or love to hate it. Check out the controversy here!)

Crazy Aunt Fruitcake
liberally adapted from Janice Scott’s Brazil Nut Loaf

Makes 2 quick bread loaves or four mini-loaves

Fruits and Nuts:

• 1 cup walnuts
• 1 cup roasted & salted cashews (Brazil nuts or pecans)
• 8 oz. pitted dates, diced (about 1 heaping cup)
• ½ cup dried apricots
• 1 cup red maraschino cherries, drained and soaked in rum
• 1 cup fresh-frozen cranberries
• ¾ cup glacéed (candied) tangerines or orange peel (with a little fruit left on) (glaze = ½ cup sugar & ½ cup water)
• 1 cup spiced rum (yes, you’ll have leftovers)
  

Batter:

• 1 1/2 C flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 1/2 C sugar
• 6 medium eggs
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla
  

The day before (or up to a week before):

Drain half the liquid from 10 oz. maraschino cherries. Replace the drained liquid with spiced rum. Let the mixture sit.

Snip the dried apricots into quarters, then soak them in a small bowl filled with hot water. Let them sit for 30 - 60 minutes while you dice the dates and prep other fruit.

Use kitchen shears to cut the dates into small squares. Place the dates in a medium-sized bowl. When the apricots are re-hydrated, drain the water and douse the fruit with spiced rum. Stir the dates and apricots well. Place a clean cloth over the bowl and let the fruits soak up more rum. Stir the fruit every so often.

Glacé the tangerines. Slice six small tangerines into quarters, using a sharp knife to cut away most of the fruit. Keep the rind plus a ¼” of fruit on each slice. Next, bring ½ cup water and ½ cup sugar (plus any tangerine juice you can save from your cutting board) to a boil in a saucepan. Stir in the tangerine rinds and let them roll on a medium boil for 5 - 10 minutes, until the skins turn semi-translucent and the syrup reduces.

While the citrus is being candied, take a cup of frozen cranberries and place them in a heat-proof bowl.

Remove glacéed tangerines from heat and poured the mixture over the cranberries. Let everything sit for a few minutes before stirring together the candied citrus, still-whole cranberries, and sweet syrup. Top with (you guessed it) rum, cover the bowl, and let the fruit sit.

On the day of baking:

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease two loaf pans. Line the pans with parchment paper, then grease the paper. Set aside.

Drain the excess brandy off the fruits, but SAVE THE LIQUID. You’ll need it later, to brush the cakes with while they cure.

Stir the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar together in a large bowl. Dump in the nuts and preserved fruits, and mix everything together with your hands. Set aside.

Wash your hands, then — using a clean, even larger bowl — beat the eggs with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla. Add in the fruit/nut mixture a cup or two at a time, mixing on a low speed. (You could also work with your hands again here.)

Pour the batter into your baking pans. Bake for between 1 ½ hours and 1 hour 45 minutes at 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Peel away the waxed paper while the loaves are still hot. Brush the cakes lightly with rum while they’re still warm.

You could eat the cake now, or you could go for the gold and:

Let the cake cool, then wrap in rum-soaked cheesecloth. Place the loaves in an air-tight container for a week, checking every so often to add more rum to the cloth. Cure the cake for at least a week or even a month in a cool place (like the fridge.)

If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
Ms. Rita's Banana Bread
Drunken berry cobbler
Dried fruit pie