Ghost post!

I apologize for the mysterious appearance of an incomplete grits recipe. This is me, staring at my shoes in shame.

Boo hoo!

I should keep these wayward recipes in check.

"Get back, rogue recipe! Get back before I hit you with the spatula!"

There. It is subdued.

I've got a tasty use for strawberries, rhubarb, and a boat-load of butter coming up soon. Until then, enjoy the reprieve...or a repeat!

Easy tamale pie
Slow-roasted tomatoes
Spearmint lemonade with rosewater

Meringues noir: chewy and dark

We're calling 2010 "The Year of No Summer" around the office. It's been warmer on Mars this week than in Portland. Despite the constant sunshine that weather forecasts promise, the sky's always covered in rumply clouds. I don't believe meteorologists in Portland know how to read their radar. They're just nice men in dark suits!

Oh well. I'm adjusting to the darkness and gloom, wearing it like a long duster coat. I'm using the cloudy light to work on my photography. The folks at Action Fast Photo provide me with encouragement, film, and good cheer. My photos are softly lit and murky. Aloof and mysterious, they move within the dark underbelly of photo processing.

Take these meringues, for example.


They're not pink, puffy pavlovas sold in French pâtisseries. They're meringues noir. Dark, untrustworthy. A slick, crispy exterior gives way to a chewy and mysterious middle--punctuated by dots of bitter cocoa. They're best eaten in haunted amusement parks, on leaf-littered stoops, or with black Stumptown brew in the Shanghai tunnels downtown. They'll lurk in dark corners of the seedy café* near my home, with ne'er-do-well short stories.

I make these meringues in two varieties: evil and supremely evil, based on the amount of cocoa powder in the batch. Evil meringues contain a hefty tablespoon of cocoa, have a glossy finish and a crispy bite. Supremely evil meringues have twice the cocoa punch--so much that the cocoa threatens to break the sugary-hard meringue shell. You'll sacrifice a bit of strength for intense flavor if you choose the supremely evil route.

Meringues noir are tough enough to stand alone, but they also camp indiscriminately with coffee, tea, fresh berries, and smashed into ice creams and yogurts. And speaking of camping, the next time you make s'mores, bringing these meringues along instead of marshmallows. Their intense flavor will darken your campfire tales.



Meringues noir
adapted from petites meringues at C & Z

• 3 large egg whites, room temperature
• 3/4 cup + 2 Tb. turbinado sugar
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
• 1-2 heaping tablespoon(s) cocoa powder
• 1/3 cup raw cocoa nibs

Preheat your oven to 285 degrees. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set them aside.

Whisk egg whites in a clean bowl (one with no traces of fat lingering) until soft peaks form. Whisk continuously as you add sugar, one tablespoon at a time. Make sure each spoonful of sugar is incorporated fully before adding more. Once the mixture is firm and glossy, whisk in the vanilla and the cocoa powder at a lower speed. Use a spatula to stir in the cocoa nibs.

Using two spoons, plop ping pong- to golf ball-sized globs of meringue on a the baking sheets. The meringues will almost double in width while baking, so don't crowd them on the sheet.

Bake in the oven for 45 minutes to attain soft-centered meringues, or 1 hour for crunchy ones. Let them cool completely, then munch away. Store leftovers in an airtight container for up to two weeks.



If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:

Vanilla mint French meringues
Chocolate champagne truffles
Dark chocolate cookies with espresso

*There's a mysterious café near my home that I can't help but call shady It's hours wildly fluctuate (regardless of the hours posted at the door.) When it is open, it's populated with intense, solemn men--only ever men--who smoke cigarettes. They speak in closed circles and stare when strangers pass. Oh, and they never drink coffee.

Carrots from 6,000 feet above sea level

You'd think that the arrival of digital photography would speed up my photo turnaround. Since I no longer have to wait on photo processing and my ancient scanner, I should have uploaded pictures from our trip to Mt. Hood last weekend on, oh, Sunday night.

If laziness (l) was not also a variable in this equation, the solution would have equaled a reasonable turnaround of photos, or:

(Photos Taken on Saturday (p) + Time to Download Photos (t) + Uploading Photos to Internet (u)) - Original Film Processing Time (f) = Reasonable Turnaround of Photos (r)

(p + t + u) - f = r

Instead, I got this:

((p + t+ u) - f) + l = b (Breaking of Kate's Self-Imposed Blog Deadline)

If you solve this equation for l, you can calculate the exact amount of laziness I have added to the end product (b). Math is not one of my strong suits. Oh well. Onward and upward!

Raymond and I celebrated four years of marriage (yay!) over Memorial Day weekend by enjoying some live jazz with friends from KMHD on Friday, then taking a day trip to Mt. Hood on Saturday.

By early afternoon, the clouds hovering near the Columbia River Gorge had disappeared, and Hood River, Oregon, was sunny and covered in spring green. It seemed like our whole route from Hood River to Mt. Hood was lined with peach and cherry orchards - on both sides of the road. We stopped to buy some strawberry-rhubarb jam and take some photos of the mountain rising from the fields (as in the photo above) before pressing on.

We listened to A Prairie Home Companion and climbed Mount Hood Highway until we found our destination at 6,000 feet above sea level, the Timberline Lodge. As we walked to the lodge's entrance, I remember saying to Raymond, "Look at how gigantic it is! It reminds me of the Overlook Hotel in The Shining."

looking down from the second floor

No wonder I got the heebie jeebies: all of the external Overlook Hotel shots in The Shining were actually pictures of this lodge. (You won't find the Timberline's website trumpeting that fact, but you can learn more here.)

Constructed in the Great Depression as a WPA project, the Timberline Lodge now attracts skiers, snowboarders and random tourists (like us) all year round. Actually, over a million people visit annually to ski, stay overnight, enjoy a formal dinner or roast their toes in front of the giant lobby fireplace. Raymond and I ate dinner in one of the informal bars, and we got the best mountain views! Other visitors kept stopping by while we ate to check out the scenery.

Raymond, engrossed in a brochure

We enjoyed our meal--he chose a pulled pork sandwich and I had a cheese and smoked salmon plate--but they both arrived with a mountain of carrots. Between our two plates, the chef blessed us with almost a whole pound of baby carrots. We tried to finish them. Heroics were involved. We filled every available stomach nook with carrots, enjoyed the view, and then redoubled our efforts.

But we failed, of course. It's a pound of carrots! Plus dinner! With heavy hearts (and stomachs) we took the carrots home, drove down Mt. Hood and an hour-and-a-half back to Portland with a carry-out container of shame. On Sunday, I cooked them in butter and brown sugar and some garden herbs. You know, it's hard to strike out with leftovers when they're cooked in butter.

Glazed carrots and zucchini
serves 2

• 1/2 pound baby carrots
• 1 small zucchini squash, diced
  
• 2 Tb. unsalted butter
• 1 Tb. brown sugar
• 2 sprigs fresh thyme, chopped
  
• 1 small sprig fresh rosemary, chopped finely
• sea salt to taste
  

Melt the butter over medium heat in a small skillet. Stir in the brown sugar and raise the heat to medium-high. Add the zucchini and carrots, and stir until they're all coated in sweet, buttery goodness.

Saute the veggies, stirring occasionally, for 10 - 15 minutes, or until the zucchini starts to develop a light brown skin and the carrots are tender. Toss in the fresh herbs and a pinch of sea salt. Cook for a minute more, then serve hot. Pairs well with a Stephen King novel.

If you liked this post, you may also enjoy:

Slow-roasted tomatoes
Butternut squash gratin
Three-minute strawberry salad

Sweet, hot, salty, fried

My earnest supplications to the Teen-aged Weather Gods have gone unanswered, and Portland will again be besieged with rain, every day, until Sunday. Then--I think--summer will begin in earnest. Hopefully. If www.weather.com is a reliable source. This weather makes me want to putter about in my pink fuzzy slippers, dragging around a good novel like a security blanket.


My neighbor, Kristen, has officially thumbed her nose at the gray skies above. When the plants in her yard started drowning from the downpour, she put on her rubber boots and grabbed a shovel. She dug up all her little plant starts and transferred them to pots with dry soil under their porch awning. Kristen says her broccoli is flourishing, and if it could talk it would say, "Thank you for saving us!"


Actually, Kristen is convinced her broccoli can talk and that is simply chosen not to speak in her presence. This is her way and I appreciate it. My way of thumbing my nose at the heavens above involves a skillet and a lot of heat. I've been heating our home for the past week using only our stove, cooking warm dish after warm dish.

We've been eating cheese grits, spaghetti marinara, "macaroni surprise" - a husband invention - and soup, soup, soup. I like to keep some tasty tofu around in case of soup. And this last batch combined all of the flavors this insistent rain makes me crave: sweet, hot, salty, and fried.

If you're moping around the house (for weather-related or other reasons) slice up some tofu, grab some jam, and heat up a skillet.


Oven-fried tofu with chili and jam
serves 4

• 1 pound firm tofu, drained
  
• 1/4 - 1/3 cup sesame or coconut oil (or a mixture of both)
• 2 Tb. Sriracha chili sauce
• 3 Tb. soy sauce
• 1 heaping spoon cranberry relish, raspberry or lingonberry jam
• 3 cloves garlic, sliced thin
• 1/2 tsp. chili powder or 1 tsp. red pepper flakes
  
• 1/2 tsp. salt, for garnish (optional)

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and melt 1/2 of the coconut oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Drain the tofu and pat it dry with a paper towel, then slice the whole pound into 1/2" cubes. Once the coconut oil is nice and hot (but not burning) add the tofu and give it a stir to coat the cubes in oil.

Let the tofu fry, on medium-high heat, for several minutes until tofu is browned on the bottom. Use a flat spatula to turn the tofu and cook for another 5 minutes. Toss in the sliced garlic. By now, the tofu should still be "soft" and springy, but lightly seared on the sides.

Stir together the chili sauce, soy sauce, and relish or jam. Pour the mixture on the tofu and make sure all pieces are coated. Add the rest of the coconut oil to the skillet and transfer the tofu to the oven to finish crisping. The tofu should be completely "fried" in another 10 - 20 minutes, according to your tastes. Stir in the chili powder and salt and serve. (I usually juggle pan-frying my tofu with really important tasks like watching TV and reading, so for me, this last process varies wildly.)

How should you enjoy the finished tofu? Snack on it alone or stir it in with some noodles and fresh chives or spring onions. Turn it into a soup with a savory broth and some egg flour noodles, garnished with sesame seeds. Use it in a vegetable stir fry with rice. It's all you.

If you enjoyed this post, you might also like:

Sweet n' spicy curried nut mix
Easy tamale pie
Cajun potatoes