Happenstance: day five

Sunday afternoon, out and about to see the nephews: fall's casualties.

Happenstance

Wednesday; before and after.

A Year of Mornings and simply breakfast.

I am an avid fan of both of these works. While there is, admittedly, something slightly voyeuristic about the intimate glimpses of the every day, what is truly charming is the quiet beauty in them. These unstructured vignettes of domesticity are peaceful, restrained, and somehow elegant all at once.

Inspired by their efforts, I am starting a little project. Outside of my regular columns, for a week I will post a photo (maybe more) of compositions that spontaneously come together; moments as I come upon them, meals as we serve them. No styling, all in a standard format, minimal (if any) post production. No fidgeting or fussing.

It is a bit of whimsy on my part, but I hope you enjoy the peek nonetheless.

Maria and Stephanie's current project; a year of evenings, is already well underway.

Almost better than pencils

A warm nibble for the cooler days ahead; spiced pumpkin scones. Photos courtesy of Deep Media.

“Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils ..."

Sometimes I think I would really like to go back to school.

I could say that it was because I wanted to be surrounded by knowledge, or that I long for the daily exchange of ideas or that I crave an opportunity to stretch my mental boundaries. But, while all of that is well and good, I must be honest.

The thing that would most excite me about back-to-school would most likely be the stationery.

My love of lists is old news, I know. But it is a continuing, relentless habit. What you might not realize though is that the quirk is even deeper-rooted than the itemized collection of things to do; in fact, lists only scratch the surface of my fondness for writing things down, getting organized, and the supplies associated with both.

The whir of a label maker makes me happy. I have spread sheets detailing gifts given for holidays over the last five years. I was recently miffed to find out that Ikea had discontinued the glass jars I like for pantry storage. I have been known to colour code paper clips to best suit the subject matter they clamp. Seriously. And yes, I got made fun of for that one.

As you can well imagine, my level of commitment to eccentricity has led me down many an aisle of a stationery store. And so then you can imagine, I have bought enough stationery to be particular in my purchases. Rollerball, not ball point pens please. A mechanical pencil with no more than a 0.5 millimetre lead, thank you.

But back to the lists. My incessant scribbles need a home, and this brings me to my greatest love of school supplies - notebooks. Oh, how I adore a brand-new notebook. Whether tiny or fat, simple in its decoration or elaborate, a notebook smacks of promise and new beginnings. Some notebooks seem to make ideas flow easier; inspiring one to sit down and put thoughts to paper.

Throughout our house, our car and in my purse, you will find notebooks. Teeny tiny scratch pads for quick reminders are tucked in the junk drawer in the kitchen. On the desk is a thin, spiral bound notepad of my father's, containing a story about a squirrel I wrote in elementary school. A collection of journals line a shelf in the den, their contents spanning years of our lives. Innumerable recipes and food thoughts are jotted down on scraps of paper and tucked into random books and magazines, or take up books of their own.

It was in one of these (many) notebooks that I came upon a recipe for Spiced Pumpkin Scones and, as a bonus, a mystery. Reading it over, I realized that I had absolutely no recognition of the words whatsoever. Though in my handwriting, with notes and substitutions in the margin, I have absolutely no remembrance of where the recipe came from, or when I heard of it.

Mysterious provenance aside, I was charmed by prospect of lightly-spiced scones; perfect for the cooler weather forecast for the weekend. They were quick work through the use of a stand mixer. Butter is blended into dry ingredients, then liquids are added to that. Dump everything out onto a work surface, knead lightly, and you're done. All that is left is to cut the dough into the desired size and bake.

A scant 15 minutes later a tray full of proudly-puffed scones are yours to be enjoyed. The addition of cake flour helps to keep them tender, while the pumpkin purée adds moisture and pleasing saffron yellowness. Lovely on their own, even better with a smear of butter and a cup of tea. Simply delicious.

Wherever this recipe came from, I am so glad I had someplace to write it down.

Some of my favourite stationery sources are:
Russel + Hazel, See Jane Work, Etsy, and of course the classic, Moleskine.

Spontaneous moments often end up overshadowing the most stylized effort. While enjoying these little bites outside, the cooling rack was momentarily placed amongst the stones. I was so taken by the texture of the crumbly, crackled scones against the gravel, I felt compelled to include the image here.

Spiced pumpkin scones
Of unknown origin, but so tasty that I am tempted to claim them as my own.

Ingredients
2 cups cake flour
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 1/2 tablespoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground clove
1 cup (1/2 pound, 2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, diced
2 eggs, beaten
1 cup canned pumpkin purée (unsweetened)
2/3 cup 18% (table, coffee) cream, chilled
1 egg beaten with 2 tablespoons of milk or cream, for egg wash
Granulated or sanding sugar, for garnish

Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Use parchment paper to line a standard baking sheet and set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, combine the flours, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spices. On the machine's lowest setting, cut in the chilled butter until the mixture resembles course meal. The butter should be in small pieces approximately the size of peas.

Lightly whisk together the eggs, pumpkin purée and cream. With the machine running still on low (or stir), pour the liquids slowly into the flour and butter mixture, stirring until just combined. Small bits of butter should still be visible, but almost all the flour should be incorporated.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Working quickly, gently knead the dough, folding and pressing gently until fairly smooth. Divide the dough into four, and shape each ball of dough into a 4" round about 3/4"-1" thick. Cut each round into six wedges, and place on the prepared baking sheet. Once finished, brush each scone with the egg wash and sprinkle with granulated or sanding sugar.

Bake in preheated oven for about 15 minutes, or until the the tops are lightly golden and the cut sides look flaky and dry. When fully cooked, they should feel light for their size and sound almost hollow when tapped underneath. Cool on a wire rack for at least 5 minutes. Best served warm.

Makes 24 medium scones.

Notes:

• 1 tablespoon of pumpkin pie spice can be substituted for the individual spices.
• The scones can be frozen before baking. After cutting them out, place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet and freeze uncovered. Once firm to the touch, remove to an airtight container or a freezer bag and store. To bake, take the scones from the freezer and preheat the oven. Wait 10 extra minutes after your oven has reached temperature, then egg wash and sugar the scones. Bake for 15-18 minutes, until cooked through.
• These can be made without the aid of a stand mixer. Use a pastry cutter or two knives to cut the butter into the flour, then stir in the wet ingredients. Do not over mix, stir until just blended. From here, the method remains the same.
• If your kitchen is very warm, chill the cut scones for 15 minutes before baking for best results.

From the produce section, with love

When my brother and I were growing up, I do not remember having an option when it came to vegetables. Wait, I should clarify. It was not that there was a lack of variety in the vegetables placed before us, it was that we were never really given the option of trying them or not – we just did. We ate everything.

I’ll admit my Mother may be the better resource on this, but I do not remember there ever being a vegetable my brother or I would simply not eat (sure, there were ones that were not favourites). I recall being aghast when watching television and witnessing kid surreptitiously hide some Brussels sprouts in a napkin.

The thought had never dawned on me – I mean, why would anyone not want to eat a Brussels sprout? It was a completely foreign concept to my 7-year-old brain. Admittedly, our cocker spaniel did love corn, so he would have probably appreciated any scraps had we been willing to part with them.

We were lucky to be exposed to a wide array of vegetables, from a young age. We happily gobbled up steamed broccoli, curried cauliflower, peas in our aloo (potato) subsi, okra, spinach, beans of all sort, along with pulses and lentils. We even knew the three sides to one of our favourites — a vegetable that could be an aubergine when my grandmother was cooking, then transform itself into eggplant parmigiana at our neighbour’s house, and still be called baigan and brinjal when my Mom or Dad made Indian food.

My love for vegetables has carried me to adulthood, as I’ve expanded my repertoire to include new preparations and cooking methods. Nothing is better come springtime than roasted asparagus, more welcomed in summer than marinated salads, or more comforting in winter than braised leeks served alongside grilled meats.

S, on the other hand has not always been keen on our leafy and tuberous friends. Up until a few years ago, I could not even convince him that the noble onion was something that should pass his lips now and again. Luckily for me, a sojourn in some far-off lands opened up his culinary horizons and he is now my willing taste-tester. Though I’ll admit, I’ve not yet heard him say he ‘craved’ a vegetable – but I’m sure we’re on our way.

The many-named eggplant has been a perennial favourite, so when it came to deciding on what to make this past weekend, it was the obvious choice. Roasted in the oven, then used to top crunchy layers of puff pastry and a silky, rich filling of onions and herbed chèvre, the flavours were pronouncedly fall and the balance of textures exactly what I was looking for.

I sent one of these tarts to my parents this week; I hope they consider it a small thank you for all those years of ‘forcing’ me to eat my vegetables.

Roasted eggplant tart, with caramelized onions and chèvre

1 large globe eggplant
1 sheet puff pastry, thawed as per package instructions
2 small onions, halved and then sliced finely
100 g (3 oz) chèvre, softened and divided
100 g (3 oz) cream cheese, softened
2 tablespoons mixed fresh herbs (or more to taste), I used chives, parsley and thyme
5-10 cloves garlic, roasted and crushed into a paste
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Olive oil

Preheat oven to 425º F (220º C).

Slice eggplant into 1/2" rounds. Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper. Place in a single layer on a baking sheet and roast for 12 minutes. Turn the slices and roast for another 12 minutes, until lightly golden and soft. Alternatively, you can sauté the slices over medium heat. Set aside.

Reduce oven temperature to 400ºF (200º C).

On a floured surface, roll out the puff pastry to16”by 10”, trim any edges to form a neat rectangle. With a paring knife, score a 1” border around the edge of the pastry. Place on baking sheet. Prick (dock) the interior of the rectangle all over with a fork, to prevent excessive rising. Bake for 15 minutes, or until an even pale golden brown. Depending on your oven, you may need to rotate the pan halfway through the baking. Set aside on rack to cool (do not remove from baking sheet).

Meanwhile in a small saucepan with a tight-fitting lid, sauté the onions along with 1 teaspoon of salt. After the onions have become translucent cover and continue to cook, stirring frequently, for 15 minutes or until caramelized. Remove from heat, uncover and allow to cool.

In a small bowl, blend together half the chèvre, all the cream cheese and the herbs. Depending on the type used, you may need to loosen the mixture with a teaspoon of olive oil. You are looking for a lightly whipped, spreadable consistency. Season with salt and pepper, and set aside.

Being careful not to crush the pastry, spread the garlic paste over the crust. Top with the cheese mixture, followed by the caramelized onions. Arrange roasted eggplant over the onions and top with the reserved chèvre. Drizzle with a bit of olive oil, if desired.

Bake for 10 minutes, or until cheese starts to brown and the eggplant is warmed through. Can be eaten warm or at room temperature.

Serves 4.

Notes:
• For the ruffled effect shown with the puff pastry, I used a removable-bottomed tart pan with a fluted edge.
• Lemon zest and/or juice are welcome additions to the herbed cheese mixture.
• Any roasted vegetable would be excellent with this combination; tomatoes, zucchini or mushrooms are all suitable.
• Omit the chèvre and substitute an equal amount of a blue cheese for the filling.

Celebrating the start of something good

As I was discussing with a friend recently, fall has a very specific personality to it. While I love summer for all its brightness and enthusiasm, this time of year seems bring along a sense of hospitality. The market is still filled with colour, albeit from a kaleidoscope of rainbow hues to a wash of sunset shades. Now is the time to start braising meats and revisiting classic cold-weather comfort food. It is this idea of hearth and home, of generosity and bounty, that truly makes autumn my favourite season.

It was with this thought in mind that I started thinking about what to do with the apples I had from Schouwenaar Orchards and Vineyards. It was the weekend after the official start to fall, and I was looking for something that was homey and comforting. As I padded through the house in my slippers and robe, my gaze fell across the most recent edition of Everyday Food Magazine. Curled up to our breakfast counter, perched on a stool and with hands wrapped firmly around a warm mug, I flipped through the pages until I came upon an in-depth article on apples — with recipes both savoury and sweet, including one for an applesauce cake.

Remembering a favourite recipe for homemade applesauce using apple cider, I switched my mug for a peeler and started to work. Using a mix of Redcort, McIntosh and Galas, I happily worked away, and soon the kitchen was filled with the smells of mulled spices and the cooking fruit. What a perfect way to start a Saturday.

Once it had cooled I was left with a slightly tart, but sweetly balanced, sauce. With this success boosting my confidence, I turned to the cake recipe. As I’ve mentioned before, I'm not one to leave well enough alone — so I gave into my need to fiddle and started scribbling notes.

I had just received the thoughtful gift of miniature tube pans from my mother, so they had to be used, no doubt about it. The magazine called for light brown sugar only, but instead I included a bit of Demerara sugar, wanting the depth of almost burnt sweetness it brings. I also omitted the cardamom, as my cider applesauce was highly spiced. In one batch, I switched out the honey for maple syrup, for no other reason that I thought the spicy caramel taste would bring another note to compliment the apples.

Apple cider applesauce
Well-flavoured and slightly tangy, this is a great simple applesauce to use alone or in cooking. It has more character than store bought varieties, and comes together quite quickly. As an added bonus, your kitchen will smell heavenly as it cooks. You can use a mulled cider for this recipe, but may want to omit the cinnamon called for.

3 pounds apples, peeled, cored and cut into ½” slices (or thereabouts)
1 cinnamon stick or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup apple cider
2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Honey (optional)

In a large saucepan, combine apples, cinnamon and cider and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce heat, let simmer for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the sauce looks too dry at any time, add a few tablespoons of water.

When apples are tender, remove from heat and discard cinnamon stick (if using). Stir in lemon juice, and check for sweetness. If needed, add honey to taste, to balance flavours.

Makes approximately 4 cups.

Notes
• Sugar can be used instead of the honey, but should then be added before the apples are fully cooled so that it can dissolve. I find honey a much more mellow sweet, and enjoy the resiny depth it adds.

Applesauce Cake
Inspired by the recipe published in Everyday Food.

Non-stick cooking spray
3 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and levelled)
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon (you may omit this if you used a heavily-mulled cider in the applesauce)
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 ½ cups packed light brown sugar
½ cup Demerara sugar
¼ cup maple syrup or honey
2 large eggs
2 cups apple cider applesauce (or store-bought)

Icing/confectioner’s sugar (optional)

Preheat oven to 175° C (350°F).

Generously coat twelve 1 cup capacity miniature tube pans (usually in available in sheets of six), or a 10 inch tube pan.

In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.

In the bowl of an electric mixer (or using a handheld), beat together butter, brown sugars and maple syrup/honey until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating until well combined. The mixture should be pale and airy. With mixer on low, gradually add spoonfuls of the flour mixture, mixing until just combined. Beat in applesauce.

Spoon batter into prepared pans, smoothing the tops. Bake until a toothpick or cake tester comes out mostly clean (slightly wet) when inserted in the middle of the cake, 12-18 minutes with the miniature pans, or 50-60 using a traditional tube pan. Be sure not to over bake.

Cool in pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Invert onto a cutting board or baking sheet, and then again onto rack, top side up. Allow to cool completely. Serve either top or bottom side up (I liked the bottoms), with a light dusting of icing sugar.

Notes:
• Can be served alone, or with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream or a dollop of maple whipped cream.
• This cake keeps well, wrapped in the fridge. The flavours will mellow and blend.
• This batter is also good when baked in muffin tins - served with a bit of sweet butter, they make a lovely snack or breakfast.