persimmon and spelt waffles

It started snowing last night shortly after we went to bed. There is a narrow gap between the curtain rod and window frame in our bedroom, through which we can see the sky as we fall asleep; when it snows, occasionally a fat flake will fall in front of the sensor on porch light, startling it awake and illuminating the thousands of snowflakes slowly falling outside. I love watching the snow through my slice of a window while snuggled in bed. Having grown up on the west coast and having lived for years as an adult in a climate supportive of banana trees, I never thought I would love living in the snow, but I do, I really, really love it.  I am a Pacific Northwesterner at heart, and snow is usually the closest thing we get to fog and rain in the high desert. It helps me rationalize my wintertime yearnings for baked goods, braises, and beverages served in mugs (which, to me, are not the same taken on cloudless, sunny days).

I woke up early-ish (is 10:00am on a Sunday early?) this morning and made these waffles with the persimmons that have been slowly ripening on our counter for weeks.  They are reminiscent of one of Richard's mom's holiday cookie recipes, which are made with puréed persimmons mixed with cinnamon and cloves and flecked with raisins; the mounded batter bakes into tiny, delicate cakes which are best eaten straight from the oven with a tall glass of milk.  These waffles, too, are spiced and have a cake-like texture that nicely bridges Richard's love of waffles with my preference for pancakes.

Persimmons are a strange fruit, and normal logic doesn't always apply when using them in recipes. While Fuyu persimmons may be eaten at any stage of ripeness (and are especially good in salads when still firm), you should only eat a hard Hachiya or American persimmon if you are looking for an in-depth experience in astringency. It is when they look their worst that they are at their best, and their wrinkly skin hides flesh so sugar saturated that it has the translucence and sheen of warm apricot jam. Ripening the persimmons to this stage is called "bletting," and refers to the sweet spot in time between just-past-the-moment-when-you-think-they-are-ripe and decay, when the tannins normally present in the fruit have been almost completely replaced by sugars.  If you barely poked one of the persimmons I used with your finger, you would have left a permanent dent in its surface. You can leave hard persimmons on your counter to ripen; it may take anywhere from a few days to two weeks, so I would imagine that you could use pumpkin purée in their place in this recipe should you need instant waffle gratification.

Side note: Wikipedia has a fascinating paragraph about unripened persimmons, which will make you more comfortable with consuming both the off-looking fruit and Coca-cola; neat!

Persimmon and Spelt Waffles
adapted from Betty Rosbottom's buttermilk waffle recipe

1 cup all-purpose flour or gluten-free all-purpose flour blend
3/4 cup spelt flour or whole wheat flour
4 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
generous 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 ripe Hachiya persimmons Milk (whole cow's milk or nut milk)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled (v option: replace with coconut oil)

Preheat a waffle iron; if you plan to make all of the waffles before serving time, preheat your oven to 200˚F.

In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and cloves.  In a large bowl, whisk the eggs to break up the yolks and the whites.  Set both bowls aside.

Peel the persimmons using your hands; if the fruits are ripe, the skins should easily come away from the flesh.  Don't get too broken up about some flesh sticking to the skins, as you can gently scrape it off once the fruits have been peeled.  Discard the skins, or give them to your chickens (who will loooove you). If you have an immersion blender, place the persimmon pulp into a measuring cup which holds at least two cups of liquid, and purée the mixture thoroughly.  If you are using a stand blender, blend the persimmon pulp thoroughly, and pour into a measuring cup which holds at least two cups of liquid.  Add enough milk (cow or plant) to the measuring cup so that you have two cups liquid in total, then pour back into the blender (or use your immersion blender) to briefly blend again.

Pour the persimmon-milk mixture into the eggs, add the vanilla and melted butter, and whisk to blend.  Add the flour and spice mixture, and whisk just until the ingredients are combined and you no longer see any flour streaks.

Pour about 1/3-1/2 cup batter (depending on the size of your waffle iron) into the waffle iron, and gently spread the batter to within 1 inch from the edge.  Close the cover and cook for 3-5 minutes, or until crisp and golden brown.  Serve the waffles immediately, or place them in a single layer on racks in the preheated oven while you finish with the remaining batter.

Topping ideas: If you told the six-year old me that I would ever like topping my waffles with something other than straight maple syrup, I would have thought you had a bat in your attic. But these days I'm really liking the fruit/syrup or fruit/nut/syrup combinations.  Keep in mind that persimmons are mild in flavor, so you'll want to use fruit that is equally mild (such as... more persimmons).  The pecans were from my never-ending quest to crack the code behind this pecan recipe, but it's your call whether you choose to include something similar.

pantry pea velouté with curry and lemon

This week has been a flurry of travels, family time, dog adventures, stresses, cooking, and happiness.  And then, like that, we slowed things down for just a moment and I woke up sniffly and headachy and car-runneth-me-over-y.  I am not very good at caring for myself when I am sick; I am better at caring for others, by way of soup, tea, entertainment (in the form of 2nd grade-level jokes and/or interpretive dance moves), and collaborative movie-watching.  When I am sick, there is little I feel like doing other than couching-it hardcore, eating toast, and watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

Those kinds of things are cathartic, and they also help you forget that you are in a house which is lacking in groceries and general stuff that makes sick people better.  This makes for a sad 5 minutes of shuffling around the kitchen while wrapped babushka-style in a blanket. But, after a little scrounging, maybe you find a bag of frozen peas.  Some butter.  An old onion, and a little curry powder. Plus a lonely fridge lemon. And you think, hey, I could totally make soup with this.  So you do. And it kind of rocks.

And you feel better.

(And you call your soup "velouté" because it helps you to feel fancy in spite of your red nose and raging case of bedhead.)

Pantry Pea Velouté with Curry and Lemon
This recipe is very loosely based on an amazing soup that my Aunt Diane makes regularly.  Her version has half-and-half, but I've made it before with whole milk or coconut milk (so creamy, so vegan) and loved it just as much.  Dealer's choice on this one.  Also, apologies in advance for all the notes by the ingredients, though I hope they make you confident in your ability to make this soup since apparently you can forget almost 30% of the ingredients and have it still be awesome.

2 tablespoons butter, ghee, or coconut oil 1 onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (omit if making GF)
1 tablespoon curry powder
4 cups chicken stock, vegetable stock, or water (I used water this time, which gives you a clean, bright soup, albeit with less depth)
1 large pinch kosher salt
1 large pinch sugar (optional; I forgot to add this, and I didn't really miss it... though keep in mind my nose is stopped up)
1 pound frozen peas (equivalent to 1 bag)
1/2 pound frozen spinach (again, I forgot this... whoops)
1/2-1 cup half-and-half, whole milk, or coconut milk (yup, didn't add this either)
lemon juice, to taste

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Melt the butter, ghee, or coconut oil in a pot over medium-low heat.  Add the chopped onion and sauté, stirring occasionally, until the onion softens and becomes translucent (5-7 minutes).  Add the flour and curry powder to the onions, and stir continuously for a couple of minutes while the flour cooks.  Add a little stock or water and stir up any flour stuck to the bottom of your pan, then add the rest of the stock, the salt, and the sugar (if using), and let everything simmer for 5 minutes.

Add the frozen peas and spinach (if using) to the pot, and let everything simmer for 15 minutes.  Take the pot off of the heat, and purée the soup using a stand blender or immersion blender.  Add the half-and-half, whole milk, or coconut milk, and stir to combine.  Taste soup, and add lemon juice for brightness and additional salt if necessary.

Optional garnishes - I've had this with buttered croutons (amazing), creme fraîche (amazing), and lemon yogurt (yummmmmy).  The soup in the picture is topped with yogurt mixed with a little lemon juice and some piment d'Espelette for color and a smidge of heat (just in case you were wondering!).

roasted vegetable soup with brown butter and sage

I am a soup person 365 days out of the year, but if I had to limit my intake to one season, it would be winter. There is a place in my heart that goes soft for homely cabbages and cauliflower, and especially so for squash. While summer vegetables like tomatoes tend to play a harmonic role in soup, with a constant, identifiable presence, winter vegetables are melodic and subtle and infinitely supportive of complex flavors.  They can be gently nudged towards sweetness, or given immense savory depth.  I especially love swirling bright green, herby oils into creamy squash soups, a crucial addition to help stave off my longing for spring.

The following recipe is based on the classic flavor trio of butternut squash, browned butter, and sage, but the soup itself is basic enough that it can be drastically altered by the garnishes and flavorings.  I've included a few ideas below, and I would love to hear the ways in which you choose to enjoy this soup yourself.  But if I may offer a suggestion, I think you should make the sage breadcrumbs regardless of whether you plan to use them on the soup.  They keep for weeks, though they probably won't last very long since, if you're like me, you'll want to sprinkle them over everything.

Roasted Vegetable Soup with Browned Butter and Sage
serves 4-6 as a starter

1 butternut squash (weighing about 2 pounds), peeled and cut into large (1 1/2-inch) chunks
4 small parsnips, peeled, cut into 1 1/2-inch chunks
1 cauliflower, cut into florets
olive oil
3 tablespoons butter
1 onion, diced
2 cups sliced leeks (roughly 2 medium leeks; once sliced, rinse thoroughly to remove any grit, then drain before using)
lemon juice, to taste
salt, to taste

For the garnish:
A small knob of butter (1 1/2 - 2 tablespoons)
1 cup fresh breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons chopped fresh sage + 12 small fresh sage leaves
osher salt

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Preheat the oven to 400˚F.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  Place the butternut squash and parsnips together on one baking sheet, and drizzle with olive oil.  Place the cauliflower florets on the second baking sheet, and drizzle with olive oil.  Put both baking sheets in the preheated oven, and roast, turning occasionally, until the vegetables are fork tender and beginning to turn golden brown (20-30 minutes).

Meanwhile, heat the 3 tablespoons of butter in a large pot over medium-low heat, and add the onions and leeks.  Cook slowly, stirring frequently, until the onions and leeks are soft, translucent, and taste mellow and sweet.  Add the butternut squash, parsnips, and half of the roasted cauliflower (reserve the rest) to the onions and leeks, plus a pinch of salt, and pour in enough cold water to just cover the vegetables.  Bring to a simmer, and cook for about 10-15 minutes to further soften the vegetables.

Once the vegetables are soft, turn off the heat and purée the soup using a stand blender or immersion blender.  Add additional water if necessary to create a soupier consistency, and season to taste with lemon juice and salt (you should not be able to taste the lemon juice, but it will brighten and heighten the flavors of the soup, as will the salt).  Divide soup among bowls.  Garnish with the sage breadcrumbs, reserved cauliflower, and fried sage leaves, and serve immediately.

For the sage breadcrumbs: heat most of the butter in a small frying pan over medium heat, and add breadcrumbs.  Cook, stirring frequently, until breadcrumbs color and begin to turn golden brown.  Scoot the breadcrumbs over to 1 side of the pan, add a small pat of butter to the empty space, and add the chopped sage leaves.  Let fry in the butter for a minute, then mix them into the breadcrumbs.  Season with a good pinch of salt, and remove to a dish to stop the cooking.  The breadcrumbs may be made in advance and stored in an airtight container in a cool, dry place.

For the fried sage leaves and browned butter: heat butter in a small frying pan over medium heat.  Cook for a few minutes, paying attention when the butter stops foaming and begins to brown.  Keep cooking for a few more minutes until the butter approaches a golden brown color, then add the sage leaves.  Fry the sage leaves in the butter until they stiffen and crisp, but are still a bit green (they will darken a little).  Remove leaves to a towel or paper towel lined plate, and continue to cook butter until it reaches an amber color.  Immediately take butter off of the heat, and remove to a dish to stop the cooking.  The sage leaves and butter may be made a few hours in advance; gently reheat the butter on the stove or in a microwave before using it to garnish the soup.

Other ideas for garnishes/additions: Roasted chickpeas, yogurt, and harissa Toasted pepitas, salsa verde, and crema Toasted walnuts, fried sage, and crumbled goat cheese

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easie's refrigerator rolls

I can understand if you think we're all about the pancakes and bread and cookies and rolls in this house. (I'm looking at the past few weeks of posts myself and thinking, phoo, that's a lot of carbs!)  That's actually not the case, and I fully intended to give you a vegetable-rich dish this week, but I'm willing to risk a bread-heavy reputation in order to get you these rolls in time for Thanksgiving.

Easie's refrigerator roll recipe was gifted to my mom by a very generous friend, and they have since become the stuff of legend among members of our family.  They have been present at Thanksgiving every year for at least the past decade.  They are what I think of when I hear the word "cakebread;" the shortening and sugar make them tender and sweet, and they are light enough that you can eat 3 of them and still feel confident in your stomach's capacity for pie (and believe me, you will eat 3 of them). If you are curious about the shortening, I tried making them with butter and ended up with a tasty, but somewhat denser result.  So I would like to play a devil's advocate card and encourage you to use shortening if possible, especially if you're like us and will only make this recipe once a year.

If you defy the laws of the universe and end up with leftover rolls, send them to me (!!!) or enjoy them with butter and jam for the next morning's breakfast.

Easie's Refrigerator Rolls
Adapted from Tre's recipe - Makes 60 small rolls (cut with a 1 1/2 inch biscuit cutter)

A few dough-rising notes: the time the dough spends in the fridge makes it rise VERY slowly.  You may be confused or concerned in the apparent lack of yeast activity, and you're not alone.  As long as you know the yeast was alive after you added it to the milk, sugar, and flour (i.e. you saw it bubble up after a couple of hours), you should be in a good place with the dough.  Give yourself enough time to let the dough rise the day of your Thanksgiving dinner by taking it out of the fridge when you wake up in the morning.  It can hang out for a few hours while you prep other dishes before it needs to be rolled out and cut.

2 cups milk
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup Crisco
1 package active dry yeast (2 1/2 teaspoons)
About 6 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 heaping teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

In a saucepan over medium-low heat, gently heat milk, sugar and Crisco just until Crisco melts, stirring occasionally.  Set aside to cool to 105-110 degrees F (if you don't have a thermometer, cool until it is barely warmer than room temperature).  Once cooled, add 1 package yeast to the mixture and stir to dissolve.  Add enough flour to make a thick batter (about 2 cups flour), and transfer the mixture to a large bowl.  Cover and let stand in a warm place for 2 hours; it should begin to rise and bubble.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the salt, baking powder, baking soda, and 3 1/2 cups of the remaining flour.  Add the flour mixture to the milk mixture and mix to combine.  It is not necessary to knead this dough, but bat it while adding the flour.  If the dough is wet or sticky, add the remaining 1/2 cup flour.  Place dough in refrigerator, covered, overnight.

Remove in the morning to bring up to room temperature (this will take 2-3 hours).  Roll out on floured board or wax paper.  Cut into rounds with a 1 1/2 inch biscuit cutter, and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet; space them according to how soft/browned you'd like them to be (1/2 inch apart for soft, light-colored sides, 1 inch or greater for more all-over browned rolls).  Cover and let rise in a warm place 2 1/2 hours.

While the rolls are rising, place a rack in the top third of your oven and preheat the oven to 400˚F.

Bake the rolls for 10-12 minutes, or until the tops are beginning to brown (placing the rolls closer to the top of the oven will encourage faster browning).  Place in a napkin lined basket or bowl to keep warm.  These rolls are best enjoyed the same day they're made.

triple-ginger cookies

This post is short, as is fitting when you find a recipe which is exemplary and needs no embellishment. You can wait to make these in celebration of a winter holiday, but really, what is the point in waiting? If you make the dough in the morning, you can roll and bake them at night and have almost immediate cookie gratification. And then, the next morning, you can crumble one into your muesli because that is one of the pleasures of being a grown up.

Triple-Ginger Snaps
lightly adapted from Miette

Notes: you don't even really need the icing on these (in fact, I almost prefer them without), but they add to the presentation and make for a festive addition to your holiday cookie repertoire.  Baking the cookies for 12 minutes instead of 10 will give you a more traditional, snappier texture, though I like the slightly soft texture of the 10-minute cookies.

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour or gluten-free all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon ground ginger
generous 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
scant 1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup lightly packed golden brown sugar
2 tablespoons honey
4 tablespoons molasses
2 teaspoons fresh ginger purée (make by grating fresh ginger root on a microplane)
1/2 cup finely minced candied ginger
PTIONAL: turbinado sugar for sprinkling or royal icing (see recipe below) for decorating

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Sift together the flours with the salt and spices, and set aside.  In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the butter and sugar on low speed until fluffy, 4 to 5 minutes.  Add the honey, molasses, and fresh ginger purée and mix until fully incorporated.

Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture in three additions, scraping down the bowl and beating just to combine after each addition, stopping after the last addition when very little of the flour is still visible and the dough is smoother and forming into a mass.  Briefly mix in the candied ginger until it is evenly distributed in the dough.  Form the dough into a disk, wrap tightly in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or up to 2 days before rolling.

Preheat the oven to 350˚F.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Roll the dough on a lightly floured surface to about 1/4 inch thick.  Cut with a 3-inch round or scalloped round cutter and place on baking sheets about 1/2 inch apart.  Sprinkle each cookie with turbinado sugar if desired.  Bake until deeply browned, 10-12 minutes (I baked mine for 10, and loved the texture).  Remove to a wire rack to cool.  Decorate with royal icing if desired, and store in airtight containers for up to two weeks.

Royal Icing
adapted from Alton Brown - Makes about 3 cups

3 pasteurized egg whites
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 cups powdered sugar

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the egg whites and vanilla together until frothy.  Gradually add the powdered sugar and beat on low speed until the sugar is incorporated and the mixture is shiny.  Turn the speed up to high and beat for about 5-7 minutes, or until the mixture forms stiff, glossy peaks.  Add food coloring if desired.  For immediate use, transfer to a piping bag or plastic squeeze container.  Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days.

Notes: do not eat too much of the icing on its own; doing so will give you a thorough sugar hangover and you'll need to sit down for a while.  This has been the Voice of Experience.