A Winter Sorbet (Orange-Pomegranate)

It can be a rollercoaster ride around here this time of year. In the past week, we've had high winds, mud slide warnings and flood watches, with a rogue spot of sun blotted out by rain via what are known as atmospheric rivers.

And, it's not technically winter yet.

The winters of my childhood were nothing like the ones here in Western Washington. We had sunny and warm Southern California days with clear blue skies and cool nights. We could walk coatless, often even sweaterless, or if we were really daring, in shorts down to the park. 

We also had oranges. Piles of them, from the orange groves further inland. I can still see mounds of the thick-skinned navel type gathered on the kitchen table. They were an inextricable part of our Chinese immigrant household. Oranges, always oranges, after dinner.

Our uncles would tote them into our house in large, white cartons that only they could lift. The adults were crazy for them, polishing off case after case. Each time we walked into one of our many aunts or uncles' homes, we'd be greeted with the offer of tea and oranges. As a child, I wondered what magical sway the citrus orbs held over them. To me, the grown ups seemed bewitched.

Each of us kids would try to peel the fruit in one ragged spiral. I, being the youngest, was the most inexperienced, the slowest, the least competititve. With my small fingers, my orange finally clean of pith and peel, I would pry open the ball of segments, the sweet juice running down my forearms.

Even as a tiny child, I was greedy for every last drop of goodness. I wanted to -- and did -- slurp all of the juices off my hands, my arms. 

I didn't wonder, until I got older, and found out about things like cheesecake and chocolate chip cookies (which didn't exist in our home) whether there was anything better than a sweet winter orange from San Bernadino.

Honestly, I don't think there is.

A Winter Sorbet
I was interested in trying out the technique that the River Cafe uses to make their Strawberry Lemon Sorbet. They puree an entire lemon along with the sugar to bypass the usual simple syrup and add a touch of pleasing bitterness. I think it adds some body and textural interest as well. I've used all sugar here, but if you want a smoother result, you can sub out part of the sugar with a non-high fructose corn syrup. You can also remove the orange pulp and zest before freezing by pressing your mixture through a fine-meshed sieve. But, I like the texture! 

Adapted from River Cafe via Food 52's Genius Recipes (a terrific book!).

Makes about 1 1/2 quarts.

Ingredients
2 1/2 cups cold orange juice, freshly squeezed
1 1/4 cups cold pomegranate juice
1/2 an orange, preferably organic and cut into pieces
1 cup of granulated sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice

Instructions
Mix the orange and pomegranate juices together in a large, 4-cup measuring cup. In a food processor, blitz together the orange pieces and sugar. If it remains clumpy add a spoonful or two of the juice you've measured out. Add pureed mixture to orange and pomegranate juices. Add lemon juice. 

Freeze according to instructions on your ice cream maker. It will be soft, so if you'd like it firmer transfer it to an airtight container and freeze for four hours before serving. This is nice served in small portions after a rich meal. 

Variation: To make into a sherbet add one cup of whole milk, half and half, or heavy cream to the fruit and juice mixture and freeze according to your ice cream maker's instructions.

Today's Bonus, my favorite song mentioning tea and oranges, "Suzanne," by Leonard Cohen. Actually, one of my all-time favorite songs by one of my all-time favorite artists. Enjoy!

Johnny's Guyanese Beef Curry

When I recently asked my husband, Marc, about his first food memory, he thought for a second then said, "Eating off a banana leaf at a wedding in Guyana." 

Suddenly, I saw him as a boy with large, dark eyes, a mass of wild hair nearly overtaking his face, narrow hands holding an enormous green leaf. I imagined him wearing a look of concentration while his fingers gripped the edges of a vegetal plate weighed down by spoonfuls of curry, pieces of heat-freckled roti resting on top.

The ruckus of happiness, music, and laughter would have nearly swallowed him in this moment. Anyone who has spent any time at a party thrown by a bunch of West Indians knows that these affairs are loud and welcoming, full of joy.

These days, curry is still Marc’s favorite thing to eat, and I know he is happy that I'm sharing this dish. According to him, life is vastly improved when curry is part of it.

I don't disagree. I grew up with my Cantonese mother's curry, a whole chicken hacked to pieces and cooked with starchy potatoes, onions, madras powder and coconut cream, all of it swimming in sauce and drippings. It was rich and full of deep flavor. Even as a kid, I couldn't stop eating it.

While every West Indian cook probably has his or her own version of curry, each with its unique quirks, this is the one I learned to make from Marc’s younger brother, Johnny. I’ve made some minor adjustments, but this is essentially his, even though his one caveat the day he walked me through this was that he never makes it exactly the same way twice. 

For me, food is like invisible netting. It has the ability to keep me held together when all the loose parts and pieces that are memories and experiences, moments nearly forgotten, might otherwise go tumbling onto the ground.  

So each time I make this curry for Marc, I hope it takes him back to Guyana, to that time when he was a very small boy eating off a banana leaf, this dish holding him intact as the person he once was, now is and will one day become.

Johnny's Guyanese Beef Curry
A tip! Whenever we cook curry in our house, we make sure all the doors to the other rooms, especially the laundry room, are first shut tightly. The scent of curry can permeate everything! Though delicious, it's not always what you want to smell (or smell like), especially when you're putting on a just-laundered shirt.

With rice or roti, serves 6 hungry people

Ingredients
For the curry paste:
4 tablespoons madras curry powder
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon toasted ground cumin
1 teaspoon jerk seasoning paste, store bought or homemade

3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons coconut oil

2 pounds beef chuck cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
1 3/4 pounds waxy potatoes, peeled and cut into 1 1/4-inch chunks
3 onions, cut in half then thickly sliced
2-3 dried red peppers, such as chile de arboles
10 fresh thyme sprigs
2 1/2 cups beef broth or water, or a combination, plus more as needed
Salt and pepper

Instructions
Make the curry paste:
In a small bowl, combine curry powder, tumeric, cumin and jerk seasoning paste. Add enough water to form a thick paste. Set aside.

Make the stew:
Place a dutch oven or other large pan (with a lid) over medium-high heat. When pan is heated, add two tablespoons of coconut oil. Add curry paste and minced garlic. Stir quickly, allowing the paste to cook for a minute or two until highly fragrant. 

Add beef to pan. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Turn meat, allowing curry paste to sear onto all sides of the pieces and meat starts to brown. Some of the paste may start sticking to the bottom of the pot. Just scrape it up. Add dried chilis and onions, stirring. Some liquid should come out of mixture, but if it appears too dry, add a bit of water or broth to loosen the mixture. Cover and turn heat down. Cook on low for 25 minutes. 

Uncover pot and fish out the dried chilis and discard. Add thyme sprigs. Taste for salt, adding to your liking. Add the 2 1/2 cups of broth or water. Cover and simmer on low for an additional 35 to 45 minutes.

Add potatoes and adjust liquid as needed. If it seems too dry or you want more sauce/gravy, add more broth or water at this time. Cover and cook an additional 25 minutes, until potatoes are soft. 

Taste again for salt, adjusting as needed. Remove thyme sprigs and discard. Serve over rice, with roti on the side, or wrapped inside a roti.

Senegalese Peanut Soup and A Soup Swap!

Well, that was a busy weekend. On Friday, we attended our first Michaelmas celebration. Since Kingston just started preschool three weeks ago, it was our first school festival.

As the grade schoolers gathered in a large circle, we sat at the edge of the wooded playground with other parents, friends and acquaintances eating our picnic dinner while we watched a dragon get slayed.

Because that wasn't enough excitement, Kingston helped use a two-man saw to cut a log into chunks. He then promptly went over to the hammering table and began putting 1-inch nails into a piece of wood he'd just cut. 

We watched the fifth grade parents work the apple press to make cider using fruit collected from all the families. We shared an abundance of home baked bread slathered with butter.

Then all the way home, Kingston chanted, "Michaelmas, apple sauce!" Just because.

But Saturday was a new day as we put our Friday adventures behind us. It was our Fall Soup Swap and it was a good one. 

If you have never been to or hosted a soup swap, maybe it's time to join in and make one happen. It is the best reason to gather a bunch of friends and neighbors together and a chance to fortify everybody when the weather starts to take on a chill.

All of the soups we had were delicious. Butternut squash and curry, carrot yogurt, Tuscan white bean, pumpkin and Jerry Traunfeld's herbed black bean concoction. I made Senegalese peanut soup. Everyone brought containers and filled them up before they went home.

Lately, I've been on a soup kick and I can't help it. Soup in all its incarnations is one the greatest things a person can cook or eat. It's not usually complicated, it's nutritious and you can generally feed a lot of people with a single pot. 

Our soup swap underscored all this plus more. People love sharing. People love trying out new flavors. They love taking home quarts of soup that they didn't have to cook. They are happy to know there will be a meal or two they won't have to make, other than heating something up. There's also the bonus of getting to visit with one another. 

Senegalese peanut soup is one of my favorites. The best version I've had is the one that Jim makes at The Rhody Cafe and the Farm to Market Bakery (next door to the cafe) down in Bow-Edison. If you ever find yourself driving south from Bellingham down Chuckanut Drive, you will see it on the left side just before you get to Bow Hill Road.

Jim's version is full of shredded chicken and is warming and complex. It's offered every day both at the Cafe and the Bakery, served with pieces of the Breadfarm's most perfect baguette.

But circling back to Michaelmas, it is a festival that has been celebrated since at least Roman times, if not earlier. There are different stories related to it including that of St. George slaying a dragon to save an entire village. 

It's a reminder of the personal dragons we each have and the need to find the courage to tame them. Gathering together, finding strength through community by sharing something as simple as soup is one small way to shore ourselves (in these northerly parts especially) against the darker months ahead.

As our school newsletter states, "Let's use the energy and focus of the Michaelmas season to resolve to be courageous -- which means 'take heart,' subdue our inner dragons and serve the good. Celebrate our inner strength and courage and let Hope and Love prevail."

Or, as Kingston says, "Michaelmas, applesauce!"

And as I say, "Soup Swap!"

Senegalese Peanut Soup
This soup happens to be dairy and gluten free, vegan and vegetarian. It does, however (and unavoidably) contain plenty of peanuts, as the name suggests.

Slightly adapted from Soup Club, a book that celebrates friendship, food and sharing through a soup club in New York City.

Makes 4 quarts.

Ingredients
2 cups roasted, salted peanuts
2 tablespoons coconut oil
2 small red onions, cut in half and sliced thinly
5 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
4 oz. fresh ginger, peeled and finely minced
1 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons mild curry powder
pinch of red pepper flakes or cayenne
1 28-oz. can of diced tomatoes, with their juice
2 lbs. sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 13.5 oz. can of unsweetened coconut milk
1 bunch cilantro, divided
1 cup unsweetened natural peanut butter, well-stirred
8 ounces swiss chard leaves, sliced into wide ribbons

To finish the soup
additional salt
black pepper, freshly ground
chopped cilantro
crushed or whole roasted, salted peanuts

Instructions
Use the side of a large knife to crush the peanuts.

In a large pot, heat the coconut oil. Add the onions, ginger and garlic. Saute until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the salt, curry and red pepper flakes. Cook for 2-3 minutes longer until the spices are fragrant.

Stir in the tomatoes then the sweet potatoes. Cook for another 2-3 minutes, stirring. Roughly chop half of the cilantro and add to the pot. Add 4 1/4 cups water and the coconut milk then give the soup a good stir. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for about 20 minutes, until the sweet potatoes are tender.

Remove from heat. Into another container ladle out 5 cups of the soup, including chunks of sweet potato and pieces of tomato and onion. Set aside.

Stir peanut butter into the remaining soup in pot. Use an immersion blender to puree until peanut butter is incorporated and soup is fairly smooth. Return the unblended portion to the pot. Add the chard and stir. Allow chard to wilt. Adjust soup for salt and add pepper as desired.

Serve in bowls garnished with cilantro and peanuts.

Teff and Coconut Waffles

Since I got my hands on Kim Boyce's Good to the Grain a few years back, I've been interested in using wheat-alternative grains and flours. But it wasn't until last year that I really started playing around with a wider variety of them.

See, a good friend of mine was coming up to visit us from California. Briana is the world's best pediatric occupational therapist (OT), a person who is always smiling and shining her light out onto the world. I had the opportunity to work with her and learn so much about helping traumatized children with sensory issues.  

She was also diagnosed with MS several years ago. When Bri told me she and her family were coming to visit, we talked about her health. She told me that cutting gluten out of her diet was helping her to feel significantly better on a day-to-day basis.

They were going to be with us for a few days and I wanted Bri to feel good while she was with us. So, I started to do some deeper exploring.

With further guidance mostly from Alice Medrich, I baked enough to feed the neighborhood using alternatives such as rice and oat flour, teff, buckwheat and sorghum. I handed out "extra" scones, cookies, cakes and biscuits to those willing to take them. 

One grain I came across during my exploring and experimenting seemed especially interesting: teff. I recalled that it was used to make the spongy, fermented Ethiopian bread, injera. 

The grains are tiny, about the size of poppy seeds. Because they are so small, they are ground whole to make flour, keeping all the nutrition from the bran and germ intact. They are loaded with high amounts of calcium, vitamin C and amino acids, as described here. 

The teff flour I found locally was a light brownish-slate color and slightly gritty to the touch. But I soon found that when cooked whole, it could be made into a porridge resembling polenta. It could also be added to soups and stews as a thickener. 

While Bri was here with her husband and kids, we enjoyed lazy days at the lake, dangling our feet from the dock and into the cool water, chatting and catching up with one another.

We cooked and ate plenty too, including Pacific Northwest salmon and blackberries picked from around the neighborhood. I even made her a birthday cake (coconut flour) filled with plum jam. But I forgot about using the teff I had!

They're planning to come back next year, at which point I will pull the flour jar out of the freezer to make these waffles just for them. 

Teff and Coconut Waffles

This recipe, adapted from Alice Medrich, is free of both dairy and gluten. You might feel that it's a bit of work to separate the eggs and beat the whites separately. However, the fluffed up whites do give the waffles lightness that I find worth the effort. The shredded coconut adds texture, and the coconut oil provides crispness. If you prefer to use butter instead, go for it! I am a staunch member of the I Love Butter Club. Just make sure you eat these waffles while they are warm and crisp. That is when they are at their very best.

Makes 5 large waffles or 8 smaller ones.

Ingredients
1 cup teff flour
1/4 cup dried, shredded coconut (unsweetened)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 large eggs, separated and at room temperature
1 cup warm coconut milk (or, substitute whole milk or other milk of your choice)
1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar
2 tablespoons coconut sugar (or, substitute brown sugar)

Instructions
Preheat oven to 200°. Prepare a baking sheet and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together teff flour, coconut, baking powder and salt. Add the two egg yolks and milk, stirring together until combined and no flour lumps remain.

In a clean, dry mixing bowl place egg whites and cream of tartar. Beat until egg whites start to form soft peaks. Sprinkle in the sugar and continue beating until the sugar is incorporated and the whites just start to form stiff peaks but are not dry.

Fold egg whites into flour mixture, using a light touch, until just combined.

Pour batter into waffle iron and cook according to the manufacturer's instructions. Place waffles on baking sheet and keep warm in the oven as you cook the remaining batter. 

Serve warm with the topping of your choice. We're plain sorts around here when it comes to waffles. Or, call us purists, as our household preference is for a generous pour of maple syrup. 

Heirloom Tomato and Charred Red Pepper Soup

It came upon us as quick as a blink, didn't it? I can't say I was completely ready. Of course I'm talking about our old friend, Fall.  

What a summer we had here! Glorious it was and longer than our typical (and measly) eight weeks. This year the sun and warmth stretched impossibly across late spring well into the third week of September. The long days of light! We were living the dream.

I do love the Fall, though. Cool mornings with spider webs damp and glistening in the light, fog hanging low across tree tops. Sitting by the fire at night.

Then, of course there's soup. 

Late last summer, I became obsessed with April Bloomfield's Summer Tomato Soup. I couldn't stop making or eating it. The minute I stopped eating it, I would start thinking about it again, the memory of its umami flavors causing the most primitive parts of my brain to clang, "Make soup. Again! Must eat!"

I'm not exaggerating. 

Some of you might think it's a bit late to be talking about tomatoes, but I know that a good tomato or two can still be found (I've seen them with my own eyes at the Ballard Farmer's Market most recently). Stragglers though they may be, they must be used, so this is what you should do with them without question: Make soup.

This soup takes those end-of-summer tomatoes sitting on your counter and combines them with the straggler red bell peppers that you also still have on hand.

Roast the peppers to the point of blackened char. Skin them. Add them to the tomatoes with salt, olive oil, a smidge of water. Toss in a few basil leaves and you're done. So easy. Low effort for a spoonful of glory.

Fall and winter can be hard on those of us who live around here. It gets so dark and stays damp for such a long time that light and warmth can become an abstract idea, a mere daydream. To gird against such occasions, it's best to make some extra of this soup and freeze it. Now.

When darkness and rain envelopes us soon enough, late summer will live on, if only in a bowl.

Heirloom Tomato and Charred Red Pepper Soup

Adapted from April Bloomfield.

Makes 4 servings.

Ingredients
2 lbs. heirloom tomatoes
1 lb. red peppers (or a mix of red and orange)
5 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons plus 1/4 cup olive oil
3 teaspoons flaky sea salt such as Maldon
1/4 cup water
One handful of fresh basil leaves
1 scant teaspoon of basil pesto (optional)

Instructions
Preheat oven to 475°. Place peppers on side on baking sheet. Once the oven reaches temperature, place sheet in oven. Roast peppers for 20-25 minutes, until blackened and blistered. Immediately place peppers in a large bowl and cover with plastic to allow peppers to steam. Once they have cooled, peel skin and remove stems and seeds. Set aside. 

Place a fine-meshed sieve over a large bowl. Cut tomatoes in half, removing stems and any hard parts. Gently squeeze tomatoes over strainer, allowing juices to run through. Using fingertips, push any remaining seeds out of the tomato flesh. Place pieces of tomato flesh in bowl with juice.

Place 3 tablespoons olive oil with garlic in a medium pot. Cook over medium-high heat for a minute or two until garlic is just becoming golden. Add tomatoes and their juices and peppers. Add 1 teaspoon of salt and a few of the basil leaves. Give everything a stir and cover. 

After about 5 minutes, when tomatoes and peppers are swimming in juices, uncover and add the water. Stir. Adjust heat so that the mixture simmers gently. Allow to cook for 20 minutes. 

Once the mixture has cooked, turn off heat, add the other 2 teaspoons of salt. Add remaining basil leaves. Add pesto if using. Add the 1/4 cup of olive oil. Using an immersion blender, blend soup until it has emulsified and become smooth and creamy. Adjust salt if you like. Serve warm in bowls.