Category Archives: Recipes

Recipes from The Sheep Are Out…

It is my pleasure to announce that The Sheep Are Out… now has a working Recipe Index.

If you are interested in any of the recipes posted on this blog there are a couple of ways that you can access them. You can click at the recipe link at the bottom of an individual post, or you can use the Recipes menu at the top of the blog. If you click on the Recipes menu it will open up the Recipes page, or you can select one of the recipe categories (such as Main Dishes, Vegetarian or Desserts) from the drop down list. Once you have accessed the page for the recipe category you are interested in you will find an alphabetical list of all posted recipes and their associated blog posts.

Since this is a relatively new blog I have not yet had the chance to post many recipes, so some of these categories are currently (and regrettably) empty. I am working on this and will be adding more recipes with new posts.

The Recipe Index is a new feature for this blog, so it is possible there are some bugs that I have not worked out yet. If you have any troubles, please let me know.

Bon Appetite!

Marie

When in Rome… Or Nanaimo…

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One of the fun things about moving around a lot (three states and two countries in the last six years) has been discovering local food favorites. For those that know me this should not be much of a surprise. Food places make up most of my landmark references and anyone asking me how to get anywhere will likely be led by directions to make turns just past certain restaurants or food markets. In fact, when travelling (abroad or domestically) I often try to find time to go to one of the local grocery stores. I love to see what foods are unique to a place, and I can often find gifts for friends and family that travel well and are light weight.

I have also found that when attempting to become a part of a community, one of the best ways of winning over the locals is to try (and try to recreate) one of the foods that is special or unique to that place. When one of our best friends was doing fieldwork research in Illinois she stumbled upon the Horseshoe Sandwich. The Horseshoe seems to be any sort of meat protein (ranging from shrimp to ground beef and anything in between) served open-faced on Texas toast (why this was in Illinois I have no idea), covered with a liberal coating of French Fries and a cheese sauce.

When living in Indiana, the closest thing to a local dish we could find was the Tenderloin Sandwich. This was sadly not as unique as the Horseshoe. The Tenderloin consists of a thin slice of pork tenderloin that has been pounded, breaded and fried to within an inch of its life. The finished product is more like cardboard than food. The tenderloin is then served with a little mayonnaise on indifferent bread. If you want iceberg lettuce and out-of-season tomato on your sandwich then you order the “works.”

Unfortunately I did not fare much better in Iowa. I had some amazing food at the homes of friends and in some great restaurants, but what Iowans seem to be most proud of is “food” that can be fried on a stick. This is found at just about any local community fair, but is produced in spades at the Iowa State Fair. Famous for its mammoth butter sculpture of a cow, this year the fair’s website boasted 60 stick-bound food-ish items with new options appearing each year. While living in Iowa they were proud to introduce fried butter on a stick, deep fried bacon, as well as fried pink lemonade. Don’t ask.

With the move to Vancouver Island I was initially focused on eating anything that swam in the ocean. After five years of living in land-locked Midwestern states, I was all about celebrating fish especially salmon. However, great salmon and seafood are not unique to Vancouver Island, but are hallmarks of the entire Northwest Coast of both Canada and the States (Please don’t call that nation “America” as that tends to get me in big trouble with my Canadian neighbors. We do all live on the North American continent after all…). My quest to find a special food that is unique to our new city led me to the Nanaimo Bar.

Little Man trying to score a nanaimo Bar

Little Man hoping to score a nanaimo Bar.

For my State-side readers, “Nanaimo Bar” refers to a wonderfully rich dessert, not to the “bars in Nanaimo.” While there is some debate about where the Nanaimo Bar originated (some try to claim them for the States. Check out wikipedia for more details.), the bars are largely considered to be a local delicacy and are jealously celebrated as a part of local culture. At its most basic rendition a Nanaimo Bar is a layered cookie with a chocolate and coconut graham cracker crust, a vanilla cream middle, and a top layer of chocolate. There are numerous variations on this theme with people attempting to put their own spin on the bars with flavors that pair well with chocolate, like peanut butter, raspberry jam or espresso. Nanaimo Bars have become so tied to local culture that there is a permanent exhibit in the Nanaimo Museum dedicated to this dessert. The exhibit is flanked by two Nanaimo Bar-shaped stools for people to sit on and contemplate the displayed recipe and local lore. Stools and recipe tea towels are available in the museum gift store. The Nanaimo Tourism Council has even published a Nanaimo Bar Trail Guide that includes all things Nanaimo Bar, marking not only the best places in town to try one of the bars, but also themed pedicures, soaps, cupcakes, cocktails and the list goes on.

Pooh Bear enjoying the Nanaimo Bar exhibit at the Nanaimo Museum.

I had heard of these bars before moving to Nanaimo, since Dave had tried a couple on the mainland (aka Vancouver). They were almost always a disappointment, tasting only of intense sweetness. Then when we first moved to Iowa we had a little party at our place where we served a number of dishes that were regional specialties from the different places that we had lived (Yes, Utica Tomato Pie was there as well, but that is fodder for a different post). Dave prepared Nanaimo Bars as the party dessert, but these were different from those that I had sampled before. While still rich and sweet, you could also taste the vanilla, almonds, chocolate and coconut in Dave’s version. I was hooked. He has since made them a couple of times, including most recently at this summer’s Hopwood Family Reunion. The pictures of Dave making the bars (and Little Man trying to score one) come from that event.

When Dave made the first batch in Iowa, he had done some internet research and combined multiple recipes to create his perfect Nanaimo Bar. Then as I was doing a bit of internet research for this post I discovered that what he had created was incredibly similar to what is largely thought to be the most authentic Nanaimo Bar recipe. In 1986 the city of Nanaimo hosted a contest for the Ultimate Nanaimo Bar and the winner was Joyce Hardcastle. It is her version of the Nanaimo Bar that is the closest to what Dave put together as well. Unknowingly Dave had stripped out away of the “unique” add-ins and found his way back to the classic version.

As I mentioned above, Dave’s most recent reason for making Nanaimo Bars was as a special dessert for the recent Hopwood Family Reunion. These are worlds away from the first bite of a Vancouver bakery’s Nanaimo Bar that I had on the mainland, and they will continue to be a part of special celebrations with our family. Just remember that a little goes a long way. A small square with good coffee or tea is a great dessert. However, since we just had them this summer it is going to be a good couple of months before I want to have one anywhere near my vicinity. One of Dave’s young cousins found out the dangers of Nanaimo Bar proximity at the reunion. One night we were all up late playing a get-to-know-you-better game on the deck of the cabin. A number of desserts had been brought out to munch on while we played. One of the teenage cousins had the luck (good or bad) of having the plate of Nanaimo Bars sitting directly in front of him the entire night. We lost count of how many bars he ate, but it was a substantial number. So be warned, these things are good.

Chef Dave getting his ingredients for Nanaimo Bars.

Dave’s Nanaimo Bars

Nanaimo Bars are famously three-layered cookies, with a graham cracker base, a custardy center and a chocolate top. Dave’s version is intensely chocolaty with the added richness of coconut and almonds. For the reunion Dave doubled the batch and therefore used a larger baking dish as is seen in the accompanying pictures. A small square with a cup of black tea or coffee is divine.

Ingredients

Cookie Base:

1 ¼ c. graham cracker crumbs

1 c. unsweetened flaked coconut

½ c. almonds, toasted and finely chopped

2/3 c. unsalted butter

1/3 c. unsweetened cocoa powder

¼ c. sugar

1 egg, lightly beaten

Custard Filling:

2 c. powdered sugar

2 tbsp. vanilla pudding mix

3 scant tbsp. cream

½ c. unsalted butter, softened

Chocolate Topping:

8 oz. semi-sweet chocolate (not chips)

4 tbsp. butter

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350º.

Prepare an 8-inch square baking dish by buttering it and then lining it with parchment paper or aluminum foil. Be sure to leave an inch or so of overlap on two sides to serve as a handle to help remove the bars once they are firm.

Make the base:

In a large bowl stir together the graham cracker crumbs, coconut and almonds. Set this aside.

No rolling pin at hand, so Dave used the next best thing to crush the graham crackers.

The combined graham cracker crumbs, coconut and finely chopped almonds.

In a saucepan melt the butter with the cocoa powder and sugar. Remove the pan from the heat and temper the beaten egg by adding a few spoonfuls of the hot chocolate mixture to the beaten egg and whisk like mad. Tempering heats the egg gently so that it hopefully will not scramble when you add it to the mix. Once you have beaten in the few spoonfuls of chocolate mixture to the egg, then pour the egg mixture back into the pan with the chocolate and again whisk like mad. Pour the chocolate and egg mixture into the crumbs and stir until combined.

The sweetened cocoa and butter mixture for the cookie base.

Tempering the eggs so that they do not scramble in the cookie base.

Dave showing off his smoothly tempered cocoa and egg mixture pouring into the graham cracker crumbs below.

The combined cookie base mixture.

Pour the crumb mixture into the prepared baking dish and press it down evenly in the pan. Bake the base in the 350º oven for 10 minutes and then cool it on a rack.

The baked cookie base is cooled here on an impromptu cooling rack of an upside down muffin tin.

Make the filling:

In a medium bowl add the powdered sugar and pudding mix. Then stir in the cream and softened butter. Beat until smooth. Spread this over the cooled cookie base.

Make the topping:

Using a double-boiler, or a heat-proof bowl over a pot of simmering water, place the chocolate and butter over low heat and stir until both are melted and smooth. Spread this evenly over the custard filling and refrigerate the baking dish until the chocolate topping is firm.

The completed but uncooled Nanaimo Bar pan.

Just before serving, take the dish out of the refrigerator and let it stand on the counter for 5-7 minutes so that the bars can be cut without shattering the chocolate. Lift the bars from the baking dish by pulling up on the parchment or aluminum foil “handles.” Peel the paper or foil from the bars and place them on a clean cutting board. Cut the bars into 16 squares (4 cuts horizontally and 4 vertically) and place them on a serving plate.

For the reunion Dave made a double batch of the bars so the pan is larger than the one described in the recipe.

Dave’s Famous Nanaimo Bars… be careful if you sit too close to the serving plate.

The bars can be stored in an air tight (and cousin-tight) container in the refrigerator for 2-3 days or frozen for up to 2 weeks.

Click on the following link to open a separate page with the recipe for easier printing.

Nanaimo Bars

Ladies and Gentle-Chickens!

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OK, I’ll admit it… I’m totally turning into a farm-geek. Harvesting and gathering your own food is just plain fun (particularly since we were not involved in the hard work of prepping the garden or planting anything… just reaping the benefits). It’s like Easter egg hunting. Digging through the potato hill, not sure if there is anything left until your hands start raking in the ruby red tubers. Little Man loves pulling up root vegetables, especially beets. He grabs the leafy greens and then leans back with all of his might until either the root gives way or the greens do. I have had to start restraining myself at the farm garden, always reason to come back tomorrow. We have free reign in the garden, but it is not our’s and I don’t want to abuse our privileges there. Even so I often find myself making excuses to go back to the garden or asking Little Man if he wants to go say “hi” to the chickens just so that I can say “hi” too.

After “shopping” in the garden

My favorite thing to do is gather eggs. There is something about walking into the chicken coup, the scent of sweet hay and a little bit of chicken funk, but it just makes me smile. Novella Carpenter in her hilarious discussion of urban farming in an Oakland ghetto (Farm City: The Education of an Urban Farmer) describes chickens as the gateway animal to urban farming. After a couple of weeks living on the farm I can totally see her point. We plan on staying here for quite some time, but when we do eventually leave… don’t tell Dave, but I would really like to be somewhere that we could have chickens.

Speaking of Dave, a couple of days ago he came home from working at the university to be greeted by a happy toddler who invited him to go say “hi” to the chickens. We went to take the short cut to the chicken coup through the back yard, which Little Man calls the “hair cut.” He heard us call the short path to the garden behind our house as the “short cut,” but didn’t know the word so now it is “hair cut.” Usually when Little Man greets the chickens he says “Helloooo Laadiessss.” Today was different. He walked up to the coup, threw his arms wide and yelled “hello ladies and gentle-gnomes!” Dave and I smiled at each other and in unison said “good evening ladies and gentle-chickens!”

We went into the coup and were greeted by Little Man’s “ladies.” Our plan for the eggs was built on yesterday’s botched brunch. Little Man, while trying to hold it together in a marathon grocery shopping expedition said that he would like pancakes for brunch. I made a rookie mistake and promised my beautiful, curly-haired boy that he would have pancakes… and then we got to the restaurant 30 minutes after they stopped doing breakfast. Oh bother! So to atone for my error, dinner that night was a pancake breakfast. Specifically we had pancakes made from a Bauder Camp recipe (I miss those cocktail cruises!), homemade turkey sausage patties and oven-roasted home potatoes. I’ll share those recipes at another time. For our purposes in this post I am going to share the recipe that came the day after our pancake breakfast for dinner. We ended up having a good amount of sausage and potatoes left over, and in our house that can only mean one thing… frittata.

A frittata is like a large omelet, but it’s even better since you don’t have to flip or fold it. That means it can be easily turned into a fast, delicious dinner. I have included a link to the frittata recipe below, and it is based off of the left overs that we had in our house that evening. You don’t have to make a pancake breakfast for dinner in order to prep for this meal the next night… but it’s a great excuse to do so.

One “trick” I use for frittatas is something that I learned from the Moosewood Restaurant Low-Fat Favorites: Flavorful Recipes for Healthful Meals cookbook. To make a frittata that provides four servings (the leftovers are great the next day!), I start with eight eggs. If the eggs are small I might add another to round it out. The trick is to only use four whole eggs and four egg whites, ditching four of the yolks. My brother is moaning right now, but by getting rid of those yolks I can decrease the amount of fat and bad cholesterol in the dish. Dave and I are both a bit rounder than we would like, and lowering overall bad cholesterol in our diets is another goal. So there you go. You can keep or ditch those four yolks as you see fit. I haven’t found any loss of flavor, richness or overall awesomeness in my frittatas since I started doing this.

One last frittata trick… Many of the recipes that I’ve read and seen demonstrated on TV require that you get out an extra plate, flip the darn thing when it’s mostly cooked onto the plate, and then invert it again into the skillet to finish cooking. It looks simple on TV. I’m sure my issues with this have been a result of a lack of patience or my overall clumsiness, but I have burned my hands and splattered my stove (and countertops… and cupboards…) enough that I gave that technique up. Instead, I cover the frittata pan with a lid immediately after I add the eggs. This lets the top set up through the steam released from its cooking. Once the eggs are set up nicely I remove the lid, sprinkle on a bit of grated cheese and pop the thing under the broiler for a minute or too to brown it up. That way you get the crispy browning of the top that you would otherwise miss from not flipping it. No more burned fingers (or at least less), no more messy stove and surrounding area (or at least less), and the resulting frittata is stunning in its caramelized cheesy glory.

Sausage and Potato Frittata

Left over roasted potatoes and sausage patties for the frittata

The frittata flavor base of onions, roasted potatoes and sausage

The flavor base after adding the smoked paprika, my favorite spice

After adding the egg mixture put a lid on the pan to help cook the top

Once the top is almost set, you can add the cheese

The top is almost set and I had run out of cheese to grate. Luckily I did have slices of Colby.

The finished product. Be careful with broiling your frittata. I have been known to walk away from the oven and “caramelize” my frittatas more than intended.

Best kitchen helper ever!

Are These Even Edible?

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Sorry for the delay in posts. We just got back from a week’s vacation/family reunion with Dave’s family. I’ll write more about that later. For now, let’s get caught back up…

View of the pasture and surrounding forest

So not only are we living on a farm, but all of Vancouver Island is a massive gorgeous forest. We have seen a number of eagles, an otter crossing the street, and a seal hanging out at the crabbing dock looking for a handout. But mostly there are plants, plants, plants everywhere. And my son is afraid of every single one. He throws his bouncy ball into the grass that has tall dandelions, and he squeals if his hand has to get too close to one. We were on Vancouver Island University campus today, walking on some of the trails through the trees while Dave unloaded boxes into his new office. As Little Man and I were “trail blazing” he would squeal if a branch had the audacity to cross the trail. If he had to maneuver too close to a dangling flower, he squealed. If his mommy took a leaf and tickled him behind the ear while he walked, he squealed. Hence the rub, by being so cute when he squeals at the greenery I’m inspired to cause more squeals.

Little Man surrounded by plants. The background is part of a neighbor’s garden.

Little Man also must contend with various gardens up and down our street. At the end of the street live two dogs that he loves to visit, and they have a lovely garden that I like to visit. The next house over has a prolific garden whose owner consistently presses bulging shopping bags full of English cucumbers and zucchini at us. Needless to say I walk past that house as often as possible. There is also our house, which does not have its own garden yet, but we do have the farm garden more or less in our backyard and we have been granted free access for whenever we want. All of these visits cause more squealing from the short member of our family, and chuckles from us. Poor boy…

Little Man and myself walking to the “store” aka farm garden.

One of the first times we went “shopping” in the farm garden behind our house also happened to be a weekend when Dave’s parents were visiting. On this particular occasion, Dave, his mom, Little Man and I were in the garden, harvesting a head of cauliflower that was almost overblown. While we were out there and Little Man was squealing at the pepper plants, Dave’s mom commented that the cauliflower leaves looked incredibly similar, almost identical in fact, to collards. I took a second look as well, and the huge leaves fanning out from around the cauliflower stalk do look just like collards. Now mind you I have no experience with collards “in the wild,” but if these cauliflower leaves were off the plant, tied together with a rubber band and put in a bin at the grocery store, they would look just like collard greens. This led to her next question; are cauliflower leaves edible?

Cauliflower is in the foreground with brocolli just behind.

A little internet research later, and yes, cauliflower leaves are in fact edible. Even more impressive than the fact that they are edible is that they are delicious. I have found that cauliflower leaves are more bitter than collards, which I don’t mind, but if you are not fond of that particular flavor you can just cook the leaves for a longer period of time like in traditional southern recipes for collards.

Brocolli from the garden. The leaves are just as delicious as the head itself.

The overall internet opinion about harvesting cauliflower leaves is that you likely want to wait on harvesting the leaves until the cauliflower head itself is harvested, or at least leave some leaves on the plant that can protect the head. Before the cauliflower head is harvested the leaves can be tied up around it for protection from the sun and insects. Once the head is harvested, the leaves are fair game. This also allows you to eat more from the entire cauliflower plant, rather than simply harvesting the head and then composting everything else.

Another little beauty whose leaves you can eat is broccoli. This should not have been too surprising to me, but I am still learning my way around the relationships of the plant world. Apparently collards, cauliflower, broccoli and kale are all related. Who knew?

The one bummer side to this information is that if you do not grow these plants in your own garden or do not have access to them through a farmers market, you will likely have a hard time finding access to the leaves. While I have not yet grown them myself, it sounds like cauliflower and broccoli are relatively easy plants to grow. Or at least so say my gardener friends on the street. If you have space for a planter on your deck or front step, you likely have enough space to grow a couple of these for yourself. We got to the island a bit late in the planting season for me to have started some of my own cauliflower this year, but I am going to get some lettuces and kale going in containers later this week.

Harvesting potatoes… Little Man’s favorite vegetable to pick.

But first, back to the cauliflower leaves. Once we learned that they were edible, I started plotting ways that they could be used. Our cauliflower leaf harvest coincided with the gathering of a batch of potatoes and peas from the garden as well. Then I came across a Pintrest picture of a gorgeous potato and pea curry. I thought that the julienned cauliflower leaves would be an amazing addition to this curry, so I tried the link… and I’m still not sure what language that is. Perhaps something Eastern European? I have a little bit of experience with a number of languages (not enough to be fluent in anything but English), but for this recipe I could not even recognize the word for onion. So I gave that recipe up for lost and instead used the picture itself as inspiration. After combing through a number of different recipes on the internet and my own cookbook collection I came up with this Curried Potatoes and Peas with Cauliflower Leaves recipe. When I came up with and tested this recipe I was not yet blogging so I don’t have lovely pictures of the process yet. I promise to get back to that and will load those once I have them.

Picture of the curry that inspired my Curried Potatoes with Peas and Cauliflower Greens recipe

Curried Potato, Peas and Cauliflower Leaves

This recipe was inspired by the gorgeous produce I found in the farm garden, and given shape by an online picture of a gorgeous curry. This has some hints of Indian influences through the spices, but is more reliant on preblended curry powders that you would not find in “authentic” Indian food. If you cannot find cauliflower leaves, please feel free to substitute them with collard greens or another sturdy green of your preference. The recipe also calls for peas. When I first made this I used fresh peas from the garden. Frozen peas work well too, but you do lose some of the sweetness and texture of the fresh produce. Lastly, a delicious way to boost the protein in this vegetarian dish is to add quartered boiled eggs at the end with the peas. This is done in some traditional Indian curries, and works wonderfully with this recipe. In fact, that is exactly what I did the first time I made this dish and Little Man gobbled them up. Serve this over basmati rice or with flat bread to soak up all the rich, spicy broth.

Curried Potatoes with Peas and Cauliflower Leaves Recipe

Mommy, Where Are We?

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Little Man and our “big, big, big, big” tree

“Mommy, where are we?”

Ever since the move, our son asks us this a couple of times a day. When we ask the question back to him, he answers that “we’re home.” Not having had anything in his experience to prepare for (or to understand) our cross-continental and over-the-border move, he’s still working out what “home” is. And frankly, so am I.

So where in the world are we?

Country: Canada

Province: British Columbia

Island: Island!?!

OK, one more time… Island: Vancouver Island

As the second house on the farm property we are surrounded by trees and pasture and wilderness, but in less than 10 minutes we’re back down in town close to dozens of little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, or the sea wall, or the library, or within 15 minutes to the university where Dave teaches. We seem far from everything, but can get anywhere in a matter of minutes.

When Dave’s mom, sister and I were first driving out here to view the property this “closeness” was not apparent. Having lived in the American Midwest for a number of years I was not as immediately worried about the wilderness as my lovely, city-raised travel partners. The minute we passed by the last subdivision and there were more trees than telephone poles my in-laws got fidgety. There was quite a lot of nervous giggling, and “where ARE we?” questions. Our odd mumbling GPS didn’t help matters, nor did my cryptically written directions. Was I even awake when I wrote them down? Then finally we passed two mammoth Easter Island heads (moai) in the middle of the forest, and turned right onto our road. I know this may sound odd, but all of you archaeologists out there (in career or in heart) will understand when I say that those heads seemed like a good omen to me. They are incongruously perched amid the cedars that run alongside the road, and the first time you catch sight of them they can be startling. I still have no idea why they are there, but I’m glad that they are.

Our neighborhood seems like two sides of a fairytale. A few homes, all with incredible gardens and most with chickens, wrap around a short lane. This is bordered on one side by grassy fields and restful horses, and on the other side by a gentle downward slope leading to a low, damp pasture ringed with trees and a small pond. When I first saw this view on that cool Spring evening, the edges of the bottoms were fringed with a silver mist, and I imagined all sorts of magical creatures emerging from the forest darkness. Or then again, maybe a slip back in time, before the Hudson Bay Company and the miners and the loggers, when this land was filled with a very different type of civilization. The darker side of the fairy tale I learned later that evening. This land used to belong to a British aristocrat, tales of the native peoples who might have called this place home long buried. The aristocrat wanted to create a home more suited to his fancy, and drained a lake that once filled the pasturage below that I had been admiring. That story still makes me think about a novel I’ve read, the Green Rider series by Kristen Britain, where the evil sorcerer-lord drains a magical elven lake. The drained pasturage today is beautiful, particularly when the sheep are slowly munching their way through the cedars. I do wonder, though, what it was like before; and what older beauty was destroyed to make this current beauty possible.

Now our “home” borders this beautiful expanse. When Dave came home from his first soccer practice, we sat outside under the little arbor on a bench. Sipping beer we sat and ogled the view, laughing at what had brought us here and not quite believing that we’d landed in such a beautiful place. This is where Little Man’s first memories will be formed. Amazing…

As I try to create my own sense of “home” in my wilderness, I’d like to share the latka recipe that I mentioned in an earlier post. Mom made these latkas for me and my brother every Saturday morning throughout my entire childhood. They are one of my earliest food memories. I also remember spending the night at my Grammie’s house as a young girl and asking her to make these latkas in the morning. She didn’t know how to make them, and I was young enough that even though I had helped my mom make them countless times I did not know how to explain the process or the ingredients. Later I would pay much closer attention to what Mom was doing so I could also recreate that taste, and now they are probably my most powerful comfort food. These latkas were a part of our Independence Day(s) dinner, and are still my go-to comfort Saturday morning breakfast. Little Man is going to love them!

Mom’s Latkas

Latkas are traditionally Jewish, specially served at Hanukah, but I have also had them at diners in different parts of the States. I have never had the opportunity to eat them homemade anywhere else than my own home. They’ve become the kind of dish that is so closely embedded in my own culinary identity that even though I am not Jewish, I don’t think that I could try any one else’s latkas (except for my Mom’s) with an open mind. When Dave and I were dating, in fact, he asked me to send him the recipe (more of a method at that point) so he could make them for his family when he went home one Christmas. I was later horrified to hear that he’d had the audacity to grate cheese into my latka mix. While that could be a lovely oozy hash brown recipe, I was not amused that it had ended up in MY latkas. I haven’t shared the recipe with anyone since, but now in my quest for home I’m sharing the recipe again hoping in the sharing some sense of “home” can be created here as well. So traditionalist (with a side of apple sauce and sour cream), anarchist (grated cheese in the batter…) or just plain wonderful on their own, I hope you love these as much as I do.

Makes about 12 medium-sized latkas.

3 medium (2.5 lbs) Russet Potatoes

4-5 eggs

¼ cup garlic powder

Salt and pepper to taste

Canola oil for the pan

Preheat your oven to its lowest setting. You will keep the cooked latkas warm in the oven while you finish cooking the rest. I am not a mom who stands at the stove cooking while everyone else gets to sit down and eat the delicious food. I like to cook them all, keeping the done ones warm in the oven, and only when the last latka (or pancake, piece of french toast, etc.) comes out of the pan do we all sit down to eat together.

Line a large nonreactive bowl with a clean kitchen towel (not a fuzzy one) and grate the potatoes into the towel-lined bowl. Collect the four corners of the towel together and squeeze the potatoes firmly over the sink to drain out the extra liquid. Put the potatoes into the bowl and set aside. Some people like to drain the potatoes in a colander for 30 minutes or so, but I am not that patient.

Potatoes grated into a towel-lined bowl

Grated potatoes after being squeezed

Pour enough oil in the bottom of a large skillet to coat the pan well. Don’t skimp here. By having a good amount of hot oil in the pan you can get a good golden crust on the latkas. Too little oil and the latkas stick to the skillet, and oil that isn’t hot enough lets the potatoes soak up too much oil creating greasy latkas. Heat the skillet over medium-high heat until the oil is hot. Do not try to use olive oil here, as it will burn.

Now back to the drained potatoes. Break the eggs into the grated potatoes and add the garlic powder, as well as a good amount of salt and pepper. It will seem like you are adding an excessive amount of dried spice, but you’ll be surprised by how much it takes to season the latkas. I often start with about a tablespoon of salt and pepper depending on how much potato I have to start with. Stir the mixture together until well blended.

It is always a good idea to break eggs one at a time into a small bowl and then add them to the main mix. That way if you get a bad egg you have not ruined your entire batter.

Lovely latka mixture. You will not know if you have the seasoning right until after you taste the “tester.”

When the oil is hot take about a tablespoon of the mixture in a slotted spoon and put it into the hot pan, pressing down lightly to form a rough pancake shape. Cook this “tester” latka until golden on one side and then flip it. This should only take a minute or two if the oil is heated well. Once the latka is crispy on both sides remove it to a towel lined plate and taste. The “tester” lets you gauge if you need to add any more garlic powder, salt or pepper.

Latkas frying on their first side

Latkas on the flip side

Once you have the mixture seasoned properly, drop more latka mixture into the skillet. I use about 1/3 of a cup of mixture each for four good-sized latkas cooking in the pan at any given time. It is important to use the slotted spoon for the latka mixture, as the potatoes will give off liquid as they sit. You don’t want soggy latkas, so let the excess liquid drain out of the spoon before you drop the mixture into the pan. Cook until the latkas are golden on one side, flip them and crisp the second side. Between batches you can add more oil as needed, heat the oil again, and then add another batch to the pan. As one batch of latkas is done, remove it to a paper towel-lined baking sheet and keep them in the warm oven until ready to serve.

Finished latkas being kept warm in the oven until we can all sit down and eat together.

Latkas

Print on the link above to open a pdf of the Mom’s Latkas recipe card that you can print.

Food and Family, Family and Food

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One of the biggest perks of this trans-continental move has been getting closer to family; or at least closer to my in-laws. We are on the correct coast for my family and their air travel time was cut down by three hours, but we are not close enough to allow for frequent visits. Luckily for our Little Man, however, he at least gets to be closer to one set of grandparents… finally. The saddest part, of all of our moves, has been moving farther away from friends that have become family.

Living in the American Midwest we were lucky enough to have a couple of visits from family each year. Within the first two weeks of living on the island we had three visits from family, with others planned for the near future. This is my idea of an embarrassment of riches; access to family. Now if we can just get my parents to move a bit farther north… but I digress.

Little Man and Dave wading out into the ocean

Little Man and Daddy wading out in the ocean

The water was amazingly clear and shallow for quite a ways…

The most recent family visit to our little homestead was Dave’s sister. I have been blessed by being a part of multiple families of very strong women, and Dave’s sister is one of them. Because of the distance that used to exist between our respective homes, you could probably count the number of times that I have actually been able to visit her on two hands, and I’m really looking forward to getting to know her even better now that we are so close.

When we got a weekend planned for E to come out, we were all very excited and my mind immediately went to what food I could make. I get an inordinate amount of pleasure from cooking for people, and from trying to find the perfect thing or meal to create that fits that person. In E’s case, however, this can be tricky, but to quote her son “tricky, but I can do it.” For various health reasons Dave’s sister follows a unique set of dietary guidelines; not quite vegan, not quite macrobiotic; not quite gluten-free. Her diet is distinct enough that my “go to” ideas of home-made scones and cinnamon rolls did not seem appropriate (though I shamelessly will use those to lure any other family and/or friends to come and stay with us… they’re tasty… you know you want them…). Now before I give anyone the wrong idea, E is also completely “no muss, no fuss.” She does not want anyone to feel they must cater to her eating style, and in fact has been known to bring all of her food with her so as not to cause anyone stress or hassle to feed her. Challenge accepted!

For dinner I knew that I wanted to make something out of a macrobiotic-inspired cookbook that E had given me a couple of Christmases ago. The recipe I chose was the Rustic Pasta from Alicia Silverstone’s The Kind Diet: A Simple Guide to Feeling Great, Losing Weight, and Saving the Planet. I have not yet gotten permission from the publisher to post the recipe, and since I did not do anything to make it my own I’ll just have to point you in the right direction for the moment. If/when I get permission to post the recipe I will. In the meantime I can at least tell you that it is a recipe that should not work. It is a simple whole wheat pasta dish with quite a lot of onion and cabbage, and a sauce that combines a little bit of soy sauce with a little bit of marinara sauce. It should not work, but somehow it does. Even Little Man agrees, but I do admit to a liberal dusting of his favorite parmesan on top. I don’t know if I would have been brave enough to try it if E wasn’t coming to visit (motive) and if we had not just harvested a cabbage from the garden (means). Let’s just leave it at the fact that the dish was so good I just made it again for our family for dinner and Little Man scarfed it up again.

Soon to be freshly picked cabbage for a Rustic Pasta dinner

The recipe I want to highlight for this post is also not my own, but I have gotten permission to share this one with you. Kiersten Frase has an amazing blog called Oh My Veggies – A Vegetarian Food Blog (www.ohmyveggies.com) that I have been truly enjoying. In fact, one of her recipes has become my go-to breakfast. Her Mexican Chocolate Breakfast Shake (click on the text link to go to the site and recipe) takes only minutes to prepare the night before. In the morning simply toss the pre-mixed ingredients in the blender, blitz it up and you are ready to go. The shakes are creamy, intensely chocolaty and taste like a great milk shake even though they dairy free. The one change to the recipe that I make is blending in two ice cubes per serving just before pouring the shakes. This makes them even frostier, giving more of the ice cream texture. Kiersten also has a Chai Breakfast Smoothie, which we love, and a Piña Colada that I haven’t had a chance to try yet, but chances are it will be delicious.

Oh My Veggies Mexican Chocolate Breakfast Shake

I made Mexican Chocolate Breakfast Shakes for the three of us, Dave, E and myself, and Little Man did his best to smile his way to repeated tastes from all of us. Little monkey! The shakes were the perfect start to our morning. We ended up doing a day trip out to Chemainus, which is about 20 minutes south of Nanaimo. Chemainus is a pretty little town with great character right on the ocean. It is famous for its numerous murals, but Little Man wanted nothing to do with that, and instead pulled us along to the playground by the water. The water was cold but not quite toe-curling, and amazingly clear. Our little guy had a great time wading out with his Dad and looking for shells in the shallows. He also developed quite the crush on his Auntie, or I should say has rekindled the flame. Little Man has only had the chance to spend time with E on two or three trips, and each time he falls for her hard. Good thing the feeling seems to be mutual.

Family at Chemainus Beach

Two Independence Days

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Did I mention that we made the move to Vancouver Island the day after Canada Day and two days before American Independence Day? So even though I had warned our American bank that we’d be moving to Canada, an automated system caught our Canadian purchases and “temporarily” froze our account… the day before the Fourth of July… so no live person would be in the office to fix this problem until July 5. Argh! Our dilemma was discovered when we tried to buy sushi from a take-out joint for dinner. Thank goodness we had not decided to go to a sit down restaurant, had eaten our food and then found out we had no funds at all. I don’t know what we would have done. Would they accept our toddler helping us wash dishes as payment?

So we went home, frustrated and concerned about what we were going to eat that evening and the next day until the American bank opened again and freed our cash supply. Luckily the day that we unloaded our moving van I had visited the grocery store for a few staples. We had oatmeal, bananas and milk for toddler cereal in the morning, and I had also bought a bag of potatoes on the off chance that we just needed something comfort foodish… I don’t know about you, but basically any type of comfort food for me includes potato in some form. It would be another day or so before I realized our farmer friends were growing potatoes in the garden, and oh what a splendid discovery that was.

On the drive back to our sushi-less home, we remembered that we were living on a farm (yes, we were slow on the uptake that day…). Most importantly in this case, we were living on a farm that had chickens, glorious chickens. So we all put on grubby shoes and I grabbed a basket that usually held students’ papers and dropped in an unused (and unwanted) curtain as padding. As our landlords were on vacation, their friends were stopping by to take care of the animals. We had been told that we could collect eggs and eat from the garden while they were away. As we trudged up to the chicken coup, we were praying that the farm help had not completely collected all the eggs. They had not, but we will later find out that they had planned to do just that, which is a different story for a different day.

In the meantime, we needed to collect dinner. The three of us walked into the coup; or at least two of us did. The previous day our son had decided that the sheep were “too loud,” but the chickens won his heart instantly. While his love was unwavering, he was not sure about walking amongst them and instead felt safer in Dave’s arms. I can’t blame him, I’ve often felt the same way. We collected nearly 3 ½ dozen eggs that day (remember the part about other people’s plans to collect eggs? Oops!).

The ladies who saved the day

Collecting eggs for dinner

The best eggs you will ever taste

Later Dave and his mom would comment on how confident I looked in the hen house gathering eggs, and they asked about where I had learned to do that. My first thought was that it was egg collecting, not rocket science… or even archaeological science. Then I remembered that this actually was not my first time collecting eggs. Visiting my Grammie’s small farm as a child I had also collected eggs. I don’t think I did it often, and my main memory of this is being pecked by the chickens (not fondly). Flash forward to the in-between time of Canadian and American independence holidays and I suddenly found myself living on a farm, with a hungry husband and child waiting for my efforts. I think my long-missed grandmother was proud at that moment.

With our egg bounty we headed down to the garden for some herbs and lettuce. I found a little curly parsley, some fresh oregano and an abundance of chives. Basket overflowing and toddler in arms, we headed back to the house.

The potatoes were shredded, drained, seasoned and pan-fried into latkas like my Mom’s college roommate had taught her (this recipe will be shared in a later post). Another 8 of our eggs were transformed into what I on the spur of the moment named Chinese Eggs. I had never cooked with eggs that I had literally just collected minutes before. Just like restaurants use descriptive names to entice our appetites, I use the same tactic with our son whose favorite food in the world is Chicken Fried Rice. The only way I got him to try (and love) an amazing roasted sweet potato risotto was to call it Italian Fried Rice. I have no shame when it comes to food shenanigans that get him to eat. So our Independence Day meal (for both countries) was made up of my Mom’s Latkas, Chinese Eggs, a salad of freshly harvested lettuces and fresh herbs, tossed simply with a little olive oil, salt and white pepper.

As we ate and laughed about our farm fresh feast, washed down with a lovely, cheap Californian wine I brought in my luggage, we sent all grateful thoughts to those chickens and their absent caretakers. When Dave and I married in upstate New York, promising for better or for worse, much of what I was thinking about was the difficulties of life as an academic, especially for two academics in the same field. I certainly did not imagine (in dream or nightmare) living on a farm, feeding my amazing family with the bounty that we had literally just collected from the ground 30 minutes prior. All in all, this was a pretty good way to celebrate independence.

On my way to the chives

Chinese Eggs

I named these “Chinese” Eggs in honor of my profuse amount of chives, which reminded me of an amazing sautéed flowering chive dish I’d had at a much missed restaurant in upstate New York. Using the catch word “Chinese” was also a ploy to entice my son to try them. He usually does not like scrambled eggs, but he LOVES Chinese food. In this case the ruse worked and he gobbled them up! If you are curious as to why I only used half of the yolks in this recipe, I did that in an effort to lower our overall cholesterol intake for this meal. Between the Chinese Eggs and the Latkas I used an entire dozen! We didn’t finish it all, but that was still quite a few eggs on our table at once. I also used white pepper as opposed to black because I had not yet found where I had packed the black pepper. It was a fortuitous difficulty since the flavor of the white pepper was perfect for this dish.

8 eggs divided (4 whole and 4 whites)

1 cup finely chopped fresh herbs (such as parsley, chives and tarragon)

½ teaspoon white pepper

Salt to taste

Olive oil for the pan

In a medium bowl whisk the four whole eggs and four egg whites together. Mix in the chopped herbs, pepper and salt.

Heat a non-stick pan over medium heat and add a splash of olive oil. Pour in the egg mixture and stir, stir, stir. Cook the eggs until the whites are set and then remove them from the pan to a serving bowl.

*If cooking for children, pregnant women or anyone who is immune compromised be sure to cook the eggs thoroughly.

Click the following link for a pdf version of the recipe that can be printed.

Chinese Eggs Recipe

The Sheep Are Out…

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Close up of Mallow blossoms near our home.

“The sheep are out…”

“No, Dad, they are in their pen, it just looks like they are out.”

“No, the sheep are out…”

We had lived on the farm for three days and our farmer landlords were away on a long-planned vacation, having left before we had arrived. Now, as we were just sitting down to the first dinner with my in-laws in our new home… the sheep were out.

Let me begin by stating that Dave and I are NOT farmers. In fact, we haven’t even proven to be successful gardeners yet. We moved to Vancouver Island with our toddler son for a new job and happened to stumble on this fantastic rental property smack in the middle of a small organic farm. Awesome! But now the main residents of the farm were “going on walk aboot” and we had to figure out how to get them back into their picturesque setting.

Dave and his Dad ran down to tend to the sheep, while I called the previous renter and stared incredulously over my wine glass across our unfinished deck at the scene below. To say that our deck is “unfinished” is to put it kindly. Our deck does not exist. In fact, the glass French doors that will eventually open out to the deck currently open out to a grand drop of about 15 feet down to the dirt below. An old bannister with flaking white paint has been nailed outside of the doors to forestall anyone visiting the deck before it is actually in place. This means that Dave’s Mom, our toddler son and I had an amazing double-glass door view from our table to the scene unfolding below.

There were probably only 10 sheep that had gotten out, but they are robust, large sheep not the soft little lambs of the cartoons. Dave and his Dad were being remarkably successful in herding the sheep back towards their pen as they surged in waves around the backyard. That is to say that they were being remarkably successful until the farm dog came to “help,” and in a burst of joy scattered the sheep across the property. Once the dog was separated from the sheep, the men were able to corral them and head back to dinner.

For some people, the idea of running out of the dining room to corral sheep may not seem like such a herculean venture. Why make such a fuss? Those people have never met Dave or me.

Dave and I are both city kids, born and raised in large West Coast metropolises. We have spent a number of years living in the Midwest and I had studied farm politics, but we’d never ventured to the actual farm side of food production. Now we had moved our family of three halfway across the continent, across national borders, to an island where I knew how to do nothing. Literally. I can’t figure out the temperature (Celsius), the speed or distance to anything (kilometers), or how to use their debit card machines (Interac). It’s not pretty. Anyone who thinks that Canada and the States are the same, should move across a border and see just how similar things are. They aren’t. Similarly, teaching university classes, writing dissertations and researching academic articles do not quite prepare you for the “real world” of sheep wrangling before your dinner gets cold.

Yet despite the dog’s best efforts to scatter the sheep to the winds, Dave and his Dad managed to get the sheep contained and return to their dinners unscathed. Dave’s Mom was concerned that their dinners were cold; our son was simply concerned that someone keeps filling his little plate; and the men looked a bit dazed. In my mind, however, a slightly cooled dinner would only last in our memories for a few moments; the story of this evening would live in the family forever.

The next morning I was feeling the need for “home,” and following the advice of real estate agents to make your house smell inviting, I baked up a batch of these Banana Chocolate muffins. I’ve adapted the recipe a bit, but the original comes from Nigella Lawson’s Nigella Kitchen: Recipes from the Heart of the Home. I may not be a domestic goddess, but her food makes me feel homey. And our son, who was a total trooper through the entire move, had just lost all of his friends, his parks, his familiar jaunts. Most of his toys were still packed, and he kept asking where we were. These muffins are one of his favorite things, and I wanted to see that little chocolate smeared smile.

Later that evening, once Dave’s folks had taken the ferry to the mainland (our son thinks his grandparents just might be “fairies” going to the Mainland from Neverland Island), Dave and I sat on the little arbor bench next to the driveway. We were looking out over the pasturage lined with trees, sipping two well-deserved frosty beverages after our day of unpacking an endless stream of boxes, when the sheep started bleating from their stalls and we started laughing. The sheep were most definitely not out this time, but our new home promises to be an interesting adventure.

Banana Chocolate Muffins

Makes 1 dozen awesome muffins

These are my son’s favorite muffins. He thinks he’s getting a real treat, and doesn’t realize all the good things packed into these great little packages. My best experiences with this recipe are when I use four (and sometimes up to six) over-ripe bananas that I’ve stored in the freezer. When bananas are just about too far gone, I chuck them into the freezer to use later for muffins like these. Just put the frozen bananas on a plate in a single layer in the microwave for about 20 seconds or so to soften them up. You can also pull them out of the freezer the night before you want to make them and thaw them on the counter, but I’m never that well-organized.

4 very ripe bananas

¼ cup canola oil

¼ cup plain yogurt (I use fat free, but full fat is fine too)

2 eggs

½ cup packed brown sugar

1 cup all purpose flour

½ cup whole wheat flour

3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ cup good quality dark chocolate chips (optional… if you don’t like awesome)

1 cup chopped toasted walnuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 400ºF and line a muffin pan with paper liners.

In a large bowl mash the bananas, leaving them a little coarse. Mix in the oil, yogurt, eggs and sugar.

In a medium bowl mix the flours, cocoa powder, baking powder and baking soda. Gently add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, being careful to not over mix the batter. Gently fold in the chocolate and walnuts if using. Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin pan.

Bake in the preheated oven for 15-20 minutes. Let the muffins rest briefly in the pan and then cool them on a wire rack.

Chocolate Banana Muffin batter

Filling the muffin tins

My “new to me” oven runs a bit hot, so these are almost over done, but the extra-doneness just makes them taste extra-chocolatey.

Banana Chocolate Muffins Card

Click on the above link for a pdf version of the recipe that can be printed.

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