I know what you’re thinking. I just took one, right? Well, I have a good reason for it. At the moment, I have the flu and a massive pile of work to do before I take off for Australia and Europe for work (studying physics does pay off sometimes, if you like to travel). I don’t think anyone really wants to eat hot soup on days like these, so I’ll spare you my home remedies. Instead, I’ll be back in two weeks, reporting from Melbourne.

There’s something sinister about opening a can of tar-black something or other and throwing it into a pot. Unless, of course, you happen to be carrying a can of cuttlefish in ink. I discovered the stuff perhaps a year or so ago, in a local grocery store, and was intrigued by the box:

This could either be a very good purchase, or a seriously painful mistake. Undeterred, I made the ugliest risotto I’ve ever seen. I’ve been a cuttlefish convert ever since. In case you haven’t had them, cuttlefish are basically squid. In this form, they’re cut into relatively small chunks and bathed in a swathe of squid ink, which serves as a rich but subtle reminder of your meal’s origins. It also happens to have a somewhat creamy consistency, which makes it excellent for making a pasta sauce that’s both creamy and dairy free.

It pairs nicely (and quite simply) with sweet corn, garlic, and red bell peppers. This happened to be a pre-night shift lunch a few weeks ago, and took a whole 10 minutes to cook? The pasta was the limiting factor.

Cuttlefish pasta with corn and red bell peppers

Serves 2 as a main course.

• 2 servings of some kind of whole grain spaghetti (or shape of your choice, though the longer strands were quite nice in this)
• salt, to taste
• 1 4 oz. can cuttlefish in ink (if you can find this from a fishmonger, I’m sure it’d be even better)
• 1 red bell pepper, sliced into long slivers
• 1 c. frozen corn
• red chili powder or red pepper flakes, to taste
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• olive oil
• lemon wedges, as a garnish (optional)
• I think this would be really great with a bit of cilantro sprinkled over the top, as well, or perhaps some fennel bulb slivers?

Start the pasta according to the directions on the package. Make sure you salt the water when it comes to a boil, before you throw the pasta in. The water should taste like a properly seasoned soup if you’ve salted it properly.

In a heavy cast iron pan, heat a glug of olive oil over medium heat. After a minute or two, throw in the garlic. Stir the garlic constantly for <1 minute (you don’t want it to burn), then add the peppers. Keep stirring the peppers and garlic over medium heat for a minute or two, and then add the corn (yes, it’s ok if it’s frozen when you add it; I’m lazy sometimes, too).  Cook for a couple of minutes more over medium low heat, stirring occasionally, until the corn is hot. Add the cuttlefish in ink (the whole tin — you shouldn’t reserve any liquid). Stir and cook for a few minutes more, until the whole mixture is hot. Adjust the spiciness / seasoning with the chili powder or red pepper flakes and salt.  Cover, remove from heat, and set aside. When your pasta is ready (it should be al dente), drain and toss in the cuttlefish sauce. Serve immediately, with lemon wedges as garnish.

This is the story of a girl who craved pad thai, but didn’t want to leave the house.

Good thing her pantry was full. She was missing a few ingredients, however. No flat rice noodles for her — only vermicelli could be found. And shrimp? Well, the dried variety would have to do. Bean sprouts were completely out of the question. But with her garden’s bounty, and a few substitutions, she found she could make do.

Did she regret staying in? Not for a second.

Mock pad thai

Serves 2.

Oh, I’m silly today. This isn’t bad, but you should taste the sauce and adjust as you go to get something you’ll really like.  I based this on Chez Pim’s wonderful Pad Thai for Beginners, which inspired me to buy palm sugar in the first place. You might check out her guide if you want something a little closer to the real thing.

• 2 servings rice vermicelli, soaked in warm water until just tender
• Assorted vegetables, cut up. I used snow peas, garlic scapes, and baby bok choy, plus a few squash blossoms from the garden. Trust me, if you have squash blossoms, save them for something they’ll stand out in. They’re too gorgeous to waste.
• 1/3 c. peanuts, finely ground
• 3 chopped scallions or spring onions (they were from my garden)
• 1-2 T. chopped cilantro
• 3 cloves garlic, chopped
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten
• 1/2 block extra firm tofu, frozen and thawed, or at least squeezed to remove excess moisture
• peanut oil, for cooking
• 1/8 c. dried shrimp, ground (optional)
• ~1/3 c. fish sauce, or nam pla
• ~3 T. tamarind paste/concentrate. You can use the pulp, but I think you have to soak it in water and push it through a mesh sieve.
• ~1/3 c. palm sugar

Heat the fish sauce, tamarind paste, and palm sugar in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves; taste and adjust proportions as necessary. The fish sauce is the salty bit, the palm sugar is (obviously) sweet, and the tamarind is tart, so you may prefer to feature one flavor in your dish. I chose to focus on the tamarind; I like the tartness.

Heat wok over high flame until it starts smoking. Add 2-3 T. peanut oil, and then throw in the garlic, tossing quickly. Add the egg, stir until curds form, remove from the pan, and set aside. Next, replenish the oil in the pan, let the heat build, and then add the tofu and a large spoonful of the sauce mixture. Toss in the hot oil until cooked (1-2 minutes). Remove from the wok and set aside.

Add more oil, let it heat up for a minute, and then throw in the vegetables and another big spoonful of the sauce. Cook for a minute or two, until the vegetables are crunchy but tender. If you choose tougher vegetables than mine, you may need to add those first and cook them longer, or precook them. Once they’re done, remove them from the wok and set aside.

Add more oil to the wok and let heat once again. Add the noodles and two large spoonfuls of the sauce. Toss for a minute, then add in the other ingredients you just cooked, as well as the peanuts, scallions, dried shrimp, and cilantro. Toss together and serve immediately.

Tortilla making is a satisfying, all-consuming, sweaty endeavor. It isn’t meant for humid days like these, unless you want to feel your hands grow swift as you find your rhythm, rolling each and every paper-thin expanse of soft, pliable dough into something worth tasting, worth talking about.

It’s satisfying, I suppose. You start with flour, butter, salt, water, and maybe a little something extra, for flavor, and you end up with a pile so high it barely fits under the massive bowl you use to try to keep in the moisture as they cool. Then you fill them with something — anything — delicious, and laugh as it crumbles into a beautiful mess in your hands. No, these are not store-bought tortillas. No dough conditioners or mystery ingredients to keep these babies together. Just the gluten you build up with your hands as you knead and roll.

These are from Peter Reinhart’s Crust and Crumb, which has the most reliable tortilla recipe I’ve found thus far. Yes, it uses a stick of butter for every 8 large tortillas, but that’s not so bad, really. Not when they’re this delicious. You can substitute other oils (safflower, canola, etc) if you like, but the tortillas will be a bit more brittle, and not quite as worth the hot oven and hard work. Besides, I made these a bit more virtuous, with the simple substitution of half whole wheat flour and the addition of whole and ground flax seed (which have the added benefit of contributing an amazing roasted flavor to the final product). You can go a bit further and use water from cooked greens for, say, spinach and flax seed tortillas, if you prefer. So they’re healthy, right?

In other words, run with this recipe. It’s a good, solid base to start with, and puts up with tinkering without much fuss. If you don’t do anything too crazy, I think it’ll give you consistent, delicious results every time. Oh, and it’ll save you a ton of cash, which is a nice side benefit, don’t you think? I think the double recipe (including expensive flax seeds) probably cost me about $5. Given that my local grocery store charges ~$4 for 4 large “healthy” wraps, I just saved myself ~$11. AND I got to throw flour all over the kitchen, which is free entertainment as far as I’m concerned.

Flaxseed tortillas

Makes 16 small or 8 large (wrap/burrito-size) tortillas.

These freeze well and defrost quickly, so I usually make a double batch. Just be careful not to let them sit out in open air, as they will become brittle if they dry out. They are also not as pliable as grocery store tortillas, but I think that’s actually a good thing if you’re trying to avoid consuming strange ingredients.

• 3-1/2 c. (16 oz) flour. I used half unbleached all purpose, half whole wheat durum in this batch.
• 3/4 t. salt
• 1 stick (4 oz) butter, softened
• 1 c. lukewarm water
• 3/4 c. whole flax seeds (approximately). Optional.
• 2 T. ground flax seeds. Optional. I add the ground flax because the omega-3s aren’t absorbed as well from whole flax. Besides, I have some in the fridge, and flax seeds are tasty, so why not?

Preheat oven to 550°F, or as hot as it will get. Make sure you have a few baking pans, a cast iron skillet, or a couple of pizza stones in there to start out with, to cook the tortillas on. Alternatively, you can cook these in a hot, dry skillet on the stove top (1-2 min. each side), but it doesn’t work quite as well.

Mix all ingredients together until the flour is uniformly wet. Knead for three or four minutes, either in the bowl or on a lightly floured surface. You may need to adjust the amount of water in the recipe; the dough should be soft and pliable, not sticky. If it’s sticky, add a bit more flour. If it’s not soft, add a bit more water. Wetting your hands and kneading a bit more is probably the best way to avoid overcompensating.

Cut the dough into 8 even chunks and form balls. Place under a tea towel and let sit for 20-30 minutes, until the oven’s hot and you’re ready to cook. This rest is important for developing the flavor of the tortilla, so don’t skip it.

When you’re ready to cook them, roll each ball of dough into a thin, roundish disk. Make them one at a time, cook as you go, and keep the ones you haven’t rolled out yet covered as you work. You may need to use extra flour to keep them from sticking to the counter, but the dough shouldn’t be too difficult to work with. If it is, use lots of flour, and remember to add a little less water to the dough next time you make these.

After you roll one out, slide it into the oven, onto your sheet pan, pizza stone, or cast iron skillet. Roll out another, slide that into the oven, and flip the first one. Roll another one out, take the first one out of the oven and place on a plate, under a large bowl, flip the second one, and slide in the third one. Repeat that pattern until you don’t have any more dough left to roll out.

In case that last paragraph is confusing, the basic idea is to cook each tortilla for ~1 minute on each side in a hot oven, while keeping the dough you haven’t rolled out or cooked yet from drying out. I find the rhythm above works best for me, but you may have to adjust depending on your kitchen size and personal cooking style.

Oh, a peel is a nice thing to have for shoveling tortillas in and out of the oven; tongs kind of tear up the tortillas if you’re not careful. A lipless cookie pan will work nicely as well.

I thought I’d share this one while strawberries and rhubarb are still in season. We had a pile of each sitting in our house, wilting in the humidity, and I decided to take matters into my own hands and do something about it before they both went to waste. A good thing, too, given that strawberries were $6 a quart last week, and they weren’t even that tasty.

I can’t blame them, really — with all this rain, we haven’t managed to actually harvest any of ours before they’ve started rotting. But onto more pleasant things…

Strawberry rhubarb compote

This isn’t really a recipe, but it’s a delicious way to dress up slightly mushy fruit.  All you need is:

• a cheap bottle of red wine (you don’t need all of it — half a bottle will do)
• some sugar or agave nectar
• a bit of vanilla or other spice of choice (optional)
• fruit. In this case, I used strawberry and rhubarb. ~1/2 quart strawberries, and 3 stalks of rhubarb cut into 3/4″ pieces.
• I really wish I had added in a bit of orange zest, but that’s sort of besides the point.

Here’s what you do: cut your fruit up, discarding anything inedible. Pour in the wine to cover, add a bit of the spice or vanilla, some sugar (not much to start) and bring to a simmer. After the fruit has softened a bit, taste and adjust the sweetness until you’re happy with it. Continue cooking until you have a mushy, delicious, jam-like creation. 30 minutes will probably do it. Store in a jar in the fridge, and use to top things like sourdough waffles (recipe coming soon) and vanilla ice cream. Simple enough?

I’m incredibly uninspired today, mostly because I spent all day trying to be a computer geek and install a linux virtual machine. Who needs 276 updates ever? Ok — except Windows.  But there’s a recipe, of course, to go with my boredom-fueled post, featuring this baby right here:

No, I’m not growing green beans on top of my lab (though it’d be an awesome place for a garden). These are “yard-long beans”, which taste kind of like green beans, but without the sweet aftertaste. And while I’d love to spin some tale about how you MUST try these now, I’m not convinced myself — it would be an utter lie. Not even so much because of the flavor, but because these guys seemed to go from squeaky to mushy in no predictable fashion. They are kind of cool looking, though — like Rapunzel beans. Luckily, this recipe WILL work for normal green beans or haricots verts. So if you need a little somethin’ to dress up your veggies, give it a try.  If only because you too can then photograph your food growing colder by the second, as you line up your camera and try your best to bring out your inner “artiste.”

Or you could just eat up.

Long beans in ginger sauce

Serves 4 as a side dish.

This is adapted from Fuchsia Dunlop’s Land of Plenty, which is a pretty good source for Sichuan Cooking, and is well written to boot. I really should post a better recipe from this book, because everything I’ve tried has been great, but James liked this one, so don’t take my criticisms too seriously. I think I just don’t really like long beans … Funnily enough, she uses haricots verts in her version, but says long beans are more traditional.

• ~1 lb. long beans, sliced into 2″ sticks, or about the same weight of green beans or haricots verts
• sesame oil, to taste. If you have a stronger sesame oil, you may need a bit less than the 4 t. originally called for, so I’m not even going to bother giving
• 1 T. chinkiang vinegar - a rich, dark Chinese rice vinegar. It’s good stuff; if you can find some at your local Chinese market, pick it up. If not, you can sub in regular rice vinegar, but it won’t be as good.
• 2″ segment of ginger, finely chopped or grated
• touch of soy sauce, or salt
• 3 T. chicken stock or water
• sprinkle of black sesame seeds (my addition)

Bring a medium pot of water to boil. Toss in the long beans and cook for two or three minutes, until they’re tender but still firm.  Mix all remaining ingredients together and pour over the beans. Serve.

It’s been a while since I wrote about bread on this blog. There was a vacation, failed (though promising) recipe or two, and the typical excuses of a busy life. Our staple’s just to easy to fall back on. But you knew it couldn’t last, right?

These loaves were, oddly enough, inspired by a recent trip to the freezer. Things have been getting a bit spare in there, since we started eating from the garden, so, as you might expect, weird things are suddenly emerging from its depths. No, I’m not talking about decade-old steaks or anything quite so petrified. I’m talking about flour.

A rye blend and buckwheat flour, to be precise — both begging to be used. Now, you’re probably wondering what rye and buckwheat have to do with the lovely looking baguette pictures I’m posting here. Unless, of course, you’ve taken a tour through Paris with Daniel Leader, and found Eric Kayser’s buckwheat batard recipe in among the typical Parisian fare.

You’ll need a sourdough starter, which is where the rye blend comes in, and plenty of buckwheat for this recipe. You also need to let go of the idea that this bread will behave. Buckwheat, as it so happens, is not your normal flour. It’s the seed of a plant that happens to be related to rhubarb and sorrel, and doesn’t actually have much gluten to speak of. It will take high gluten flour, a nice, active sourdough starter, and some patience to make this recipe work.

Now that I’ve scared you off, I’ll tell you that it’s worth every bit of trouble. The 10-day sourdough process, the long kneading times, and the expensive high gluten flour (which we get directly from King Arthur), are all forgiven once you taste these loaves. The buckwheat? It comes through in its characteristically nutty, smooth way. The flavor is distinctive and fascinating somehow. It’s certainly not your everyday baguette. And the crumb? Well, decide for yourself.

I think it turned out pretty damn well for a first go, don’t you?

Buckwheat baguettes

Makes 4 mini-baguettes

You will need liquid levain (instructions for making this below) for this recipe. I should also warn you — the recipe as Daniel Leader wrote it, and as I made it, produced far more buckwheat levain than you need in the recipe. I turned the rest of mine into some sourdough buckwheat waffles (add an egg or two, a bit of sugar, vanilla, all purpose flour, a couple of tablespoons of butter, and milk until you have a batter), but you can also safely double the recipe without doubling the levain. This recipe will take two days, and you’ll need to be around for the second day, so plan ahead.

Finally, remember that buckwheat has very little gluten. You need bread flour or a mix of all purpose and high gluten flour (like I used here) to achieve the light crumb structure you probably want for these loaves. You also need to make sure you actually develop that gluten structure properly, so don’t skimp on the kneading.

Buckwheat Levain

• 1-1/2 c. (10.6 oz) liquid levain (see below)
• 2 T. (1.2 oz) water, tepid
• 3/4 c. (4.4 oz) buckwheat flour

In a large bowl, mix all ingredients together until smooth. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit overnight. It should have increased in size nearly twofold, and look like this:

Final Dough

• 1-1/3 c. water, room temperature
• 2-3/4 c. (15.9 oz) unbleached bread flour or a mix (~1/2 and 1/2) of all purpose and high gluten flour. This bread needs the gluten in order to form the open crumb you want, so I would advise against substituting all purpose flour for bread flour.
• 1/2 c. (1.8 oz) buckwheat flour
• ~2/3 c. (4.4 oz) buckwheat levain
• 1-1/2 t. (0.4 oz) sea salt

Mix the flours and water together until you get a rough, crumbly dough. It should look something like this:

Let the mixture sit for 20 minutes or so, and then add the salt and buckwheat levain. Mix together (with your hands — that’s easiest), until the dough comes together, on a lightly floured surface. You can put some olive oil on your hands if you want to keep them from getting caked in dough.

Knead for 10-12 minutes, until the dough is soft, supple, and stretchy. Tear a golf-ball sized piece off and stretch it; it shouldn’t tear easily. If it does, keep going for a minute or two, and then try again. Your final product should be a little bit sticky; this dough is wet, so it’s not necessarily the easiest to knead, but you’ll get there. Use olive oil more than flour to keep it from sticking to the countertop.

Once the kneading is complete, coat a large bowl lightly with a bit of olive oil. Place the ball of dough in the bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let sit for 3 or 4 hours, until it almost doubles in size. Mine didn’t quite get there — It increased to ~1.5 its original size — but maybe you’ll have more luck.

Next, turn the dough out onto a lightly floured countertop. Handle the dough minimally to avoid deflating it!!

Cut the dough into four long rectangles. Stretch them into snakes and place them on a baking pan or peel lined with parchment. Cover with a tea towel and let sit for 1.5 hours. Remember to preheat your oven about 30 minutes before baking time.

Slash the tops of the baguettes with the sharpest knife you own. You want to slice the bread diagonally, all along the surface (check out the baguette pictures if you’re confused). Hold the knife at a 45 degree angle from the surface of the bread, and cut in a smooth, confident motion.

Place in the oven, preferably on a pre-heated pizza stone or hearth. Spray water on the floor and / or sides of the oven, to create a steam bath for the bread, and close the oven door. Don’t peek for 20 minutes! After that, you can check for doneness. The bread should be a nice dark brown color, sort of like glazed pottery, and should sound hollow when tapped on the bottom.

Let cool on a wire rack, and THEN enjoy. Or not — I can never wait for that to happen either.

Liquid Levain

Liquid levain is basically a batter-like sourdough starter. You can either acquire some, and adjust the flour / water ratio to make a levain with the consistency of pancake batter, or you can make your own. Making your own isn’t actually that difficult; you just need some rye flour, all purpose flour, and some patience. Mix 2/3 c. filtered water, at room temperature, with 3 T. all purpose flour and 3 T. rye flour in a large, lidded container. The next day, mix in 1/3 c. each of all purpose flour and filtered water (or, you can use a rye blend like I did, though it’s not necessary; I really need to get rid of the stuff…!) Stir until the flour is completely hydrated, cover, and repeat every day, once a day, until the starter smells and tastes sour, and has small bubbles covering its surface. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to see at least some tiny bubbles on its surface. Once your levain is active, you should start throwing out (or giving away) all but 1/4 c. of your starter. You also only have to refresh it once a week, if you store it in the fridge. To refresh, mix in 3/4 c. water and 3/4 c. flour, cover, and let stand at room temperature for 8-12 hours. Return to the fridge.

Or you could just do what my dad did and stick a mix of rye flour and water in the fridge for a week, while he went on vacation. He had his own starter when he returned!

There are only two things I crave on a night shift: coffee and chocolate. Not that night shifts are special in this way; it’s just the cravings seem a bit more appropriate then. In reality, that parody of the English professor in Stranger Than Fiction (awesome movie, by the way) is starting to feel a little too close to home.  Did you notice the perpetual cup of coffee in his hand, for those of you who have seen the movie? Yah, that’s pretty much true of everyone here in the lab who actually drinks coffee.

So what’s the point of this post? Well … Coffee can have a pretty big toll on both my carbon footprint and my environmental impact, in ways I didn’t really think about when I decided to get addicted to the stuff in the first place. Back then (junior high school, for the record), all I cared about was not looking Mormon in Salt Lake City. Now? I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with the ritual. The espresso machine in the morning, or the latte in the cafe down the street. But I’m hoping to get my fix in a slightly more responsible manner these days.  The good news is, it isn’t that hard to make a few choices that will at least minimize the damage your coffee habit causes. I promise, I won’t say you should quit, ok, because I’m just not ready for that. Heh… No, I’m not an addict.  Right??

Ok, so here’s my simple advice: Choose coffee companies that pay growers and workers fairly, and use organic, sustainable growing practices.

Admittedly, my advice sounds simpler than it is, which is partially because I started this post with the idea that looking for a sticker on a bag would do. I was simply going to advocate for organic, fair trade, shade-grown coffee beans, but then I came across this post on the Intelligentsia website, which discusses the shade-grown certification and why they don’t support it. And I think some of the reasoning makes sense. Ok, I think the diaper argument they use as an analogy is kind of ridiculous, but I do agree that blanket certification is not always a good thing. I also agree with the fact that habitats in which coffee shrubs are grown vary considerably from region to region. If you’re going to start a coffee plantation in the rainforest, you’re better off choosing shade-grown coffee, for the very reason that clear-cutting the rainforest destroys habitats (even for birds that you may think of as native to the US). Beyond that, I’m not sure shade-grown makes sense in places where there is very little shade to begin with.

So I guess the lesson is, think about what you’re buying before you buy it. And ask questions if you’re unsure. It’s the only way to get companies to support sustainable practices, because if their customers care, then they will have to start caring as well.

Some companies I support? Well, I wish I had a long list for you, but this is a relatively new search for me, as you might have guessed from the non-linearity of this post. Intelligentsia isn’t a bad place to start, and you can buy a pound for only a little more than you’d spend at Starbucks. For the New Haven residents reading this, Fuel in Wooster Square is a good place to try, and Lulu’s is the kind of shop where you can ask and expect a detailed answer about where your beans come from. As long as Lulu is working the counter, of course… As an aside, the coffee’s pretty damn good (though I only order actual coffee — I’ve never really been a fan of their lattes, when I can make better ones at home). Koffee (any of them) will sell you fair trade, organic beans, and that’s reportedly all they serve. I only wish I liked their coffee a bit more.

It’s about time! I am actually proud to be from California today; if only the rest of the country would follow.

The sky flickers momentarily, illuminating the shadows for just long enough to show you that yes, you are about to step in a rather large puddle. A moat, if you will. When it rains here in the summer, nature spares no expense at creating a scene. Not that I mind, as long as I can seek refuge indoors when the lightning’s at its worst.

In truth, the rain makes running exhilarating, as the heavy air becomes cool — if only for a moment. When I was growing up, it was a thing to long for, to keep our ground moist and our water supplies above disaster levels.  Here, it’s taken for granted, and in some parts of the country at the moment, it is feared. For good reason, too. What nourishes the ground one day may wash away carefully planted seeds the next.

What exactly does this have to do with garlic soup? Nothing, unless you happen to find it’s a comforting thing to have in the house on days like these. Especially when your officemates are coming down with colds. This version is adapted from Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1 (which I got for a whole $4 — best purchase ever), and if you’ve never had garlic soup, you’re in for a surprise. Think subtle, tasty broth, not garlicky, spicy mess. In fact, if I had to substitute stock with anything, this soup base would be my first choice.

Serve it with a bit of bread toasted in olive oil, and you have a delicious starter. Or add some protein in the form of red kidney beans and a bit of whole wheat pasta, for your own minestrone-like dish. Whatever you do: Don’t skimp on the garlic. I promise, you won’t regret a single clove.

Garlicky vegetable soup

Serves 6-8

Julia says this soup is good for “the liver, blood circulation, general physical tone, and spiritual health.” Somehow, I don’t doubt her claims; I could swear this one has kept me well more times than I can count.  Her original version doesn’t add the vegetables, and calls for egg yolks and olive oil, which I really didn’t enjoy when I tried it last. Vegetables are a much nicer (and lighter) pairing with this aromatic broth. This recipe is based on what I happened to have on hand at the time; as usual, feel free to play.

• 1 head (~16 cloves) peeled garlic
• 2 quarts water
• 2 t. salt
• pinch pepper
• 2 cloves
• 1/4 t. sage
• 1/4 t. thyme
• 1 avocado leaf. Use 1/2 a bay leaf, as the original recipe called for, if you wish. I happened to be out of them, so I substituted the avocado leaf.
• 4 parsley sprigs
• 3 T. olive oil
• Vegetables of your choice — I used 2 parsnips, a couple of carrots, one poblano pepper for some spice, and fennel

Place all the ingredients (except quick-cooking vegetables, if you choose to add them) in the saucepan. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 30 minutes. Add spinach or other quick-cooking vegetables or frozen vegetables, cook for five minutes more, and serve. Easy, right?

Our garden’s reveling in the summer sun, throwing up signs of contentment in little shoots and buds. Sprouts of questionable heritage yielded spindly little seedlings, which eventually transformed into our little patch of controlled chaos in the backyard. Along with it, creatures emerged — little slugs and aphids, butterflies and ladybugs. Signs that soon (well, now, actually), we’d be competing for the very produce we made possible.

I’ve been reading Michael Pollan’s Second Nature: A Gardener’s Education, which makes the transition to the “wilderness” of the national parks we just visited back to civilization an interesting one. It’s a comfortable book, meandering through the seasons — and his garden, in each — with a thoughtful ease. And while it’s preachy at times, I think his point about America’s view of nature is dead on. Yes, we invented the concept of national preservation areas, where wilderness could be preserved for all to see. And yes, as the ranger in Prairie Creek State Park pointed out, we have cleared virtually every single old growth forest outside of those preservation areas since we decided to settle here. Pollan’s explanation of this is that we have an “all or nothing” view of nature, and how we manage it;

Once a landscape is no longer ‘virgin’ it is typically written off as fallen, lost to nature, irredeemable. We hand it over to the jurisdiction of that other sacrosanct American ethic: laissez-faire economics.

Yes — big developers. Because who wouldn’t want more condos? It’s already ruined, right? This is despite the fact that, as Pollan points out, man has had a profound effect on nature as we see it. We’re part of it, and we influence it, in our introduction of foreign species, our management policies, and our understanding of our role in its history. Most of the time, we’ve had a more profound effect than we know. His point? We have, in essence, become “gardeners” of our landscape, responsible for its care and general health.

We’ve done a good job, in some cases (the State and National Park systems, an example of which is shown above, are a case in point). But in a lot of instances, I think this all-or-nothing concept (which seems to pervade our thinking, really — politically, environmentally, economically, and socially) is dangerous. It gives us license to write off our responsibility, to ignore our role in the planet’s future. Yes, it’s easier to manage; the lines are black and white, easily placed into the law books for all to see. But just as industrial ag is easier on a large scale, it’s not necessarily better.

I guess that’s why we started this garden. And why I’ll keep it up. I didn’t think I’d like it… I thought it’d be just another chore. I mean, this is me — I barely water the house plants; I used to kill them before James came along and started watching over them all. But I find myself going out to visit it every morning, to keep tabs on the soil condition, the new buds, and the creatures I find myself learning more about, in order to defend our plants’ tender leaves. It’s all the more interesting when you can’t just spray a few chemicals about to take care of whatever your problems are. So far, everything is doing pretty well. We’ve had to share our strawberries with the birds, and had some hungry leaf miners eat through the first leaves of chard. Other than that? We have strong, healthy tomato plants, and some amazing squash and cucumber coming along. Our carrots seem happy, and the potato we planted from the Union Square greenmarket is finally pushing a few buds up out of the soil. And we have more lettuce than we can eat — a few plants are going to seed, and I’m just going to let them, just to see what happens. Oh — and I can’t wait for the tomatoes.

So, with that, I’ll leave you with a recipe. Well — this isn’t really a recipe. I just threw a few veggies, some pasta, and a sauce together and called it lunch. But it’s really tasty (with sort of a satay flavor), and makes use of the garlic scapes that seem to be the only new and interesting thing at the Wooster Square farmer’s market at the moment. It’ll be perfect with our yellow pears, carrots, and spring onions later in the season. I only hope I’m still in New Haven when things start to get really exciting.

Satay Pasta Salad

I’m not going to give quantities here, because I’m not sure I can. Taste as you add — it’s a good thing to get used to anyway — and you’ll have something you enjoy. You’ll need a few special ingredients, which you should be able to find at your local Asian market.

Serves 4?

• 4 servings whole wheat pasta, cooked
• handful of peanuts, crushed. I used a mortar and pestle to break them up into crumb-sized pieces.
• a carrot or two, grated
• handful of broccoli
• a few garlic scapes, cut into 1/2″ pieces. These are actually the buds of garlic flowers, and they’re pungent, garlicky, and totally delicious raw or cooked. If you don’t like garlicky flavors, you’ll want to leave these out or cook them (steam them or toss them in oil for a few minutes).
• handful of cherry tomatoes
• a glug of oyster sauce
• a glug or two of sweet soy sauce (It’s kind of thick, and is the main ingredient in pad see ew)
• a little bit of fish sauce (Cock brand is probably the best I’ve tried, but I’m no expert. It at least seems stable at room temperature, which is fine by me.)
• a glug of sesame oil (go light on this; it can be overpowering, depending on the brand you have)
• a glug of Chinkiang vinegar - this is a black rice vinegar, typically used in Chinese cooking. Any rice vinegar would probably do, but I like the flavor of this particular kind. It isn’t anything like balsamic, contrary to what some sources may say. You can safely substitute any rice vinegar, though — the sweet soy and oyster are the primary flavor components in this salad.
• fresh ginger, grated, to taste

Mix all sauce ingredients (all but the veggies, peanuts, and pasta) together, tasting as you add each one. Once you’re happy with that, toss the veggies, peanuts, pasta, and sauce together. Chill and serve. Easy enough, right? This is delicious on a hot summer day, and would go really well with a sparkling white wine, a sauvignon blanc, or a wheat beer. Oh — and play with the veggie combinations. This is by no means the only way to make this pasta salad.

Sometimes it’s best to let the picture speak for itself. Especially when it’s too hot to type, and you still have a page of your thesis to write before bedtime. At least the sticky New Haven heat is giving me incentive to finish this damn degree already, and escape somewhere else — anywhere, really. (Aha — now you know why I’ve been sticking to food lately. Aside from my vacation, there really hasn’t been much to report. That and I don’t have time to read a newspaper. But I digress. Did I mention we stood 100 feet from a mountain lion and survived? I don’t think we looked as good as these ribs…)

Anyway, we made these char siu-style ribs on Sunday night, after the skies opened up and emptied their contents in a matter of minutes (or so it seemed).  They were AMAZING — worth every second in the oven.  I kind of missed them tonight, when we decided on a simple salad (with fresh lettuce! from our garden! complete with mini slug-like things for extra protein… kidding) because it was just too hot to cook. Not that I have anything against salads, of course.

My recipe is based on this recipe from the Cook and the Chef. I substituted a few things here and there to accommodate my pantry (like the palm sugar, above, in place of yellow rock sugar), and skipped the pork neck in favor of spare ribs, just because we had them. Choose a fatty cut of pork, whatever you do — you need the fat to keep the meat tender as they cook. I’m not sure if this is incredibly authentic, but I did my best with what I had.  They turned out beautifully — tender and delicious, with the perfect sweet / salty balance.

Chinese-style barbecue spare ribs

Serves 2.

Plan ahead — you need to let the meat marinate for 6-12 hours before you start cooking (for ~1.5 hours). You can also use this technique for other cuts of meat. Duck is another traditional option, but I imagine any relatively fatty cut of meat will work pretty well, as long as its flavor doesn’t compete with the marinade ingredients. Lamb, for example, probably wouldn’t be my first choice. I only wish there were leftovers …

• 5-6 fatty spare ribs

Marinade:

• 3/4 c. tamari. The original recipe called for a mix of light and dark soy, but I only had tamari in the house. As excited as I am about the recent renovation of my local Chinese market, I’m not about to rush out there and buy soy sauce just because Simon says I ought to…
• sesame oil (~1 T., but you want to add this last, and give the marinade a taste. It shouldn’t be the primary seasoning in this marinade).
• 1″ piece fresh ginger, finely grated
• 3 cloves garlic, chopped
• 2 spring onions, chopped
• 2 star anise. These things are potent, so be careful if you decide to up the quantity here.
• 1 t. ground cinnamon
• 1/3 c. palm sugar, ground. The original recipe called for yellow rock sugar, pounded, which I didn’t have. The palm sugar was a nice substitute, I think, but I imagine cane sugar, or even a mix of granulated and brown sugar, would work just as well.
• 1 t. five spice powder. I used a store-bought brand, because I have a decent one on hand, but you can make your own.

Glaze:

I include the proportions I used here, but you can probably safely cut this in half.

• 300 g. sugar. Yes, this is a lot of sugar — about 1-3/4 c.
• ~1/4 c. water
• ~1/2 c. tamari

Day 1, or in the morning:

Mix all marinade ingredients in bowl. Coat spare ribs thoroughly, cover with plastic wrap, and marinate in the fridge for 6-12 hours.

Day 2, or dinner time:

Place a large pan full of water in the bottom of your oven. This pan is going to help keep your meat tender, which is key for something like spare ribs, which tend to perform best when cooked low and slow.

Preheat oven to 350°F.  While you’re waiting, drain off most (but not all) the marinade from the pork ribs, and place in a shallow baking pan.  When the water is hot (the oven should be a bit steamy), place the spare ribs in the center of the oven.  Turn the oven down to 325°F.

Cook for 20 minutes. In the meantime, assemble the marinade, by heating the water and sugar, stirring until the sugar is completely dissolved, and then adding in the soy sauce. Careful — this could splatter a bit. Set this aside, off the heat, while the pork continues cooking.

Turn the spare ribs over, and cook for 20 minutes more. Then brush one side of the ribs with the glaze. Cook for 10 minutes more. Turn the ribs again, brush the glaze on, and cook for another 10 minutes. Repeat for two more turns, or until the glaze has formed a glossy, sticky layer over the pork and the meat is cooked through.

Remove from oven and serve after allowing the ribs to cool for five minutes. This goes nicely with rice and simple steamed veggies, topped with a bit of ginger and soy. I did all the sides in the oven, while the meat was cooking, which made this dinner much easier than it could have been (and kept heat sources in my kitchen to a minimum).

Boy, have I been putting this off. I promise, it’s for a good reason. I got back this week to find most of my lab gone. In fact, I was the most senior person left, which means I was in charge of a bunch of new undergrads who asked me questions I couldn’t begin to ask.  What ionization chamber? Where? (Heh… Just kidding). Anyway, this list is about as complete as my photo collection from San Francisco (um — not very), but hey, we only had three days. Our mission was simple: eat as much good food in San Francisco as we could without emptying our wallet. I think we did pretty well, actually.

We’ll start with bakeries, because San Francisco sourdough kicks ass.

Acme Bread Company - Ferry Building Marketplace (Embarcadero + Market Street)

Skip Boudin in favor of Acme without hesitation. This true artisan bakery lives up to its reputation as one of the best bakeries in the West. We loved the rye boule and sourdough baguettes, and if you’re in the mood for breakfast, their cheesy sourdough rolls are amazing.  I only wish we had made it out to their original bakery.

Boudin - Fisherman’s Wharf

Ok, I lied. But not for the bread — even if they do claim to be using the same mother starter from 150 years ago.  We went to their Wharf location, where they bake their breads, and had a look at their $3 “self-guided tour” (translation: 2 room museum, which nevertheless has a history of San Francisco sourdough, and does an ok job of covering the city history as well). The tasting room at the end of the tour wasn’t such a bad way to end.  The only problem? Their sourdough wasn’t sour enough.  The sourdough I grew up on (not so far from San Francisco, really) was actually sour — a perfect counterpoint to a sliver of unsalted butter (of the pastured cultured variety — mmm). Of course, the Con Agra flour bags might have something to do with it … The chocolate raisin bread isn’t a bad consolation prize, though, if you’re starving.

The Italian French Baking Company - 1501 Grant, North Beach

I wish I had tried the macaroon. This bakery has the only wood-fired oven in San Francisco, and is definitely more Italian than French. We got there in the afternoon and there wasn’t much bread left, but the baguette we had was pretty good — light and airy, with a delicious scent.  The pastries looked amazing, but as we were off to dinner, and the old woman out the counter was all business, we exercised a bit of restraint.

On to cafes. Actually, just two, though there are plenty of good ones in San Francisco. Even the ubiquitous Peet’s is excellent (oh, how I wish they would come to New Haven … But that’s another story).

Caffe Trieste - Grant + Vallejo, North Beach

This place is something of a legend, both because it claims to be the first place to serve espresso in the West, and because I remember coming here years ago with my parents. I thought it was so cool then, but the only things I remember clearly from previous visit(s?) were the jukebox and the sex toy / novelty condom machine in the bathroom.  I will say that their cappuccinos are excellent, and it’s a good place to go for a cup of coffee or glass of wine and just people watch after dinner in North Beach.  They seem to be a franchise now, but the North Beach location is the original one.

The French Hotel - 1538 Shadduck, Berkeley

You want the coffee, not the room. Get a double cap in a tall glass, and enjoy it outside with a scone from The Cheeseboard down the street (more on that later).

Ok, now it’s time for lunch. Hungry yet?

Mijita - Ferry Building Marketplace, Embarcadero + Market

Damn — I just realized Chef Tracy Des Jardins — a James Beard award winner, and the chef / owner of this place — was working the cash register when we ordered.  That makes this place so much cooler for some unknown reason … Perhaps because she actually seemed like a nice boss in the few seconds I interacted with her…

But this is about the food, which was awesome and affordable.  There was a reason this place was packed to the gills when we came in.  I got a taco de carnitas, which consisted of two freshly made corn tortillas and some perfectly slow-cooked pork with carrots, jalapeños (I think), onions, and cilantro. James ordered the queso fundido, which was a baked cheese and chorizo dish served with flour tortillas. We also got chips and guac, with a Dos Equis for me and a Mexicoke for James. Everything was delicious, authentic, and worth the amazingly short wait. And really filling, to boot, for a whole $20 total. I think the drinks were the priciest items we ordered. Oh, how I’ve missed good Mexican food …

Chef Jia’s - 925 Kearney St, Chinatown

The $5.25 lunch specials lured us in after a quick tour of Chinatown, and we were not disappointed. The food was excellent for the price. I had spicy prawns with string beans and brown rice, which was tasty, filling, and fresh. This place is definitely worth a look if you’re in the neighborhood and don’t want to spend a lot of money. The place next door (with the nice decor, to the left) is apparently really well known, but more expensive, if you’re into that kind of thing.

North Beach Pizza - 1499 Grant St., North Beach

This is another famous North Beach restaurant, and is worth a trip. When we were in the city, my dad used to take me here for sausage pizzas when I was little. They’re pretty much exactly as I remember them — cheesy and delicious. The sauce is excellent, and the crust is a bit fluffier than, say, a New Haven-style pie, with a slightly sweeter aftertaste. Order one with extra garlic, and then head down to Caffe Trieste for an after dinner drink.

The Cheeseboard Pizza Collective - 1512 Shadduck, Berkeley

This place is like an upscale, friendly version of the soup nazi for pizza. They only make one kind of pie a day — no substitutions — so leave your picky friends (ahem, James) at home, or send them next door for bread and cheese.  We went there twice, and got a corn, chile, feta, onion, cilantro, and lime pizza the first time, which involved freshly sliced tiny limes and a few extra slices for fun. The second time around, we had zucchini, feta, and onion (and probably something else I’m forgetting), which we topped off with a couple of heads of perfectly roasted garlic (we ordered one — they gave us two for one… awesome). The crust is delicious, and if you like the topping ingredients, they’re delicious as well. Oh, the cheese … They use good cheese. I mean, seriously good cheese. But I’ll stop ranting now, and just warn you to bring cash, because that’s all they take.

While we’re on the subject of the Cheeseboard Collective, pay a visit to their bread and cheese shop next door. We had a cheesy sourdough roll, a brioche, and “Wolverines” (sourdough rolls with fruit and nuts). All the pastries were excellent, and there were hoards of people in there proclaiming that their scones were “the best” and grabbing them from their bins like starved students.  Check out the bargain cheese bin for some interesting cheeses. You won’t know what you’re buying, but that’s part of the fun.

Triple Rock Brewery & Alehouse - 1920 Shadduck, Berkeley

This is apparently the oldest original brewpub in the US, according to their website. Take it from me: avoid the food. Stick with the beer. The Stonehenge Stout I tried was excellent. Everything else was pretty much just fuel. I did appreciate the real veggies in the chili, though.

Finally, I have a few more odds and ends to recommend.  First, head over to the Scharffenberger factory in Berkeley for a tour and free chocolate (call ahead for tour times, and plan to spend an hour there). Then, check out a local farmer’s market. BART stations have a local touring guide, with locations, times, and directions for all the farmer’s markets throughout the week. We went the the Civic Center Farmer’s Market, and bought some excellent olive oil and honey (the SF Bay Area Beekeeper’s Blend was so freaking good). Also, don’t forget to check out everything else in the Ferry Building Marketplace. Cowgirl Creamery is right next to Acme Bread Company, and their Red Hawk cheese is delicious.  We stayed out by the airport, so we had a baguette and cheese for dinner on one of the nights, and were perfectly happy.

One last thing: If you want to see photos from the rest of our trip (Sequoia National Park, Yosemite, Big Sur, Redwood National Park, etc), go here. If you want to actually see photos with me in them, email me.

Highway 1 unwinds slowly, precariously, across the state I once called home, inviting only the most daring (or deranged) into the rocky waters of its Northern shores. It’s been decades since I’ve been along this coast, and the first time I’m the one behind the wheel, and oh, it’s so much scarier when you’re the one in charge of navigating its mountainous terrain. But it was good to be home.

I had forgotten how raw the coast of Northern California looks in comparison to Connecticut’s gentle shores. Traversing the whole state is like going through a series of different worlds, as elevation, natural resources, latitude, and human interference transforms the land completely within the span of a few miles. If you’ve never seen it, book a ticket and go. Rent a car and take Highway 1, as long as you’re South of San Francisco. Above SF, you’re in for a bout of car sickness that never ends, as the roads get ever more precarious as you approach its intersection with 101. At the very least, plan to camp along the route; making it to Prairie Creek State Park near Orick from Fresno via SFO in one day was utter madness. Somewhere in there, go inland and check out Yosemite and Sequoia National Park. Yosemite (and the hike / climb up Half Dome) was probably the highlight of my trip, though the redwoods in Prairie Creek State Park managed to make us laugh.

But this is a food blog. I’m not going to go on and on about the trails we took and the places we went. I’ll spare you the experience of seeing an RV, complete with satellite dish, set up in the midst of one of the most gorgeous campgrounds I’ve had the privilege of staying in. I’ll even skip our encounter with the mountain lion (on the trail! Here!) Instead, I’ll tell you how I managed to keep us fed without resorting to bags of chips and MREs, and I’ll try to give you some pointers (so you can learn from my mistakes).

Before we get started, here are a few things to keep in mind:

1. You will miss your oven. Starting a fire without a pilot light or even lighter fluid is not my forte — enough so that getting the fire going gradually became James’s job. We had matches, wood, and whatever we could find around our campsite for tinder: leaves, pine needles, chocolate bar wrappers, etc. So … good luck. And take a few cans of sterno along in case of emergencies (or for morning coffee, which could be considered an emergency depending on your morning disposition).
2. Don’t plan anything too complicated. Roasted vegetables from roadside farm stands are awesome, and we ate a lot of them. Barring that, roasted vegetables of any kind are pretty damn good. Pair them with a high protein grain (quinoa) or any other protein / carb combination I describe below.
3. You don’t need a cooler for anything I suggest here. Cheese and butter are fine without refrigeration for a couple of days, and I stuck to mostly vegetarian meals simply out of necessity. This new one checked bag policy is a bitch, but hey, the whole point of camping is to make do with what you have, right? (Ok, tell that to the souped up RV in the campsite next to you. Especially when they turn on their @#$%@#$ generator at 11 pm).
4. A cast iron pan is a very good thing to bring along. My friend P, who joined us for the last leg of the trip, brought hers along for the trip, and it made dinner so much easier. That said, we did fine with foil and copious amounts of vegetable oil as well.
5. You don’t need a full pantry. A few must haves for me were salt, flour, powdered milk, yeast, oil, baking soda, honey / agave nectar, coffee (and a coffee cone), s’mores ingredients, cheap wine or red wine vinegar (for flavoring vegetables as they roast), onions, potatoes, garlic — lots and lots of garlic, lemons, quinoa, trail mix, powdered chicken broth, and masa. Everything else was based on what looked best at wherever we happened to shop. Fresh fruit and veg, a bit of cheese, and a few cans of sardines (for protein! If you’re repulsed, pick up some canned beans instead) rounded out the campground pantry. Oh, and you don’t need all of this. We were gone for 2 weeks, so pick and choose as you like.
6. Bring measuring spoons, or cook by proportions. Baking soda is the only thing to really worry about, but your food will still taste good if your teaspoon isn’t exactly a teaspoon.
7. Don’t forget the tongs. Seriously. I did, and my fingers regretted it.

Ok, so here are the “recipes” and ideas for meals. I use quotes because I didn’t really measure anything on this trip. I also don’t have pictures of everything, just because it was usually late by the time dinner finished, and my camera is afraid of the dark. Oh, and the challah recipe is finally here, as promised. Scroll to the bottom if that’s all you’re interested in. Finally, I’ll have some recommendations for great places to eat (on a budget) San Francisco in my next post.

Damper

Serves 2-3.

These proportions are based loosely on this recipe.

• 1-1/2 c. flour
• 1-1/2 t. baking soda
• 1 t. salt
• 2-3 t. powdered milk (maybe?)
• 1/4 c. water
• 1/4 c. oil or melted butter
• Juice from 1 lemon

Mix all dry ingredients together, then add the wet ingredients. Knead in the bowl or pot until a dough forms; shape into a ball and wrap loosely in foil. You want room for the bread to rise a bit, but you also want to be able to turn it over in the fire.

Cook until slightly risen and golden brown all over. You will have to keep turning the bread as you cook, so the sides and top cook evenly.

Corn tortillas with roasted potatoes, onions, avocado, and garlic

Serves 2-3

We ate so much roasted garlic on this trip it was absurd. 10-12 heads (yes, heads) in all. It’s that good. It’s a little black in the picture above, but most nights it was golden brown and smoky-sweet.

Make the masa-based tortilla mix from this post. Take your time; you need to let the masa/water mix sit for a while, or the tortillas will not taste good. To cook, either heat your cast iron pan as much as you can over the fire and cook as directed in the recipe, or oil a very large piece of foil and put single layers of tortillas on one side. Form a sort of envelope, sealed on all sides, and put over the fire. Flip regularly and check to keep from burning.

To roast potatoes, take a large piece of foil, coat with oil, make a large envelope, and fill with potatoes, sliced garlic, and ~1 t. salt. Close the envelope and place over the fire. Turn regularly. These are done when the potatoes are soft.

To roast the onions, repeat the procedure described above for the potatoes, but add a glug of red wine or red wine vinegar to the pouch before you seal it.

To roast the garlic, wrap a whole head, skin and all, in foil. Place over the fire and turn regularly. You want the cloves to turn a soft golden-brown.

Assemble your meal tostada-style, and eat with a knife and fork. Finish it off with sliced avocado and a bit of salsa (or roast some tomatillos and scoop out their pulpy interior for a yummy sauce).

Pizza with grilled vegetables and feta

Serves 3-4

Pizza is actually pretty easy to do on a grill. We topped ours with roasted zucchini and feta, or swiss and sardines (don’t ask — that wasn’t my idea!).

Use the proportions I gave for pain a l’ancienne for the dough, with a bit of extra yeast for insurance. Forget chilled water; you can use what you have access to. And forget the overnight rise. Make it just as you’re getting the fire started, and you’ll be good to go by the time you’ve finished making the sauce and roasting the vegetables. And don’t forget to oil the foil you cook it on. You may want to cook the dough a bit on both sides before adding the toppings. We didn’t, and ended up with a slightly doughy surface. The heat isn’t quite as well distributed as your oven’s.

For sauce, take along a can of diced tomatoes with basil. Mix in 1 t. of salt, 2-3 cloves of chopped garlic, and a little bit of red wine, and heat until it starts bubbling.

To grill zucchini, slice evenly and make sure you have lots of oil, some salt, and a bit of red wine in the foil pouch. You can actually cook this without closing the foil pouch; just make sure to turn the zucchini often so they cook evenly. When they’re slightly golden on the edges, you’re good to go.

Pancakes with lemon syrup

Serves 2-3

You won’t even miss the usual egg. If you have baking powder instead of soda, you don’t need the lemon in the batter. That’s just to provide the acid needed to make the baking soda work.

• 1-1/2 c. flour
• 1-1/2 t. baking soda
• 2 t. powdered milk
• juice from 2 lemons
• 1 t. salt
• enough water to form a batter
• honey or agave nectar, to taste, plus 1 c. hot water
• oil, for cooking

Heat oil in a cast iron pan or metal plate over the fire (or sterno / camp stove / barbecue — all will work). Mix all dry ingredients together. Add juice from 1 lemon, a glug of honey or agave nectar, and water. Mix until all the flower lumps are gone. Cook pancakes as you normally would, though I’d keep them small so they cook quickly. If you’re cooking on a metal plate, use lots of oil. They will stick. Keep replenishing it as you go.

For syrup, mix the remaining lemon juice, water, and honey / agave nectar together. Dip your cooked pancakes in the syrup mix.

Quinoa stew

This is more of a formula than a recipe. In your hot cast iron (or whatever cooking vessel you have available), throw in quinoa, a bit of powdered chicken broth, water, salt, some wine, sliced onions, garlic, and vegetables of your choice. Cook until the quinoa and vegetables are soft; you may need to add some more liquid (wine or water) as you go.

More ideas

Oatmeal with a bit of trail mix and honey thrown in is a nice breakfast.

If you have access to a nice can of stewed cherry tomatoes, mix those with cubed, leftover damper, a bit of salt, and three or four cloves of sliced garlic. Serve with grilled cheese.

Carrots are awesome when you roast them with a bit of red wine and garlic.

Cut the stem out of a squash and scoop the seeds out (as if you were carving a pumpkin). Stuff with peeled garlic and a bit of wine; replace stem piece, and throw in the fire. Turn regularly, and remove when the inner flesh of the squash is soft. Scoop out to serve. You now have your own garlic-flavored roasted squash.

And the obvious:

S’mores! Use a stick as a skewer, for a more authentic feel. Just don’t eat the bark.

And now, for the challah recipe, which is definitely not for camping:

Whole Wheat Challah

Makes 1 large or 2 small loaves

From Peter Reinhart’s Whole Grain Breads. This is probably a bit dense for me, because I really wanted light, fluffy challah. But then again, it’s my fault for expecting 100% whole wheat bread to be light and fluffy. It’s good anyway.

This recipe takes two days. Make the soaker and the biga on Day 1, and then make the dough and bake on Day 2. Or make the soaker on Day 1, realize you forgot the biga on Day 2, fridge the soaker, make the biga, and finally get around to the final dough on Day 3. I am such an airhead sometimes.

Soaker

• 1-3/4 c. (8 oz.) whole wheat flour (I used durum)
• 1/2 t. (0.14 oz.) salt
• 3/4 c. (6 oz.) water

Mix all ingredients together until flour is fully hydrated. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit for 12-24 hours.

Biga

• 1-3/4 c. (8 oz.) whole wheat flour
• 1/4 t. (0.03 oz) instant yeast
• 1/2 c. (4 oz.) water
• 2 T. vegetable oil
• 1 large egg, beaten gently
• 4 egg yolks (use the whites to make pavlova)

Mix all ingredients together. Knead for a couple of minutes, or until the dough feels a bit sticky and the flour is fully hydrated. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight (up to 3 days).

Dough

Remove biga from the fridge 2 hours before making the dough.

• Biga
• Soaker
• 7 T. (2 oz.) whole wheat flour
• 5/8 t. (0.18 oz.) salt
• 2-1/4 t. (0.25 oz) instant yeast
• 1-1/2 T. (1 oz.) agave nectar (honey is fine)
• 2 T. (1 oz.) vegetable oil
• 1 egg, beaten with 1 T. water (for egg wash)
• poppy or sesame seeds for topping, if you like. I used black sesame seeds.

Break biga and soaker up into chunks, and transfer to a large mixing bowl. Add flour, salt, yeast, agave nectar, and vegetable oil. Stir until the ingredients are well combined and the dough is soft and a little sticky. If you need to adjust the flour or water content at this point, go for it. If it’s really sticky, add flour. If it’s not sticky at all, add a small amount of water (1 t. at a time). Knead for 3-4 minutes on a lightly floured surface. When it’s ready to rise, it’ll feel tacky and soft.

Form the dough into a ball and let rest for 5 minutes. Go find a clean, large bowl, and coat its surface lightly with oil.

Knead the dough for 1 minute more. Transfer the dough ball into the oiled bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise for 45-60 minutes, or until the dough is 1-1/2 times its starting volume.

Shape the loaf. I would tell you how to do the 6-braid challah, but I failed miserably, so here’s a link that might help.

Place the braided loaf on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper. Brush the surface with the egg wash, and cover loosely with plastic wrap. Let rise for another 30 minutes. Brush again with egg wash, cover again, and preheat the oven to 400°F. When the oven’s preheated and 15 minutes have passed, remove the plastic wrap, and place the challah in the oven. Reduce the heat to 325°F. Bake for 20 minutes, rotate the loaf, and bake for 20 minutes. If the bread’s uneven, rotate again. If not, leave it, and bake for 10-15 minutes, or until the loaf is a golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom.

Let cool on a cooling rack. Enjoy!

Oh, and one note — if you go for the smaller loaf option, increase the oven temp. by 25°F.

I had all sorts of grand plans for this post. A yummy challah recipe, a little story, and a few things to tide you over until I return (or at the very least, have computer access again). But here it is, 5 hours before I leave, and I’m just finishing dinner. So I’m afraid I’m just going to leave you with a photo and a promise. We’re going hiking and camping in California, and will come back with all sorts of tips for roughing it (and eating well while you’re at it). Oh yah, and pictures of the beach. Um … and the challah recipe, which is, truth be told, not quite what I pictured when I started making the recipe. But it was yummy nonetheless.

So, see you at the start of June!