sriracha tofu and broccolini with coconut rice

For some reason, I forgot to make this for a year or two.

I'm not sure why, because once I discovered it again – a few months ago – I quickly remembered that it's one of my favourite weeknight dinners.

In fact, it's the kind of quick weeknight dinner that is so good and so interesting that we really should make it for guests on a weekend. I'd better get on that.

Anyway, I should probably tell you more about it.

First, do you like coconut rice? I love coconut rice. It has that extra bit of richness from the coconut milk and the saltiness is just right here to balance it.

But the best part is how exciting the tofu is. I know you might not believe me when I describe tofu as exciting, but it's true. You'll have to make it to find out. The tofu is tossed with a simple mixture of sriracha and salt but somehow it becomes a new tasty thing with just a bit of chew.

The original recipe called for shrimp but since I can never find affordable ethical shrimp at the grocery store, I put in the tofu. Cheap, and possibly even better. (I've never tried the shrimp.)

Oh, and the broccolini. Or broccolette. Or finely-chopped and peeled regular broccoli. Whatever you call it, it picks up the sriracha and coconut milk and becomes the perfect crunchy bite next to the soft tofu.

Please, just make it. And don't forget about it.

One year ago: peanut sesame noodles
Two years ago: salted butter break-up cookies
Three years ago: chocolate peanut butter mice with licorice tails


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sriracha tofu and broccolini with coconut rice
adapted from gourmet
serves 4 – 5 

1 1/2 c. long-grain white rice*
1 1/2 c. water
1 tsp. sugar
1 c. + 1/2 c. coconut milk, well-stirred
3/4 tsp. + 3/4 tsp. salt
1 lb (454 g.) broccolini or broccolette**
1 block firm tofu, cut into bite-sized cubes
2 1/2 tbsp. sriracha sauce
2 tsp. cornstarch
1/4 c. + 1/4 c. chicken broth
1 tbsp. vegetable, canola or grapeseed oil

Rinse the rice under cold water and drain well. Pour into a medium-sized sauce pan with a heavy bottom. Add 1 1/2 cups water, sugar, 1 cup coconut milk and 3/4 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and cover. Cook for 20 minutes, then take it off the heat and let it stand for 5 minutes, still covered.

While the rice is cooking, peel the broccolini stalks and cut the whole thing into 1-inch lengths. Set aside.

In another bowl, toss the tofu with the with the sriracha and the remaining 3/4 teaspoon of salt. Set aside.

In a smaller bowl, stir the cornstarch, 1/4 cup chicken broth,  and 1/2 cup coconut milk until the cornstarch dissolves.

Heat a big heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven over high heat. Add oil. Add broccolini and fry until it turns bright-green. Stir in the remaining 1/4 cup chicken broth. Once the liquid has evaporated (about 3 minutes), add the dressed tofu. Stir often and cook for 2 minutes. Stir the cornstarch mixture again and add it to the broccolini and tofu. Stir until the sauce is slightly thickened, about 3 minutes.

Fluff the rice and serve it with the broccolini mixture. Eat!


* We like Jasmine or Basmati rice 
** You could also use regular broccoli, stalks peeled and cut more finely

roasted rhubarb with wine and vanilla

In Edmonton this weekend, our rhubarb out in the garden hasn't unfurled itself yet. Although at least it's not covered by snow.

In Courtenay last weekend, my dad's rhubarb out in the garden was growing pink, squat stalks. It was definitely not covered by snow.

So, of course, Dad sent us home with a bag of them – not to mention the kale and fresh herbs that were tucked around it.

(In case you were wondering, I've gone through airport security twice now with bags of rhubarb and kale. Security staff don't bat an eye. Maybe they're common plants to fly off the Island?)

The next day at home in snowy Edmonton, I decided to try roasting the rhubarb. I followed Orangette's simple recipe with wine and vanilla, and soon had perfectly tender rhubarb that held its shape beautifully – if you were careful spooning it out.

I added a little yogourt and some of the bright-pink syrup pooled in the bottom of the baking dish, and had a lovely birthday snack. The wine and vanilla are just haunting flavours, not overpowering, which means the roasted rhubarb is also good with breakfast.

Now that I've used all of my Courtenay supply, I'm anxiously watching mine in the garden here. When it does unfurl and shoot up, I'll be ready.

one year ago: orange jelly with chantilly cream
two years ago: brigadeiros
three years ago: spiced red lentil stew with greens and lemon


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roasted rhubarb with wine and vanilla
slightly adapted from orangette, who was inspired by canal house cooking

1 lb. (454 g.) rhubarb, cut into lengths about 2 – 3 inches long
1/4 c. white or red wine
1/4 c. sugar
1 tsp. vanilla

Get out a heavy baking dish with high sides, such as a Dutch oven or Corningware casserole dish. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

In a medium bowl, toss the rhubarb with the wine, sugar and vanilla. Line the rhubarb up like soldiers in the baking dish and put in the oven.

After 15 minutes, carefully stir the rhubarb so it all gets cooked.

After 15 more minutes, check on the rhubarb. It should look intact but actually be tender and ready to eat. Serve with a bit of the syrup that's pooled in the bottom of the dish.

gluten-free sandwich bread

Hot out of the oven

This one's for the Celiacs who have resigned themselves to paying seven dollars for a very small loaf of almost-edible bread at the grocery store. This is better.

I have made this recipe five times now. Aside from the time when I forgot the xanthan gum – which is key – they have all turned into the most amazing loaves of gluten-free bread.

Happily rising

The Celiac husband has declared it his favourite and keeps asking when I'm making more.

Cooling

My cousin Shannon, also a Celiac, had a slice for breakfast and right away asked me where I bought it. I took that as a real compliment because gluten-free bakers know how hard it is to make a really good gluten-free bread at home.

Scott also reports that this makes a fine sandwich bread in his lunch. This may not be news to the rest of the world, but the Celiacs know very few gluten-free breads are edible unless they're toasted.

Sliced and ready for living the good life in the freezer

A big thanks to the always-reliable Canadian Living for the original recipe. I tinkered with the flours to add millet and oat flour in place of some of the brown rice flour – I think this gives it a nicer texture and stays away from the sandiness of too much brown rice flour. I also like slipping more whole grains in wherever I can.

Celiacs, enjoy!

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gluten-free sandwich bread
adapted from canadian living
bakes 2 loaves

250 g. (2 c.) tapioca starch
125 g. (1 c.) brown rice flour
63 g. (1/2 c. + 2 tbsp. + 2 tsp.) gluten-free oat flour*
63 g. (1/2 c. + 1 tbsp.) millet flour
270 g. (1 1/2 c.) potato starch
38 g. (6 tbsp.) ground flax meal
4 tsp. quick-rising (instant) dry yeast
4 tsp. xanthan gum
1 1/2 tsp. salt
672 g. (2 2/3 c.) milk, warmed
4 eggs (224 g.)
37 g. (2 tbsp.) liquid honey
16 g. (4 tsp.) olive oil
2 tsp. cider vinegar

Grease two non-stick loaf pans with a neutral-tasting oil. Set aside.

Get out a large bowl. Whisk together the tapioca starch, brown rice flour, oat flour, millet flour, potato starch, ground flax meal, yeast, xanthan gum and salt. Set aside.

In another bowl, whisk together the milk, eggs, honey, olive oil and cider vinegar. Stir the dry ingredients into the liquid. Mix well.

Pour the batter into the waiting loaf pans and smooth the tops a bit. Let rise in a draft-free place for about an hour, until the tops have risen just above the loaf pans. I like to put the pans in the microwave with a mug of just-boiled water to steam it up. If you leave them on the counter, make sure you cover them with lightly-greased plastic wrap so they aren't susceptible to drafts.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (180 degrees Celcius) and bake for about 40 to 45 minutes. When they're done, the tops will be golden brown and a cake tester will come out clean. If you have a thermometer, the inside of the bread will measure 205 degrees Fahrenheit.

Let cool a bit, then transfer to racks to fully cool. Slice and eat. If you will be keeping it longer than 24 hours, slice, double-bag and freeze. Toast slices as you need them.


* I just whirl my gluten-free oats in the food processor until they're fairly fine and use that as oat flour. 
 

kimchi soup

You might not dream about soft tofu bobbing around in your soup bowl.

But I do.

Somehow, soft tofu is the perfect thing in this hot Korean soup. There's cabbage and rich spicy broth and pieces of meat floating around . . . but it's the silky-soft tofu cubes that make the best spoonfuls.

We discovered this soup at our favourite Korean restaurant in Jasper a couple years ago. Over the Christmas holiday, I knew it was time to learn how to make it myself.

I love the idea of fermenting things – that the air has little organisms that can keep food instead of spoiling it – so of course I had to make the kimchi base myself. (You don't have to. But it sure is a lot of fun.)

After a week of sitting on the counter in jars, my kimchi was bubbling away and smelled like an exotic fermented witches' brew. It was ready for soup.

Kimchi goes into the fridge after sitting on the counter for a week

You'll see the whole recipe below – thank you, New York Times – but the very best part is cutting the soft tofu into big wobbly cubes. They slide in just before serving. We liked our bowls of soup with lots of fresh green onion on top and a mound of Japanese rice on the side to soak up the broth.

This was our lunch almost every day between Christmas and New Year's. Sitting at our dining room table with the watery sunlight streaming in and a pot of rooibos tea on the counter, it was a very fine lunch indeed.

one year ago: peppermint lavender balm and we eat well in edmonton
two years ago: jane's pecan puffs and chipotle and rosemary spiced nuts
three years ago: carrot and fennel soup


kimchi soup
adapted from the new york times
serves 6 – 8

1 lb. (454 g.) pork rib roast or pork shoulder, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tbsp. fresh ginger, grated
2 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. sesame oil
1 tsp. fish sauce
2 tbsp. butter
1 medium onion, cut in half, sliced lengthwise and cut in half again
2 c. kimchi, squeezed dry and chopped*
1 tbsp. Korean red pepper flakes**
1 – 2 c. kimchi juice
8 c. chicken or beef broth
8 oz. (222 g.) soft or silken tofu, cut in large cubes
8 green onions, chopped, for garnish
Japanese rice, for serving (optional)

Get a bowl out and toss the pork with garlic, ginger, soy sauce, sesame oil and fish sauce. Marinate for 10 minutes.

Put a heavy-bottomed soup pot on medium heat. Melt the butter, then add the pork mixture. Cook gently for 5 minutes. Stir onion in and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Turn the heat up to medium high and add the kimchi and red pepper flakes. Simmer for 2 minutes.

Pour kimchi juice and broth in. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a brisk simmer and cook 20 minutes. Taste the broth and adjust the seasoning if you need to.

Right before serving, add the tofu and stir gently. When the tofu is hot, ladle into bowls and garnish generously with green onion. If you like, serve alongside Japanese rice.

* You can buy the kimchi or make your own. Here's the recipe I used.
** Buy red pepper flakes at a Korean grocery store or in the Asian section of a regular grocery store. They are not hot (spicy).

wish list

December, for me, is bundling up in the dark and following little paper lanterns through the Japanese garden to find hot apple cider and carolers huddled around the fire pit.

It's a choir concert in a 100-year-old Anglican church with my big coat just over my shoulders.

It's taking out my favourite wooden reindeer and setting it on the mantel.

It's eating as many treats as possible that feature marzipan.

And it's thinking about those I love and what they might like for Christmas. Maybe, a soft white camisole from Germany for a friend or the present that Scott always wants: wool socks.

What are your favourite things to give and receive at Christmas?

Here are a few of mine. A good number of the companies are based in Edmonton (because this city makes a lot of wonderful things), but they're almost all available online.

Beautiful, beautiful wooden lamps handmade in a little studio in South Carolina. Watch this New York Times video for inspiration.

Earrings from Prairie Smoke Glassworks. I have a little pair that are white glass studs with tiny blue squares and they're one of my favourite things. I found them at Tix on the Square in Edmonton, which sells a lot of local artists' work.

This belt solves so many problems: it lies flat against my jeans and is ethically made.

You might shop local for groceries, but have you thought about where your underwear comes from? I've just discovered this little Toronto company and they're fantastic – and fun.

A pure white beeswax candle, or a lavendar honey soap from Meadow Sweet Honey. (Find them at the Old Strathcona Farmers' Market.)

Passion paradou. Raspberry noir. Apricot caramel. Sometimes, I think that all I really want for Christmas is one huge box of these chocolates. They're handmade with a short shelf-life, so go to the shops in Calgary and Edmonton.

It still surprises me that aprons wear out. There seem to be a lot of nice denim ones around lately. I especially like the Japanese style that crosses at the back . . . but my favourite seller on Etsy stopped making them. Seen any other good ones?

The Swedish coffee and baking book, Fika. Full of simple line drawings and ideas for the most important snack of the day.

Everyone likes thinking about houses and how we make them into homes. The Not So Big House is my favourite book about this.

Finally: a splurge. This looks like a gorgeous leather bag made by Edmonton shoe company Poppy Barley. Can you imagine how lovely it would be in brown?

one year ago: shortbread peppermint pattie cookies
two years ago: annie's sun-dried tomato dip
three years ago: cheese ball!

granola no. 3

It appears that certain food bloggers have a problem with posting granola recipes.

And by problem, I mean we just can't stop ourselves.

Back in January 2011, I brought you Naomi's granola, full of dried blueberries and cranberries with a whiff of almond.

Then last November, I had to tell you about Megan Gordon's genius hazelnut cacao nib granola.

You probably thought that was enough.

But no. I can't stop. I eat granola almost every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday morning. I like a bit of variety in my life.

Although, the funny thing is that this granola is quite plain, and that's what keeps me coming back to it. It's the perfect combination of lightly toasted oats and nuts and it's not very sweet, which I find is a good thing these dark mornings when I sip my black tea desperately and am barely awake enough to make eye contact with the husband across the table.

It's plain, easy-going and perfect for most mornings. I first made it last February, although Molly posted it almost a year earlier. I've made a few adjustments to proportions – I like more oats, less coconut and fewer nuts – but the essence is the same.

Molly calls it "Granola No. 5" because it's the fifth granola recipe she's posted. After careful consideration, I'm calling my version "Granola No. 3." You can do the math.

one year ago: hazelnut cacao nib granola
two years ago: japan in pictures and japan in food
three years ago: potato chip cookies

granola no. 3
adapted from orangette's granola no. 5
bakes a lot of granola, maybe 12 cups

750 g. (about 7 1/2 c.) rolled oats*
65 g. (about 1 1/4 c.) coconut flakes or chips
300 g. (about 2 – 3 c.) nuts,** chopped
2 tsp. Diamond kosher salt (or 1 tsp. regular salt)
240 ml (1 c.) maple syrup
160 ml (2/3 c.) olive oil

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Line one large or two regular baking sheets with parchment paper.

Get out your biggest bowl and mix the oats, coconut, nuts and salt together well. Add the maple syrup and olive oil, and stir until everything is coated. Spread it evenly onto the baking sheet(s).

Bake for 20 minutes. Take it out and stir carefully. Bake for another 15 minutes. Stir and decide if it's done enough for you. You'll probably want to bake it for another 5 or 10 minutes. Look for the coconut and nuts to toast, and the oats to be lightly golden brown. (Remember, it will bake and set a bit more as it cools.)

Let cool completely on a rack. Store it in an airtight container on the counter. Molly says that if you want to keep it longer than a couple weeks, you could freeze some of it – but we've never needed to.

* If you're making this for a Celiac, make sure you use oats that are labelled "wheat-free" or "gluten-free."
** I like a combination of hazelnuts and walnuts and often throw some almonds in. You could also use some seeds here. I find seeds are often too adventurous in the morning.

ginger meringues

I grew up with the German Kaffee time – usually around 4 o'clock on a weekend or summer afternoon. If the weather was good, we'd get out a blanket and sit under the cherry tree out front. The adults would drink coffee and everyone would eat slices of cake.

It's a good tradition, and I follow it pretty religiously when we visit Germany and Austria. Even at home in Canada, we often have coffee, tea or hot chocolate around that time on weekend afternoons.

So when I heard about a new book called Fika – about the Swedish coffee time – I had to check it out of the library. It's a bewitching little book full of lovely illustrations . . . reminding me yet again how the right illustration can say so much more than a photograph.

I've got my eye on quite a few recipes, including oat crisp chocolate sandwich cookies, hazelnut coffee cake, chocolate buttercream almond rounds, and a sticky chocolate cake with poppyseeds (!) on top.

But last weekend, Scott brought orange sorbet home from the grocery store, and I remembered the ginger meringues. Almost before he put the groceries away, I was in my corner, wiping the stainless-steel mixing bowl with a slice of lemon and separating eggs.

The meringues were incredibly easy to make and their beauty – whipped clouds with tiny flecks of ginger if you looked hard – was so satisfying.

We ate them that night with the sorbet, and the ginger and orange soon became good friends. But the next day, we had them as part of a lazy Sunday afternoon with coffee and tea. Of course, they were perfect for fika or Kaffee.

P.S. If Fika showed up in my stocking this Christmas, that would be one smart Santa. Just sayin'.


one year ago: chard salad with feta and capers 
two years ago: three-nuts chocolate torte
three years ago: homemade ricotta cheese

ginger meringues
fika by anna brones and johanna kindvall
bakes 15 large or 30 small

slice of lemon
3 egg whites, at room temperature
3/4 c. (148 g., 5.25 oz.) white sugar or natural cane sugar
1 tsp. ginger, grated

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees Fahrenheit (95 degrees Celsius). Take out one very big or two regular cookie sheets and line with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

If you have a stainless-steel bowl – or a regular grease-free bowl – wipe it with the lemon. Discard the lemon. Beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks, about 2 minutes. Slowly add the sugar and keep beating until it's glossy and you see hard peaks. Beat in the ginger.

Use a tablespoon to plop the meringue batter onto the cookie sheet. About 1 tablespoon makes a small meringue and about 2 tablespoons make a large meringue.

Bake 1 1/2 hours for small and 2 hours for large. They should feel crisp on the outside and sound hollow when they're done. Leave them in the oven to cool down after you turn the oven off.

Store in an airtight container for a few weeks.

eating squash pasta and talking over dinner

A couple weeks ago, I read this article by Sherry Turkle in the New York Times.

It talked about solitude and conversation and phones.

For me, it was exactly just right.

My friends know I'm already pretty old-fashioned: I refuse to text and I just joined Facebook a few months ago – for this blog.

Mostly, I don't like being interrupted. I like concentrating and listening and being listened to. And I think you can't do that very well with a phone (or two) between you.

But I do see that everywhere around me, everything is changing.

At work, students walk across campus, heads down, reading and typing. I walk into an office to ask something and the person across from me feels the pull of the keyboard and screen to keep typing and scanning while I talk. A good friend has her phone on the table, upside down, while we're meeting other friends for dinner.

In the name of efficiency – in the name of distraction – we can't concentrate on each other.

This article also looked at solitude and I suddenly realized I've been interrupting my solitude just as much. When did it become wrong to stand in a line up and look around, instead of looking down at a phone? Why do I need to check my phone on the bus or at home in the evening?

I dearly love my solitude and if I want to accomplish something more than I am right now, interrupting myself won't help. It'll just be satisfying for those 10 seconds when I see there's a new message.

I am not missing anything.

For me, at least, it's time to make very deliberate decisions about when to turn the phone off. As a rough rule of thumb, let's say more often than not.

I made this new squash and pasta dish from Luisa around the same time I read the article.

I roasted the squash with Korean red pepper flakes and olive oil, and caramelized the onions slowly in apple cider vinegar and maple syrup. Mashed together and mixed with a bit of pasta water, scooped next to corn on the cob, and showered in parmesan, it was a perfect fall meal – with not a phone in sight.

one year ago: fresh plum kuchen
two years ago: leek gratin
three years ago: beet salad with honey-horseradish dressing

squash pasta
slightly adapted from The Wednesday Chef and The New York Times

2 1/2 – 3 lb. orange squash, such as butternut, peeled, seeded and cut into small pieces (about 1/8 – 1/4 inch thick)
3 tbsp. + 3 tbsp. olive oil
1/2 teaspon Korean red pepper flakes or dried chile flakes
3 tsp. kosher salt (1 1/2 tsp. regular salt)
1 onion, peeled and thinly sliced
1/4 c. apple cider vinegar
1/4 c. maple syrup
a good amount of parmesan or asiago, grated, to top
optional: scoop out the squash seeds, toss them with olive oil and salt and roast them in a small pan while you're roasting the squash flesh.

1. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Take out a cookie sheet and line it with parchment paper. Stir the squash, 3 tablespoons olive oil, chile flakes and 2 teaspoons kosher salt in a bowl. Spread onto the prepared pan, and cook, stirring once, about 15 minutes – until it's tender and a bit coloured. (You may wish to also roast the squash seeds at this point.) Take out of the oven.

2. In the meantime, set a heavy pot over medium-high heat and heat the other 3 tablespoons of olive oil. Stir in the onions and remaining teaspoon of salt. Stir often, and cook until the onions are very soft and getting darker, about 10 – 15 minutes. Then pour in the vinegar and syrup and reduce the heat to medium-low. Cook until it gets almost syrupy and the onions break down, a bit like a jam.

3. Put the squash and onions in a bowl and use a fork to mash them together. Taste for seasoning and add more salt and pepper if necessary.

4. Boil your pasta – preferably penne or rigatoni – in lightly salted water until al dente. Near the end, set aside 1 – 2 cups of the starchy pasta cooking water. Strain the pasta and then stir the squash-onion mixture in, also using some (or all) of the reserved pasta water to thin it. Serve with grated parmesan to go on top, and roasted seeds, if you made them.