 Good thing I made this last week. Goodbye, chocolate pie. Hello, My Fitness Pal. I’m tracking my calories, which is almost impossible not to do without obsessing. And feeling hungry every second of the day. Apparently, 1400 calories a day should be enough for me. It’s mind-blowing to have only 400 calories left to spend on dinner after having been moderate and mindful all day long. Any tips out there for a first-time calorie-counter?
I am grateful for my body and have a good relationship with it. I’ve talked several times here before about exercise, healthy eating, and how it’s possible to still be food-obsessed at the same time. But I’m realizing all over again is that this mindfulness business isn’t something I can do for a few months and then back off. It never ends!
My Fitness Pal (I love to hate that name) tells me that exercise gives me more calories to spend. That’s incentive. Big time. A two-hour walk might earn me a small piece of this pie. And I could listen to food podcasts along the way, which isn’t a half-bad proposition.
I tore this recipe out of Better Homes and Gardens at the gym last week. I’ve stopped trying to mute the deafening shredding sound. No one around me seems to mind. They’re too busy watching The Food Network. And have you noticed? Even magazines like Better Homes and Gardens often have good or interesting recipes these days. This is a case where a rising tide really does lift all boats. Our collective food consciousness has evolved even if our practice hasn’t. That’s a topic for another day. In the meantime, I’m wild about this concoction, and it will give Priya more uses for all that chocolate she’s been buying. We won’t let My Fitness Pal in on this little secret.
Rustic Chocolate Pie
Adapted from Better Homes and Gardens. I considered using one of my own crust recipes, but ended up with this one. It gave me zero problems and turned out beautifully flaky and was just the right size for the amount of filling. I used Guittard 60% chocolate–don’t use the super super dark stuff, as it doesn’t turn out as smooth. These days, I’m into the Ghiradelli 60% chips, too. Available at almost all grocery stores, affordable, and melt easily. This really does serve 10-12 people, as you only need a small slice (And don’t share any with My Fitness Pal. Though well-intentioned, she’s kind of a *&*$# ).
3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
5 Tbsp. cold unsalted butter
1-1/2 to 2 Tbsp. cold water
6 oz. bittersweet or semisweet chocolate (not to exceed 62 percent cacao), coarsely chopped
2 egg whites, at room temperature
1/8 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
3/4 cup chopped lightly toasted pecans or walnuts + more for the top
Chocolate shavings (optional)
To make crust, in bowl thoroughly mix flour and 1/4 tsp. salt. Cut butter in chunks and add to bowl. With two knives, pastry blender, or food processor, cut butter into flour, tossing to coat with flour until largest pieces are size of pine nuts and remaining resemble coarse bread crumbs. Drizzle 2-3 Tbsp. cold water over flour mixture while tossing and mixing, until just moist enough to hold together when pressed. Add remaining water if needed. Turn out on plastic wrap. Gather into flank disk, pressing in any loose pieces. Wrap in plastic; refrigerate 30 minutes or up to 3 days.
Position rack in lower third of oven. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. If your dough has been in the fridge a long time, Let it stand 30 minutes at room temperature, or until pliable enough to roll without cracking. On lightly floured surface, roll dough to 14×9-inch oval, about 1/8 inch thick, rotating and dusting with flour to prevent sticking. Brush excess flour from dough; fold in half to transfer to a piece of parchment slightly larger than dough. Unfold dough. Loosely fold and roll edge, without pressing, to form rimmed crust. Place parchment with pastry on baking sheet. Bake 10 to 12 minutes, or until light golden brown (crust edge will be a little raw inside).
Meanwhile for filling, melt chocolate in microwave on 50 percent power (medium) about 2 minutes. Stir frequently until chocolate is almost completely melted. Remove from microwave. Stir until melted; set aside.
In bowl beat egg whites with cream of tartar and vanilla until soft peaks form. Gradually add sugar and 1/8 tsp. salt. Beat until whites are stiff but not dry. Pour pecans and melted chocolate over whites; fold with spatula until batter is uniform color.
Remove crust from oven. Reduce oven to 350 degrees F. Dollop filling on crust. Spread to 1/2 inch thick. Bake 10 minutes, or until surface looks dry and slightly cracked (fudgy inside). Cool on baking sheet on rack. Serve warm or cool. Cover and refrigerate after 2 hours or up to 24 hours. To serve, sprinkle toasted walnuts and chocolate shavings. Makes 10 servings.
 When we first started at our church, Pastor Angela asked if I wanted to help with Sunday School. I immediately said “no.” Give me a room full of adults, and I know just what to do. Kids? Forget it. They need crafts and snacks. Most terrifyingly, they see right through you and how you’d rather be lying in bed with magazines than listening to their thoughts about God.
So I’ve been surprised at how much I’ve been enjoying teaching Wyatt’s little 6-8 year-old Sunday school class. We light a candle when they first come in, and I ask them how their week was. They are always bursting with news. Irene went to her Grandma’s house. Nora got in a fight with her brother, and Annie got a new stuffed animal for Valentine’s Day. Wyatt eagerly pumped is hand in the air, dying for me to call on him. His news: ”My mom got a new iPhone.”
It’s true. Wyatt and Yancey have been making fun of my obsessed ineptness all weekend. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I truly think it was due to iPhone Excitement. I got up at midnight and went back to bed at 2:00. I prepped for Wyatt’s class; cleaned the kitchen; started these muffins; and yes–browsed the App Store.
The Sunday School curriculum says things like , “Supplies needed for February 21: 6 indsustrial-strength crab pots; bandsaw; live bait; 12 yards of baling wire; and 400 rounded popsicle sticks.” Good Lord. I’m not that committed to my child’s learning. So last night at 1:00 a.m., cutting 20 footprints out of construction paper (don’t ask), I was surprised to feel so content. The house was quiet, my newborn iPhone was happily sleeping, and I felt for a moment how precious those six kids were that would be coming to my class in the morning. Sunday School isn’t about morals or getting indoctrinated. If you’re in my class at my church, it’s about growing up together, about looking past the answers to the amazing questions that children will ask if they’re not surrounded by know-it-alls.
And it’s about muffins. Last time, I scrounged a snack last-minute–a bag of tangerines and oatmeal raisin granola bars.Wyatt hates that variety, and was mortified we didn’t have chocolate chip ones to bring. Remember that feeling? That you’re the kid without the cool snacks? He felt much better about the snack situation this morning, helping pass them out and distribute seconds. I didn’t tell them about the oat bran and zucchini.
Sunday School Muffins
These are a riff on Morning Glory Muffins. I guess I’ve been Muffin Queen lately. I suppose there are worse things to be.
2 cups flour
1/4 c. oat bran
2 ts. baking soda
2 ts. cinnamon
1 ts. salt
1 c. sugar
1/4 c. brown sugar
4 large carrots, peeled and coarsely grated
1 medium zucchini, coarsely grated
1 c. vegetable oil
3 eggs
Preheat oven to 350 and butter 15 muffin cups or line with cupcake liners.
Mix dry ingredient together in medium bowl and set aside.
In large bowl, combine grated carrots and zucchini. Add flour mixture and mix with your hands to coat. Add vegetable oil and eggs, stirring to combine.
Fill muffin cups to the top, and bake for about 25 minutes, until an inserted toothpick comes out clean and tops spring back a bit. Let cool for 5 minutes in pan, then remove.
 I’m back. A week away from here is a long time for me.
I haven’t gone on strike or decided this blog sucks too much of my time (though, if I were sane, I would certainly come to that conclusion). Rather, I’ve been away with my family at our friend’s cabin in LaConner. We slept in; ate cheese and crackers for most our meals; spent hours on the beach; played games; had friends and family down. Just one work phone call for me, no internet, no food blogging or facebooking. As it turns out, that’s just what the doctor ordered.
I’m an extrovert (surprise). I’ve come to the conclusion that Western culture favors extroverts–promotes them, humors them, values the way they “share everything” with everyone. So it’s easy for extroverts to come out thinking they’re pretty darn engaging. I’ll never not be an extrovert, but I needed some time away from all the input and output in my life, some time to remember who I am apart from postings, comments, feedback, calendars, some time to engage with this self that’s gotten distracted by the chatter.
You’ll notice I’m back with the sharing. Please. I haven’t gone that far. And I’m going to share this with you, this lovely quote from the mystic Diadochus of Photiki. It’s cropped up many times in my life:
When the door of the steambath is continually left open, the heat inside rapidly escapes through it; likewise the soul, in its desire to say many things, dissipates the remembrance of God through the door of speech, even though everything it says may be good…Timely silence, then, is precious, for it is nothing less than the mother of the wisest thoughts.
I had a lot of time-stopping moments this week– podcasts, books, poems, conversations, a concert, lying in bed with Yancey in the morning and listening to the kids pouring themselves cereal. I could write a whole post on each of them, but I’m not going to. I missed you, but I want to keep the warmth in for awhile longer. Humor me, will you? You know those extroverts–they’re high maintenance, and there will be plenty of time to listen to them when they can’t abide the silence any longer.
 Remember yesterday when I said there wouldn’t be any schmaltzy Valentine posts? That was before I had a day off. And time to make muffins.
My Mom used to make these “French Breakfast Muffins” for special occasions growing up. They were from a Junior League cookbook of hers. I can still see that recipe on the page–green font, butter stains around the edges. And there were lots of special occasion breakfasts in our house. Birthdays, of course, but also St. Patrick’s and Valentines Day, first day of school, May Day. She is a master ambiance creator. I don’t share that talent, but at least I clear the clutter off the table (you’re welcome, Yancey).
This morning when Yancey got off shift, the kids had been waiting by the door for an hour, anxious to open their gifts. Wyatt got a graphic novel, and Loretta, a ladybug umbrella. I started reminiscing about past Valentines Days, which precipitated a string of storytelling. The kids were enthralled.
In third or fourth grade, I was smitten with a pair of shoes at Hilton’s Shoes. Most our clothes came from thrift stores or KMart (pity mothers 30 years ago who didn’t have Target!), so these shoes were out of my league. They were varsity. Rainbow canvas, covered toe and heel, with ties up the ankle. I drew them, imagined myself making an appearance at school, and was certain they would make me feel beautiful forever. Unbeknownst to me, my mom saved up some extra money and rode her bike downtown to make the purchase. When she got to Hiltons, the cash had fallen out of her pocket somewhere along the way, and I never got my shoes. I teared up recounting it, and Yancey said, “Why did your Mom even tell you that story if you never got the shoes?” I said I didn’t know, but that I had always been glad she did. It’s one of the many, many things in my life that’s told me I’m loved.
Emily always says that Valentine’s Day is a time to celebrate love in all its forms. Though she’s been single for much of the time I’ve known her, she’s always the one sending pink cards or calling to say she loves me. I’m soaking it up today, from every little nook and cranny. I hope you are, too.
P.S. Soaking it up from my sweetheart, too. Sarah Murphy, Yancey Kangas, Junior Prom, 1991. If it’s true that all you need is love, we’ve been very rich for a very long time.
Snickerdoodle Muffins
I got so carried away with nostalgia that I’ve forgotten to talk these up properly. Every mother should have these up her sleeve. One bowl, pedestrian ingredients, but a child’s delight. I almost made a cranberry Irish soda bread this morning, but remembered that my goal was so see the kids wolf something down. If your children are anything like mine, they’re not big on texture. These are buttery, sweet, yielding pillows–nothing to get in the way of appreciative grunts. This recipe makes only 8 muffins, which I like. If you’re serving a crowd, though, you’ll want to double it.
1 1/2 c. + 2 Tb. flour
3/4 c. sugar
2 ts. baking powder
1/4 ts. salt
1/4 ts. nutmeg (freshly ground, if possible)
1/2 c. milk
1 beaten egg
1/3 c. melted butter
For topping:
1 ts. cinnamon
1/2 c. sugar
1/3 c. melted butter
Preheat oven to 400.
Combine first five ingredients. Add milk, egg, and 1/3 c. melted butter, mix gently to combine. Butter a muffin tin, and fill muffin cups 1/2 full and bake for 15-20 minutes, until tops are light brown and springy to the touch.
While muffins are still warm, dip in butter and roll in cinnamon and sugar. Serve warm.
 Last night, I ate dinner in my car before a client meeting–10 triscuits with cheddar, a handful of almonds, clipboard in my lap. The night before that, dinner was 5 cubes of cheese and some dried-out radishes from a corporate veggie tray. In snippets of home time, it’s been rice and beans, warmed from a big vat I made last weekend. In short, I haven’t cooked at all.
So I’m hoping you’ll be gracious with me–I’m not posting creative valentine treats or musings about romantic dinners. Every ounce of energy this week has gone other places–helping Yancey caretake two sick children (though Yancey did most of it); mediating a workplace conflict; facilitating a bunch of interesting meetings (which are more exhausting than boring ones); hearing from a friend about how I screwed up (and agreeing); conversations with a few friends who are sad; tumbling into bed at night exhausted.
Downtown on Monday, between obligations, I stopped at a deli for an egg salad sandwich. I ate in in my car with inhuman speed. Nothing ever tasted so good as those mealy tomatoes on whole wheat, each cube of egg perfectly coated in mayo. Today, home with the kids and listening to the rain, I pulled some chicken out of the freezer and made this. It’s kind of summery–the sort of thing I’d pack in a tupperware and take to the park while I watch the kids play in the sun. I vaguely remember an enthusiastic welcome for Fall on this blog. I take it back. Bring on the chicken salad sandwiches. (Especially if they are these ones.)
Curried Chicken Salad with Mango and Almonds
I have really been the Queen of Dried Fruit this winter. Here I go again. If you’ve got some perfect fresh mangos around (ripe, but still firm), you could certainly use those. Diced canned or fresh pineapple would be delicious as well. You could sub roasted peanuts for the almonds, and add finely chopped green onion or jalapenos, too.
2 chicken breasts, cooked and shredded or cubed
1/2 c. toasted slivered almonds
1/4 c. finely chopped dried mango
3 Tb. fresh cilantro, finely chopped
2 Tb. finely chopped red onion
3/4 c. plain Greek yogurt (has to be the thick kind. If you don’t have it, use mayo before you use regular, unstrained yogurt)
salt (plenty)
1 Tb. sugar
2 tsp. curry powder
Combine yogurt, salt, sugar, and curry powder, mixing thoroughly. It should taste on the salty side.
Combine chicken, mango, cilantro, and red onion in a bowl. Add yogurt mixture and gently mix. Add almonds and fold in until just incorporated. Serve on crackers, in pita or lettuce cups, or between bread with savoy cabbage, like I’ve done here.
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