 I’ve had a scrambled week. I’m definitely entering a new season in my life, and a bit unprepared. Sort of like being caught in a downpour with a wool sweater on. I was going to say, “Caught in a downpour without an umbrella,” but that wouldn’t be bothersome for Seattleites. We never carry umbrellas. But wet wool sweaters? That happens to us all the time, and it stinks.
One necessary evil lately is having to work in the morning while the kids watch cartoons. (If you care about me, please don’t send any links to stories about screen time.) And they’ve been getting toast and fruit for breakfast while I drink my coffee standing up. This morning, though–Sunday morning, kids coming down with colds, Yancey at the station–I put down my work to make doughnuts. I don’t want them to feel entirely neglected. And nothing says, “Your mother loves you more than she loves her iPhone” like deep-frying. Deep-frying and rolling in sugar, no less.
One of our favorite rituals is getting the hot cinnamon-y doughnuts at Pike Place Market. These days, the secret is out, and there’s often a line snaking down the center of the market. I don’t think I can beat those, but you won’t have to get on the train or pay for parking when you make these. And they don’t have ginger ones.
I could really take up your day by stopping to talk about ginger–fresh, candied, dried. And its limitless, delicious uses in smoothies, cookies, cakes, curries, soups, tea. I always have a few big knobs in my produce drawer and a bag of crystallized ginger in the pantry. Unfortunately, my children aren’t quite as keen on it. Sugar all over his face, Wyatt said, “Mom, thanks for the awesome breakfast. Minus the ginger.” It didn’t stop them, though.
Gingered Doughnuts
Adapted from my green Gourmet cookbook. This recipe makes about 40 small doughnuts. I halved it. I used my cast iron skillet for deep frying and a candy thermometer to make sure the oil was hot enough. When you test it, make the sure the tip doesn’t rest on the bottom of the pan. It will melt (not that I’ve learned the hard way or anything). You can certainly make these doughnuts without the candied and dried ginger. Or roll them in sugar and cinnamon instead of sugar and dried ginger. This dough is easy to make and easy to work with. The hardest part about these is making sure the oil doesn’t get too hot or too cool and making sure you don’t eat the entire batch.
4 cups all-purpose flour plus additional for dusting
4 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 3/4 cups sugar
2 oz crystalized ginger, finely chopped (1/3 cup)
3/4 cup well-shaken buttermilk
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
2 large eggs
10 cups vegetable oil
For dredging mixture, whisk together 1 cup sugar and 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger in a shallow bowl.
Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, 3/4 c sugar, and 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger in a large bowl.
Whisk buttermilk, butter, and eggs until smooth, then buttermilk mixture to flour mixture and stir until a dough forms (dough will be sticky).
Turn out dough onto a well-floured surface and knead gently just until it comes together, 10 to 12 times, then form into a ball. Lightly dust work surface and dough with flour, then roll out dough into a 13-inch round (about 1/3 inch thick) with a floured rolling pin. Cut out 3/4″ rounds with floured cutter and transfer to a lightly floured baking sheet. Gather scraps and reroll, then cut out additional rounds. (Reroll only once.)
Heat oil in a wide 5-quart heavy pot until thermometer registers 375°F. Working in batches of 7 or 8 (or 4 or 5 if you’re using a cast iron skillet), carefully add rounds, 1 at a time, to oil and fry, turning over once, until golden brown, 1 1/2 to 2 minutes total per batch. (Return oil to 375°F between batches.) Transfer to paper towels to drain. Cool slightly, then dredge in ginger sugar.
 Came home at 4:30 yesterday, cooked dinner for my family, then left again at 5:45 for an evening meeting. For you non-city-dwellers, that’s a lot of driving in Seattle. At the worst times. Yancey could have easily fed himself and the kids, and I could have gone out for sushi or tacos by myself. But then I would have missed our chaotic little foursome–kids complaining about vegetables, Loretta spilling her bubble water, and me gushing with news about my iPhone (believe all the good things you hear).
Here’s the sort of thing I cook on those nights. Some chopping, a tiny bit of cooking, a lot of nourishment. Made possible by a trip to the produce stand last weekend where I stocked up on several random things without a plan.
P.S. Loved all your tips and cautions about counting calories. I ran into a reader at the gym this morning. She said, “So, will you be all about diet recipes now?” An emphatic “NO!” My philosophy and style isn’t changing, and I don’t plan on counting calories forever. It has been very instructive, though, to start recognizing the mindless morsels that end up in my mouth throughout the day.
Weeknight Couscous Bowl
Scrounge in your fridge for anything that might taste good atop a bowl of warm couscous. I did julienned yellow peppers, crumbled feta, sunflower seeds, red jalapéno rings, zucchini quickly sauteed in garlic and olive oil, baked tofu, shredded carrots, green onions, and lemon slices. Then I mixed up a little yogurt dressing–1 c. plain yogurt, 1 minced garlic clove, a squeeze of lemon, salt, red pepper flakes. You could also add some tahini if you have it. Put all the toppings in the middle of the table and give everyone a bowl of couscous. (For 4 people, boil 3 c. water with a bit of salt and butter. Once water has boiled, take off heat. Add 3 c. whole wheat couscous, stir, cover, and let sit for 5 minutes. Take lid off, fluff with a fork.)
 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.
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