Leftover Rice Pudding

On Tuesday it rained and rained. I stared into the fridge and the only thing I saw was a huge pot of white rice, leftover from a weekend dinner party. Longing to feel productive, I pulled the pot from the fridge to the stove and got to work, adding milk, an egg yolk, butter, a whisper of whiskey, and lots and lots of cinnamon. In minutes I had hot rice pudding.

Now here's the thing: I don't really like rice pudding. Rice, yes. Risotto, yes. Puddings and custards, oh yes. But rice pudding? It has never been my favorite. I made it simply because I wanted to feel accomplished: a glug of milk, a few shakes and stirs, and something warm and delicious was smelling up the house. I washed the dishes, stared at enough rice pudding to feed eight people, and felt very satisfied.

But then I had to try it. A bite to make sure it was laced with just enough cinnamon. And then another bite after I'd added a bit of salt to bump up all the other flavors. And before I knew what was happening, I had a steaming bowl of rice pudding topped with walnut pieces and segments of tangerine and was eating it for dinner. For dinner! I did it again last night.

Do I like rice pudding? I'm not really sure. But I am loving the decadence of eating it, bowl after bowl. Now, for the rest of my life, I will see rice pudding, pale and gloppy on deli shelves and think of it fondly: 'Oh yes, rice pudding,' my mind will say. 'It sustained me through one very tough week of book revising.'

And the memory will be warm, and comforting, and sweet.

The photo and the ratios for making rice pudding from leftover rice were found here. Not wanting to measure how much rice I had, I simply added several cups of milk along with a beaten egg yolk, whiskey, and cinnamon, and cooked it on medium heat for about 25 minutes. I tasted for flavor, added a bit more milk, and then finished it off with a couple tablespoons of butter, some salt, and even more cinnamon. I think it is supposed to be served cold, but I eat it warm, oatmeal style, with dried fruit and nuts. My roommate tops it with honey. It is perfect for a rainy April day.

Warm Eggplant and Chickpea Salad

I was laying in bed last night trying to recall what I've been eating for dinner lately. Is it terrible to say I really couldn't remember? These days, everything is blending together into a manic mess of revisions and days spent at the computer, lunches are eaten quickly while trying not to get crumbs on the computer. Dinner is a haze of salads and toasted bread with cheese and a slice of avocado.

But after a bit more thinking, I remembered. Ah yes, it wasn't just a simple green salad I'd been eating all week. It was a very hearty, very good, very healthful salad adapted for spring from a recipe from Smitten Kitchen.

The first time I made this I used butternut squash and oh, it was delicious. But then butternut squash season passed. Yet there were still so many elements of this salad that made it enticing for the rest of the year: lemon, cilantro, tahini, and chickpeas. So when I spotted an eggplant at my Saturday market it seemed fated.

It was a simple, but excellent, change. And it reminded me of what I liked best about the original recipe: this is a hearty, fill 'er up salad that tastes really good. I get lots of protein, vegetables (I tend to pile a scoop on mixed greens) and don't feel hungry again for hours.

Now if it could just cure my after lunch craving for something buttery and sweet.



For salad:
1 medium eggplant cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 medium garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt
One 15-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (1 1/2 cups)
1/4 of a medium red onion, finely chopped
1/4 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro
For tahini dressing:
1 medium garlic clove, finely minced with a pinch of salt
1/4 cup lemon juice
3 tablespoons well-stirred tahini
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more to taste
Preheat the oven to 450°F.
In a large bowl, combine eggplant, garlic, olive oil, and a few pinches of salt. Toss the eggplant pieces until evenly coated. Roast them on a baking sheet for 25 minutes, or until soft. Remove from the oven and cool.
Meanwhile, make the tahini dressing: In a small bowl, whisk together the garlic and lemon juice. Add the tahini, and whisk to blend. Add the water and olive oil, whisk well, and taste for seasoning. The sauce should have plenty of nutty tahini flavor, but also a little kick of lemon. You will probably need to add more water to thin it out.
To assemble the salad, combine the squash, chickpeas, onion, and cilantro or parsley in a mixing bowl. Either add the tahini dressing to taste, and toss carefully, or you could serve the salad with the dressing on the side. Serve immediately over mixed greens, brown rice, or all on its own. Just the extra dressing as you would any salad dressing: it is the perfect springboard for other Mediterranean meals.

Lemon Tea Cake Makes Me Happy

The weekend is over. It was a mess of dinners, drinks, and late nights that morphed into sunny days, trips to the market, and spring cleaning. Now I am back to the drudgery of fussing over every sentence, every thought, every comma in my book manuscript. It isn't always fun work. Most of the time my eyes feel blurry, my heart feels fluttery, and my body feels like all its energy has been sucked away.

I am so glad I have these lemony muffins in my arsenal to remind me that the world is full of delicious things best enjoyed far from a computer screen. 

They look a little plain, don't they? And maybe for some they are. You see they aren't packed with something juicy or topped with swirls of cream or lemon spiked frosting. They are a demure tea cake made with half-wheat flour which gave them a crumbly, almost polenta like texture. The glaze consists of a vanilla bean mingling with some sugar and lemon juice in a pot on the stove while I checked my email frantically. Is anyone else out there a multi-tasker?

My tasks were finished just in time to pull the small cakes out of the oven and sit with one in the dining room for a few quiet minutes that included nothing but the stripe of sunshine across the table.

Lemon Yogurt Tea Cakes (based on a Ina recipe, via Smitten Kitchen, with a few modifications of my own)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (I used 1/2 whole wheat pastry flour and loved the crumb it created)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
3 extra-large eggs
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (approximately 2 lemons)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 vanilla bean, split
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease and paper a 12 cup muffin tin. 
Sift together 1 1/2 cups flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 1 cup sugar, the eggs, lemon zest, vanilla and oil. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 30 (+) minutes -- Smitten Kitchen's recipe was for a loaf, but I wanted tea cakes and used a muffin tin. Thus, while baking I had to watch carefully. My baked in about 35 minutes.
Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup lemon juice, vanilla bean, and remaining 1 tablespoon sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is clear. Remove vanilla bean. Set aside.
When the tea cakes are done, allow them to cool in the pan for 10 minutes before flipping out onto a cooling rack. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While still warm, pour the lemon-sugar mixture over the cake and allow it to soak in (a pastry brush works great for this, as does using a toothpick to make tiny holes that draw the syrup in better). Cool.

Weekend, Again

I was off in the woods for most of the week, revising my book manuscript. It's due in six-and-a-half weeks if you're counting (and I am). I ventured into the woods with a bag of groceries, but managed not to cook at all. At times this could be treacherous, but when I'm deep in the creative process I actually enjoy an edited diet centered mostly on toasted Acme walnut bread: toast with jam, hot coffee, and milk in the morning. Toast with cheese, sliced avocado, or egg at noon time. Wilted greens or salads with roasted chicken and a plank of toast for dinner, yum.

But a girl has to come back and eat! We have been spending Saturday mornings at a new neighborhood spot called Local: Mission Eatery. A couple of Saturdays we have even been the first people there, waiting expectantly for the doors to open.

First we crawl to the very back, where the Knead Patisserie girls pour strong cups of coffee and offers petite lemon loafs, airy brioche, scones with whipped cream, and several bite sized Frenchie pastries: one stuffed with rum spiked custard, another dusted with cinnamon and sugar.

After coffee, the paper, and sweets we move (slowly) into brunch. For the past two weeks it has been bowls full of grits topped with sausage, ricotta, and smoked greens.

Can you tell I'd be just as happy to forgo Friday and head straight into tomorrow morning? If only I could.

P.S. This photo was taken last Saturday at Local: Mission Eatery. I love how it is slightly messy. We were already well into our breakfast routine, the paper and numerous cookbooks spread out around us, pastries nearly finished. I love routines.

Lemon Poppy Seed Cake

When life hands you lemons, you are supposed to make lemon-aid, right? But what if life hands you two dozen regular lemons and two dozen Meyer lemons, all hand picked from someone's backyard tree?

Then, my friends, you must make lemon-aid, and lemon infused vodka, and lemon vinaigrette, and lemon cake. Lemon cake with poppy seeds and lemon glaze and very thin slices of Meyer lemon that become deliciously candied after sitting under the glaze over night, to be more exact.

Sweet and tart and delicious, this was the perfect accompaniment to Easter Brunch (radicchio mushroom quiche, sausage, greens, mimosas, coffee, and the Sunday Times -- oh my!) and added some definite sun to what was, in San Francisco, a very gray and blustery day.

 Lemon Poppy Seed Cake
2 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, room temperature
2 cups granulated sugar
3 egggs
grated zest of one large lemon (feeling zesty, I used two lemons)
1 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon poppy seeds

I created the glaze for this cake on the fly, juicing and zesting one lemon, adding about 2 cups of powdered sugar (sweeten to taste), and a little bit of water to thin. Easy.

Preheat oven to 325. Generously butter and flour a 10 inch bundt pan, or if you can't find yours, use a 9 by 13 pan.
Sift flour, baking powder, and salt into bowl, set aside.
Cream butter and sugar until mixture is very light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Blend in lemon zest. Add flour mixture in three batches, then blend in sour cream. Mix in poppy seeds. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake for 55 to 65 minutes or until cake springs back when touched in the center. When the cake has cooled for about 10 minutes, drizzle with glaze. If you have access to a lovely Meyer lemon, consider slicing it thinly and arranging it on the top of the cake before brushing or drizzling with glaze. This adds a delicious (and not too sour) bite to the bite.

Care Package: Cereal and Milk

These are the granola bars that were packed into a brown paper package and mailed from San Francisco to Salt Lake City to fortify my brother in his final week of studying for the MCAT.

Nigella Lawson calls them the bar equivalent of a bowlful of cereal and milk. She isn't far off, especially if you like your cereal sweet. These were a bit too sugar laden for me to eat for breakfast. I found them to be more like a jacked up oatmeal cookie than a healthy way to start the day. But by mid-morning or afternoon I think they would be the perfect pick-me-up, especially alongside a steaming cup of black coffee. And after midnight I imagine they would be decadently perfect.

Rumor has it that the combination of oats, raisins, seeds, and nuts does amazing things for a slightly sleep deprived, stress laden brain. Eat up, little brother, eat up.

Cereal & Milk Bars
1 14-fl-oz can condensed milk
2 1/2 cups rolled oats (not instant)
1 cup shredded coconut
1 cup dried cranberries or raisins
1 cup mixed seeds (pumpkin, sunflower, sesame) -- I added flax
1 cup natural unsalted peanuts
1. Preheat the oven to 250 degrees and oil a 9- x 13-inch baking pan or just use a disposable aluminum foil one.
2. Warm the condensed milk in a large pan.
3. Meanwhile, mix all the other ingredients together and add the warmed condensed milk, using a rubber spatula to fold and distribute.
4. Spread the mixture into the oiled or foil pan and press down with a spatula or, better still, your hands to make the surface even. (This pressing part is important! I failed to press enough and ended up with bars that wanted to crumble.)
5. Bake for 1 hour, remove, and after about 15 minutes, cut into four across and four down, to make 16 chunky bars. Let cool completely.
Makes 16