Potlikker

obsessed: america's food addiction

Even though I'm a fan of Mika Brzezinski's books, I haven't seen her live on Mornin' Joe. My television watching is of the binge sort; a season of The Killing, or Breaking Bad, or Orange is the New Black. Had to check: It airs 6-9am. 

Loved Knowing Your Value. Stumbled upon it front-faced out in the business section at big-box bookstore--I don't shop indies in my small city because we don't have indies in my small city. And Brzezinski's book, that book, is so chockablock full with excellent advice, that I took two pages of notes from it that I share with my Intro to Women's Studies students--yeah I teach about identity, justice, and equality, as well as information literacy, as my day job--in the weeks we talk about work in and outside the home. That's always my topic to cover, but they aren't so interested for some reason.

But, I digress. Obsessed: America's Food Addiction--And My Own, is a self-explanatory title, folks. You can figure it out, but I'll give you a synopsis. Its genesis was a conversation Brzezinski and her best friend, Diane, another woman in broadcasting, had that pushed their friendship to the edge. 

If you don't know Brzezinski, she's a gorgeous, size 2 blonde, ambitious, mid-forties woman with two daughters. And her friend Diane is a bit older, no children, whose career isn't as high profile as Brzezinski's. Plus, Diane weighed about 250 pounds. Brzezinski flat out told Diane that she was fat and that she loved her and didn't want her to die and that she needed to lose 50 poundsm more or less. 

But that wasn't all. Brzezinski confessed her own food obsession. How she thought about food constantly from the moment she awoke each morning. How she exercised and pushed her body mercilessly. How she disciplined her mind so that she wouldn't overeat, wouldn't indulge in the foods that she really craved.

The women's ongoing conversation and personal food histories are interwoven within the chapters of the book within which Brzezinski captures the state of our freaked out relationship with food today. Between the two of them, they're tried every fad diet in the USA. She explores fat phobia by visiting Yale's Rudd Center and seeing how the Fat Phobia Scale works and watching fat bias in action. 

She shares information about the changing eating habits of American families. Depending on how well versed readers are, much of this is not new, such as American homemakers relying on processed and canned foods more so in the 1950s and 1960s. And how this has snowballed to the point that today

Cooking from scratch seems to have become a hobby for a small group of people and a chore that the rest of us no longer bother with. 

Too, we're aware of food science and we biologically respond to foods that have added sugar, fat, and salt: we become addicted to them, like methheads. Brzezinski includes interviews with several recovering food addicts, case studies, if you will, making her argument more persuasive: Michael Prager, Ashley Gearhardt, and Brian Stetler all dealt with food cravings and won, eventually. 

Reading about sugar in our diets was most illuminating. I considered whether there was a tipping point that our bodies could or could not metabolize. Thankfully, I don't drink sugary drinks, which are mentioned as the worst offenders. But learning about how hard the liver works to break down fructose, plus its potential link to cancer is worrisome. Dare I mention obesity, diabetes, etc. I think y'all know all that, right? 

As the book progresses, Diane loses weight and exercises while Brzezinski adds weight and tries remaining at 135 which is her body's set point. She visits a nutritionist who suggests she add more protein to her diet for satiety since she rarely feels full after eating her spartan diet. She solicits dieting advice from persons successful at maintaining weight loss: Frank Bruni, Padma Lakshmi, Jennifer Hudson, Nora Ephron, and others. 

One of the last chapters was most important, especially to me, "Teach your children well." Modeling healthy eating when your own habits aren't that fantastic, what a conundrum? One exercise in the book uses a points system to help children understand the quality of different food choices; you rate the food from one to ten.

What works best for me/us is not buying high fructose corn syrup items, but then my husband buys and brings home those items.

Duh.

Brzezinski uses her platform to open the conversation about this topic with her audience and widen it to other audiences and readerships. It's an excellent introduction to what's going on with our food and why we should be more mindful about what goes into our mouths. Afterall, it is our very lives we're talking about. We should be mindful about what we eat, when we eat, why we eat, and how we eat.

gluten is my bitch draft review appears from beyond

Backed up my iPad to the cloud yesterday pm and out of nowhere my original draft review of Gluten is my Bitch appears in my gmail inbox like Casper the Friendly Ghost and man don't watch the original version of that cartoon because the racist, sexist stereotypes make me want to censor my child's television agency and I'm not that kind of parent.

Wanna read it? 

Hands down Gluten is my bitch: rants recipes and ridiculousness for the gluten-free is the most irreverent guide to gluten-free cooking and eating I've ever read. It's also the only one. Can't claim to be late to the gluten-free party on this one. Gluten-free doesn't effect me, or my family, thankfully. Though secretly I believe it does.

You see the men in my life crap their pants. And I've always thought its just because they're men and men have inferior GI tracts. As Gaga says: Born that way.

My step-father farted constantly when I shared a household with he and my mom. Then at some point after my intended and I shacked up and lived together in sin he thought it was safe to let loose and it hasn't stopped since.

Lucky me.

I chalked it up to men and their sucky bowels. They're just meant to eat meat and be gone from home for great lengths of time with hunting parties so women don't have to smell their odiferousness,  right?

Naw. It's Gluten, baby. But see if I can sell the hubs on that. He doesn't have a rash and he hasn't lost a scary amount of weight. So maybe it isn't gluten after all those are only two of many symptoms April Peveteaux breaks down for readers in this totally atypical guide to celiac disease.

I've never read one before because they're lengthy, complex, & not relevant to my life. But April's tone is fun. Maybe it touched me a the right moment.  What's more fun to read than frequent reminders about crapping ones pants? Brings out the juvie in each of us.

Oh but wait. There are reasons other than suffering from celiac to go gluten-free like recovering from depression, brain fog, anemia, joint pain, mouth sores, acid reflux, anxiety, migraines, and other conditions. Who knew?

And that totally reminds me that one my friends' children has celiac. Kelly said integrating that into their family dinners hasn't been too tough, but in his classroom it can be dicey. April's chapter "Holy crap my kids a celiac" undoubtedly will reassure parents entering the celiac game at any stage.

The recipes look awesome. Didn't try them though because I don't have any gluten-free flours in my house. It appears though, for the most part, one could simply substitute gluten-free flours in ones old recipes. I know, but it's not so simple.

April shares several gluten-free cooking secrets like it takes longer for things to bake so make sure to really preheat the oven and others you'll not want to miss.

I think it's actually better than what I ended up writing/posting on Wednesday, but that's just me.

gluten is my bitch (uh, not just yet) (galley review)

So I reviewed this galley at least a month ago. Wrote it up all nice and pretty on my iPad and LOST the dread thing, somehow. And have been super lazy about the re-write. Re-creating it might be a bitch, to plcuk from April Peveteaux's title. But, perhaps I can improve upon my original.

Gluten is my Bitch: Rants, Receipes, and Ridiculouness for the Gluten-free is the first--damn, cannot use tome here, because this is a slim thang they sent me to review-- galley of this nature I've read. Of the gluten-nature, I mean. 

You see, my family and I are lucky in that we do not suffer from the celiac disease. Praise the Lord. But, there are ____ loads (insert shit before there, because as April drops the bomb so eloquently in chapter one "What to do when you're crapping your pants") of folks who do gluten-free by choice because of its many health benefits. Granted, I'm one of those who veer toward the gluten-free side just because it's gotta be better for you. 

April writes the blog Gluten is my Bitch. It came first, then the book. Sadly, I had not read her blog prior to reading the galley, but I love her voice. You will too. So energetic. How can someone weighed down with celiac disease pluse with energy and such be gifted with a flair for language? I mean, I suppose my notion of those suffering from disease is outmoded, cause April has killer energy, energy out the yang, and a level of happiness that just ain't natural. It's all those alt wheat flours she's injesting.

Heck April breaks it down for you anyway. Going gluten-free might help you with:

depression, brain fog, anemina, joint pain, muscle cramps, mouth sores, acid reflux, dental & bone disorders, neuropathy, exhaution & weakness, stundent growth, weight loss, fertitlity problems & miscarriage, anxiety, migraines, acne & eczema.

Gluten is my Bitch is a mix of memoir and recipes you won't want to miss. Amd, the cooking tips? Who knew all this mess about how gluten-free cookie batter sucks? Obviously not I.  And then there's the bit about having to preheat the heck out of your oven because gluten-free baked goods take extra long to cook. Seriously. I'm sure that you could learn all this in most gluten-free cookbooks, but you wouldn't have nearly as much fun.

Another jewel I learned is once you go gluten-free, you can still make most of your favorite recipes, but you have to substitute your nasty old shit-inducing flour for a sparkling new gluten-free kind and maybe add xanthan gum.

Or maybe I'm wrong.

So like when you make pasta, use gluten-free noodles. Right? Correct me if I'm wrong. Oh, and then adjust your cooking time per the cooking tip above that I revealed.

Given the sample of April's writing and recipes that I tasted in the proof her publicist from Abrams Books sent me, I gotta say that I love her voice and want to read more. Gluten is my Bitch is truly entertainining. April's voice is original. Her experiences in the kitchen, disco dance floorand elsewhere, will have you raising your rolling pins in gluten-free solidarity and clamouring for more.

Okay, one more thing, Gluten is my bitch is spot on for parents whose darlings have celiac disease. Chapter Six, "Holy Crap my Kid's a Celiac" walks newbie parents through the process, like the blood test, and then stocking your pantry, getting ready for snack-time at preschool, etc.

And there's a helpful sidebar for those terrifying moments at the crafts table cautioning you to always check the label on your kid's modeling clay, paper mache, finger paints, and play-doh, cause if they eat it, they'll have diarrhea.

my girl loves dough

Anytime I have a flour + water combo on the table kneading it into a shape, Elsa sniffs it out and wants to get her fingers doughy. She loves helping make pizza, or biscuits, or anything. Her middle name should be Helper instead of Marie. But who knew she'd be an astonishing helper? That she'd love to be in the kitchen?

Developing her kitchen skills is my main goal this year but I'm at a loss as to what direction to head. Normally I throw caution to the wind and end up letting her tackle much more than she's ready for because I overestimate her manual dexterity. 

While she's nowhere near ready for knife skills (nor AM I!), we're priming her for the day when she can learn to cut carrots and cheese and other items with a knife. 

But, one thing is for sure: I've a ready supply of dough keeping her busy. But we all know that overworked dough doesn't always equal something we want to eat. I keep a bit of "play" dough on hand for her to wiggle her digits through so we have tender bread to sink our incisors into. Otherwise, we'd be throwing our bread to the dogs, and they'd love that.

 

back in the day bakery

Back in May, when we drove to Florida, I so wanted to stop in Savannah so I might visit Back in the Day Bakery and sample their signature baked goods. That was not to be. On our trip south, we missed them because we drove through Georgia to late, after they closed and on driving north the bakery was closed that day. So, another time, for sure, we'll stop in Savannah. 

I received gallies for the Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook : Cakes, Pies, Cookies, Bars, and Breads from the Best Little Bakery in the South sometime ago, but haven't had a chance to cook from it until last week. I have a serious backlog of recipes that I want to make, and not enough egg money on hand to make them all. 

Almost every time Elsa and I visit Earth Fare she grabs one of the mini shopping carts because she enjoys grocery shopping, picking out produce, and navigating the aisles. It's mostly a harrowing experience for me. I correct her "Mind the endcaps!" "Don't bump that person!" "Slow down!" and all sorts of other cautions escape my mouth. She asks for bananas and apples and strawberries, and carrots and all sorts of veggies, even if she doesn't eat them herself, she knows I like them. Invariably we have bananas on hand. We bring them home, and then she won't necessarily eat them. So I'm always seeking recipes using bananas and had flagged the Brown Sugar Banana Bread recipe early on. 

My banana bread baking experiences have been spotty in the past. Thus I approach banana bread recipes with trepidation. I perked up when I read the ingredients list and saw mace and sour cream listed. Mace is unusual. I have it on hand, for the rare recipe that calls for it. And, if you don't know what it is, it's the bright red lacey outer covering of nutmeg. But it appears orangish when its dried and in a glass container. Naturally, the sour cream keeps the bread super moist. And another peculiar thing, was that the recipe called for toasted pecans. Most banana bread recipes I've made in the past have you throw them in untoasted. 

Undoubtedly, the addition of mace, sourcream, and toasted pecans combined to make this banana bread the Most Fantastic banana bread recipe I've come across yet. I'm not a banan a bread fan at all. I make it and I might taste a bite. Then I expect others in my house to eat the rest, or foist it off on folks at work or I take it to my Dad who gets little homecooking anymore since my step-mother returned to the workplace several years ago. But I ate slice after slice of this banana bread. And my dogs ate it too. Of course, they'll eat almost anything.

Late in life I've come to appreciate sweet potatoes. They never appealed to me earlier I think because of how they were presented. My aunt made a candied sweet potato dish at Thanksgiving which was topped with marshmallows. Tempting as the marshmallows were, I was repelled by what was underneath: oily orange muck. It didn't appear appetizing at all. 

Suddenly, I've made sweet potato pie, and I love it. Same thing happened with pecan pie and me, also. Must be a personal food pattern. Or, it's just this fantastic recipe. I think it's mace. Must be the mace effect. Gotta love a cook who uses mace liberally in her recipes. And that's what I really appreciate about Cheryl Day, her mace in your face attitude toward cooking. 

Bring on the mace! What's in this pie, you ask? sweet potatoes, heavy cream, eggs, molasses (or sorghum---I didn't have sorghum on hand, but I really want some Muddy Pond Sorghum, I may have to make a special trip up there because no store nearby sells it.), light brown sugar, cardamon (my favorite, btw!), cloves, mace, ginger, and sea salt.

Time for a confession: I almost constructed this pie with an out-of-date Pillsbury piecrust. I didn't want to go to all the trouble of making a crust from scratch. It would take too much time. Yeah for readymade! The box had been sitting in my fridge for sometime. I won't tell you how long. I glanced at the use by date, and thought I'd try it anyway. Once out of the plastic packaging though I couldn't peel the dough apart, it was mushy. Ugh. 

I almost gave up on making this Sweet Potato Pie! Then I looked more carefully at the list of ingredients and saw that Shortcut Piecrust was listed. So amazing. Flour, butter, and sugar (white or brown sugar). This will be my go-to pie crust. Ian asked about the piecrust, even. He LOVED it. Super easy and a time-saver. No rolling, you don't have to be easy with it or anything. Just pat it into the pie dish.

The only thing I didn't do was make the Fresh Whipped Cream topping. Didn't have enough heavy whipped cream for the recipe. Surely, it would have been a heavenly addition. But the pie was thick and luscious and rich alone. Yeah, so it was a bit stringy, but that's because of the sweet potatoes fiberousness. Ian thought it was quite similar to pumpkin pie, so it's possible that you could pass this off as a pumpkin pie to your family and friends. 

With these three recipes to go on I conclude that the rest of the book is sure to please me, and anyone else with with a range of traditional Southern baked good like Blueberry Buckle, Pecan Sandras, and more. Nouveau baked goods such as Buttermilk Biscones, Guava-Sweet Cheese Turnovers, Creole Brownies, and a slew of savories including yummy Vegetable Potpie and a Pancetta-Fontina Bread Pudding dreamed up by Griffith Day.

The photography (125 color photos as indicated by the gallies) and styling looks amazing, from what I can see of the black and white galley images and so I cannot fully comment on the effect of the published book. I love food photographers and food stylists and follow their work. Reviewing their work and what it brings to each cookbook is as much a part of my review as the recipe. Many cookbook readers browse the pages and have visceral reactions to the photography and styling. Sometimes the right photograph compels a reader to her kitchen to replicate a recipe by her own hands. Obviously, that passion and emotion was lacking in my experience with the gallies. Squire Fox shot the photos for Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook. 

flag pond ramp festival

May twelfth was the twenty-seventh annual Flag Pond Ramp Festival, but it was my first time attending. They didn't establish the festival until I was a (very young) teenager, so it's not anything my parents would have taken me to as a child. Plus, while I'm technically a Unicoi county native (since all people in Unicoi county not born at home are born in Johnson City/Washington county, TN hospitals), I'm not eager to claim that identity. Oh, it's complicated and suitable for another type of blog, but not this one. And since it's one of those things that kind of happens in my back yard it doesn't seem exotic enough to capture my interest, so I've never been. Also, I asked one my of friends in the know whether it was any account. He said to skip it. Since I delayed in getting tickets to the Lake Eden shindig, we ended up at the Ramp Festival instead and that worked out just as well. 

Would have written about the ramp festival experience while it was fresher in my memory except that Ian had a gallbladder depositing us at the ER early Sunday morning (the thirteenth) and I sat at his hospital bedside all week comforting him and blogging was not a priority.

Nonetheless, the ramp festival was worth the $7 I paid for a plate of the best eating I'd had in a great while. I think that if Ian had made it home from work in time to come to the ramp festival with us and had eaten ramps, he wouldn't have had the gallbladder attack. Oh, the power of the ramp.

Funny, that at my age (40) I had never eaten a ramp. Since they became all the rage in the big city, I have even less desire to eat something so trendy. It's just the way I am, the anti-trendy. My grandfather and I hunted them on several occasions in the forests of Tennessee and North Carolina. He knew several patches. And undoubtedly he offered them to me, but I declined.

As did Elsa when I offered them to her. Folks who eat raw ramps are shunned. The odor is offensive, you see. My father-in-law mentioned that when he was in the reserves that the ramp-eaters were obvious from the non-ramp-eaters. But, cooked ramps are tender and subtle as -- gee-- a communion wafer. 

Seven dollars bought a large plate filled with bacon, ramps and potatoes, soup beans, cornbread, cole slaw, your choice of pickled items, dessert, and a drink.

Elsa is not an adventurous eater. We goad her into trying new things. Ironically she loves soup beans, a food I avoided as a child. We shared a plate. She ate the beans and nibbled the cornbread. My potatoes were half and half: half cooked with ramps and half plain; Elsa ate some of the plain. Both were delicious as they were seasoned with bacon fat. 

She saw the skillet/pile of bacon as we edged through the line and trilled "Bacon... I love bacon..." and the kindly man in charge of the bacon area slipped her two pieces before we received our plate and our serving of bacon.

Seating was limited, so we wandered everywhere before landing on the steps outside the cafeteria. The festival was held in the former Flag Pond elementary school building. Fortunately we weren't too much in the way. Elsa was happy. She made a craft, swang on the swings, and played on the playground. She made friends with the people who stood around us in line. Everyone loves a toddler, especially when she shouts out "My Daddy works in Carolina." And then acts all shy when they try to make further conversation with her. Chatting with folks at festivals is always fun. I absorbed information about ramps being early this year, and even earlier over in North Carolina. 

Ramp festival next year? Sure thing!

pie it forward

After oodles of years relying on pre-made Pillsbury pie crust dough I decided to make it from scratch. Isn't it about time? My kitchen philosophy is fairly well-balanced. I'm no--oh gosh, I can't think of her name, the woman who saves time by making everything with pre-made, processed canned goods and cookie dough--Sandra Lee. Yep, that's her. But I do uphold some standards in the kitchen.

Totally scorn her approach to time-saving measures, but I'm okay with using Pillsbury pie dough. Perhaps because my mother does it, and she declares that it's almost as good as homemade. So if Mama says... The other bit is that making pie dough from scratch always sort of scared me. Now, I didn't really do it completely from scratch like Beth Howard says to do in Making Piece, which I'll review soon.

But when I read the ingredients in Gesine Bullock-Prado's hand pie dough (milk and sweetened condensed milk) I was sold. Her new cookbook is Pie it Forward: Pies, Tortes, Galettes & Other Pastries Reinvented. And she uses a food processor to construct her pie dough. Since I need every opportunity to build my Cuisineart skillz, I was all for trying it out and luckily met with success.

Actually another seasonal event had some role in which recipe I chose, the Berry Hand Pies: The availability of strawberries. Strawberry season arrived at the end of April in east Tennessee and Scott's strawberry booths appeared in parking lots throughout the region. My friends and I who love the strawberries kept each other apprised of where those vendors appeared and whether there were workers selling pints, quarts, and bushels.

Once we pulled into the parking lot of our neighborhood farmer's co-op, Elsa selected which strawberry quarts she wanted. At home I weighed how many we needed according to the 170 g requirement from Bullock-Prado's recipe: just 10. So the rest of the recipe was totally awesome. Read these ingredients and see for yourself: sugar, lemon & lemon zest, finely chopped fresh rosemary, sea salt, and fresh raspberries. The filling's taste was simultaneously zingy and savory.

Elsa wanted to help roll the dough, but I let her brush the egg wash. That seemed more appropriate for her skill level in the kitchen. There was plenty of leftover dough to nibble, for both of us. Yum. 

Each recipe is everso tempting due to Tina Rupp's photography. Her change of vantage point and the mixture of close up and distant perspective offer readers a variety of images resulting in a dynamism that keeps us interested in seeing what treat our "sweety pie" will delight us with next. The real shame is that there aren't photos for every recipe.

And that's my big criticism for this cookbook, and every cookbook. I know including photos for each recipe drives the cost up. But I'm also more likely to try a recipe if I can see it. If if looks like something I'd like to eat, then I'll try it. I'm that way with desserts in restaurants. I love when they push the dessert truck out for show and tell. It helped with decision making. 

And that's the question: Which recipe is next? Which pie dough will I attempt? Shall I try a sweet or savory pie? Oh my gosh. I cannot decide. 

By the way, according to the new FTC regulations, I received a review copy of this book from the publisher, Stewart, Tabori, & Chang, but received no other form of compensation.

allergy-friendly food for families

Sometimes publicists send me books for review that I don't immediately find relevant to my life, and that was the case with Allergy-Friendly Food for Families, especially since we don't suffer from food allergies. And for that, I'm so grateful. After reading Don't Kill the Birthday Girl last year and learning how careful Sandra Beasley must be with everything she eats and drinks I'm more aware of those issues. I also have friends with children who have celiac disease, as well as colleagues who deal with it as well.

But then, it seems that adopting such a dietary change could only benefit us, and be more healthy in the end. So why not strive toward this lifestyle change if it is within our means?

Allergy-Friendly Food for Families is published by the editors of Kiwi. While I don't read that magazine regularly, I've picked it up a few times. Photography in the book is shot by two photographers. Lifestyle shots, which feature people, are done by Alexandra Grablewski, and the food photography is by Ghazalle Badiozamani. Both are fantastic photographers whose portfolios outshine what appears within the pages of this book.

While the photography illustrates the freshness, wholesomeness, and goodness of the recipes, unfortunately they could easily pass for stock images and that is disappointing. However, what is exciting about the images is that they show a variety of families enjoying food together. There are Asian families and multi-racial families eating and cooking together. There are black hands and white hands eating together. A father and son cooks together. I appreciate that the editors envision a community of eating and sharing of food unbound by traditional division of gender or race.

Divided into six categories: breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, and parties, each recipe is indexed by color-coded tabs that indicate it's status: gluten-free, dairy-free, nut-free, egg-free, and soy-free. The indexing in the back is arranged to make it easy for parents, children, and caretakers to quickly identify which category they want to browse. Dietary information including serving size, calories, fat, protein, carbs, and fiber is included with each recipe.

Each chapter includes tips for endowing children with kitchen skills. You can teach your children to scoop an avocado. After you slice it, you give half to your child and then teach her to slice and scoop, etc. A section at the back provides instruction for stocking a natural, allergy-free pantry. 

There are several intriguing recipes and the one that my piqued my curiosity was Black Bean Brownie Bites. I made them while Ian was at work and mentioned them in a fb update. The mere idea of them turned him off. Naturally, I made him try them. He loves brownies, chocolate, all things sweet. 

But, first things first. My experience with the recipe itself went well enough except for my blender. I have a standard blender that is at least 15 years old and after draining and rinsing the can of blank beans and putting them into the blender's carafe and punching each button, one after another.... nothing happened. I scraped the beans into a bowl and used my Braun hand blender instead and everything went perfectly fine from there. I'm eighty-sixing the old blender. It's a relic of Ian's that I may move and store in the basement.

What else? I had all the ingredients except for the evaporated cane sugar. I googled "substitution for evaporated cane sugar" and learned that honey will do, but you only use half the amount called for. That was simple enough. 

So my other concern about cooking from this book was the ready availability of ingredients. I'm fortunate that we have an organic market, a gourmet market, and several regular grocery stores nearby where I can shop. I shopped at the organic market and found most of the items listed in one of the last sections called "Building a Natural, Allergy-Free Pantry".

Most of the flour substitutes were easily found via the Bob's Red Mill brand, which I've seen locally available for at least the past ten years. As demand has grown for a variety of substitutes, our stores have stocked more of their products.

I used agave nectar that I found at T.J Maxx some time ago, but I've seen it on local shelves as well. My step-mother and mother-in-law are both diabetic, and so I'm always aware of alternative sweeteners and how I might incorporate or substitute those in dishes so that they can partake.

The only item I didn't easily find was chickpea flour. Of course, if you don't live near a grocery store that stocks these speciality items, it is ordering them online is, but there's nothing like shopping and comparing prices in person.

These were incredibly rich brownies. I barely finished mine. Elsa ate a bite or two and was done. Ian nibbled a bit, and he was astounded. The only weirdness he mentioned was a slight grittiness suggestive of their bean origins. Otherwise they are moist, thick, spongy, and really quite awesome. I'll make them again. We talked about adding nuts. Ian thought perhaps cashews. My mother regularly put nuts in every batch of brownies she baked. Invariably they were walnuts, and so I love a plain brownie. I hated having to pick walnuts out of the brownies she made. Ugh.  

I shared them with my women's studies class Monday afternoon, offering them to my students--who are all between 19 and 22 or so-- and I told them they were made with black beans. Only one tried a nibble. It is unfortunate that most students are not so adventurous with their eating. Nontheless, my taker/taster agreed they were outstanding for a bean brownie; she suffers from allergies to red dye, so she's particular about what she eats. Interestingly, several students admitted to food allergies. Oranges makes one's throat swell shut. And another has problems with coconut. Methinks it is a generational thing.

A few other recipes that caught my eye, mostly for their creativity, they were: pear dunkers with cashew-cinnamon yogurt sauce, spiced carrot fries, and polenta mini pizzas.

come to cauliflower or, praise be to Whitney Miller!

Relying on stereotypes when thinking about a cuisine or foodway is too easy, believe me, I know. My first instinct with a vegetable is to batter it or bread it and fry it in a pan because that's how I learned to cook; it's what I observed from watching my mother and her mother and my father's mother (the one who worked as a beloved high school cafeteria lady for a few decades when they still cooked the food fresh, on-site. When I told the head of graduate studies that I wanted to write a history of cafeteria ladies he was unenthusiastic, to say the least, so I took nine more hours and wrote no thesis) as they cooked.

Oh wait, my mother's father was a cook in the Navy circa late 1940s-1950 so he taught me a few tricks, too.

To make a long story longer... Other than frying a vegetable my next "go to" is boring old boiling with a smidge of flavoring. That is until I learned to steam. Love that.

But this is about how Whitney Miller's cookbook Modern Hospitality: Simple Recipes with Southen Charm, taught me to think about vegetables in a new way. One of the first things out of my mouth when I talked to her was an apology for never catching her prowess on the first season of MasterChef on FOX which she won. I explained that with an almost-three-year-old daughter, we don't watch any "real" television. And then I asked her which dish in her shabby chic-styled (lovely photography and styling, too, by the way) cookbook she recommended for children.

The cauliflower casserole. First you roast the cauliflower. It was after that point that I had my roasting epiphany.

The Come to Cauliflower moment. Or Come to Roasting. Roasting is wonderful. Simple. So leave it and it's done. I love it. But you drizzle it with a bit of olive oil, too. So it doesn't burn.

But once I roasted the cauliflower and removed them from my oven I couldn't keep my hands off them, they were manna from Heaven. I didn't want to finish the recipe. I did.

It was gobbilicious good. I was home alone and I ate two or three servings straight out of the serving dish. That was no biggie. It's likely that it wouldn't have tempted either Ian or Elsa.

Besides the cauliflower recipe Modern Hospitality features some of the best mashups of southern dishes that I've seen. They're not the same old recycled recipes that appear in every southern cookbook published each quarter. You know what I mean. If you're as familiar with the southern cookbook genre as I am there's a new southern cookbook Bible out every few months that contains the "standards": grits, red velvet cake, cole slaw, fried chicken. Make your own list. Even if you weren't born in the south or even in a border state I bet you could compile a dang good table of contents.

For example, the Butter Bean Hummus isn't something found in every southern cookbook, neither is Cornbread Crostini. I loved the idea of her Bacon-Wrapped Brussels sprouts, but didn't get around to trying those quick enough. When I got to entrees I was disappointed not to find any game meat recipes, especially since her father is a hunter. He brought home deer, doves, and rabbits. And the deer was made all sorts of ways, the doves simply stuffed with bacon. But those recipes... maybe they aren't for company.

When you think about hospitality, which is the theme of Miller's book, one pulls out the floral tablecloths, dainty china, and heirloom flatware. And so most of the entrees correspond: mini meat loaves, Grandma's Sunday roast, Inside-out chicken pot pies. 

As for desserts, Miller pushes all my buttons by including two of my all time favorites: bread pudding and rice pudding. Her renditions are White Chocolate Bread Pudding and Vanilla Rice Pudding. She rounds out the cookbook with drinks, rubs, dressings, a pimento cheese recipe, and a few other tidbits.

So one of the things Miller and I discussed was the effect of Katrina on her family and community. She's a native of Poplarville, Mississippi which lies about 75 miles northeast of New Orleans. I love New Orleans. If I could move anywhere the city is in my top three, easy, for a number of reasons. I love the people: their diversity, their resilience, and their joie de vivre, and I love the food, the culture, and the architecture. I don't love the heat, humidity, or stench, but perhaps I could learn to live with those things. 

Poplarville had no water. No electricity. The Millers' neighbors had nothing. Nobody had stocked up or prepared for the worst, except for her parents. And so their home became a refuge,a center of hospitality, a center of hope and comfort during Katrina's aftermath because her parents made sure that every person in need had food and water. What a blessing it is to serve others during a fearful, frustrating, and hopeless time, especially when you have the resources to share. 

 

Cauliflower Mac n Cheese

• 8 cups cauliflower florets (about 1 head) 
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 
• 1⁄2 teaspoon kosher salt 
• 1⁄2 teaspoon ground black pepper 
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 
• 1 1⁄2 cups fat-free milk 
• 1⁄2 cup heavy cream 
• 3⁄8 teaspoon table salt 
• 1 cup grated sharp Cheddar cheese (4 ounces)

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Toss the cauliflower florets in the oil on a baking sheet. Sprinkle with the kosher salt and 1⁄4 teaspoon of the pepper. Roast until fork-tender and lightly browned in spots, 25 to 30 minutes. Remove from the oven but leave the oven on and reduce the temperature to 350°F. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium skillet over medium heat. Stir in the flour and cook for 1 minute. Gradually whisk in the milk. Simmer over medium heat, stirring frequently, until thickened, 2 to 4 minutes. Whisk in the cream and cook for 5 minutes. Reduce the heat to low and stir in all but 2 tablespoons of the cheese, the table salt, and the remaining 1⁄4 teaspoon pepper. Stir until the cheese melts, then cook, stirring often, until thickened, 8 to 10 minutes. Place the cauliflower florets in an 8 x 8-inch glass baking dish or four 10-ounce ramekins. Pour the cheese sauce on top. Sprinkle the top of the cauliflower with the remaining 2 tablespoons cheese. Bake until the cheese is bubbling, 20 to 25 minutes. Serve warm. Serves 4

Credit info: Modern Hospitality credit: Reprinted from Modern Hospitality by Whitney Miller. Copyright (c) 2011 by Whitney Miller. By permission of Rodale, Inc.

sweet potato pancake brigade

Who knew that sweet potato pancakes could cause such consternation in the kitchen? Not I. The recipe for sweet potato pancakes in the Tupelo Honey cookbook I reviewed last week is misleading. It wasn't until I landed near the bottom that I read the part about letting the batter sit for an hour before you throw the batter into your frying pan.

My fault, completely. But I'm not one of those cooks who reads the recipe through before cooking. I'm one of the by-the-seat-of-her-pants types. Or in writing, when it comes to plot and planning, I'd be referred to the organic type.

I'm not the kind who gets her mis en place in place, either. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I compensate. 

A warning near the title about prep time would be nice. Otherwise, the sweet potato pancake was lovely in the mouth. Tasted like autumn crunching and crackling and warming the tongue. Didn't go to all the trouble of making the accompaniments like peach butter and pecan all the rest. I'm just not that fancy. I needed my sweet potato pancake now, Now, NOW. Forget the rest. I dressed mine with my favorite light corn syrup because I'm not a fan of maple anything.

Doubt I'd make it in Vermont a season at all.

So here's the real problem that they don't mention either. And maybe when you have professional griddle/cookstove, this isn't a problem. When you add sweet potatoes to batter, it changes the consistency to such an extent that your pancake makin', booty-shakin' flipping and cooking skills are thrown out of whack.

I prepped the batter and turned the cooking over to Ian. Our division of labor in the kitchen goes like this: As to breakfast foods he cooks pancakes and waffle cooking and I make the batter. When we eat french toast I make it all. I'm the Queen biscuit maker/baker as well. However, I let him make my eggs over-easy because he cooks them better than I can 2 out of 3 times.

He burned the first batch of sweet potato pancakes because he poured it batter into a dry non-stick skillet. Dur. Yeah. Told him to pour a bit of oil in there. He did, and still had a bit of trouble because the tell-tale bubbling he looks for that alerts him to flip it over didn't happen. 

The pancakes burnt on the outside but were uncooked on the inside. Perhaps it was our error. Or perhaps a bit of cooking instruction could have helped. Also, I mentioned to Ian that he should pour out 1/3 a cup of batter into the pan per pancake. It looked as if our pancakes were larger, perhaps.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Oh well. Better luck next time. 

Elsa watched from her standard seat at the gathering table in the center of our kitchen. I broiled toast for her. She won't touch pancakes or waffles. French toast, either. Picky, picky.