Sweet on sweet potatoes

Like pretty much anyone raised by a midwestern mom, I'm big on breakfast. Eggs, buckwheat pancakes, french toast, oatmeal--hearty, wholesome food. Best of all, though, are hashbrowns. Chunks of potatoes, preferably with onions and peppers, maybe some diced sausage. However, I've pretty much given up on white potatoes. Too much starch, high glycemic load--not enough upside to make up for the downside. I'll still enjoy a plate of country fries for breakfast after a bike hike or race, and of course mashed potatoes are still my all-time favorite special occasion side dish.

I've also grown up on sweet potatoes, baked in their skins and eaten simply with butter and salt. However, it wasn't until sweet potato fries became prevalent that I started thinking of that "other potato" as an alternative to (and tastier version of) the good ol' spud. I love a plate of sweet potato fries 'way beyond what I ever felt for regular white fries, but they still aren't all that healthy, with the extra starch coating given all fries to make them crisp up more easily. (By the way, boiled sweet potatoes supposedly have much lower glycemic load than baked, since the shorter cooking time reduces sugar conversion.)

This morning's breakfast hash is a great example of how a trusty regular can be so easily improved by this small switch--they cut more easily, cook faster so don't soak up the same amount of oil, and develop deeper sweeter flavor. Every bite of sweet potato, onion, zucchini, and parsley was simple and pure heaven.

Deep green, deep flavor

A blogger's obsession with kale inspired me to grab a bunch on my last trip to Stater Brothers. It's such a beautiful green but I have tended to think of it just as the frilly but indestructible filler wedged between bowls in a cafeteria salad bar.

It's Friday, and a late afternoon run delivered me home with a hungry tummy and less patience than I normally have for making the meal that starts out my weekend. I just wanted supper!

First thing, get some pasta boiling. Whole wheat, something that'll stick to my ribs.

Then, saute up some onion, garlic, and mushrooms--a base for the kale, just because eating kale after a five-mile run seems like what one ought to do. I'd forgotten how long kale takes to cook, so when it wasn't softening up fast enough, even though I'd sliced out the ribs and chopped it fairly small, I poured in a little pasta water and slapped a lid on the frying pan (cast iron, of course!).

Finishing touches included dried basil, a few pepper flakes, and my favorite chopped walnuts.

When I sprinkled parmesan on the dish and dug in, I was just expecting a forkful of healthy, satisfying pasta. What surprised me was how complex and charming the flavor profile was. Layers of nutty--the expected flavor from the wheat pasta and the walnuts, enhanced by unexpected nuttiness from the kale. Now I understand that blogger's obsession with it, and am now on my own dark green odyssey.

Can't leave a good thing alone

As you know from earlier posts, I have the perfect pie crust recipe. Never-fail, turns out exactly the same every time. So how could I end up with anything less than perfect pie?

I blame the low-sugar, no-white flour, mostly vegan culinary journey I'm taking this summer, trying to get my body in the best shape I can for some upcoming distance running challenges (some of the greatest American distance athletes, such as ultramarathoner Scott Jurek and pro cycling stud David Zabriskie are vegan. Ergo my foray into falafel burgers). I haven't thought about white flour for quite a while, but it didn't occur to me that I wouldn't have any in stock when the 4th of July came around--a day that always calls for apple pie. I've got my butter and crisco chilling, water and vodka all icy, and no white flour. But I do have whole grain pastry flour--it being pastry flour should make up for not being refined, right?

Wrong. I ended up with a soggy, squishy mass of dough that would barely shape into crust. In the end it tasted quite good, but what a difficult mess! The fact that it was quite healthy (aside from all that lovely butter and crisco) was my only consolation. Moral of this story: when you're baking, don't mess around with ingredients. Head out the door, get that white flour, and do it right.

To make up for my uncertainty with the pie crust, I put extra effort into the filling. That's what's lovely about pie filling--it's more like cooking (which I love) than baking (which always challenges me) in that ingredients are flexible and can always be messed with.

I did take care with the size and shape of the apple pieces for optimal texture. Since I still didn't have white flour, I used soy flour as my thickener instead, and it worked beautifully--I think I'll stick with it for this purpose. To complement the whole grain crust, I increased the proportion of brown sugar, using very little white. I tossed in a few splashes of vanilla extract, and orange juice instead of lemon, relying on a little rice vinegar to provide an acidic kick. Zesting the orange peel pumped up the citrus aspects, and then to top it all off, along with the usual cinnamon, dash of salt and splashes of tabasco, on impulse I threw in fresh-cracked black pepper. Even though sampling the filling mixture didn't give me a clear idea of the final outcome, I trusted that baking would develop and draw these ingredients into harmony--which is exactly what happened. It was apple pie, yes, but apple on steroids. You might wonder what new or ancient variety, what heirloom apples from what special farmers' market nestled between those ugly (but tasty) brown crusts? Certainly not those one-note standbys, Granny Smiths. That's the magic of orange zest and rice vinegar and vanilla and especially (I believe) cracked black pepper.

From now on, not only will I always mince jalapeno into my strawberry jam, but never forget to include the cracked black pepper in my apple pie.

Falafel Burgers

On a recent stay in Santa Barbara, I discovered the joy of falafel burgers at a place called The Habit. With a basket of sweet potato fries on the side, I was in heaven. It was one of those meals that you savor as you eat, and then again in memory.

My brother Doug teaches cooking and healthy lifestyle classes with his wife Patricia. He's always looking for a better veggie burger recipe, and when I heard an NPR interview with a chef who'd devoted a whole cookbook to the topic, I immediately thought of Doug, hopped on Amazon, and ordered a copy for his birthday. I got myself a copy as well, but let it sit on the shelf until that happy meal at The Habit. Suddenly, I was all about digging into Lukas Volger's Veggie Burgers Every Which Way.

Sure enough, there was a falafel burger recipe. I've made it twice already in the past week, even though there are so many other enticing burgers that I ought to branch out. However, it's fun to really learn a recipe, go to school on it. The burgers were tasty the first time, but I wanted to improve my results. There are things I like better about my second try, but others that I preferred about my first. I'm definitely giving this recipe a few more rounds along with sampling other burgers from the book. It's not like the recipes are so complicated, but having my best version of something makes me happy.

What made the second try a little more complicated was my inattention at the start--I soaked double the amount of chickpeas, then decided to simply double the whole recipe rather than waste the rehydrated peas. My food processor isn't big enough to handle so much volume, and working in stages got in the way of attaining an ideal texture. However, the ingredients were better. This time, I had cumin seeds--last time I'd settled for ground cumin. The recipe calls for thickening (only if necessary) with a little chickpea flour; so far I haven't located any. The first go round I used whole wheat, this time it was soy flour, just to be different. Next I'll try it without the flour--the mixture seems so loose and wet when forming the patties, but baking dries it out quite a bit, and it should still hold together, not crumble, even without the help of an extra binding agent.

I also tossed in a fat handful each of chia and flax seeds in honor of ultramarathoner (and vegan foodie) Scott Jurek, whose Eat & Run not only offers great nutrition advice but concludes each chapter with an enticing recipe.

Next time I'll be patient and grind the flax seeds first--their crunch was a little too assertive, and the body can't absorb as many nutrients from whole seeds. They aren't all all necessary to the recipe, but it's always good to find ways to incorporate flax into one's diet, particularly for runners (and women--especially peri- or post-menopausal).

Today I stacked the burger with some tzatziki-inspired cucumbers, fresh tomatoes, and lightly wilted purple kale. I thinly sliced the cucumbers and onions, sprinkled them with salt, pepper, dried mint, and lemon juice, and mashed them into plain Greek yogurt.

Even though handling so much falafel mixture was a pain, I'm not sorry to have 11 more burgers stashed in the freezer. My experience with the first batch is that the flavor develops even more over the next 24 hours, and the patties heat up beautifully in the microwave without affecting texture.

Lukas Volger shares many of his recipes on his website: www.lukasvolger.com, although this one isn't there. It's best to just buy his wonderful cookbook, but if you want to try the burger, another blogger did post the recipe, along with her tips: www.madriverkitchen.com/2011/04/baked-falafel-burger-with-tzatziki.html

I'll add to the post as I work on the recipe, but it's all about tweaking my rendition of it, not the recipe itself, which is simply wonderful and easy to produce (so long as you don't double the chickpeas and decide to go ahead and run with it).

Too much of a good thing can be great

Buckwheat and Blueberries and Bananas and Walnuts Oh My! It's a rare event, but for some reason or other I missed breakfast. Lunch hit the spot but by the evening I was a hungry hungry gal. And I still hadn't had breakfast, my favorite meal of the day.

Time for pancakes. I love oatmeal pancakes, but when I'm this hungry, it's all about the buckwheat. Bob's Red Mill mix. They don't make the prettiest cakes--not like the beautiful fluffy circles you see at Denny's or IHOP. Also, by the time I'm done adding all my extras, they're downright lumpy and misshapen--and yummy and healthy and oh, so satisfying. No bacon or sausage on the side necessary.

Most people keep their buckwheat pancakes simple, no add-ins, just a little butter and syrup on top. When you consider how much buckwheat offers all on its own, this is understandable. Buckwheat isn't wheat (it's actually related to rhubard and is gluten-free). It has fewer calories than wheat but more protein and fiber, and is chock full of vitamins and minerals. For most, its rich flavor calls for a straightforward treatment. That way, there's still room on the palate for the traditional sides--a couple of strips of bacon, a little fresh fruit.

I can't leave well enough alone. Any pancake is better with blueberries, or banana, or chopped nuts. And when it's just me eating, I throw it all in. Too much? (nah!) of a good thing is just right.

I always have a stash of these ingredients in the freezer. When fresh bananas are perfect for eating, they're too firm and not sweet enough for cooking. If one manages to stay in the fruit bowl long enough to pass the point of ripeness, I pop it in the freezer; thawed, it becomes fragrant banana puree with barely the touch of a fork. With the buckwheat batter, I probably should stick to half a banana, especially when it's not the only extra. My pancakes would spread out more uniformly on the griddle. But there sits the rest of that banana, begging to be included, and anyway the theme of this recipe is Too Much, so why not?

Because of their fat content, walnuts seem to keep better in the freezer. I love them in everything (cf. my fridgeluck pasta entry from last September) so I make sure never to run low. A generous handful goes in with the banana puree. I don't add the blueberries until right before cooking, otherwise they freeze to one another and pile up when spooned on the griddle. I add them right out of the freezer--if they thaw at all they water down the batter. Some people sprinkle the blueberries onto the batter after it's on the griddle--you get prettier, more uniform shapes, but the berries can burn when the pancakes are flipped since they have no batter to insulate them from the hot surface.

Even though these pancakes, made with extra-flavorful buckwheat flour and crammed with too many add-ins, are already oh-so-flavorful, I'm not done. Maybe it's the German in me, but rather than maple syrup and butter, I've always preferred sour cream and jam on my pancakes. Kind of blintz-ish. It's been a long time since I've kept sour cream in the fridge, however, because what I love even more these days is Fage Greek yogurt. Even the nonfat version is naturally thick and creamy. The flavor is smooth and just the right amount of sour. Add a touch of honey, and it's just the right amount of--well, not sweet, but fragrant and fresh.

Another nice thing about all that yogurt is that it transforms bumpy lumpy pancakes into something a little more artistically appealing. Spoon a little apricot jam on top, and you have yourself quite a Continental supper.

The leftover pancakes keep very well in the fridge, separated by a little wax paper. Pop one or two in the toaster and you have a breakfast that will keep you all morning, or power you through a hilly 10K.

Buckwheat Blueberry Banana Walnut Pancakes--ugly, yummy, low-fat, high fiber, high protein, super-nutritious, super-easy, and downright decadent--too much of a good thing is exactly the right amount of everything.

Eat real food

In yesterday's San Bernardino Sun a consumer reporter recommended saving money by buying a whole freezerful of beef before prices rose. That same day the LA Times referenced, again, the "pink slime" additive found in so much ground beef without any special labeling required. Just below that was a link to the study noting that any amount of red meat shortens a person's expected life span (and it doesn't seem to matter whether it's the quality stuff worth packing away in a freezer or the 2 for 99 cents burgers from am/pm). Ewwww.

I understand the allure of meaty, hearty meals. It's just that you don't need a butcher to get you there. That's why god gave us beans and herbs and all sorts of other lovely ingredients. The other day my friend Maryanne reminded me of Michael Pollan's most basic rule: Eat real food. Mostly plants.

We were at our favorite produce stand, browsing among the lettuces. I had a crockpot of cranberry beans simmering at home (they are very similar to pintos, just a little larger and sweeter, and cook a bit faster) and, as I surveyed all the options for turning them into a delicious meal, I wondered why anyone would be offended by Pollan's love of actual, authentic food. You'd be amazed at the names he gets called: Food Nazi is one of the kinder ones.

I came home with not only the Fairytale Pumpkin whose story has yet to turn magical (see earlier post), but also a box of good ol' fashioned local produce that is finding its way into my delicious

happily ever after. This morning I sauteed a little onion, garlic, anaheim chile, and orange bell pepper together, ladled in some of the cranberry beans, and then stepped outside for a few leaves of fresh sage. The earthiness of the sage filled out all the other flavors, and in less time than it takes to brown a Jimmy Dean sausage I had a beautiful plate of that best of all country breakfasts. No artery-clogging bacon needed, and no greasy skillet to scrub out later. It's not just that I want to eat good food that keeps me healthy, it's that this was the yummiest option out there in breakfastland.

Kitchen Herbs

Meryl Streep is my all-time favorite actress. Her class and intelligence can turn a middling film like "The Iron Lady" into compelling drama. Even with her charisma and earthy chemistry with Alec Baldwin, however, I'd have found "It's Complicated" a somewhat forgettable movie, except for one aspect: Garden Porn. Every scene in that kitchen garden sent waves of lust and envy washing over me. I read an article revealing the secrets behind the perfection, and while the produce was real, it was grown in greenhouses and only perfect plants made it into the garden (and even that wasn't enough--those gorgeous tomatoes were wired to the vines). Just like fake breasts don't seem to deter men's fantasies, the artificial perfection of those cabbage rows didn't cool my flames one bit.

I don't even have time for a PG-rated garden of my own right now. Fortunately, I live where it's easy to find lots of fresh produce at farmer's markets and stands. With real estate in a slump, investors are holding on to open land and farming is a good way to catch some extra tax breaks while doing so. I make strawberry jam from berries grown and sold a mile from here on a couple of acres tucked in between housing developments.

The one thing that truly needs to come "fresh off the vine" is fresh herbs. Because they don't keep well they're expensive at the market, so growing your own isn't just a culinary advantage, it makes economic sense as well. Fortunately, this takes no extra time or effort on your part. I've devoted a corner of a planter right next to my front door to rosemary and several varieties of thyme and sage, and oregano grows among the flagstones next to the stoop. These herbs need so little attention--non-culinary versions of them all show up throughout my low-water landscaping (and even those are edible, just a little sturdier). The hose is right next to the kitchen herbs so it's easy to spritz them regularly but if I get busy and miss even a week or two they hang right in there.

Most importantly, when I'm cooking all I have to do is pop out the door with a pair of scissors and snip all the freshness required to make a dish memorable.