Some kids get smoothies year-round, but Mama likes them in the summer when the fruit is fresh and ripe. But even though the weather’s been cool off and on lately, Mama’s decided smoothie season has begun. At least for me. She tells me she used to make a big blender of smoothie for her and Papa, but now she just uses a cup and this funny little machine she calls a hand blender. She lets me help hold it when it goes whirrrrr! and before I know it all the chunks of pineapple, banana, and mango are blended with the yogurt and coconut milk, and it’s all smooth and creamy.
Smooth + creamy = smoothie?!
Sometimes Mama adds a bit of local honey. Other times, she adds cinnamon or cardamom. Today Mama added something called flax. Not bad. Mama says smoothies are really good for me. I love everything that goes into them, so what’s not to like? The part about a smoothie I like the most is that I can drink it with a straw, and I can take it with me (though I’m not supposed to leave the kitchen with it).
Love, Jude
This is my special smoothie cup. It's been getting a lot of use lately.
Boy, this daycare thing is really getting in the way of my blogging. Between all the playing with cars and the taking of 2-hour naps, I can’t get a word in. Sigh… It’s not like I haven’t been eating. Take, for example, what Mama sends with me to daycare. She found out some of the typical foods they feed us for lunch and decided to make her own versions for me to eat. One thing is cheesy macaroni, which I eat much better at Miss Rose’s house than I do at home. (Don’t tell Mama.)
Then there’s the fish sticks and chicken nuggets. Mama says she wrestled with this one because she feels “chicken” nuggets are the go-to choice of not just parents, but of restaurants everywhere. Have a kid? Give him a nugget. (She’s judging restaurants here, not parents.) She doesn’t want me to get used to this sort of “cuisine,” and she worries about what’s actually in said nuggets. Her compromise: control everything.
Unfortunately, we haven’t had a lot of time to cook together lately, so Mama made these while I slept. I can only share her recipe, but note that I did not witness the making-of moments. I can, however, attest to their yumminess.
Love, Jude
Chicken Nuggets/Fish Sticks
1 cup (more or less) flour (whatever you have on hand)
1 egg, lightly beaten (add a splash of milk, if you like)
1 cup (more or less) breadcrumbs (make your own with the heels of loaves and a food processor, or use the canned stuff)
1–3 chicken breasts or 1–2 firm white fish fillets (haddock, flounder, cod), cut into appropriate-size pieces
Coconut oil for frying
Sea salt and pepper for seasoning
First things first: Season everything! Set the flour, egg, and breadcrumbs in separate shallow containers, and add salt & pepper to each one. Salt and pepper your chicken or fish, too. Melt about a tablespoon of coconut oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Toss a few pieces of chicken (or fish) into the flour and toss them to coat. Then dip them into the egg, coating entirely. Then toss them into the breadcrumbs, making sure they’re completely covered. Set onto a clean plate while the oil heats and you do a couple more; this also gives the coating some time to adhere. (If you do all this with one hand, it keeps your other hand clean to add more flour or breadcrumbs, if needed, or to scratch your nose.) When the oil is hot, add the pieces, one by one, until the bottom of the pan is covered, but the pieces aren’t touching. (You need to give them space.) Coconut oil burns quickly, so as the pan starts to dry, don’t be stingy about adding more. (It’s good for babies!) When the pieces are dark golden on one side, turn them over, silly, and cook the other. Remove them to a paper towel–lined plate while you cook the rest. Give one to a non-vegetarian in the house to be sure they’re cooked through. If you make lots, you can freeze some for later. Just reheat and serve.
Notes: I know Mama would say, if you’re doing chicken and fish at the same time, to cook two entirely separate batches. Don’t use any of the chickeny flour/egg/breadcrumbs for the fish. She would also point out that all of these ingredients are organic/free-range/wild caught, but I think you know that by now.
By now, it’s no secret that I love eggs. I’ll take them any way I can get them. But Mama says people are a little afraid of soufflés because they have a reputation for being temperamental [insert joke about soufflés being like Mama here]. Kidding aside, Mama showed me that there’s nothing to fear about this puffy little delicacy whose name comes from the French word for “blow.” I blow on my food when it’s hot, and just yesterday I blew my first bubbles outside, so I’m excited to learn how to make these.
First, Mama said we have to make a “roo.” We’ve made this before by melting butter in a saucepan, then whisking in flour until it’s all cooked and bubbly. Then we add milk. Mama says some people say to use cold milk, while others say to use hot milk. She “splits the difference” by using milk that’s been taken out of the fridge for a little while, “just to take the chill off.” Once the milk’s added to the saucepan, we stir and stir until it thickens. (Well, Mama took care of the stirring because it was very hot.) She said this is what’s called a béchamel, but it looked like a white sauce to me.
When butter’s all foamy, add the flour all at once and start whisking.
This is how the white sauce will look once all the floury clumps are worked in to the milk.
This next part is where it starts to get a little scary. You have to separate your eggs. I don’t quite understand how sometimes I can crack the eggs and roll them around and the shell comes off, and other times, Mama cracks the egg and out comes a runny gloppy mess. But this is one of those times when Mama has to crack the eggs. She notes that the whites must be meticulously free of yolk, and because she doesn’t take her own advice to separate the eggs one at a time over a small bowl (and then dumping each white into a larger bowl), she creates an opportunity to show me how to remove errant yolk from the white: use the shell to scoop it out!
Now Mama sets aside the bowl of whites and sets the bowl of yolks on a damp dishcloth—she explains that it’s to keep the bowl from sliding when she “tempers” the yolks. (I thought this must be why soufflés are considered temperamental, but Mama says it’s how you bring hot and cold liquids together without ruining them.) She whisks the yolks to break them up, and then she pours a little of the hot white sauce into them, whisking the whole time. She adds a bit more sauce, still whisking, and keeps at this until all the sauce is in the yolks. Now you have your soufflé base. Mama says this is the time to add any flavors—crumbled cooked bacon, puréed or small-dice cooked veggies, cheese, fruit, finely ground nuts, chocolate—but we’re keeping it plain today.
Mama notes that here’s a good place to stop, if you have to. If you’re making soufflés for breakfast the next day or for dessert later on, this is where you should stop, put everything in the fridge, then take it out about a half an hour before you want to resume cooking—to “take the chill off.” That’s when you should turn on your oven, too. But before finishing the recipe, there’s one more thing to be done: prepare the ramekins. I didn’t know these could be used in the oven or for food other than mine. Mama always used to feed me from these…until I discovered that they break into so many pieces when they hit the floor. (I’m just learning about gravity, you know.) Brush melted butter all around the inside of each ramekin (or other small ovenproof dish), then dust each with either parmesan cheese (if savory) or sugar (if sweet). (Mama thinks finely chopped nuts might work, too.) This step, Mama says, gives the soufflé something to grab onto as it climbs up the ramekin. Mama set the prepared ramekins on a baking sheet.
These are sugared.
Next, Mama turned her attention to the egg whites. She plugged in the mixer and began to beat them until they formed soft peaks.
See how the “peak” flops over?
Then she folded the whites into the yolk mixture, being careful to not overmix—she explained that if she stirred too vigorously, she could deflate the whites, which would not bode well for the soufflés. Mama says that as soon as the whites are folded in, it’s time to pour the mixture into the prepared ramekins. Fill them nearly to the top (most ramekins have an inner rim that’s a good marking spot). She sprinkled a bit more parmesan on top and popped them in the oven.
Then we waited. Mama said we may not open the oven to check on them, otherwise they’ll deflat like a balloon. So when the time was up, we turned on the oven light to take a peek. Those soufflés had puffed up like my grandma’s hairdo and were golden brown. Mama called them gorgeous. The real test was taking them out of the oven… and they held! They stayed puffy until we dug in. They were eggy, and they tasted as soft and fluffy as they looked. I could eat these all day.
Love, Jude
Basic Soufflés
2 Tbsp butter
3 Tbsp flour
1 cup whole milk or half-and-half
4 eggs, separated
Salt and pepper, to taste
1/4 tsp nutmeg (optional)
Melted butter (about 2 Tbsp)
Grated parmesan cheese (or sugar, if making a dessert soufflé) (about 2 Tbsp)
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Brush six 6-ounce ramekins with melted butter, then dust with parmesan cheese (or sugar). Set aside on a baking sheet. Over medium heat, melt the 2 tablespoons butter in a medium saucepan, then add the flour, and cook, whisking constantly, until the flour is incorporated and the mixture begins to bubble, 1–2 minutes. Slowly add the milk and continue to whisk, working out any clumps. Then whisk occasionally until the mixture is hot and begins to thicken, 5–10 minutes. Do not let the mixture boil. Remove from heat and add the salt, pepper, and nutmeg.
Whisking constantly, pour a small amount of the milk mixture into the yolks. Add a bit more milk, continuing to whisk. Then add the remaining milk mixture to the bowl and whisk thoroughly. If adding flavors or cheese, do so now.
Beat the egg whites with a hand mixer on high speed until soft peaks form. Then immediately and carefully fold in to the yolk mixture in three additions. Immediately pour the mixture into the prepared ramekins, up until the inner line. Wipe the rims of any errant mixture. Sprinkle with additional parmesan, if desired.
Bake for 17–18 minutes in the center of the oven, until puffed and golden. The centers should look set and firm. Resist the urge to open the oven to check on them, but when you do take them out, a toothpick inserted into the center should come out clean. Serve immediately.
Yield: 6 soufflés
Note: Mama says it’s not a bad idea to add an additional yolk to the base if you’re going to be adding a lot of stuff to the soufflé; the extra yolk will make the base stronger. Try adding up to ½ cup shredded cheese and either ½ cup vegetable puree or 1/3 cup small-diced cooked vegetables or crumbled cooked bacon to the base (before folding in the egg whites). Some ideas: butternut squash-gruyere-paprika; onion-roasted pepper-rosemary-spinach; artichoke-red pepper-gruyere-thyme; red pepper-fennel-onion; or try blue cheese-walnuts by substituting finely ground walnuts for the parmesan cheese.
Variation: To make a chocolaty soufflé, whisk in 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder and 1/2 cup sugar to the finished white sauce. After the mixture is tempered into the egg yolks, add 1 tsp vanilla extract. Add 1/4 cup sugar to the egg whites as they’re being whipped to soft peaks. Proceed with the rest of the recipe, but be sure to sugar your ramekins.
Soufflés will fall a little bit (cracking the tops) once they’re taken out of the oven, but they really should remain fairly puffy.
Saturday’s not usually pancake day, but when Mama gets a craving, she gets a craving. And, since she had buttermilk in the fridge from the soda bread, she thought today was as good as any for some pancakes.
Pancakes are pretty simple. Mama said she learned to make them when she was just a little kid using something called a pancake mix (but isn’t that what we’re doing now?). First, she mixed together all the dry ingredients. That’s my favorite part.
Here I am, moments after I helped mix the dry ingredients. Mama knows I like to throw things, and flour is no exception.
Then she mixed together the wet, and added the wet stuff to the dry. That’s it! Mama says she might’ve made the pancakes lighter by separating the eggs and mixing the yolks into the batter, whipping the whites until soft peaks, and then folding them into the batter. “But who wants to dirty that many dishes?” she said.
Besides, we thought these flapjacks were nice and puffy as they were. In fact, they were almost crispy on the outside, while the insides stayed fluffy and moist. Mama thinks it was the coconut oil. (My friends Ty and Tora’s mama told us about using coconut oil in the pan. Mama already adds it to a lot of my food, but she hadn’t cooked breakfast with it yet.)
Luckily for us, there are lots of pancakes left over. I wonder if Mama will take Grandma’s advice to freeze some of them, or if she’ll just eat them all herself.
Love, Jude
Pancakes
1 cup whole-wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 Tbsp sugar
3/4 tsp salt
A few dashes of cinnamon, to taste
5 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted
2 cups buttermilk (or other milk–coconut milk would be good)
2 eggs
Splash of vanilla extract
Splash of coconut extract
1 banana, mashed
Coconut oil (or canola oil), for cooking
In a medium bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, combine the melted butter and the buttermilk, then add the egg, whisking to break up the yolks. Add the extracts, then pour into the dry ingredients, whisking until well combined. Stir in the banana.
Heat a spoonful of coconut oil in a frying pan over medium heat until hot, then lower the heat a bit (coconut oil starts to smoke). Add spoonfuls of batter to the pan (a little under ¼ cup) and cook until the tops of the pancakes start to bubble. Flip and cook until done, about another minute more. Remove to a plate and keep warm in a 150–200°F oven (or just invert a plate over the stack). Continue making the rest of the batter into pancakes and serve with favorite toppings. (Mama likes grade B maple syrup, and she even let me have a little bit today.)
So… I started daycare this week. And because of that, I haven’t had a lot of time to blog, even though I’ve been eating all kinds of new foods. (I even napped today for 2 hours!) But since there’s so much to tell, I think I’ll just keep tonight simple and write about the spanikopita Mama made.
First, let me tell you that I’m down with spinach. Not everyone is. Even Mama and Papa can only handle it in small quantities. Mama had me eating it when I was quite young, in something she and Papa called “gruel.” She tells me it was steamed organic baby spinach, steamed organic pears, and a mango all pureed together until smooth. Sometimes she let me watch as the blender whirred it up, but mostly, she just gave me the good stuff. I think I must have eaten at least a little bit of gruel every day for a while there. So anyway, Mama wanted to make something that I was sure to eat, but also something that she and Papa would like, too.
She sauteed some scallions (isn’t that a funny word?), then added bunches and bunches of baby spinach, and covered it to cook it all down. In a separate bowl, she combined eggs, very fragrant dill, and lots and lots of feta cheese. I love feta; it’s so salty. While the spinach cooked, Mama took out the phyllo dough. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s dough, but it’s very thin—I could almost see right through it. Mama brushed a pie plate with olive oil, laid a sheet of dough in it, then added another sheet. She brushed it again, laid down another sheet. And then another. When the spinach was cooked—it sure shrinks!—she carefully added it to the eggs. You have to keep stirring it, Mama pointed out, otherwise the eggs will scramble. She poured the egg-spinach mixture into the pie plate, then started adding layers of phyllo again, carefully brushing each with olive oil before adding the next. (Melted butter is also acceptable, she noted, as is laying out the sheets of phyllo and rolling it up with the spinach like a log, rather than putting it in a pie plate.) She baked the spinach pie until it was golden, and the kitchen smelled so good.
I loved the egg in this. It really held the spinach in place and gave the whole thing a lovely custardlike texture. And of course eggs and feta go together better than peas and carrots, in my opinion. The phyllo wasn’t my favorite part (Mama felt it could’ve used butter rather than oil), but altogether, I ate two pieces! I even ate the steamed green beans that Mama served with it (and threw only one on the floor).
First naps, now dinner. I don’t know… this daycare thing is having quite an effect on me.
No, really, I am. Papa’s grandpap was Irish, so I don’t know what that makes me. (I’m just a baby—I can’t do that kind of math.) So Mama decided to treat us to some Irish fare for dinner. She had all the burners going, plus the oven, so there was a lot to take in.
First, she put a hunk of corned beef in a pot of water and set that to simmer with assorted spices. She would later add chopped cabbage and carrots.
Meanwhile, she started on the shepherd’s pie. First, she sautéed carrots, onion, and celery with salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce until the veggies began to soften. Then she added her faux meat, which just needed to be heated through. Sometimes Mama makes a beef shepherd’s pie for Papa, or she does it half-and-half, but since he had the corned beef tonight, she went for a full veggie pie. When the meat and veggies were all combined and hot, she spread them in the bottom of a pie plate. She poured some frozen corn on top of that. She didn’t have any peas—even though we planted some today!—otherwise, she would have added those, too. Meanwhile, she peeled and chopped a couple russet potatoes and boiled them in salted water until they softened. She told me that potatoes can be boiled with or without their skins, but chopping them definitely makes them cook faster. On the back burner, she heated a small saucepan of butter and buttermilk, which she happened to have because she was making soda bread. After the potatoes were cooked, she drained them, returned them to the pot, and mashed them with the hot milk and butter, which she told me keeps the potatoes from being lumpy. She spread the potatoes over the corn and popped the pie into the oven.
But not before she made Irish soda bread. She wanted a quick recipe, and boy did she find it. I’ve made bread with Mama before, and this recipe seemed more like scones to me. That’s how easy it was. We mixed a few ingredients, shaped it into a loaf, and into the oven it went. We couldn’t find dried currants, though, so we used raisins. I love raisins. Then Mama made honey butter to go with it. Then we just had to wait for it all to cook. (I helped Papa take down the storm windows. He let me use a screwdriver!)
Even Mama was a little surprised all this was done at the same time.
Sometimes I have a funny reaction to potatoes, and sometimes to corn, and sometimes even to carrots. Not funny-ha-ha, but rather funny-I-don’t-like-it. Not tonight, though. I thought the shepherd’s pie was really tasty. I even tried to feed myself with my own fork, but I became impatient with that. I didn’t have the corned beef, but Mama says I can have that for lunch tomorrow, even though she knows I don’t do leftovers. Papa declared it “delicious.” And the soda bread was soft on the inside and crunchy on the outside; it was yummy with the honey butter.
This shepherd’s pie was pretty good. Now, if only someone would explain to me what those shamrocks have to do with it…
I got down from my high chair, danced a jig to Flogging Molly, and went to bed with a full belly. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Love, Jude
Shepherd’s Pie
Canola oil (or other, favorite cooking oil)
2 carrots, peeled and diced small
2 stalks organic celery, diced small
½ onion, diced small
1–2 dashes Worcestershire sauce
Salt and pepper
1 package soy crumbles or other meat replacement (or 1 pound grass-fed ground beef)
½ package (8–12 oz.) frozen corn
½ package (8–12 oz.) frozen peas
2–3 large organic russet potatoes (or 4–6 red bliss potatoes), chopped large
4 Tbsp butter, melted (optional)
1/3–1/2 cup buttermilk, milk, or cream, heated (optional)
Preheat oven to 350°F (375° is okay, if you’re doing the soda bread at the same time).
Coat the bottom of a skillet with oil, then sauté the veggies until they begin to soften and caramelize. Season with W. sauce and s&p. Add the soy crumbles and heat through. (If using ground beef, sauté this first, breaking it up into small bits, until cooked through. Remove from the pan with a slotted spoon and cook the veggies in the remaining fat. Then combine it all before proceeding.) Place in a pie plate.
Top with corn and peas. (If omitting either corn or peas, use the full package of the other.)
Meanwhile, boil the potatoes in salted water until soft. Drain, return to the pot, then add melted butter and hot milk, if using. Season with s&p, if necessary, then spread over the corn & peas.
Bake, uncovered, for 40–60 minutes, until the potatoes start to brown. (You may dot the top with butter before baking, if desired.)
Note: Mama said if you really don’t want to cook the carrots, onion, and celery, you can add a packet of onion soup mix to the soy crumbles or ground beef and omit the W. sauce and s&p. Regarding organic produce, Mama tells me something called the Environmental Working Group publishes an annual list on the worst pesticide offenders. Celery is #2, and potatoes are #9. Onions, sweet corn, and peas are #s 1, 2, and 6, respectively, on the list of foods that are okay to buy nonorganic (if you really wanted to).
That’s what my cousins call me. When Mama and I visited them last summer (my first time on an airplane!), they thought it was both funny and sad that mama doesn’t give me much sugar to eat. Instead of fishy-shaped crackers and animal-shaped cookies, I get organic puffs. Sometimes Mama buys the banana ones, but when we were in Wisconsin, she happened to buy the kale kind. And we haven’t heard the end of it since.
For the record, I like kale puffs. I like all puffs. They were nice to eat before I had any teeth because they dissolved in my mouth, and they helped me hone my pincer grasp—something every baby needs to learn how to do. I didn’t really eat them as a snack, though. Instead, Mama would put a few puffs in a snacking cup for me when I started getting antsy about my car seat. “If you want puffs, you have to get in your car seat,” she still says. And because she worries that I might choke while she’s driving, she still gives me puffs, even though I now have four molars.
But back to my cousins. Mama says we come from a long line of good bakers, where you couldn’t visit someone without having several sweet options to nosh on. It’s something everyone comes to expect. Grandma always—always—has a pie or cookies or quick breads in the oven. It was she who taught Mama to take cookies out of the oven a bit early and let them finish baking on the cookie sheet to make them crisp on the edges while soft in the middle. (Apparently, this is a good thing, though I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never had a cookie.)
So everyone was a little surprised that Mama doesn’t feed me sugar—and more than a little repulsed by the idea of kale puffs. The cousins kept patting my head, saying things like, “Aww, poor baby…” Grandma always made fancy cakes for everyone’s birthdays (except for Uncle Scotty, who gets a coconut cream pie and a lemon meringue pie). Even though it was a few weeks before my birthday, Grandma wanted to make me a cake. She had a challenge ahead of her, as I still wasn’t up to whole eggs yet, and there was the whole sugar thing to contend with.
Well, Grandma took the challenge by storm. She made a banana cake using applesauce instead of eggs and brown sugar instead of white—and Mama convinced her that she didn’t even need all of what was called for in the recipe. She made plain whipped cream for the “icing,” which I dutifully smashed. But nobody wanted to try the cake… not right away, anyway. The cousins wouldn’t touch it, but my GeeGee and Aunt Karen liked it. And I thought it was pretty good too.
I made a pretty good mess of my birthday cake.
Mama would want me to point out that she hasn’t banned all sugar. I do get some, sometimes. She baked gingerbread biscotti at Christmas, which turned out to be the perfect teething biscuits—they’re hard, they dissolve when wet, and they’re minimally sweetened. She also makes various kinds of scones, which have hardly any sugar in them to begin with, and she sets aside a few for me that she doesn’t dust with sugar before baking. And she makes a variety of fruit-filled muffins with lower-than-called-for amounts of sugar, and usually she substitutes brown sugar (but not always whole-wheat flour). I eat lots of sweet potatoes. I don’t drink juice, even watered down, but I eat a lot of fruit. We skip pre-made yogurt, and instead make fruit smoothies with the plain stuff. But don’t think I’m immune to sugar. I can totally tell the difference when Mama tries to substitute something like puffed kamut in my snacking cup. She muses that if she had started with the kamut, rather than with the puffs, I might not have minded the difference, but they’re just too bland for me.
This is the first time I tried a marshmallow--Mama made it. It was squishy-soft and very sweet. I had just a couple baby bites.
So why have sugar at all? Why does Mama bother baking all these goodies if she has to alter recipes for me (or give me just a nibble, if she makes it full-fledged)? She can’t help herself, for one thing. She feels kids should experience the joy of stirring flour and eggs and oil—and yes, sugar—in a bowl, putting it in the oven, and as if by magic, taking out something completely transformed and delicious. I have to say, I like when she lets me help her. (That flour really flies far and gets all over the place!) Mama’s also careful of when she gives me any sort of sweet treat—not when I’m being fussy, and usually when I’ve already eaten something sensible. And she would also say it’s a “control thing.” She likes to be in control of the amount of sugar I put into my body, so she doesn’t accept the lollipop from the bank teller or the cookie from the nice lady at the bakery. She feels I have plenty of time to eat all the sugar I’ll ever want, so why rush it? She believes in real, whole food–which includes the occasional homemade treat. And one mini zucchini muffin is so much better than that box of Girl Scout cookies she has hiding in the cupboard, wouldn’t you agree?
Love, Jude
For Mama's chocolate cheesecake, she let me taste the batter before she added the eggs. Boy, was that good! I don't think I've ever had chocolate before (or since).
Pumpkin Muffins
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole-wheat flour
1½ tsp baking soda
1½ tsp cinnamon
¾ tsp salt
½ tsp nutmeg
½ tsp ground ginger
½ tsp allspice
½ tsp cloves
2 cups cooked pumpkin (from a pumpkin that was roasted; may also use a 15-oz can of pumpkin puree)
¾ cup firmly packed brown sugar
3 large eggs
½ cup canola oil (use ¾ cup if you use solid pack pumpkin, rather than pureed)
1 cup raisins or dried cranberries (optional)
Preheat oven to 350°. Line a muffin tin with cupcake liners or spray liberally with cooking spray.
Whisk together the flours, soda, and spices in a medium bowl. In a large bowl, whisk together the pumpkin, brown sugar, eggs, and oil. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and stir to combine. Add the raisins or cranberries, if using. Scoop the batter into the prepared tins.
Bake mini-muffins for about 15 minutes, regular muffins about 18 minutes. (They should feel firm, yet spongy, to the touch; or a toothpick inserted into the center should come out clean.) Cool in the pan a few minutes, then remove to a wire rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight container. These also freeze well.
Yield: 1 dozen regular muffins + 1 dozen minis
Note: Mama says if you use an ice-cream scoop to put the batter into the tins, it’s not only faster, but your muffins will turn out to be the same size. Mama also says roasting a pumpkin is almost as easy as roasting a squash—just cut it, scoop out the seeds, and bake it in a pan with a little water until it’s soft. Just don’t use “face” pumpkins (the kind you’d use for jack-o-lanterns).
Poor Mama. She’s had a lot of “Misses” of late and has had to resort to her backup supply of purees and other mashed foods. Maybe she’s letting me graze too much during the day on things like fruit, cheese, and organic cereals. Or maybe I’m just being a picky baby.
But this weekend she made something that surprised even me. Eggplant has been hit or miss. “Baby” ganoush—miss. Ratatouille—hit. Last night she sliced a few eggplants, sprayed them with olive oil, and grilled theminside (even though it was gorgeous outside). While the slices cooked, she made a pesto to spread on them, telling me she’d have to substitute almonds for the pine nuts she was sure she had. She then made a filling with shredded mozzarella, tomato sauce, golden raisins, and some of the cooked eggplant chopped up. (She also cut up some kalamata olives for herself and me, for “on the side,” since Papa does not like them one bit.) She placed a bit of filling on one end of each slice of eggplant, rolled it up, and put each roll in a baking dish that had a little bit of sauce in it. Then she topped it all with more sauce, sprinkled more cheese over it, then baked it until the cheese turned golden. On the side, she made orzo, then grilled a pork chop for Papa.
I thought the eggplant was tender and flavorful, and the orzo was so much more pleasing in texture than the brown rice Mama usually serves. Even Papa, who’s not always a fan of eggplant either, enjoyed it (though he said the olives threatened to “contaminate” the whole dish). What was even more of a surprise was that I ate the leftovers for lunch today, and I usually cannot abide leftovers. Live and learn.
Love, Jude
Mama’s Pesto
(even Mama couldn’t come up with a more approximate recipe for this one—she just keeps tasting it until she gets it right)
[UPDATE: Mama finally sat down and drew up a recipe, which you can find here.]
About 1 cup loosely packed fresh basil leaves, rinsed and torn or cut chiffonade
A couple tablespoons pine nuts or other favorite nut, toasted or not
A couple tablespoons freshly grated parmesan cheese
Juice of half a lemon, or so
1 clove garlic, roughly chopped (or more if you really like garlic)
Salt and pepper, to taste
Good extra-virgin olive oil, as needed
Place all the ingredients in a food processor and pulse or blend until a paste forms. Stream in enough olive oil to give it body. The pesto should be intensely flavored, so that a little goes a long way. Adjust the tastes as you go along—you can always add more, but you can’t take away.
Note: Mama advises against toasting the nuts if you’re going to be baking the pesto, as in the eggplant dish, above. She also says that you don’t have to use basil—spinach, parsley, and arugula all work just as well.
I’ve had a busy week. (Plus, Mama was sick, and I had an icky rash all over.) Mama has tried feeding me everything but the kitchen sink—and I love to play in the sink.
One day, she made me hummus. She claims I used to eat it when I was a younger baby, but I’m not so sure. It’s way garlicky. And because she cooked the chickpeas herself, instead of opening a can, she decided to roast a few before pureeing the rest into hummus. They became crispy but were still kind of soft. I thought they were terrible, but Mama gobbled them up. Meanwhile, she put the garbanzos (isn’t that a funny word?) in the food processor, squeezed in a lemon (and let me suck on the rind), plopped in tahini (which she said is like peanut butter, except made with sesame seeds, but I didn’t think it tasted like peanut butter at all!), and added garlic, fresh parsley, and a couple other seasonings. Truth: I had a few bites, but I preferred the pita…with actual peanut butter.
Then Mama had the notion to make a wheat berry salad. Wheat berries. For dinner. Now I can’t say that it was all bad. She did make a walnut oil vinaigrette and added spinach, red pepper, peaches from the freezer that I helped pick last summer, and raisins. I just couldn’t get over the chewy texture of the wheat berries. Mama says they’re supposed to be that way, but I didn’t get very far beyond the “no-thank-you” bite. Wheat berries for dinner? No thank you!
Papa took a turn with a shrimp scampi he baked in the oven. He showed me how he “butterflies” shrimp. I once went to a butterfly hatchery, but I didn’t know there were shrimp butterflies! Then Papa chopped lots of shallots and herbs and smooshed them with a lot of butter. I like butter. Mama made rice, and I have to admit this was one tasty dish. Mama said it was too bad I decided to like this one because she would have liked some more. You and me both, Mama.
Papa did a pretty good job and used all that butter on the rice. How bad could that be?
I think my folks were tired of the kitchen scene by the end of the week because they took me out for Indian food on Sunday. There were gold elephants! On the walls! And sparkly pictures with even more elephants! And music I’ve never heard before! Mama’s not so bad at Indian food herself (maybe she’ll make naan again soon, so I can tell you all about it), but she doesn’t make all the different things the way this place does. She and Papa thought I’d gobble up everything, but they were wrong. Mama, though—that smart cookie—ordered me a mango lassi. She said it was like a smoothie, but it didn’t matter. It was delicious, and I got to drink it with a big-boy straw. Mama traded me a sip of the lassi for every bite of mutter paneer, aalo gobi, and channa saag I ate. It was worth it. Then I finished the meal with rus malai and kheer (“Who doesn’t like kheer?” Mama and Papa asked). All in all, I’d say it was a good meal…and not too much ended up on the restaurant floor. Did I mention the elephants?
Maybe this week will be different. But I wouldn’t bet on it.
Ever since I was about 9 months old, I’ve eaten a farm-fresh egg for breakfast. It started out as a soft-boiled egg yolk, and now it’s a nice scrambled egg that I can feed myself. Sometimes Mama puts cheese on it, sometimes even salsa (¿huevos rancheros, anyone?). Mama’s eggs are my favorite because she makes them soft and fluffy. She says the secret is taking them out of the pan before they’re fully cooked.
This morning I didn’t feel like eating my egg (though the dog sure appreciated it), so Mama decided on eggs for lunch. And this time, she did something I’ve never seen before. She put them in a pot of water and put them on the stove. Once the water started boiling, she turned off the heat, covered the pot, and let them sit about 10 minutes. Then she ran the eggs under cold water in the sink.
Then Mama showed me how to crack ’em: She knocked one on the counter, rolled it under her palm, then peeled the shell right off! Needless to say, I was hooked on this whole cracking business. We peeled four eggs, and then Mama mashed them with a fork. She added some mayonnaise (she told me I was too young for the homemade kind) and Dijon mustard, a splash of vinegar, salt, pepper, and capers. She had her “egg salad” on toast, but I liked it right off the spoon. Good show, Mama.
Love, Jude
I love eggs so much I couldn’t wait for them to be mashed.
Egg Salad*
4 hard-boiled eggs, mashed
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tsp Dijon mustard
Splash of vinegar
Salt & pepper, to taste
Capers (optional)
Dill (optional)
Mix the eggs, mayo, mustard, vinegar, and salt and pepper in a bowl and mash until well combined. Stir in the capers and/or dill, if using. Serve on bread or toast.
*Note: These amounts are approximate. Start small and taste as you go! The result should be creamy and hold together.
LittleJudeonFood 