Strawberry Crumble

Stop the presses!

This is literally the best strawberry crumble you will ever taste…I promise.

The weather has finally started to come around in Chicago and not a minute too soon; I was beginning to panic. It started when my Editing professor told us that she was still wearing her down jacket one year at graduation (graduation is June 21st), and ended with a terrible semi-rain, semi-snow storm that had me asking: where did they put Spring? St. Louis has its ups and downs, but the one thing I could look forward to every year was consistently warm weather beginning at the end of April.

This weekend, though, the weather man’s predictions were proven wrong: what was supposed to be rain turned into two, bright sunny days. One day (in the middle of a long walk), I wondered into the grocery store, where the front table was piled high with massive containers of strawberries.

The weather (combined with my strawberry addiction) resulted in one delicious strawberry crumble. I find that when the weather gets warmer, all you need are simple recipes with basic ingredients: the orange juice and zest in this recipe bring out the flavor of the strawberries, and the light dusting of crumbly topping provides just the right amount of sweetness. Your entire home will smell like a strawberry pie…and you didn’t even need to roll out the crust.

I might consider sharing my leftover crumble with friends…that is, if there’s any left by tomorrow.

Strawberry Crumble (adapted from Desserts for Breakfast)

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble
makes two 5″ crumbles or one 9″ crumble

for filling:
21 oz. strawberries, hulled and halved (or quartered, if you have bigger strawberries)
freshly grated zest of 1 large orange
3 Tbspn freshly squeezed orange juice
1/2 cup sugar
4 Tbspn corn starch

for crumb topping:
1 cup flour
3/4 tspn salt
1/2 tspn baking powder
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 stick butter, cold

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
2. Make the filling first.  Toss and combine all of the filling ingredients in a bowl.  Spoon into the baking ramekins and set aside.
3. Make the crumb topping. Combine all of the ingredients except the butter in a bowl.
4. Using your fingers, cut the butter into the flour mixture.  Continue until the butter is the size of small peas and evenly distributed throughout the mixture.
5. Top the prepared ramekins generously with the crumb topping, patting it down if you need to pile more on.
6. Bake for 30-40 minutes, until bubbly and the tops are golden brown.  Remove and let cool briefly before serving.
7. Serve hot. You can reheat the crumbles if you don’t plan to eat them right away: 375 degrees F oven for 8-10 minutes.

Floods and Bubbles

This morning when I woke up, the sky was almost black. I knew there was going to be rain, but I didn’t realize it would be a near monsoon; the rain was coming down so hard, it wasn’t even pattering on the window. It sounded like someone was throwing buckets of water onto the glass.

Needless to say, I was a little worried about walking to class. I texted a classmate, “Is class canceled? Haha,” because if I’ve learned anything from living in Chicago, it’s that nothing stops for the weather. Cars, people, businesses, schools…Even a torrential downpour wouldn’t deter them.

On my way to class, I had to cross the street because half the road was flooded. Men were wading around in knee deep water, frantically trying to suction it up with a vacuum. One of my classmates lives in the suburbs, and it took her three hours to drive to class- a distance that usually only takes 30 to 45 minutes.

Luckily a few hours later, the rain began to let up. I was walking home, trying to dodge puddles when I saw something rainbow colored float through the air.

When I whipped my head around, I saw a man with a wagon full of supplies and two large fishing-rod type devices. He was pouring blue liquid into plastic paint bins, and dragging the sticks through the soap.

Then, just like a fly-fisherman, he quickly flicked his wrist and released a hundred rainbow-colored spheres into the air.

They floated down the sidewalk, past apartment buildings and into courtyards. In the middle of a quiet, residential street, with rain lightly sprinkling down and puddles everywhere, this man was making bubbles.

The journalist in me couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear his story. I ran back to my apartment, grabbed my camera and a notepad and walked quickly to the street where I found him making bubbles. I hoped he hadn’t left yet, and I strained my head to see over a row of cars. But then I saw students stop and do a double-take as they walked down the sidewalk, so I knew he must still be there.

Ben Jimenez has been making bubbles for a living for close to three years. He puts on shows for local parties and events, and has even been featured on local news stations.

I told him the bubbles reminded me of Glenda the Good Witch from the Wizard of Oz and he smiled.

When I asked him what he did before bubbles, he said, “I used to find jobs for people.”

Headhunter turned master bubble maker. His story made me realize that even though we might set out on one path, we never know the ones that lie ahead.

The best part about watching Ben make bubbles (besides the bubbles themselves) were people’s reactions. People stopped in their cars and rolled down their windows to compliment Ben’s bubble-making, and a young mother walking with her children stopped for awhile, and let her kids chase the bubbles.

I think someone once said there’s no sound more pure than a child’s laugh, and it’s true; seeing them play and chase the bubbles reminded me how we often take the small things in life for granted. To these children, the bubbles represented joy and wonder. Seeing it through their eyes made me appreciate the experience even more.

Making My Own Naan

I’ll never forget the first time I tried naan. It was the week before my freshman year of college, and my academic adviser took me and her other advisees to an Indian restaurant in St. Louis called Rasoi. I had never actually eaten out at an Indian restaurant, and at the time, the whole experience seemed exotic; here I was, about to start the next four years of my life, surrounded by complete strangers and eating completely different food.

I don’t remember what I ordered as an entree, and I can’t even tell you who was sitting next to me. But I’ll never forget the warm, doughy naan that the waiters kept bringing to the table. It was slightly charred on the outside, brushed with melted butter and lightly salted. When I ate a piece, it seemed to melt in my mouth. I had never tasted anything like it, and throughout the rest of my college experience, I kept seeking it out.

Nowadays, I crave Indian food frequently. I don’t want to break the bank, so I’ve tried to recreate most dishes at home. The one exception is naan. I never found a recipe that didn’t involve a Tandoori oven. Plus, the idea of creating the bread in my tiny apartment was slightly terrifying. I’ve had loaves of banana bread practically set aflame in my oven, so what would happen when I tried to make naan?

As it turns out, it’s completely doable. I won’t lie and tell you it tastes as good as what you’ll get at the restaurant; some things just can’t be imitated. But the recipe I found will create delicious bread, worthy of any meal.

Plus, the recipe is relatively straightforward. All you have to do is mix the wet and dry ingredients, knead the dough for a few minutes by hand, let it rise and then form it into small balls.

Then, you form the slices of naan by rotating the dough like you would pizza dough. You keep turning it around like a pinwheel, making sure to go slowly so the dough doesn’t tear.

Finally, you can drop it on a hot skillet greased with ghee (Indian butter). I would highly recommend finding ghee- it should be available at most international grocery stores. If you’re in Chicago, try checking out the Indian grocery stores on Devon.

Also, this might be naan sacrilege, but I found that toasting the slices on the second and third day returned them to their original state; that is, warm, doughy and delicious. You can serve the naan alongside an Indian entree, or even use the bread for sandwiches.

Naan (slightly adapted from Bon Appetit, April 2013 issue)

Ingredients:

3/4 cup whole milk

1 1/4-oz. envelope active dry yeast

1 tsp. sugar

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour plus more for surface and hands

1 tsp. kosher salt plus more

1 cup whole-milk yogurt (not Greek)

2 Tbsp. melted ghee or vegetable oil (plus more for greasing pan)

Directions:

Heat milk in a small saucepan over medium-low heat until an instant-read thermometer registers 100 degrees F. Transfer to a small bowl and whisk in yeast and sugar. Let stand until foamy, about 10 minutes.

Whisk 3 1/2 cups flour and 1 tsp. salt in a large bowl to blend. Add yeast mixture, yogurt, and 2 Tbsp. ghee. Mix dough until blended but still shaggy.

Transfer dough to a lightly floured work surface. Knead until a smooth dough forms, adding flour as needed (dough will be sticky), about 5 minutes. Lightly grease another large bowl with ghee, place dough in bowl, and turn to coat. Cover with plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm, draft-free area until doubled in size, about 1 hour (it took my dough a bit longer, an hour and a half).

Punch down dough and divide into 10 pieces. Using floured hangs, roll each piece into a ball on a lightly floured surface. Cover with plastic wrap; let rest 10 minutes.

Heat a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Lightly coat with ghee. Working with 1 piece at a time, stretch dough with your hands or roll out with a rolling pin to 1/8 inch thickness. Sprinkle with salt. Cook until lightly blistered, puffed, and cooked through, about 2 minutes per side. Wrap in foil to keep warm until ready to serve.

I stored my naan by wrapping it in tin foil; it kept for three days, but you might want to toast it or reheat it in the oven to get a more desirable consistency.

Flourless Chocolate Cake

Earlier this week, I went home to celebrate Passover with my family. For those of you who don’t know, Passover is the Jewish holiday that celebrates the Jews’ exodus from slavery in Egypt. Traditionally, you have a seder, or mini-service, at the dinner table, with everyone reading the story of Passover aloud from a book called the Haggadah. You eat foods that play symbolic roles in the story, and then afterward you are rewarded with a giant (flourless) feast.

However, my family does things slightly different. My mom and grandparents take Passover seriously, and like to move through the service slowly and methodically. My siblings, on the other hand, like to speed-read through the Haggadah and jump right into the feast.

Usually after a couple of glasses of wine, the elder members of the family can be convinced to skip one or two pages…But then there are additional pauses when my Grandmother asks where Jesus was during the Jews’ exodus, and my Mom tries to make everyone sing Dayenu (a traditional Passover song).

Which is why I was happy that this year, I made the dessert. Despite the chaos of the service, I knew a delicious end was in sight: a warm, rich, flourless chocolate cake.

Passover foods are flourless to commemorate the Jews’ exodus, as they could only eat unleavened bread as they traveled through the dessert. For people like myself, cutting out flour for a week is something akin to torture, but this cake will make you forgot your flourless woes. The exterior is flaky and light, and the interior is rich and decadent enough to melt in your mouth…Almost like a cross between a piece of fudge and a moist chocolate brownie.

This is a Passover recipe I’ll be revisiting for many years to come.

Fallen Chocolate Cake (slightly adapted from Bon Appetit’s March 2013 issue)

Ingredients

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1 inch pieces, plus more, room temperature, for the pan

3/4 cup plus 2 tbsp sugar, divided, plus more for pan

10 oz. semisweet or bittersweet chocolate (61%-72% cacao), coarsely chopped (I used a mix of dark and bittersweet)

2 tbsp vegetable oil

6 large eggs

2 tbsp natural unsweetened cocoa powder

1 tsp vanilla extract

3/4 tsp kosher salt

Special Equipment: A 9 inch-diameter springform pan

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly butter springform pan and dust with sugar, tapping out any excess.

Combine chocolate, oil, and 1/2 cup butter in a large heatproof bowl. Set over a saucepan of simmering water and heat, stirring often, until melted. Remove bowl from saucepan.

Separate 4 eggs, placing whites and yolks in separate medium bowls. Add cocoa powder, vanilla, salt, 1/4 cup sugar, and remaining 2 eggs to bowl with yolks and whisk until mixture is smooth. Gradually whisk yolk mixture into chocolate mixture, blending well.

Using an electric mixer on high speed, beat egg whites until frothy. With mixer running, gradually beat in 1/2 cup sugar; beat until firm peaks form.

Gently fold egg whites into chocolate mixture in 2 additions, folding just until incorporated between additions. Scrape batter into prepared pan; smooth top and sprinkle with remaining 2 tbsp sugar.

Bake until top is puffed and starting to crack and cake is pulling away from edge of pan, 35-45 min. My cake took 40 min to bake, and don’t be alarmed if the top appears a bit jiggly or loose when you remove the cake from the oven; it will settle upon cooling.

Transfer to wire rack and let cake cool completely in pan (cake will collapse in the center and crack further as it cools.

Notes: Cake can be made 1 day ahead. Cover in pan and store airtight at room temperature.

There was a mascarpone topping that was included in original recipe, but I decided to garnish the cake with powdered sugar instead…Completely up to you, but I thought the cake was rich enough on its own.

A good pairing with the cake is sweetened mixed berries.

Lemon Poppy Seed Pancakes

Growing up, pancakes were a breakfast staple item. One of my earliest memories is going to a (now, sadly defunct) restaurant in St. Louis called “Cocoas” for breakfast with my family. I remember my grandpa carrying me over to where the cooks made pancakes on large, counter-sized griddles, and watching them as they ladled large spoonfuls of thick batter onto the piping hot surface. To my five-year-old self, what they were doing was something akin to magic; before my eyes, a large puddle of batter became the cakes that I slathered with butter and maple syrup.

Throughout the rest of my childhood/teenage years, pancakes were around at all the defining moments. Before the SAT’s, my mom made me large, skillet-sized M&M pancakes for encouragement. Looking back, I was probably on the verge of a sugar-induced coma after consuming these cakes, but at least I managed to pull off decent test scores. As it seemed, pancakes worked their magic once again.

When I moved into my apartment in Chicago, one of the first breakfasts I made myself was banana chocolate chip pancakes. There are few combinations better than banana and chocolate, and as I recall, the pancakes nursed me through a particularly stress-inducing weekend.

Now, I like to take chances on my pancakes; lemon blueberry ricotta, cinnamon apple and carrot cake are just some of the varieties that recently caught my eye.

I’ve been meaning to try this Lemon Poppy Seed Pancake recipe from Joy the Baker for a while, and this morning I decided to stop procrastinating. Normally, I barely have time for a bowl of cereal, but as it’s now spring break I can indulge in a homemade breakfast.

One of my favorite parts of this recipe is rubbing the sugar together with the lemon zest. I’d never actually done this before, so when I saw the directions in the recipe, I did a double-take. I just assumed that by mixing the lemon with the batter, my pancakes would automatically taste like lemon.

However, by massaging the lemon zest into the sugar you actually release more lemon flavor, and the sugar takes on a new personality. It’s citrusy, zesty, and just a tad sweet, and sparkles when it catches the light.

The rest of the recipe is straightforward and requires minimal effort; I was expecting the process to take longer, especially when Joy warned in her instructions that the batter might be lumpy. However, I found that once I mixed the poppy seeds in, the batter was thick and smooth.

I might have eaten some batter before…during…and after? frying the pancakes, but I think this is just one of the hazards of the job.

The result was buttery, not too sweet, and slightly tangy pancakes. I added a small pool of maple syrup on the side, and found that it added the perfect amount of sweetness.

Lemon Poppy Seed Pancakes (from Joy the Baker)

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

2 tablespoons fresh lemon zest

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups buttermilk

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

2 tablespoons poppy seeds

butter, shortening, or vegetable oil for frying

maple syrup for serving

In a small bowl combine granulated sugar and lemon zest.  Rub together with your fingers until sugar is fragrant.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  Stir in the lemon sugar.  Set aside.

In a separate bowl (or you can use a large liquid measuring cup), whisk together buttermilk, eggs, vanilla extract, lemon juice, and melted butter.  Pour the wet ingredients all at once into the dry ingredients.  Add the poppy seeds and stir to combine.  Let the batter rest for 10 minutes while the griddle heats.

Place a griddle, or a nonstick saute pan over medium heat.  Add a bit of butter, shortening, or vegetable oil to the pan.  A teaspoon of fat will do for a nonstick saute pan, a bit more fat may be necessary for a griddle.  Dollop batter onto hot pan.  For small pancakes, use about 2 tablespoons for each pancake.  For larger pancakes, use about 1/4 cup of batter.

Cook until golden brown on the bottom and and bubbling on top.  Flip once and cook until golden brown on each side.

Place cooked pancakes on an oven-proof plate and place in a warm (about 150 degrees F) oven until all pancakes are cooked and ready to serve.  Serve with butter and warm maple syrup.

Winter in Chicago (and ways I’ve cooked up to tolerate it)

This is what it looked like in Chicago on Tuesday:

Note the car that is completely covered in snow.

When I decided to attend Northwestern, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew that winters in Chicago had the reputation of being brutal, and I was prepared for the worst: I bought a huge, puffy down jacket, boots, and more gloves than any one person needs.

But while I was preparing, I never considered that the weather would actually get worse as the months progressed. I guess after living in St. Louis my whole life, I assumed that by March, things would calm down.

Clearly, they have not.

I don’t want to seem like I’m complaining (even though for all intents and purposes, I am). I was just completely taken aback by snow coming down sideways (so I couldn’t look up as I walked), lingering black ice on sidewalks, and the dread that comes from hearing an “Eastern storm front” is coming through. Although weirdly, I feel like Chicagoans almost enjoy this news. It’s as if they take it as a challenge, and whoever acts the least affected by it wins.

I’ve devised my own method of dealing with the bad weather: eating. One of Chicago’s most redeeming qualities is its wide variety of restaurants, and I’ve indulged in a few delicious meals throughout the last few weeks.

Two weeks ago, I went to Uncommon Ground. Uncommon Ground is a (mostly) vegetarian restaurant that has two locations in Chicago, one in Edgewater and another in Lakeview. You might have heard about Uncommon Ground because for the past couple years, it was named the “Greenest Restaurant in America.” They grow their own vegetables on the roof, and most of their ingredients are from local, sustainable sources.

I ordered the White Bean Hash, which was a delicious combination of roasted root vegetables, kale, chihuahua cheese and two poached eggs on top. The hash was served in a piping hot skillet, and the cheese was gooey, melted and warm.

Last weekend I went to Feast in Bucktown (a neighborhood in West Chicago). I was feeling more in the mood for something sweet than savory, so I ordered the the Challah French Toast. Thick slices of eggy bread were dredged in creme anglaise, sprinkled with powdered sugar and layered with a juicy, peach blueberry compote. The bread was dense and creamy, but the second I took a bite it seemed to melt in my mouth.

I know I’ve said this before, but I will say it again…This is one of the best French Toasts I’ve ever eaten in my life. I don’t know why, but French Toast seems to be better in Chicago than other places I’ve tried it…

Tonight, I decided to make a recipe from “Lunch in Paris.” Lentils with white wine, herbs and tomatoes (in French, lentilles au vin blanc) seemed to be the perfect antidote to a cold winter’s night. I loved the way the kitchen smelled as the lentils cooked; the white wine combined with the smell of caramelized onions and tomatoes made my whole apartment seem cozier.

I highly recommend eating the lentils with some good, crusty bread (Elizabeth Bard does too in her book). It made me remember life in France, and even while I was nostalgic, I was happy; I realized that sometimes, our emotions dictate what we eat. We feel stressed, tired or angry, and so we eat in response to those feelings.

But tonight, for the first time in a while, food actually made me feel; it was almost like I was in dialogue with my dinner. I cupped my hands around the bowl and savored every bite. I wasn’t rushing to finish, or worried about what I needed to do next; I was totally and completely in the moment, enjoying my food and appreciating the flavors.

I’ve never underestimated the power of a good meal, but tonight, I realized the satisfaction that comes from making something delicious.

Lentils With White Wine, Herbs, and Tomatoes (Lentilles au Vin Blanc) (slightly adapted from “Lunch in Paris” by Elizabeth Bard):

2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

1 carrot, roughly chopped

1 medium onion, roughly chopped

2 1/2 cups dried Puy lentils (green lentils)

6 cups low sodium vegetable broth

One 16 oz can whole tomatoes, drained and chopped

1 cup dry white wine (I used Sauvignon Blanc)

1 bay leaf

Freshly ground black pepper and Kosher salt to taste

Toppings:

Greek Yogurt

Chopped fresh cilanto

3 limes, halved

In a large stockpot, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the onion and carrot and saute for 5 to 10 minutes, until the onion is translucent.

Add the lentils and stir to coat with the oil. Add the broth, tomatoes, wine, bay leaf, an a good grinding of pepper and some Kosher salt. Leave to simmer over low heat with the cover ajar until the lentils are tender and most of the liquid has been absorbed, about 1 hour.

Serve in shallow bowls with a dollop of Greek yogurt, a sprinkling of chopped fresh cilantro, and half a lime for squeezing.

Serves 6 (or 1 with leftovers)

Oscars Party: Homemade Pizza and Yogurt Cake

The way some people feel about the Superbowl, I feel about the Oscars; it’s my favorite occasion to lounge around, eat continuously, and yell out things at the t.v.

I’ve been watching the Academy Awards for as long as I can remember, and I don’t think I’ve ever missed a year; even when I lived in France, I conveniently happened to be visiting the United States the week it aired.

Hosting gaffes and celebrity culture aside, I think the reason I keep tuning in is because movies have always been my second love. I was brought up on classic films like “Sabrina” and “Guys and Dolls,” and some of my happiest childhood memories involve singing along to Rodgers and Hammerstein movies.

I remember when I found out that Nora Ephron, the late film extraordinaire who created “When Harry Met Sally” and “Sleepless in Seattle,” had been a journalist before she became a screenwriter. Reading those words inspired me, as I had always secretly wanted to write a screenplay of my own. I (not so secretly) hope one day, maybe I’ll have the chance to attend the Oscars.

Until then, I’m content with watching from the comfort of my living room. I invited a few friends over for the occasion, and made a pizza and yogurt cake.

I’ve been craving yogurt cake since I came across the recipe in “Lunch in Paris.” I’ve wanted to make something lemon-y and moist for awhile, but didn’t wanted to settle for standard blueberry muffins or pound cake. I wanted something light, fluffy, and moist, and that’s exactly what this cake delivered.

You can top the cake however you want, but I decided to cut up peach halves for the garnish.

Also, a word to the wise: be careful with parchment paper. Somehow, a bit of the excess paper managed to fall off the pan in the oven and started making sounds like a summer camp bonfire. Needless to say, my friends and I were worried.

I thought the pizza was going to be more work than the cake, but it ended up being less strenuous. I think making pizza dough is half the battle, and so to cut out some leg work, I bought a bag of frozen dough from Whole Foods.

Then, I followed directions from Annie’s Eats to thaw and prep the dough for baking. The prep work is crucial to making good pizza, but luckily it’s not labor intensive. All you have to do is put your dough in the refrigerator the morning you’re planning to make the pizza.

Then, thirty minutes prior to baking, you can preheat the oven and set the dough on the counter to come to room temperature.

My oven is notoriously finicky, and I was worried the bottom of my pizza would end up charcoal black.

But somehow, miraculously, the oven managed to stay at 500 degrees for the entire pizza-making process, and produced a perfectly cooked pizza; fluffy and slightly chewy with a crispy, golden crust.

I topped my pizza with pesto, goat cheese, mushroom and mozzarella; a mix of things in my refrigerator. Because the pizza making process was so much easier than I expected, I’m excited to make another one, soon…I think next time, I’ll try butternut squash and caramelized onions.

Yogurt Cake (slightly adapted from “Lunch in Paris” by Elizabeth Bard):

1 cup plain yogurt (Bard said to use whole milk; I used nonfat Greek yogurt)

1 cup sugar

A large pinch of sea salt

1 tsp vanilla extract

1/3 cup vegetable oil

2 large eggs

1 2/3 cups flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

Zest of 1 lemon (don’t skimp on zest)

One 16-ounce can of peach halves, drained and quartered

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Lightly oil a 10-inch round cake pan and line it with parchment paper.

In a medium mixing bowl, combine the yogurt, sugar, salt and vanilla, whisking until smooth. Add the oil in a steady stream, whisking to combine. Add the eggs one by one, whisking to incorporate after each addition.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and baking soda; add to the yogurt mixture; whisk lightly to combine. Stir in the lemon zest.

Transfer the batter to your cake pan; top with the chopped peaches. Bake on the center rack of the oven for 45 minutes or until golden brown and slightly risen. A toothpick in the center should come out clean.

Lift the cake by the parchment paper onto a wire rack to cool. Serve slightly warm or at room temperature.

To store, cover the fully cooled cake with aluminum foil. Bard said not use a plastic airtight container because it would make the cake soggy, but I put a few slices in a container and they were still fluffy and moist the next day.