Millet-Whole Wheat Bread

Here's some any day bread for you. I say any day bread because it absorbs interruptions, forgetfulness, and haste alike, using whatever time you have (or don't have) to rise into a toothsome, earthy loaf. I've left the dough to rise overnight in the fridge one day and given it just a couple hours on the counter on another: each time has resulted in an absolutely chewy, hearty, peanut butter-friendly loaf of bread. The millet's texture gives bite while the sweet molasses takes the edge off what might otherwise turn into an overly wheat-y flavor.

I initially chose this recipe as a means for ridding myself of a half-bag of millet, past experiments  having produced a bland mass (excluding this casserole, where it performed rather well). Now I've got my favorite bread recipe du jour--a bundle of dough is in the freezer right now, waiting for me to finish up a bag of bagels.

Yeast doing its thing.

Adapted from the recipe Molasses Bread with Cooked Grains in Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison. I usually make a half-recipe.

Millet-Whole Wheat Bread

Ingredients:

2 1/4 cups water

2 1/4 tsp. (1 package) active dry yeast

1/2 tsp. sugar

1/4 cup molasses

3 TBSP vegetable oil

2 1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 cups cooked millet
2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
3-4 cups whole wheat flour

Directions
--Heat 1/4 cup of the water to wrist temperature. Pour into a bowl with the yeast and sugar. Let sit until yeast is bubbling, about 10 minutes.
--Mix together remaining water, molasses, oil, salt, and cooked cereal. Stir in the proofed yeast, then add the all-purpose flour and two cups of the whole wheat. Stir with a spoon until a dough begins to form, adding more whole wheat flour to make a dough that holds together but is still a little sticky. Knead with your hands for 10-15 minutes, until the dough feels smooth.
--Place dough in a warm place (such as an oven with the oven light on, or in a sunny spot) and let rise at least one hour.
--Divide dough into two pieces and shape each into either a round boule, placed on an ungreased cookie sheet, or a rectangle, placed in a greased loaf pan. Let rise a second time, about 40 minutes.
Note: These rise times are very flexible. You'll want the dough to rise for at least one hour the first time and for at least fifteen minutes once shaped into loaves. Beyond that, let your availability dictate the process. You can swap the second rise for overnight refrigeration or let it sit for several hours during the first or second rise.
--Bake the bread at 375 degrees F for 40-55 minutes, until the bottom sounds hollow when tapped. If baked in a bread pan, et cool at least 15 minutes before removing from pan.

Roasted Beet and Burst Tomato Salad with Edamame

Here's a good transition dish when it's still winter but you want it to be summer. Roasted beets and cherry tomatoes bridge the gap, beets with their royal coats and tooth-warming bite, and the mini tomatoes, sweet bursts of summer-to-come. They're accompanied by a wholesome, but interesting assortment of veggies: cabbage, edamame, and tart, juicy lettuce leaf. Bringing it all together is a red wine vinegar and orange vinaigrette. Orange juice tones down the acidity, offering another nod to the sunshine that lies ahead. I've become rather fond of edamame, alone and in salads. A quick boil softens the beans into smooth, satisfying bites that pair well with the lettuce and bright dressing. 

Roasted Beet and Burst Tomato Salad with Edamame

Ingredients:

For salad:

1 box cherry tomatoes

2 beets, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices.

1 TBSP olive oil

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. ground pepper

1/2 head red leaf lettuce, washed and torn into bite-sized pieces

1/2 head romain lettuce, washed and torn into bite-sized pieces

1/2 head red cabbage, roughly chopped

1 cup edamame beans, (beans should be cooked and de-shelled according to package)

For Vinaigrette (from Fine Cooking): 

1/2 cup olive oil

3 TBSP red wine vinegar

1 TBSP honey

juice of 1/2 orange

zest of one orange

1-2 tsp. fresh thyme, finely chopped

1 TBSP Dijon mustard

salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

--Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Toss tomatoes and beets with the oil, salt, and pepper, and place in a single layer in a lined baking pan. Cook for 20 minutes or until beets are tender when pierced with a fork. Remove from oven and let cool.

--Make dressing while the vegetables cool. Whisk together all vinaigrette ingredients. Taste and add more orange juice or mustard as necessary to balance out sweetness. 

--Toss together lettuces, cabbage, and edamame in a large bowl. Spoon roasted vegetables on top. Serve with vinaigrette.

Spinach, Cheddar, and Millet Egg Casserole

What to feed a crowd. This challenge is two-fold in my case: beyond the task of finding a recipe to please all palates, I must fight my fondness for creating fussy dishes—handheld pastries, ravioli, poached eggs on toast. This tendency doesn't translate so well to satisfying a large dinner party, where individually plating each dish means I'd never leave the kitchen to join the dinner myself. Such was my dilemma last week, when I cooked a meal for a table of five. In addition, one of our party did not eat gluten, which nixed the options of big-pot pasta or pizza (I've yet to find solid gluten-free alternatives for these recipes). So I landed on quiche, which I find both delicious and delicate, with its silky yet fork-sturdy filling and crunch of crust. The crust, of course, made for a gluten component that I would need to avoid. A brief bout of research revealed a not-quite quiche:  a millet and spinach egg bake. Funny enough, the recipe made two pretty, ramekin-sized portions—just the sort of dainty dish I meant to avoid. No matter, however: the recipe's simplicity made it easy to supersize. 

Coconut Ginger Scones

Not too long ago, my friend Hannah Rose and I pondered the intersection of snow days and sweets. As it turned out, we had both experienced the former and, in response, spent the day baking. Hannah Rose, tasked to stay home from work because of a substantial snowfall, took the day to make peanut butter cookies. She used a recipe that pairs maple syrup with peanut butter and almond flour—a warming, hunker-down-in-your-knit-socks combination. I, confronted with a similar snowfall (albeit on a weekend, making it a snow day in name, but not practicality) baked scones with tropical notes—ginger and coconut. The two of us had independently decided to snuggle into our respective snow blankets with homemade dessert, which I take as a rather good sign. When winter calls, bake something, whether you're looking for a snowbird's escape into sunny flavors or something that says winter comfort with every bite.

These scones are just faintly sweet, an apt pairing for jam, cheese, or frosting alike. The fresh ginger, finely diced, adds pockets of floral flavor. Coconut oil provides most of the coconut flavor and lends sweetness, while the flakes are kept for the top alone, a nod to what drove me to the kitchen in the first place (for what better way to keep warm then by hovering around the oven, eh?).  Feel free to add flakes to the batter, but I like the pure scone crumb, for the texture of these scones is their true triumph. The buttermilk creates a beautifully flaky scone, reminiscent of a biscuit. Follow these directions, and you'll have mini scones: two-bite delights that are easy to share and easy to eat.

Adapted from Simply Recipe's Ginger Scones Recipe

Coconut Ginger Scones

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 TBSP grated fresh ginger
2 TBSP butter
3 TBSP coconut oil
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup sweetened, shredded coconut

Directions:
--Mix together flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the ginger. In a small saucepan or the microwave, melt the butter and oil together. Add to the flour mixture with the buttermilk and stir just until incorporated.
--Preheat oven to 400 degrees F and take out two cookie sheets (line with parchment if your sheets aren't nonstick).
--Flour a cutting board or clean work surface and turn the dough out onto it. Flour your hands and press the dough into a square about 1 inch thick. Use a sharp knife to cut five strips width-wise and three length-wise so that you have fifteen squares. Cut each of these on the diagonal. Place onto the sheets, making sure the scones don't touch. Top each with a sprinkling of coconut flakes.
--Bake 10-12 minutes or until scones are firm to the touch and coconut is lightly toasted.

Gluten-Free Sweet Potato Gnocchi

I invited myself over to someone else's house for dinner the other day. I offered to make the dinner, so hopefully I didn't totally put the hostess out. But I'm still aware that I committed a slight indiscretion, in asking to take over someone's kitchen, shuffle their pots and pans around, and then spend ten minutes photographing the food before we could eat.

But I like to think that inviting oneself over is okay if you're bringing gnocchi. Having received this gluten-free gnocchi recipe from a trusted coworker (her own food blog, In Fine Fettle, is forthcoming), I had an inkling it would be delicious. And so it was: warm pillows of sweet potato, crust crisped by olive oil, and hit with a double dose of basil—some in the gnocchi itself, some in the pesto dolloped on top. The dish is pretty, soul-warming, and, I think, welcome regardless of who invited whom to the table.

Brussels Sprout and Fennel Tart with Goat Cheese

This holiday break, my hostility toward fennel finally broke down. Previously, its similarity in flavor to anise seed left me pushing it aside in salads, ignoring fennel-focused recipes, and generally frowning when it appeared on menus. Then my sister took me to The Eagle in Over the Rhine, a Cincinnati neighborhood that really embodies the term 'happening.' The evening's highlight must be bestowed upon their spoon bread (A thick skillet pancake which appears to have maple syrup baked right in, delivering with each splendid forkful a sort of Goldilocks experience—not too sweet, not too dry, but Just Right). But we also ordered a salad of shaved fennel, arugula, and parmesan, and the fennel was just delicious: crisp, refreshing, and finely dressed with an acidic dressing. Perhaps, I thought between mouthfuls, there's something to my mother's affinity for the veggie.

With this experience fresh in my mind, I agreed to include fennel in a savory tart I was making for said mother's birthday dinner. It's showcased rather differently here: instead of being prepared raw, the fennel is sliced, coated in an herb-mustard dressing, and slow-roasted among mounds of earthy Brussels Sprouts. Turns out it was quite delicious this way too, layered over a landscape of creamy goat cheese, all snugged in a crisp pastry crust. I'm glad to know I needn't skirt the ingredient in the future. Although I'm even more glad to know that spoon bread exists. 

Pumpkin-Pecan-Bourbon Cake

This year's Thanksgiving marks one of the few where I sat at a real dining table, lines of silverware wedged between birch sprigs and butter dishes. Normally, due to the overflow of relatives (honorary and blood), most of my generation is relegated to the kids table. There, we tuck our legs under ourselves and crowd plates onto a coffee table set up just far enough from the grownups that we hear only snatches of wine-warmed conversation (always our names, never the context in which they arise). Now, as new families spring up and smart new careers solidify, people are sent off and away from the Midwest that knitted our friendships and felt our first steps. So we represent the holiday's missing attendees in toasts and scattered updates offered throughout the evening. And each explanation for someone's absence is relayed in a slightly different manner depending on who tells the story, so that by the night's end, no one is terribly clear about what anyone is doing, but they're well assured that those who are absent have got themselves perfectly situated. They're also represented in recollections of Thanksgivings past, to which we'll add this one, remembering only the good parts and forgetting that we really ought to double the batch of gravy next year.

So we were a small group. But a small group is no reason not to make a tall, tall cake. A tall cake of pumpkin and pecan and most of the spice rack's contents, crowned with a bourbon glaze and more pecans. There will leftover glaze—eat it on everything. Prepare to gather and use a lot of ingredients, including what I believe amounts to an entire bag of brown sugar. But you'll be pleased with the result. As will the rest of the party, whatever their number. 

Adapted from Fine Cooking's Pumpkin-Pecan Cake with Brown Sugar and Bourbon Glaze

Pumpkin-Pecan-Bourbon Cake

Ingredients:

For cake

3 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour (plus a little extra for the pan)

2 tsp. baking powder

2 tsp. ginger

2 tsp. cinnamon

1 1/4 tsp. salt

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. ground nutmeg

1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature (plus a little extra for the pan)

1/2 cup vegetable oil

2 1/2 cups brown sugar

4 large eggs

3/4 cup buttermilk

3 TBSP bourbon

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

1 15-oz can pumpkin puree

1 cup pecan halves, toasted and chopped

For candied pecans

2 TBSP brown sugar

1 TBSP honey

3/4 cup pecans, roughly chopped

For glaze

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1/2 cup unsalted butter

2 TBSP corn syrup

1 1/2 TBSP bourbon

1/3 cup light whipping cream

1 1/4 cups powdered sugar

1/8 tsp. vanilla extract

Directions:

Make the Cake

--Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter and flour a 10- to 12-cup bundt or tube pan. 

--Mix together dry ingredients. In a large bowl, cream together butter, oil, and sugar. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. In a measuring cup, stir together buttermilk, bourbon, and vanilla extract.

--Add flour and buttermilk mixtures to the butter batter, alternating between dry and wet. Stir in pumpkin puree and pecans with a wooden spoon or spatula. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 45 to 55 minutes, or until a knife stuck into the cake's center comes out clean. 

--Let cake cool in pan for at least 15 minutes. Slide a knife between the cake's edge and the pan and invert onto a plate, removing the pan very slowly and gently.

Make Candied Pecans (this can be done while the cake bakes).

--Cook brown sugar, honey, and 1 TBSP water in a small saucepan over medium heat until the sugar has dissolved. Add pecans and stir to coat. Cook on medium-low heat for 15 minutes or until pecans are shiny and most of the sugar mixture clings to the pecans.

Make the Glaze (again, this can be done while the cake bakes)

--To a medium saucepan, add the brown sugar, butter, corn syrup, bourbon, and salt. Cook over medium heat until butter melts and the sugar dissolves. Pour in the cream and boil for one minute, stirring occasionally. Remove from the heat and whisk in sugar and extract, stirring until mixture is smooth. Let stand three to eight minutes: glaze should be thick, but pourable.

Assemble

--Scatter candied pecans across the top of the cake. Using a skewer, poke holes into the cake's sides. Pour the glaze over the cake, letting it run down the sides and into the tunnels created by the skewer. Keep any extra glaze for spooning onto individual slices.