Recently, the "Banana Bake" has made a kitchen comeback.
I first encountered the Banana Bake one year ago via work. The Banana Bake, a combo of healthy fruits and desserty flavors, consistently achieved high marks and accolades from students in cooking class. Students also expressed their awe at how simple it was to transform this starchy fruit into a warm delicious dessert.
When the Banana Bake moved out of the classroom and into my kitchen one year ago, the recipe morphed and changed by the dictates of available pantry ingredients, and emerged as Banana Bake II. This time bananas joined preserved blueberries (canned the previous summer), canned crushed pineapple (fruit staple in the winter), and frozen mangos (the remaining slices that overstayed their welcome in the freezer). The Banana Bake kept finding new ways to be delicious.
Then, last spring, the elusive Banana Bake disappeared. As fresh strawberries began to grow on vines, there was no need for it. . . until now.
The Banana Bake re-emerged a few weeks ago. While planning a simple yet genuinely homemade lunch for colleagues. The meal, lentil chili and homemade bread, desperately needed a sweet ending. "What to dessert on?", I asked myself merely hours before the arrival of my guests. A quick stop at the store, 12 minutes of assembly, a small shove into the oven, and there it was: Banana Bake III. Eaten warm and topped with a plain yogurt agave mixture, all agreed BB III was delish.
And finally, we have arrived to yesterday, when I put the fate of Banana Bake III into the hands of my husband. Following instructions over the phone, my husband did a splendid job of replicating the recipe. It was different than my own recent bake, and may in fact be the inspiration for Banana Bake IV.
Hoping the Banana Bake finds its way into your kitchen this winter.
Be Well.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Monday, December 21, 2009
Cooking up a Storm
While shopping at Whole Foods last Friday in search of ingredients for food gifts, I had dismissed the long lines and hoards of customers as part of the holiday season's hustle and bustle.
Later than night, when the first flakes of snow began to fall, which we soon learned would be a 26 hour snow fall-athon, I realized what I had witnessed earlier was snow panic.
Since my own snow panic never struck, when the storm did, we were left with dwindling remains from food purchases the week prior, frozen produce from summer, and staple dry goods.
So in between hunkering down and digging ourselves out, creative cooking also filled time in the days that followed.
Snow Shovel Breakfasts:
Oatmeal, stretched with couscous, combined with dried milk, (to spare our soy milk from taking a hit) dried fruits, nuts, and spices that were on hand. Day 2 breakfast was "eggy mash", a concoction I created for Umami mornings. This mixture of shredded egg, mayo, soy sauce, Sriracha, and sesame oil, is rich, creamy, salty, and protein packed.
Snow Shovel Snacks:
Pretzels w/homemade hummus. Dates and walnuts.
Snow Shovel Dinners:
Tortilla pizza topped with odds and ends. It's an amazing thing how, shmearing tomato paste on a tortilla, and topping it with with canned toms, various veggies, garlic and spices, parm, and Monterey Jack cheese, makes a great thin crust pizza. Our second dinner, multi grain waffles, tapped into quinoa, oat, and buckwheat flour reserves. Topped with agave syrup these were hearty and filling, and enough leftovers remained for 3 more breakfasts.
Tonight it will be wontons with fillings TBD, and a batch of creative granola bars, sans oats.
Tomorrow, off to the grocery I'll go.
May your staples always see you through the storm.
Be Well.
Later than night, when the first flakes of snow began to fall, which we soon learned would be a 26 hour snow fall-athon, I realized what I had witnessed earlier was snow panic.
Since my own snow panic never struck, when the storm did, we were left with dwindling remains from food purchases the week prior, frozen produce from summer, and staple dry goods.
So in between hunkering down and digging ourselves out, creative cooking also filled time in the days that followed.
Snow Shovel Breakfasts:
Oatmeal, stretched with couscous, combined with dried milk, (to spare our soy milk from taking a hit) dried fruits, nuts, and spices that were on hand. Day 2 breakfast was "eggy mash", a concoction I created for Umami mornings. This mixture of shredded egg, mayo, soy sauce, Sriracha, and sesame oil, is rich, creamy, salty, and protein packed.
Snow Shovel Snacks:
Pretzels w/homemade hummus. Dates and walnuts.
Snow Shovel Dinners:
Tortilla pizza topped with odds and ends. It's an amazing thing how, shmearing tomato paste on a tortilla, and topping it with with canned toms, various veggies, garlic and spices, parm, and Monterey Jack cheese, makes a great thin crust pizza. Our second dinner, multi grain waffles, tapped into quinoa, oat, and buckwheat flour reserves. Topped with agave syrup these were hearty and filling, and enough leftovers remained for 3 more breakfasts.
Tonight it will be wontons with fillings TBD, and a batch of creative granola bars, sans oats.
Tomorrow, off to the grocery I'll go.
May your staples always see you through the storm.
Be Well.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Raising the Bar
Yesterday it was time to make muffins. The snow outside was a calling to my oven to become steamy, and to emanate smells of warm cinnamon and banana.
My no-recipe muffin formula came together quickly- mashed bananas, oil, sugar, vanilla, milk, egg, and cinnamon, combined together with flours, oats, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Time to jazz up the bowl a bit.
Shelves were scoured and 2 of my finds were dried cranberries and a half bar of dark chocolate.
This particular bar, a hostess gift from way back in October, had oddly survived late night grazing over the past two months. Even intentional household chocolate purchases don't last this long, and therefore never become the baked good it was intended to be. This bar was a survivor.
Partly because, when nibbling through it over the past 2 months, I noticed that while the bar did offer deep dark flavors, an accompanying fatty smooth backdrop was missing, and no satisfaction ever came.
So choppity chopped it was and tossed together with dried cran. The cran-choc combo is kind of odd, kind of dynamic, and much more rich than either ingredient is on its own.
Time for the final mix and the oven was ready to radiate the smells of Cranana Chocolate Muffins.
As for the taste. . . well, when the warm melty dark chocolate met the muffin, let's just say, this time, I was satisfied.
May chocolate cravings be satisfied in many ways this winter season.
Be Well.
My no-recipe muffin formula came together quickly- mashed bananas, oil, sugar, vanilla, milk, egg, and cinnamon, combined together with flours, oats, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Time to jazz up the bowl a bit.
Shelves were scoured and 2 of my finds were dried cranberries and a half bar of dark chocolate.
This particular bar, a hostess gift from way back in October, had oddly survived late night grazing over the past two months. Even intentional household chocolate purchases don't last this long, and therefore never become the baked good it was intended to be. This bar was a survivor.
Partly because, when nibbling through it over the past 2 months, I noticed that while the bar did offer deep dark flavors, an accompanying fatty smooth backdrop was missing, and no satisfaction ever came.
So choppity chopped it was and tossed together with dried cran. The cran-choc combo is kind of odd, kind of dynamic, and much more rich than either ingredient is on its own.
Time for the final mix and the oven was ready to radiate the smells of Cranana Chocolate Muffins.
As for the taste. . . well, when the warm melty dark chocolate met the muffin, let's just say, this time, I was satisfied.
May chocolate cravings be satisfied in many ways this winter season.
Be Well.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
lemons
What happened last night when I opened the fridge and came face to face with empty shelves and bits of this and that. . . I made dinner.
First I reached for the sweet potato, onion, garlic, and frozen corn. Once that was cooked up nicely on the stove top, the question remained. . . what next?
I weighed my options: One tortilla, a pantry full of grains, and 1 batch of leftover pizza dough in the fridge. A peek into the freezer revealed frozen pesto discs from the summer, and the decision was made. . . it would be pizza.
One pesto round coated the veggies nicely, while another round mixed into ricotta. With no mozzarella to be found in my fridge, a half container of leftover ricotta (past its date but not funky yet) would suffice as the cheesy element.
Dough was patted and massaged with oil and garlic, pesto veggies and pesto cheese poured on top, and the oven beeped with anticipation.
425 degrees and 20 minutes later, dinner was ready.
That night, making something out of nothing was quite delicious.
Be Well.
First I reached for the sweet potato, onion, garlic, and frozen corn. Once that was cooked up nicely on the stove top, the question remained. . . what next?
I weighed my options: One tortilla, a pantry full of grains, and 1 batch of leftover pizza dough in the fridge. A peek into the freezer revealed frozen pesto discs from the summer, and the decision was made. . . it would be pizza.
One pesto round coated the veggies nicely, while another round mixed into ricotta. With no mozzarella to be found in my fridge, a half container of leftover ricotta (past its date but not funky yet) would suffice as the cheesy element.
Dough was patted and massaged with oil and garlic, pesto veggies and pesto cheese poured on top, and the oven beeped with anticipation.
425 degrees and 20 minutes later, dinner was ready.
That night, making something out of nothing was quite delicious.
Be Well.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
5 days, 2 breakfasts
Case in point, on day 1 of the conference, I walked into a lunch buffet of deep dish Chicago style pizza, chafing dishes with even more food, some of which were also starchy, and cheesecake. Quite a spread for 12pm on a Wednesday, where the only plan afterward is to sit more, listen a lot, and eat again later!
Having suffered from conference eating syndrome three weeks prior, this time I came prepared to dodge overindulgence by starting the day off on the right foot.
This time, I brought oatmeal.
It was an afterthought really. Minutes before embarking for the airport, quick oats, craisins, raisins, cinnamon, and walnuts were hastily double bagged into a Ziplock and stowed in my tote.
Little did I know what that Ziplock bag would really provide in the days to come.
For four consecutive mornings, the sustenance that came with my hearty, warm, and creamy oatmeal mix, became a stabilizing force for my blood sugars and for my ever changing morning routine. It stuck to my ribs, remedied lingering food hangovers, and harnessed my AWOL prone appetite.
A breakfast thrill seeker I have always been, but on that particular week, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, were all about the familiar.
Then came Sunday. An appreciation brunch for friends who hosted me for the weekend was in order. And so came the crepes.
Crepe making doubt is something many may face. Partly because the crepe has been glorified as gourmet or exotic. But really, the challenge is in its delicacy not in its complexity.
The spinach Havarti mushroom filling satisfied the need for savory, and banana peanut butter chocolate nailed the sweet. The ricotta cinnamon strawberry filling didn't really deliver, but experimentation with fillings are what makes crepes so fun.
May your first meal of the day always be a good one.
Be Well.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Squash in My Cereal
This is the time of year when I have cravings for a taste called WARM.
The tastes, textures, and temperatures of cinnamon oatmeal, ginger pancakes, pumpkin muffins, creamy squash soup, and curried chick peas, all point to WARM.
It's hard to say exactly what warm IS, you just know it when you taste it. So this week, I searched for WARM.
I first found WARM on Wednesday at Whole Foods Market. I opened up my winter squash cooking class with a sample of cinnamon squash oatmeal. When tasting this basic combo of cinnamon, butternut squash, oatmeal, soymilk, and agave syrup, participants lit up as the addition of butternut squash turned up the WARM factor on a basic breakfast staple.
The next day, I found WARM at work. As my colleague and I tinkered with a savory spiced bulgur dish, it was with a quick lift of the lid and a small blast of spicy steam that our verdict became clear: more cinnamon. Combining bulgur with tomatoes and onion made this dish a hearty basic. But with the addition of cinnamon and raisins (raisins were an improvised addition) we had found WARM.
On Friday, along came my head cold. It was WARM I reached for rather than the medicine cabinet.
Into a pot, my husband threw basic staples we had on hand: carrots, onion, chicken stock, corn, potatoes, salt, and pepper. It was clear something was missing, so we added winter squash and toasted baguette slices (staled 7 weeks ago!). With these simple additions, my cold remedy deepened in flavor, thickened in texture, and found its way into WARM. A soothing pot that saw us through the weekend.
May you find WARM and KEEP warm.
Be Well.
The tastes, textures, and temperatures of cinnamon oatmeal, ginger pancakes, pumpkin muffins, creamy squash soup, and curried chick peas, all point to WARM.
It's hard to say exactly what warm IS, you just know it when you taste it. So this week, I searched for WARM.
I first found WARM on Wednesday at Whole Foods Market. I opened up my winter squash cooking class with a sample of cinnamon squash oatmeal. When tasting this basic combo of cinnamon, butternut squash, oatmeal, soymilk, and agave syrup, participants lit up as the addition of butternut squash turned up the WARM factor on a basic breakfast staple.
The next day, I found WARM at work. As my colleague and I tinkered with a savory spiced bulgur dish, it was with a quick lift of the lid and a small blast of spicy steam that our verdict became clear: more cinnamon. Combining bulgur with tomatoes and onion made this dish a hearty basic. But with the addition of cinnamon and raisins (raisins were an improvised addition) we had found WARM.
On Friday, along came my head cold. It was WARM I reached for rather than the medicine cabinet.
Into a pot, my husband threw basic staples we had on hand: carrots, onion, chicken stock, corn, potatoes, salt, and pepper. It was clear something was missing, so we added winter squash and toasted baguette slices (staled 7 weeks ago!). With these simple additions, my cold remedy deepened in flavor, thickened in texture, and found its way into WARM. A soothing pot that saw us through the weekend.
May you find WARM and KEEP warm.
Be Well.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Dough Whisperer
When the time came this week to prepare the second batch of Russian tea biscuits, my confidence was up as I basked in the glow of batch #1 success.
So I doled out a little of this, measured out a little of that, and sifted my way into a dough ball.
But something was amiss. My hands told me the dough offered way too much give and my head told me not to reach for the flour.
If this was a batch of chili, spice it up and we'll call it a day. But when a Crisco and oil pastry dough is deviating from your hopes and expectations, finding a solution can get quite sticky.
With batch #2, it would be with strategy and moderate manual finessing that would turn this ball into a baked good.
Avoiding a full fledged flour intervention, I nudged the tender dough into a rectangle. While holding my breath, fillings were spread and sprinkled, and all was gently rolled up into a log. Amazed at the tenacity of this tender log, I knew it would cave in if taken to the knife.
In this desperate time where no more measuring was to be done, I opted to give the log a little talking to.
"Firm up," I urged the dough.
10 freezing minutes later, the dough emerged from its frosty time out. Having gained some resilience, slices were carefully made and into the oven it went.
Batch #2 was not as attractive and consistent as batch #1, but the Russian tea biscuits tasted great nonetheless.
And by batch #3, I was fluent in dough speak.
Be Well.
So I doled out a little of this, measured out a little of that, and sifted my way into a dough ball.
But something was amiss. My hands told me the dough offered way too much give and my head told me not to reach for the flour.
If this was a batch of chili, spice it up and we'll call it a day. But when a Crisco and oil pastry dough is deviating from your hopes and expectations, finding a solution can get quite sticky.
With batch #2, it would be with strategy and moderate manual finessing that would turn this ball into a baked good.
Avoiding a full fledged flour intervention, I nudged the tender dough into a rectangle. While holding my breath, fillings were spread and sprinkled, and all was gently rolled up into a log. Amazed at the tenacity of this tender log, I knew it would cave in if taken to the knife.
In this desperate time where no more measuring was to be done, I opted to give the log a little talking to.
"Firm up," I urged the dough.
10 freezing minutes later, the dough emerged from its frosty time out. Having gained some resilience, slices were carefully made and into the oven it went.
Batch #2 was not as attractive and consistent as batch #1, but the Russian tea biscuits tasted great nonetheless.
And by batch #3, I was fluent in dough speak.
Be Well.
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