Orange Pistachio Muffins

I am something of a teacher-pleaser. I am also somewhat lazy, which means I was never consistently A+ material. But that desire to meet expectations, to be thought of as a pleasure (and not, as those of us with questionable parenting occasionally fear, a burden) runs deep. And this compulsion extends to surprising places. Such as, on a recent Tuesday, doggie daycare.

Now, I am wholly convinced of the virtues of my dog, and the appeal of his gentle nature and all-around positive attitude (not a family trait). But I figure it doesn't hurt to stack the deck. And so, when I drop him off to spend a few hours at doggie daycare, I'm not above throwing in a little sugar to help make him the teachers' pet. Like these orange pistachio muffins.

I am normally a hard sell on the sweet breakfast, preferring the protein hit of the humble egg. But these muffins are perfect — a light and lovely mix of rich green pistachios and punchy orange zest, tender and sweet without veering into cupcake territory. While I do love to start the day with an apple (I've been obsessed with the Pink Lady recently), I'd argue that these make an even better gift for the teacher. Gold star!

Orange Pistachio Muffins 

yields 10 muffins (you can portion the batter to make an even dozen, but I favor a nearly-overflowing muffin, as what's the fun of a muffin without a nice muffintop?)

1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon coarse salt
1/2 stick butter, melted and slightly cooled (if you fancy, brown the butter in a small saucepan, melting it until it takes on a toasty color, for an even more delicious depth of flavor)
2/3 cup sugar, plus additional for topping
1 egg
3/4 cup sour cream
1/4 cup orange juice
zest from 1 orange
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon orange blossom or rosewater (optional)
1/2 heaping cup chopped pistachios, plus additional for topping

Preheat your oven to 375° Fahrenheit. Grease 10 muffin cups, and set aside.

Sift together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix together the melted butter, sugar, egg, sour cream, orange juice and zest, and extract(s) until well combined. Add the wet ingredients to the dries, give a turn or two, then sprinkle in the pistachios. Mix until just barely combined (better to under- than over-mix).

Quickly divide the mixture into muffin cups, coming just a bit below the lip of the cup. Sprinkle a dusting of sugar over the batter (you should need just a few spoonfuls for the whole tray), and then top with a sprinkling of pistachios. Bake until lightly golden and a tester comes out clean, ~15-20 minutes. Let cool slightly, then pop out of the muffin tin, wrap in a clean tea towel, and present to your teacher (or anyone else you desire).

Savory Hamantaschen

I have spoken before about the beauty of hamantaschen, the tri-cornored cookies baked on the holiday of Purim to represent Haman's hat (or depending on the tradition, his ears). But this year I got to thinking — why should these delicious pastries be the only triangular food I eat on this holiday? Why not take this idea to its logical (or, you know, not-so-logical) conclusion?

And so, I present the wide world of savory hamantaschen. All sorts of 'taschen. They've been ably photographed by the amazing Leela Cyd, and can found over at Bon Appetit. Happy Purim!

Porridge!

My college was located in the same town as a Malt-O-Meal processing plant, churning out boxes of hot cereal. On clear, crisp days — especially in the fall — there would be this lovely toasty smell in the air. Like bread, but slightly sweeter. Reassuring, comforting, and somehow a bit encouraging. Like hot cereal itself. There's something about the toasty smell that still reminds me of that time, of clear fall afternoons and being young and the terrifying sense of possibility of it all.

I haven't had a bowl of Malt-O-Meal in years — perhaps not since college. But I'm a big fan of the surprisingly wide world of porridge. And if you think beyond the box, and beyond oatmeal, you can find all sorts of delicious porridgey inspiration. Even if you don't have the same adolescent associations, it's still enough to warm your belly and soul. I give a rundown of the wide world of porridge (including the amaranth porridge with mango, coconut, lime and ginger pictured above) over at NPR's Kitchen Window.

Egg-Lemon Soup with Crab, Orzo and Arugula

There seem to be these strange unspoken rules about what makes for a Valentine's Day meal. It's got to be chocolate, or steak, or some gooey-with-cheese risotto or such. But I argue that's limited thinking. Special occasion dishes (be they for your special someone or a party of one) need not (and, arguably, best not) be dripping with heavy flavors. They can be light and lovely, yet still totally befitting of a special evening. Like this soup.

I adapted this recipe from the amazing Silvena Rowe, who tends to give an interesting Ottoman spin to anything she touches. The end result is a riff on the avgolemono soup common throughout Mediterranean. It's tart yet rich, studded with slippery orzo, a luxurious bite of sweet and briny crabmeat, and a handful of arugula to brighten things up. It's a refreshing different entry into the Fancy Soup category (a category that seems populated exclusively with sherry-spiked cream bisques). It might even be my new Valentine.

Egg-Lemon Soup with Crab, Orzo and Arugula

adapted from Silvena Rowe's Purple Citrus and Sweet Perfume (her original version is much heavier on the egg yolks, so feel free to play around if you fancy a richer, thicker soup)

yields 4 small first-course servings, or 2-3 main course servings

1 quart chicken broth or stock
1/4 cup orzo
2 egg yolks
juice of 1 large lemon (or more, to taste)
1/4 — 1/2 pound picked crab meat
several handfuls arugula
several pinches crushed sumac (optional, available at Middle Eastern grocery stores)

In a large saucepan or small pot, bring the broth to a boil over a medium-high heat. Add the orzo, and reduce the heat until it's just high enough to maintain a simmer. Cook until the orzo is quite tender, ~20 minutes.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and lemon zest. Ladle in a half cup of the hot stock, whisk to temper, then pour the mixture back into the pot. Whisk to combine, then taste and adjust seasonings as needed. Let simmer for a minute to heat, then add the crab meat and arugula. Let cook for a minute or two, until the arugula is just wilted and the crab is heated through. Ladle into bowls, top with a pinch of sumac, and serve.

Shaved Brussels Sprouts with Kumquats and Scallop

Every now and then you make a dish so show-stoppingly delicious, so interesting and elegant and just plain perfect that your friends will ask why it is that you don't just open a restaurant. This salad is such a dish.

To be fair, I actually did steal the inspiration for this salad from a lovely local restaurant, where my friend and I were lucky enough to enjoy it just about a year ago. And, like the best of these no-home-chef-could-have-thought-of-that dishes, it's actually surprisingly simple. Brussels sprouts are shaved into thin slivers, dressed with a basic vinaigrette, then tossed with skin-and-all slices of of the season's tiniest, punchiest citrus (my local natural market happened to have both kumquats and mandarinquats for a fun bit of variety, but just one type would be fine). And then the whole affair is topped with a perfectly seared scallop (and yes, these tend to be expensive, but you only need one or two per person to create the magic).

The end result is ridiculous, just miles from your standard dinner salad. Crunchy sprouts, juicy sour citrus, and the sweet, briny scallop. It's perfect as a jaw-dropping first course for a dinner party, or a date night in (hello, Valentine's Day!). We served ours with a crusty baguette, a rich and creamy soup, and a cold bottle of Trader Joe's cheapest white wine. We joked about the restaurant I could open (named, for reasons too ridiculous to discuss, Cloen), and the price this meal could command ($50 per was suggested). But really, who wants to worry about restaurant rents and staffing and overhead (and other things we know next to nothing about) when we can just light some candles, call our next door neighbors to come over, and enjoy a dish like this on a Monday night?

Shaved Brussels Sprouts with Kumquats and Scallops

inspired by a dish at Evoe
serves 4

8 good-sized scallops (if they're ridiculously large, you can just use 4)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons mellow vinegar, such as sherry, or fresh lemon juice
small dollop of honey or pinch sugar
salt and pepper
~1 1/2 cups Brussels sprouts, washed and peeled of any bad outer leaves
~8 kumquats, or 4 kumquats and 2-4 mandarinquats
high-heat oil, such as grapeseed, for frying the scallops

Place the scallops on a paper towel-lined plate, and refrigerate, uncovered, for 30 minutes to dry out and enable a good sear (in the name of posterity, I would like to state that I got a crazy good sear on mine, but we ate too late for pictures so I shot this with leftovers — do not judge me by my morning-after softened scallop).

To make the dressing, whisk together the olive oil, vinegar, and hone/sugar in a small dish, and season to taste with salt and pepper (the citrus will contribute acidity, so your dressing can be a bit on the oily side). Set aside.

With a mandoline or knife (if you, like me, don't have a mandoline), slice the Brussels sprouts as thinly as possible. Place in a bowl, and toss with the dressing, to separate the shreds and coat with dressing. Divide among your serving dishes. Slice your kumquats (and/or mandarinquats) relatively thinly as well, flicking out any seeds, and divide among the plates.

Take the scallops out of the refrigerator, and season with a sprinkling of salt. Heat a large pan (not non-stick) over a medium high heat. Add a slick of oil, and when it just begins to smoke, add the scallops. Cook until they develop a nice crust and release from the pan, then turn and sear on the second side. Top each salad with two scallops (or one, if they're large and you're using half the amount), and serve.

Sunday Roast (Salmon)

I am a firm believer that, with the right attitude, just about anything can be a celebration. Especially dinner. I have long been a fan of baking whole salmon, both for the ridiculously good deal that can often be had on a whole fish, as well as all those leftovers it yields for your soup or kedgeree (or, more often than not, tacos). But there's also the grandeur of it, the occasion of pulling a spectacular groaning tray out of the oven. And, while you're heating it up anyway, why not roast some vegetables? And make a puckery-bright salsa verde to slather over everything? You can find the recipes for all of this deliciousness (and a pudding to boot) over at NPR's Kitchen Window.

Gluten-Free Sesame Crackers

Years ago, my friend Emily was freaking out over an international trip she and her husband were planning, and the stress it would put on their tight finances. She mentioned these gnawing fears to an older neighbor, who gave her these words of wisdom: money is for travel and education. And she's so right.

As much as I am reduced to obsessive researching and wavering over any purchase totaling more than about $25 (beyond food), I know that those are the two categories where you must unequivocally open your purse strings. It's what the purse is for. There's no way around it — travel and education pretty much always come with a hefty price tag. But paying the price tag opens up the world to you, and makes your life so much richer for it.

A few months ago, my dear friend (and former housemate) was faced with a likely downsize at work. So he decided to opt for the most awesome of responses: he's packing up his belongings, renting out his house, and spending a full year traveling the world with his love. Morocco, Ghana, Italy, Croatia, Russia, China, India, Vietnam, New Zealand. And more. They got it right, and I'm so happy for them. And just a tiny bit fiercely jealous.

But the downside to this great idea is that some people I like a lot are going to be pretty far away. So when my friend mentioned a brief window in his packing/working/appointment-making/task-checking life yesterday, I jumped at the chance to come over. But I couldn't come empty handed. Since he offered to provide the fire and cocktail, I figured I could bring the cheese and crackers.

But how could I bring store-bought crackers for such an occasion? And especially, how could I bring store-bought crackers when my friend is gluten-free? GF crackers are often off-the-charts expensive, and/or of an entirely different species. They'll be rice-based, or just a small paving of seeds — good in their own right, but not the traditional cocktail hour cheese accompaniment. Also, who can bear spending $6 for a box of what is, essentially, flour and water? Well, also butter.

I was first converted to the cracker-making gospel by my friend Ivy, who kindly gave me some feedback on going gluten-free (namely too much cornstarch renders a cracker "thirsty," and butter gives a nicer flaky texture than olive oil). I also threw in some sesame seeds, because I love them, baked them up, and grabbed an assortment of cheeses and a nice crisp apple. And we sat down in front of the wood stove while my dog chewed some kindling, and ate our cheese and flaky, savory, delicious crackers, and drank a toast to the world. I hear it's lovely.

Gluten-Free Sesame Crackers

yield will vary depending upon cracker size, but should be ~3 dozen

4 1/2 ounces (a heaping cup) brown rice flour
2 ounces (~1/2 cup) sorghum flour
2 ounces (~1/3 cup) cornstarch
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon coarse salt (plus additional for sprinkling)
1/2 teaspoon xanthan gum
6 tablespoons cold butter, cut into pats (you can substitute shortening for a vegan version)
3 tablespoons sesame seeds (or a bit more, if you like it extra seedy)
~1/2 cup cold water

Preheat your oven to 400° Fahrenheit. Take out two cookie sheets, a rolling pin, and a few sheets of parchment paper.

In a food processor or large bowl, mix together the rice flour, sorghum flour, cornstarch, baking powder, salt, and xanthan gum. Add the butter, and pulse (if using a food processor) or cut with a pastry cutter or two knives until it's reduced to little oatmeal-sized bits (don't over-process, as you want your crackers to be flaky). Turn the mixture into a large bowl, and mix in the sesame seeds. Add the water, starting with a scant half cup at first and adding more as necessary, until the mixture comes together in a nice ball of dough.

Divide the dough in half. Leave half in the bowl (covered, so it doesn't dry out), and place the other dough ball between two sheets of parchment paper. Roll out with a rolling pin until it's quite thin, ~1/16th-inch. Cut into cracker shapes of your choosing (you can use a pizza wheel to cut squares or rectangles, or make things more difficult for yourself and cut out rounds and re-roll the scraps). Place the crackers on a parchment-lined sheet (you don't need too much space between), dock them a few times with a fork so that they don't puff up, and sprinkle with bit of additional salt. Bake until browned, ~15 minutes. Let cool slightly, then serve with cheese to celebrate world travel.