Oatmeal pancakes with cranberry relish

The story of my Italian holiday will have to wait because of a happy intersection between my Saturday breakfast and Blogger Secret Ingredient. This week's host, Johnstone's Vin Blanc, chose oats as the ingredient of the week. Now, I love oats. I have oatmeal frequently, make my own granola, and have a not so secret addiction to granola bars. Really: they are that good.

But this week, I wanted a classic breakfast of a big stack of pancakes. When I want pancakes, my go-to book is The Pancake Handbook from Bette's Oceanview Diner in Berkeley. They are great recipes, though of course they taste better when Bette's kitchen is cooking them for me. Alas, being based in London, I can't have my pancakes and eat them too...

The recipe I chose was the oatmeal-raisin pancake recipe. This batter makes moist, nutty pancakes that -- due to the oats and whole wheat -- we can smugly feel are good for us. My changes to the recipe are to increase the proportion of oats and add a grating of fresh nutmeg, and also to ditch the raisins. The brown sugar gives these a natural sweetness and the addition of nuts is just gilding the lily.

I served the pancakes with some of my favorite cranberry sauce, which I make by the stockpot-ful and squirrel away to have on toast, oatmeal, or pancakes. Or, of course, with roast turkey. It's a sweet, tart, spicy sauce that goes with just about everything and begs you to eat it by the spoonful.

Oatmeal pancakes adapted from The Pancake Handbook

1 C. whole wheat flour

1 C. quick-cooking oats

3 T. brown sugar

1 T. baking powder

1/2 t. salt

2 eggs

1 1/2 C. milk (also good with buttermilk)

2 T. melted butter

1/4 C. chopped walnuts or pecans

In a small bowl, combine the oats with 1 C. milk and let soak for 10 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, salt, and nuts. In another bowl, lightly beat the eggs, then pour them into the oat and milk mixture along with the remaining 1/2 C. milk and the melted butter, then fold the wet into the dry ingredients in the larger bowl. Let sit for 5-10 minutes.

Heat a pat of butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Drop batter onto skillet, about 1/4 C. per pancake. Cook until small bubbles cover surface of the pancake, about 3 minutes, then flip and cook for another 2 minutes until golden brown.

Makes about 16 4" pancakes.

Cranberry relish (adapted from Sunset Magazine)

1 (12-ounce) bag cranberries, rinsed and drained

1 large Granny Smith apple, cored, seeded, and chopped

1 (1-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and thinly slivered, or minced finely

1 cup orange juice

1 cup brown sugar

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

Combine all ingredients in a 3 1/2-quart saucepan. Bring to a boil; reduce heat to low, and simmer, stirring occasionally, 3 minutes or until some cranberries begin to pop and all sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat, and allow to cool. Store, refrigerated, in an airtight container until ready to use. If using slivered ginger, remove before serving or avoid eating the pieces!

Makes 3 1/2 C.

Mid-summer ratatouille with polenta

I have been on vacation in Italy (just to gloat a little) and had intended to set something up to publish automatically while I was away, just in case everyone missed me, but in the pre-holiday craziness I forgot. Better than forgetting to turn off the oven, but I apologize to everyone who pined away for my posts in my absence.

More about Italy soon, but having just flown back in this afternoon (and boy are my arms tired) I am busy doing laundry, making sure nothing major happened at work, and reconciling myself to the fact that my vacation is over. I don't think I have anything in the fridge right now -- I made sure to pour out the dregs of the milk before I left (I have made that mistake before and it is a really smelly welcome home gift) -- so will have to hit the store to see what I can whip up. As much as I have been enjoying my pasta and pizza, I'm thinking tonight might be something more along the lines of a curry or a stir fry just for some variety.

But for now, though the cupboard is bare, I have a little something waiting in the wings to be posted. A few weeks ago, I went on a vegetable shopping spree at Borough Market because summer is all too short and I felt like I needed to lay in a supply, just because it was available. What to do with the bounty, besides put it in my vegetable bowl and admire my still life (which I think sounds much nicer than the French "nature morte", though I suppose the French is technically more true)? Thinking French, I decided a ratatouille -- or at least my interpretation of one -- would be perfect. I could have served it with crusty french bread, toasted, rubbed with garlic, and drizzled with olive oil, but instead I decided to make some polenta. It was a perfect way to celebrate the season.

And now to try to find something for dinner tonight...

Mid-summer ratatouille with polenta

olive oil

1 medium onion, chopped

1 large clove garlic, minced

1 medium carrot, halved & quartered lengthwise, then chopped

1 medium zucchini, halved & quartered lengthwise, then chopped into 1/2 inch thick pieces

1 red, yellow or orange bell pepper, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

1 can chopped tomatoes

1 can chickpeas

fresh basil

In medium sauce pan, heat oil and saute onion until soft. Add garlic, cook for a few minutes. Then add carrot and tomatoes and cook for 5 minutes. Add zucchini and bell pepper, cook until soft but not falling apart. Add chickpeas and heat through. Serve with fresh basil leaves torn over the top, with polenta.

Polenta:

1/2 C. polenta

2 C. water

1 tsp. salt

Boil water. Add polenta to pan of water, whisking to remove clumps, then stir through while polenta thickens and cooks. Polenta is supposed to cook slowly for 30 minutes or more, with the cook stirring all the while. I find I make very tasty polenta in about 5 minutes, just stirring so it doesn't burn.

Serves 2

Zucchini "spaghetti" with broad beans, pancetta and lemon cream

Growing up, a favorite dinner was zucchini spaghetti, which was a clever way of getting us kiddies to eat our vegetables. Zucchini grated into pasta and cheese was not only palatable, but popular. I still crave it to this day. But this day, with zucchini on my hands and spaghetti on my mind, the cupboard was bare. No pasta to be had. What was I to do?

I decided to make my zucchini my spaghetti, and tart up the creamy element with some lemon and creme fraiche. Naturally, what goes with cream is bacon, so some pancetta I had wrapped up in the freezer had its moment. For a little textural contrast, a handful of broadbeans, and I finished the dish with some lemon zest.

The result was a soft but snappy base of vegetables with a decidedly adult sauce. The saltiness of the pancetta, lemony cream of the sauce, and refreshing zucchini base was more than the sum of its parts. I'm not sure I would have liked it as a child, but I certainly ate it up now.

Zucchini "spaghetti" with broad beans, pancetta and lemon cream

1/4 C. pancetta cubes

1 zucchini, cut into long, thin strips

1/3 C. broad beans

2 T. creme fraiche

1 tsp. lemon juice

zest of 1/2 lemon

Trim excess fat off pancetta and cook in a splash of olive oil until any remaining fat is rendered and pancetta browns.

Add broad beans and zucchini strips and cook until they soften, about 3-5 minutes.

Stir through creme fraiche and lemon juice, then heat through. Stir through lemon zest. Add a grinding of black pepper and any extra salt to taste.

Serves 1

Chocolate cake with mocha buttercream

Sunday, bloody Sunday.

Unless you have a great day out planned, or you really, REALLY love your job and can't wait to go into work on Monday morning, Sundays have the potential to be one really long afternoon of dread.

In my case, a very long and stressful previous week, coupled with my partner in crime being called into work (yes, I know -- working on a weekend beats my sitting-at-home dread hands down) and therefore plans going down the drain, added up to one very unhappy me.

Luckily, I belong to the Marie Antoinette school of self-medicating: eating (and baking) cake. Whenever I have a funk to get out of, I like to get out my mixing bowls, baking pans, chocolates creams coconuts chips you name it. Better than a stiff drink, though (with apologies to Sex & the City) I do worry sometimes about ending up in the Betty Crocker clinic. Probably unfounded as no one has staged an intervention yet, but mid-bowl licking, with batter all over my hands and face, I probably look a step away from a support group.

Anyway, today's blues called for the hard stuff: chocolate and coffee. I needed a rich chocolate base for a frenzy of mocha frosting. That meant cocoa, and lots of it. The cake stays moist without being overly fudgy -- distinctively cake, and with a good crumb -- and also without suffering, as many chocolate cakes, from drying out too much. The frosting is a classic buttercream, but with coffee cutting the sweetness and the chocolate rounding out the flavor.

I decorated the cake with little chocolate buttons, but as it was only made for me the finished product didn't last long. And yes, I had two pieces: so apart from a little bit of a stomachache, I felt much better.

Chocolate Cake (Recipe from June 2009 Bon Appetit)

Butter and flour for dusting

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 cup plus 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1 cup boiling water

2 cups sugar

3 large eggs

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Mocha buttercream frosting

4 oz. bittersweet chocolate, broken into small pieces

2 tsp. instant espresso powder or instant coffee granules

3 Tbs. milk

1 C. (8 oz.) butter, softened

1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

1/8 tsp. salt

4 C. powdered/icing sugar

For cake:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line two 8-inch round cake pans with 2-inch-high sides with parchment paper, then butter and dust pan and paper with flour, tapping out any excess. Sift 2 cups flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt into medium bowl. Sift cocoa into another medium bowl. Pour 1 cup boiling water over cocoa; whisk to blend. Using electric mixer, beat sugar and eggs in large bowl until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add butter to egg mixture and beat until blended. Beat in cocoa mixture. Add buttermilk and vanilla; beat to blend. Add dry ingredients and beat on low just to blend. Transfer batter to prepared pans; smooth top.

Bake cakes until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 35-40 minutes. Cool cakes completely in pan on rack. This cake can stand to be slightly underbaked.

For buttercream:

Either melt chocolate in a double boiler or in microwave (put chocolate in small, uncovered, microwave-safe bowl on high for 45 seconds; stir. If pieces retain some of their original shape, microwave at additional 10- to 15-second intervals, stirring just until melted. Cool to room temperature). The former is traditional, the latter is much easier.

Beat butter, vanilla extract and salt in large mixer bowl for 3 minutes. Beat in melted chocolate until blended, scraping occasionally. Gradually beat in powdered sugar until light and fluffy. Dissolve instant coffee in milk, then beat into buttercream, 1 tablespoon at a time, until desired spreading consistency is achieved. Add more milk if necessary.

Assembly:

Invert one layer onto cake dish. Spread thick layer of buttercream over top of the layer, then set second layer, right side up, on top of filling. Smooth buttercream over top and sides. Decorate as the muse takes you, or leave plain for a classic look.

Serves 12 happy people, or 3-4 depressed people

Curried chicken with rhubarb and lentils

In June, in the height of rhubarb season, this recipe appeared in the "A Good Appetite" column in the NY Times. I didn't get around to making it right away, but kept it in mind as I laid away some rhubarb in the freezer for its eventual use in this dish. Rhubarb season is too short, I think, and I love it so much in crumble, pie, and compote that I would hardly dare to use it in a savory dish.

Nevertheless, I decided to try to something different, and this looked like just the dish. Melissa Clark was inspired to substitute rhubarb, with its natural astringency, for vinegar in a curry sauce. She used duck legs, but I had chicken pieces. I also changed the proportions slightly, and forgot the onions in the main dish, so my adaptations are below. The end result was a beautiful, heady dish. The smaller pieces of rhubarb melted gloriously into the sauce, while the larger pieces managed to retain their shape.

I also decided to serve it with some gently spiced lentils, using the same flavors as in the main recipe. I could almost have eaten them straight, forgetting about the main dish. That's the hallmark of the best side dishes (does anyone else choose what to order in a restaurant based on the side dishes?).

While I'm not sure that rhubarb crumble could ever be knocked off its pedestal as the zenith of rhubarb recipes, next time I make some I will save some stalks for this dish. I was amazed at the chameleon-like flavor of rhubarb, how it can be so different with sugar and with spice (but always definitely nice).

Curried chicken with Rhubarb by Melissa Clark

2 pounds whole chicken legs (2 or 3) or chicken pieces

Kosher salt

2 Tbsp. olive oil

1 large onion, diced

6 garlic cloves, chopped

1 4-inch-long piece fresh ginger, peeled and chopped

1 Tbsp. garam masala

1 Tbsp. cider vinegar

1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper, or more to taste

1/2 tsp. ground turmeric

1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

1/3 C. unsweetened coconut milk

1/2 pound rhubarb, sliced 1/2 -inch thick (2 cups)

1 Tbsp. brown sugar

Chopped fresh cilantro or chives, for garnish.

Heat oil in a large skillet or sauté pan over high heat. Add as many pieces of chicken as fit easily. Brown on one side, about 7 minutes. Turn and brown other side. Transfer to a bowl. Repeat if necessary.

While chicken browns, combine 1 C. onion, garlic, ginger, garam masala, vinegar, cayenne, turmeric, black pepper, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 cup water in a blender, and process until smooth.

When chicken is done, spoon out all but about 2 tablespoons of fat from skillet (if necessary). Add ginger-garlic paste and cook until most of the liquid evaporates, about 2 minutes.

Add coconut milk and 2 cups water, and bring to a simmer. Add rhubarb, brown sugar, chicken and any juices that may have accumulated in bowl. Bring to a boil. Cover and turn heat to low, and simmer gently for 1 hour, turning chicken pieces halfway through. Uncover pan, turn chicken again, and let simmer uncovered for 10 minutes.

Spoon any accumulated fat off sauce and serve right away or, better, chill overnight and degrease sauce before reheating all on a low flame. Serve garnished with cilantro or chives.

Yield: 4 servings.

Lightly spiced lentils (by moi!)

1/2 Tbs. oil

1/2 C. finely chopped onion

1 tsp. minced ginger

1 tsp. garam masala

1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper

1/2 tsp. turmeric

1 tsp. cider vinegar

1 C. brown lentils

2 C. water

salt to taste

Saute onion and ginger in oil until soft. Add spices and cook for a few minutes, stirring, until fragrant. Add lentils, water, and vinegar and simmer over low heat for about 30 minutes, or until lentils are soft but still retain their shape.

Serves 4

Lime & coconut panna cotta with blueberries

This week's BSI challenge, hosted by My Kitchen Addiction, is lime.

The lime is certainly a good challenge ingredient: a little bit sweet, a little bit tart, but with an alluring (if elusive) flavor and scent. What to make to capture both? I first thought about the key lime pie, imagined lime squares, paused briefly on some lime-based ceviche, but finally decided I was going to make a creamy, zesty, lime panna cotta. I could almost taste the flavors and almost see the beautiful little wobble it would make when inverted onto a serving plate. Also, it's incredibly easy and quick to make (aside from the chilling time).

Alas, it was not to be. I realized I had no gelatin, and no stores in South East London (ok, within a 15 minute walk of my flat) stocked anything.

Then Plan B came to me, or more specifically, "Plan Coconut Milk Pudding which is sort of like Panna Cotta but doesn't need gelatin." (And, hey! is vegan.) I have made very successful chocolate puddings with milk and cornstarch, so I thought I'd try it here with some coconut milk (to give it a little extra flavor, plus: lime & coconut = culinary perfection). I warmed the coconut milk, added the lime juice and some sugar -- enough of both to give a pretty good dose of lime flavor without completely overwhelming the poor tastebuds -- and then stirred in my thickener. I added some blueberries to the coconut mixture when I poured it into my ramekins. I briefly contemplated making a blueberry and lime sauce instead, but decided I liked the fresh blueberries better.

And you know what, it came out pretty well. Lesson learned: always do what the song says and put the lime in the coconut. Here's a picture (post-digging in) so you can see the beautiful blueberries hovering in the coconut cream.

Lime & coconut panna cotta with blueberries

2 C. coconut milk (regular or light or a mixture of both)

3 Tbsp. lime juice

3 Tbsp. sugar

3 Tbsp. cornstarch

Zest of 1 lime

handful of blueberries

Arrange 4 ramekins with a circle of baking parchment to line the bottom of each. This will help the panna cotta to release when ready to serve.

Gently heat coconut milk, lime juice and sugar (adjusting the proportions of the lime and the sugar depending on the sweetness and acidity of your lime). Scoop out 1/4 C. of the coconut milk and whisk the cornstarch in before returning the mixture to the pan. Keep whisking while it heats and thickens. It should thicken nicely before getting to a full boil, at which point remove from heat.

Let the mixture cool slightly, then pour into ramekins, mixing blueberries in. Chill for at least 2-3 hours. To serve, dip ramekin into hot water for 5 seconds or so, then invert onto a plate. (At least this is what should happen. I had to run a knife around the edge of mine to get them to slip out.)

Serves 4

Pasta primavera

Pasta primavera means springtime pasta, but pasta estate doesn't sound quite so appetizing, if more seasonally appropriate. This is high summer pasta -- when the tomatoes start to burst open, the summer squash is in full swing, and you can smell a basil plant a mile away. Yes, and the living is easy: this dish can be made in 10 minutes, provided you can chop quickly enough.

The beauty of this particular recipe is that it is not really a recipe at all, but more of a suggested line of inquiry. Any vegetables will do, in any combination, and any quantities. Feta, goat's cheese, mozzarella -- the world is your oyster (am I mixing my foodie metaphors here?). And on a long, warm evening, watching the world slide into dusk, with a glass of a good pinot grigio from Orvieto, or a vernaccia from San Gimigniano, you couldn't ask for more flavor from less work.

Pasta primavera

1/2 lb pasta

1 clove garlic, minced

1 large or 2 small green onions

10-12 plum tomatoes

Handful peas or frozen soy beans

1 medium zucchini, cut into batons

2-4 Tbsp. Fresh basil, chiffonade

crumbled feta

Cook pasta according to instructions. While pasta is cooking, saute garlic in a little olive oil in a large skillet. Add zucchini and cook until soft, but still crisp. Add peas and green onions, then heat tomatoes through for just a minute. Once pasta is drained, mix with vegetables, basil and feta.

Serves 2