Free Will Granola

Spending a few days in bed sick gets me feeling a little crazy, and a little philosophical. Viruses can be very persuasive in their arguments for determinism, but this morning my lizard brain slept in and the higher functions were able to coax me into giving free will another go.

“It’s time for action!” they chirped.

“You can beat this!” they encouraged.

“Mind over matter!” they cajoled.

“What’s for breakfast?” they nagged.

So, I went to it and made granola, wheezing all the while. Pretty soon I was beyond exhausted and ready to grab my jar of Vicks Vaporub and crawl back into bed, but I had a nice supply of yummy comfort cereal to show for my work and help me get through the rest of my sick time. Chalk one up for agency.

Invictus
by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

Be the master of your fate and the captain of your soul—make granola!

Free Will Granola

• 3-1/2 cups rolled oats
• 1/2 cup oat bran
• 1/3 cup sunflower seeds
• 1/4 cup sesame seeds
• 1/4 cup pumpkin seeds
• 1/4 cup canola oil
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1-1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
• 3 tablespoons real maple syrup
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 3 tablespoons hot water
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup flax seeds
• 3/4 cup chopped or slivered almonds
• 3/4 cup desiccated coconut

Preheat oven to 250 degrees. Cover the bottom of a shallow baking pan with parchment paper or coat with a light misting of cooking spray. 

Combine oats, oat bran, sunflower, sesame, and pumpkin seeds in a large bowl.

In a small bowl, mix together the oil, honey, cinnamon, maple syrup, vanilla, hot water, and salt—use a fork and stir till well-blended. Pour mixture over the dry ingredients and stir till evenly coated.

Add in the flax seeds, almonds, and coconut and mix well.

Spread the granola evenly in the pan. Bake for an hour, stirring the mix occasionally, until it turns lightly golden. Cool in pan. Enjoy!

Makes two quarts and some change.

Muffins that make you dance

Here are some baked goods guaranteed to put poop pep in your step. Bran muffins, mm-mmm, delicious! No, really.

Stepdance Bran Muffins

• 2 tablespoons canola oil
• 1/4 cup black strap molasses
• 1 large egg
• 3/4 cup milk
• 1 cup wheat bran (or wheat bran and oat bran, mixed)
• 3/4 cup whole wheat flour, the fresher the better
• 1/4 cup almond meal (or more whole wheat flour, if you haven’t got any)
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/8 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 cup  slivered almonds
• cooking spray

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line a muffin tin with paper muffin cups and coat them inside with cooking spray. 

In a medium-sized bowl, beat together the oil, molasses, egg, and milk till smooth. Stir in the bran and let it absorb the liquids. 

Mix together the other dry ingredients and stir into the bran mixture until the dry mix has been thoroughly moistened. Spoon into the muffin cups and bake for 20 minutes.

Makes 12 muffins.

Near-Beer Quick Bread

 

Humulus lupulus

 

Hops harvest

It was my fortune this week to inherit two boxes of cookbooks from an elderly ladyfriend who passed away recently. In going through her collection, I’ve been pleased to find a few gems—books on Welsh and English cookery, foraging, herbs, and multi-cultural breadmaking. Remembering that I had three cans of non-alcoholic O’Doul’s in the pantry (leftover from making my fabulous Danger Chili—must remember to post that recipe), I was inspired to try a batch of Beer Bread. 

Generally, I am a salt-lover, but this recipe called for none of the stuff. I sat on my impulse to add it in, figuring it was better to test the recipe at least once as is. (Trying to turn over a new leaf here and stop my habit of second-guessing other good cooks.) It turned out to be a very lovely, different sort of flavor—mildly sweet, thanks to the “near-beer,” and quite agreeable. I pan-fried a few slices this morning in some butter and salt, and that was nice too, with a slathering of orange marmalade. 

This is a quick recipe to throw together, though it takes a scant hour to bake. I recommend freshly-ground flour for best flavor. Here’s my version of a great bread by Anna Poli of Yerington, Nevada.

Near-Beer Quick Bread

• 3 cups whole wheat flour, freshly-ground
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 tablespoons honey
• 1 12-ounce can or bottle of O’Doul’s or other non-alcoholic beer
• butter

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F. Grease a medium-sized loaf pan.

Mix the dry ingredients together in a bowl. Drizzle honey on top of dry mix, pour the neer-bear over all, and stir everything only till the flour is moistened. Pour batter into the loaf pan and bake for 55 minutes.

As soon as you remove the pan from the oven, pop out the loaf and rub its sides and top with butter. This bread is especially good while hot, but is also nice at room temperature, or toasted.

Makes 1 loaf.

Coconut Cardamon Rice Pudding

I have no great dreams to report this morning, so I’ll jump back into recipe-sharing. I felt the need for some comfort food for breakfast, and this is what I came up with. There must be thousands of ways to make rice pudding, and I hope to live long enough to try most of them. This combination’s definitely one to revisit though.

Coconut Cardamon Rice Pudding

• 2 1/2 cups rice milk, plain
• 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1/3 cup basmati rice
• 1 heaping teaspoon fresh orange zest
• 1/4 teaspoon cardamon
• 2 eggs
• 1/8 to 1/4 cup dark brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon tapioca starch
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 shelled pistachios
• 1/2 cup raw cashews

In a small saucepan combine rice milk, butter, salt, rice, coconut, orange zest, and cardamon. Stir together. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for 20 minutes, stirring frequently. 

In a small bowl, whisk eggs with brown sugar and tapioca starch. While continuing to whisk, mix a tablespoon of the hot rice mixture into the egg mixture and blend well. Repeat this three more times. Then add mixture to the saucepan and stir well. Turn heat to a lower setting and cook, uncovered, until pudding has thickened a bit, around 20 minutes, give or take a few. Watch carefully and stir often during this time. Do not allow to boil, or eggs will likely separate. 

While the pudding gently cooks, shell pistachios and dry roast cashews in a pan on the stovetop, over medium-high heat. Stir cashews often so they don’t burn. When the pudding is finished thickening, stir in the vanilla, remove from heat, add both kinds of nuts, mix, and serve. 

Feeds 2 generously and up to 4 adequately.

Dreaming of c (jane)

I have a small backlog of recipes to post, and also it occurs to me that the dream snippets I keep meaning to share here are piling up. In the spirit of “the last shall be first,” I’ll start with a dream I had this afternoon while I was taking a sick-day nap. 

I dreamed of c jane one other time, right before she turned 30 in 2007. It was one of those stunning little night visions that make you sit up and take notice (kind of like c jane herself), a dream that says, “Hey, sleepyhead, you really want to take a closer look at me. No kidding. You won’t be sorry. Come on, say it with me now: payoff.” I shared my dream with her as a sort of birthday present (am I cheap or what?), and she seemed as moved by it as I was. The interpretations we came up with, independently of each other, agreed. I still think of that dream with wonder. I won’t post it here, but I will ramble about today’s dream a bit.

(And by the way, this was not one of my pizza dreams; it played out on an empty, pre-lunch stomach.)

Today in Slumberland I was once again with c jane in her world, this time in her own home and not her parents’. I was a guest staying there and got to view her in her element, functioning as a new mother. I didn’t get to see or interact much myself with c jane, but knew she was there at home, wrapped up in the Chief, in her family.

In one room I saw two of her nieces, Claire and Jane, sitting side-by-side, a little younger than I’d have expected them to be in person, and exactly the same size. They were busily talking and didn’t notice me. In another room, the bathroom, I saw a dirty dipe left standing upright, apparently where the Chief was last in it when his mama changed his bum, and the dipe was surprisingly bigger than newborn size. Age and size, like everything else in dreams, are not confined by any of the waking-life rules. Chronological order? Linear growth? So passé! The house was quiet as I walked through. I came to a room that smelled like a fresh cleanser; there was a mop and a bucket and a vacuum, and signs of in-process scrubbing, though again, I didn’t happen upon c jane in person. I thought to myself, “She’s doing alright,” and admired that she was finding energy to begin multi-tasking. Caring for a new baby and managing to clean even one room? I don’t know about you, but to me, that’s impressive.

The last part of the dream that hasn’t fuzzed beyond my remembrance is the part where I walked into another room and found a tape recorder. I pushed PLAY and listened to c jane sing “Song for the Mira” in the most wonderfully lovely voice. I’m guessing that just about all of you who read this will have no association with this song. It’s a folk song sung in Nova Scotia, very sweet, very sentimental in the best kind of way. I learned it recently while playing guitars with some women from my ‘hood; my friend Sherry taught it to us. She wanted to learn it because it was a song her father strummed and sang to her when she was growing up, and now that she has two baby girls and is taking up guitar she wants to be able to play and sing it to them. It really is dear. Anyhow, c jane sang it so clearly and melodically. For me that song has come to represent a deep and magical parental love-bond, thanks to my friend. I know c jane occasionally loves to belt her favorite tunes and is a great fun sport about her infamous diva-bility, but I’m telling you, folks, in my dream, her voice was unadorned, perfectly on-key, flowing, and beautiful. I thought to myself that her children would grow up thinking she sang with the loveliest voice in the world. 

And for them, she will.

Song for the Mira
by Allister MacGillivray

Out on the Mira on warm afternoons
Old men go fishing with black line and spoons
And if they catch nothing they never complain
And I wish I was with them again

As boys in the boats call to girls on the shore
Teasing the ones that they dearly adore
And into the evening the courting begins
And I wish I was with them again

(chorus)
Can you imagine a piece of the universe
More fit for princes and Kings
I’ll trade you ten of your cities For Marion Bridge
And the pleasure it brings

Out on the Mira on soft summer nights
Bonfires blaze to the children’s delight
They dance round the flames singing songs with their friends
And I wish I was with them again.

And over the ashes the stories are told
Of witches and werewolves and Oak Island gold
Stars on the riverface sparkle and spin
I wish I was with them again

(chorus)

Out on the Mira, the people are kind
They’ll treat you to homebrew, and help you unwind
And if you come broken they’ll see that you mend
I wish I was with them again

Now I’ll conclude with a wish you go well
Sweet be your dreams, and your happiness swell
I’ll leave you here for my journey begins
I’m going to be with them again

Attaining latke nirvana

This is not quite it, the perfect latke, but it’s not bad. Easy, earthy, amiable—really, how can you ever go wrong with potato pancakes? I had taters on the brain this morning and so here is my spud experiment du jour. (The quest for the celestial continues . . . .)

Golden Latkes, v.1

• 2 cups yellow potatoes, grated
• 1/2 small onion, grated
• scant teaspoon RealSalt
• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup self-rising flour
• olive oil
• lime juice
• plain yogurt
• hemp seeds

After grating the potatoes, squeeze them a small handful at a time over a sieve and get them as dry as you can (but don’t obsess). In a medium-sized bowl, mix together the potatoes, onions, salt, and eggs. Add self-rising flour and stir well. Cover a medium-hot griddle with olive oil. Make latkes as big or small as you like, but do make sure you spread and flatten out your scoops so they aren’t too thick to cook through. Brown latkes; just a few minutes each on each side should do it. Arrange latkes on plates, squeeze a little lime juice on them. Serve with a generous dollop of yogurt and sprinkle with hemp seeds. 

Chicka chicka bon bon

Thanks to Bakerella I came up with a pretty successful Mother’s Day offering this year. It was my first serious attempt at anything bon bon-like. For once in my life I didn’t deviate from the recipe, and discovered this particular formula is a dangerous combination of rich and addictive. I don’t know if this is a good or a bad thing, but oh, have I got ideas! Improvements! Experiments! I’ve already dreamed up a dozen or so variations on the theme, and none of them involve cake mixes. Scratch, baby, pure scratch.

Can you see trouble ahead for me and my guinea pigs? Guess I’d better watch it with the bon bons, or we’ll all end up roly poly.

Take it away, Jim . . .

Mediterranean Miracle Sandwich

Do you ever panic about food? I do. Today was the kind of day that sets you way behind a healthy schedule; work makes extra demands and before you know it, it’s two . . . three . . . four hours beyond your usual lunchtime, and you’ve got nothing prepared, no ideas, and what’s worse, no groceries because you’ve been too busy to go shopping. 

So there I stood, holding the fridge door open way too long, letting all the cold air out, waiting for a revelation. A bunch of parsley? Useless. A big purple eggplant? Takes too long to prepare. Eggs? Had them for breakfast. Bread? Maybe, but there’s nothing to put on it. An old tired turnip? Last winter’s butternut squash, now depressed by spring? The brown botulism from the back corner of the middle shelf? 

Ground lamb! Now there’s the ticket! I formed it into patties and optimistically broke out the cast iron, but without a clear plan. Uh-oh. While the meat cooked I wrung my hands and stared into the fridge some more. And it finally came, the inspiration. Here it is, and it actually turned out to be the most enjoyable emergency invention I’ve et in a long time. Hoob, my amused lunch companion agreed. Try it; you’ll like it too. 

LAMB (ground, not grilled)

FETA CHEESE, sliced thin

leftover BRUSSELS SPROUTS (I’m not kidding), cooked, cold, sliced

MUSTARD

BREAD, brown

Making a salad, making a start

Welcome to Pizza Dreams! This blog is devoted to two of my favorite pastimes, eating and sleeping, and the place where they frequently meet for colorful wrestling matches: in dreams. Hopefully what gets posted here will whet your appetite for trying new foods and exploring your own nightly short stories. Please feel free to comment and share your triumphs in the kitchen and your (family-friendly) adventures in Slumberland.

Yesterday my husband and I shared a very simple, very flavorful midday meal, and the two recipes I debuted seem like a proper start for this blog. Hope you’ll try them and like them, or find some new ways to adapt them to your taste.

The first recipe evolved from a suggestion I read once about adding toasted  sesame seeds to peanut butter. I do it occasionally, and with the addition of a little honey, it’s really quite elegant, if you can believe that. I make some version of it whenever peanut butter begins to seem a little homely all by itself.

The second recipe was inspired by this post from my lovely friend Mirjam, who is an excellent cook. I was smitten by her gorgeously oranged photo and decided to make her salad right away. Trouble was, I didn’t have one of the two main ingredients. So, true to my nature, I improvised. What I came up with was a new salad altogether, a cousin to Mirjam’s but with a sure family resemblance.  I think you should try hers and mine. 

Seedy Nut Sandwich Butter

• all-natural creamy peanut butter (Adam’s is a good choice)
• raw sesame seeds
• raw sunflower seeds
• golden flax seeds
• honey

Scoop into a small bowl as much peanut butter as you think you and any lunch companions will need for your sandwiches. In a small cast iron pan over medium-low heat, toast (without oil or butter) sesame, flax, and sunflower seeds, stirring frequently and watching closely so they don’t burn. How much you use and how long you toast them is up to you and worthy of experimentation. When they look and smell appetizing, add them to the peanut butter, drizzle on a little honey, and stir together. Taste. Add more honey if your sweet tooth is begging for it. Spread on bread and concentrate on the nice little crunch you’ve created. Yummy!

Carrot Jicama Salad

• carrot, grated
• jicama, peeled and sliced into tiny sticks and shreds
• fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated
• lemon juice
• canola oil
• honey
• pinch of nutmeg, powdered or freshly grated if possible
• dash of sea salt

Basically, focus on your carrots and jicama, add as much fresh ginger as you can handle, toss, then simply dress to taste with lemon juice, oil, honey, nutmeg, and salt. Toss again. Eat and cry for joy.