What do I Eat When it's 100 Degrees Farenheit?

It doesn't feel like I've eaten much this past week, certainly not enough to warrant writing about. The last actual meal I made was on Tuesday: beef stew alongside a new loaf of bread - and a whole quart of it is still tucked into the fridge. The thought of it re-heating on the stove makes me sweat a little. And it was good too - worth the heating of the kitchen to reduce sinewy stew meat (nearly two years old, from the deep freeze) to soft, silky beefiness. Finally I made good use of the pontack sauce, judiciously adding a few tablespoons after the beef browned and the heat evaporated the accumulated juices. I was happy to note that beef and elderberries get along extremely well together, and secretly, I patted myself on the back at the deliciousness that occurred with next to no help from me.

Yesterday was the 4th of July, historically one of my favorite holidays in part because there are no expectations for it other than to eat (and make cool desserts). Just 8 days at the start of July separate the birthdays of my Husband and Kiddo, and in-between these cake-events, I made a pan of lime bars. Part of my melancholy today has to be due to the sugar consumption I have made every excuse for indulging in lately. I returned to my old ways (gone since last year!) completely today when instead of greeting the morning gently with a glass of water and then a relatively nutritious fruit smoothie, I welcomed it voraciously with a fat slice of chocolate layer cake eaten like a madman over the sink. I only wish I were exaggerating.

Sugar is a demon for me, the more I eat it the more I feel like a total addict - licking the bowls of frosting clean with a spatula and depositing it directly into my mouth. To my defense, I made the frosting from powdered sugar I had made in my Vitamix. I'd challenge anyone to stop eating chocolate frosting that has a slight crunch to it; it's like frosting made with malted milk powder without the too sweet, malty aftertaste. It makes your teeth hurt, but not so much that you can stop yourself from shoveling it in. It's frosting that makes you know you have a problem.

Yesterday I made waffles with white flour, blueberries and ample amount of maple syrup adorning them. They weren't even sourdough, just plain, quick, all-American waffles. I guess I really am making every excuse to eat sweets these first days of July, and the least of them is that it is just too dang hot to eat much more than mouthfuls of sugar. After breakfast, I didn't eat again until we grilled out late in the afternoon.

I have also made a few batches of ice cream this week, using Jeni's Splendid method I first read about last year when she was profiled in Saveur. Recently I found her aptly splendid ice creams book at the library, and I really have never had finer vanilla ice cream. July's heat has me oogling the salted caramel, the goat cheese with sour roasted cherries, the olive oil with salted pumpkin seed... Oh, how easy it is for me to give in to sugar addiction! So many I'd love to try, and so few days left in my sugar binge. I just keep telling myself that it's only a few days until the next birthday, and then I will have no more excuse to make and eat desserts. I will go back to my austere dining habits and behave myself. But I will keep Jeni's website in my browser so I can visually indulge.

what??

But there were actually meals of a non-sugar nature. They consisted of a few bites of my potato salad, augmented with red pepper and plenty of hard cooked egg. (When it's hot, not much tastes better than a little bowl of potato salad for supper. I do believe that's my Gram talking right there.) There were several meals of thick slices of bread, spread with curried mushroom "pate". I got that recipe idea from the back of one of my co-op newsletters, and I don't think there is much I could do to ruin it no matter the substitutions I make. It isn't really very pretty, but my, it sure is tasty. Especially when it's cold from the fridge after a day or two of lingering. (Click the photo above for the recipe.)

I ate taco(s) today courtesy of my best friend, but ate too many of the accompanying salsas with chips and could only manage to eat one of the two after driving around in my a/c-less car for the morning. It was a lunch I will remember always, because we are both budget minded right now, and this 10$ spent may have well as been 75$ to me especially. But I have the most gracious friends who look out for me and pick me up when I need it the most. I could seriously cry thinking about this taco, but instead I blinked it back and remembered this peanut-arbol chile salsa I've made a couple of times. Also from Saveur a while back, that salsa will be made as repayment, a garnish for my own tacos that I'll invite my friends to eat. And it makes my own tacos every bit as good as eating out tacos, but sometimes it's the eating out that you need for inspiration and encouragement.

So maybe the heat is getting to me. I am so thankful for the air conditioning in my house, that its 1970's shell is still pounding away and hasn't decided to give up the ghost. For all of my Mexican roots, I must be northern in my blood much deeper since I wilt fast in heat and grow grumpy, unhungry, and solemn. I have to work hard right now to look for the happy things, though they are most definitely there. I hear all over town that the heat should break tomorrow by 10 p.m., and then I will bake cupcakes with pirate flags, altering my favorite Dorie Greenspan chocolate cake with billowy, marshmallowy frosting to please some 6-year-olds as much as to please myself, a day or two left in my sugary early July. And then, after I recover from all the sugar, I'll venture back outside and enjoy some more hospitably warm days, hopefully back in the double digits.

How Food in Jars Changed my Life.

Maybe some of the chatter about the new Food in Jars cookbook has died down, but I will gladly start it back up again. You might notice the lilacs on the table in the photo below, a visual clue to how long I've been mentally adding up my thoughts on Marisa McClellan's new canning tome. I'm really not even sure how to start, since Marisa was that little whisper in my ear that transformed me from the girl whose family canned, to the girl who confidently cans herself.

My Mother and Grandmother will forever echo in my mind as steadfast preservers, their shelves steadily growing each Summer and then beginning to dwindle by Spring of the following year. Canning was a way of life for our family, our Northern Wisconsin gardens always struggling to produce nearly all we needed in the short growing season. The glass jars deeply lined the shelves my Dad built my Mom in our basement, simple but well constructed out of pine. I never realized what a luxury it was to be asked to go downstairs and pick out a jar of vegetables for dinner - my choice. I now know that those short journeys to the basement were life changing and a blessing of wholesome choice.

My Gram's house was a scant half mile from ours, her little red log cabin had enormous rocks as a foundation which kept her basement cool, dark and scary. I would be afraid to venture down the rock stairs (or at least they seemed like rocks; that basement seemed like a castle dungeon to me) to the tiny room just at the bottom. When the door was opened and the light flipped on, a magical and colorful land woke up: floor to ceiling shelves holding all kinds of things in jars. It was the pantry that all pantries want to be when they grow up, and the one I will judge all pantries to.

At the feet of those women, I unknowingly was instilled in good food and preservation. As most of us often do growing up, I didn't hold dear those things I was raised to love. I'd dabbled in a few canning projects - those adventures were always peppered heavily with phone calls to my Mom. She talked me through many first time experiences, consulting her aged Ball preserving book for ratios or telling me how they always did things - little tips to make things easier on the next try. My canning life never stuck for good, I seemed to rest on the laurels of my family and treated preservation as something I would do if I had a bigger garden or a bigger family.

dilly beans from last year.

I never really owned the feeling of being a full-fledged preservationist until after I began this blog, and after I happened upon the Food in Jars recipe for Dilly Beans which I printed off and also shared with my Mom. That first Summer my true roots began to show as I worked my way through Marisa's jams and jellies. All of a sudden, I treated my local farmer's markets as an extension of my own backyard garden. Marisa taught me that I didn't have to grow it myself to preserve it, and that I could can just a few jars of something unusual and not can dozens of jars of pantry staples. Food in Jars became a regular stop on my Internet rounds, and Marisa became a real person that answered the questions I occasionally emailed her, a prophet of the DIY food scene that was nearly an in-the-flesh friend to me. Her blog became the source I compared against for canning inspiration and knowledge.

I couldn't have been more excited when I first heard about her book, and my excitement remained until May when the book was released. When my copy arrived in the mail, it came on a day when my son was still in school and I was pretty much caught up on my housework. In my own celebratory way, I marched down to my basement and plucked a jar of dilly beans off the shelf and opened them to eat with my lunch. I ate them thinking of Marisa and how happy I was for her. Then, I took my new book outside and read half of it from the beginning in the cool Spring sunshine.

I've done a bit of jam-making at the beginning of this year, but my preservation season is off to a slow start. This book is marked up with lots of post-it page markers - reminding me that I need to find apricots for the Apricot Jam and to pick up cantaloupe later this Summer for the Cantaloupe Jam with Vanilla (which Deena at Mostly Foodstuffs has already declared lives up to the claims of tasting exactly like a Creamsicle). It will be a good resource for this Summer, and beyond - giving recipes for year-round pantry staples like can-able Grainy White Wine Mustard and a number of non-canning, frequently stored in jars items like granolas.

Ginger-Walnut Granola, sweetened with Steen's cane syrup I happened to have stashed in the freezer...

(Gluten-Free) Crunchy Buckwheat Granola

The granolas were actually some the things I was most looking forward to reading about and sampling. I had made this recipe Marisa wrote years ago on SlashFood, a number of times - and a version appears in the cookbook. Of all the things I usually never use a recipe for, I actually followed two of the granola recipes exactly to give them a test run. Both were delicious, especially the one made with buckwheat. Marisa calls for kasha, which are buckwheat groats that have been toasted. Kasha is available for purchase, but I had buckwheat on hand and sprouted/dehydrated some myself to use. This recipe alone (in my opinion) could be worth the cover price! It's much crunchier than traditional granola, and if you have gluten-free oats, it's GF as well. I tried not to overindulge in granola eating, but both jars didn't last long. And, I learned that to get naturally forming clumps in homemade granola a couple of egg whites can often help, as can letting the granola cool when gently heaped up into a mound in the center of the baking sheet.

With Spring asparagus in the supermarkets, I took advantage of the seasonality and decided to put up a small batch of Pickled Asparagus. I picked up two large bunches which only amounted to about 2 1/2 lbs. (The recipe called for 4 lbs.) I got two jars with spears, and then decided to re-blanch the tougher stems and pickle up a third jar containing them since I had extra brine. I actually haven't transferred them to the dark basement yet, because I've enjoyed looking at them so much. I haven't cracked them open to taste them yet either - but I'm certain they won't disappoint. One thing I've come to know about Marisa's recipes is that they are always spot-on.

I have a few canning books on my personal shelf now that have easily slipped into the classic category. Now right next to Linda Ziedrich and Pam Corbin sits cookbook author Marisa McClellan's first book, and that name printed on the front of a beautiful, hardcover book makes me as proud as if it were my own name. I can't really be sure why this is. It could be because the world of preservers is bonded by not only economy, thrift and seasonality, but also by unspoken vows of commonality. We are happiest when those we know give unending gifts to the canning world, the recipes in this book will do just that - and will continue to do it for many years to come.



DISCLOSURE: I received a copy of this book for review, but all of my thoughts and opinions are my own. I am extremely happy to have this book in my collection, and look forward to using it heavily!

Golden Slumbers: California Extra Virgin Olive Oil

I feel like we've reached the age where there doesn't seem to be anything new left under the sun. We've already put men on the moon and the Beatles have conquered. In the past 10 years alone the world has shrunk immeasurably due to the Internet; the vastness of what we can now find on a whim is staggering, yet I still feel the thrill of new discovery in my own food world. I have found real olive oil, and it is indeed like hearing the Beatles for the first time all over again.

I haven't eaten much olive oil for the past few years. I tried brand after brand of mediocre oil, organic and non-organic, imported and blended. I really had no idea what I was looking for - but my taste buds told me that I hadn't found it yet and I began to wonder if I would ever find that oil I had read about: silky, sexy, health improving oil that knocked my socks off and was worth every cent. Oil that I felt confident in using, without fear of rancid bitterness plaguing the back of my throat.

Meanwhile, I'd been upping my consumption of coconut oil, which I still use frequently. Two years ago, I finally ditched health-industry sponsored canola oil for good and replaced it with flavorless grapeseed oil (which, to be honest, I am still leery of so I use it sparingly). For most things baked or sauteed, I've opted for coconut oil or plain old butter. Unfortunately I'd all but given up on olive oil.

I recently decided I needed to find out more about olive oil, and that I needed to find an exceptional version that I was unafraid to serve to friends and family, one that was impressive and didn't put me (further into) the poor house to buy. I found California Olive Ranch oil, and the one bottle I've been sampling - living with really - for the past month and a half has really changed my life.

I knew the minute I got this bottle that it was something special. It came when my Mom was here visiting, and we opened and tried it with a fresh loaf of bread. My Husband poured more into his dipping bowl, a motion that caught my attention immediately. This wasn't old, ordinary oil, it was fresh and grassy, it tasted of olives and was a beautiful green color. It was oil to be proud of and I started to use it everyday and in nearly everything I made.

vegan walnut- hazelnut shiitake pizza...

Olive oil is the only "commercially significant" oil produced from a fruit. When thinking of olive oil as fruit based, it makes perfect sense that most of the lesser quality oils I've had in the past had rancid, unpleasantly bitter tastes. True extra virgin olive oils, made carefully without heating and with first rate olives, yield uncompromising flavors like complex wines. They are released to the public with nuances of the land they grew up in, the olive varietals they are pressed from, and their numerous healthy olive compounds in tact.

my favorite spice paste, used in Sourdough Msemmen (flatbreads).

About the same time I received my bottle of Everyday Extra Virgin Olive Oil, I began reading the book Extra Virginity by Tom Mueller. It chronicles the sordid history of the olive, how it was important to the ancients for commerce, health, and vitality - and how increasingly it has become a commodity that has been tampered with. True extra virgin olive oil is made with first rate fruits still on the tree, not those that have fallen to the ground and then collected, and it is milled within hours of picking. Essentially it is a fresh fruit juice, pressed at the proper moment of ripeness and hopefully then minimally processed and laid to rest in tinted bottles where it is protected from too much heat and light.

(I haven't quite finished this book yet, but it is fascinating, and I recommend reading it if you are curious about the world of olive oil. You can also catch an NPR interview with Tom Mueller here.)

As I read through the early pages of Mueller's book, I began to wonder if the California olive oil was as good as Mediterranean oil. While our climate in North American can only approximate the Mediterranean climate in parts of the west coast, certainly oil produced here is more "environmentally friendly", since it is only shipped across the country to reach me than around the world. I found that there are many quality olive oil producers in California, and many of them are certified by the California Olive Oil Council, a quality control panel that ensures the Extra Virginity of oils being sold under that name.

I really felt like I experienced a wide range of this olive oil's abilities. I ate it plain on bread, with vegetables, drizzled on the best steak I've ever personally made. I used it over higher heat with no smoking whatsoever, and griddled zucchini and peppers and onions in the heat of post-tortilla-making cast iron skillets. I drizzled it plain over grain and vegetable salads, and finally I made an olive oil cake.

I based my cake on Dorie Greenspan's French Yogurt Cake, and added some blossoming lemon thyme from my garden. The slightly herbal lemon thyme was a good match for the grassy underpinnings of the olive oil. I infused some sliced strawberries with more lemon thyme for a shortcake-esque dessert topping.

My loaf pans are standard 9 x 5 bread pans. I'd like to get some 8 1/2 x 4 1/2 tea loaf pans, because I think cakes baked in that size would be prettier when sliced. You can also bake this cake in a 9 inch round cake tin, slice it horizontally in half when fully cooled, fill with berries, and top with whipped cream.

(French) Olive Oil Yogurt Cake (adapted from Dorie Greenspan)

• 1 c. ap flour
• 1/2 ground almonds (or an additional 1/2 c. of flour)
• 2 t. baking powder
• pinch of salt
• 1 c. sugar (I will cut this to 1/2 c. or 3/4 c. next time, it was a little sweet)
• zest of one lemon, microplaned
• 1 t. or more of lemon thyme leaves
  
• 1/2 c. plain yogurt
• 3 eggs
• 1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil

Preheat oven to 350. Butter a loaf pan (or other baking tin), and place it on a rimmed baking sheet.

Mix the flour, almond meal, baking powder and salt together and set aside.

Put the sugar and lemon zest in a medium bowl and rub together with your fingers until the sugar is lemon yellow, slightly damp, and scented with lemon. Add the thyme leaves, and carefully mix them around with your fingers - not so much that they are beat up, but enough for them to release some of their thymey oils.

Then, add the yogurt and eggs and whisk until well combined. Add the dry ingredients while still whisking, until very well blended. Switch to a rubber spatula, and add the olive oil. Using folding motion, fold the oil into the batter. It will take a few minutes for the batter to come together. Scrape it into the prepared pan, smoothing the top.

Bake 50-55 minutes or until a tester comes out cleanly from the center and the cake begins to pull away from the sides of the pan. Cool 5 minutes in the pan set on a wire rack, then remove from the pan and let cool completely.

(To make infused strawberries, freeze a quart of whole (hulled) strawberries overnight then let them partially back to room temperature. When still partially frozen, slice and place in a bowl. Add sugar to taste (I used only about 1 T.), and a few sprigs of lemon thyme leaves. Refrigerate until defrosted completely, stirring every so often to encourage even distribution of flavor. Will keep several days under refrigeration, and remove the spent thyme sprigs before serving.)

This is a perfect, sophisticated version of strawberry shortcake. I served it for a friend's birthday, specifically because I knew it would pack up well. It was actually 2 days old when we first sliced it, and I think the flavors improved with time. I gave away the remainder of the cake to the birthday girl, and then mixed up these easy chocolate olive oil truffles. Even though I used the Everyday Extra Virgin Olive Oil instead of the single varietal Arbequina. I shouldn't have been shocked at the flavor of these, but I was. It is crucial to let the truffles come back to room temperature for 10 minutes before letting them slowly melt in your mouth...

I had always heard that heating olive oil was not good and that it destroyed the health benefits of the oil. Now, I'm reading that good olive oils can reach temperatures upwards of 400 degrees with no deterioration, and that extra virgin olive oils are actually a very stable oil for sauteing and frying. I had no instances with sauteing this past month that showed the slightest wisp of smoking... and I've been liberally using olive oil once again as a go-to oil on top of the stove. It's so refreshing to embrace olive oil confidently!

I've now reached the end of my bottle, and spent part of this morning calling the various Sendik's locations listed on the California Olive Ranch website as a local retailers. On my 5th store, I called all the way up to Mequon (which would have been quite a drive for me), the manager happened to be with his specialty foods rep. They actually ordered the Everyday Extra Virgin Olive Oil to come in to the Franklin store for me early next week! Thanks to Sendik's outstanding customer service I will be out to pick up a new bottle locally next week. If you are interested in picking up a bottle and in are in the Milwaukee area, I'd try calling their service desk before making the drive out to 51st and Rawson just to be sure. I think it is an oil they would be able to get consistently if there was enough demand.

I will also likely place an order through the California Olive Ranch website if I'm not able to source the varietals locally. They offer discounts for recurring shipments, and I'm thinking that I will order with a friend and split the shipping costs. I can't wait to taste the Arbequina varietal in particular, and later this year I'll hopefully get some of the seasonal Limited Reserve as well.

It's easy to be excited about re-tasting something for the first time. It's wonderful to know that there are some quality extra virgin olive oils being produced in the US, and it feels terrific to be able to count on a consistent, healthy alternative to the confusing and suspicious claims on supermarket shelve bottles. Hopefully, this isn't the last of the California-produced extra virgins that I am able to sample!

Disclaimer: I did receive a bottle of California Olive Ranch's Everyday Extra Virgin Olive Oil for review, but the opinions expressed here are entirely my own. I loved this oil and would recommend it to anyone looking for an affordable, quality extra virgin olive oil!

Beetific!

It's early beet season here in Wisconsin, and I ate this ridiculously good gratin made with both the beetroot and healthy green tops yesterday (and today) with particular delight. You can read more about it on the Becky-Home-Ecky blog I write on Milwaukee Magazine.

My enthusiasm for all things beety had me thinking about some beet heavy recipes from my past. Bright pink beet pasta, tender Indian spiced beet "chops", whole beet risotto... so much good stuff I've made - and new stuff that I've found to make soon - that I thought a short link list of beetific recipes would certainly in order!

Here are some past favorites:

Beet Pasta (with a shockingly simple Blue Cheese Sauce to eat it with)
Beet Chops
Beet and Beet Green Risotto
Beet Gnocchi
Vegan Beet Stacks with Cashew Ricotta Cheese
Chocolate Beet Cake

I definitely need to make this cake again...

Whenever I see something made with beets, I mentally warehouse it. Here are just a few recent perusals that I should get around to making this year:

Whole Beet and Lemon Galette (Three Clever Sisters)
Maple Horseradish Glazed Beets (LeFort Urban Homestead)
Ginger Spiked Pickled Beets (Food in Jars - the Cookbook)
Beet Ice Cream with Orange Zest and Poppyseeds (CosmoCookie)
Jamie Oliver's Smoked Beets (via Food52)

beet escabeche tacos: concocted with roasted beet, leftover rice, canned escabeche...

Regardless of actual recipes, I will remember a favorite technique my friend Elisa was doing a couple Summers ago: roasting beets, then marinating them in a canning jar with a little feta, balsamic vinegar, maple syrup, olive oil, salt and pepper. They were ready for salads (or just to pop in my mouth plain from the jar) for up to a week, if I could keep them around my fridge for that long. This Summer, I'm making this a fridge staple once again.

I hardly need inspiration for beets, but sometimes it's good to have a reminder of good, beety things. And sometimes, it's good to share beety ideas with people who actually love beets as much as I do. Do you have a good recipe for me to try? Leave me a link in the comments, and I'll add it to my Summer Beet List!

Rhubarb Redux, and Kuchenish is a Good Word.

I could eat my weight in rhubarb. This year, I have found several neighbors who grow it but don't eat it, and I will never understand why some detest its spunky flavor. One or two such haters live under my roof. When I read aloud yesterday that rhubarb can be good for cutting cancer risks and improving conditions after some types of cancer, my Husband (who has had cancer) said he'd rather have cancer than eat rhubarb. The prolific neighborhood rhubarb has an outlet in me for the perennial crop, and I probably went a little overboard for the holiday weekend - baking up gluten-free, rhubarby treats all for me.

gluten-free rhubarb crisp.

I think every pan of rhubarb dessert I've ever made has a corner mysteriously missing before the pan has been out of the oven 5 minutes. It's hereditary; I am not sure I could help it if I tried, though admittedly I haven't tried very hard. I usually wait until I have rhubarb-loving company to make rhubarb desserts, but I was tired of waiting - and when one of those neighbors gave me some fresh rhubarb, I decided to make myself some low-sugar, mostly wheat free experiments. They were both so good that I have to record them for the future.

When I bake for myself, I often use little scribbled sheets of notepaper, a general idea of the baked good I want to come up with or a crib note for future endeavors. In the case of the adapted crisp, I used a common big spoon from my silverware drawer, which I measured and found to be the exact same as a standard tablespoon measure. That discovery just made my personal baking that much easier.

This crisp was inspired by La Tartine Gourmande, which has been on my library shelf for the past few weeks. I have read some of Beatrice Peltre's blog of the same name, but never realized until I was looking through the desserts chapter of her book that the recipes were all gluten-free. I'm not sensitive or allergic to gluten (that I know of) , but do believe that we all can benefit from less wheat, so I figured I would grind up some alternative flours and give it a go. I loved it.

Rice flour (at least rice flour made at home) is always a little gritty, but I don't mind this, especially in a crisp topping where the crunchiness is appreciated. The day after, the rice does soften up a little bit, but I still really liked the combination of sweet rice, slightly bitter amaranth and almond. The topping to filling ratio of this crisp leaned heavily in the topping's favor. Exactly how a crisp should be if you ask me. I made all of my flours in the VitaMix, but it is increasingly easier to find alternative flours at co-ops, other natural food stores, and traditional grocery markets.

Gluten Free Rhubarb Crisp (adapted from La Tartine Gourmande)
1 8x8 pan, about 6-8 servings if you're lucky

Filling:

• 12 oz. rhubarb, chopped into small pieces
• 1 apple, unpeeled, chopped into small pieces
• 1 T. honey
• 1 T. brown sugar
• 1/4 t. cinnamon, more to taste
• squeeze of lemon juice

Topping:

• 40 g. (1/4 c.) almond meal
• 50 g. (1/3 c.) rice flour
• 40 g. (1/3 c.) amaranth flour
• 50 g. (1/4 c.) brown sugar
• pinch of salt (omit if using salted butter)
  
• pinch of cinnamon
• pinch of ginger
• 6 T. cold butter (3 oz. or about 85 g.), cubed
• 35 g. (1/3 c.) rolled oats
• large handful of chopped almonds, about a heaping 1/3 of a cup
  

Preheat oven to 350.

Butter an 8x8 baking dish, preferably glass, and set aside. Mix filling ingredients in a bowl, and stir well. Spread into the baking dish in an even layer. Save the dirty bowl to mix the topping.

To make the topping in a food processor, combine the flours, sugar, salt and spices and pulse to combine. Add butter, and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse pebbles. Pour into the bowl used to make the filling, and add the oats and chopped almonds and mix well by hand. Spread evenly over the top of the filling. (You can make the topping by hand by crumbling the butter into the flours with your fingertips or a fork. Aim for the same, pebbly consistency.)

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until well browned and bubbly around the edges.

kuchenish.

After the success and rapid decimation of the crisp (yes, I pretty much ate it for breakfast, snack and dessert for 2 days solid), I turned my thoughts to the Rhubarb Kuchen of my youth. Kuchen is probably my all-time favorite dessert if you don't count chocolate cake, and it wasn't until I ate the crisp that I thought about altering it.

This is one recipe I've never thought about altering before. Tigress altered it last year, and did a good job of it, but it was still heavy on the refined sugar and leaden with kuchen-trademarked amounts of butter. I don't have anything against butter, but I was craving a more virtuous, breadfast-y version of kuchen, one that I didn't need to feel bad about eating all myself. I found my answer in dates.

I really loved adding chia seed to the topping.

I simmered whole, dried dates in water and let them cool to make a near sugar-free version of rhubarb kuchen. Really, it's only kuchenish, because there is no bottom layer, but if you eat it with yogurt or ice cream, you'll hardly miss it. I have now made 3 rhubarb desserts in the past 4 days, but to my defense, there is still a nearly full pan of the last kuchenish left.

For the first attempt, I used whole wheat flour along with the oats but I liked it just as well using amaranth flour. For the second test, I also increased the volume and used frozen rhubarb from last year since I have to make room for the new crop. The fresh rhubarb is preferable, but the frozen still makes a respectable result. If using frozen rhubarb, I would recommend using an additional egg to add to the creaminess of the filling.

Rhubarb Kuchenish (adapted from our family recipe of Rhubarb Kuchen)
bake in a 8x8 pan for thicker, longer baking dessert or 9x13 for thinner, shorter baking one

Filling:

• 12 oz. (about 1 c.) dried dates
• 2/3 c. water
• 6 c. rhubarb, measured after chopping to medium sized dice
  
• 2-3 eggs
• pinch of cinnamon, optional

Topping:

• 1/2 c. rolled oats
• 1/2 c. whole wheat (or amaranth) flour
• 1/4 c. brown sugar
• 2 oz. (4 T.) butter
• pinch of salt (omit if using salted butter)
• 2 T. chia seeds
• pinch of cinnamon, optional

To make the filling, simmer the water and dates in a covered pan for 10 minutes or so until soft. Cool to room temperature, then puree using a food processor, food mill, or immersion blender (that's what I used). Mix with the rest of the filling ingredients, and spread into a buttered baking dish.

Preheat oven to 350.

Make the topping by crumbling the butter into the flour by hand or with a food processor. Then add oats and the rest of the ingredients and toss to combine well. Spread over the filling in an even layer, and bake until golden brown and bubbly around the edges, 40-60 minutes depending on the size and depth of your baking dish.

Stored in the refrigerator, both the kuchenish and the crisp will keep several days - if not a week - but I know that is wishful thinking for me. I am reminded why I have been dutifully staying clear of baking desserts for myself. I crouch over a piping hot dish of fresh-from-the-oven rhubarb with fork in hand, burning my mouth to shovel those first few bites in, to examine if rhubarb made with dramatically less sugar is just as beguiling as the real thing. It is, I think. I feel a little better knowing that if I eat a whole pan of rhubarb dessert, it has just a trace of refined sugar in it. If you make one, let me know what you think, will you?