Author: Suzannah Kolbeck

Deconstructed Nutella Biscotti

 

Hello, lover.

As is my regular custom, I am examining the contents of my brain and the manner of my creative practice.

Perhaps it’s seasonal or cyclical; whichever the case may be, I seem to routinely look around for something – anything – to explain why a creative brain works the way it works. I am reading Creativity: How the Brain Works by Jonah Lehrer right now, mixing it up between trashy novels and books on NaNoWriMo (No Plot? No Problem! is a mainstay these days).

Turns out, I am writing a novel in November.

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo mentioned above) challenges people with no prior experience and no good sense to crank out 50,000 words of fiction in 30 short days (1,667 words a day for those keeping track). You may not know this about me, but my fiction writing is crap. However, I see this as a writing exercise, a way to stretch my creative writing muscles and perhaps come up with something different from what I have been doing –  a new approach, genre, or entree into something expansive and good.

To kick off this process, I am deconstructing my creative practice and the manner in which I express myself through this blog and in other ways (e.g., cooking, photography, the occasional painting). I am intensely curious about why people do what they do, most specifically in this case creative people. In Imagine, there is a lot of research about how one of the mechanisms of our brain, the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPC), is responsible for impulse control (as well as cognitive function and flexibility). These mechanisms are not quite formed in children and teenagers, which is why we want to push their faces in so much of the time.

In adults, impulse control is perhaps too well-established. We have forgotten how to “dance as if no one is watching.” While everyday people have no real issues with this, for creatives types, this is highly problematic. It is impossible to let go and write paint draw dance sing play if you continually run up against the wall of your own self every time you pick up the instrument of your art.

The good news is that when we take ourselves out of everyday life, not only does our impulse control loosen a wee bit (think the excessive amount of drinking and cavorting that occurs on your average vacation versus everyday life), but we also become more innovative and creative. But you don’t need to fly across the globe to responsibly (and affordably) shut off your impulse control. Novel experiences (get it? NOVEL experiences?) can inspire your brain to lighten up a bit. This could be as simple as walking down a different street or looking at a piece of art. Additionally, boring and mundane tasks allow us to relax a bit in the prefrontal cortex. It is true that some of the best ideas occur in the shower – your brain is not so busy monitoring and dissecting every little piece of sensory input and can relax into new thoughts and ideas.

Side note: The majority of this blog was dictated into my phone on the way down to Virginia from Baltimore to take my mom out to lunch for her 75th birthday. Turns out, long road trips are also a good tool to relax the brain’s firm grip on reality. Just ask Jack Kerouac.

The goal of NaNoWriMo is, of course, a novel at the end, but that’s it. Quantity over quality in this case. Imagine also points out that in terms of quality, the most creative people are also the most prolific, producing vast quantities of insufferable crap for each polished gem. So that is encouraging for two reasons:

  1. It does not have to be good, which releases me from any kind of judgment as far as ability goes, which is nice because I have that creativity-stifling characteristic in spades.
  2. Also, Imagine notes that when you think too much about what you are doing the ideas stop flowing and creativity suffers. This is also positive because in addition to the 50,000 words of the crap novel I am about to write, I also have to write my standard 35,000-50,000 words of non-crap that I actually get paid for. So the goal of 1,667 words every day just has to come, loose and easy.

One of the suggestions the NaNoWriMo people make (presumably for people with full-time jobs and multiple young children running around) is to stock up on snacks and treats with which to fortify yourself. This is not, they say, the month to get fancy or complicated with your nourishment. So in honor of the month, and the deconstruction, again, of my creative practice, I present these amazing morsels that just get better as they sit.

It’s fashionable to badmouth Nutella, I think. It reminds me about how people talk shit about Obamacare but when each part of it is broken down they love it. So if I call these toasted hazelnut and chocolate biscotti, I bet haters would convert because they are far more delicious than they perhaps have any right to be. They taste like a big spoonful of Nutella, minus the rainforest-killing palm oil and questionable texture.

See you in December!

Deconstructed Nutella Biscotti

(makes between 12 and 17)

Ingredients

1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts, coarsely chopped

1 1/2 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour

1 cup almond flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup olive oil

2 eggs

1/2 cup white sugar

1/4 cup lightly packed brown sugar

1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips, chopped (get fancier if you like; this is what I had in the house)

Method

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Toast whole hazelnuts in a dry skillet over medium heat until they begin to smell nutty (and maybe brown slightly). Remove from heat and let cool. Rub as much of the papery skin off as you can, then coarsely chop and set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine flours, salt, and baking powder and set aside.

In a large bowl, combine sugars, olive oil, and eggs and mix thoroughly. Use a spatula to add flour, completely incorporating both mixtures.

Add hazelnuts and chopped chocolate and mix completely.

Divide dough into two and place on parchment paper. Shape into six-inch logs that are about three inches wide.

Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes until firm and golden brown.

Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 200 degrees.

Using a serrated knife, slice each log into one-inch slices. Place sliced side down on the parchment paper and bake again until fully crisped, turning over once, for a total of about 30 minutes – maybe more. Some days I slice the biscotti too thick and it takes longer, or I don’t cook them enough the first time and it takes longer. You are looking for a dry texture. They will continue to dry out as they cool. You can even bake for 30 minutes and then turn the oven off, leaving the biscotti in there to continue to dry out.

Let cool thoroughly. Store in airtight container, or give away. You can’t really go wrong.

We Are(n’t) Family: African* Peanut Stew

Formation.

My brother and I have not spoken more than a handful of times since November 8, 2016.

While the final catalyst was his part in the current president’s election, I realized a long time ago that there was a disconnect between us, formed since we could walk. We spent our childhood together, me mostly afraid of him as the object of his ire, scorn, amusement, and anger. Both of our parents worked, and we spent a lot of time alone together. When my brother needed a punching bag I was handy; he routinely delivered punches, smacks, and pinches, along with various projectiles aimed at my head. He broke two windows in our house, one with a walnut and one with a deflated volleyball, as a result of those errant projectiles that veered from me at the last minute and met instead the fragile single panes of our house in the woods.

In terms of missiles, I remember most the Osage oranges, the softball-sized round seed pods that looked like I imagined brains looked. They were all over the base of the hill where our bus turned around. Florida Ropp, our bus driver for my entire elementary career, would pull up to the bottom of the steep hill and let us off before backing into a wide driveway and turning around. I sat in the front so I could fly down the stairs and immediately start running up the hill.

My brother emerged slowly, casually, a few seconds after me, to begin leisurely scanning the ground for the best orange. He would heft several in his hands before finding the perfect missile. My short legs never carried me far enough, fast enough, and the first one nearly always hit me square in the back between my shoulder blades. He had good aim and didn’t often miss.

We don’t agree on politics. We don’t have the same friends, taste in music, or ideas of what is important. Although I think he is a great dad and has a strong work ethic, I am not sure he believes either of those things to be true about me. When I started my own school, I think he envisioned me in a prairie skirt huddled around a kitchen table with a few raggedy unfortunates, not the fully accredited, non-profit private school I actually built.

When my husband died, though, he showed up. He cleaned out the demolished car and returned, silent and somber. He handled Dane’s bill collectors so I did not have to. His whole family piled into their car and drove down to Georgia from Northern Virginia to sit with us, and on that first fatherless Father’s Day in 2013 we spent it at Camden Yards in Baltimore with them.

It is hard for me to rectify what he did in that one time that was so important and vital with the rest of our lives. Even as we don’t speak, I would do the same for his family.

Perhaps we can just come to some peace with each other, where it’s ok that we are related and all, but there is really no obligation. We are guests in each others’ house; our children are strangers to each other. We cannot choose our family, but we can choose who we continue to invite into our lives. It’s hard when the chasm between us is vast and filled with fundamental differences in the way we believe the world should work.

Soup is an odd transition but perhaps just as polarizing. I have never lived with anyone who has liked soup. I do not understand how a person could not like soup. Various reasons have been that it’s sort of a half-meal and not particularly satisfying, or that it’s too, well, soup-y. For this reason, even though I am incredibly good at it (if I do say so myself), I don’t often make soup of any kind.

This recipe was an accident of sorts. Back when I was a public school teacher working with unruly adolescents, I was planning to teach a history unit on Africa and came home one evening – late and hungry – from a team planning meeting. My team decided that I was to design a dish that was quick and easy to share with my class when we started the unit; on that cold and rainy evening, I threw together some traditional flavors from all over Africa and hoped for the best.

After tasting the first batch, I ended up keeping the first to myself and making another for the class. Even the anti-soup faction in the house begrudgingly admitted it was delicious.

These days I make it all for myself and eat the whole batch over several days. It is silky and simple and complicated all at once, and warming all the way down to the bones. I have made my own ras-el-hanout spice blend instead of using the simple ginger/cayenne mixture I first used in this stew (back in 1999). There are various recipes online that include between six and 30 spices in their ras-el-hanout mixes; I chose to go simple for the sake of ease and convenience. The result is a deep, complex, satisfying, and somehow familiar stew that brings everyone back to the table.

African* Peanut Stew

Ingredients

4 tablespoons olive oil
3 cups sweet potatoes or yams, chopped into ½” cubes
1 large onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 cups vegetable stock (or chicken if not cooking for vegetarians)
2 15-ounce cans of diced tomatoes (or two pints if you preserve your own)
1 large apple, peeled, seeded, and chopped
1 heaping tablespoon ras-el-hanout (recipe below)
Optional but highly recommended: 2 T grated fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (more or less to taste)Salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup crunchy peanut butter (unsweetened is best)
1 green pepper, seeded and chopped

Salt and pepper of varying amounts

Ras el Hanout Spice Blend

1 tablespoon coriander seeds
1 1/2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1 teaspoon crushed chili flakes
2 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons paprika
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground turmeric

Method

If you are making your own ras-el-hanout, make that first. Add coriander and cumin seeds to a small frying pan over medium heat. Toast until spices begin to open up (they will smell more…toasty…), swirling frequently to avoid burning. If they burn, start over.

Place toasted seeds in a coffee grinder and allow to cool. Add red pepper flakes and grind until fine and incorporated. You can also use a mortar and pestle if you don’t have a spice grinder.

Combine all spices and mix thoroughly. This makes a little over 1/4 cup of ras-el-hanout, which will stay fresh for about a month in a dark, dry place. Realistically, it will be okay longer but just lose flavor the longer you have it.

Make the soup: In a large, heavy-bottomed stewpot (enameled cast iron is great for this), heat olive oil over medium heat. Add onion and sauté for two or three minutes, adding about a teaspoon of salt and some cracked black pepper. Add sweet potatoes and sauté until just cooked, soft on the outside with a slightly firm center (al dente).

Add chopped garlic, stock, tomatoes, apple, ras-el-hanout, fresh ginger (if using), and cayenne pepper. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to a low boil, and then lower the heat and simmer for 45 minutes.

Stir in shredded coconut, peanut butter, and green pepper and simmer for another ten minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with more shredded coconut and chopped unsalted peanuts.

*Yes, this is a blanket and general name for a stew that takes flavors from all over, most especially Morocco but also in the southern regions of Africa (and western as well). I do not pretend to be any kind of expert in these flavor profiles; I am simply experimenting and combining things that taste delicious, no matter how incongruous. I mean no disrespect.

Fall Feasting: Crab Gnocchi With Arugula

Comfort.

It’s fall here now.

Two weeks ago week it was raining, turning the new-fallen leaves into slick mush on the sidewalks and making everyone who had been bitching about the heat grumpy about the rain. Last week the mercury topped 90, so the rain went away and people complained again about the heat.

Just today, the leaves have begun to unveil a reddish tint, and the weeks ahead look more like the calendar says it should.

Fall means sweaters and boots and jeans and dry weather and in Maryland, most of all, the best crab of the season. Crabs in September and October are fat and packed full. While many rush to crabs as soon as the temperature rises in May, I wait and am rewarded with the fattest, sweetest, and cheapest crabs of the season.

Stretch that crab with some pasta, but not any pasta: gnocchi.

I do not know what it is about gnocchi. It’s like pasta and potatoes had a light and fluffy baby that was fat-cheeked and so adorable it barely needed anything else to make it lovable.

But true confession time: Until this recipe, I had only tried gnocchi once.

It was at a restaurant in Little Italy in Baltimore, a place that shall remain nameless but based on reputation alone should have had someone’s nonna in the back making delicate little puffs of potato.

They certainly charged cash money like they flew Nonna over first class.

Turns out, their gnocchi was less than stellar. They were lukewarm and gummy, served in a quickly-cooling butter sauce with fairly tasteless Parmesan that may have seen the inside of a green can. It was not a good showing, and for years I ignored the presence of this dish in favor of anything else.

Turns out gnocchi is a great pasta dish for those avoiding gluten, and with some practice (see Recipe Notes), it is, indeed, that adorable baby it is supposed to be. Paired here with crab and a bit of arugula that has been gussied up with a light mustard dressing. It slightly resembles a coddie, that unique-to-Baltimore staple of cod and mashed potatoes, deep fried and served with yellow mustard. Delicious summer-into-fall meal when crabs are at their fattest and fall greens are starting to come in. Or fall-into-winter meal when you need something hearty to cheer you up against the waning light. Or really, any time you feel like something warm and comforting and slightly luxurious.

Crab Gnocchi With Arugula

(generously serves four)

Ingredients 

3 large baking potatoes (big’uns. Don’t skimp.)

2 large egg yolks, beaten

Salt

½ cup gluten-free all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting (regular AP works here, too, but see Recipe Notes)

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

3 tablespoons butter

1/2 teaspoon fresh marjoram, roughly chopped

1 teaspoon fresh thyme, roughly chopped

1/2 pound crabmeat (jumbo lump or lump if you have cash money like that, or backfin if times are tight but not that tight)

Freshly ground black pepper

Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, grated

Greens dressing

2 tablespoons sherry vinegar

1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

2 teaspoons shallots, minced

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup best-quality olive oil

1 pound arugula, washed

Method

Preheat oven to 400°. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and dust with flour.

Pierce the potatoes all over with a fork. Bake potatoes for about one hour, until tender.

Cut potatoes in half. Scoop the flesh into a potato ricer and rice them directly onto a clean countertop that has been lightly dusted with flour. Drizzle beaten eggs and one teaspoon of salt over the potatoes. Using two bench scrapers, one in each hand, work the egg yolk and salt through the potatoes with a light sweeping motion. Mix flour and nutmeg and over dough and use bench scrapers until dough begins to come together. Use your hands to knead the dough gently until smooth but slightly sticky.

Cut the dough into four pieces, rolling each into a ¾” thick rope. Cut the ropes into ¾” pieces. Leave them as they are, or, more traditionally, roll each piece across the tines of a fork to make ridges. Place gnocchi on the baking sheet.

When you are ready to eat, bring a large pot of salted water to a simmer. Working with a dozen or so at a time, drop the gnocchi into the water and cook until they float to the surface. Continue to cook for one to two minutes more.

In another large sauté pan, melt the butter. Use a slotted spoon or spider to remove gnocchi from simmering water and add it to the butter. Brown slightly then add fresh crabmeat to the pan to warm. Add fresh marjoram and thyme and cook for one minute.

Season with salt and pepper and cook over medium heat for one minute. Sprinkle with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, if desired, or maybe a little Old Bay if you’re feeling hyperlocal.

Place all dressing ingredients in a small bowl and use a whisk to combine. Pour over greens and toss or serve on the side. Do not overdress greens.

Recipe Notes

  • Gnocchi takes longer than it seems like it should; it can be challenging to roll the ropes without them coming apart. The good news is that this recipe easily doubles and freezes well. You can spend a couple of hours making gnocchi and then pull them out of the freezer when you want. Uncooked gnocchi can be frozen for up to a month (first flat on a sheet pan and then in a resealable freezer bag). Cook in plenty of water, dropping them in just a few at a time. without defrosting. FULL DISCLOSURE: when I cooked them from frozen I did not follow the directions. I dumped them all in together and they became a big mushy mass. I drained them anyway, fried them in butter, and added fresh thyme and parmesan and we feasted royally.
  • As I developed this, I worked the gnocchi more than it seemed I should. If I had used regular gluten-filled all-purpose flour, these would have been gummy and awful. If you are not GF, I highly recommend borrowing some from a friend who is.
  • Using no crab is better than using crab from Indonesia. JM Clayton is my staple crab. Worth every single penny.
  • Also, a wealth of information on marjoram and its cousin, oregano, is available from the Herb Society of America. I found marjoram to be uncommon and was curious. I enjoyed the fact that marjoram is the herb of love, protection, and healing. Seems we could all use that these days. <3

 

DIY All-Purpose Gluten-Free Flour Mix

No fuss. Just gluten-free, all-purpose flour.

This blog is a public service post. I don’t normally do a straight up recipe post because there are way too many of those in the world, but this is different. This recipe for all-purpose, gluten-free flour does not really need gussying up with stories about life or meditations on how things oughta be. This post is brought to you by the utilitarian Getting Things Done Department with some help from Life Hacks University.

It has been two years since I first published my recipe for a cup-for-cup, gluten-free, all-purpose flour mix. This type of mix was a unicorn when I started. The existing gluten-free, all-purpose flour mixes I tried were okay but often used garbanzo bean flour, which imparts a distinct bean-y taste. No thank you.

Other mixes don’t use gums, which is fine for some folks. Some gluten-free people are sensitive to gums, and they cannot use them in any form. But xanthan gum is one of the things that gives gluten-free, all-purpose flour a bit of stretch that gluten would otherwise provide (which is why it works so well for baked goods).

The other issue with gluten-free, all-purpose flour blends in the store is that you must be independently wealthy to buy them. While some brands have come down in price significantly, you are still looking at $3+ a pound for most gluten-free, cup-for-cup, all-purpose flours.

So I solved all of these problems.

This recipe has a good ratio of protein to starch, which lends stability and lift, without using bean flours. The taste is neutral and thus works well for delicate pastry (like pie crust, which does better gluten-free anyway).

Although I can tell the difference when it is missing, the xanthan gum is negligible and can be eliminated from the mix, especially if you are using a recipe that calls for psyllium husk (a non-gum substitute that brings a bit of moisture to baked goods).

And finally, the price. Brown rice flour has been a bit challenging to find decently priced these days, but in general, the amounts below make a five-pound batch of flour for right around $10. I shop at the local Asian and Latino markets for flours (white rice and sweet rice in particular) and utilize the bulk section of my grocery store for the xanthan gum). Granted, that’s not the 50 cents a pound price of regular flour, but $2 a pound is pretty good, especially if you are one of the people who gluten will send to the hospital.

If you don’t feel like making this yourself, get in touch. I can make you a batch or two and send it your way or drop it off if you’re local. Otherwise, hit up Amazon for the ingredients you cannot find in your own town.

Gluten-Free, All-Purpose, Cup-For-Cup Flour

Side note: I have used slightly more or slightly less of each flour (like, 20 ounces of tapioca flour) with only a small noticeable difference, and probably only noticeable to me. Best proportions are below.

Ingredients

24-oz. brown rice flour

24-oz. white rice flour

16-oz sweet rice flour (sold under the Japanese name “mochiko” but also available as “glutinous rice flour”)

15-oz bag of tapioca flour (also at Asian grocery stores, but sometimes in regular stores)

2 tablespoons xanthan gum

Method

Seriously couldn’t be easier. Dump everything in a big bowl, stir together thoroughly. Stir again before using.

Recipe Notes

  • While this gluten-free, all-purpose flour mix makes amazing cookies, cakes, muffins, and pancakes and also works miracles as a breading substitute for fried things, it is not quite enough to make bread. You need more protein-filled flours. HOWEVER. That should not hold you back. This will carry you through the entire holiday baking season, and I am working on the whole bread issue. #StayTuned
  • I have used this flour mix in the same amounts called for in every recipe that calls for regular all-purpose flour without any issues. Seriously. This stuff is amazing.

Chocolate Mint Chocolate Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

I like sweet things, and I cannot lie.

Don’t get me wrong; I can cook the hell out of some savory food. Enchiladas, arepas, ramen: I know it doesn’t seem like I ever cook dinner, but I totally do. But I love sweet things. I love to make them and eat them and give them away.

It seems fitting for the last three days of summer to feature just one more ice cream recipe, and this one is a doozy. The Honey-Hopped Ice Cream of last month came about when I got fresh Cascade hops from Redwing Farm in West Virginia. This month’s ice cream is also straight outta the Pacific Northwest. The Kid visited relatives in Washington State last August and came back with contraband: chocolate mint clippings, wrapped in a soggy paper towel and sealed in a Ziploc for the trip. I tossed them in some soil and sort of forgot about them. Fast forward over a year to a lush window box filled with fresh chocolate mint, a little leggy but bursting with chocolatey flavor.

Add a big carton of heavy cream about to turn and some leftover chocolate, and good lord. This ice cream is deeply chocolate, not too sweet, and richly flavored and scented with mint.

Served with Frank’s Holy Bundt, which was quite unnecessary and yet somehow very necessary at the exact same time. A fitting goodbye to a busy summer.

Chocolate Mint Chocolate Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

Tons of variations here. You can use plain mint. You can vary the type of dairy. You can eliminate the cocoa powder (but reduce the sugar to 3/4 cup). If you cannot find chocolate mint, plain will do just fine.

Ingredients

3 cups heavy cream

1 cup whole milk

1 packed cup fresh chocolate mint leaves

1 1/4 cup sugar

1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

6 egg yolks

pinch salt

3/4 cup chopped chocolate (see Recipe Notes)

Method

Heat heavy cream and milk in a saucepan over medium heat until bubble form around the sides. Add fresh mint leaves and cover. Steep for at least 45 minutes.

While the mint is steeping, whisk together sugar, cocoa powder, egg yolks, and salt in a large bowl. It will form a paste (which is fine. Don’t panic.).

Strain mint leaves out of the cream/milk mixture and then back into the saucepan. Heat again until bubbles form. Remove from heat.

Here is the tricky part. Go slowly.

Pour a thin, trickling stream of cream/milk into the egg/sugar/cocoa mixture, whisking constantly as you do. It may be challenging to loosen up the egg/sugar/cocoa paste at first, but continue to go slowly. You don’t want to scramble your eggs.

Once all of the cream/milk is incorporate, place strainer over the saucepan and strain mixture through. This will catch any stray scrambled egg bits if you have them.

Turn heat to low, and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens (about ten minutes). Take this step slowly as well or your eggs will scramble.

Remove from heat and strain once more into a clean bowl. Cover the surface of the mixture with plastic wrap and chill thoroughly, at least four hours (but overnight is fine, too).

Once your mixture is chilled, process according to your ice cream maker’s directions. Add the chopped chocolate in for the last five minutes.

Freeze for a couple of hours, then share with people you love.

Recipe Notes

  • If you eliminate the cocoa, cut the sugar to 3/4 cup as noted above or your final product will be way too sweet.
  • For the chopped chocolate, I used a combination of 3/4 of an old bar of Ikea dark chocolate and a handful of Hershey’s Special Dark Kisses. It’s what was on hand, and I am all about that life.