Christchurch Quake: Food, Security, Love

Tonight my heart is with the city of Christchurch. My heart intertwined with the nation of New Zealand at the age of four, when my family of six transplanted our lives there, and though my connections are mostly sewn to the North Island, friends who moved to the South Island hosted my sister, mum, and me when we visited last year. Our longest extension of time on the South Island was with these friends in Christchurch, and my sister and I nudged each other and sighed together in knowing ways throughout our time there. We had work visas that would allow us an additional eight months in the country if we chose, and it was easy to imagine ourselves spending those months in this city. It was grey and drizzly like the northwest corner of America we know so well, and it has the historical spires that remind us of beloved England. Additionally, it is thoroughly Kiwi, and that's the best part.

As my thoughts and prayers turn toward Christchurch's communities and the effects of the devastating earthquake upon its nation, I have a somewhat relevant recipe to share. Ironically, I have been planning to share this recipe all weekend, though I wonder if the descriptor "relevant" would in fact more appropriately be "trivial". We all must eat, but an elaborate recipe at a time when some families are simply grateful to not have any empty seats around their tables? And what of those people who must face the gaping hole of a missing mother, father, brother, or baby?

Food alone cannot heal, and its solace is only temporary, but I am reminded of the connectedness it still brings. I love this quote by M.F.K. Fisher I read in Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef recently:

It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others. So it happens that when I write of hunger, I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and the hunger for it; and then the warmth and richness and fine reality of hunger satisfied; and it is all one.

Tonight I write of savory muffins, an unusual concept to many Americans but well handled and abundantly enjoyed by Kiwis and Aussies alike.



I have been quite swamped with sweet baked goods recently, so when my apples were going mealy and soft even a claufoutis or an apple galette did not sound quite right. I loved the apple and gruyere muffins I had made in December but remembered a different recipe I had been wanting to try and decided to adapt it.

These muffins ended up being a lot of fun to create. Working with what I already had in the kitchen, I tweaked the recipe with a French flair of aromatic brie and gentle lavender. The batter was truly the most gorgeous muffin batter I have ever worked with, and its flavors carried right through in a melding hearty way, as I hoped. These are dense muffins chock full of flavor and color that leave the senses satisfied and stomach nourished. I found their most pleasing pairing in a bowl of classic celery soup.





Frequently, when I mention celery soup, I am met with skeptical or outright disgusted responses. Who would turn the common celery stalk into the star of a soup recipe? Apparently someone was daring enough to do this, and my mom was wise enough to follow their lead, making this a favorite meal at the family dinner table. It naturally earned a place in our compilation of family recipes that each child now keeps in his or her adult kitchen. Creamy, rich, and warming, the celery is thickened by silky potatoes and enhanced by a dash of fresh nutmeg.

One of my Christchurch-dwelling friends asked for this soup recipe earlier in the week when I mentioned it on Facebook. I dedicate my blog post to these friends and all New Zealanders who may be considering the basic needs of food, security, and love from new perspectives now. Perspectives temporarily shocked. Perspectives that are forever shifted. They are not alone.





Roasted Apple and Brie Muffins
Adapted from 101Cookbooks (adapted from Martha Goes Green)

Striving for a heartier muffin, I knew I wanted to replace a reasonable amount of the flour with a whole grain type. I used whole wheat pastry flour and found the batter a bit dense and dry, which is where the additional tablespoons of milk came in. You may omit this addition by your own discretion, especially if using entirely all purpose flour.

Makes 12 muffins

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 cups apple, 1/2-inch cubes
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour + 1 cup all purpose flour
1 large handful salad greens
1 tablespoon dried lavender
3 tablespoons pumpkin seeds, toasted
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano
1/2 cup Brie cheese, roughly cubed
2 teaspoons whole-grain mustard
2 large eggs
3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons whole milk (see recipe)
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

Preheat oven to 400°F. Grease 12-hole muffin tin with butter. Set aside.

Spread chopped apples onto single layer of rimmed baking sheet or roasting pan. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss and stir, and bake 15 minutes or until tender and browning. Set aside to cool.

Transfer two-thirds of apples to large mixing bowl, adding salad greens, lavender, pumpkin seeds, Reggiano, two-thirds of brie, and mustard. Gently fold.

In a separate bowl, beat eggs and milk together and add to apple mix. Sift flour and baking powder onto mixture. Top with salt and generous dose of freshly ground black pepper and fold together until all ingredients are just incorporated.

Spoon mixture in prepared muffin pan, filling each hole three-quarters full. Top each muffin with remaining apple bits and brie cubes. Bake for 15-20 minutes or until tops are barely golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool for a couple minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack.

Delicious eaten while still warm. Perfectly revived a day later dunked into a hot soup like the one below.



"Our Favorite" Celery Soup
Used with permission of my mother, Rachael Jewel Bates

Serves 6

1 large bunch celery
1 medium potato, diced
4 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground anise
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme (or 1/2 teaspoon fresh)
5 cups water
2 teaspoons salt

Taking celery, cut off and discard its root end and then wash thoroughly. Chop celery coarsely (including celery leaves on stalks - now would be the time to reserve some leaves for garnish if you like). Set aside. Peel and dice potato.

In a heavy saucepan, heat butter. Saute chopped onion and garlic until onion is softened. Stir in nutmeg, anise, and thyme, and cook for one minute.

Add chopped celery, toss to coat with butter and saute for three minutes. Add water, salt, and diced potato and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer for 15-20 minutes or until celery and potato are soft.

Next, puree in blender or food processor. Serve immediately or gently reheat if necessary. Garnish each serving with celery leaf clusters.

And I love the times

I'm sitting in a crowded coffee shop in Lubbock, Texas, tuning out the loud conversations around me with a mix of voices on my iTunes. I'm escaping a little further.

It's spring break. That infamous week-long party that comes with college life, but I have this theory that my school scheduled it early this year just so we couldn't join forces with anyone beyond our fellow classmates. Not that I'm disappointed. I simply don't have any interest.

I've escaped from Abilene for a few days and that's exhilarating in itself. I'm sipping my fair share of my uncle's home-bottled wine and beer while playing soccer with his kids and talking with his wife about the endless family news that comes with having nine aunts and uncles. And now I get to be in a little coffee shop with the scent of espresso absorbed into the walls and half of a banana muffin on a plate before me. This is all indeed a luxury in a schedule that has booked my life with attending classes, working, studying for those classes, and interning online. I even got to go out for a run/walk this morning for an hour. Phew.

It's nice to have room to breathe.

Not that enjoyment is sucked out of life while in my regular routine. By no means. I love the art that I get to do for "homework," even if it does sometimes require energy I don't seem to have. I love bringing a new batch of photos into my photography teacher to hear his encouragement and receive his critiques. I love every single person I work with in my university's little Study Abroad Office. And I love the times I get with friends on the weekends and (very occasional) weekday.

Last Sunday afternoon happened to be one of those times. It was a beautifully sunny day and a friend was scheduled to stop by to cut my roommate's hair, so I decided to whip up something comforting, slightly sweet, and pretty enough for plenty of lingering-over.

I have been wanting to try the Nutmeg Doughnut Muffins in Molly of Orangette's recipe archive for some time now, but the timing never seemed right. For one, I was not raised with the concept of a "right time" for doughnuts, so that word in the recipe title kept throwing me. I loved the idea of the nutmeg and the look of powdered sugar dusted across the surface, but the word doughnut was always supposed to come with a cringe growing up. While I will surely act more graciously in the presence of those outside my immediate family circle, after my few rebellious experiences with them at childhood friends' homes, I, too, have concluded that doughnuts don't do much for me. Now and then I can appreciatively nibble on one, but they rarely spur a craving.

All that to say, last weekend I found myself scanning over this recipe and finding ways to trim it up a bit so it would leave me feeling less like the average doughnut does...greasy, heavy, and remorseful. Besides, I knew Molly's taste buds did not tend toward that direction either, so there had to be something to these muffins. I pressed on.

I used the last of my oat flour, which cut out a little of the all-purpose. I substituted coconut milk for the whole milk. And I cut back on the butter and sugar applied to the outside. What came out of the oven was delicious. It had a greater complexity to it than I imagine the original does, with ever-so-subtle scents of coconut and oats. Each muffin was light, fluffy, and cozy in all its nutmeg-y goodness. They didn't even need the powdered sugar coating, but I went ahead and put it on the tops of about half. It dressed them up a notch, and because I had cut two tablespoons of sugar out of the batter, the added sugar matched a mildly sweet crumb.

I better get over my "doughnut" word prejudice. Because I plan on sharing these with a lot more people.



Nutmeg Doughnut Muffins
Adapted from Orangette, who was inspired by Columbia City Bakery and adapted her own recipe from Kathleen Stewart of the Downtown Bakery & Creamery, Healdsburg, CA

Muffins:
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup oat flour
2 ½ teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
¾ cup plus 1 Tbs coconut milk (substitute water for the additional tablespoon if using full-fat coconut milk)
2 Tablespoons buttermilk (or 1 Tbs plain whole milk yogurt/1 Tbs water)
1 ½ sticks (6 oz) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¾ cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs

Topping:
3 Tablespoons unsalted buttter
1 cup powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Grease 1-2 muffin tins (expect to make 12 muffins) or fill with muffin liners.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, oat flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg. Whisk together thoroughly, and then set aside.

Combine coconut milk and buttermilk in a measuring cup or small bowl, and set aside.

Place butter in the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment or in a large mixing bowl with an available electric beater. Beat until the butter is soft and creamy. With the motor running pour the sugar in a steady stream (or in small, gradual portions with the electric beater). Continue beating, scraping down sides, until the mixture increases in volume and lightens to pale yellow. Look for it to become light, fluffy, and creamy, like frosting. Then add the eggs, one at a time, until everything is just combined.

With a large spatula or wooden spoon, mix a fourth of the flour mixture into the butter mixture. Add a fourth of the coconut milk mixture. Continue to add the dry and wet ingredients alternately until everything is just incorporated. Do not overmix.

Spoon the batter into the cups of the muffin tin. Bake until they are just turning golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 25-30 minutes.

When the muffins are cool enough to handle, prepare the topping by melting the butter in the microwave or on the stovetop and measuring the powdered sugar into a deep bowl. Using a pastry brush, lightly brush the top of one muffin with butter and turn it upside down into the bowl of powdered sugar. (You may brush the whole surface with butter and roll it in powdered sugar if you prefer.) Shake off excess sugar and serve.*

These kept well for me for another two days, though they need to be in an airtight container. Also, Molly mentions that the batter can be kept in the fridge, covered, for up to three days.

Tuesdays with Dorie: A Dose of Honesty

I sit before you as the same tired girl who was here last week, but I'll refrain from sharing the details of my all-night escapades because 1) "escapades" is a far too exciting word to use -- they're quite boring -- and 2) many of you lead equally crazy lives.

How does life get so crazy? Personally, I have to admit a lot has to do with this laptop resting on my legs. I can't live with it, and I can't live without it. Email and Skype keep me connected with friends too far away to hug, Picasa keeps my photographs stored and organized, and good ol' Microsoft Word keeps words flowing (or stumbling) out of my brain and into typed words that eventually make their way onto crisp white paper in the hands of the professors who, as my graduation date draws closer, seem to hold my future in their all-powerful hands. And, yet, this computer works against me by offering a million less important distractions from the things that I must accomplish before sinking into bed each night.

Tonight I'll be researching the works of illustrators such as Lane Smith, and committing the mood and sway of Glen & Mar's album to memory through iTunes, all from the comfort of a cleared spot at the end of my bed, which as gone unmade for a shameful eight days (not to mention that it is now sheet-less, because I washed them two days ago and haven't put them back on).



Why am I admitting all this to you dear people (who I'm sure have a squeaky clean image of me and are surely quite surprised to learn I'm not perfect)? Well, I tend to be quite honest when I'm tired.

And, along the lines of being honest, I have to counter that I can live without this laptop. People do, and I can learn to, again, if need be. I'm very grateful to the generous friend who gave it to me, but I don't ever want to get so attached to something as fleeting as a computer (which can be killed in a few seconds with water dumped across its screen and keys -- I would know), or convenient as a cell phone, or even as luxurious as $8 New Zealand honey (totally worth it, that once -- I hadn't tasted it since my childhood on our regular visits to the honey shop between Waiwera and Auckland).

But, as long as I have access to a kitchen and the internet, I will likely continue to take pictures and blog about my gastronomic experiences, so thank you so much for joining me tonight.



I have been retracing my steps all evening long, ever since I started scooping this muffin batter into its designated tin and wondering why it was so thick. I can't figure out what I did wrong. Dorie Greenspan presents a lovely sounding pumpkin muffin recipe in Baking: From My Home to Yours, and I have been looking forward to trying it for a couple weeks. But what I pulled out of the oven in no way outshines other pumpkin quick breads or muffins I have made. The most appealing way to describe its appearance was "rustic." The batter was too thick to fill out the muffin liner while baking and remained piled on top.

The only things I changed were that I made a one and a half recipe, switched out 1/3 of the all-purpose flour for whole-wheat, and used a very runny and sour yogurt instead of buttermilk. I do no see how these could have dramatically affected the consistency.

On the bright side, they're pumpkin flavored, so they're hard to hate (who are you crazy people saying you don't like pumpkin?) and loaded with cranberries (another minor alteration) and pecans and coated with crunchy sunflower seeds, but I could easily add these things to one of my preferred pumpkin muffin recipes.



These are my thoughts on Tuesdays With Dorie's recipe this week, but I'm looking forward to finding out how others' baking sessions went (as soon as I find the time). I could have just encountered something weird and only relevant to my kitchen; I'm willing to give Dorie the benefit of the doubt.

The recipe can be found here:
Pumpkin Muffins