Back from vacation and slowly moving into the cooking habit.
This was an accident that made Michael say, "What is this? This is delicious!"
I thought I'd better write it down.
Base:
leftover noodle broth--Michael had prepared himself some egg noddles, and buttered and salted the cooking water--totaled about 6-8 cups. There appeared to be about two tablespoons of butter in the water. It leaves a pleasant flavor and so I added the following:
2 large carrots, sliced
4 large potatoes, chunked, skin on
Bring to a boil, and then simmer until vegetables are almost done. Add
2 onions, peeled and chunked
Simmer until onions are soft. Add
1 cup fat free sour cream or sour cream substitute
1 tablespoon of Penzey's Chicago Steakhouse blend.
Blend in. Now, mix
1-2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 cup water
until lump free in a separate bowl, and stir in to simmering soup to thicken. Taste. You may need to add a little more of the Steakhouse blend, and a little more salt at this point--adjust according to your taste.
This produces a soup that has a touch of smokiness and a touch of pepper. Michael ate 3 bowls. I ended up adding about .5 tablespoon of the Steakhouse seasoning and about .5 t of salt after the cornstarch; the addition of the cornstarch does reduce the strength of the spices, and as I love spicy food, I added more of the blend and only a touch more salt, as I tend to not like things with much more than a hint of salt.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
It's been a long time
I have been much too busy to explore and discuss cookery these days. It's something of a problem, as a matter of fact, because it means that I have again devolved to eating what I can get cooked quickly and everything is dreadfully bean-brown-mush looking. This is what I have had time and forethought to do.
That should be over for a while. After this morning's horrifying lunch, I really need to consider my cooking again. Pay attention. Have time.
I can say I have learned a few things:
1. I am an indifferent food blogger.
2. I don't really like fava beans as much as I want to.
3. This place is really better as a repository of failure than any kind of world-shattering tool.
4. I'm tired of brown food but my budget is so tight that there is going to be a lot more of it. Yes. Even more.
So, let's talk briefly about popcorn.
Yeah, I know, that's a change. I can eat a whole 16 cups of it at a time. I suppose I could try for more, but I would... no, I won't lie. It's the limit of my favorite pan, that's why I stop at 16. Bad home made popcorn is better than any store-boughten, pre-popped stuff. WHole grain snack goodness that I love, just plain. No butter, minimal salt--you really can't eat that much popcorn AND put all the stuff on it. I'd rather eat more popcorn and do without butter.
Based on some internet research (using the magical and TOTALLY UNEXPECTED search phrase, "how to pop popcorn"), I learned two things:
1. The way I was taught to make popcorn is apparently the best way to do it at home and the horrifying hell of microwave popcorn left a whole generation bereft of this valuable knowledge.
2. You can put salts and spices into the oil before popping instead of after.
So, I tried point #2, as I already had #1 together. Note to self--maybe consider not heating the spices with the oil, put them in right before the popcorn. Note to self 2--this leaves the pan considerably messier--salty and singed spices oh my!
Anyway, as I had a mass of popcorn for dinner last night, I'd best not eat that tonight, There is a limit to the fiber my innards want to deal with at any given time.
So let's talk about almond milk based yogurt instead:
Almande has finally shown up on the shelves of my favorite Outpost--surprisingly, I could not find it at Whole Foods when I was down there a week or so ago--and so I bought some. I have a lovely bunch of yogurt starter sitting in my cupboard, but this product got to my house before I felt the need to experiment with making it myself, so of course, I bought some.
I have mixed feelings about it. It's a ghodsend in that it's a decent yogurt product that is soy free, and the fruit flavored yogurts are fine, better that So Delicious Coconut, my former yogurt-like treat. Unlike the coconut milk yogurts, it tastes like a standard fruit yogurt, not like coconut + blueberries.
Which, I might add, was always pretty much a "meh" combination for me.
I don't have any complaints about the textures, either, as by the time I found it in Milwaukee, a number of the issues identified by earlier customers had been corrected.
But the underlying combination of sour and almond flavor in the vanilla and the plain flavors--the large sizes I would usually buy--are ... ah... odd. Not yogurty enough.
Now, I am sure that seems silly, eh? Almond milk yogurt isn't yogurty enough? Listen, my children, ever since I found Greek Gods Honey flavored Yogurt, all plain or vanilla yogurts are no longer yogurty enough. Because that stuff is my idea of what yogurt should be. Holy man.
Of course, I can hardly ever have it, which is why it's teh sadeness that the Almande, while perfectly acceptable on it's own, isn't even close to as good. However, I'll adjust. Just as I can appreciate a veggie burger for what it is rather than despair over what it isn't (a hamburger!), I will enjoy this for what it is. After all, there were a few years in which it was milk-based, soy-based, or nothing. I usually had nothing for those years.
That should be over for a while. After this morning's horrifying lunch, I really need to consider my cooking again. Pay attention. Have time.
I can say I have learned a few things:
1. I am an indifferent food blogger.
2. I don't really like fava beans as much as I want to.
3. This place is really better as a repository of failure than any kind of world-shattering tool.
4. I'm tired of brown food but my budget is so tight that there is going to be a lot more of it. Yes. Even more.
So, let's talk briefly about popcorn.
Yeah, I know, that's a change. I can eat a whole 16 cups of it at a time. I suppose I could try for more, but I would... no, I won't lie. It's the limit of my favorite pan, that's why I stop at 16. Bad home made popcorn is better than any store-boughten, pre-popped stuff. WHole grain snack goodness that I love, just plain. No butter, minimal salt--you really can't eat that much popcorn AND put all the stuff on it. I'd rather eat more popcorn and do without butter.
Based on some internet research (using the magical and TOTALLY UNEXPECTED search phrase, "how to pop popcorn"), I learned two things:
1. The way I was taught to make popcorn is apparently the best way to do it at home and the horrifying hell of microwave popcorn left a whole generation bereft of this valuable knowledge.
2. You can put salts and spices into the oil before popping instead of after.
So, I tried point #2, as I already had #1 together. Note to self--maybe consider not heating the spices with the oil, put them in right before the popcorn. Note to self 2--this leaves the pan considerably messier--salty and singed spices oh my!
Anyway, as I had a mass of popcorn for dinner last night, I'd best not eat that tonight, There is a limit to the fiber my innards want to deal with at any given time.
So let's talk about almond milk based yogurt instead:
Almande has finally shown up on the shelves of my favorite Outpost--surprisingly, I could not find it at Whole Foods when I was down there a week or so ago--and so I bought some. I have a lovely bunch of yogurt starter sitting in my cupboard, but this product got to my house before I felt the need to experiment with making it myself, so of course, I bought some.
I have mixed feelings about it. It's a ghodsend in that it's a decent yogurt product that is soy free, and the fruit flavored yogurts are fine, better that So Delicious Coconut, my former yogurt-like treat. Unlike the coconut milk yogurts, it tastes like a standard fruit yogurt, not like coconut + blueberries.
Which, I might add, was always pretty much a "meh" combination for me.
I don't have any complaints about the textures, either, as by the time I found it in Milwaukee, a number of the issues identified by earlier customers had been corrected.
But the underlying combination of sour and almond flavor in the vanilla and the plain flavors--the large sizes I would usually buy--are ... ah... odd. Not yogurty enough.
Now, I am sure that seems silly, eh? Almond milk yogurt isn't yogurty enough? Listen, my children, ever since I found Greek Gods Honey flavored Yogurt, all plain or vanilla yogurts are no longer yogurty enough. Because that stuff is my idea of what yogurt should be. Holy man.
Of course, I can hardly ever have it, which is why it's teh sadeness that the Almande, while perfectly acceptable on it's own, isn't even close to as good. However, I'll adjust. Just as I can appreciate a veggie burger for what it is rather than despair over what it isn't (a hamburger!), I will enjoy this for what it is. After all, there were a few years in which it was milk-based, soy-based, or nothing. I usually had nothing for those years.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Notes--Cookery Roundup.
1: Beans for quick! a

So, I make a lot of beans. And here, in far too close detail, is one easy favorite (on injera no less). Black Eyed Peas + Water in Pot + Spices (and when it's going on injera I usually use one of the Ethiopian Berbere blends I got from Auntie Arwen) + Olive Oil + Sauteed Onion. Cook to a slightly mushy consistency.
2: Beans for Quick! b
No pictures yet, just some notes in case this works well. I love sausage. I bought several sausage spice blends from Penzey's, & first try, of course, was the ol' "homaid" seitan sausage, which, as usual, came out tasting amazingly not like sausage. So, two experiments underway: beans spiced appropriately & with a little vegetable. Blend 1: kidney beans, onion, jalapeno, breakfast sausage mix. Blend 2: Navy beans, potatoes, and either bratwurst or Italian, probably Italian. The Italian is a slightly sweeter blend, and so it it will likely be a better match. I experiment with it, choice depending upon whether I roast or boil the potatoes. Roasted taters might be nicer with a "sausage forte" rather than a "sausage douce" blend (a la' poudre forte versus poudre douce. I'm so medieval).
3: Duck eggs!

There we go. Hard boiled, fresh, and boiled and dyed duck eggs. At last, a source. Whether they are regularly there or not I can not say, but given that it's an oriental market, I expect there's a good chance that they're there regularly. They'll stay a treat, though. 79¢ for one egg rather means that I won't be buying them often. I had one fr breakfast with black beans and tortillas the next day, though, how could I not? However the best bit of cookery so far was this lacto-ovo vegetarian medieval nom nom:

Leek & Mushroom Pie. Nom. Nom. Nom. I have the research and stuff gathered for it, but I just haven't felt like writing it up. It's something I have actually made a lot. I just have never presented it as something that I would have other cooks prep up with some assurance that it's SCA appropriate.
I need to get to it soon, though. Then I won't have it on my to-do list.
4: Why Pictures are so often fail for me:

This was a delicious lunch one day in January. I took a picture so that I'd write it down and share, because, again, it was simple and yum. The roasted veggies were delightful and tend to be the same trick used over and over: veggies, olive oil, spice mix. I can't recall which mix I used here, but the nigella seed is pretty obvious, so it was one of only two blends in my spice box. I remember it was okay, but not as good on roasted veggies as other blends. What I really wanted to recall was the fact that I found that broccoli stalks roast well. Peel the woodiest bits off the stalk with a peeler, chunk 'em up the same way you might chunk a carrot, and go forth and roast.
The moment of fail? The quinoa. I can't recall how I treated it. And it was good. Darn. This happens to me all the time. I'm just not diligent about keeping my cookery notes. ::sigh::

So, I make a lot of beans. And here, in far too close detail, is one easy favorite (on injera no less). Black Eyed Peas + Water in Pot + Spices (and when it's going on injera I usually use one of the Ethiopian Berbere blends I got from Auntie Arwen) + Olive Oil + Sauteed Onion. Cook to a slightly mushy consistency.
2: Beans for Quick! b
No pictures yet, just some notes in case this works well. I love sausage. I bought several sausage spice blends from Penzey's, & first try, of course, was the ol' "homaid" seitan sausage, which, as usual, came out tasting amazingly not like sausage. So, two experiments underway: beans spiced appropriately & with a little vegetable. Blend 1: kidney beans, onion, jalapeno, breakfast sausage mix. Blend 2: Navy beans, potatoes, and either bratwurst or Italian, probably Italian. The Italian is a slightly sweeter blend, and so it it will likely be a better match. I experiment with it, choice depending upon whether I roast or boil the potatoes. Roasted taters might be nicer with a "sausage forte" rather than a "sausage douce" blend (a la' poudre forte versus poudre douce. I'm so medieval).
3: Duck eggs!

There we go. Hard boiled, fresh, and boiled and dyed duck eggs. At last, a source. Whether they are regularly there or not I can not say, but given that it's an oriental market, I expect there's a good chance that they're there regularly. They'll stay a treat, though. 79¢ for one egg rather means that I won't be buying them often. I had one fr breakfast with black beans and tortillas the next day, though, how could I not? However the best bit of cookery so far was this lacto-ovo vegetarian medieval nom nom:

Leek & Mushroom Pie. Nom. Nom. Nom. I have the research and stuff gathered for it, but I just haven't felt like writing it up. It's something I have actually made a lot. I just have never presented it as something that I would have other cooks prep up with some assurance that it's SCA appropriate.
I need to get to it soon, though. Then I won't have it on my to-do list.
4: Why Pictures are so often fail for me:

This was a delicious lunch one day in January. I took a picture so that I'd write it down and share, because, again, it was simple and yum. The roasted veggies were delightful and tend to be the same trick used over and over: veggies, olive oil, spice mix. I can't recall which mix I used here, but the nigella seed is pretty obvious, so it was one of only two blends in my spice box. I remember it was okay, but not as good on roasted veggies as other blends. What I really wanted to recall was the fact that I found that broccoli stalks roast well. Peel the woodiest bits off the stalk with a peeler, chunk 'em up the same way you might chunk a carrot, and go forth and roast.
The moment of fail? The quinoa. I can't recall how I treated it. And it was good. Darn. This happens to me all the time. I'm just not diligent about keeping my cookery notes. ::sigh::
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Injera.... of the wheat-based, North American sort.
I have a great love for sourdough; it's a fabulous flavor addition that also keeps me from having to buy bread yeast. For years, I have been working at making various kinds of pan-baked flat breads from my sourdough, and would eventually come up with a bunch of varieties that I like. Most Americans think about the sort of thing you can get at IHOP as the only sort of pancakes, but actually, there are lots of different kinds of pancakes, as evidenced by this article in Wikipedia.
Injera is sometimes described as a pancake, sometimes as a flat bread, but whatever you call it, it is a quintessential element of Ethiopian cuisine, and I love it. As I have to regularly feed and eat my sourdough, I decided that an injera (of a sort) was an excellent project.
It took me a number of years to get a reliable rate of return on my experiments. This is not a perfect injera, as it is wheat based and does use a little more leavening than just the yeast in the sourdough, but the results of just sourdough, white flour, and water are too gummy to work well. This method will, however, produce a yummy injera that will work under any stew, or wat, or, really, whatever you might usually eat with bread to soak up sauces in any style of cuisine. Actual working time is not that long, but it is a process, so you'll have to plan for it.
Injera is a process, not a recipe!
1. Feed your sourdough starter the night before. I have a well established sourdough starter that I keep in the refrigerator. Take it out, pour off the liquid that has accumulated at the top (this is the alcohol that the fermenting sourdough has produced. You can stir it back in, but it will make a very sharp flavor that many people don't like. It will also make your starter more liquidy, and will require you to adjust the amount of liquid you add later), and scrape the rest into a plastic, ceramic, or glass bowl with plenty of room. Feed the starter one cup of flour and one cup of warm (but not too hot) water. Stir it up with a non-metal utensil*. Don't worry about lumps, just get it all moist. The bacteria and yeast in the sourdough starter will take care of the lumps. Cover the bowl, set it aside, and go to bed.
The amount of activity you get in your sourdough will relate to the temperature in your kitchen. Heat directly affects how fast the sourdough will rise and fall, with warmer kitchens producing faster rises, but 7-8 hours is usually enough in most North American kitchens to get it into the useful cycle without getting it past the useful stage (where you start producing significant amounts of alcohol).
In the morning, return 1 cup of the starter to a jar and place back into the fridge. The remainder in the bowl is what you have to work with for the injera.
If you don't have an established sourdough starter, you can get one either by following these classic instructions, or by purchasing one of the commercially available starters. Or you can get one from a friend. :-)
2. Measure out your remaining sourdough. I usually end up with between 1 to 1.5 cups. From this point, you must recognize that you are working with an ingredient that will never be as predictable as purchased yeast and be prepared for some flexibility.
3. Gather the things you need: a pan for baking, a liquid, and a baking mix. I have a dedicated, round, non-stick, flat griddle/pancake pan. A round frying pan of any sort will work, but this really works best with some kind of griddle pan, preferably something that won't require you to add a "lubricating" ingredient, like butter or oil.
As for liquid: I use almond milk, as this adds more flavor, more body, and more nutrition than water. Soy milk should work, but I haven't tried it. And for the baking mix: I use Bisquick's Heart Healthy mix, as it lacks milk and egg. There is some soy lecithin in it, but as of this time, it hasn't been a problem for me. If it ever gets to the point where it is, I'll just have to mix my own baking mix. There are plenty of instructions for a homemade baking mix online, so I won't go there now.
4. Add the milk and baking mix to the sourdough in the ratio 1 part sourdough to 1.5 parts milk, 1.5 parts baking mix. Let it rest for 15-30 minutes, to allow the sourdough to begin rising.
5. Heat your pan. Just like regular pancakes, test for heat by shaking a few drops of water on the griddle; they should roll about and jump and dance. Reduce heat slightly if needed--if you are the sort, like me, who heats on high, you'll need to cut that back when actually cooking the pancake. Medium to high-medium should do you for the baking of the injera. When the pan is heated, pour a small amount of the batter on to the hot pan and cook (as described below, beginning with #6).
This is where you must remind yourself that you are working with what is an ever-changing ingredient. What will work perfectly on day 1 will not work perfectly on day 2. The heat in your kitchen, the heat in your pan, the time you let the sourdough rise over night, the time you let the mix rise, et cetera, are a delicate balancing act.
When you finish cooking that test injera, eat it as soon as it is cool enough to eat. You are looking for it to be too thick or too gummy. "Gummy" can't really be described well, but if you ever ate a gumdrop, you know it. This method of making injera should produce, when right off the griddle, a very thin and flexible flat bread with a slightly gummy texture, but that texture should be something that you would eat even if a little gummy--you know, that "It's not perfect, but it's tasty and I can manage" sort of moment. If it's too thick--which is usually evident in the pour--add a little more liquid. If it's too gummy, add a little more baking mix and a little more liquid, and set aside another 10 minutes or so. Keep making little text injera until you are either at the point where you are satisfied with the texture, or you have invested as much of the ingredients as you are willing to invest and are accepting of the fact that this will not be a perfect batch (don't worry, though, you can still eat them, more on that later). Remember, though, the more baking mix and almond milk you add, the less intense the sourdough flavor will be.
6. Pour enough batter on the griddle to make a single, thin (about 1/8 inch) injera. Usually, your batter will land in the center and you will swirl it around to make a thin, even layer. Watch for the injera to start cooking and bubbling even as you swirl it around the pan; that's a good sign. Your pan is hot without being too hot and your batter is probably of a good consistency.

7. Let the miricle of heat, steam, and leavening do its magic. You will watch the injera carefully--small bubbles will appear and pop all over the surface. Let it all cook merrily until the top of the injera is dry. You'll recognize it. The above picture is of a dry injera. Spots that were still wet, still needing to cook, would appear brighter. It doesn't actually take very long to get to this stage.

This is a closeup of the surface, with the contrast slightly enhanced, to show you what the surface will look like. The tiny bubbles, like this, are perfect. Larger bubbles are not a problem, but the more little bubbles you have the spongier the texture will be at the end. If you have larger bubbles, try stirring down the batter to reduce the amount of air in the mixture (remember, the yeast is not the only leavening agent at work here, so it's not a tragedy if you stir it down a little). If that doesn't work, make the batter a little thinner with a little more liquid.
8. Flip the injera. Traditional injera is finished at this point, but this recipe is better with a little heat applied to both sides.

You can see the path the batter took when I swirled it in the pan along the pattern in the injera. I usually leave it flipped just long enough to let steam start penetrating this side for 5-10 seconds. Not long, just long enough to let steam start working merrily. (Note that this is the point at which you eat your test injeras, otherwise, proceed)
9. Flip the injera again and move it to a covered dish. I usually place it on a ceramic plate, fold it in half (so that the brown side is out)and cover the plate with a glass frying pan lid. Why? Because you are going to let the residual heat and steam finish cooking the injera--that's what will move the texture from slightly gummy to spongy.

Stack the cooked injera into the covered dish as you cook them. When the last one is done, set them aside and let them completely cook to room temperature. You might want to remove the lid from the dish and shake off the condensation once while it's cooling, but if you forget, it's usually no big deal. Cook up a stew and have a delish dinner.
If your Injera isn't perfect
So you let steam get you to the end and you can't stop yourself from a nibble and decide that, well, this batch came out differently than you hoped. All is not lost, so don't put that stack of food that you spent money and time to make into the garbage yet.
First, cook up the stew you were going to make and try it anyway. Very often, what doesn't work plain will be just fine once it absorbs the sauces from the stew. You can also reheat this on the griddle, and that extra bit of heat will sometimes help.
If that doesn't fix it (and it's rare for me that thiese simple steps won't rescue an imperfect batch) then you can...
Only my first batches, before I stopped stirring the two-week old hootch back into the sourdough or significantly under used baking mix, were ever so awful that I couldn't finish eating what I'd made. I find this to be usable all the time, these days.
Let me know how it goes!
Note:
Sourdough should not be mixed with or rested in metal utensils--the actions of the yeast and bacteria symbosis can pick up flavors from the metal.
Injera is sometimes described as a pancake, sometimes as a flat bread, but whatever you call it, it is a quintessential element of Ethiopian cuisine, and I love it. As I have to regularly feed and eat my sourdough, I decided that an injera (of a sort) was an excellent project.
It took me a number of years to get a reliable rate of return on my experiments. This is not a perfect injera, as it is wheat based and does use a little more leavening than just the yeast in the sourdough, but the results of just sourdough, white flour, and water are too gummy to work well. This method will, however, produce a yummy injera that will work under any stew, or wat, or, really, whatever you might usually eat with bread to soak up sauces in any style of cuisine. Actual working time is not that long, but it is a process, so you'll have to plan for it.
Injera is a process, not a recipe!
1. Feed your sourdough starter the night before. I have a well established sourdough starter that I keep in the refrigerator. Take it out, pour off the liquid that has accumulated at the top (this is the alcohol that the fermenting sourdough has produced. You can stir it back in, but it will make a very sharp flavor that many people don't like. It will also make your starter more liquidy, and will require you to adjust the amount of liquid you add later), and scrape the rest into a plastic, ceramic, or glass bowl with plenty of room. Feed the starter one cup of flour and one cup of warm (but not too hot) water. Stir it up with a non-metal utensil*. Don't worry about lumps, just get it all moist. The bacteria and yeast in the sourdough starter will take care of the lumps. Cover the bowl, set it aside, and go to bed.
The amount of activity you get in your sourdough will relate to the temperature in your kitchen. Heat directly affects how fast the sourdough will rise and fall, with warmer kitchens producing faster rises, but 7-8 hours is usually enough in most North American kitchens to get it into the useful cycle without getting it past the useful stage (where you start producing significant amounts of alcohol).
In the morning, return 1 cup of the starter to a jar and place back into the fridge. The remainder in the bowl is what you have to work with for the injera.
If you don't have an established sourdough starter, you can get one either by following these classic instructions, or by purchasing one of the commercially available starters. Or you can get one from a friend. :-)
2. Measure out your remaining sourdough. I usually end up with between 1 to 1.5 cups. From this point, you must recognize that you are working with an ingredient that will never be as predictable as purchased yeast and be prepared for some flexibility.
3. Gather the things you need: a pan for baking, a liquid, and a baking mix. I have a dedicated, round, non-stick, flat griddle/pancake pan. A round frying pan of any sort will work, but this really works best with some kind of griddle pan, preferably something that won't require you to add a "lubricating" ingredient, like butter or oil.
As for liquid: I use almond milk, as this adds more flavor, more body, and more nutrition than water. Soy milk should work, but I haven't tried it. And for the baking mix: I use Bisquick's Heart Healthy mix, as it lacks milk and egg. There is some soy lecithin in it, but as of this time, it hasn't been a problem for me. If it ever gets to the point where it is, I'll just have to mix my own baking mix. There are plenty of instructions for a homemade baking mix online, so I won't go there now.
4. Add the milk and baking mix to the sourdough in the ratio 1 part sourdough to 1.5 parts milk, 1.5 parts baking mix. Let it rest for 15-30 minutes, to allow the sourdough to begin rising.
5. Heat your pan. Just like regular pancakes, test for heat by shaking a few drops of water on the griddle; they should roll about and jump and dance. Reduce heat slightly if needed--if you are the sort, like me, who heats on high, you'll need to cut that back when actually cooking the pancake. Medium to high-medium should do you for the baking of the injera. When the pan is heated, pour a small amount of the batter on to the hot pan and cook (as described below, beginning with #6).
This is where you must remind yourself that you are working with what is an ever-changing ingredient. What will work perfectly on day 1 will not work perfectly on day 2. The heat in your kitchen, the heat in your pan, the time you let the sourdough rise over night, the time you let the mix rise, et cetera, are a delicate balancing act.
When you finish cooking that test injera, eat it as soon as it is cool enough to eat. You are looking for it to be too thick or too gummy. "Gummy" can't really be described well, but if you ever ate a gumdrop, you know it. This method of making injera should produce, when right off the griddle, a very thin and flexible flat bread with a slightly gummy texture, but that texture should be something that you would eat even if a little gummy--you know, that "It's not perfect, but it's tasty and I can manage" sort of moment. If it's too thick--which is usually evident in the pour--add a little more liquid. If it's too gummy, add a little more baking mix and a little more liquid, and set aside another 10 minutes or so. Keep making little text injera until you are either at the point where you are satisfied with the texture, or you have invested as much of the ingredients as you are willing to invest and are accepting of the fact that this will not be a perfect batch (don't worry, though, you can still eat them, more on that later). Remember, though, the more baking mix and almond milk you add, the less intense the sourdough flavor will be.
6. Pour enough batter on the griddle to make a single, thin (about 1/8 inch) injera. Usually, your batter will land in the center and you will swirl it around to make a thin, even layer. Watch for the injera to start cooking and bubbling even as you swirl it around the pan; that's a good sign. Your pan is hot without being too hot and your batter is probably of a good consistency.

7. Let the miricle of heat, steam, and leavening do its magic. You will watch the injera carefully--small bubbles will appear and pop all over the surface. Let it all cook merrily until the top of the injera is dry. You'll recognize it. The above picture is of a dry injera. Spots that were still wet, still needing to cook, would appear brighter. It doesn't actually take very long to get to this stage.

This is a closeup of the surface, with the contrast slightly enhanced, to show you what the surface will look like. The tiny bubbles, like this, are perfect. Larger bubbles are not a problem, but the more little bubbles you have the spongier the texture will be at the end. If you have larger bubbles, try stirring down the batter to reduce the amount of air in the mixture (remember, the yeast is not the only leavening agent at work here, so it's not a tragedy if you stir it down a little). If that doesn't work, make the batter a little thinner with a little more liquid.
8. Flip the injera. Traditional injera is finished at this point, but this recipe is better with a little heat applied to both sides.

You can see the path the batter took when I swirled it in the pan along the pattern in the injera. I usually leave it flipped just long enough to let steam start penetrating this side for 5-10 seconds. Not long, just long enough to let steam start working merrily. (Note that this is the point at which you eat your test injeras, otherwise, proceed)
9. Flip the injera again and move it to a covered dish. I usually place it on a ceramic plate, fold it in half (so that the brown side is out)and cover the plate with a glass frying pan lid. Why? Because you are going to let the residual heat and steam finish cooking the injera--that's what will move the texture from slightly gummy to spongy.

Stack the cooked injera into the covered dish as you cook them. When the last one is done, set them aside and let them completely cook to room temperature. You might want to remove the lid from the dish and shake off the condensation once while it's cooling, but if you forget, it's usually no big deal. Cook up a stew and have a delish dinner.
If your Injera isn't perfect
So you let steam get you to the end and you can't stop yourself from a nibble and decide that, well, this batch came out differently than you hoped. All is not lost, so don't put that stack of food that you spent money and time to make into the garbage yet.
First, cook up the stew you were going to make and try it anyway. Very often, what doesn't work plain will be just fine once it absorbs the sauces from the stew. You can also reheat this on the griddle, and that extra bit of heat will sometimes help.
If that doesn't fix it (and it's rare for me that thiese simple steps won't rescue an imperfect batch) then you can...
- toast them in the oven and eat with sugar, butter, jam, syrup, et cetera.
- Slice into strips and marinate with a sauce for a very soft noodle.
- cut up and fry with za'atar and olive oil, or some other favorite thing, like pesto or garlic or whatever.
Only my first batches, before I stopped stirring the two-week old hootch back into the sourdough or significantly under used baking mix, were ever so awful that I couldn't finish eating what I'd made. I find this to be usable all the time, these days.
Let me know how it goes!
Note:
Sourdough should not be mixed with or rested in metal utensils--the actions of the yeast and bacteria symbosis can pick up flavors from the metal.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Roasted Cauliflower. And Leftovers.

Yah, I eat a lot of earth-toned food. Yes, yes I do. And I never think about a photo until its impossible to get a good one.
Be that as it may, this piece of a picture features a couple of things I do all the time (1. make something via the fried rice engine, this time, using carrots, onions, and mushrooms and 2. make lentils) and one new thing. It's the new thing I want to mention.
I tried roasted cauliflower. It was wonderful. I did look over multiple recipes, as there are tons of them, and decided that this one was the starter recipe for me.
Except I subbed nootch for Parmesan cheese. And I left off the vinegar. It's all good and stuff, but I was just wanting the veggie and the spices. My modification:
* 8 cups 1-inch-thick slices cauliflower florets
* 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
* 1 tablespoon fresh marjoram
* 1/4 teaspoon salt
* Freshly ground pepper to taste
* 1 t nutritional yeast
* 1 t garlic
Preparation
1. Preheat oven to 450°F.
2. Toss cauliflower, oil, spices in a preheated, great big, cast iron frying pan. [Don't burn yourself!] Spread on a across pan and roast until starting to soften and brown on the bottom, check and stir every 15 minutes until done.
Yum. This was certainly Cauliflower FTW! and I expect the regular recipe is quite nice, too, but I wasn't interested in missing the flavor of the spices by tossing with my exceedingly expensive and super flavorful 18-yr-old Balsamic.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Product Review: Living Harvest Hemp Frozen Desert
People who know me know I love Living Harvest's tempt hemp milk. It's more expensive than my usual almond milk, and it's less frequently available (when I finally ran out of my stock pile, I went to my right well beloved Outpost and hunted the aisles, only to learn that they only carry it when the state-wide, loosely associated food cooperative system has it on sale. Because they have to, then.)
So I get it once in a while, and I stock pile it, and have it as a treat.
I found another treat:

Oh, my goodness.
I tried the mint and the coffee biscotti. This was completely delicious, and even the Baby K and the Baby Ry loved it: high praise indeed. I'm glad to have found it, as it makes a wider range of non-dairy deserts available to us. It is denser that the Luna & Larry's coconut frozen desert, which is nice, but each desert has its own merits, so it is about on par for taste and mouth-feel. Yum.
So I get it once in a while, and I stock pile it, and have it as a treat.
I found another treat:

Oh, my goodness.
I tried the mint and the coffee biscotti. This was completely delicious, and even the Baby K and the Baby Ry loved it: high praise indeed. I'm glad to have found it, as it makes a wider range of non-dairy deserts available to us. It is denser that the Luna & Larry's coconut frozen desert, which is nice, but each desert has its own merits, so it is about on par for taste and mouth-feel. Yum.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Beer and Tsardust
or, The Fried Rice Engine.
... what was I wanting to share about beer? I forgot. Other than I collected a multiple number of beer based recipes that I want to try, of course.
Anyway, I took a run out to Penzy's. Very soon I'll be off to Pennsic, and so I don't want to invest in too much as far as cooking spices go (saving my money for Auntie Arwen), but I did feel the need for smoked paprika, based on one of the beer recipes I've got hanging around. While there, I found a spice blend with the enchanting name of Tsardust memories. The ingredient list read like a typical period receipt (salt, garlic, cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg, marjoram--so, salt, garlic, marjoram, and poudre forte, all found in medieval European cooking) and so I had to bring a jar of it home with me.

This is what I did with it, that first try, and I quite enjoyed it. I do tend to throw vegetables into leftover rice for a quick meal--really, really often, as it happens. Like any bit of cooking that's really more a process than a measured out recipe, it's a little different every time, and, frequently, once the brassica family gets involved, so does some sort of oriental sauce--schezuan, usually, just a little something drizzled over the stir fry.
The usual sauce mix for it involves:
1 T nutritional yeast
1 T Maggi seasoning (or soy or worchestershire--vegan or regular)*
1-3 T olive oil
Into this goes an onion (and thence, sauteed), the rice, and whatever vegetables I decide will complete my meal today. Today, I tossed in a couple teaspoons of the Tsardust memories. It was nice! Nice enough for me to write it down to make sure I try it again.... and can find what I did when I am ready to try.
Many a tasty dish is lost to me because I forgot to write it down.
... what was I wanting to share about beer? I forgot. Other than I collected a multiple number of beer based recipes that I want to try, of course.
Anyway, I took a run out to Penzy's. Very soon I'll be off to Pennsic, and so I don't want to invest in too much as far as cooking spices go (saving my money for Auntie Arwen), but I did feel the need for smoked paprika, based on one of the beer recipes I've got hanging around. While there, I found a spice blend with the enchanting name of Tsardust memories. The ingredient list read like a typical period receipt (salt, garlic, cinnamon, pepper, nutmeg, marjoram--so, salt, garlic, marjoram, and poudre forte, all found in medieval European cooking) and so I had to bring a jar of it home with me.

This is what I did with it, that first try, and I quite enjoyed it. I do tend to throw vegetables into leftover rice for a quick meal--really, really often, as it happens. Like any bit of cooking that's really more a process than a measured out recipe, it's a little different every time, and, frequently, once the brassica family gets involved, so does some sort of oriental sauce--schezuan, usually, just a little something drizzled over the stir fry.
The usual sauce mix for it involves:
1 T nutritional yeast
1 T Maggi seasoning (or soy or worchestershire--vegan or regular)*
1-3 T olive oil
Into this goes an onion (and thence, sauteed), the rice, and whatever vegetables I decide will complete my meal today. Today, I tossed in a couple teaspoons of the Tsardust memories. It was nice! Nice enough for me to write it down to make sure I try it again.... and can find what I did when I am ready to try.
Many a tasty dish is lost to me because I forgot to write it down.
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