Pumpkin

e-pumpkin-cooking-2020-5.JPG
Pumpkin curry

I am shocked how many people tell me that they buy only canned pumpkin and never cook pumpkin fresh. It’s easy to cook pumpkin in the oven. Just cut the pumpkin in half, scrape the center clean of seeds and strings, and bake the pumpkin on a cookie sheet until it’s tender. A big pumpkin will need up to an hour and a half in the oven at 325 to 350 degrees. When the pumpkin is done, let it cool. Then scrape the pumpkin out with spoon, leaving the empty pumpkin shell (and the seeds and strings) for the chickens.

Pumpkin is just too cheap and too nutritious not to use when it’s in season. It’s good for many things other than pies. Search the web, and you’ll get lots of ideas for recipes.

e-pumpkin-cooking-2020-1.JPG
The pumpkin just came out of the oven.

e-pumpkin-cooking-2020-4.JPG

Biscuit quest, continued…

i-biskits-with-soy-19992-1.JPG

Over many months, I have continued to experiment with biscuits. The objective is to make a great biscuit, reasonably true to the Southern standard for good biscuits, but as low-carb as possible, with the lowest possible glycemic index. Flax seed, with which I started experimenting well over a year ago, is only part of the answer, I think. Flax seed, for all its health benefits, tends to make bread gummy if you use too much of it. So how might one counteract the gumminess of flax seed meal?

The best way I’ve found so far is to add soy flour. The caky characteristic of soy flour seems to counteract the gumminess of flax seed meal, giving the biscuit a very satisfactory texture, not only when served hot, but also when served cold.

Here are the proportions I’ve settled on for now, and the proportions I used for the biscuits in the photo above: 1 and 1/3 cup King Arthur whole wheat flour; 1/3 cup flax seed meal; and 1/2 cup soy flour. The biscuits are shortened with coconut oil. I used soy milk, clabbered with a teaspoon of vinegar.

Barley burgers

e-barley-burger-099821.JPG

The barley experiments continue. Barley has a chewiness and heartiness that works nicely in fried patties. The barley burgers above are simple: cooked pearl barley, bound with an egg and whole-wheat bread crumbs and seasoned with chopped onions. I think they’d make a nice breakfast patty if they were seasoned like sausage. That will be the next experiment.

The barley itself was cooked several days ago and stored in the refrigerator. Barley takes a long time to cook, so I like to use a pressure cooker. One part barley to three parts vegetable stock is about right. I leave it in the pressure cooker for about an hour. You want it to soak up as much liquid as possible, with no liquid remaining in the bottom of the pot when the barley is done.

Again, why barley? Because, of all the grains, barley takes the longest to digest and so has a low glycemic index. It sticks to the ribs.

More on thickening soups

s-soup-thicken-0332.JPG

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned barley as a nice way to thicken soups. An even easier way, because it’s something most of us have in our kitchens, is to use a handful of oatmeal.

The soup in the photo is a cream of onion soup, made with soy milk. I threw in some leftover rice and some leftover peas. With soy milk, rich, creamy soups can have zero cholesterol. The combination of oats and rice makes a nice, hearty soup.

Persimmons

persimmon-2.JPG
The diameter of this persimmon is a little bigger than a quarter.

persimmon-1.JPG

Persimmon trees can hide at the edge of the woods during the spring and summer. But in the fall when they’re loaded with fruit, they might as well be flashing with Christmas tree lights. I discovered this persimmon tree on the edge of my woods. I had not noticed it until a couple of weeks ago.

I’m not certain, but I believe that the big, hard, acorn-shaped persimmons that are grown commercially in California are Asian persimmons. Whereas the persimmons that grow wild here in the North Carolina Piedmont and the Blue Ridge foothills are the American persimmon.

What are they good for, you ask. Pudding! I hope to gather enough persimmons to make a pudding before the season is over. If I succeed, I’ll post some photos.

The native persimmons are not fit to eat until they fall from the tree, ripe. Before they are ripe they are unbearably astringent. October frosts can quicken the ripening. But after they fall to the ground, you’ve got to get to them before the wildlife do. There are so many hungry mouths around here.

Gourmet magazine, R.I.P.

p-biscuit-pan-1.JPG
My mother’s mother’s biscuit pan, now a working heirloom

It is strange that, at a time when Americans’ interest in food and culture seems to be reawakening, Gourmet magazine goes out of business. Much has been written about the end of Gourmet, but I very much agree with what many of its readers and former readers have said: Gourmet was much more than a snooty magazine. It always implicitly understood the intimate connection between food and culture.

These days, when even young top-of-the-world Internet whiz kids like Jonah Lehrer can not only write lyrically about home cooking, but also write for Gourmet magazine, it almost feels as though an era has ended when it had barely begun.

Like Jonah Lehrer, I strongly suspect that an interest in cooking often if not always has its roots in childhood. These childhood memories were not only about learning about food and cooking, they also taught us about whatever culture we were born into.

I was a child in the 1950s, living in North Carolina’s Yadkin Valley. My relatives lived mostly in the North Carolina Piedmont and foothills and up into the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. In those days, relatives visited relatives, and often Sunday dinner (which was served right after church) was involved. If one stayed overnight, as sometimes happened, you got not only to sleep in an unheated bedroom under a deep pile of homemade quilts. You also got breakfast.

Whether it was breakfast or dinner, there were always biscuits. As a child, I began to realize that everybody’s made-from-scratch biscuits were very, very different. To this day, if you put a hot time-warp biscuit in front of me on a cool October morning, I believe I would be able to identify the aunt, grandmother, or older cousin who made it.

Let’s hope that the spirit of Gourmet magazine lives on in our blogs, as we learn from each other’s cooking and culture.

About that barley risotto…

k-barley-risotto-1.JPG
Risotto of toasted barley with roasted cauliflower

In the previous post I mentioned a recipe from Gourmet magazine for a risotto made from toasted barley and roasted cauliflower. I decided to make it for supper.

I’d encourage everyone to do a little Googling and read up on the benefits of barley. Not only is it a great base for comfort foods, it’s about 10 percent protein, and it’s an excellent starch for diabetics, with a glycemic index of 25 or so. It’s a nice thickener for soups and broths.

I’ve said this often, but it’s always worth repeating: We should all eat like diabetics even if we’re not. This is especially true in middle age and thereafter, though younger and younger people are being diagnosed with diabetes these days. Plus, a diet suitable for diabetics is just plain healthier, for everyone.

If you try this recipe and you’re not accustomed to cooking barley, cook the living daylights out of the barley, and add as much liquid as you can get the barley to absorb. If that takes an hour, so be it. Substitute whatever is handy. I used a little tomato juice in the water instead of chicken stock, and I used cheddar cheese instead of the parmigiano-reggiano. Frankly I don’t think cauliflower roasts all that well, though. It tends to become a little tough and dry. But any sort of vegetable could work in this recipe.

k-barley-risotto-2.JPG
Toasting the barley before the liquid is added

k-barley-risotto-3.JPG
Roasted cauliflower

k-barley-risotto-4.JPG
The barley is almost done.

Barley season

t-barley-season-0.JPG
Is it soup yet?

Barley is not at all hard to find in the United States, but I don’t think I’ve ever known a traditional cook who uses it. That’s a shame, because not only is barley a fantastic comfort food, its glycemic index is very low — 25. The best soup I ever had was a Scotch broth in a little restaurant in Scotland. It was partly the barley that made the broth so nice and thick (and probably a few sheep bones). Barley can be cooked and served like rice. Or it can be used in risotto instead of rice. In Mediterranean cooking, risotto is a comfort food that probably occupies the same niche as mashed potatoes to us Celtic types.

I bought a bag of barley from the Yadkin Valley General Store, since I knew we’d be getting soup weather before long. I assume the barley came from Pennsylvania, since that’s where this store gets most of its stock. It’s certainly soup weather today: 61 degrees outside with rain and drizzle. I made the season’s first big pot of vegetable soup and included a couple of generous scoops of barley.

I love to have a pot of soup on the stove on cool, rainy days when I have nowhere to go. I’m generous with the garlic. To me, garlic is a vegetable, not just a seasoning. If you crush the cloves lightly but don’t chop them, the garlic flavor won’t overpower the soup.

Soon I want to experiment with some barley risotto. This recipe from Gourmet magazine for roasted cauliflower barley risotto looks inspiring.

t-barley-season-1.JPG
Pearled barley

t-barley-season-3.JPG
Peeled garlic…

t-barley-season-4.JPG
…after a few licks with a cutting board to crush them just a bit

t-barley-season-2.JPG
Raw soup with a heap of barley. Yes, that’s a bag of frozen mixed vegetables, but I did use fresh onions, cabbage, celery, etc.

t-barley-season-5.JPG
It’s started simmering. Three hours to go.

Time to think about fall baking

n-banana-bread-0004.JPG
Banana bread

The autumnal equinox is Tuesday — the first day of fall. At the produce stands, the tomatoes and squash are giving out, and the pumpkins, greens, and apples are coming in. I don’t like to bake during the summer. Not only is the oven a big load on the cooling system, summer foods just don’t crave to be in the oven the way fall foods do. Olive oil and coconut oil are the oils of summer — good for saucing and sautéing. Fall baking likes nut oils and seed soils — even a bit of butter if you dare.

Fruit makes heavy, dark breads far more moist and eatable. Banana bread is a standby. But I plan to make some pumpkin bread as soon as the banana bread is gone. I think I also will experiment with some vegetable breads. Bread made with chopped mustard greens and seasoned with garlic and sage sounds appealing. Mustard and turnip greens are being sold everywhere right now for 99 cents a pound or less.

As always, I try to keep the protein up and the glycemic insult down. This banana bread is made of King Arthur whole wheat flour with plenty of ground flax seed and fresh ground almonds. There are two home-laid eggs. Once again, that’s the vegetarian rule — combine as many types of amino acids as possible to maximize the available protein. This bread contains seeds (flax and wheat), nuts (almonds), legumes (soy milk), and eggs. Don’t get the batter too thick — the flax and almonds soak up a lot of liquid.

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned very clearly that I almost never use recipes. Creativity and experimentation are half the fun. Experienced cooks just know what it takes to make something turn out according to what they have in mind. When I do want to check a basic recipe, I use my 1942 wartime edition of Erma Rombauer’s Joy of Cooking. It’s a great reference that will tell you how to make all the standards from scratch, and from those basic recipes one improvises. Most of my improvisations are about adapting traditional dishes for a Mediterranean diet and applying what we’ve learned about food and health since 1942 (a great deal). And of course I always cook from scratch.

n-banana-bread-0003.JPG
Ground almonds and ground flax seed, before the whole wheat flour was added

n-banana-bread-0001.JPG
Walnut oil

n-banana-bread-0002.JPG