Pecan Sour Cream Coffeecake

Rich, Mary, and family came up last weekend. It's the first time we've been together in Bellingham since we moved. At our 800 square foot house in Seattle, all 9 of us in one place would have been physically impossible without a tent in the yard. It's hard to describe how wonderful it felt to host THEM, for once. The kids ran around willy nilly and we very loosely kept an eye on them while we drank coffee all day and caught up on months of news and musings.

Rich and Mary are one of my most appreciative cooking audiences. They swoon over everything and don't complain about the carnage I leave in my wake. I'm really, really speedy in the kitchen. As Yancey will tell you, that's partly because "Clean as you go!" is not a mantra of mine. (But I'm getting better. We've had the serious conversation where I say, "If it's important to you, it's important to me." That's marriage in a nutshell.) So Mary (cheerfully) did a lot of dishes. But with the walls we knocked down, it doesn't matter! We are still all together. Thank you, Universe, for this house and all the people it's hosted already. The fact that it's only half done hasn't stopped us at all.

I always joke that I'm not a brunch fan. Who would ever want to combine two meals into one?! Let's eat all three, at LEAST. But a weekend with friends is why brunch was invented--no one is paying attention to the clock, there's no pressure or plans, and it meant we could go out for "dinner" at 4:30 with all the kids. (Fiamma Burger, of course.)

I'll bet your mother or your aunt used to make a coffee cake like this--tons of sour cream, a layer of nut struesel in the middle. Nigella Lawson has a cake she calls, "Cut and Come Again." Cut some big wedges for brunch, leave the rest on the counter, and find a plate of crumbs at the end of the day.

Pecan Sour Cream Coffeecake
Adapted from Ina Garten. I used one cup of sour cream and one cup of nonfat Greek yogurt because that's what I had in the fridge. If you used all Greek yogurt, I'd recommend that at least half of it be the whole milk kind. And you could sub walnuts or almonds for the pecans.

For cake:
12 Tb. unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/2 c. granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
2 c. sour cream (or 1 c. sour cream and 1 c. Greek plain yogurt)
3 extra large eggs at room temperature
2 1/2 c. flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. kosher salt 

For struesel:
1/4 c. packed brown sugar
1 c. pecans, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
1 tsp. cinnamon

For icing:
3/4 c. powdered sugar
3 Tb. real maple syrup 

Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour a bundt pan.

Cream the butter and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer until light and fluffy, 4-5 minutes. Add eggs one at at a time, then add vanilla and sour cream. 

In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. With the mixer on low, add the flour mixture to the batter until just combined. Finish stirring with a spatula to make sure the batter is completely mixed.

For the struesel, combine nuts, sugar, salt, and cinnamon.

Spoon half the batter into the pan and spread it out with a knife. Sprinkle the struesel topping over and top with the rest of the batter. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.

Let cool for at least 30 minutes, then turn out on a plate. Stir powdered sugar and maple syrup together. Mixture will be quite thick. Spread it on, and a bit will start to run down the sides. Cut and come again.

Cornmeal Biscuits with Ham and Cheddar

I've got an easy, crowd-pleasing little savory bite here, and  not much else to say except that I am, still and again, so grateful for my life.

If you're a mom, you've probably seen this post going around--about how our kids need us and not expertly executed birthday parties, cute Easter crafts, or the stress of living up to the curated perfection of Pinterest. And if you're not a Mom, the same is true--the people in your life need YOU, your presence, the way you show up, more than anything you produce or any ideal you uphold. 

And I want to show up--with children, husband, strangers, clients, friends--in a way that's open to outcome, drawing from energy deeper than mine, and ready to give and receive. I do that better some days than others. Some moments that have helped me out lately:

• A family outing to Vancouver, where we played on the beach, ate lots of sushi, went on long bike rides, and enjoyed the miracle of being a foursome in the world
• Sun!! Not oodles, but enough to remind me that orb is still in the solar system
• Loretta practicing her letters all the time, on every scrap of paper in the house
• Wyatt winning a ribbon at the science fair and constantly thinking in fractions
• Starting to work on the house again
• Wyatt coming home from soccer, covered head-to-toe in mud
• Walking the labyrinth at my church and feeling renewed my calling as a peacemaker
• Spring cleaning and tossing things I don't love or need
• Aerobics with Liz, bopping to the '80's with some really fit 70 year-olds

And these biscuits. It's not warm here yet despite the fact that it's technically spring. So we're still having soup and biscuits for dinner. It could be worse.

Cornmeal Biscuits with Ham and Cheddar
Adapted from Gourmet. I usually have some proscuitto around, which is the "ham" in these biscuits. I buy the German brand of proscuitto at Trader Joe's, which is very reasonably priced and has a good balance of saltiness and fat. If you want, you can add chopped chives, fresh thyme, or green onions. These couldn't be easier--one bowl, a wooden spoon.

2 c. flour
1/4 c. cornmeal
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp sugar
1 tsp. salt
6 Tb. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" cubes
1 1/2 c. grated sharp cheddar
1/2 c. coarsely chopped proscuitto or cooked ham
1 c. well-shaken buttermilk 

Put a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat oven to 450. Butter a large baking sheet or line with parchment paper.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt in a medium bowl. Blend in butter with your fingertips until mixture resembles coarse meal. Stir in cheddar and ham. Add buttermilk and stir until just combined.

Drop dough in 12 equal mounds about 2" apart onto baking sheet. Bake until golden, 15-20 minutes.

Kimchi Soup (and my essential Asian pantry)

For some reason--the vitamin D, lighter evenings, more kimchi--things are looking up around here. In spite of the unrelenting, almost menacing rain, I'm finding it a little easier to face the day and even dare to dream about summer. Wyatt and Yancey both said to me today, "Don't get your hopes up! It might rain all summer." And then Wyatt quoted me back to me: "Peace ends where expectations begin." Damn that kid. I can't keep up with him. (And yes, Amity, I am totally stealing that awesome gem from you and your uncle. It's already helped me out of a lot of scrapes this week.)

These are the kinds of days when my whole body just wants to be warm. (I know I sound like I'm 80.) If I'm not drinking a hot beverage, I'm scheming about how to get a few minutes in the steam room at the YMCA, stay in bed longer, or make soup. Especially this soup. 

This is a classic Korean soup, and there are more complicated and caloric ways to make it. It's often made with pork belly (yum!), but the point for me is usually to have something quick and healthy. I can make it for myself in 10 minutes for a working lunch at home. It takes that long to make a sandwich, for gracious sake.

Of course, this would be impossible without my pantry. When Armageddon comes, feel free to hole up with us. We might have brown rice and kimchi for months on end, but we won't run out of food. If we're really desperate, we could probably live on Asian condiments for a week or two. 

Here's my dream (Westernized) Asian pantry. Sheepishly, I should admit that this dream is a reality most the time. Even though we've moved out of our Asian-Market-on-Every-Corner Seattle neighborhood, I have my ways: 

• Sesame oil and sesame seeds (white and black)
• Hoisin sauce
• Oyster sauce
• Rice vinegar
• Soy sauce
• Fish sauce
• Mirin (sweet rice wine)
• Toasted seaweed sheets
• Sriracha (hot sauce)
• Sambal (hot sauce)
• Furikake, a few different kinds (Japanese seasoning shakers, usually containing seaweed, sesame seeds, and dashi)
• Miso paste
• Korean hot pepper paste (gochujang)
• Peanut or vegetable oil
• Fresh ginger and garlic
• Napa kimchi
• White and brown rice
• Rice noodles
• Coconut milk
• Red curry paste 
• Limes
• Peanuts

Most of these things keep indefinitely at room temp or in the fridge once opened. If you live in the Seattle area, H Mart in Lynnwood will make you lose your mind. They have an entire aisle of Korean hot paper paste, about 10 million kinds of fresh noodles (soba, udon, etc.), and their cooler of braising greens will make you cross-eyed. If you live in an area that doesn't have Asian markets, Cash and Carry is great for pantry items--a big bottle of sweet chili sauce, for instance, at a fraction of the price the "Asian" aisle at the grocery store will charge.

Wherever you are, I hope Spring is advancing. Tell that rascal not to skip over Bellingham.

Kimchi Jigae
Serves 2. Heat 1 Tb. peanut or vegetable oil in a heavy saucepan. Briefly saute 1 minced garlic clove. Add 2 c. coarsely chopped napa kimchi with its juice, 2 Tb. Korean hot pepper paste, 2 Tb. miso paste,  and 2 Tb. rice vinegar. Stir constantly and saute for another minute. Add 12 oz. softest tofu you can find and enough water to barely cover everything. Simmer for 10 minutes until warmed through. If you want to get fancy, you can add lots of fresh veggies--spinach, kale, or chard at the end, or finely sliced zucchini, cabbage, or julienned carrots at the beginning. Garnish with sliced green onions and a drizzle of sesame oil.

Banana Lemon Scones

Give me carbs.

Yancey and I were watching late-night TV the other night. (I'm the last one to join the party, but I'm finally smitten with Jimmy Fallon.) I was full from dinner and drowsy. And yet, unbelievably, I was thinking about breakfast the next morning. About how I didn't want a kale smoothie or rewarmed Irish oats. How I wanted to smell something in the oven and the kids to come running up the stairs asking what it was.

I had a foggy memory of this scone recipe from an edition of Fine Cooking that's long since disappeared. I'm an insatiable magazine reader, but I don't keep them. It might threaten our marriage. So I sometimes clip or scan recipes, but mostly I just enjoy them in the moment and move on. Thank God for the internet and for YMCA members who will read any old donated crap in order not to focus on their workouts. 

I was skeptical that one diced banana would do the trick, but these were so stunning. They had a delicate banana aroma and flavor, but totally different than banana bread or banana cake. And, if you really pay attention, bananas are actually a little acidic, and the lemon paired perfectly. I have hardly been known to peel a banana and eat it out of hand, but I can't resist banana desserts and baked goods.

We've had some sweet family time this weekend--cooking, a little road trip with lots of singing, naps, New York Times. And, despite my skepticism, Spring has got to come. It can't help but get closer.

Banana Lemon Scones
Adapted from Fine Cooking. I added 1/4 c. brown sugar for two reasons--to make them sweeter and to make them more tender. It had the effect of the scones spreading ever so slightly, but it was worth it. If you want sturdier guys, leave it out. Most scones aren't good the next day, but these are delicious as the banana keeps them moist.

For the scones:
2 c. flour
1/4 c. granulated sugar
1/4 c. brown sugar
1 Tb. finely grated lemon zest
1/2 tsp kosher salt
6 Tb. cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
1 medium ripe (but not mushy) banana, cut into 1/4"dice
3/4 c. + 2 Tb. heavy cream(and more for brushing)
coarse white sanding sugar (optional) 

For the glaze:
3/4 c. powdered sugar
1 1/2 Tb. lemon juice
1 Tb. butter, softened
pinch kosher salt

Heat oven to 375 and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugars, lemon zest, and salt. With your fingers, rub the butter into the flour mixture until a few pea-sized lumps remain. Stir in the banana. Add the cream, and with a fork, gradually stir until the mixture just comes together.

Turn the dough onto a lighly floured surface and pat into a 7" circle about 1" high. Using a chef's knife, cut the dough into 8 wedges. Transfer to the baking sheet, spacing the wedges 1-2" apart. Brush the tops with heavy cream and sprinkle liberally with sanding sugar (if using).

Bake until tops are golden, about 18-20 minutes, rotating halfway through baking for even browning. Transfer scones to a wire rack and cook slightly, 3 or 4 minutes.

In a small bowl, stir the powdered sugar, lemon juice, butter, and salt until smooth. Drizzle the warm scones with the glaze. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Chicken Chickpea Stew

I know I'm not the first to praise the restorative powers of chicken soup.

I've been meaning to make some of these, and nothing cheers me up in cold February like a big bowl of pho, steaming with anise-scented broth and lime juice.

And when new babies come or when tragedy or illness strikes, soup is inevitably my answer. I usually don't bring over a multi-course dinner, because I find that prevents me from offering. And I usually don't plan when I'll drop something by. I just do it according to my energy and schedule. And the recipient can always freeze it if 20 other people brought dinner that day.

I don't remember where I read the story of an American traveler, somewhere in remote parts of Southeast Asia. He approached a hut, needing a question answered or maybe needing shelter. He heard the inhabitants scurrying around, saying to one another, "There's someone on the porch! Let's make rice!"

I love that. I try to live by it--"There's someone on the porch. Let's make rice." Instead of keeping them standing at the door, having a perfunctory conversation, pretending like I don't have time, or resenting the interruption. I don't do this perfectly, but I know I won't get to the end of my life and wish I'd vacuumed the floor or answered my email instead.

My friend Liz's mom fell and broke her arm in 3 places, so it was soup time. I checked my pantry and freezer, and this is what I came up with. I rarely actually cook recipes out of magazines, but they always influence me. I'd just been reading the new issue of Saveur and their feature on Persian cooking (salivate!), so was thinking about pomegranate molasses and walnuts. 

Happy Rice-Making!

Chicken Chickpea Stew
Serves 6. If you don't have pomegranate molasses, just add a little more lemon juice. The tahini gives this soup a richness and depth that's unbelievable, but I bet you could substitute finely ground walnuts if you don't have tahini around. And chicken thighs are my favorite for this sort of thing, but you could certainly use breasts if that's what you have in your freezer. I didn't make this spicy since it wasn't for me, but you could spice it up with dried chile flakes, fresh chiles, or sambal.

If you're slow cooker kind of folk, this would be great in a slow cooker. I gave mine away because I like to fuss, stir, taste, and hover. I never wanted to be away from my project that long. I'm weird.

4 garlic cloves
4 Tb. olive oil
2 roasted red peppers, drained (I just used the kind in the jar)
2 tsp. cumin
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs, fresh or frozen 
1 14 oz. can chickpeas, drained
1 28 can crushed tomatoes
juice of 1/2 lemon
3 Tb. tahini
3 Tb. pomegranate molasses
1 Tb. sugar
1/4 c. chopped fresh cilantro

Optional garnishes:
cilantro
toasted walnuts
lemon wedges
olive oil
chile flakes 

In a food processor, pulse garlic and roasted red pepper until you have a puree. Heal olive oil in a large, heavy stockpot and add red pepper puree. Add cumin fry for a couple minutes, stirring constantly. Add everything else except cilantro and cover with about 1" of water.

Simmer for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until chicken is tender and flavors have melded. Break chicken pieces up with a spoon or remove them from the soup and roughly chop. Add them back and add more salt, pepper, or lemon juice to taste and the cilantro.

Serve soup with garnishes, if you like, or with a scoop of rice or quinoa in the middle.