Bake Date: Magical (Vegan) Mango Banana Bread

 

Enough with the traveling -- let's just schmooze in the kitchen for a change (though we've still got trips to the USA, Baltic Sea, and Italy on the list, not to mention home sweet Hamburg).

Warm, spicy, fruity, with the perfect degree of mush to make your heart sing and hips start swaying like a palm tree in the breeze. During one of the last theater spurts I played with this recipe every weekend for four weeks straight. Somehow it never lasted more than a day. Pulled it out again lastnight, brought the product to work this morning and it was gone by 10 a.m., slurpiddy slurp.

What you need:

3 medium or 2 large ripe bananas
1/4 cup applesauce
1 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2  teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp allspice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 ripe mango, sliced into wee chunks

(Tasty variations: chopped walnuts and chocolate chips; chopped dried apricots, ½ inch grated fresh ginger and finely chopped candied ginger…)

Oventemp: 350°F (175°C) ((450°K))
Makes: 1 heavy 9x5" loaf.
Musik: Anything presented by Putumayo based in the southern hemisphere, such as "Brazilian Groove".

Preheat oven. Lightly fatten and flour your pan.
Now ask yourself: Self? Is your mango already sliced and chopped into spectacular orangeyellow chunks? Answer YES, congrats, you may proceed. Answer NO, do that, then move along.

In a large mixing bowl, moosh the bananas well. Add the Brown sugar, applesauce/oil, and vanilla extract, and forkforkfork that in a spinning forknado of sweet integration. Mix in spices and salt, then baking soda. Now thicken with half the flour, fold in mango chunks, and grand finish with the remaining flour.

Goop the batter to the flowery pan and, if using, sprinkle with extra candied ginger/schoko/nuts/sugar grains. Bake in your preheated oven for 45 to 50 minutes. The top should be lightly browned and a knife inserted through the center should come out clean, or with just a few sticky crumblies. Don't underbake this one, as it's already going to be sticky and mooshing with yumness when it's for-real baked.

Remove from the oven without burning yourself and let cool for at least 20 minutes before transferring onto a wire rack to cool completely. Try to depan it too soon and your product will look like a failure. Delicious warm. Delicious cold. Any way you slice it (or spoon it, as will more likely be the case).

Bake Date: Sweet Potatoat Chips

Which, of course, is an abbrev. for Sweet Potato Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies. And which, of course, is a mouthful, particularly when your mouth is already full.
 

 
A fair bit of thought was put into how I wanted to spend my last daylit hours of the year, but I ended lazing about my apartment listening to old episodes of This American Life in lieu of something more exciting, such as anything taking place outside my apartment. That would involve braving the many, many exploding somethings that have been threatening to burn down the block for the past two days. In this part of the globe, it's only legal to sell and set off fireworks to/in/at the general masses in the last three days of the year. Now that the sun has gone down, I can see the colorful fireworkings flash in the windows and reflect in the mirror without having to leave my bed, each of them followed by a KRACHHHH or a SQUWEEEEEEEEEE or a -- ha, that was a dud. Katy Perry would be proud. The self-confidence is combustive and reeks of beer and smoke and burning sulfur.  
 
But that's outside, remember. Inside is cozy and twinkling and sweatpantsed and smells of freshly baked Kekse. À propos:
 
What you need:

• 1 1/2 cups mashed baked sweet potato (1 healthy potato)
• 2 tsp honey
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 cup oats
• 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1 tsp ginger
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves/allspice
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup butter/substitute
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup applesauce
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract/1 packet Vanillezucker
• 1+ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips/chunks/hack
• 1 cup walnuts, if you're looking for surprise crunch

Oventemp: 375°F (190°C)((463.15°K))

Makes: 2 sheets of giant cookies, approx. 3 dozen

Musik: Classic tunes from hang-outage in your childhood kitchen. (PP&M, obviously.)

Bake your sweet potato ahead of time. (You could steam it, but I think that steams out the flavor too much.) It'll probably take just over an hour, depending on your preferred potato-baking temperature. (I'll be the first to admit that I have very little experience in this realm.) Once out and mashable, squash (ha) its orange, steaming innards in a bowl with the honey or a bit of brown sugar and let cool.
 
Medium vessel: Whisk together flours, oats, spices, chemicals. No flinging powder all over the kitchen.
 
Large vessel: Cream together butter and sugars. Introduce sweet potato, egg, applesauce, and vanilla. Smoothen.

Mix the dry into the wet until just combined, then fold in chocolate and/or nuts. Drop 1 to 2 tablespoons of yumslop per cookie in a creative but ergonomic design onto a baking sheet, preferably lined with parchment paper. Bake for approx. 10-12 minutes until edges are lightly browned. Let cool a few minutes on the baking sheet before moving to cooling rack, as your babies will be soft and delicate. Then consume.

Only three more hours of 2012. Let the firework dodging commence!

I wish all a good slide into the new year.

Breakfast Date: Apple Pie Oatmeal

Sometimes you wake up from a mediocre sleep of some not-long-enough length and you look outside to find the absence of all joy in the world and, well, my friend, it's just not lookin' like it's gonna be your day.

And it's cold en plus. Or wet and cold. Or it's not cold, but there is rioting and people are lightin' sheeyit on FIYAH mthfckz and the riot police are hut-two-ing it down your innocent little street.

(This is what happens when anti-nazi demonstrations get out of hand. [...In this case, over five months ago.]) The point is that you still have to get out there no matter what and cultural expectations are preventing you from leaving the house in your sweatpants while still swaddled in your down comforter. Allow me to make a suggestion.

(Adapted from this recipe.)

What you need:

• 1 medium sized apple, chopped into small pieces
• dried cranberries
• 1/3+ cup rolled oats
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground ginger
• sprinkle of nutmeg
• 3/4 cups milk
• splash of maple syrup
• 1/2 cup unsweetened applesauce
• 1/4 tsp pure vanilla extract
• 1 tsp lemon juice
• 2 tbsp chopped toasted walnuts, a sprinkling of graham cracker crumbs...

Serves: 1 very hungry person or 2 somewhat hungry people.
Musik: Whatever it takes to help ease you into today's version of your life.

Heat the apple chops and cranberries/dried fruit of choice in a saucepan over medium heat for a few minutes until things start getting soft and steamy. At this point add the oats, spices, milk, maple, and applesauce. Mix that sucka weeeell. After a few minutes, your breakfast concoction should reach your desired consistency, at which point you should remove it from heat and add the vanilla, lemon, and walnuts/crusty bits.

Now, now. Out you go.

 



 

*all photos from a time before trees lost all dignity

Breakfast Date: Carrot Cake Oatmeal

 

I love the idea of oatmeal. I love the concept of a warm, comforting, slightly chunky goo that is full of nutrients and your favorite flavor of the day that slides down your esophagus and coats your stomach with its clingy embrace before the acids there detach its sticky, clinging fingers. I mean really-- what's not to love? I'll tell you: the goo that remains once the heat has left it, the texture, often the taste. My mother has always been a big proponent of the oatmeal and after years of trying and not being able to make it past the third bite, I'm finally starting to understand the reason for her enthusiasm. See, I am such a big fan of The Oatmeal Concept that I have been putting in extra effort in the past year to train my mouth to accept it. Meine Damen und Herren, it is possible. There are so many ways oatmeal can be delicious! You can cook the oats in conjunction with chunks of banana, walnuts, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cranberries with a fruity glob of applesauce on top. You can prepare it with fresh apples and nuts and spices and trick your mouth into thinking it's pie. You can whip some up in no time on a GDR-era camp stove before sunrise in Spain with nothing but fresh milk and cheap oats and sweet German honey. Or you can get really fancy and pretend it's carrot cake. It's so interesting how tastebuds mature.

I did try some instant oatmeal the other day, however, and BLECHhkgkgkgkg. That stuff is terrible! Still a no-go on potatoes, too, mother. No need to ask. Oh, Mann-- potato oatmeal? Gag me with a spoon.

Adapted from this recipe.

What you need (for one serving):

• 1/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup of thinly grated carrot
• a few date chunks
• 1 tsp brown sugar
• 1/2 cup rolled oats
• 1/2 cup milk
• pinch of salt
• 1/4 tsp vanilla
• a healthy shake of cinnamon
• smaller shakes of nutmeg & ginger
• pinch of allspice
  ~~~
• 1 tbsp plain yogurt
• 1 tbsp cream cheese
• 1 tsp maple syrup
  ~~~
• 1 tbsp chopped, toasted pecans or walnuts 
• 2 tsp shredded unsweetened coconut
• a few more date chunks
• a healthy zesting of orange

Musik: Something ambitious, adventuresome, like the soundtrack to Amélie or, better yet, "Chariots of Fire".

Simmer the water, grated carrot, the few date chunks, and sugar over medium heat until most of the water has been absorbed and your carrots have surrendered their crunch. Add the milk, rolled oats, and spices. Stir to your favorite oatmeal tenderness/consistency, then plop in vanilla drops. Meanwhile with your other two hands, stir together the yogurt, cream cheese, and syrup in a separate vessel until smoothish. Transfer cake/oatmeal to your favorite breakfast bowl, top with frosting and nuts, the few more date chunks, coconut, and zest. (The zest is really what makes this dish in my opinion. Without it, all you have is mush.) Commence with artsy food photography and consume before it gets cold. That's right-- you totally rocked that.

Soup Date: Lemony Lentil Explosion

I could potentially assail your eyes with Swiss Family adventures, but the uncompleted task of interrogating well over a thousand photos to test for their blogability is a little daunting, to be quite frank. Therefore, I think I'll assail your stomach with tales of really great soup instead.

When it comes to lentil lovers, I have to admit I was a late bloomer.  I can't remember a single time when I came downstairs for dinner and the sight of lentils on the table conjured the fluttering of butterflies in the realm of my intestines. After taking my leave from the family table of my childhood, I was free to avoid them at will and did so without so much as adieu-- which was proper seeing as I would reconnect with those tiny morsels of tastiness in one of life's dark, rainy alleyways not terribly long after our separation. A chance encounter with some lentil soup somewhere in Germany two years ago electrified my taste buds with surprising elation, and that's when I knew it was time for a second chance. Without further ado, I assessed this auspicious quest and requested the aid of this recipe, which-- with some tweaking-- has yet to let me down. Simply said, it is a flavor-punching, thickly oozing, esophagus-blanketing slop of heart-warming glory. Particularly perfect for uncomfortable weather.

What you need:

• olive oil
• at least half of a small red onion, diced
• ≈ 3 pungent garlic cloves, smashed
• 2 Tbsp tomato paste
• 2 tsp cumin
• ≈ 1/2 tsp salt
• ≈ 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
• ≈ 1 tsp chili powder 
• ≈ 1/2 tsp ground cilantro 
• crushed red pepper
• 8 cups vegetable stock
• 2 cups red lentils (you could theoretically use other lentils, but I promise your soup won't look nearly as appetizing if you do)
• 2ish large carrots, diced
• 1 large red pepper 
• 3+ Tbsp lemon juice 
• chopped fresh cilantro
• olive oil for drizzling
• earthy/crusty/amazing bread and cheese

The original recipe only makes three bowls, so I doubled it here along with other alterations. This soup is good several days in a row and can also be frozen for future digestion.

Additional note: If you don't already own an immersion blender, purchase/steal/be gifted one. Now. THEY ARE SO COOL AND FUN.

Musik: This is the time of year when I start accompanying everything I do with the Vince Guaraldi Trio's wintry classic: A Charlie Brown Christmas. Lentil soup creation is no exception.

Once all the ingredients have been summoned, relax attentively into the zen of dicing/smashing until all your vegetable bits have shrunk and multiplied. Then heat a splash of olive oil over medium heat in a large, inviting pot, wherein you will soon treat your onion and garlic smash to a pleasant hot oil massage. After a couple minutes of enjoyment and no burning, plop in the tomato paste and precipitate the cumin, salt, black pepper, chili powder and ground cilantro. Stir thickening slop. You may need to add a bitty splotch more oil and temporarily remove the pot from heat to keep the spicy conglomeration from burning. Add the crushed red pepper if you have no fear in your mouth for a little excitement. Hail all carrot and red bell pepper chunkings!

Mix the new veggie friends into the thick, fragrant goo before adding the vegetable stock. Bring to a bubbly boil, then add lentils, reduce heat, and simmer down until the wee things are cooked and the carrots are tender. Roundabout 15 minutes, or longer if your lentils are stubborn.

By now your concoction should be looking like a soft, gloppy stew of gastronomical greatness. Add about half of the fresh cilantro if you've got it, then get ready for the fun part: insert immersion blender and puree until all chunks have been annihilated! If you're not cool enough to have an immersion blender, you could also use other sorts of blending machines and deal with the messier cleanup, or just leave it chunky if that's what you're into. Proceed with the all-purpose magical ingredient: lemon juice. No use taste testing until you add that to the mix, but do sample away once you have. Decide for yourself what alterations are required to best satisfy your buds (taste and dinner guests)-- I usually end up adding more lemon juice and chili powder, but that's me.

Once almost perfect, serve up the sloppysoupyum into bowls and seal the deal with a drizzle of olive oil (-- don't ignore this part!) and a decorative dusting of fresh cilantro. Pair with your amazing selection of bread and cheese (great for dipping!) and prepare your guts for greatness. Guten Appetit!

Soup Date: Gingcatom.

Imagine you recently made a lot of amazing borscht. What do you have left once every last scarlet drop has been licked from the bowl? A whooole lotta cabbage, that's what. Na, und? You've got a few options here. For example, you could a.) let it sit in the fridge until it turns into kimchi, b.) make those fiendish rabbits in the garden very happy (Don't do it, Jnana!), or c.) put on your best excited face and make more soup! This was a new recipe for me, the base for which I found on this website while seeking inspiration. I was looking for some flavor to go BAM in my mouth and YUM in my larynx. That flavor was gingcatom, or rather, ginger-cabbage/carrot-tomato soup.

Delivered with a face kick.

 What you need:

• 3 garlic cloves (more or less depending on personal preference, or that of your significant other), smashed 
• onion-- two medium or one small, chopped
• olive oil
• 1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger (at least!)
• 2 cups juicy diced/dicey juiced tomatoes
• cabbage-- about a quarter of a large head or half a small head, or whatever amount you've got, thinly sliced into bite-sized pieces
• ≈ 6 cups vegetable stock
• your favorite Red Hot Chili Pepper powder
• salt & freshly ground black pepper
• rice noodles
• fresh mint leaves, sliced

Musik: Something with a beat you can dice a lot of vegetables to. I would recommend anything presented by Putumayo with "Beat" or "Groove" in the title. Or RHCP.

Note: Much like Unbeetable Borscht, this soup also tastes better the longer it sits. Within reason.

Step one: Chop, dice, smash, happy dance.

Step two: You put that stock on to boil, yeah!

Step(s) three & beyond: Large pot. Medium heat. Honor the Hierarchy of Sauteing. Liek thees: Heat olive oil splotch. Add diced garlic smash, followed by onion chop. Do not burn diced garlic smash. Once onion chop is tender, gingerly add great ginger grate. (Notes: Make sure to grate the fresh ginger root-- you can find this at most any supermarket, so much better than powdered-- over a small bowl, so as to catch all of its glorious precipitatory juices. Don't let all its veiny hairs frustrate you. Additionally, try to avoid adding veiny hairs (or any hairs) to your soup. Reserve some of the ginger, or better, grate MORE! to add later, as well as the juices.) Roll carrot dice(d) for a few minutes. Add tomato, cabbage, stock. Now we're cookin'! Stir in a sprinkle of salt, a few grinds of pepper, and a teaspoon or so of chili powder hotness (more or less). Put a lid on it. Simmer down now.

While that does its thing, cook yerself some rice noodles. (I didn't use rice noodles, but I should have.) Once the vegetables in the Big Pot start tenderizing (oh, roundabout 15 minutes), add the ginger juices and the majority of the fresh mint. Taste test the broth and adjust the seasoning as desired. You could also adventure a bit and add other flavors, such as lemon juice, soy sauce, Nutella... but whatever you do, don't mess up the Yum.

Now you could either serve up the bowl(s) with noodles and then pour the soup atop them, or just throw it all together, whatever. Once in the bowl, sprinkle with more mint and chili.

Noms away!

Soup Date: Unbeetable Borscht

Beet. Carrot. Cabbage. Onion. When a friend first introduced me to this four-veggie bowl filler, I can't say I was overly keen on sticking my spoon in it. I have this thing against onions, y'see. Then my eyes caught a whiff of it and it smelled so pretty that I knew it couldn't be all that bad. It was in the first taste of its light-hearted heartiness that my heart discovered the divine. We cried, "Let there be borscht!" and the vegetables went forth and multiplied in proportions pleasing to our will and performed ambrosial ablutions, bathing themselves in the warm waters of the sunset with much rejoicing, and there was borscht, and we saw that it was good, and it was so good.

Original recipe happily discovered at seriouseats.com.

What you need:

• 2 medium onions (if you're on good terms with this pungent bulb; I used one small onion and was content), sliced vertically into natural crescents 
• 1 pound beets (at least), cut into matchsticks
• 2 large carrots, also matchsticked 
• ≈ 1 pound white cabbage (ie. about a quarter of a large adult head and maybe half of a smaller child head), thinly shredded
• olive oil
• 1 clove garlic, smashed/diced 
• ≈ 5 cups veggie stock
• 1+ tablespoon lemon juice 
• salt to taste
• coarsely ground black pepper
• sour cream and finely chopped fresh parsely, when desired

Note: This makes a hulluvalotta borscht.

Musik: I was about to blast a CD of Piazzolla's best tangos when I discovered something even better in Apartmentmate's collection: HOT. RUSSIAN. TANGO. More specifically: Efim Jourist Quartett: Russisches Roulette. Nothing could have been more perfect. On the off chance that you do not own this compact disc, anything accordiany, brassy, fiddley, and upbeet Eastern Europeany would suffice. Or tango. Seriously.

A confession: Overexcitement often misleads me to cook the first round of vegetables before later rounds are prepared for the party on the stovetop. The chasm of poorly timed cooking is as dark as the pot calling the kettle black, and as deep as Hades' sewer system. Don't fall in. Chop, slice, smash, matchstick all your ingredients before feeding them to the fire. If all goes well, they should look somewhat like this:

Not bad, eh? Quick notes:
1. Make sure all the veggies strips/sticks/crescents are as close to bite-sized as possible. This will make your life much easier later on.
2. If there is no evidence of animal sacrifice to be found on your hands and work surface by the time you finish cutting the beets, cut more beets.
3. If you're not into the zen of chopping, befriend a food processor.

Now for the other easy part. Put the veggie stock on to boil in a small pot on a lonely corner of the stove. Lightly mingle the garlic smash with a splash of olive oil in a large pot. (Go for the big one-- remember that mountain of cabbage you just chopped?) Give the garlic no more than one minute of solo time (its ego is odiferous enough as it is) before adding the onion. Listen to their sizzlin' (but sad, those onions are so emo) duet for another minute before the carrot and beet back-up dancers steal the show. Make sure to reserve at least a quarter of the beets (and their juice, if there is any) to add later for ultimate visual sanguination.

After about five minutes of this musical madness, or whenever the carrots begin to tenderly express their feelings, drown them all out with the hot stock and cabbage. Bring to a boil and then simmer the vegetables into submission, about 15-20 minutes. Add the remainder of the beets before they feel too left out and simmer for another few minutes. Once all the vegetables have simmered down, invigorate them again with the lemon juice, salt (not too much!), and a healthy grinding of black pepper. Feel free to play around with the proportions here until the taste meets your standards.

Hopefully your borscht will have taken on a nice purpley, ruddy complexion by this point. Don't fret if this is not the case, as the color will continue to deepen with time. This is one of those magical dishes that ages well, like George Clooney. I think he, er.. it, tastes even better the day after its genesis.

Unless you're playing the vegan card or just don't like sour cream (I don't... with the exception of borscht), plop a dollop into the middle of your borscht-filled bowl, sprinkle on a little parsley when inclined, and let the fun begin. Let there be goodness. Let there be borscht.

P.S. If you're not a beet person, this recipe probably isn't for you. However! You can still indulge in the delectable pleasure of saying it aloud. Do it. Borscht. Borschtborschtborscht.

P.P.S. In spite of multiple morbid references, I made it through that whole recipe without using the word "blood" in any form. Unbeetlievable!)

Breakfast Date: Banana Nut Muesli Concoction

I can't stop consuming this deliciousness. While eating my fifth (sixth? seventh?) bowl of this beautiful glop, I figured I might as well share it with the breakfast-loving people of the world. Thus commenceth The Recipe Posts. (I figure that even if no one cares to try them out, it at least gives me an excuse to take moodily lit photos of food. And then look at them. Yum.) Listen up!

What you need:

• plain yogurt
• honey
• half of a ripe banana
• your favorite crunchy granola
• pecans, walnuts, nuts of choice
• fresh dates (or a hot date)
• milk
• modify at will

 Musik: something gentle & joyful, preferably with good harmonies

This adventure begins with a mighty dollop of yogurt in your favorite breakfast bowl, mightiness dependent upon size of bowl and appetite. I use about half a cup.  Dazzle your yogurt with a drizzle of honey (make sure to create a cool design) according to your sweetness preference, then stir it all together and give it a quick lick. It's best if you leave it a bit too sour because you're about to surprise it with a whole lot more sweet. Go bananas briefly while quartering your banana half and then slice the chunks into the mix. Make sure: a.) your banana is soft and sweet and not green, and b.) the chunks make a pleasant "plop" sound when they hit the yogurt. No(n/m)chalantly add a layer of granola. (I use about a third of a cup. ...Interesting how "I use about third a cup" doesn't work here. Hm.) Now we go nutty! But not too nutty, mind. Break up a few walnuts and pecans or whatever, no more than three each for my bowl, and scatter them artistically on the breakfast pile. (I shouldn't need to say this, but just in case, don't use salted/otherwise flavored ((ie. wasabi)) nuts!) Carefully chop one or two of your fresh dates into little pieces (do stop if they start to protest) and lay the pieces dotingly on top of Mount Muesli, making sure they don't stick together. Finally, top it off with a tablespoon or two of milk (not too much or you get runny muesli soup!) and mix it all together into a thick, chunky breakfast stew. Do that cool trick with the spoon.

(Dirty little secret: This deliciouses at all times of day and night. Try it as an evening snack!)

Guten Appetit!