I have no restraint. As I scraped every last morsel of frangipane from my mixer into the tart shell, I knew it was too much. There was barely room for the apricots. I should scoop some of this filling out, I thought. Nope. Not going to do it. I assured myself it would work out and pushed on.
Fortunately, I followed every other instruction in the recipe as well, including baking the tart on a cookie sheet, which caught a frightening amount of spillage, saving me from enduring a major post-baking oven-cleaning session. Why? Why?! Why do I not use my head sometimes?
Anyway, on Wednesday, a dear friend, remembering my adoration for frangipane tarts emailed me telling me he was going to make this recipe over the weekend. I clicked on the recipe, which sounded lovely, and thought, I’d like to make that too. Right now in fact.
And so I did, and it turns out that the recipe is quite lovely. It’s summery and festive, and with sugar-crusted apricot halves peeking through a golden-brown top, it would be show-stopping at a picnic, just as the article describes.
But while I loved the crust and the overall taste of the filling — reminiscent of pecan pie but without that trademark Karo-syrup sweetness — I think I might prefer this tart with peaches or plums. I’m not sure what’s to blame but my apricots oddly developed an almost canned taste during the baking. Has that ever happened to you? It was strange. Or maybe I would just prefer fruit that is cut into pieces, which might not look as pretty, but which might offer a better balance of flavors overall. If any of you out there give this recipe a go, I’d love to hear your thoughts. And last, I should note that a spoonful of cool and tangy crème fraîche as suggested accompanied this tart perfectly.
Apricot & Almond Tart
Source NY Times
Time: 2 hours 10 minutes, plus at least 2 1/2 hours for chilling and resting
FOR THE PASTRY
9 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cubed
2 1/4 cups flour, plus more as needed
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 large egg yolk
FOR THE FRANGIPANE
7 ounces whole blanched almonds, a bit more than a cup
1 cup light brown sugar, plus more for sprinkling
14 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise and scraped, pulp reserved and pod discarded
1 tablespoon flour
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
6 medium or 8 small ripe but firm apricots, halved and pitted
Crème fraîche or whipped cream, for serving*
* This recipe definitely needs something like crème fraîche or whipped cream. I made homemade crème fraîche, which couldn’t be simpler or more fun: Place 2 cups heavy cream in bowl. Add 2 tablespoons of yogurt or 2 tablespoons of buttermilk. Stir to combine. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let sit at room temperature for 12 to 24 hours. Stir. Mixture will be nice and thick. Store in the fridge until ready to use.
1. To make the pastry: in the bowl of a food processor, combine the butter, flour and salt. Pulse until the mixture resembles very fine bread crumbs. Add the confectioners’ sugar, egg yolk and 2 tablespoons chilled water, and pulse a few times to bring the mixture together. Pour onto a work surface and knead the dough sparingly until smooth, being careful not to overwork it. Flatten into a disk, wrap in plastic and chill for at least 30 minutes or up to 24 hours.
2. To make the frangipane: In a food processor, grind the almonds to a fine powder. Transfer to a bowl. In the food processor, combine 1 cup brown sugar, butter, and vanilla pulp. Process until light and fluffy, then with motor running add the flour and the eggs. Add the ground almonds and pulse to mix evenly. Set aside at room temperature or refrigerate for up to 24 hours. Bring to room temperature and stir before using.
3. To assemble: Lightly flour a cool work surface and roll the pastry into a large disk about 1/4-inch thick. Press into a 9-inch tart pan with a removable base and trim the edge. Chill at least 1 hour.
4. Heat oven to 325 degrees with a large baking sheet on the middle rack. Spread frangipane in the chilled tart pan, and nestle the apricot halves evenly on top, cut sides up. Sprinkle each half with about 1/2 teaspoon brown sugar. Place the tart on the baking sheet and bake until golden, and set, about 1 hour and 15 minutes. If the top appears to be browning too fast, cover loosely with foil.
5. Trim any baked overflow to loosen the edge of the tart. Press up the bottom of the pan to loosen the sides and cool the tart in the pan on a wire rack. When completely cool, serve with crème fraîche or whipped cream.
Yield: One 9-inch tart (8 servings).
I think I’m the last person on the planet to make zucchini fritters. Why it has taken me so long to give them a go I do not know. Maybe it’s that I have a general pancake-making phobia? Or that the amount of zucchini-fritter recipes I have collected over the years in addition to the blog posts I have bookmarked and the cookbook pages I have dog-eared is a wee overwhelming?
In any case, I got over it earlier this week, spurred by a revelation that helped me breeze through my zucchini-fritter recipe collection and locate a few promising recipes. My revelation, you ask? I realized I wasn’t interested in making a pancake — I wasn’t looking to make a floury, bread-crumb bound, cheese-laden pancake. I wanted something resembling a latke but composed of zucchini, which would be crisped quickly in a pan and served with something cool like sour cream or tzatziki.
The recipe here fits that description. A combination of grated zucchini and potato with a little diced onion bound by a single egg gives these fritters that lovely latke texture. But the addition of lemon zest and lots of herbs give them a freshness and lightness that’s irresistible. I served this batch with tzatziki, which accompanied them well, but which truthfully is unnecessary — they’re so good on their own. Give them a whirl! I know you’ll like them.
Batter made with zucchini from our Olin-Fox Farm CSA:
Zucchini Fritters with Tzatziki
Serves 2, Yield=6
2 cups coarsely grated zucchini
1/2 cup coarsely grated potato
pinch of flour
1 tablespoon chopped chives (or whatever herb you like)
1 tablespoon chopped mint (or whatever herb you like)
zest of one lemon
1/4 cup diced white onion
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 cup Greek yogurt
2 T. finely diced red onion
1 T. chopped mint
squeeze of lemon juice
1. Place the grated zucchini and potato in a colander. Spread the veggies out to allow for maximum surface area exposure and sprinkle all over with kosher salt. Let sit for at least 30 minutes to drain.
2. Meanwhile, make the tzatziki, if desired: Stir together yogurt, onion, mint, salt and lemon juice. Taste. Add more salt if necessary. Chill until ready to use.
3. After the 30 minutes, squeeze veggies out and wrap in paper towels. Squeeze again. [Note: The veggies will not drain out enough liquid on their own in the collander, so squeezing them with a paper towel is a critical step to mopping up that moisture.] Open up the paper towel and spread out your veggies. Sprinkle with a pinch of flour to soak up leftover moisture.
4. In a bowl, whisk together egg, herbs and lemon zest. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add onion and grated zucchini-potato mixture. Stir well.
5. Preheat over to 200˚F. Place a foil-lined cookie sheet in the oven. Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter. When foam subsides, drop a spoonful of your fritter batter in. Gently pat with a spatula to flatten out the fritters, which will help make them crispy.
6. Cook about 3 fritters at a time until golden brown on each side. Place fritters in the oven while you make additional pancakes. Serve as soon as possible with tzatziki on the side.
I swear buttermilk is magic. I’ve dwelled on this before. Buttermilk seems to turn everything to gold. Super-moist, super-delicious gold.
Anyway, I needed a simple, summery, breakfasty, cake-like-but-not-dessert-like recipe to make this morning. One of Ben’s friends had crashed here last night, and I thought it only appropriate to treat him to a proper breakfast. In other words, I was craving sugar and carbs. The truth is I’ve been craving sugar and carbs and a cake like this for months. But seriously, who doesn’t crave having a good, seasonal, berry cake recipe in their morning-treat repertoire?
Nobody. And I think I’ve found the recipe that fits the bill. On an old photocopied sheet of paper in my mother’s hand writing, I spotted a note: “Baby Boy’s Favorite.” Oh Baby Boy. Baby Boy is my younger brother, my parents’ favorite child, and one of the most satisfying people to cook for. If it was Baby Boy’s favorite cake, it would soon be mine, too. This cake is delectable! I think you’ll like it, too.
Buttermilk-Blueberry Breakfast Cake
½ cup unsalted butter, room temperature
2 tsp. lemon zest or more — zest from 1 large lemon
7/8 cup* + 1 tablespoon sugar**
1 egg, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla
2 cups flour (set aside 1/4 cup of this to toss with the blueberries)
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. kosher salt
2 cups fresh blueberries
½ cup buttermilk***
* 7/8 cup = 3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons
** This 1 tablespoon is for sprinkling on top
*** To make homemade buttermilk, place 1 tablespoon of vinegar or lemon juice in a liquid measuring cup. Fill cup with milk until it reaches the 1-cup line. Let stand for five minutes. Use only 1/2 cup of the prepared mixture for the recipe.
1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Cream butter with lemon zest and 7/8 cup of the sugar until light and fluffy.
2. Add the egg and vanilla and beat until combined. Meanwhile, toss the blueberries with ¼ cup of flour, then whisk together the remaining flour, baking powder and salt.
3. Add the flour mixture to the batter a little at a time, alternating with the buttermilk. Fold in the blueberries.
4. Grease a 9-inch square baking pan (or something similar) with butter or coat with non-stick spray. Spread batter into pan. Sprinkle batter with remaining tablespoon of sugar. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes. Check with a toothpick for doneness. If necessary, return pan to oven for a couple of more minutes. (Note: Baking for as long as 10 minutes more might be necessary.) Let cool at least 15 minutes before serving.
Ben’s friend Aaron is a very good cook, a master of tacos, chicken parmesan and steak frites, in fact. Unfortunately for all of us, he’s a little possessive over his recipes. And he’s a tease, too. Often he’ll email me beautifully composed photos of his culinary creations, always threatening, however, that if I dare use his content without permission, legal action might be pursued.
So I’ve learned not to ask. Sort of learned. There was just one recipe I had to have.
On a humid Minnesota evening last summer, Aaron served a tangy, creamy blue cheese dressing over a crisp romaine salad aside grilled steaks, warm bread, Ore-Ida french fries, and corn on the cob. It was a memorable meal. Every bite. The blue cheese dressing, however, left an indelible imprint.
Sure, I could have scoured the blogosphere or checked out some of my favorite cookbooks for any old blue cheese dressing recipe, but that’s exactly what I feared — making any old blue cheese dressing. It would never match up. There was something special about Aaron’s recipe, and I made it my mission to find out.
After a wee bit of pleading and a year of subtle hinting, I learned that Aaron’s recipe is loosely based off Sally Schneider’s Roquefort Blue Cheese Dressing in her cookbook A New Way to Cook.
Aha. Sally Schneider. I should have known. Schneider is never without a trick or two up her sleeve. Her arsenal of reliable recipes has made her one of my favorite cookbook authors as well.
This recipe is surprisingly light — made with buttermilk and reduced-fat sour cream — as far as creamy dressings go, and the addition of sherry vinegar gives it the perfect bite. I served it just as Aaron did, over a simple romaine salad with a few halved cherry tomatoes, but I imagine this dressing would be a lovely accompaniment to the usual suspects: buffalo wings, celery sticks, pizza, etc.
Blue Cheese Dressing
Adapted from Sally Schneider’s A New Way To Cook
Yield=1 1/2 cups
4 oz. blue cheese, such as Roquefort, Maytag Blue, Saga Blue — whatever you like
2/3 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup sour cream
1 1/2 tsp. sherry vinegar
1 tsp. olive oil or walnut oil (Schneider recommends)
freshly ground black pepper
1. Combine all ingredients in a blender. Blend until smooth. Taste. Add more pepper if desired.
This is the recipe that broke the streak. A two-month-long, five-meal-rotation streak consisting of burgers, meatloaf, roast chicken, burgers and quiche. It was time. It was time to put some effort into dinner; to try something new; to open up a can of anchovies; to crack a jar of capers; to pour some brown butter over fresh bread crumbs. Yes, brown-butter bread crumbs. They are so good.
Let me tell you, my efforts paid off. I’m all about simple recipes these days, and when I have fresh ingredients on hand, simple can be best. But this recipe reminded me of ones I used to attempt all the time, ones with so many layers of flavors and textures, ones that leave eaters guessing, “what is that?” after every bite.
And don’t let me scare you: There’s nothing complicated about making this dish. It’s just that for me these days, anything that requires more than forming burger patties and tossing a salad seems like a chore. I took a few shortcuts, too, opting to make the salsa verde in one step in the food processor, which saved a wee bit of time, but I encourage you to read through the original recipe first on Food 52. It’s a fabulous site!
If you’re in need of a nice, summery, vegetarian dish to add to the mix, this is the one. It’s light — no cream in this gratin — and the vegetables remain firm even after 40 minutes of cooking. I served it as an entrée with a simple salad and some fresh bread, but it would make a wonderful side dish as well.
For all of you fathers out there, have a wonderful Father’s Day weekend! And to the four father’s in my life, I love you very much.
Summer Squash from our Olin-Fox Farm CSA:
Kitchen assistant sneaking a bite:
Kitchen assistant caught in the act:
Summer Squash Gratin with Salsa Verde and Gruyère
Source: Food 52 via Suzanne Goin
Serves 4 as an entrée
1 teaspoon fresh marjoram or oregano leaves (1/2 teaspoon dried)
1/4 cup coarsely chopped mint
1 cup coarsely chopped flat-leaf parsley
3/4 cups extra-virgin olive oil
1 small clove garlic
1 tablespoon capers, drained (rinsed if salt-packed)
1/2 lemon, for juicing
Freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds summer squash
1 1/2 cup fresh breadcrumbs
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cups sliced shallot
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon thyme leaves
1 New Mexico chile or jalapeno, seeded and finely chopped
1 cup grated Gruyere cheese
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. Make the salsa verde. Using a mortar and pestle (or a food processor), pound the herbs to a paste. You may have to do this in batches. Work in some of the olive oil, and transfer the mixture to a bowl. Pound the garlic and anchovy, and add them to the herbs. Gently pound the capers until they’re partially crushed, and add them to the herbs. Stir in the remaining oil, a pinch of black pepper, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Taste for balance and seasoning. (Note: I basically made this in one step in the food processor — I pulsed everything with the exception of the capers together, then stirred the capers in at the end.)
3. Make the gratin. Heat the oven to 400 degrees. Cut the squash into 1/8-inch-thick slices. (A mandolin makes this a quick task.) Toss the slices in a large bowl with 1 teaspoon kosher salt, and let sit 10 minutes.
4. Place the breadcrumbs in a bowl. Heat a small saute pan over medium heat for 1 minutes. Swirl in the butter and cook for a few minutes, until it browns and smells nutty. Pour the brown butter over the breadcrumbs (being sure to scrape all the brown bits into the bowl with a rubber spatula). Wait a minute or so for the butter to cool, and toss well.
5. Drain the squash and transfer it to a large mixing bowl. Add the shallots, minced garlic, thyme, chile, 1/2 cup salsa verde, and some pepper. Toss to combine, and add the cheese and half the butter-coated breadcrumbs. Toss again, and taste for seasoning. (The raw garlic will taste strong at this point but will be delicious when cooked.)
6. Place the squash in a pretty 9-by-9-inch (or equivalent oblong-shaped) gratin dish. Scatter the remaining breadcrumbs over the top, and bake 35 to 40 minutes, until the squash is tender and the top is crisp.
Have you ever roasted a whole head of garlic? And then squeezed the sweet, soft cloves over warm French bread? And then sprinkled the spread with a bit of sea salt? It is so delectable.
Never did I imagine eating a head of garlic in one sitting. Nor did I imagine serving a head of garlic to each guest at a dinner party. It sounds ferocious. But roasting garlic whole in foil pouches with a few fresh herbs tames its bite, mellowing and sweetening its flavor, transforming it into a butter-like purée almost as tasty as salted bone barrow… yum yum yum.
Before I go any further, I have to share with you a beautiful blog, The Garden of Eden, recently launched by my friend Darcy Eden. It’s fresh and fun and filled with yummy recipes, fashionable finds and overall fantastic style. One of her posts was already picked up by Bon Appetit. Take a look — I know you’ll have fun with it!
Whole roasted garlic is a wonderful topping for warm bread but there are other uses as well: puréed and stirred into mashed potatoes; spread onto pizza; whisked into salad dressing.
Whole Roasted Garlic
Yield = How ever many heads you would like
Note: I make one foil pouch per head of garlic, but you probably could throw a couple of heads together in one pouch and have fine results.
1 head garlic
few sprigs of thyme (I used oregano here because I had no thyme on hand, but thyme is preferable)
1. Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Cut off the very top portion of the head of garlic to reveal a few cloves. Place garlic on a sheet of aluminum foil (large enough to wrap around the garlic in a little pouch). Nestle the herbs around the garlic. Drizzle garlic with a touch of olive oil. Sprinkle with a pinch of salt. Pour 2 T. of water around the head of garlic — you might want to curl up the sides of foil before doing so. Wrap the foil up into a beggar’s purse or pouch making sure the foil is sealed.
2. Place in the oven (directly on the rack or on a baking sheet) and roast for 1 hour. Remove pouches from oven and let cool briefly or tuck right in, taking care while opening the packages as steam might come pouring out.
3. Spread the garlic on warm bread; top with a pinch of salt.
I love a good scone. More than a muffin these days. Even a really good muffin, like this one, which I made last weekend. Such a good recipe. If you haven’t tried that one yet, add it to your to-make list.
Back to the scones. You might recall my obsession with Tartine? Its quiche, bread pudding and croque monsieur in particular. Oh its croque monsieur! Why is there no recipe for it in either of my Tartine cookbooks? Hmm, perhaps it’s best that I don’t know how to make that one anyway.
OK really, back to the scones. Buttery. Flaky. Crispy on top. Not too sweet. Lemony. Blueberry-y. Delicious. When you live hundreds of miles from Tartine, this recipe’s a good one to know.
Blueberry Buttermilk Scones
Adapted from Tartine
- Tartine’s recipe calls for Zante currants, which should be plumped in warm water for 10 minutes, then drained.
- I usually make a half recipe — 12 scones is a lot, and the dough gets unwieldy. If you can handle it, however, by all means go for it. I have frozen the raw scone dough, too, and baked the scones after thawing the dough overnight in the fridge. Worked beautifully.
4 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 T. baking powder
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp. lemon zest, grated
1 cup + 1 T. unsalted butter, very cold
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
2 cups blueberries
3 T. butter
sugar for sprinkling such as demerara or turbinado (regular granulated is fine, too)
1. Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Whisk together flour, baking powder and baking soda. Add sugar, salt and lemon zest and stir to combine. Cut the butter into 1/2-inch cubes and scatter the cubes over the dry ingredients. Use a pastry blender or the back of a fork to cut the butter into the dry ingredients. When you are finished, the butter should be dispersed throughout the flour in pea-sized lumps (or bigger… mine always are).
3. Add the buttermilk all at once along with the blueberries and mix gently with a wooden spoon until the dough holds together. If the mixture seems dry, add a little bit more buttermilk.
4. Dust your work surface with flour and turn the dough out onto it. If you’ve made the whole recipe, divide the dough into two even portions. Using your hands, pat each portion into a circular disk about 1 1/2 inches thick. (Or, if you’ve made the whole recipe and want to follow Tartine’s instructions, pat the dough into a rectangle about 18 inches long, 5 inches wide, and 1 1/2 inches thick). Brush the top with melted butter. Sprinkle with sugar. Cut each disk into 6 wedges (or 12 if you’ve made the rectangle).
5. Transfer the triangles to baking sheet. Bake until the tops of the scones are lightly browned, about 25 to 35 minutes. Remove from the oven and serve immediately.
They’re sort of one of those things you have to try to believe. When a friend proclaimed she and her husband (who has been known to drive 40 minutes for his favorite burger) preferred kale chips to potato chips and even to french fries, I had my doubts. It was about time I tried for myself, however. I’ve only been reading about these crisps on the blogosphere for about 3 years.
Well, what can I say? If you think you can’t eat a head of kale in one sitting, think again. You can, and you will. In fact you might find that one head is not enough for one sitting. And you might find that 8 heads of kale from the farmers’ market won’t suffice for the week. And you might find yourself panicking mid-week, making stops to your not-so-favorite market to preemptively restock your supply. I mean it. These kale chips are that good. It would make me so happy if you tried for yourself.
Crispy Kale Chips
Serves 1 to 2
1 bunch kale*
extra-virgin olive oil
*Of course bunches vary in size, but this recipe is not precise anyway. Also, there are many varieties of kale. I’ve made this recipe with at least 3 different varieties, and they all are delicious.
1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Tear kale into smallish-sized pieces as pictured above. Toss lightly with olive oil and kosher salt. Spread evenly on a sheet tray. Don’t be afraid to fill it up — it shrinks way down while it bakes (see picture below.)
2. Place sheet tray in the oven for about 15 minutes. Reach inside being careful not to burn yourself and feel the kale pieces. They should feel slightly crispy. If the pieces are not crispy at all, keep cooking for another couple of minutes.
3. Remove sheet tray from the oven and place on cooling rack for a minute or two. Eat! Once you make this recipe once or twice, you’ll discover how long it takes for a batch to cook. Some pieces will always be overcooked; some will be undercooked; but most will be delicious! Enjoy.
I think I found a magic sauce. It transformed my chicken-breast eating experience and now my rack-of-lamb-eating experience. Never would I have guessed that a simple stir of mayonnaise, mustard and some fresh herbs would play such a role in my meat-cooking endeavors these days. Seriously, everything this sauce touches turns to mouth-watering goodness.
Let’s see, how else can I sell this recipe to you? It takes five minutes to prepare. It’s foolproof. And if you enjoy gnawing on bones as if they were lollipops, this recipe is for you. Make it.
Rack of Lamb
This rack of lamb goes beautifully with crispy fingerling potatoes.
1 rack of lamb, about a pound
fresh cracked pepper
2 T. mayonnaise
2 tsp. mustard
chopped fresh herbs*: rosemary, thyme, chives, mint, tarragon — whatever you have
*Rosemary and lamb always go well together but I adore tarragon with this recipe as well.
1. Preheat the oven to 475ºF. Place lamb on a parchment-lined (for easy clean-up) rimmed baking sheet. Season with salt and pepper on all sides. Mix together mayo, mustard and herbs. Spread in an even layer across the rack of lamb — you might not need it all.
2. Place pan in the oven. Bake for 10 minutes, reduce heat to 400º and bake for 10 more minutes. Take pan out of the oven and place lamb on a board to rest. Let rest for at least 10 minutes. Seriously, no less than 10 minutes — I can’t emphasize resting enough. Cut and serve.
Notes: The lamb takes about 20 minutes to cook but depending on the size of the rack, the temperature of the lamb (room temperature or cold), and the reliability of your oven, the time will vary slightly. It might take a teensy bit of practice to nail it. For example, I made a rack today that weighed .92 lbs, and I removed it before the 20-minute mark because after 18 minutes it felt perfectly firm.
My baby bro is really funny. Last month when he came to visit, I fixed him some breakfast, a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and sliced banana, my favorite way to start the morning. I took a risk making him oatmeal — I knew that. I mean, it’s hard to compete with my mother who whips up plates of fried egg sandwiches on toasted homemade bread, slides them under her favorite child’s nose just minutes after he lounges into the kitchen mid-morning, not uttering a word but like some sort of magical magnet drawing cups of freshly brewed coffee and hot breakfast his way.
Oatmeal was a risk for sure. Even so, I expected a bit of a better reception. He took two bites, dipped his spoon in for a third, pushed it around a little bit, then scrunched up his face while nudging the bowl my direction and asked, “Will you eat it for me?” My baby bro is 25. I love him so much.
Well, like my mother, I feel this need to feed people — to make them happy with food — and when things don’t work out as planned, I feel disappointed. I felt a little depressed about the oatmeal. Next time he comes, I’m going to make him these muffins, my latest fix. I discovered this recipe in the November Bon Appetit’s RSVP section. They are delicious. After I made a batch of the batter, I baked off one a day in a paper-lined ramekin for about a week straight. What a treat!
I also made a teensy discovery. I didn’t have enough rolled oats for the recipe, so I substituted in steel cut oats for about half of the total. To my surprise, the steel cut oats added a nice crunch and reminded me of a favorite muffin I hadn’t thought about in years. Metropolitan Bakery in Philadelphia makes the most incredible millet muffins, and when I lived there, it was hard to pass by its doors without stopping in for one. I think I know which cookbook I need to add to my wishlist. A millet muffin sounds so good right now. Santa, I hope you’re reading.
Nonstick vegetable oil spray (or paper muffin liners, I like these)
2 1/3 cups quick-cooking cups (I have had success with all varieties of oats including using as much as a cup of steel cut oats)
1 cup whole wheat or white flour
1/2 cup (packed) dark brown sugar
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons natural oat bran (if you have it)
2 tablespoons wheat germ (if you have it)
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup canola oil
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup boiling water
Note: I made a batch of the muffin batter and baked off a muffin a day in a paper-lined ramekin. The batter tasted as good on day 8 as it did on day 1. It’s nice to know you can do this with muffin batter.
1. Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray 8 large muffin cups (1-cup capacity) or 18 standard muffin cups (1/3-cup capacity) with nonstick spray, or line them with paper muffin liners. (Note: I baked off these muffins in paper-lined ramekins. It worked beautifully.) Whisk oats and next 9 ingredients in large bowl. Add buttermilk, oil, egg, and vanilla; whisk to blend. Stir in 1/3 cup boiling water and let stand 5 minutes. Divide batter among prepared muffin cups.
2. Bake muffins until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 28 minutes for large muffins and 20 minutes for standard muffins. Cool 10 minutes. Turn muffins out onto rack; cool. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Baby bro with baby doll. She adores her uncle. It’s so cute.