It seems I have a habit of making an end-of-winter-soup every spring. We’re already eating fresh asparagus and rhubarb. The fruit trees are blooming and the sun is shining (we won’t mention the mosquitoes that are plaguing us fiercely this year!) and the grass is green.

But we’re eating roasted root vegetable soup.

A few days ago I looked at the sad and wrinkled winter vegetables lurking at the back of the crisper drawer in the fridge, and decided it was time for them to go. Last year’s version was rustic and hearty. This year’s version is a bit more elegant and refined. It’s smooth, creamy and rich – without a hint of cream or butter, and no connection to the dried and wrinkled parsnips, hairy carrots and mold-spotted red peppers that were transformed in the process. I wanted to lick the bowl – in a not so elegant and refined manner, but restrained myself to mopping it clean with a piece of bread.

The vegetables looked so sad, I forgot to take a ‘before’ picture of them. After a good trimming and washing, they weren’t quite so pathetic looking, and after a vigourous  roasting, they looked downright handsome. Roasting vegetables is magic – the sugars caramelize and the flavour becomes so much fuller and richer than if they are boiled or steamed. It is what makes the difference in this soup.

And once the veggies took a spin in the blender and got dressed up with a few more ingredients – the transformation was complete. They were company-ready.

I found enough ratty old vegetables to make a double batch of this soup, and that was lucky because it tasted even better the next day. If you don’t have the ratty old vegetables . . . go ahead and be classy – make it with crisp, plump fresh veggies. Your soup will lack the backstory, but you’ll be licking your lips anyway.

Kitchen Frau Note: The flavours of this soup get brightened up by a hit of sherry vinegar and maple syrup added at the end of cooking. If you don’t have sherry vinegar, substitute it with red or white wine vinegar, and if you don’t have maple syrup, use honey.

Roasted Root Vegetable Soup

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 lb (450gms) mixed, trimmed vegetables (1 or 2 parsnips, 3 or 4 carrots, 1 red, yellow or orange pepper)
• 1 onion
• 3 cloves garlic
• 4 cups (1 litre) chicken stock (I used Better Than Bouillon paste + water)
• pinch cayenne pepper
• salt to taste
• 1 teaspoon sherry vinegar
• 1 tablespoon pure maple syrup

to garnish:

• drizzle of your best olive oil or flavoured olive oil (I had mushroom and sage olive oil – truffle oil would be good, too)
• grinding of fresh black pepper

Preheat oven to 400°F.

After peeling and trimming the vegetables, cut them into bite-sized chunks (carrots about 1 inch/2cm). Peel the onion and cut it into large chunks. Peel the garlic cloves and toss them with the onion and vegetables in a large roasting pan with the olive oil.

Roast the vegetables in the preheated oven for 45 to 60 minutes, stirring halfway through, until the carrots are soft when pricked with a fork, and the edges of some of the vegetables are starting to turn dark brown and crisp.

Tip the vegetables into the blender and use a rubber spatula to scrape in all the flavourful roasted olive oil.

Add half the chicken stock and process until creamy and smooth. Add a bit more chicken stock if the mixture is too thick to blend well. Blend it in batches if your blender is small. Pour the puree into a saucepan and add the rest of the chicken stock. (You can use the remaining chicken stock to swish out the blender before you add it to the pot.)

*Alternately, you can just tip the vegetables and roasting oil into a sauce pan, add the chicken stock and puree it all with an immersion blender.

Add the pinch of cayenne pepper and taste the soup. Add more salt if it needs it. Add the sherry vinegar and maple syrup, then heat the soup just til it comes to a boil.

Ladle into bowls and add a swirl of the good olive oil and a grinding of pepper to each bowl.

Makes about 5½ cups (1.3l) serving 4

Guten Appetit!

You might also like:

Homemade Chicken or Turkey Soup (and How to make Stock)

Baked Potato Soup

Gingered Pumpkin Soup with Crunchy Creamy Toppings

End-of-Winter Root Vegetable Soup

Seedy Savory Croutons

Just sayin’ . . .

I don’t mean to be bossy, but if you don’t have a lovage plant in your yard yet . . . what’s stopping you?

This hardy herb grows just about anywhere, and I actually recommend that you plant it in a tough spot, because if it gets the herb-lovin’ treatment (like good soil, plenty of sunshine and regular water) you’ll have a monster on your hands. And with lovage – a little goes a long way.

But the flavour of lovage is so wonderful . . . think of celery combined with parsley – on steroids, but with a richer, more savoury kick. You’ll want some in your garden. A few leaves in a soup, or stock, or stew add a complex intensity to the whole dish. Chop a few leaves and add them to chicken salad for a Scandinavian twist. Use a large handful of the stalks with leaves as a savoury bed for a roast chicken or beef roast to perfume the whole thing with a subtle flavour. Or stuff a salmon with it for a wonderfully moist and tasty meal. Finely chop a few leaves into an egg salad, or into scrambled eggs, or into a green salad. Or make a heavenly soufflé – recipe featured at the end of this post.

Lovage is a well-known and much used herb in European cooking, but I find that very few people in North America know what it is or how to use it. In German it is called Liebstöckel (little love stick) or Maggikraut (Maggi herb – because it tastes similar to the Maggi brand seasoning which my mom always used to season soups). It grows easily anywhere and is a perennial that will thrive for years in the same spot without any care. Its lovely leafy greenness would even look good in a flower bed – just plant it in the back because in good growing conditions, it will grow up to 2 metres (6′) high. Every year, by about July, Andreas loves to use the machete to hack our plant back down to size. After that it still grows to about 1 metre high again, by the end of the summer – and we live in a zone 3 climate, here in the Edmonton area of northern Alberta, Canada.

this was my lovage a week ago

My lovage plant has been in the same spot for years, and has only grown a little wider each year. It has a tough woody root, like a rhubarb plant. My mom has a lovage plant growing at their cabin in northern B.C., right in the grass, and it survives the tough winters there. It only gets half as tall as mine, but provides plenty of leaves for cooking.

So I encourage you to find a spot to plunk a lovage plant into your yard and you will be rewarded with an easy-care herb to flavour meals for years to come. You can find lovage plants at good greenhouses in the spring, or beg a piece off a friend that has one. If you’re patient you could start your own from seeds, but since you’ll really only need one plant, it’s easier to buy or beg it. I dry the leaves every fall – just lay them in a single layer on cookie sheets, then leave them in a warm place until dry – then crumble them into a jar. They do their job of adding flavour to cooked dishes all winter long.

I’ve been so thrilled to see my lovage plant shoot out of the earth this spring, I could hardly wait for it to get big enough to pinch off a few leaves to make our favourite lovage souffle. The rhubarb isn’t big enough to use yet, but my lovage is here! This is the first garden sign for me that summer is on its way.

this is my lovage today

I love, love, love my lovage plant.

One  spoonful of this soft, fluffy, melt-in-your-mouth soufflé, and you might love lovage, too.

Kitchen Frau Notes: The flavour of lovage if very intense, though it does mellow with cooking, so always start with a small amount and add more as you taste it.

Use aged sharp cheddar if you can, but even medium cheddar will be good. Do try to get the natural kind though, not the artificially orange-coloured cheese. If you use a really mild cheese, you may need to add a pinch of salt. If you use an aged or sharp cheddar, you won’t need salt, as the cheese is quite salty, and lovage seems to naturally bring out the saltiness in food.

Don’t be intimidated by the fact this recipe is a soufflé. It really is very foolproof, and I’ve often doubled the recipe and made it in a 9×13 inch pan and it still turns out great. Every last bit gets eaten up. Like all soufflés it is best eaten as soon as it comes out of the oven, but really, it still tastes great even when it’s fallen slightly.

Wingin’ It: And if you don’t have a lovage plant yet, you can make this soufflé with a mixture of other herbs you might have around (even chopped green onions would work, but you wouldn’t have that lovely lovage flavour – you’d have a very tasty cheese soufflé – add ¼ teaspoon salt, too.)

Lovage Cheese Soufflé

adapted slightly from Summer Delights, Growing and Cooking Fresh Herbs, by Noël Richardson

• 3 tablespoons butter
• 4 tablespoons sweet rice flour or 3 tablepoons all purpose flour
• 1 cup (240ml) milk
• ¼ teaspoon dry mustard
• ¼ teaspoon hot pepper sauce or 1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
• 4 tablespoons (¼ cup) finely chopped fresh lovage leaves
• 1 cup (110gms) grated aged, sharp cheddar cheese
• 5 large eggs, separated

Preheat the oven to 375° F. Butter a 1½ quart soufflé dish or casserole dish.

Over medium heat, melt the butter in a large, heavy bottomed saucepan. Stir in the flour and whisk until it is fully incorporated into the butter and bubbling slightly. Pour in the milk, about 1/4 of it at a time, whisking well after each addition until it is smooth. Stir in the dry mustard, hot pepper sauce or cayenne pepper, and the chopped lovage. Cook for 2 or 3 more minutes, whisking constantly. Add the shredded cheese and whisk until smooth. Remove from heat and add the 5 egg yolks. Whisk well and set aside.

Beat the 5 egg whites until stiff. Add about 1/4 of the beaten whites to the sauce and stir them in lightly. Gently fold in the rest of the beaten whites until there are no lumps of egg white larger than a pea remaining. Don’t overmix it – you want to keep it light and fluffy.

Pour the mixture into the buttered soufflé dish and bake for 35 minutes, without opening the oven door.

Serve immediately, spooning out portions with a large serving spoon.

Serves 4.

Mighty good with a salad as a light lunch, or as a side dish for dinner.

Guten Appetit!

You might want to serve it with:

Quinoa Crunch Salad

Chili-Lime Jicama Salad

German Potato Salad

Purple Salad

Fennel and Beet Salad

My universe has shifted again.

I’ve lost someone I loved. How do you deal with that? How do you go on? How do you keep finding the joy and seeing the beauty around you?

It’s really hard. There is no easy way, no shortcut. You just need to plow through the pain, and hug yourself a little closer, and try to patch the new hole that is now a part of you.

Spring is popping up all around – hard to believe that one week ago we were braving a late blizzard, and now suddenly flowers and greenery are unfolding before our eyes as the temperature soars.

. . . signs of spring that are bittersweet when hearts are aching.

My dear friend Erin is gone now – she was a part of my life for over 35 years and we shared so many huge and small moments, laughs and tears, and memories. And in trying to deal with her loss, I turned back to the kitchen, to the mundane little tasks that still needed to be done. And I looked through my grease-stained and spattered old handwritten cookbook – the one where I write out all those priceless recipes that I’ve collected over the years, the one that chronicles the favourites passed to me from friends and family in each of the places we’ve lived. Most recipes have a name attached: Mom’s Rhubarb Cake, Mabel’s Lefse, Judy’s Homemade Chocolates, Wendy’s Bacon Appetizers, Linda’s Roast, or Elsa’s Barley Pilaf.

Many recipes have Erin’s name attached: Erin’s Zucchini Pickles, Erin’s Tacos, Erin’s Corn Pie, Erin’s Macaroni & Cheese, Erin’s Cornmeal Chili Cups, Erin’s Porcupines, Erin’s Lemonade. Those recipes have become so much more precious to me now – a legacy from her that lives on, in my kitchen.

There are so many ways I will remember her, and I am glad that one of them can be when I am comforted and nourished, sharing a favourite meal of hers with my loved ones around a table.

So, yesterday, as I was trying to deal with the ache, I made Erin’s Corn Pie; a dish I’ve made many times for my family. It is a comforting and flavorful casserole, with a zesty ground beef filling and a dense cornmeal-almost-pudding top crust, all wrapped in a cheesy mantle. It’s a family favourite. Now, it will have even more meaning.

It tasted like love in our bellies.

Kitchen Frau Notes: The recipe calls for canned corn, but you can easily substitute fresh kernels cut from the cob, or frozen kernels.

I have used both the canned variety of pitted black olives or kalamata olives, which I pit by cutting each olive in half lengthwise around the seed, giving the halves a twist (like cutting an avocado) and digging the seed out. Both kinds of olives are good, but the kalamata olives are much more flavourful, giving little jolts of brightness when you bite into them. However, if you are not an olive-loving family, they can be left out altogether.

Erin’s Corn Pie

• 1 lb (450gms) lean ground beef
• 1 small onion, chopped
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 14-oz can (400ml) diced or whole tomatoes with their liquid
• 1 14-oz can (400ml) corn, drained, or 1½ cups (360ml) frozen or fresh corn kernels
• 20 to 24 pitted ripe olives
• 2 – 3 teaspoons chili powder (I use 3)
• ½ teaspoon fine sea salt

• 2 eggs
• 1 cup (170gms) cornmeal
• 1 cup (240ml) milk
• 1 cup shredded cheese (any kind, but I like Cheddar or Havarti)

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

In a skillet over medium heat, brown the ground beef, breaking up any chunks with a wooden spoon. Add  the chopped onion and minced garlic, cooking and stirring for 2 minutes.

Stir in the tomatoes (breaking them up if using the whole tomatoes), corn, olives, chili powder and salt. Bring the mixture to a boil. Then tip it into an ungreased 9″x9″ (23x23cm) baking dish or a 2 quart/litre casserole dish. There will be quite a bit of liquid in the bottom of the dish, but it will all be absorbed as the casserole cooks.

In a medium sized bowl, beat the eggs well with a whisk. Stir in the cornmeal and milk. Pour this mixture, as evenly as you can, over the meat mixture in the dish. Sprinkle with the grated cheese.

Bake, uncovered, for 40 to 50 minutes, until the cheese is bubbling and golden.

Scoop out portions with a large spoon. Serves 6.

Lovely with a fresh green salad to go with it, and maybe some squash chunks roasted in the oven alongside the corn pie.

 Guten Appetit!

You might also like:

Healing Hands

Eggplant, Kale and Cannellini Bean Ratatouille with Poached Eggs

Garbanzo Goulash Pot Pies

Butter Chicken with Scented Basmati Rice

Bacon and eggs?

Breakfast for supper?

Yes, please!

Who says no to that?

Toss together tender and flavourful baby spinach leaves with a handful of crunchy sunflower seeds, some crisp bacon slices, perfectly boiled fresh eggs and a robust, grainy mustard-miso dressing and you have a flavour explosion in your mouth – of the good kind. Miso paste adds a salty umami richness to this vinaigrette dressing that stands up well to the parade of hearty ingredients.

This salad makes a lovely light lunch, or a complete meal if you serve it with a slice of whole-grain bread, or maybe even a cheesie Irish Toastie on the side.

Set the eggs to boil and fry up the bacon slices while you prepare the dressing, and you can have this on the table in 15 minutes – especially if you cheat with the wonderful convenience of a package of pre-washed baby spinach to save you time and give you nice dry spinach leaves to start with. The following method for hard-boiling eggs will deliver perfectly boiled eggs each time.

I love the cheery retro look of this salad.

Bacon, Egg and Spinach Salad with Mustard Miso Vinaigrette

• 5 oz (142gm) package pre-washed baby spinach leaves
• ¼ cup (4 tablespoons) unsalted sunflower seeds
• 8 slices bacon, cut crosswise in half
• 4 large eggs
• 4 (or more) cherry tomatoes

for the mustard miso vinaigrette

• 3 tablespoons (45ml) olive oil
• 1 tablespoon whole grain mustard
• 1½ tablespoons miso paste
• 1½ tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 1 tablespoon water
• ½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Fry the bacon half-slices in a large skillet over medium heat until golden brown and crisp.

While the bacon is frying, set the eggs into a saucepan, cover with cold water by about ½ inch and bring to a boil over medium heat. Once they come to a full rolling boil, remove the saucepan from the burner, cover with a lid, and set the timer for 10 minutes. Don’t remove the lid during that time.

throw a few extra eggs in the pot for your lunch the next day

While the bacon is frying and the eggs are cooking, prepare the dressing. Measure all ingredients into a measuring cup or small bowl, and whisk vigourously until creamy smooth with no lumps.

When the bacon is crisp, remove it to paper towels to drain.

Tip the spinach leaves into a large bowl and sprinkle with the sunflower seeds.

When the 10 minutes is up for the eggs steeping in the hot water, drain the water and set the saucepan into the sink. Cover the eggs with cold water, leaving the water to run into the pot for a minute or two, until it stays cold. Remove the eggs from the water and crack them gently against a hard surface until the shells are cracked all over. Return them to the water and leave them there for a few minutes until they are cooled through, refreshing the water if it gets warmed by the eggs.

Peel the eggs, and quarter them lengthwise.

Drizzle the vinaigrette over the spinach and sunflower seeds, then toss it well to coat everything evenly.

Divide the spinach between 4 salad plates, arrange 4 bacon half-slices and 4 egg quarters on top of the greens, then garnish each with a cherry tomato or two.

Serve immediately with a hearty loaf of rustic bread or the Irish Cheese Toasties.

Serves 4

This recipe was prepared for Dole National Salad Day, which is May 1 (the first day of national salad MONTH). Gotta love that.

 Guten Appetit!

You might also like:

Quinoa Crunch Salad

Poppyseed, Pomegranate and Pear Salad

Simple Tuna Salad

Chili-Lime Jicama Salad

Apple Cider Vinaigrette

These salad rolls make me feel like spring – pretty coral salmon, bright crunchy greens and bursting-in-your-mouth flavours.

We had them last night for supper and I’m craving them again today. My brain gears are churning – hmmm, what about some shrimp today? or maybe a bit of fresh dill or basil? I know, I could cut some baby corn cobs into sticks . . . and I’ll use that avocado in the fruit bowl . . .

Once you get the hang of using rice wrappers, the world is your . . . salad roll. Seriously. You can wrap up anything crispy and fresh in these, and they suddenly look like you planned them that way (just don’t tell people it’s last night’s leftover salad you’ve repackaged). There is little-to-no cooking involved, and it looks like you fussed. Serve these rolls with a bowl of tasty soup and you have a light ‘Soup and Salad’ meal with a new twist.

Salad rolls are wonderful for entertaining because you can make them several hours ahead, too. The no-cook rice paper wrappers are like a natural plastic clingwrap to keep the salad ingredients sealed-in and fresh. How slick is that? Cut them just before serving.

And if there are any left over, they make a fantastic packed lunch the next day, sealed in a plastic container with a little vial of dipping sauce alongside.

Check the ‘Wingin’ it’ section at the bottom of the recipe for lots of suggestions to make these salad rolls super easy. If you pick up a package of the rice papers on your way home from work, you probably have the fixin’s in your fridge and pantry to make these!

Kitchen Frau Notes: The rice paper wrappers (sometimes called spring roll skins, but not to be confused with spring roll wrappers, which are made of wheat flour and need to be cooked) are found in large supermarkets in the Asian section or in smaller import stores. They keep a long time on your pantry shelves, so are a handy thing to have on hand for whipping up a quick snack, light meal or appetizer. They come in large or small sizes. The larger (8½in/22cm) size works better for these types of salad rolls.

Spinach and Salmon Salad Rolls

Makes 8 or more rolls, serving 4

For the salad rolls:

• 12 oz. (350gm) fresh salmon fillets
• 2 teaspoons olive oil
• salt and pepper
• 8-10 rice paper wrappers (8½in/22cm)
• 4 small handfuls baby spinach leaves
• a 5 inch (13cm) length of English (thin-skinned) cucumber
• 2 carrots
• 3 to 4 green onions
• 8 sprigs fresh cilantro

For the drizzling sauce:

• ¼ cup mayonnaise
• 1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger root
• 1 small clove garlic (or half a big one)
• 1 teaspoon lime zest
• 1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

for the dipping sauce:

• ¼ cup (60ml) soy sauce (gluten-free if necessary)
• 2 teaspoons brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon sesame oil
• a squirt of sriracha sauce or other hot sauce

Heat the olive oil n a skillet over medium heat. Sprinkle the salmon pieces with salt and pepper on both sides, then pan-sear them until just cooked through, about 2 or 3 minutes per side, but it will depend on the thickness. Remove from the heat to let cool.

Prepare the drizzling sauce by mixing all ingredients. Use a microplane grater to grate the ginger and garlic, and to zest the lime. If you don’t have one, finely mince these ingredients together or mash them in a mortar and pestle, then add them to the mayonnaise with the lime juice.

Prepare the dipping sauce by stirring all the ingredients together in a measuring cup, then dividing the mixture among 4 small dipping bowls.

Prepare the salad ingredients by cutting the cucumber piece in half, then cutting each piece into 2½ inch (6cm) sticks. Shred the carrot or cut it into fine julienne sticks. Cut the green onions into about 5 inch (13 cm) pieces, slicing the thicker white parts in half lengthwise.

Set out a flat dish (like a pie plate or skillet) and fill it with about a ½ inch (1.5cm) warm water. Set a flat plate at the front of your work surface.

Place one rice paper wrapper into the warm water for about 5 seconds, submerging it to make sure all surfaces are wet. Remove it to the plate, making sure it is laying flat, and leave it to soften for about 30 seconds.

The rice wraps look like they’d be delicate, but they are more forgiving than you think. As soon as the moistened wrap is pliable, lay down a small handful of spinach leaves in a strip, close to the end facing you. Lay the spinach so the leaves curl upward, making the wrap easier to roll. Dollop with about 2 teaspoons of the drizzling sauce.

Next, layer on a small handful of the cucumber sticks, a strip or two of green onion,

a handful of grated or julienned carrots, and a few chunks of the seared salmon.

Garnish the top with a couple sprigs of cilantro.

And roll up by starting at the edge nearest you and helping tuck in the salad with your fingers as you roll. As soon as you’ve rolled it around the filling once, fold over both side edges and keep rolling, tucking in the sides as you go. The wrap sticks to itself, holding the salad roll tight.

Don’t worry if they’re not perfect. You’ll get better with each one you make.

Slice them in half diagonally, and serve with the little bowls of dipping sauce.

Wingin’ it

Anything goes!

For the protein in these rolls, try thawed, frozen precooked shrimp. You can cut them in half lengthwise and lay them on the wrapper first so they show through, or tuck them in the middle. Or use leftover cooked chicken or roast beef cut in strips, or strips of extra-firm tofu, or wedges of hard-boiled eggs.  You could even use chunks of canned salmon, or leftover bits of other types of fish or leftover salmon from the night before.

For the veggies, you could use other greens – lettuce or arugula. Julienned sticks of celery, or shredded radishes, strips of sweet peppers, cooked beets, or avocado. Try canned baby corns cut into long strips, or canned water chestnut slices . . . maybe some finely shredded cabbage, or Napa cabbage. Snow peas or snap peas. Fresh bean sprouts, or finer types of sprouts would be divine. Use different herbs, like basil, parsley or dill.

You could even add a few strands of cooked rice noodles or spoonfuls of cooked rice or quinoa or other grain. Try adding a few chopped peanuts or other nuts or seeds, too.

For the drizzling sauce, substitute yogurt or Greek yogurt for some or all of the mayonnaise. Or just use bottled ranch dressing or other creamy dressing instead.

For the dipping sauce, use plain soy sauce, or soy sauce mixed with a blob of wasabi paste. Or use a bottled Thai sweet chili sauce or a bottled or homemade peanut sauce. Or any other sauce that tickles your fancy.

 Guten Appetit!

You might also like:

Fish Tacos

Steam-Baked Salmon with Lovage and Lime and Herb Tartar Sauce

Roasted Pepper Salad with Roasted Garlic Dressing

Purple Salad

Fennel and Beet Salad

It’s springtime on my kitchen table, but that white stuff in the background out the window has got to go!

These visitors to the yard are also wishing winter would leave . . .

Barbecue season is fast approaching, even though it’s snowing again as I write this.

Yes, you dear readers south of us are probably already basking in your shorts, sipping cocktails on the deck and manning the sizzling, smoking barbecue beast.

We, up here in the north, are dreaming of all that.

And while we dream, I’ve been getting ready. Steaks are in the freezer, summer shorts are out of storage, and wine is a-chillin’.

I am being hopeful.

Oh, yes – and the barbecue sauce is made. I am rarin’ to rush out of the starting gate.

If you’ve never made your own barbecue sauce, now is the time. Plop all the ingredients into a pot, and leave them to simmer together into a thick, tangy-sweet, smokey nectar of the barbecue gods. It’s that easy.

And you will know you are not feeding your family that high-fructose-corn-syrup-laden, cornstarch-thickened, artificially flavoured gloop from the grocery store shelves.

Plus you get bragging rights. How good will it sound when you serve your guests a nice juicy steak or burger and tell them it’s made with your own special, secret Red Wine Barbecue Sauce recipe!? Wow. You can flex your barbecue-flipping muscles and, if you are man, beat on your barbecue-king chest. (We females have much more decorum, and can just smile a mysterious barbecue-lisa smile, and say sweetly, Yes, I made it myself.)

This recipe makes up a big batch that will last you all summer (or at least the next few weeks), but is also easily halved if the amount scares you. Plus, you need to open a bottle of  nice full-bodied red wine to make it, so you know what that means – darn it, somebody’s got to drink up the rest of the bottle before it goes bad.

The alcohol in the wine all cooks off, so you can safely feed this barbecue sauce to children – they won’t even know it’s in there. (But you will know what gives this sauce its rich taste!) And if you have no wine in the house – apple juice makes a mighty fine substitute! You could use apple cider vinegar, in that case. And then you’d have to change the name to Triple Apple Barbecue Sauce – on account of the applesauce, apple juice and apple cider vinegar! Jeesh, it’s getting complicated now.

So here’s to barbecue season!

Kitchen Frau Notes: If you are halving this recipe, remember that 3 teaspoons equal one tablespoon, and 4 tablespoons equal ¼ cup.

If your smoked paprika doesn’t say whether it’s hot or mild, it’s probably mild. You can taste it to find out.

Red Wine Barbecue Sauce

• 2 – 5½oz (156ml) cans tomato paste
• 1 cup (240ml) unsweetened applesauce
• 1 cup (240ml) honey
• 1 cup (240ml) red wine vinegar
• 1 cup (240ml) full-bodied red wine
• ¼ cup (60ml) dark molasses (blackstrap or cooking molasses)
• 1 tablespoon smoked paprika (mild)
• 1 tablespoon dry mustard powder
• 2 tablespoons onion powder
• 2 teaspoons garlic powder
• 2 teaspoons fine sea salt
• ½ teaspoon ground allspice
• ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more to taste)

Mix all ingredients together in a large saucepan. Set over medium heat and bring to a simmer. Reduce heat to low, and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, for about 15 minutes or until thickened to your liking.

(After about 10 minutes of simmering you can taste it and if you think it needs more kick, add a bit more cayenne pepper. Then continue simmering for the remaining 5 minutes.)

Let cool, and pour into a bottle or jar with a tight fitting lid. I like to keep some in a squeeze bottle for ease of use. (I use an empty agave nectar bottle.)

Will keep for months in the refrigerator, and also freezes well.

Makes about 4½ cups (1 litre and a bit) – enough to fill one quart jar and a smaller jar.

That’s all there is to it!

Now if only the snow will go away.

 Guten Appetit!

 You might also like:

Herb-stuffed Pork Chops

‘Wine and Cheese’ Hamburgers to Celebrate Barbecue Season

Sauerkraut Potato Salad for Barbecue Season

Fresh Trout, Morels and a Side of Bannock

Fish Tacos

Sometimes you just need pie.

Growing up, we never had pie. I hardly knew what it was. Plummy streusel cakes and fruit strudels and nut strudels and buttercreamy torten – now those, I knew what they were. Poppy seed cakes, and luscious quark cheesecakes and dense honey cake – those, too.

But pie – it was something you saw in those revolving glass cases in diners (which we never ate in) and which you sometimes had at friends’ houses. It was something you watched people eat on television and which you sang about in songs – Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? But pie was not a part of the dessert offerings in our German household on the Canadian prairies when I was growing up.

It wasn’t until I met my husband and was introduced to the never-ending pie smorgasbord on offer in his home, that I really got to know what pie could be. Every weekend my mother-in-law would bake (and still does) every sort of luscious pie you could imagine – apple pie and pumpkin pie and lemon meringue pie and flapper pie and plum pie and pecan pie and lemon coconut pie and banana cream pie and of course cherry pie, just to mention a few. There are always at least six or seven varieties to choose from, in an ever-changing rotation. She is a master at making a most crisp and delicate crust – never measuring a thing. And her fillings are always luscious and full of mouthwatering flavour.

Therefore, my children have grown up definitely knowing what pie is. They have been well fed with pie at Granny and Grandpa’s house over the years. They still rarely get pie at home (because why make it when granny makes it so much better?), but every now and then I do feel an urge to bake a pie or two, especially when it’s been a while since our last visit to Granny’s kitchen (she lives too far away for a weekly pie fix).

When I have made pie, I’ve used the trusty pastry crust recipe in my old Fanny Farmer Cookbook – it’s pretty fail-safe. But in the last few years I’ve developed a gluten-free version that works just as well for me. It’s crispy and tender and a perfect foil for this lovely pear tart that made use of the bowls of juicy pears we’ve had ripening on our counter faster than we could eat them.

This is my version of pie – a kind of amalgamation of the lovely fruit Tortes  of my childhood and Granny’s luscious fruit pies.

Basic Pastry Formula (Pie Crust)

from inside the front cover of the Fanny Farmer Cookbook (1980)

• 1½ cups (215gms) flour (all-purpose)
• ¼ teaspoon salt
• ½ cup (1 dL) shortening
• 3-4 tablespoons cold water

Mix the flour and salt. Cut in the shortening with a pastry blender or two knives. Combine lightly only until the mixture resembles coarse meal or tiny peas. Sprinkle water over the flour mixture, a tablespoon at a time, and mix lightly with a fork, using only enough water so that the pastry will hold together when pressed gently into a ball.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out 2 inches larger than the pie pan, then fit it loosely but firmly into the pan. Crimp or flute the edges.

Gluten Free Pie Crust or Tart Pastry

from Kitchen Frau’s notebook

• ½ cup (70gms) sorghum flour
• ½ cup (80gms) sweet rice flour
• ½ cup (65gms) tapioca flour/starch
• ½ teaspoon salt
• ½ cup (115gms) very cold unsalted butter
• 1 large egg white (reserve yolk for filling)
• 3 tablespoons very cold water

Mix the flours and salt in a medium-sized bowl. Cut the cold butter into ½-inch (1cm) cubes and add to the flours. Cut in with a pastry cutter or two knives until the size of peas.

Add the egg white and water and stir with a fork until combined. With your fingertips, quickly and lightly (so as to melt the butter as little as possible) rub the butter and flour together. When you can take up and squeeze a handful of the dough and it keeps its shape, it is mixed well enough.

Press and form the dough into a ball. Flatten it into a disk and wrap it in plastic wrap. Chill the disk in the refrigerator for an hour, or up to 24 hours. If you chill it more than an hour, remove it from the refrigerator about ½ hour before you wish to use it, to make it more pliable to work with.

If making tarts, cut the dough into 6 wedges and roll each one into a ball, working it lightly with your fingers. It will crack, but you can press any cracks easily back together. On a floured surface (use sorghum or sweet rice flour), roll the dough out about an inch larger than the tart shells. (You can also roll it between two sheets of wax paper or plastic wrap). Lift it carefully into each tart shell, and press it together to seal any cracks. This dough is quite forgiving, and easy to repair – like play dough. Take any extra bits that you trim off the edges to press into any thinner spots on the rim of each tart shell.

Or roll out the dough into one large circle to fit an 11 or 12-inch tart shell. For a large tart shell made with gluten-free flours, you will definitely need to roll it between two sheets of wax paper or plastic. Work the rolling pin from the center of the pastry and roll toward the outer edges.

Peel off the top layer of wax paper or plastic and invert the pastry into the tart pan or pie pan. Carefully peel off the remaining sheet of wax paper and ease the pastry into the pan. Flute and trim the edges.

Makes six 4½ inch tart shells or one 11 or 12 inch tart or pie shell.

Kitchen Frau Note: This tart involves a few steps in making it, but is worth the trouble when you are looking for a special dessert for a special occasion – or just for a lovely afternoon tea. Sometimes the fiddling and making of a dessert like this is the fun part – if you have the time and feel the need for a creative outlet. All the cares of the world drop away as you roll and slice and putter. And the end result is a delectable dessert – honeyed and golden and rich with a whiff of ginger and sweet melting pears.

Gingered Pear Tart

• one recipe Basic Pastry Formula or Gluten Free Pie Crust (see above)
• 1 large egg yolk
• ¼ cup (30gms) almond meal/flour
• 2 tablespoons natural cane sugar
• 1 teaspoon powdered ginger
• 3 large or 4 medium-sized ripe pears (any variety)
• 2 tablespoons liquid honey
• 1 tablespoon white wine or rum (or water)
• 1 tablespoon coarse decorating sugar (or regular sugar)
• a few pinches of almond meal/flour for garnish

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Fit the pastry into six 4½ inch individual tart tins, or one 11 or 12 inch tart (or even a 10 inch pie plate will work).  In a small bowl, beat the egg yolk with a fork until smooth. Use a pastry brush to coat the bottom of the pastry in each tart tin or the larger tart.

In a small bowl mix together the almond meal, sugar and powdered ginger.

Divide it evenly among the yolk-coated tart shells, spreading it out lightly with your fingers (about 1 slightly heaped tablespoon per shell) or sprinkle evenly over the larger tart shell.

Cut the pears in half lengthwise, core them and slice them into very thin wedges. Arrange the wedges evenly in the tart shells (alternate the direction of the slices for best fit) or fan them around the large tart shell in a circle.

In a small bowl mix the liquid honey and white wine or rum. Whisk til smooth. Using a pastry brush, brush the tops of the pears, using up all the mixture. Sprinkle with the coarse sugar (½ teaspoon per each individual tart shell) and a few pinches of almond meal.

use red pears . . .

. . . or green ones

Bake  the tart shells for 35 to 45 minutes and the large tart pan for 45 to 55 minutes, until the juices in the center are bubbling, the pears are tender when pricked with a fork, and the crust is golden brown at the edges.

Makes 6 (4½ inch) individual tarts or one large 11 or 12 inch tart.

 Guten Appetit!

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Strawberry Meringue Pie

Apple Buckwheat Crumble Cake

Homemade Ice Cream Cake

The Un-Cheesecake with Coconut Crust and Berry Sauce

Mississippi Mud Sauce

Yup, winter’s still here.

We’re all getting mighty sick of it. Our yard still has two feet of snow in most places, but at least the sun is shining and the thermometer is bravely trying to hover up to 0°C. It almost makes it some days!

that’s one snowy path to the chicken coop

We’re longing to see a little bit of grass.

The greenhouse is still snowed-in, and there is icicle icing on the chicken coop roof.

But that brightly-shining sun makes up for a lot of late-winter-blues. One look at those sparkles on the snow and I can wait a little bit longer (I guess I have no choice).

the sparkles are there – if you look closely

So while I’m waiting, (on my days off) I’m cocooning inside and catching up on some recipe developing and household chores. But every now and then I take a little break and sit with my mug of tea and read the newspaper. Then I look through gardening magazines, and my thoughts turn to spring. I dream of new shoots poking through the earth and working the soil and getting some sun-warmed dirt under my fingernails.

Then I read in the paper how it’s unseasonably cold in many other parts of the world, too, and I realize how lucky we are to have the sunshine here in “Sunny Alberta”.

So I go back and do a little more puttering in my kitchen. And I make a batch of spicy, crunchy roasted chickpeas for Andreas to snack on when he comes home from school. I toss a handful onto my salad for lunch, and I munch a few handfuls as I stare out at the snowy yard, and soon there are only a few crispy chickpeas left in the bowl. So I have to make another batch.

They are a great little snack to nibble on while we wait.

And these high-fiber and nutritious little beans are also wonderful sprinkled on a salad or as a garnish on any kind of a creamy soup. Plus they help stave off hunger! Way better than potato chips or cheesies to satisfy those salty/crunchy cravings.

Kitchen Frau Notes: Chickpeas and garbanzo beans are the same thing – just different names. You can use canned chickpeas or ones you’ve soaked and cooked yourself for this recipe. If you only have a 14oz/400ml can of peas, that works, too. You’ll just have a few less chickpeas. Regular canned chickpeas already contain salt, so you will only need the ¼ teaspoon called for. If you cook your own beans, or buy unsalted canned ones, you may need to sprinkle on a bit more salt after they come out of the oven. Taste them and salt to your liking.

Smoked paprika comes in mild or hot. Either is fine. If you only have mild in your house, and would like a bit of zip to your peas, add a sprinkle of cayenne pepper.

 Spicy Roasted Chickpeas

inspired by various sites on the internet, and using my ‘secret spice blend‘ which is not so secret, I see . . .

• 2 cups (500ml) cooked chickpeas (1-19oz/540ml can)
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• ½ teaspoon smoked paprika
• ½ teaspoon onion or garlic powder
• a sprinkle of cayenne pepper (optional)
• ¼ teaspoon salt (plus more to taste)

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Rinse and drain the chickpeas well.

Line a 9 x 13 inch (23x30cm) pan with baking parchment paper or tinfoil. Plop the well-drained chickpeas in the pan.

Drizzle them with the olive oil and sprinkle with the seasonings. Then toss them with a rubber spatula until they are evenly coated with the spices.

Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, stirring halfway through, until the chickpeas are crunchy on the outside. Test a few to see if they are crunchy enough (let them cool a minute first or you will burn your tongue!) If not, bake a few minutes longer.

If you think they need more salt, give them a sprinkle while they are still hot.

They are best served warm, but not too shabby when cold, either. I like the leftover roasted chickpeas stirred into grain salads, like quinoa or rice salads, too, (even stews or stirfries) plus they are great as a garnish for soups or green salads of any kinds.

They will keep for three or four days sitting in a bowl on the counter, uncovered or loosely covered. Don’t cover them tightly or they will lose their crunch.

Guten Appetit!

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Irish Cheese Toasties

These moist, delicate little nuggets of pancakes are almost too good to be true. A cross between fluffy cheesecake and doughy breakfast pancake, they also pack a huge protein punch. Plus, they contain no sugar! You won’t feel guilty feeding these to your family in the mornings (even if they do load them up with sweet toppings.)

My kids have always loved pancakes, and could eat them any time of day. I never have to refrigerate leftovers, no matter how big the batch I make. They stay on a plate on the counter, covered in plastic wrap, and are always gone by the next morning, filched by invisible hands all day long.

When I was growing up, Saturday was housecleaning day. Unless it was seeding time or harvest time, farm chores were suspended for a few hours so we could tidy and dust and clean inside. But my sisters and I never minded too much, because we knew the compensation was always a Saturday supper of pancakes and tea. (I think Mom’s philosophy was that pancakes were easy and didn’t require too much additional mess in the kitchen, but we thought we were being rewarded for our hard work.)

I haven’t been able to instill such a weekly housecleaning routine into my children – our lives are too busy with other Saturday activities. In fact, housecleaning is something that ends up being squeezed in whenever there is a small empty space of time between sports and music and school – or when guests are about to arrive. It’s amazing how much housecleaning can be done in an hour when everyone is commandeered for company’s-coming-quick-let’s-clean-the-house duty.

So, in our house, any day can be Pancake Day. And though I make many different types of pancakes, these little High Protein Pancakes are one of our favourites. They are not like regular pancakes. They are thinner and much more moist and velvety, and a touch fragile, so it’s best to make them small-sized. The cottage cheese and eggs give them their lovely texture and cheesecakey quality. Try them with a topping of Greek yogurt and a dollop of marmalade or jam, or douse them in the traditional maple syrup for a simple treat.

Kitchen Frau Notes: These pancakes don’t need additional salt, because the cottage cheese is already salted. If you live in an area where you can’t get cream style cottage cheese, you could substitute with ricotta or dry curd cottage cheese and add more milk as you are blending until the consistency of the batter is liquid enough to pour. In that case, you could add a pinch of salt.

The original recipe (from my grease-spattered and much used Canadian Kinette Cookery, compiled by many home cooks) uses all purpose flour which, of course, works very well. But I have tried these pancakes with many different gluten-free flours, too, and find that brown rice flour works the best. Millet flour also works well, though the batter will be a little thinner and have a slight millet flavour. Quinoa flour raises the protein content of these pancakes even more, but adds an earthy flavour that may not appeal to everyone.

High Protein Pancakes

(adapted from Canadian Kinette Cookery, Derksen Printers, Steinbach, Manitoba)

• 1 cup (240ml) cream style cottage cheese
• 4 large eggs
• ½ cup (120ml) all purpose flour (or brown rice flour or millet flour)
• ¼ cup (60ml) oil (or melted coconut oil)
• ¼ cup (60ml)  milk (can use non-dairy milk, too)
• ½ teaspoon vanilla
• oil or coconut oil for greasing the pan

Plop all ingredients into a blender, and whirl until smooth. (Or use a food processor or mixer and beat well).

Set a skillet (non-stick works best) over medium-low heat. Grease it with oil or coconut oil. Make each pancake by pouring in a small amount of batter (1 to 2 tablespoons). Make them no larger than 3½ to 4 inches (9cm) in diameter. Cook over medium-low heat until golden brown on the bottom, then flip carefully and brown the other side. Cook these pancakes at a slightly lower temperature than you would cook normal pancakes. They will puff up while cooking, then deflate again when removed from the heat. You will need to add a little more oil between every couple batches.

 Remove to a plate to keep warm.

Makes 24 to 28 small pancakes.

 Guten Appetit!

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Rollpfannkuchen is Just Another Name for Crepes

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What’s for Breakfast? Ham and Green Onion Egg-Buns!

I was a chicken.

There, I’ve said it.  I’m coming clean.

Thousands and thousands of hours spent in kitchens, and I’ve always been afraid to cut up a whole raw chicken. It’s not that my mother didn’t teach me. And it’s not that I haven’t had opportunities to do it, or was lacking the tools.

It’s just that I was plain and simply . . . chicken. (Squeamishness about raw meat may have had something to do with it, but I wouldn’t admit to that under oath.) So I’ve avoided poultry dismemberment as much as possible in my cooking career.

Every year I order twelve large, plump, beautiful chickens from a German woman who raises them naturally on her farm. They come cleaned and bagged, ready for the freezer. About once a month I roast one and we have a wonderful chicken dinner. I slowly simmer the carcass for a rich golden broth that makes a flavourful and aromatic homemade chicken soup. But if I want to fry chicken or make a chicken stew or a casserole, I sheepishly admit that I have to buy the pieces already cut up.

Until the last time we went to visit Raymond’s parents. . . . .          

My mother-in-law is an amazing cook and an absolute wizard in the kitchen (I want to be like her when I grow up). But, she is slowing down just a bit (she’s only 88 years old, so I can’t imagine why) and suffers from arthritis in her shoulder. Margaret, will you cut up the chicken for me? she asked. What could I say? I swallowed, and said Sure, you just may have to talk me through it, though, since it’s been a while since I’ve cut one up. (Small understatement – maybe even a small lie.)

So, with her expert coaching, I cut up a chicken. And it was easy.

Last weekend we visited again, and she asked me to cut up two more chickens. I said, Sure, absolutely no problem.

And it wasn’t. I had those two chickens cut up in no time flat. (I’m a good student, you see.)

And I’m no longer a chicken about chickens.

How to Cut Up a Chicken

• one whole raw chicken – any size
• one very sharp knife
• one large cutting board
• a fearless attitude

Make sure your knife is sharp. (Dull knives can slip, and are actually more dangerous than sharp knives.)

Lay the chicken on a cutting board with the neck end facing you.

1. Cut off the wings. With one hand, grab hold of the wing and pull it gently outwards from the chicken. With your knife in the other hand, make a cut into the skin around the base of the wing, feeling where the joint is and cutting through the socket space between the wing bone and shoulder joint. Continue cutting around the wing bone, cutting into the breast a bit to include a portion of breast meat with the wing (this is only fair to the wing-eaters, so they get a bit more meat with their tasty morsels of wing meat).

2. Cut off the legs. Pull the leg away from the body with your non-cutting hand, and with your knife in the other hand, cut the skin between the leg and body. Cut all the way around the leg, pulling gently on it so you can see where it separates. When your knife gets to the part where the thigh attaches to the body, you can pull quite hard on the leg, bending it backward from the body a bit. You will have to find the joint, like you did with the wing, and cut between it. Bending the leg back from the body, will pop the thigh bone loose from the joint slightly and make it easier to see where to cut. If your knife is really sharp, you may cut through some of the cartilage on the end of the bone, but that’s okay. The leg will now be separated from the body. Do the same for the other leg.

3. Cut the legs apart. Each leg cuts into two pieces – the thigh and the drumstick. Start cutting about in the middle of the bend of the leg, on the outer side. Cut down until you hit bone, then cut the flesh all the way around the leg. You will need to find the space in the joint again to cut through. Bending back the top and bottom part of the leg may help you find the joint easier. Cut through it and you now have two leg pieces. Repeat with the other leg.

4. Cut out the ‘wishbone piece’. Turn the carcass again so the neck end is facing you. Now imagine where the wishbone is situated. You will be cutting an inverted “V” into the chicken breast to cut out the wishbone, along with a nice portion of white meat. Starting at the center of the breast, about two inches in from the top, cut a diagonal cut down each side, toward the shoulder of the bird. Pull this away from the rest of the breast, and then cut through the joint at each side where the collarbone is attached to the breastbone.

5. Cut out the two halves of the breast. With the tip of your knife, cut down along one side of the blade-shaped breast bone that runs down the middle of the chicken breast. Gently pulling the breast meat away from the chicken with one hand, use your knife to slice it away from the rib cage by running your knife close to the bones until the breast meat comes away in one nice whole piece.

See – you cut right along here.

If your chicken is large, this piece should be cut in half across the middle to make two smaller pieces. You can choose to leave the skin attached or remove it. (You can also leave the breast half in one piece if you want to use it for another purpose, but if you are using the whole chicken to fry, it’s a better size to make two pieces out of each breast half.) Repeat by cutting down the other side of the breast bone to remove the other half of the breast.

6. You will now have 11 pieces of chicken and the carcass (with neck attached) left. The carcass is more manageable and fits more easily into the soup pot if you separate it into two pieces. Do this by making a cut into each side of the rib cage about two inches deep. You will have to cut through the rib bones to do this, but if your knife is sharp this should be no problem. Then, holding one end of the carcass in each hand, bend it backward to find the place that it breaks naturally into half.

Use the knife to cut through the backbone at that spot. Freeze it now for future soup making or put into the soup pot and go for it.

No need to be a chicken about chickens any longer. If I can do it, you can do it!

Guten Appetit!

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Homemade Chicken Stock and Chicken Soup

Butter Chicken with Scented Basmati Rice

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Golden Vanilla Rice Pilaf