Barbie. A Triceratops. A Squash. And Quinoa Choyote Cherry Cake

Barbie says, harvest the smallest choyote so you can eat the entire squash -- skin, seeds and all.

Large choyote require peeling

and seeding.

Mom's hands and the cake in a loaf pan.

Much cuter baked in remekins.

The Stuff:

1 cup quinoa

1 cup flour

1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

2 choyote the size of apples, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes

7 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

3/4 cup dark brown organic sugar

3/4 cup cherries

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg 

1 teaspoon ground ginger                                                                                                                                               

The Work: 

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Combine the quinoa with plenty of water and bring to a boil. Cook 10 minutes or until quinoa is tender and the seeds' "tails" (the little white part) are beginning to uncurl. Drain well and set aside.
3. Dip a pastry brush in the melted butter and use it to grease the inside of a 9-inch by 5-inch loaf pan or 10 little white ramekins, which I prefer for their cute factor.
4. Put the remaining melted butter in a large bowl, and mix with brown sugar and cherries until evenly distributed.
5. Add choyote and cooked quinoa and stir to combine.
6. In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and ginger and nutmeg.
7. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir to evenly combine.
8. Scrape the mixture into the prepared loaf pan or ramekins and bake for 50 minutes if in a loaf pan and 43 minutes if in ramekins, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean and the top of the cake is golden brown.
9. Let cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto a cooling rack. Let cool completely before cutting to help cake maintain its shape.  Serve with homemade whipped cream.

Adapted from Home Made Winter.

Grow your own so you may harvest small.

Joni-Mitchell-Would-Eat-This Granola – Naturally Sweet Yet Feisty

When I moved into the dorms at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona in 1983, my first roommate dubbed me a “granola” after her survey of the cassettes on my shelf. Jersey girl, Sharon MacKenzie nailed it. I was and still smack of all things hippy. Even my husband ribs me when we pass the rainbow children thumbing it to the North Shore.

“Hey babe, look, there’s your people.”

It’s annoying. And at the risk of cliché I’ll add: You can take the girl out of the tie-dye but you can’t get the tie-dye out of the girl. 

But this isn’t a blog on hippy cultural terms, this is a bona fide recipe for a maple syrup sweetened granola that sings with rustic clarity. Bear with me, I’m smitten.

As much as I love Anahola Granola, and include it in every care package sent to friends on the Mainland, I weary of its sweetness. Then I discovered granola guru, Megan Gordon; a chic in Seattle killing it with her savory granola blends. This recipe is an off-spring of her granola base and 101 instruction she shared with thekitchn.com, where she is a contributing writer. I recommend visiting her site as well. 

I have a hunch I’m not saving money making my own, considering we devour one full recipe in two weeks and I’m baking a new batch before the last jar has even emptied.  

It’s that good.

JMWET Granola

Yield: 6 cups

Set out all of your ingredients.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Step 1.

Combine:

3 cups oats

½ cup sesame seeds

½ cup pumpkin seeds

½ cup almonds

Step 2.

Combine:

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground cardamom 

¾ teaspoon kosher salt

Stir into oat mixture.

Step 3.

In a separate bowl, combine: 

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup coconut oil

½ cup maple syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Add to spiced oats, mixing well.

Step 4.

Spread mixture on a parchment lined rimmed cookie sheet. Bake 38 minutes, turning every 15 minutes for even baking. Three minutes before the end of baking add:

1 cup of coconut flakes.

Step 5. 

Dried fruit and roasted nuts go in after baking is through. Once out of the oven add:

1 cup roasted pistachio, chopped

1 cup dry cherries, chopped roughly

Cool, then store in mason jars. It’s so pretty you’ll want to store in glass just so you can admire the toasty beauty.

Since we’re on a hippy tack, here’s a poem about hippy babies I wrote eight years ago while sitting in Kilauea Bakery. 

Day of the Dread

Hippy babies are taking over all the funky cafes. Hippy

babies in their patchouli soaked diapers with their natty 

dread dolls. Hippy babies with their Buddha bellies 

spilling over their hemp diapers; running between your legs 

as you walk across the hard wood floor with caramel rivers 

of coffee rolling from palm to elbow; scalding your 

fingers. Hippy babies bouncing off table legs in striped pants 

and polka-dot shirts with tassels snapping in their wake. One hippy 

baby shows up and a commune of organic scone-flinging babies is sure 

to follow. As the floor blooms with all-natural crumbs, the hippy 

babies divine spirits from soymilk stains on the tables. Hippy 

babies swing from the philodendra vines, laughing too loud and smiling 

at all the seated babies with napkins tucked in their shirts. Hippy 

babies drooling 100% organic cookie drool down Bob Marley 

T-shirts that cost a dime at the Hippy Baby Boutique. Hippy 

babies chanting with bodhi beads and bangles around emaciated

wrists, playing ukuleles and drowning out Greg Brown and Natalie 

Merchant in their ganga-stained hippy-baby voices. We ask them

politely, please sit, please clean up after yourself. The hippy 

babies won’t have any of it. Who are we to infringe upon their freedom?  

One Confession, One Digression, a Haiku and Soursop Coconut Scones

Scones are my super power. 

And with great power comes great responsibility. For one, a person with a super power should use it only for good. So my wielding It as a bribe for doing good in the world of non-profit organizations is justified, right? 

The confession: Take for instance the two years I worked as volunteer coordinator for Kauai Humane Society. Record numbers of volunteers would turn out for mailings if I sweetened the deal with fresh baked scones. 

Proof positive, there are too few bakers in the world, so a flaky pastry warm out of the oven is a much coveted thing. 

In 1985, at Macy’s European Coffee House in Flagstaff, I trained to be an early morning baker with a hippy chic named Sue Bug. Sue was the only employee with a “bug” at the end of her name, the rest of us answered to “bob,” as in Tim Bob, the owner and Lynn Bob, the manager. Friends I still know from that time refer to it as the Macy’s “Bob” era.

It wasn’t long before other people began to notice how my scones were different from those made from the same recipe. At Macy’s in the 80s we measured dry ingredients in giant metallic scoops and our spices, by the handful: x scoops of flour and sugar to x handfuls of cinnamon, cardamom, all spice or what-have-you. 

Another baker working there at the time explained the excellence of my scones according to karma: “You had a grandmother who baked scones for you in a past life.” 

I don’t know about karma or if the size of my hands happened to be the best size for measuring dry ingredients. What I do know is when Sue Bug trained me, she emphasized texture and appearance of the dry ingredients as I added liquid at the end of preparation. This is why the following recipe has no exact measurement for the soursop juice. Because of the humidity of our tropical climate, I can’t count on an exact measure. I begin with a scant ¾ cup of juice and drizzle in according to texture from there.

This is not the Macy’s recipe. The original recipe came from Julia Smith, a lovely Westside kupuna who has since passed, so I’m unable to trace its roots. I’ve been tweaking this recipe for 10 years so feel pretty safe calling it my own. 

At the Café 

Crossed legs, chin on fist

Her gaze studies vacant air

Words collect like dew 

Digression

Location: Sitting at a window in Ha Coffee Bar in Lihue, I sigh with contentment. In five days my 85 year-old mom moves back in with my husband and I. To my left is my friend Lois Ann working on a paper for her teaching program and across from her is Kim, writing a post for her blog. I’ve been writing with these two women for 8 years. Ours is a friendship that grew from our love of story and matured into a hui of respect and mutual support seasoned with laughter. This writing life would be so lonely without them.

Back to the recipe:

I begin with a base that evolves into either date/cherry, date/cranberry, mango/coconut, carrot/walnut and most recently, this soursop/coconut version. I change sugar types according to the texture I seek, and introduce wheat or rice flours on occasion. This recipe is amenable to many types of fresh or dry fruit. Just add fruit to dry ingredients and feel free to switch the liquid according to taste. I use either buttermilk, orange juice or soursop juice. I always prefer something grown close to home and the soursop is 30 feet from my kitchen door. 

Soursop Coconut Scones

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees

Notes: I use a food processor, but it’s not mandatory. If you don’t have a processor, work the butter into the dry ingredients until it is the texture of gravel. They will still come out flaky and perfect.

I live in a hot climate so always use frozen butter.

Combine:

3 cups flour

½ cup white sugar

1 Tbl. baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

Add:

¾ cup frozen unsalted butter

Mix until gravelly.

Transfer from the food processor into a large bowl.

Add:

¾ cup coconut flakes. I prefer the wider ribbons vs. the thin shredded style

2 cups chopped Madjool dates

Add:

½ cup sour cream. Mix in lightly.

Add a scant 3/4 cup liquid, in this case soursop juice. Only add enough to pull dough together. There should be dry ingredients still visible in the dough. Plop spoonfuls of dough on to an ungreased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar.

Scones bake faster on the black cookie sheet. If using black, bake 18 minutes; if using aluminum, bake 22 minutes.