Keep Digging: Beyond Images, a Faux Rhubarb Goat Yogurt Scone

Sometimes the presence of one thing amplifies the absence of another.

In this case, the shadow growing behind each new memory this Mother's Day was the absence of my father. He was my greatest scone-devouring fan, even offering to bankroll a bakery for me when I graduated from college in 1986. Hindsight….

Besides roasting a turkey and baking macaroni and cheese for Sunday's festivities, the wild mountain apple also made two appearances for brunch: as the previously posted lemonade and then as a coffee cake, which I'll post in a few days. Both were big hits. I'm choosing to share a new scone recipe today, in memory of you, Dad. 

Walking around my childhood neighborhood the week my dad died 

I found this ball in the gutter. I read it as a sign he'd arrived safely.

Rubber band bracelets were part of my father's daily attire.  

Moving on.

I can't post a goat on my site without waxing poetic for a moment about my Capricorn father, a goofy and exuberant influence on my love of all-things-kitchen. 

The muskiness of the homemade goat yogurt nuzzles into the heady perfume of the mountain apple with more grace than overt lust.

While I do not eat these apples raw, many do. Their super power for me is in their rhubarbishness. My Nova Scotia Nana made me rhubarb pie every summer when we'd visit her in Halifax. She'd serve it with both blend (half-n-half) and ice-cream. She grew the rhubarb in her garden and also near Grand Lake, where she and Grandpa had a cabin we referred to as "camp."

Faux Rhubarb Goat Yogurt Scone
The original recipe can be viewed here.

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 tablespoon 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:

1 cup chopped mountain apple

1/2 cup chopped Madjool dates

1/2 cup golden raisins 

Fold in:

1 to 1 1/2 cups goat yogurt. 

Because I follow Yvette Van Boven's method for making yogurt, it's quite runny compared to store bought. This is the only liquid I use. I add enough to pull the dough together, that's why the measurement is not exact; it all depends on the humidity that day. There should be dry ingredients still visible in the bottom of the mixing bowl. If you are using thicker yogurt, I would add one cup of yogurt and drizzle in enough orange juice to pull the dough together.

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.

The Tree That Keeps on Giving: Wild Mountain Apple Lemonade

Bring 31/2 cups water to a boil with 5 cups chopped wild mountain apple, 3 1-inch strips lemon skin, 3/4 cups sugar, 5 sprigs of mint.
Simmer 20 minutes.


Strain.
Press all liquid from fruit with the back of a wooden spoon.
Add a cup of lemon juice.
Serve over ice with soda water to make it bubbly.

This beverage has been approved by Barbie.

She's Never Been an Eater: Mom's Peach Coconut Smoothie

This is the smoothie my mom drinks everyday without complaint. I have to say, "without complaint," because this 120 pound 85 year-old is not a fan of our mostly vegetarian lifestyle. Although she did tell me this week that my quiche was my best effort yet. Thank you eggs, flour, milk and frozen pie crust.
I boost this smoothie with coconut oil to feed mom's brain and for her gut, either Straus Family Creamery Maple yogurt or their peach kefir. I add protein powder for obvious reasons and coconut milk for a healthy fat. This is a case where every item is organic.

Caroline's Peach Coconut Smoothie

1/2 cup coconut milk

1 tablespoon Coconut oil

2-4 tablespoons peach kefir or Maple yogurt

A heaping scoop of protein powder

1 small handful frozen peaches

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.

Try Share -- Kauaians Do It Best

Across the corrugated tin "fence" that separates our yard from Priscilla and Henry's orchard, I receive a 2 x 2 foot box filled with mountain apples. 

The tree she stands beneath is massive; it must top out at 40 feet and is at least 10 across. The blossoms fall in hot pink strands that carpet the soil, in what I imagine, any 6 year-old girl would drool to have on her bedroom floor.

Such a vibrant tree putting out a pretty fruit that's disappointingly bland. This strange fruit is more pear than apple really; the flesh is soft and its shape too, reminds me of a pear. 

Priscilla routinely gives me quantities of whatever is fruiting in her yard. I can't possibly keep up with her generosity, so I try to come up with new ways to hand her a bit of her own harvest back over the fence. 

I've baked with mountain apples in the past, with mediocre results. But this time I'm armed with a new discovery, a book given to me by my husband earlier this month: Home Made Winter, by Yvette Van Boven. I could gush shamelessly about the charm, reliability and genius of this tome, but I'll leave it to you to visit for yourself. 

So far I've followed her guidance on making yogurt, butter, cakes, and now for the mountain apple, her chutney. I replace the apples with mountain apples and the tomatoes with canned tomatoes. I am also a fan of the organic dark brown sugar for its molasses content. The results were fantastic. Chutney is an Indian condiment, but for me it's divine on buttered bread or as my friend Meg advised, a fun addition to her coleslaw. Regardless, it's a wonderful remedy for an abundance of fruit.

In a second batch I made use of the choyote squash; farmers markets are overflowing with them right now. I used equal amounts of each. 

Mountain Apple Chutney

21/4 lb mountain apples or equal amounts choyote and the apple

2 cans of diced tomatoes with juice

2 onions

2 clove garlic

1/2 cup golden raisins

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon black or yellow mustard seeds 

12 tablespoon hot style curry powder

a grind of nutmeg

2 teaspoon salt

21/2 cups cider vinegar

In a large pot place the diced fruit in 21/2 cups water. Simmer for 25 minutes. Don't allow to dry out. Add a bit more water if necessary. 

Add remaining ingredients. Stir until the sugar is dissolved, then bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer 3 hours. Stir occasionally.

Spoon the hot chutney into sterilized jars. Makes around 41/2 cups and fills three large jars and one small. Wash double lidded jars in soapy water, rinse and put in a 285 degree oven for 10 minutes. Don't use metal lids, as they react with the acid of the tomato.

Seal and set them upside-down until cool. Yvette suggests waiting a month to eat. I gave away and my impatient friends said they ate immediately and loved it. So there ya go!

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?  

Baby food For Grown-ups – Thai Green Risotto

Cardamom pods and their dusky inhabitants.

Triple happiness: garlic, ginger and The Heat

Lemon grass: olfactory bliss.

Green onion, earth's own sparklers.

Soupy goodness.

Breakfast is served; baby food for grown-ups

8:20 a.m. I return from a dog walk hungry. 

You know a dish is comforting when you can lift the lid from the pan still sitting on the stove top from last night’s dinner, spoon it into your mouth, and sigh. 

This green curry began as a recipe from 101cookbooks.com where it was called a “porridge,” and rightly so, it has all the trappings of a fairy tail that ends with a nap. 

Nine days ago my 85 year-old mother moved in with us. I’m exhausted. Being her caregiver means assuming the physical body of another person: fetching, bending, lifting, wiping and the inevitable cheer leading, required to buoy the spirit. And my feet hurt. In a very unHawaii-like fashion, I’ve taken to wearing shoes indoors due to the dozen dead lifts performed each time I move her from point A to point B.

This green curry is pure comfort; as nurturing as a warm bowl of polenta fresh off the fire or a chocolate chip cookie still all melty and messy. It really was exactly what I needed Sunday night; and apparently this morning too.

Even my mom ate it. A person I consider the very opposite of a “foodie.” As long as I can remember, this little woman has been on diets. As long as I can remember, she’s lived on cottage cheese, butter Buds (a god-only-knows-what, butter substitute) and egg white biscuits. 

My husband and I love ethnic foods bursting with heat and flavor. Mom’s intolerance for big flavors naturally influences our usual daring menu. The coconut cream, cilantro and spinach base of the curry, combined with the sweet meat of a yam, worked to satisfy everyone. In fact, my mother has never liked rice. And yet, she wasn’t able to identify the brown rice so saturated with sauce it was reminiscent of a risotto, thus the new name.

Thai Green Risotto

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoons fresh lemongrass, minced

3 cloves garlic, minced

6 kefir lime leaves

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1 ¾ cups uncooked brown rice

5 cups water

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 14-ounce can full-fat coconut milk

1 tablespoon minced ginger, peeled

2 Hawaiian peppers, more for extra heat

1 cup cilantro

½ cup green onion tops

1 cup frozen spinach, thawed

2 yams, boiled whole and peeled
Cilantro for garnishing

Warm olive oil in a deep pan, add kefir lime leaves, coriander and rice. Stir constantly until rice is toasty and fragrant, 7 minutes. Add the water. Stir in a teaspoon of salt and allow to simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for 25 to 35 minutes or until many of the grains have burst.

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Simmer whole yams for 12 minutes until al dente, peel and cut into bite-size chunks.

While the rice simmers, combine coconut milk, lemongrass, ginger, chile, cilantro, garlic, green onion tops, spinach and a teaspoon of salt in a blender. Blend into a smooth sauce. I chose to reserve ¼ cup of this yummy sauce to have on hand for another dish later in the week. 

Add the green sauce and yam to the rice soup and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. I add one cup of stock at this point because I like it soupy, but that is preferential. Up to you.

Serve in bowls garnished with cilantro and green onion or just stand by the stove and eat directly from the pan in the morning.