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Cinnamon + streusel + muffin. Yes, please.

Posted on June 29, 2012

Happy Friday, everyone! Personally, I’m thrilled to have made it to this weekend. On Wednesday night I enjoyed the last class meeting of my third grad school class. Check check! The class came and went so quickly in a mere six weeks that Wednesday night happened without any big to-do. Well, other than the wine and champagne we enjoyed in class, of course. What can I say? Food studies students do things in style!

By the time I got home on Wednesday and allowed myself a little much-needed time to relax, it had occurred to me what I just accomplished. I enjoyed a sweet little moment alone to celebrate, wine glass in hand. Three classes down, seven more to go. The next one starts this coming Tuesday, which leaves today and tomorrow for fun fun fun. Reading starts Sunday!

So I want to leave you with this little gem for your weekend. Whether you had a great week, hard week, short, or long, these muffins filled with cinnamon and topped with a generous heaping of streusel will make every single thing better. I promise. The cake of these muffins if moist and soft with just about the perfect sized crumb, thanks to the addition of the cornstarch. Inside the cake you’ll find a dark, fragrant dollop of cinnamon and brown sugar. It doesn’t ooze out of the muffin, it just sits there waiting patiently for you to find it. And then if that weren’t enough, the streusel on top offers a little crunch, and a lot of extra flavor. These muffins will just about melt in your mouth. I hope you can take the time to wake up early, brew some coffee, and stick these puppies in the oven. By the time the rest of the world catches up with you, they’ll be lucky if you haven’t eaten every last one.

Cinnamon Streusel Muffins

Ever so slightly adapted from The Curvy Carrot

Yield: 12 muffins

Ingredients

Streusel:

1/3 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup chopped walnuts

1/4 cup rolled oats

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

3 Tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

Filling:

3 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 1/2 Tablespoons ground cinnamon

Muffins:

8 Tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

3/4 cup 1-2% milk

2 large whole eggs

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup rolled oats

2 Tablespoons cornstarch

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 Tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Directions

Preheat the oven to 400° F.

Line a cupcake pan with liners or thoroughly spread with soft butter, inside the cups and along the top of the pan.

Streusel:

In a microwaveable bowl, soften the butter. Add the remaining streusel ingredients and stir to combine until the mixture is crumbly. Set aside.

Filling:

In a microwaveable bowl, soften the butter. Add the brown sugar and cinnamon to the butter. Stir to thoroughly combine. Set aside.

Muffins:

In a microwaveable bowl, melt the butter. Add the milk and eggs to the butter. Whisk until thoroughly combined.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, cornstarch, sugar, baking powder, salt, nutmeg, and cinnamon.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients. Stir lightly with a spoon or spatula until the batter is smooth and well-combined.

Fill each cup in the pan half way with batter.

Place 2 teaspoons of the filling on top of the batter in each cup.

Then fill the cups with the remaining batter, on top of the filling.

Sprinkle as much of the streusel on top of each muffin as will fit without spilling over to the top of the pan.

Place the muffin pan on a baking sheet.

Bake for 20-25 minutes, until the tops of the muffins are lightly browned all over.

Enjoy!

Arugula, couscous, and ninety degrees.

Posted on June 25, 2012

I took my time meandering through the produce section at Trader Joe’s yesterday. I was still mourning the loss of not making it to my farmers market last week, so I gifted myself extra time to ooh and aah at this summer’s bounty that is finally making its way into my kitchen. Peaches, zucchini, nectarines, eggplant, strawberries that taste like strawberries and not like water. Heaven!

As I wandered and stared, and stared and wandered, trying desperately to not buy everything all at once, I racked my brain for a way to get as much of this fresh produce as possible into my diet this week. I don’t recall if I’ve admitted this before, since I have the worst memory in the history of mankind, but my love of the typical green salad has been waning for some time now. Lettuce with a few inexpensive vegetable toppings and a dressing? Snoozefest!

Hence (now don’t I sound high and mighty), I’ve been trying to be more creative in my use of vegetables and produce. Lunch is really the challenge for me. When I’m working and therefore away from home, I don’t want to spend extra money on food that’s likely not very tasty and even less likely to be made from quality ingredients. So I do my best to bring lunch to work with me. Historically during the summer when there’s a plethora of produce and hot temperatures, such as the oh-so-fun ninety degree weather we’ve been having here in Boston, my go-to is a simple cold salad. But I’m so over those. Did I say that already?

Yesterday, pondering ideas for this week’s possible lunches, I was inspired by a classmate who brought a simple pesto couscous salad to class a few weeks ago. Admittedly, one of the very best benefits of getting a Master’s degree in food studies is that snack time is considered a very important element of every class!

I decided to build upon her creation with a number of my own additions. I wanted to make something that would be hearty enough to sustain me for the afternoon. Or rather, for the two hours before I would inevitably get hungry again. Alas, my stomach never grew out of its toddler days. I must carry snacks with me religiously.

A few more trips down the aisles and this week’s lunch was born. I hope this dish finds its way to your table, too. It was so quick and easy to make, and just as satisfying. This salad is full of textures, from the soft couscous to the crunchy pine nuts. And it’s chock full of even more flavors — the tang of the bitter arugula pairs perfectly with the mild sweetness of the beans and tomatoes, all married together by the fragrant pesto.

Even though this salad (I hesitate to even call it that!) is abounding in protein from the couscous and beans, if you want a little meat protein, or want this dish to be even heartier, I’m sure it would be equally delicious with the addition of shredded chicken. I should also warn you, this salad’s best day was the day it was made. If you eat it in leftover form, I’d suggest adding a little oil and vinegar, or even a dollop of pesto, to moisten it back up. I think that tomorrow I’ll enjoy mine with a side of spicy hummus and wheat crackers. Topped off by one of those nectarines, of course!

Israeli Couscous and Arugula Salad

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

1 1/3 cups dry Israeli (or “pearl”) couscous

1 Tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

1 3/4 cups boiling water

1 15 oz can cannellini beans

2 cups cherry tomatoes, cut in half lengthwise

1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese

1/4 cup toasted pine nuts

2 large handfuls of fresh arugula

1/2 cup basil pesto

1/2 teaspoon salt

fresh cracked pepper

Directions

Heat the oil over medium heat. Add the couscous and cook, stirring regularly, until the couscous is lightly browned — about 5 minutes.

In the meantime, boil water in a tea kettle. Once the couscous is toasted, add the boiling water to the pot of couscous, reduce the heat to medium low and cover the pan. Let simmer for about 12 minutes, or until the couscous is tender.

While the couscous is cooking (say “couscous” five times fast), combine the beans, tomatoes, feta cheese, pine nuts, pesto, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Adjust the seasonings as you see fit.

Add the arugula to the bowl and stir to combine.

Add the couscous and adjust the salt and pepper once more if you need some additional flavor.

You really can’t mess up this salad, so I encourage you to mix it up, add additional seasonings, ingredients etc. And let me know what you come up with!

Enjoy!

Grandma’s Recipe Book

Posted on June 10, 2012

I’m baaaaaack! And I’ve missed you all. I hope June’s been treating you well! So far, June has gifted me with beautiful sunny weather and a thirty-first birthday. All so very exciting.

It’s hard to believe that summer is here and I’m already back to school. After surviving my first semester of grad school (thanks in large part to aforementioned copious amounts of wine and friends), I decided to take two classes this summer. The summer is different, though, in that it’s broken into two separate sessions. This means that for two six-week sessions I will take one class at a time. Easy peasy, right? Ha! I had no idea what people meant when they’d say to me, “Ooooooh. You’re taking summer classes?” Let’s just say that the speed at which these classes have to move in order to squeeze a semester into six weeks is just a little bit unbecoming.

Thankfully, I was pretty darn excited about both of my classes and the first one is proving me right so far. I’m 2.5 weeks into my first class: ” The Remembrance of Things Tasted: Reading and Writing the Food Memoir.” As my professor put it, “Food in its substantial state rests but an instant on the tongue; in memory it remains for years, hidden until tapped by the taste of something similar or the same. Memories of meals or dishes serve writers as a portal into their past or an armature over which other memories may be draped. Food memoir constitutes a literary genre worthy of our attention.” Doesn’t that sound dreamy and romantic?! Ah, to be a food nerd. I love it.

Each week we’re reading a long food memoir, plus several shorter stories. We’re also writing our own short memoirs in an effort to try different writing styles and find our various creative voices. As we read each other’s memoirs in class last week I realized just how vulnerable it can be to share personal stories and memoirs. Especially those that often reflect a life lesson learned or share an important and intimate memory. I’ve loved every minute so far and so I thought that maybe, just maybe, you might be interested in some of the things I end up writing. At least I know you are, mom! So, here’s this week’s.

~ Grandma Barbe, with my sister sitting on her lap and me standing beside her ~

A Love Unspoken

The house feels empty. Which is odd, since it’s impressively full. I walk past the sewing room, overflowing with reams of fabric and hundreds of spools of thread. Grandma’s three big sewing machines line the far wall under the windows that look out into the backyard. Next door I see my aunt sitting on the floor of the office drowning in file boxes and old black and white photos from Grandma’s glory days as a news radio bureau chief and reporter. Down the hall my sister sits on Grandma’s bed sorting through decades-old jewelry and even older hat boxes from my great-great grandmother’s era. Grandma’s stuff is everywhere. She seems to be all that’s missing.

“Jen, come take a look at this,” I hear my mom yell from the garage. I wander in and find mom peering into boxes of old books. “Look at this one,” she says. She hands me a small leather-bound binder bearing only the word Recipes in gold script on the cover. I open it and see that inside the front cover Grandma dated the book “1994” and wrote in her perfect script, “Jennifer Taillon – a gift from Grandma Barbe.” It’s 2007 and I quickly realize that this is the first time anyone has seen this book.

After Grandma’s dedication, the recipe book starts with a section of cards filled with household tips and cleaning tricks. “Keeping Silver/Pewter,” the first card is titled. “Cleaning Piano Keys,” says the card below it. The plastic pages that hold each card are starting to wear down, ripping at the seams but still holding tight to their contents. “Cleaning Upholstery.” “Cleaning the Fireplace.” “Keeping Flowers Fresh.”

Flipping to the next section I find a recipe for quince marmalade, with the year “1923” written next to the title. Under the title Grandma added, “This is Nana’s and she made it every year, when I was a child.” The recipe titled “Waffles” offers its own story: “Anna was Charlie’s wife. Charlie was Frank’s brother. Frank was Winnie’s husband. Winnie was Nana’s daughter.” I look up at my mom for a reminder. “Winnie?” I ask. “She was your great-grandmother, Kaye’s sister. Grandma’s aunt,” my mom clarifies. My head and heart begin to spin.

I carefully turn the plastic pages, moving back through a culinary history I never knew existed. Brownies dated 1929. Pecan rolls dated 1927. “Mrs. Finch to Kaye Clapp, 1953,” says the heading on the French dressing recipe card. Grandma had purposefully noted this one as “my favorite” when she signed the card.

Through neatly written words on a seemingly random assortment of recipe cards, Grandma was letting me into her life in a way I hadn’t been allowed before, but had always wanted. “Grandma made this for me?” I ask. “She must have been putting this together over the years and forgot to give it to you,” my mom says. A smile spreads across my face—joy tinged with grief. I take the book and wander into the dining room, sitting down in the empty silence.

Off in the distance of my memories I hear Grandma say, “Jennifer, please take this whipped cream to the table for the strawberries.” She’s standing in her kitchen, a semi-circle of walls and cabinets. “Sure, Grandma. Is there anything else I can help you with?” I ask. She answers with a distant half-smile. “Nothing right now, thank you.” As always, she has the chaos of Easter brunch under control.

Throughout the house I hear the buzz of adult conversation and the shrieks from my cousins playing back in the guest room. I dutifully take the huge bowl of whipped cream from the kitchen counter and set it on the table, grateful to be given a helpful task. Instantaneously my sister and my cousins are by my side, ready for the best part of Easter at Grandma’s: long-stemmed strawberries, dipped into fresh whipped cream and topped off with a dunk in the heaping bowl of brown sugar.

The long stem is key, as my hand can barely fit around the bulging end of the enormous strawberries. Gripping the strawberry right where the stem meets its big green leaves, I can wield as much control as possible for the dip in the whipped cream. The very first bite is my favorite: sweet, juicy, grainy from the brown sugar that quickly melts in my mouth. Running my tongue along the roof of my mouth I can feel the smooth film created by the thick whipped cream.

“Now don’t eat all those before the adults can have some,” Grandma says. “And save room for this lunch.” Grandma returns to the stove and this time I ask if I can help her with the cooking. Wide-eyed and eager, I’m told, “No no. I’m fine. Why don’t you set the table?”

As brunch ends and the dim light of mid-afternoon sets in, dad tells me it’s time to go home. I walk up to Grandma for a hug. Her arms around me, I don’t feel much besides an impenetrable distance.

“Goodbye, Jennifer.”

“Goodbye, Grandma. See you soon.”

Sitting at the now-empty table, those Easter brunches feel so far away. My desperate desire to stand beside Grandma in the kitchen and be allowed to share just one moment of intimacy with her remains as real as the taste of that first bite of strawberry.

As I look down at the recipe book, this treasured gift I never knew existed, my tears begin to fall. It slowly dawns on me. After years of feeling invisible, it turns out Grandma knew I was there all along, ready and waiting to watch and learn. As I continue to read the detailed instructions of each recipe, and the history that brought them to me, I wish I had learned these recipes from Grandma’s hands rather than her writing. But I know that she gave me all she could in those words, in that book. The book of my Grandma’s unspoken love and intention.

Archive for

Cinnamon + streusel + muffin. Yes, please.

Posted on June 29, 2012

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Arugula, couscous, and ninety degrees.

Posted on June 25, 2012

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Grandma’s Recipe Book

Posted on June 10, 2012

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