Beard, Bread, Bananas

When it turns cold, grey and drizzly, I find myself needing banana bread. For me, banana bread represents that feeling of warmth and security that overcomes a person when walking through the front door after a trying day and a long, cold walk from the bus stop. A toasted slice or two, with a thin spreading of butter, and a cup of tea was my ultimate after-school snack.

Thus, last week, feeling rather nostalgic and counting down the days until returning to the Twin Cities for Christmas, I called home for the butter-stained page out of James Beard's Beard on Bread (Knopf, 1973). There are two versions--one with honey and another, without.

The beauty of Beard's recipe is in the 'buttermilk', which one makes by combining 1/3 cup milk and 1 tsp. fresh lemon juice. The tang of slightly curdled milk offsets the sweetness of the sugar and banana and rounds out the flavour of the bread. Armed with GourmetSleuth's gram conversion calculator, I set about converting the list of ingredients into grams. I've listed the rough conversions in the recipe below.

Now, I am not one to go about messing with a James Beard recipe, but I did feel that, in this instance, the combination of caster sugar and brown sugar, instead of granulated sugar alone, created a totally decadent caramelised note that I will not be able to do without from this point forward.

250g/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt

113 g/ 1.5 cup butter
62 g/ .5 cup caster sugar
62g/ .5 cup dark brown sugar*

2 eggs
230g/ 1 cup mashed banana

1/3 cup milk
1 tsp. lemon juice

* If you would prefer to stay true to Mr Beard's recipe, use 1 cup of granulated sugar

Sift the flour, baking soda and salt in a sieve and set aside. Cream the butter and sugar using electric beaters (MixMaster). Add the eggs and banana to the creamed butter and sugar, combine milk and lemon juice in a glass, and then add the dry ingredients and the milk mixture in alternating additions, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Fold in chocolate chips, raisins, or anything else that you fancy!

Pour the batter into a lavishly buttered loaf pan and bake at 350 F (176 C) for one hour.

Roast Chicken Salad

Keeping with this recent theme of posts to do with leftovers, I thought this warm salad of leftover chicken might make a timely addition. With the mercury dropping, or, in Oxford's case, a seemingly constant cold rain falling, I find myself craving stodge in a primal way--somewhere, deep in those rare, remaining empty fat cells there is a concerted, biological chorus of voices cooing 'fatten up for winter!'

And in a last-ditch effort this week to stick to healthy dinners, this salad fit the bill as both warming, satisfying and...well...not unhealthy.

Mixed greens, washed and torn
1/2 small white onion, finely sliced
1 garlic clove, minced
1/2 bulb fennel, finely sliced, exterior layer removed and discarded.
1 apple (Pink Lady is a favourite), cut into fine slices
Leftover roasted chicken
Stilton or blue cheese, crumbled, to taste
Cashew nuts (optional; toasted almonds or pine nuts could work, too)

3 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs. white wine vinegar
1 tsp. Dijon mustard (whole grain mustard would be fine as well)
Salt
Pepper

In a small saute pain, add 2 tsp. olive oil and saute the onion over medium-high heat until soft and beginning to brown; then, add the sliced fennel and garlic and continue to saute another 2-3 minutes. Lower the heat and add in cubed chicken, stirring until the chicken is heated through.

Whisk together the last five ingredients in a large bowl and toss with salad greens. Layer the greens on a plate, followed by the sliced apples, chicken/onion/fennel mixture, Stilton, and cashews.

The salty tang of cheese, sweet apple, combined with the savoury warm ingredients hits every note and creates a satisfying mouthfeel without any stodge!

Menemen (the stove top edition)

With little else than feta and tomatoes in the fridge on a Sunday morning, what is a girl to do?

Make menemen.

This weekend's festivities have left me feeling my age. I do realise that one's mid-twenties does still fall under the 'spring chicken' category, but two nights of boozy social events left me feeling, well, like I was too old to be feeling as badly as I did this morning.

While staring bleakly into the florescent expanse, three sad eggs called out 'menemen'. Feeling the need for a bit of a refresher on method, I turned to Google, and the results were anything but helpful. Search results varied from the truly disgusting to the city of Menemen, Turkey, to the traditional, though vague.

The menemen I had eaten and since dreamed about was always served in metallic bowls, the sucuk (spicy sausage) crispy and bubbling against the slightly browned edges. Clearly, these were finished over a high flame or a broiler. Lacking in any oven-proof pans to speak of, I decided to go at it on the gas hob.

I first combined the following in a bowl:

2 ripe tomatoes, chopped
3 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed & minced
2 medium-sized shallots, peeled & minced
1 Tbs. sumac
Turkish red pepper (pul biber), to taste

I then let this sit while whisking these:

3 eggs
2 tsp. dried parsley
1/4 c. milk
Salt and ground black pepper

I coated the pan in olive oil and threw in the tomaotes.
I let these cook on medium-high heat for a minute or so, enough time for the shallots to soften but careful not to burn the garlic.

Then the eggs went in:









A few gentle nudges with the wooden spoon ensured that the tomato mixture was equally distributed and that the eggs in direct contact with the pan would not burn.


At this point it is best to drop the heat, add the feta, and cover for about 8 minutes. Count on at least one minute per inch of pan diameter. With a bit of toasted bread and a strong coffee, I was feeling myself again.

Traditionally, mild green peppers and/or sucuk are added, but I didn't have any, so there you are! Some non-traditional additions might include goat's cheese, brie, or left over roasted vegetables. This dish will beat a boring omlette or fritata any day.

Arbutus

On a recent trip to London, my mom and I were searching for an easy, reasonable pre-theatre menu, and Soho's Arbutus ticked both boxes.

The interiors are welcoming, the staff friendly, helpful, and prompt, and the food is reflective of Anthony Demetre's Michelin etoile earned at Putney Bridge Restaurant. Demetre has worked with Will Smith since 1998, and it has been a match that, judging by our recent meal, has worked brilliantly. Demetre's menu is straightforward and comforting without being predictable or boring.

My 'vegetable soup' starter was actually a soupe au pistou, with a dollop of pesto hiding beneath carefully arranged vegetables that had to have been cooked separately from the broth because they were just barely still crisp and the broth worked as a compliment rather than a liquified version of the mushy veggie flavours (as, sadly, so many vegetable soups turn out to be).

Our main (we chose identically) was billed as 'Slow cooked lamb breast, potato puree'. But it was more. Oh, so much more. The layers of breast had been flash sauteed to crisp the meat and then layered into a terrine and braised. With the potato on the side, it was more like a deconstructed lamb brandade, with the carrots seasoned simply (and with copious amounts of butter...which was surely the secret to the potatoes as well).

Will Smith's part in all of this was equally praiseworthy. The pair's philosophy is 'value for money and quality', and Smith's wine list is evidence that they intend to stay true to it. The approximately 25 reds and 25 whites are listed in 1/3 bottle-sized carafes, and not a one struck me as unreasonably priced. Also, for a party of three or four, the 1/3 bottle makes it possible to pair every course with something different.

Unfortunately, I ate dessert too quickly to take a picture, but let that be proof in the pudding that it was something splendid. It was a creme caramel that was one part flan, one part apple crumble, and served with a slender biscotti with which to scoop up layers of caramelised apple (and, I think, a wee bit of pear) and delightfully light vanilla creme.

Oh, and the bill? 18.95 GBP per person. Granted, this was without wine, but Arbutus, in my opinion, is the best pre-theatre spot for a Drury Lane show.

Now, go eat and GO SEE THE WAR HORSE.