September 2006 Archives
I've been trying to convince myself that the oatmeal cookies we made from the recipe on top of the Quaker Oats canister are a healthy snack. After all, the ratio of oats to white flour is 2:1 (3 cups oats, 1 1/2 cup flour), the same as the ratio of oats to the brown and white sugars combined. Add to that a generous cup of raisins and dried cranberries, and you have quality entries from at least two food groups. Sure, there are some empty calories in there. But cookies are good for the soul, too, right?
I made mine double the size the recipe called for. I just can't imagine that a bite-sized oatmeal cookie is as satisfying as a big, dense, chewy one you can sink your teeth into. August has gotten big enough that when he sees them on the counter he clamours, "cookie, I wanna cookie." I think it's time to invest in a solid, can't-see-through cookie jar, because he's in the out-of-sight-out-of-mind phase.
No butter, no eggs, no milk. Just flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, salt, water, cider vinegar and oil (I used olive) for a perfectly moist, simple chocolate cake. It kind of has a reddish hue, which I thought might be a result of the vinegar/baking soda reaction, sort of like a red-velvet cake. I read about this on Words to Eat By. Thank goodness she got to baking this cake before she went and had that baby!
Mix 1 1/2 cups flour with 1 cup sugar, 1/3 cup cocoa powder, 1 teaspoon baking soda and 1/2 teaspoon salt. In another bowl, whisk 5 tablespoons of oil with 1 cup cold water, 1 tablespoon cider vinegar and 1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla (oops, forget to mention vanilla above). Pour liquids into flour mixture, then pour into a greased 9-inch pan. Bake 30 minutes-ish in a 350 oven until the top springs back when pressed in the middle.
In the last three days I have seen my baby boy twice take a bite of simply prepared but very tasty zucchini (once sauteed with garlic, once served in pasta with fresh basil, olive oil and parmesan), then thrust his tongue, and the offending vegetable, out of his mouth.
Today I shredded the very same veggie and baked it in a frittata and he gobbled it up. Thus my training in vegetable concealment begins.
My baby boy almost made it through the first two years of his life without having a good dumpling. And he LOVES dumplings, so that is a very sad statement. I decided almost as soon as I moved to New York that the best judge of a Chinese restaurant is its dumplings. And most of them are just awful, too thick, doughy and sticky or soggy or cheater dumplings, made with those transparent papers (is it rice papers or some kind of wonton wrapper?).
But Rickshaw Dumpling Bar, on 23rd in Chelsea, has good dumplings. We tried the pork and chive and the duck with hoisin sauce. Both were juicy little meatballs in pasta-like steamed wrappers that were the perfect thickness, the perfect texture. We took them on-the-go, in the car, and they were perfect portable food, too.
We also had the chocolate soup dumplings, which is a molten chocolate filling wrapped in a doughy, chewy pastry that's coated with sesame seeds. Todd thought the flavor was off-putting (maybe from the sesame seeds?) and it's definitely too chewy to eat in one mouthful, but I loved the burst of melty chocolate in my mouth. The baby clamored for more, too.
It's funny how, with food, you can feel like you've just discovered something fabulous even though you're simply eating something people have been eating for a long time. This combo works so much better than I thought it would; it's never enticed me before.
The fennel I had was baby fennel, ordered on impulse from Fresh Direct. I sliced it thin, then tossed it with salt, orange-infused olive oil and chopped orange segments. The fennel was very celery-like, with that telltale hint of anise. The salt was key to keeping it from being too sweet. But it was crunchy, salty and sweet, and refreshing. No one else in my house would even try it, though.
