Grapefruit yogurt cake

I've had a grapefruit multiplication problem of late. I bought a dozen of them a few weeks ago, and while I've had almost one a day since, there's a mysterious handful left in my kitchen that just never goes away.

In a mild attempt at a citrus cull, I looked around for some grapefruit-themed recipes. I finally found this one, a Barefoot Contessa take on a slightly healthier pound cake, and opted to give it a go. I believe the original recipe calls for lemon, but grapefruit worked well, and I'd imagine good luck would follow with limes or even orange.

The result is a nicely textured cake that doesn't use any butter. It's moist and slightly sweet, with a good grapefruit flavour, though not as strong as I had hoped. I didn't make the glaze, because I found the grapefruit sugar mixture poured on when the cake's still warm to be enough.

Grapefruit Yogurt Cake
Adapted loosely from Ina Garten and found on Smitten Kitchen

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
3 extra-large eggs
3 teaspoons grated grapefruit zest (approximately one large grapefruit)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup freshly squeezed grapefruit juice

For the glaze:
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed grapefruit juice

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease an 8 1/2 by 4 1/4 by 2 1/2-inch loaf pan. Line the bottom with parchment paper. Grease and flour the pan.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 1 cup sugar, the eggs, grapefruit zest, and vanilla. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. With a rubber spatula, fold the vegetable oil into the batter, making sure it’s all incorporated. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester placed in the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup grapefruit juice and remaining 1 tablespoon sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is clear. Set aside.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pour the grapefruit-sugar mixture over the cake and allow it to soak in. Cool.

For the glaze, combine the confectioners’ sugar and grapefruit juice and pour over the cake.

Pan Chancho's ginger cookies

I was living in Kingston when the original Pan Chancho bakery opened up. A small offshoot of the successful Chez Piggy restaurant, the shop on Johnson served up loaves of fresh bread each day, as well as some take-home gourmet goodies.

I lived around the corner at the time, in a grubby basement apartment with mouldy walls and a kitchen sink that would occasionally back up, allowing us to witness what our upstairs neighbours had flushed down the drain earlier.

So, needless to say, a new bakery offering up wholesome bread was a bright spot in an otherwise dreary student existence. My roommate Julie and I jumped at the opportunity for an affordable foodie addition to our cooking repertoire. Actually, meals in our little William Street abode were pretty tasty, as I liked to cook and Julie was a talented chef too, whipping up lots of hearty New Brunswick fare like baked beans and a killer mac and cheese. But on the nights that it was too much effort to make a fuss in the kitchen, or those evenings with a double header of Beverly Hills 90210 and Melrose Place beckoned, or the Thursday night line up of Friends and a George Clooney-studded ER called our names (yes, we watched A LOT of TV) dinner was, quite frequently, a loaf of Pan Chancho bread and peanut butter. In fact, sometimes that was chased down with a bottle of White Zinfandel, because we considered ourselves early wine connoisseurs, and topped off with a dessert of Ganong Chicken Bones. It was the high life, I tell ya.

I don’t remember these ginger cookies on offer at Pan Chancho back then, but I have enjoyed them several times since during my day trips to Kingston. Pan Chancho is now in much bigger digs on Princess Street, and boasts its own fabulous restaurant and expanded bakery. (If you’re there for lunch, try the lamb and chickpea wrap – deelish!)

As previously mentioned on this blog, I’m a sucker for most things ginger, and these chewy cookies pack a lot of bite. I’m happy to say that they reproduce rather authentically at home, so I’m most pleased to have the recipe at last. I spruced up my batch with some chopped crystallized ginger for an extra element, but they're just as tasty without.


Get your dry ingredients together. Notice the massive amount of dried ginger? That's hot.

Cream your butter and sugar, then add in the molasses.

Roll out the dough into balls, and coat in remaining sugar. This gives the crackled finish to the cookies.

And here's the final product -- chewy and gingery. Great with a nice cup of tea, and cheaper than a roadtrip to K-town.

Ginger Cookies
From Pan Chancho Bakery cookbook, as reprinted in The Toronto Star

2 cups (500 mL) all-purpose flour

1 tbsp (15 mL) ground ginger

2 tsp (10 mL) baking soda

1 tsp (10 mL) ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp (2 mL) kosher salt

3/4 cup (185 mL) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1-1/4 cups + 2 tbsp (310 mL + 30 mL) granulated sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup (60 mL) fancy molasses

In medium bowl, whisk together flour, ginger, baking soda, cinnamon and salt.

In large bowl using electric mixer on medium, cream butter and 1 cup (250 mL) plus 2 tbsp (30 mL) sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in egg, scraping down sides of bowl. Add molasses; beat well. In three additions, beat in flour mixture just until incorporated.

Shape dough into 24 balls, each about 2 tbsp (30 mL). Roll balls in bowl with remaining 1/4 cup (60 mL) sugar. Place several inches apart on large, parchment-lined baking sheets. Bake 15 to 17 minutes in preheated 325F (160C) oven until just golden. (Cookies will spread to about 4 inches/10 cm.)

Makes 24 large cookies.

Good old Chilli con Carne

What's a Superbowl Sunday without chilli? Well the game wasn't on at my house, but the pot of chilli was.

I decided to try out Jamie Oliver's recipe for Chilli con carne. This came from his Ministry of Food book, which is simplified cooking for people who aren't great in the kitchen. The whole process started out positively, but it doesn't pack a whole lotta punch. For example, the recipe calls for one measly teaspoon of chilli powder. Maybe the Brits don't love hot chillis? I ended up adding much more chilli powder, but it's still hot what I would call a chilli with heat. It does, though, have some other interesting ingredients I've never added to chilli, including cumin and cinnamon, and it doesn't call for the beef to be browned first.

Start by cooking all the chopped veg. This recipe requires a lot of chopping, and I think I probably got bored and forgot to add in the garlic. Try to imagine it in this picture.

Grind up all your spices and get them ready.

In goes the ground beef. Grass fed from O'Brien farms in this case.

And here's the finished bowl, complete with a side of corn bread. Happy football!

Good old chilli con carne
From Jamie's Ministry of Food

ingredients
• 2 medium onions
• 2 cloves of garlic
• 2 medium carrots
• 2 sticks of celery
• 2 red peppers
• olive oil
• 1 heaped teaspoon chilli powder
• 1 heaped teaspoon
• ground cumin
• 1 heaped teaspoon ground cinnamon
• sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1 x 400g tin of chickpeas
• 1 x 400g tin of red kidney beans
• 2 x 400g tins of chopped tomatoes
• 500g good-quality minced beef
• 1 small bunch of fresh coriander
• 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
• 400g basmati rice
• 1 x 500g tub of natural yoghurt
• 1 x 230g tub of guacamole
• 1 lime

To make your chilli

Peel and finely chop the onions, garlic, carrots and celery – don’t worry about the technique, just chop away until fine.

Halve the red peppers, remove the stalks and seeds and roughly chop.

Place your largest casserole-type pan on a medium high heat.

Add 2 lugs of olive oil and all your chopped vegetables.

Add the chilli powder, cumin and cinnamon with a good pinch of salt and pepper.

Stir every 30 seconds for around 7 minutes until softened and lightly coloured.

Add the drained chickpeas, drained kidney beans and the tinned tomatoes.

Add the minced beef, breaking any larger chunks up with a wooden spoon.

Fill one of the empty tomato tins with water and pour this into the pan.

Pick the coriander leaves and place them in the fridge.

Finely chop the washed stalks and stir in.

Add the balsamic vinegar and season with a good pinch of salt and pepper.

Bring to the boil and turn the heat down to a simmer with a lid slightly askew for about an hour, stirring every now and again to stop it catching.

Parsnip & lemon soup

It's been a pretty white week, what with all the snow we received on Wednesday. I think I'm done with shovelling for a while, Mother Nature!

Anyway, in honour of the white weather, I thought I would post a white-ish soup, made of that winter staple of root veg -- the lowly parsnip.

It comes together quite easily, and while I made this with water, next time I will opt for chicken stock for a bit more flavour.

Start with a pound of 'snips. Luckily, they come by the pound in the bag, so it makes for convenient shopping.

Chop 'em up after they're peeled.

And zest a couple of lemons for flavour.

You're left with this after it has been blended. Enjoy with some crusty bread after you're finished shovelling.

Parsnip & Lemon Soup

From the Toronto Star

1 tbsp (15 mL) butter

1/2 cup (125 mL) diced Spanish onion *I used shallots

2 cups (500 mL) peeled, diced parsnips (about 1 lb/450 g)

4 cups (1L) chicken stock, vegetable stock or water

1 tbsp (15 mL) finely grated lemon zest (from about 2 lemons)

3/4 tsp (4 mL) fine sea salt, or to taste

In large saucepan over medium heat, melt butter until it foams. Add onions. Cook, stirring, 3 minutes to soften. Add parsnips and stock or water. Raise heat to high; bring to boil. Stir in zest. Reduce heat to medium. Simmer 15 minutes or until parsnips are tender. Remove from heat; cool slightly.

In blender or food processor, purée soup, in batches if needed. If a silky, smooth texture is desired, pass through medium strainer; discard solids. Season with salt. Serve in warmed bowls.

Makes about 4 servings (4 cups/1L).

Pomegranate dressing

I don't have any pre-made salad dressings in my fridge. In fact, I haven't for years. If you have some oil, a bit of vinegar and maybe some mustard, it's all you need to whip up a great tasting salad topper any time you want. Why spend money on those bottles of chemicals?

We had this dressing at Christmas as part of our non-traditional dinner (well, non-traditional for us in that it featured roast beef instead of turkey). It was a bit different, festively pretty and even fun to make.

Start by de-seeding a pomegrante. A new tip I learned from Nigella is to separate the seeds under water. It works well, and avoids all those squirts of red juice from landing all over your clothes, walls and white cupboard doors. The seeds end up sinking to the bottom of the bowl, and the white pithy parts float to the top, making for easy removal. Cool, huh?

Then pop the seeds in the blender with the oil and lemon juice and puree until almost smooth.

Next, strain out all the seedy bits.

And you're left with a smooth, tart and refreshing vinagrette. I made this day in advance and it kept well in a jar. Just shake it a bit before you dress your greens.

Pomegranate dressing
By Laura Calder (as seen on the Food Network)

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups pomegranate seeds
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 teaspoon lemon
salt and pepper

Directions
1.Place 1 cup of pomegranate seeds, olive oil and lemon in a blender. Pulse until ingredients are pureed. Strain through a fine sieve. Season with salt and pepper. Toss with mache and Belgian endive.

Foie gras fracas

One of the big stories in Ottawa this week is about the NCC's announcement that Martin Picard was bowing out from his much-hyped Winterlude dinner event. Before Christmas, local foodies were excited to learn that Picard would be cooking a multi-course feast at the Museum of Civilzation during the annual winter festival. Most of those dishes would feature foie gras: Picard's signature ingredient and something he champions whenever and wherever he can.

But the hoopla around Picard coming to the capital raised the ire of some local animal rights groups, who complained and whined to the NCC and threatened some rowdy demonstrations if Picard used the duck livers in his menu. The NCC gave in to the pressure and Picard ended up saying adios to O-town.

Good for him.

Look, I'm not even a fan of foie gras, having only had it twice in my life, but animal abuse issues aside, telling a chef like Picard not to use it is like telling an Italian cook not to use tomatoes. The NCC were wimps to give in to these protesters, but Picard was definitely right to stick to his culinary guns and refuse to cook under constraints. Eating animals isn't a pretty thing, but there's a reason we're at the top of the food chain. I'm no advocate for animal pain or suffering, but I'm not convinced the ducks Picard uses experience either. I'm glad Picard is staying put in Montreal, where his creativity can be appreciated by true food lovers, rather than being stifled by skittish bureaucrats who don't want to rock the gravy boat.

For a glimpse of Picard's creations, check out this clip of chef and author Tony Bourdain's trip to Au Pied de Cochon.