Kitchen life

I always had a fantasy of being a chef, because I like kitchen life.

In between digs right now, I'm missing my own, cozy kitchen.  Until the heat was switched off for summer a month ago, I would start my early weekend days with my knees leaned up against my heating unit, sipping strongly caffeinated tea and staring out onto the grass until my tea kettle started to boil.  When I popped open the rickety, wooden window, the apartment became suddenly fresh and chilly.  I would put on some music and make breakfast.  My Opa visited recently and told me the windows were bayerish (Bavarian), meaning they were big enough for a boyfriend to sneak in or me to sneak out.  They were big, at any rate.  Four feet wide.  

I'll cut the nostalgia though.  There was, of course, also plenty of food in the kitchen.  It will be August before I'm settled again (this time in an admittedly and significantly more northern locale).  But I'm excited for my new kitchen!

That's what I like to read.

"Gluten-free baked goods full of flavor."  You don't say.  No really.  You normally don't say.  Check out this article in the NY Times.  


I'd noticed -- even in my short time as a GF girl -- that my local supermarkets have transformed into mini Fresh Fields Whole Foods, that no longer does every one stare blankly at me when I somewhat sheepishly decline the bun on my burger, and in general that the consumer foods industry has begun to show more understanding.  But when the Times chose to comment on something more important, i.e. actual flavor in GF foods, I had to thank my good friend Ms. Ecology for passing along the article.  


This is a good thing.  And while it's got a long way to go, it's already showing up in strange places.  My favorite story is still from a local haunt in my college town known to everyone as the joint (you really couldn't call this anything but a joint) "where students, tourists, & townspeople meet," as they've so kindly pointed out on their roof in large, white, painted letters.  

Hell, check out the aerial view.

During one particular dining experience, a friend of mine mentioned that this place served gluten-free cakes.  Choosing among the different types of bacon (delicious or more delicious), I was taken aback by the neon sign on the door announcing their sale.  Probably the owner, I thought to myself.  Alas, the place for breakfast until closing is actually closing.  But I'm hoping the legacy (and the GF outreach) will go on!

Coquo ergo sum - I cook, therefore I am

After months of applications, admissions tests, and the like, coupled with a fact-finding expedition of what's going on in my gut, I have two pieces of news: 1) I'm going to law school.  Officially now.  2) My body is just much happier when I'm gluten-free, lactose-free (heretoforth known as GFLF).  That revelation of course complicates my equal-opportunity love of food.  Never fear.


For a while I just assumed I could continue to cook "normally" for anyone else I ate with and then scrounge up whatever tasteless morsel actually had the stamp of GFLF.  How miserable.  I've given that up and, in the interest of finally coming to terms with reality, will be clearing out my flour-laden products cupboards.  No more licking the batter from my fingertips.  No more temptation.  No more cheating.


Going lactose free -- as I've found over the past two years -- isn't all that difficult.  You can also take pills when you occasionally sneak a bite of dairy.  And you're [relatively] fine.  Eliminating gluten isn't all that simple.  Not only is there complete unawareness on the part of those around me (including doctors!) save Celiacs and Intolerants themselves, but gluten is in everything.  Throw out the cereal, the pasta, the bread, the bagels, the cookies, and everything explicitly flour based...and then throw out everything else that "may have been processed with wheat."  


This is an opportunity.  Without exception, every type of pre-packaged gluten substitute has been terrible.  The rice flour bread crumbles and falls apart as though it's been sitting out waiting to become a crouton.  The corn pasta has no flavor and the texture is off.  The cereal is boring (how many times can you eat Rice Chex or "Glutinos" wannabe Cheerios?).  [This all excludes actual alternatives, such as the rice noodles popular in so many Asian cultures.]  I think food should look and taste great.  What I'm saying is that somebody has got to get this right.  This is an opportunity to do better on my (our) own and feel better.


I also have friends (like Dr. Bodybuilder) that have gone GF for other reasons ("It's how our ancestors ate") and found the results to be miraculous (increase in ability to focus, weight loss, clear skin, better sleep...).  So this isn't restricted to proclaimed Glutinos.  It's for everyone.


But first, some vocabulary:


Gluten
A protein composite that's found in foods processed from wheat (and related species such as barley and rye).  Many (I'd bargain to say most) processed foods are processed with ingredients that include gluten or have exposure to gluten because of their processing facilities; this I'll call trace gluten.  Gluten intolerance can result in serious, long-term health problems (digestive and non-digestive) as a result of malabsorption if not addressed.  The cure: a strict, gluten-free diet for life.


Lactose
A disaccharide sugar present in milk.  As a general rule, the more liquid a dairy product is, the more lactose it contains; this creates a spectrum from cheese to milk, with yoghurt and butter somewhere in between.  Lactose intolerance results from the deficiency of the enzyme lactase, which aids in the digestion of lactose.  The cure: avoiding lactose or taking supplements such as Lactaid.


Explicit gluten
Bagels.  Bread.  Cereal.  Pasta.  The obvious culprits.  Personally, I do well when I eliminate explicit gluten.  I'm generally OK with trace, so if you're Celiac, know that my ingredients may contain trace gluten.

Explicit lactose

Imagine milk, butter, yoghurt, or cheese and you've got explicit lactose.  That of course means non-explicit lactose is baked or cooked into other foods, changing its molecular structure and [in general] the effects it has on your body.  Generally, explicit lactose is the only type of lactose that causes problems for Intolerants.  Note bene: Casein allergies, which are also directly related to milk and dairy products, are significantly different.  




And second, a lesson in [forcing your body to start] listening to your gut:





I'll be back at work (here) soon.

The Great Plantain Experiment: Fried vs. Baked

Today my undying love for potassium lead me to pit the plantain against its nemesis: the plantain.  Let me explain.  Plantains are great.  They’re like bigger, harder, cheaper, more versatile bananas.  They can be served sweet or salted, soft or hard, mashed or whole, and, as I’ve now put to the test, baked or fried.

As long as I’ve eaten plantains, I always thought you could only fry them.  Fitting neatly into my rule that I can eat as much fried food as I want as long as I cook it, that was fine by me.  But I had a few fiascos.  Oils fires.  “Blackened” (i.e. black) plantains.  Oil burns on my hands.  Oil stains on my clothes.  Not to mention feeling like someone should roll me into bed after eating them with dinner.  All this from a mere fruit?  Yes.  Well, a fried fruit. (Is that an oxymoron?) Ew.

So when I heard about baked plantains, I tried it out.  Several times.  The first few attempts were not great.  They were hard.  They were dry.  They were flavorless.  It’s been a few months now though and my many attempts have paid off.  I’ve finally got it down.

Having spent so much time eating baked plantains, I was curious to see if they were actually better than fried plantains or if I had just convinced myself of that with cognitive dissonance in subconscious reaction to the somewhat frightening fries.  This is my account of that experiment.

To bake:

Smear halved plantains with about ½ tablespoon of butter.  Season with cinnamon to taste.  Bake at 350 Fahrenheit for 25 minutes.

That looks like a lot of butter.  It's actually not.

To fry:

Cut plantains into short diagonals.  Fry until golden brown on both sides in ½ inch canola, sunflower, or vegetable oil once the oil has time to heat. 

Result: Yes.  It’s true.  The baked plantains are moister, sweeter, and best of all, healthier.  They’re less of a hassle to prepare and clean up and they reheat better too.  I doubt I’ll have a reason to return to fried plantains any time soon.  EAT THESE SOON.

Black Bean Brownies

Yes, my loyal readership, I’ve returned.  And bearing gifts.  After a daunting bit of a hiatus due to some necessary steps involving my “future” (let’s not talk about that right now), I’m determined to tell the world about what’s got to be my fave new rave: Black Bean Brownies.

These delectable morsels are tricky.  Most vegan baking delights involve applesauce, vinegar, and other odd ingredients that don’t seem to mesh exactly with the intent of the recipe.  Fear not.  Black bean brownies will change your view on black beans.  And brownies for that matter.

After making these, I ran a controlled experiment by serving two types of brownies: one regular, old batch and one black bean.  No one could hazard a guess near the truth.  The best estimate of the difference was that the black bean set had fudge.  Negative.  I want you to know, too, that I gave the regular old brownies a fighting chance.  I added an extra egg to make them cake-like and I tossed in chocolate chips.  Nonetheless, they were nowhere near as moist and rich in flavor as the black bean brownies.

In describing them on their own, one could say black bean brownies are denser and moister than regular, old brownies.  They even looked better in the pan and didn’t have the tendency to crack.  They’re healthier, given the use healthy bean fiber in place of partially hydrogenated oils like vegetable oil.  They’re not as sickeningly sweet either – which means you can eat more without feeling guilty or like you need to boycott the white menace sugar for a month.  Conveniently, you can make them from scratch or with a box if you prefer.  Just replace all wet ingredients (eggs, oil, water) with one can of black beans.

Give these things a shot.  They won’t let you down. 

Preheat oven to 350 Fahrenheit.

Drain one can of cooked (not seasoned or spiced) black beans.  Refill can (still full of beans) with water.  

Puree can contents for about one minute or until the mixture is evenly smooth.  Flecks of black bean are ok.  Chunks are not.

Whether using a mix or ingredients from scratch, spoon pureed mixture in with dry ingredients until thoroughly mixed.  This shouldn’t be more than 50-75 strokes.  Bake in a 9 x 11 in pan at 350 for 20-25 minutes.

Note: Cut the baking time on these brownies compared to regular, old batches.  They seemed to need significantly less time.

My next step is to try cakes with cannellinis.  Get ready.