My Great-Aunt Jan makes apple butter. Really, really good apple butter. Trouble is, she lives in Iowa, and I do not. Sometimes, when we’re lucky, there’s a box of it for us at Christmas – but in between times, we are left utterly apple butter-less. (Have you tried to find that stuff in the grocery store? Until this last year or so, I think I actually found it once, in a tiny locally-owned natural foods store. Not what I’d call accessible.)
Being the adventurous (*cough stubborn-and-overly-ambitious cough*) person that I am, I decided that I would learn to make it. I wrangled the recipe from a cousin of my mom’s a few years back, but was utterly flummoxed by the fact that it was a canning recipe. Canning was scary. Against all odds, the apple butter eluded me.
Flash forward to our late-summer trip to Maquoketa, during which I was determined to learn to make and can apple butter. So I did. (See aforementioned stubbornness.)
Aunt Jan gave us a great lesson in apple butter making, including a live demonstration of the mysterious “gel test” and a hands-on canning session. Aunt Sandy and my mom’s cousin Weezer reinforced these new skills with demonstrations of tomato and homemade ketchup canning. (Does everyone in Iowa can, or is it just my food-loving family?) I was, in a word, hooked.
See this thing? It's a canning sieve - and it makes the smoothest applesauce ever. Aunt Jan has one from goodness knows where, but my mom found a couple on eBay. Sweet!
In the months since my return to California, I’ve become a bit of a canning maniac. Jam, fruit butter, salsa, mustard, spaghetti sauce – aided and abetted by my mother, I’m obsessed.
As mouth-watering as Aunt Jan’s apple butter is, I really wanted to make a version with no added sugar, as I have wonky blood sugar problems and therefore try, when possible, to have low-sugar options around. This recipe is one my mom and I came up with, in cahoots with the lovely owner of Denver Dan’s Apple Ranch. (Side note: if you’re ever in the Sacramento/Tahoe region of California during the fall, you really must check out Apple Hill. It’s awesome.)
I won’t go into a whole canning how-to here – Ree at The Pioneer Woman Cooks has a great tutorial, and why try to fix what ain’t broke? Suffice to say it’s easy. Nothing to be afraid of. Just think of how much apple butter I could have eaten during those years of canning intimidation!
Unsweetened Apple Butter
Makes approximately 5 1/2-pint jars
5 1/2 pounds eating apples (I’ve used Galas and Fujis with great success – since there’s no added sugar, the sweetness of your apples will determine the sweetness of your apple butter. Also, I recommend purchasing slightly blemished apples at your local farmer’s market – they’re much cheaper, and they taste the same.)
32 oz. apple cider/unfiltered apple juice
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1/4 tsp ground or freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp vanilla
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees
- Prepare canning equipment
- Peel, core, and quarter apples (Note: mine are neither peeled nor quartered, but that’s because (a) my nifty canning sieve simultaneously purees and removes the peel from the cooked apples and (b) I used my Apple Master to core and slice my apples, which, while totally not essential, is very efficient and really entertaining.)
- In a large-ish saucepan, combine the quartered apples and the juice. Simmer over medium heat until apples are nice and soft.
- Remove pan from heat. Puree cooked apples, using a sieve, food processor, or immersion blender. Careful – they’re hot.
- Pour pureed apples into an oven-safe, wide, shallow pan – I’ve used a roasting pan and a risotto pan, both successfully.
- Stir in cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, and vanilla.
- Bake uncovered at 350 degrees, stirring every half hour or so, until the puree has reduced about 30% and is a rich, dark brown. At this point, you could perform the “gel test,” in which you put a small spoonful of the hot apple butter onto a very cold plate – if it doesn’t run much, and the liquid doesn’t seep away, it’s done. However, I’ve found that once the color is right, it’s pretty much good to go.
- Can in a hot water bath for 15 minutes (see the Pioneer Woman’s tutorial), or cool and freeze. Apple butter will last in the fridge for a couple of weeks, if it takes you that long to eat it.
As in, a biscuit recipe from one of my great grandmother’s cookbooks. Her junior high school home economics textbook, to be precise – published in 1915. It predates modern ovens, and so includes a chapter entitled, “The Heat For Baking,” which offers such advice as, “The heat of the oven for baking is a difficult matter for a beginner to determine. Testing the heat by a thermometer is not always practicable. Testing by the length of time one can bear the hand in the oven will vary with every hand that tries it.”
Can we, just for a moment, appreciate ovens that don’t require purposely scorching your hand to test for preheating?
Second-degree burns aside, however, these biscuits are kind of amazing. They’re crispy on top, fluffy in the middle, and they’re practically begging to be split in half and slathered in jam. I’ve doubled the amount of butter called for (from two tablespoons to four), because I think it makes the biscuits more tender, and because it’s just yummy that way. The recipe calls for a “hot, but not too hot, oven,” which as far as I can determine means about 400 degrees.
We’ll get to the recipe in a minute, but I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t share with you some of the gems of wisdom this little book has to offer.
My personal favorite falls under the heading “How to Use a Bathroom.” Thankfully, it doesn’t go into the graphic details (which I pride myself on knowing how to do without textbook instruction, thankyouverymuch), but concentrates on being “sure that you have left no trace of your personal use of the bathroom.” For example, “Always wipe the basin even if you have only washed your hands, and if you have been so careless as to slop water all about the marble, wipe it up.” How dare you be so careless! If you’re not yet properly chastised, try this: “Nothing betrays a lack of home training and of innate refinement so much as untidy personal habits. Avoid all carelessness in this respect in your daily home life.”
Please excuse me for a moment. There’s some laundry on the floor I feel suddenly moved to pick up.
Ingredients:
2 cups unbleached flour (The recipe calls for pastry flour, but I use unbleached as it’s most convenient.)
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons cold salted butter, cut into pieces
Approximately 1 cup of milk
- Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
- Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in a fine mesh sieve over a bowl, mix thoroughly, and sift.
- Using a pastry blender or two knives, cut the butter into the flour mixture until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.
- Pour in about 3/4 of the milk, and mix. You’re aiming for a stiff dough, so if it’s too dry, add the rest of the milk. It’s easier to err on the side of caution when adding liquid, as different flours will absorb different amounts of milk.
- “Toss it about on a well-floured board, knead it gently, but effectually, until it is smooth and will not stick…. There is a knack about it which comes with practice.” This makes it sound a lot scarier than it is. You’ll only need to knead it for 30 seconds to a minute, and if it sticks, just scrape it off the board and put a bit more flour down. Then, all of a sudden, it will become satisfyingly smooth and you can stick your tongue out at the mean book.
- Using your fingers or a rolling pin, pat the dough into a round about 1/2 an inch thick.
- Using a 2-inch(ish) biscuit cutter (or a well-floured glass rim), cut out your biscuits. “Cut economically, that there may be but few trimmings.”
- Pat your trimmings back into a 1/2 inch-thick round, and repeat previous step.
- Place biscuits on a cookie sheet (lined with foil or parchment paper, if you want to minimize dish-washing) and let them stand for at least 10 minutes.
- Bake for 10-12 minutes, until they just start to brown on top.
- Brush the tops with a little melted butter, if you like.
- Protect your fresh biscuits from the likes of Chris, who will eat 8 of them as soon as your back is turned.
- Makes 12-15ish biscuits, depending on how thickly you cut them.
Final biscuit wisdom: “Now because these biscuits are not two or three inches high when they are done, do not think they are not light or right. Remember the biscuits were thin when cut, and if they have doubled in height that is sufficient; they are more wholesome when they split into two thin crusts, than when so thick that there is an excess of the softer inside portion, which, while it may be pleasing to some palates, is less digestible than the crusts.”
A few months ago, my large, lovable, and slightly nutty family flew to the small town in Iowa where my grandparents grew up for a family reunion. Between the big reunion, boat rides on the river, tours of places with historic family importance, big family barbecues, and getting rapidly acquainted with dozens of awesome second cousins and great-aunts and -uncles, there wasn’t a lot of time left to take pictures of the lovely town – but I did manage to drag myself out of bed before sunrise one morning to wander around town with my camera, and I took some quick shots of interesting things here and there. Welcome to Maquoketa.
On cousin Weezer's front porch.
My mom’s first cousin Louise (Weezer) has a great, quirky house. My mom and sister and I stayed there, at the top of the steepest flight of stairs I’ve ever climbed. Her front porch is full of plants, Harley Davidson memorabilia, and this really, really cool trunk.
More of the very cool trunk
It seems like everyone in Maquoketa grows tomatoes, and everyone has home-canned tomatoes on their pantry shelves. (More about canning in future posts!) These lovely green ones were in my Aunt Jan’s backyard.
My Aunt Sandy has the neatest front door ever. If I could have any front door in the world, this is the one I’d want. Aunt Sandy, you’d better keep an eye on that door.
Maquoketa at sunrise is a beautiful thing. It’s silent and deserted. The lawns are bright green and lush, and the houses are all white. The buildings downtown are 19th century brick, and gave me a serious case of the itchy shutter finger.
I can’t wait to go back.
Have you ever had the experience of legitimately putting something off because something else was massively more pressing, but when the Very Pressing Thing was over, feeling too overwhelmed by the Put-Off Thing to resume? Well, that’s what’s been happening around these parts:
Very Pressing Thing 1: California Bar Exam. Brutal. Hope I never have to do it again. Won’t know until November 20 at 6 pm. Only sort of counting down.
Very Pressing Thing 2: Moving. I am no longer a San Francisco resident – Chris and I now live a bit south of the city, in the absolutely wonderful City of San Mateo.
Very Pressing Thing 3: Starting my first real job. I am now a real, honest-to-goodness lawyer (not an attorney – I won’t be until I’m admitted by the State Bar of California), working for a non-profit. Long hours, great people, important work. Good stuff.
Put-Off Thing: Um, that would be this blog. Sorry, guys. The good news is that I’ve stored up lots of blog fodder! The bad news is that I haven’t written any of it down, so it’s anyone’s guess how much of it I’ll remember. (You can’t win ‘em all, right?)
So first thing’s first. I have lots of people and things to thank for getting me through (and putting up with my crabbiness and generally doing me lots of favors during) my excruciating 2 1/2 months of bar prep, moving, and starting work, but the two things of interest here are:
Thing of Interest 1: Toast with Cream Cheese, Fried Egg, Tomato, and Basil (or Rosemary)
Mmmmmmmmm
I am only a recent convert to the way of the cream cheese, so this tasty little morsel was especially exciting for me. However, Lily is a long-time cream cheese lover, and we both practically lived on this for a couple of weeks toward the end, so I have a firm faith in its universal appeal. Yummy. Quick. Proteinous.
Thing of Interest 2: Lady Eleanor Entrelac Stole
Lily had the brilliant idea of a bar-study knit-along – something not too boring, but brainless enough to knit on during bar lectures, and something that would take the whole summer to complete. With the help of the good people on the Ravelry forums, we settled on the Lady Eleanor Entrelac Stole (Ravelry link) from Scarf Style. Lily got tired of hers pretty quickly, but it turned out to be the perfect summer project for me. I’m still plugging away on it, since I’m using fingering-weight yarn and size 3 needles, but the end is in sight! I think it’ll be the perfect thing to wrap around my shoulders in my sometimes very chilly office.
I’ve got more to tell you, but it’ll have to wait for now. I’ll be back!
*Thanks to Lily for the inspiration for this post
As it turns out, studying for the bar exam is time consuming and energy-sucking. Who’d have thought?* All this frantic memorization of contracts/torts/criminal procedure/etc. leaves me not much time for the good stuff. Case in point: knitting. Therefore, meet my new best friend.
The garter stitch dishcloth.
I’m still plugging along on a couple of other projects, but I badly needed something portable and entirely mindless to keep my hands busy during the 4- (and occasionally 
hour lectures I’m attending everyday. My friend Lily, who is also currently studying for the bar exam, suggested a bar-study knit-along, but we haven’t had a spare moment to come up with a good project.** In a moment of desperation, I grabbed one of my many, many balls of worsted-weight cotton and some size-6 needles and cast on, and I haven’t stopped since.
I’m not totally sure what I’m going to do with the resulting mountain of dishcloths, since my own kitchen drawers are already stuffed with them.
Anyone need a dishcloth?
* Just in case anyone’s confused, I am being facetious. Obviously I knew approximately what I was getting into. It’s just a bit more… frenetic than I’d anticipated. You can’t really appreciate the madness until you’ve seen the assignment schedule – not a single day off between mid-May and the end of July.
** Lily is coming to visit this weekend, and we’ve already planned a trip to Imagiknit. Hopefully, my next “Brainless Bar Study Knitting” post will be a little more interesting.
Lawyerly Disclaimer: There is nothing spectacular about these crepes. I post this recipe not because it is shocking and innovative, nor because I am a crepe expert. It is not, and I am not. In fact, I’m not particularly good at making crepes. I say again: there is nothing spectacular about these crepes. Except one thing.
Um, please excuse the messy stove. It's been a busy week. It's clean now.
Chris likes them. This is nothing short of a HUGE culinary victory for me, as Chris is (to put it mildly) very picky, and would usually rather have frozen mac and cheese for dinner than anything else. There are some things I’ve made that he’ll tolerate, and some that he thinks are “alright.” But mostly, cooking for Chris has been an unequivocal failure. (Yes, I realize that including the word “mostly” before the word “unequivocal” makes it no longer unequivocal, but bear with me. I’m going for effect here.)
And the last thing in the world I expected him to respond to with a “Hey! This is really good!” was crepes. See, he usually doesn’t like them. (Are you surprised?) He thinks that they’re girly food, and that they’re too eggy. It was only by tempting him with the mozzarella filling that I was able to manipulate him into trying a bite. And he liked it.
Color me floored.
Pizza Crepes (adapted from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian)
My apologies for the lack of quantities for the filling – it all just depends on how stuffed you want your crepes, and what sorts of things you like.
Makes 8ish crepes (Though this will vary depending on how thick you make yours. One crepe, alongside a salad, was plenty for dinner for me.)
Also, if you’re not too concerned with making “perfect” crepes, these are remarkably quick and easy to make.
For the crepes:
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
Pinch of salt
1 1/4 cups milk (I used plain soymilk, because that’s what I had, and it was perfectly tasty.)
2 eggs
2 Tbs butter
Cooking spray
For the filling:
Grated mozzarella cheese
Pizza sauce, marinara sauce, or pesto sauce (I cheated and used pasta sauce from a jar.)
Black olives, sliced
Whatever other toppings you like on pizza
Prepare the crepes
- Whisk together all ingredients (Except, obviously, the cooking spray.) until smooth and pourable – you want it a bit thinner than pancake batter. You can add more milk or water if it’s too thick.
- Let the batter sit in the fridge for a while, if possible – you could even let it sit there overnight. (Hint: I’ve got leftover batter from last night that I’m planning to use with grilled peaches and maybe a little brown butter today – yum!)
- Heat an 8-10 inch nonstick skillet over medium-ish heat – careful here, because if the pan is too hot, you won’t be able to get the batter to spread thin enough before it starts cooking. Not that that’s a huge problem – you’ll just have more of a savory pancake than a really thin crepe. And what’s wrong with that?
- Spray pan with cooking spray (repeat this before each crepe), and pour about 2/3 -3/4 cup of batter into the middle of the pan. This makes a thicker crepe than what you’d get at a creperie, but I think it holds up better to the substantial filling. Swirl the pan around until the batter forms just a thin layer.
- Wait a minute or two, or until the top of the crepe looks dry. Then lift up one edge with a spatula in one hand and the fingers of the other hand, and flip it over. It’s really not that scary. Cook the second side for maybe a minute – you don’t want it crispy. Note: Mark Bittman says that everyone, even professional chefs, mess up the first crepe. Think of it as a cooking snack.
- While it’s still in the pan, spread a couple tablespoons of sauce on the bottom half of the crepe. Top with as much cheese as looks satisfactory, followed by the other toppings of your choice. I like to finish with a sprinkle of oregano, garlic powder, and salt, just for pizazz.
- Gently lift the top half of the crepe and fold it over the half with the filling. Then, using your fingers and the spatula, fold it in half again, so that it forms a wedge shape.
- Eat. And remember that even if it looks ugly, it’s darn tasty.
P.S. – For sweet crepes, you can either add a little sugar (1 Tbs for the whole recipe) to the batter, or just use it as-is. May I recommend Nutella and sliced bananas for filling?
I obviously did not take this picture - thanks to my parents for coming armed with cameras!
I graduated! For the first time since I was 4 years old (2 1/2 if you count preschool), I am not a student. The experience is somewhat disorienting – I’m elated, exhausted, nostalgic, and terrified.
I’ve been told that to be called an attorney, I must first pass the bar – but to be called a lawyer, I only need graduate from law school.
I’m a lawyer.
Woah.
Let’s get something straight: I don’t like snakes. I didn’t grow up with them, rarely see them, and while I know and appreciate that they keep us from being overrun by rodents, they pretty much freak me out. I don’t even like seeing one on on the computer or TV screen.
I’m visiting my sister right now, the one who lives on an organic farm in Southern California, and wildlife is sort of a fact of life here. Birds, bees, and yes, snakes – though I’ve been lucky enough to have never seen one on my visits. That all changed this morning, though, when I discovered an enormous coachwhip snake (which I’ve been assured are not dangerous) slithering across the patio. My brother-in-law, Bo, and my three-year-old nephew thought it would be an excellent idea to catch the thing and hold it in a terrarium to show visitors – I cowered inside while they wrestled it into the tank.
The snake sat in the terrarium for a couple of hours, after which Bo and his dad decided it should probably go free. They carried it out to the driveway, while I followed anxiously asking them to make sure it didn’t go into my car, which was parked out front. They both laughed, said there’s no way that would ever happen, and told me I shouldn’t worry. They released the snake, which sped off – guess where?
That’s right. Straight up into the undercarriage of my car.
And now it won’t come out.
I promised a second post of Yosemite photography a while ago, but things sort of got lost in the shuffle of finals. Better late than never, though, I suppose. Sadly, these are not super awesome images, but the point of the photography portion of this blog is learning, right? So bear with me.
In the spring, when the falls are full of water, they create so much mist that when the sun is at the right angle, there’s a rainbow. Every morning. Like clockwork. I really can’t think of a better way to start a day in Yosemite than with a walk to the Lower Yosemite Fall to see the rainbow – but be warned: this year, it was freezing. Literally. See the mist frozen on the tree branches?
This image is just kind of boring. I feel like it needs something to spice it up – an interesting foreground, warmer light, something. I’m just not sure how I could have accomplished that. A foreground is tricky here, since to see the rainbow you have to stand on the bridge just below the base of the fall – not very conducive to interesting foregrounds. Anyone have any thoughts about ways I could have made this scene pop?
Like Yosemite Fall, Bridalveil also creates a rainbow at this time of year – only this one’s in the late afternoon. You can see it first at Tunnel View, beginning with an orange glow down at the base of the fall, and gradually moving upward. Then, later, you can see it from the parking lot at the base of the trail to Bridalveil Fall.
This shot was taken from Tunnel View. Like the image before it, this one seems to fall sort of flat. An interesting foreground would have been much more possible here than at Lower Yosemite Fall, if I’d had time to find it. Unfortunately, we arrived when the rainbow had already traveled halfway up the fall, and I didn’t have time to consider my options. Poor planning – oops.
The rainbow is pretty cool though, isn’t it?
Please excuse the lighting in these photos. It was dark outside, and, well, my kitchen lighting is the pits.
Mark Bittman is my personal culinary hero, for taking foods that I thought were too complicated to bother with at home and making them simple enough for a casual weeknight dinner. Case in point: dal. I love dal, but all of the recipes I’ve seen are full of spices I’d never heard of and that I’d have to visit an Indian grocery to buy. Now, I’m sure those recipes make wonderful dals, and I really should get acquainted with a local Indian market anyway, but since I’m just finishing law school and am about to start studying for the bar I think I can safely say that that ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.
Enter Mark Bittman and my new bible: How to Cook Everything Vegetarian. Everything that his recipe for “Simplest Dal” called for I had in my kitchen, except for the dried ancho chiles – and I just substituted crushed red pepper with very satisfactory results.
This stuff is seriously yummy.
The paratha (flaky Indian-style flatbread) are also easy, and they’re really fun to make. And they’re super tasty with the dal.
See? I told you they were fun to make.
Simplest Dal (from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian)
The original recipe says this serves 4, but as a main course with paratha, it was just more than enough for 2 of us.
(The original recipe calls for an optional 2 Tbs cold butter or peanut oil to be stirred in just before serving – I didn’t notice a flavor difference after adding butter, and I’d rather save the calories, but add it if you must.)
1 cup dried red lentils (you can use yellow split peas, if you prefer)
2 Tbs minced or finely grated fresh ginger (I actually never peel mine. And you know what? I’ve never noticed a difference.)
1 Tbs minced or finely grated garlic
4 cardamom pods (confession: I actually hijacked some from a nice loose tea I had on hand.)
1 Tbs mustard seeds
2 cloves
1 tsp cracked black pepper
1 ancho or other mild dried chili (or crushed red pepper, to taste)
Salt
Several chopped tomatoes (optional, but very tasty)
Chopped fresh cilantro for garnish
- Combine all ingredients except cilantro and salt in a saucepan, and cover with about an inch of water (If you’re using a very wide pan, use less. But it’s not very scientific.)
- Cook over medium-ish heat at a steady simmer for about half an hour, salting to taste as it cooks
- During the last few minutes of cooking, add the tomatoes if you’re using them.
- Remove the cloves and cardamom pods, and adjust seasoning to taste. Garnish with cilantro.
- Eat. Try not to get it all over your face when you’re licking the bowl clean. (Am I the only one who has that problem?)
Paratha (Flaky Indian-Style Flatbread) (adapted from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian)
Makes 8-12 parathas
Warning: You will need a rolling pin or rolling pin-esque device (I’ve used a tall glass on its side). But do not be frightened! Use just a little flour to keep it from sticking, and it’s really very easy. This dough isn’t sticky at all.
Also, these are best served fresh, so if you don’t think you’ll eat them all, you can freeze half the dough (see below) for a week-ish. I defrosted mine for about 5 minutes in the microwave with excellent results. However, if you do have leftovers, they’re fine the next day. Just wrap them in waxed paper and leave them on the kitchen counter.
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
4-ish Tbs melted butter or neutral oil
- Stir together both flours and salt
- Add about 3/4 cup of water, stirring with a wooden spoon. When the mixture gets too difficult to stir, roll up your sleeves and use your hands. If it’s too dry, add a little more water (just a bit at a time) until it’s slightly sticky and forms a ball. If it’s too wet (it probably won’t be), add a tablespoon of flour at a time until it’s the right consistency.
- Shape dough into a ball (you might want to get your hands a little floury first), and let it sit for at least 20 minutes and up to several hours. At this point, I froze half the batch for later with no trouble.
- Pinch off pieces of dough – this recipe should make 8 to 12 parathas. On a lightly floured surface, roll each piece into roughly a 4-inch circle. Brush with melted butter or oil.
- Roll up the disk “like a cigar,” and then roll it into a coil, a la Princess Leia’s hair. Or cinnamon buns.
- Line a plate or basket with a clean dish towel to wrap the finished parathas in – this will keep them hot and fresh-tasting.
- Put a griddle or cast-iron pan (you could probably use nonstick, but I haven’t tried that, so no guarantees) over medium heat. When it’s hot, on a lightly floured surface roll one of the Princess Leia coils into a thin circle – maybe 5 or 6 inches in diameter. Throw it into the pan for 3-5 minutes, until it’s lightly browned. Brush the top side with oil or butter, and then flip it over to brown the second side for a few minutes.
- Repeat for all parathas.
