Andy's Fairfield Granola

I bought a small bouquet of tulips the other day. They were singing to me, their yellow tinged lips and ruby petals were too pretty not to bring back home. They’re sitting on my dining table by the window, happily soaking up the bright rays of sunlight. It’s March and also that time of year when you start cursing why there is the snow still lying on the ground, and whining about wearing boots when you would rather break out those sandals you bought last year. On the upside, the days are getting longer and by the time I get home from work, the sky is still streaked with brilliant shade of gold. I’m excited to strip off to break away from the biting cold. Spring is here people! Spring!

I’ve been eating this for the past few weeks and don’t think I could ever get tired of it. There’s everything I want in the morning in this granola: wholesome, crunchiness filled with roasted nuts and chewy, dried fruit. Granola sprinkled over plain yogurt makes my insides feel happy and healthy. I’ve made granola many times before, but there’s usually too much oil or sugar and it makes a breakfast food taste more like dessert than something to start your day off right. Nigella’s recipe uses applesauce to help glue the ingredients together, ground cinnamon and ginger to give it extra oomph of flavour and only a moderate amount of sugar and fat to make this granola even better.  

I love that granola is also customizable to your tastes. Throw in any nuts, seeds, flavourings, spices, dried fruit as you please. I’m an almond and coconut advocate and made sure there was plenty of it in this batch. This recipe makes a boatload of granola and I’m still working through of it. 

In other news, I’m published! In PRINT!! I wrote a piece for Acquired Taste, a magazine that features beautiful photography and inspiring food stories. It feels pretty awesome to have my name in the same magazine as Christina Tosi, the pastry chef of Milk. I’m stoked for the next issue. 

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Recipe here!

Acorn Squash Loaf with Streusel Topping

I’m not proud of this loaf. For days it was left untouched on the counter, still nestled in the loaf pan, bundled in parchment paper. It was a beautiful thing the moment I took it out from the oven, a golden sparkly masterpiece, but as it cooled, its spine caved in like an ugly, oblong crater. Even its taste, to me, was lackluster. It lacked that oomph, that spark, that oooh lala! that makes it irresistible to share. 

The recipe was intriguing, it required you to shred raw squash into the batter, something I haven’t heard of and was eager to try. But unless you’re gung-ho about tediously peeling the damn ridges of a squash, don’t bother. Raw squash just isn't the same as it is roasted. Instead, this loaf would have win more popular votes if it included roasted squash to reap its maximum flavor, I'd also double the amount of spices for an extra wallop of flavor. 

The best part of this squash loaf is the streusel topping. It’s not only pretty to look at, but the delicate crumbs add a sweet, grainy texture, giving the loaf just a whisper of sweetness. I wrapped up two thick slices in tin foil for a dear friend who ate them as if he had been on a deserted island for days, exchanging only a few words in between hungry bites, which I take as a good sign. It actually isn't too bad, in fact, I think they would taste even better smeared with peanut butter or if you got it, Speculoos.

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Whole Wheat Speculoos Snacking Cake (almost)

 
Around this time last year, I was strolling through the beautiful Jardin des Tuillieres in Paris with my closest friend, all the while still screaming in my head, OHMYGOD I’M IN PARIS!! Then, just as the sun was setting, we set out to locate our mandatory pre-dinner snack: extra large scoops of milky gelato.

My Europe trip was without a doubt one of the best trips I’ve had, though it wouldn’t have been the same without my friend Milos. We get along like nutella and bananas and our trip brought us even closer. To this day, we still joke about unforgettable moments from our trip, including the time he lost his glasses in the wave pool at the Gellért Baths and how we desperately dove into the deep-end endless times, lest he be blind for the rest of our trip, only to find out someone was kind enough to leave it with the lifeguard forty-five minutes ago. 

Milos is one not only a great travel buddy, but an amazing friend as well, he’ll listen to me cry, rant, rave, and go off on a tangent about anything, he'll even stay on Skype video chat after I’ve accidentally fell asleep. He’s the only person I know who can make me laugh so hard I lose control of all my bodily fluids. Despite living six hours apart, Milos does a great job of staying in touch, something I’m wholeheartedly thankful for. We met at a mutual friend’s chocolate fondue party (a good kind of friend to have, in case you don’t have one yet), I was attracted to his wild mop of curls and invited him to a dinner party I was hosting the following week, and since then, we’ve bonded over many more meals, snacks, and desserts (SO many desserts).

One favourite food that we discovered in Europe was Speculoos. Oooh, Speculoos, it’s like music to my ears. If you haven’t tried it already, I beg you to cancel all your future plans and make it your new life goal to get a jar of this cookie spread with a sticks-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth texture and the sensational taste of a cinnamony, gingery, and warm spice. Put simply, pure awesome. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about Europe and Speculoos and for a while wanted to make a cake out of it, so this is what I came up with. Milos, a Certified Speculoos Purist would condemn this, declaring it a fraud, “Liar! This ain’t Speculoos at all!” I know it’s not the real thing, but it's definitely Speculoos-inspired, and that to me, is good enough. 

The cake turned out to be exactly what I hoped for: airy, light, not too sweet and easily shared among friends. I brought half the loaf to work and was immediately greeted with big toothy smiles from my colleagues, I kept reasonably sized snacking pieces in a tin box that sat behind my desk and whenever someone popped it open, the room filled with the warm, inviting spices of Speculoos: cinnamon, ground ginger, and ground cloves. A thick slice is good on its own, but it’s even better slathered with a little lot of Speculoos, something I’m sure Milos would approve. 

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Pear, Pistachio and Ginger Blondies

Meet my grandpa (or in Cantonese, my yeye). He passed away more than five years ago, I didn’t even go to the funeral, I was in school and the ceremony was in Hong Kong. My dad went alone instead. This photo was taken at Centre Island, when I was four and attached to neon green objects (note: polka dot capris and tennis balls) and also very close to my grandpa (who breathes coolness with his shades and coke). 

Yeye was a quiet, kind-hearted man. You would have liked him, maybe even spent an afternoon watching cartoons like Bugs Bunny and Tom and Jerry while splayed out on the carpet. He’s the kind of grandpa that would pick you up from school at 3pm every weekday and walk the thirty minutes back home. No matter what the weather conditions were, be it sunny or thick snow that piled to knee height, he still walked with you because that’s what families do (and when both parents are working). He took you home despite how you purposely delayed the walk to play in the snow, or you ‘accidently’ have to tighten your boots or you spotted 'something' in the snow.

But once, he told on me. He ratted out to my mom that I ate snow, and not just any snow, but snow straight from the sidewalk (hey, I was curious!). So much for being my best friend. My mom threw a fit, yelled at me for not knowing the difference between clean and dirty and punished me by forcing me to write Chinese poems 50 times over. Yuck.

When he wasn’t being a snitch, he would give in to my pleas for candy. My parents rarely gave in to my desires for fancy packaged candy since they had zero nutrients save for sugar and corn syrup. When I pointed at fruit gushers, I got a pink gumball that lost its flavour within a minute of chewing. I even tried to trade my seaweed at snacktime for a teeny piece of Fruit Roll-Ups from the blond girl in pigtails. I lived a sad candy-deprived childhood.

So, with no sweets at home, my yeye gave me a bowl and filled it with three spoonfuls of sugar. I crushed the sugar into white powder, smashing a spoon against the table, then dabbed my fingers before licking them clean, anything to prolong my treat. 

If he was here today, I think he would be proud that I moved on from eating snow to making my own treats, like these blondies. Sitting in the cakey, soft cookie-like batter are chewy bits of dried pear along with crunchy nuts, not to mention the spicy kick of crystallized ginger (which I lurve), a combination that would make any grandparent happy.

This recipe is from Martha Stewart and also where these treasures were born. I made these blondies last week for a friend’s birthday and gave some away to other friends too. One friend in particular sneaked a bite for breakfast, mumbled how yummy it was because it wasn’t too cloying, returned it to its foil packaging, went on to eat two bowls of cereal and milk for a real breakfast and then without missing a beat, reached for the blondies again for what I can only assume was dessert for breakfast. I approve.  

By the way, happy Chinese new year! May the new year bring you and your family happiness and prosperity. I just got home from a very filling dinner of roast chicken and steamed fish marinated in a ridiculously scrumptious tomato and coconut broth. In other words, may the new year bring you lots of good food too.

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Spicy Chai Latte

I spend most of my weekdays at the computer. I sit next to a window that faces west, so on a clear night like today, I take a break from studying to watch the sun dip below the horizon, leaving behind purple, pink and orange streaks across the cerulean sky. It’s a little different every night as the clouds dabble with the dramatic effect of shadows and light. I catch the show around 5pm and its definitely a highlight of my day.

So far, this month has been odd. The air is nippy with a bitter chill in the gusty winds, and then just as you’re about to complain that winter ain’t too far away, the weathergods tease you with remarkably sunny and warm temperatures. So warm in fact, I can leave the house with just two layers and a scarf tied loosely around my neck. It’s November people! Then there are some days when it’s miserable and gloomy outside, water droplets pitter patter on the window and on the street, people dash for cover, escaping the rain that failed to give any warning whatsoever.

On these cold yucky days I pile on layers of cotton pajamas and furry socks and a thick sweatshirt just to stay warm. I also saunter to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee topped with frothy milk, then, last week it struck me that I have yet to make some chai. Tea spiked with ginger, cardamom, cloves, black peppercorns and cinnamon, a combination sure to warm my toes. A while ago, I made an apple crumble and had planned to make some chai tea using the same spices but I never got around to it since I was distracted by a birthday every week.

  

I’ve made homemade chai before yet I could never find the right ratio of spices that I enjoyed. Like Goldilocks, I found the chai too bland, too watery, lacked that kick, or just didn’t taste right. Chai to me (the way I like it and not necessary how it is made traditionally) should be based on a deep earthy flavour from the black tea, then layered with homey spices that commingle to tickle every nerve in your body.

Sometime last week, bundled in my pajamas, I was prompted to turn on the kettle and pull out the necessary spices from my pantry. The whole process took no more than 20 minutes: I bashed the spice mixture, tossed them into the saucepan along with hot milk and let them steep. Before long, I held a steaming mug of chai in my hands, satisfied with the tea, the blend of spices, and the touch of sweetness from the honey. No amount of rain falling from murky clouds could bother me and I promise this chai is sure to enliven your senses too.

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Recipe here!

Chai-Spiced Apple Crumble

In my undergrad years, my roomie and I lived on the Celestial Seasonings Bengal Spice herb tea. It was caffeine free, ergo, bedtime beverage approved. We went through a box in just a week, infusing our breaths with the comforting, homey scents of cinnamon, ginger, cloves and cardamom. It’s a surprise we didn’t empty the box sooner, since Montreal winters are famous for plummeting to -40°C. 

 

I was inspired with the idea of a chai spiced dessert using the bounty of apples this fall. But I’m not too keen on warm fruit. Warm pies make me cringe. Grilled pineapples make me shudder. Hot crepes with soft banana slices make me gag. There’s something about the texture of cooked fruit that I have major issues with, I prefer eating fruit plain and cold.

I can’t say I never cook with fruit, since I like to showcase the best of what the season has to offer. If I do bake with fruit, I make sure that the dessert is served at room temperature, like this blueberry galette or this peach clafouti.

But I digress. This apple crumble goes beyond the usual addition of cinnamon in the crumble mixture. Here, a flurry of other ground spices joined the oat-crumble topping: ginger, cloves, and cardamom, similar flavourings as the Bengal Spice tea. When I massaged butter into pea-sized bits with the rolled oats, puffs of flour filled the air, tickling my nose with the spices. I chopped up apples, tossed in sugar and cornstarch (to help thicken the sauce), dumped the crumble mixture on top and baked it at 425°F. In half an hour, my nose was more than just tickled; it was seduced with the sweet perfume of apples and spices.   

The pan bubbled and squeaked with hot fruit juices as I pulled it out of the oven. I waited impatiently for it to cool, but unfortunately, the apples turned out too syrupy sweet (from excess of sugar, but Eureka! Apple crumble dolloped on plain yogurt makes a superb breakfast!). On the bright side, the topping transformed into beautiful crunchy, nubby bits of gold, the pungent mix of spices hugged the apples in all the right places, giving it that exotic zing, that hit of something different other than the old stand by of cinnamon and apples. 

I wonder if I make crumble only for the topping, which I could eat all day long, especially if it’s spiked with chai--I just couldn’t refuse.

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Speculoos cookies

My dearest Speculoos,

It was love at first sight. There you stood quietly, among your friends on the gleaming aisles of Le Grand Epicerie, stacked neatly, row after row, waiting to be devoured. Your ribbed red lid, your perfect round curves, the label that spelled out your glorious name: Speculoos.

My fingers shook with glee as I undid your cap, tore open the foil seal, revealing the most gorgeous caramel color I've ever laid my eyes on. Impatiently, I dipped my forefinger into your glossy, soft, luscious insides, and brought you to my lips. Oh! How you stole my heart. You were sweet! You were sticky! (akin to peanut butter, with a little less goo) And the best part of all, you had that kick of spice. It took me a while to figure it out, but lo and behold, it was cinnamon. You're scrumptious on bread. You're magnificent on a spoon. You're the sunshine in my mornings, afternoon and night. 

You accompanied me on Parisian picnics, kept me happy on afternoon snacks in Prague, and filled me up on many breakfasts in Budapest. So you can imagine how petrified I was when your jar held nothing but a few dregs of Speculoos left. You can't be bought in Canada and buying you on the internet costs just as much as the shipping (!!) BUT then Dorie Greenspan, that lovely lady, came out with this recipe. When we first met, you were a spread, thick and viscous, the consistency of nutella. I'll do anything to taste you again, even if it means in the form of a cookie.

So I mixed and kneaded dough to produce little Speculoos cookies to honor our love affair. I was giddy with excitement, dancing on my tippy toes as I watched you turn golden in the oven. Your irresistible cinnamony scent wafting through my home brought tears to my eyes. You were nearly done! Only one more minute till the timer announces your arrival! My own homemade Speculoos! Come to mama!

HM MMM! You were fine. Fine like a hot sexy lady in hot sexy stilettos. You are crispy, sweet little bites of pure happiness. I would have preferred you with a bit more feistiness (ground ginger and cloves), but you are beautiful just the way you are.

I heart you Speculoos.

Yours forever,

Jane

P.S. You are the epitome of beauty, just like this linen tea towel I won from Athena Pilchta's giveaway, courtesy of Linea Carta! (Thanks Athena!)

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Recipe here!

Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger

One of my favorite things about baking isn't the methodical measuring and mixing of ingredients, nor is it the pouring of thick, glossy batter into a greased pan, but the sharing of the goods. As I wrap them in foil to give away to friends, I imagine how their lips turn upwards into a smile, how their eyes flash with excitement, how some people unfurl the cookie wrapping and without missing a beat, stuff it into their mouths, complimenting me mid-crunch, followed by a cascade of crumbs.

My mom falls in the latter category. If I made cake, she will declare it the best thing she ever ate, without even biting into it. She will wield her fork not at one slice, but at two slices of cake, demanding a glass of milk to wash it down.


With equal authority, mom will push me to make banana bread. There's always a familiar pattern, beginning with her incessant scolding. First goes: Eat the bananas! They're going bad! Then: why aren't you eating them? Are you saving them for something else? And finally: For goodness sakes, the bananas are moldy, make banana bread now!

And I thought I was impatient. Sometimes I wonder if my mom intentionally buys a superfluous amount of bananas.

I've discovered a new banana bread recipe, though not really “new” per se, as I've dog-earred Molly's recipe for years now and just baked it last week. But I hope you agree that you can never be short of banana bread recipes in your arsenal.


This stands out from other banana breads in its addition of ginger. Crystallized ginger. Chopped bits of the spicy root popping in each bite, its sharpness mellowed by bittersweet chocolate.

I replaced some of the all-purpose flour with whole-wheat flour, favoring it's nuttiness and to trick myself into believing it would be more wholesome. Oh baby, was this banana bread good. My mom had two generous pieces in one sitting. I've been eating it everyday, in fact, I just had it as a post-lunch snack.


I urge you, with a little less anger than my mom used, to go use up that pile of freckled and mushy fruit, still conjoined by their wrinkly stem, its funk permeating all corners of the kitchen. Overripe bananas begged to be married with chocolate and ginger, and promptly introduced to your friends.

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Recipe here!