brunch – Page 8 – GUTSy Performance Nutrition

Peach & Rosemary Cornmeal Cake

August 18, 2013August 28, 2022by RebeccaLeave a Comment

I have two confessions. One, I’ve been eating these Beet Burgers for at least one meal a day for the last five days. Mostly because I’m too stubborn to downsize a recipe and/or freeze leftovers in W’s absence. Oh, and they’re really good.

Two, growing up, I preferred the green, hard, unripe peaches and nectarines from the grocery store. Though I grew up quite close to orchard country, I didn’t like the squishy texture of a ripe peach. Never mind that there was no flavor. It was crisp. Like an apple. And I’ve always loved apples.

All of that has changed. To the second confession, I mean. I still have leftovers. I went to the farmers market yesterday and bought peaches from my favorite orchard. In a couple weeks, they will begin bringing in the first apples in all their glory. But right about now, Willamette Valley peaches are in their prime. Because I tasted each variety before purchasing, I finally chose the giant Red Globes that were perfectly sweet and ripe. Normally, I would simply slice them up one by one and eat, slowly, letting the juice drip. Drop. Onto the counter, all over my blouse, syrupy fingers infecting everything they touch. With the most perfectly ripe fruit, I wouldn’t usually want to mask its style by fussing. But I’ve been in need of a cake; something slightly savory with texture and herbs.

This cake delivers. Choose the ripest, choicest peaches you can find-Those flavors will shine through. I’ve adapted my recipe slightly so my cake is both gluten- and dairy-free. If you do not have a food scale, the gluten free flours total about 3/4 of a cup. If you have no dietary concerns, just sub in 3/4 cup all-purpose flour for the gluten free, and use regular milk instead of almond. I beg you, get out there (or into the kitchen) already and enjoy summer’s bounty of peaches while they last!

Peach & Rosemary Cornmeal Cake, adapted from Bella Eats
Updated: 8/28/22

1 Tbs. ground flax seeds
2 Tbs. warm water
50 grams sorghum flour
20 grams arrowroot flour
15 grams / 2 Tbs. almond meal
120 grams / 1 cup cornmeal
1/2 tsp. minced fresh rosemary
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
2 large eggs
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup non-dairy yogurt
2/3 cup plain unsweetened non-dairy milk
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup sugar
1 ripe peach, sliced thin
drizzle of honey, to finish

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Oil and flour an 8- or 9-inch springform pan (or a cake pan).
In a small bowl, stir together the ground flax and 2 Tbs. warm water. Set aside.
In a large bowl, mix the flours, cornmeal, baking powder, salt and rosemary. Set aside.
In a large measuring bowl, stir together the eggs, oil, yogurt, milk, honey, sugar, and flax mixture. Whisk well until frothy.
Pour the liquids into dry ingredients and stir until smooth and combined. Pour the batter into cake pan.
Arrange the sliced peach onto top of batter, beginning in the middle and working outwards.
Bake for approximately 30-35 minutes until toothpick comes out clean. Cool before serving.
When serving, drizzle a little honey over the top to finish.

Spring, Summertime

Rhubarb Granola & Vanilla-Orange Rhubarb Sauce

June 18, 2013by RebeccaLeave a Comment

I did not grow up in a family of cooks. My favorite cooking memory with my grandma involved making pumpkin pie with the recipe from the back of the Libby’s can. She advised me to cut the spices in half. When I didn’t, she told me it was the best pumpkin pie she’d ever had and wondered what magical thing I had done.

My mom, bless her, taught me how to cook and then promptly let me loose in the kitchen to continue making years of dinner onward, up until I moved away. Whenever I’m home for a visit, the status quo is accepted without question. Perhaps out of survival, or because I’m an odd duck in this family of ranchers, I’ve been fascinated with food since before I was taught how to use a measuring cup. Knife skills were a self-educating adventure, and only when I come home am I reminded that I had no idea what I’d been missing out on all those years.

Sharp knives have never had a place in my mom’s kitchen. I ventured to stock her kitchen with one or two nice knives a few years back, though they’ve not been sharpened since. The rest of the knife drawer includes a random collection that couldn’t have cost more than five bucks a piece. Now that I know the wonders of a good knife, I shudder at slicing and dicing in my mother’s kitchen.

I am home with my parents and W for a few days, in between life ventures and to help celebrate my sister’s wedding. As much as I complain and paint an unfortunate picture, I love being home. I get to wake up to noise from family afoot. I get to sit in a sunny yellow room with windows on every wall, opening to a ranch scene of cows and pasture and rail fence and my favorite old barn, the one that is leaning a fair bit. I get to drink my tea in this room and enjoy breakfast with others. I can sit out on the front porch in the Adirondack chair and watch the day go by (more of the same scenery). I can do the same on the back patio. My favorite running route begins at this farmhouse. My old 4-H horse will run my direction for a rub when I call her from the edge of the pasture. I can bake sweets every day, knowing they won’t go to waste and I can start again with something new the next. I can be as adventurous as I like because if it has sugar in it, my dad will eat it. I can wander to the garden, and harvest what I want to eat.

My mother is an avid gardener, and there is always fresh produce in this season. Perhaps in part because I steal rhubarb every time I visit in the spring, my mom planted several more plants. She is a veritable rhubarb farmer now, as there is an excess that only someone who loves to spend time in the kitchen can begin to use up. That’s what I’m here for. Chopping thick stalks of rhubarb with a dull knife. Making rhubarb sauce and rhubarb granola.

There is nothing I love more than rhubarb and oats. Except perhaps the rhubarb yogurt pairing found in Ireland. Make sauce with honey and orange and vanilla. I’ve been making it all spring and dishing it up atop anything and everything. I like my sauce a touch on the tart side, but add as much honey as you like. The sauce is perfectly poised to take part in this lovely crunchy, chunky granola, which come to think of it, I may or may not share, because my dad, who also loves rhubarb, will have gone before I can blink!

Vanilla-Orange Rhubarb Sauce

a pot full of rhubarb, cleaned and chopped (approximately 8 big stalks)

1 Tbs. pure vanilla extract (or a vanilla bean if one can be sourced)

zest from one whole orange

3-4 Tbs. raw honey (or to taste)

Chop rhubarb and throw in a large pot. Add honey, orange zest, vanilla, and a touch of water for moisture. Bring to a low boil, and then simmer until the rhubarb has cooked down until thick and creamy. Take off the heat and let cool.

Rhubarb Granola

3 cups old-fashioned oats

1 1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup raw almonds, lightly toasted and chopped

1/2 cup raw Hazelnuts, lightly toasted and chopped

3 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil

3 Tbs. raw honey

about 3/4 cup Rhubarb Sauce

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a sauté pan, lightly toast almonds and Hazelnuts and then take off heat to cool slightly. Measure out three cups oats and pour into a mixing bowl. Measure out vanilla, honey, oil and rhubarb sauce. Mix until combined and then pour into oats. Add toasted nuts and mix until combined. Add more sauce as needed until the mixture is at the desired consistency. Spoon into a baking sheet and bake for about 15-20 minutes, stirring half way through.

Running, Spring

Carrot Orange Corn-Flour Waffles

May 20, 2013May 7, 2022by RebeccaLeave a Comment

“The heart decides, and what it decides is all that really matters.” – Paulo Coelho

As a teenager, suffering through the angst of star-crossed infatuations, I ran. Though not a runner then, not adept at sports, without the proper shoes, I’d run the dirt paths behind the horse pasture, round the fields of corn and alfalfa, dodging animal tracks and farmers. I’d often run away my worries, my frustrations, replacing them with a colorful imagination of the reality I wanted to exist. In college, I learned from my phys ed prof, dubbed “Lance” by the farm boys in my class, that it takes five years to make a habit a lifestyle. Seven years later, I’m still running. Running away my worries. Running away my frustrations, gaining a better perspective, creating a new reality.

This last few months, running has been my guidebook. Hours away from W for weeks at a time, too often feeling like an island of one, I’ve ran and made waffles. And been humbled. I have done things I didn’t think I could. I have stumbled and cried, been disrespected in small, countless ways, been left speechless. Hit roadblocks. I have laughed uncontrollably. I have pushed and stirred, over-analyzed, lost sleep, pulled a zillion gray hairs, and gone a bit mental.

I’ve been encouraged and let down. Too often, of my own subconscious volition, I stood at the edge of a circle looking in. Wanting to both jump towards acceptance and run towards a calling I cannot explain. Hours, weeks, months convincing myself to feel something that my heart long ago gave up. Getting close to the end, I worry again. I had a standard; did I uphold it? Did I demand all that I should have? Did I reach those that needed to be reached? Was there real progress made?

At the end of the day when I’m less frustrated, when my run is complete, and those waffles have been devoured, I reach for a broader perspective. In a tough position, I am making the most of it. I could do more. But my heart has decided, and what it decides…is all that really matters.

Carrot and Corn-Flour Waffles, adapted from Good to the Grain
Recipe Updated: 5/7/2012

Dry Mix:
3/4 cup corn flour or finely milled cornmeal
3/4 cup gf flour mix, or all-purpose flour
3 Tbs. ground flaxseed
1 1/2 Tbs. brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 1/2 tsp. ground ginger
1/4 tsp. salt

Wet Mix:
1/2 cup + 2 Tbs. (10 oz.) carrot juice, plus more if needed
1/2 cup + 2 Tbs. (10 oz.) orange juice, plus more if needed
1 1/2 Tbs. olive oil
zest of half an orange
1 egg

Turn the waffle iron on medium-high. Adjust as needed as cooking progresses.
Sift the dry ingredients together in large bowl. Set aside.
Whisk the wet ingredients together in a small bowl. Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture.
Brush the waffle iron with additional oil, as needed. Ladle out the batter and cook until fluffy and done.
If available, top with freshly picked strawberries and yogurt, and savor over a cozy spring meal.