Who I Want to Be & Summer Brownies

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The smoke filled air instantly takes me back to standing in the smoking porch of a favorite pub, years ago now.  Almost another life.  I watch the dazed people look up from their gaming machines.  They meander around as if possessed, plunking more cash into the slots.  At the tables, the dealers’ hands flash and fluidly swoop up another round of cards.  My sister, and then my friend, squeal when up a few and then subsequently moan when all of it is lost.  The lady across the aisle sits reclined and relaxed, one elegant hand holding a long cigarette, the other poised on the ‘bet 5’ button.   The woman two seats down banks $1,500 on a quarter machine.  Her carefully contained delight emanates the space as she makes plans to see her friends there again within the week.

I delight in nothing more than watching these people, knowing this is not my place.  I’m not a smoker.  Or a gambler.  Not necessarily even a drinker.  Oddly enough, this place, this observational haven, reminds me of who I want to be.

W reminded me recently that how I see myself and how I present myself don’t always coordinate with each other.  Analyzing this statement and realizing he’s correct got me thinking.  I value authenticity, yet don’t always live authentically.  Often when surrounded by family, I retreat into a shell and only show the pieces that can’t be so easily criticized.  I camouflage how I truly feel because I think someone else will be aided by my self-sacrifice, or I long to avoid conflict and judgement.

As I sit surrounded by people delighting in only the next moment in a smoke-studded casino, I realize they don’t care what anyone else thinks. Heck, they don’t even care about what’s going on in their own lives in this moment.  For the moment, they are all-in.

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That’s who I want to be.  A person that chooses to confront controversy, to embrace how I feel, to present the same person to the outside as I feel inside, despite another’s observation, perhaps in their eyes coming up short.  To live a life that’s all-in every experience.

That’s what I did with these brownies.  I wanted chocolate and nectarines, the ones on the counter going soft.  Not in a pastry or cobbler or something usual.  In something gooey and cakey. Yet still with a tinge of health and nutrients. I’m being true to myself now after all. My gluten-free flour blend has a bit of buckwheat in it so it has the fairest hint of a rustic tone, I threw in some honey from my uncle’s bees, a small zucchini, and used extra virgin olive oil.  The result was exactly me.  Exactly what I wanted to taste and share.

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Summer Brownies with Zucchini and Nectarines, adapted from Happyolks
  • 1 cup grated zucchini
  • 2 cups grated, smashed or finely chopped nectarines with juice
  • 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1/2 cup honey
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 tsp vanilla extract
  • 2.5 cups gluten free flour blend
  • 1/2 tsp. xanthan gum
  • 3/4 cup  cocoa powder
  • 3/4 tsp salt
  • 2.25 tsp baking powder
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9 x 11 baking pan with a tsp of oil and set aside. Grate zucchini and dice nectarine and juice onto a cutting board.
In a large bowl, mix together oil, eggs, honey, and vanilla.  Fold in the nectarine and zucchini. In a medium bowl, combine flour, cocoa, salt, and baking powder. Add the dry mixture to the wet mixture slowly, stirring to combine. 
Bake for 30-45 minutes and let cool on a wire rack.

Rhubarb Granola & Vanilla-Orange Rhubarb Sauce

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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.

Honey Balsamic, Kale & Sirloin Salad

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We decorated her hair with kale and magnolia blossoms outside Shari’s restaurant on a lovely spring day, a group of barely teenage 4-H girls, excited to be traveling, and poking fun at a friend with the restaurant’s “plate decor.”  That moment, in the late 90’s, I learned about kale.

Fast forward a dozen or so years, and the sounds of elementary kids in a school cafeteria during summer camp overtakes me.  I walk in the breezy doors and set down my supplies.  My co-workers are already mid-spiel, whipping up banana, almond milk, blueberry, and kale smoothies.  “Hulk smoothies”, all the young minds call them, and they have never been so excited to eat their greens.  “We love Hulk smoothies,” they clamor.

My husband, W, asking me, what is that big green stuff?  “Kale”, I say, “all the kids love it.”  Skeptical, but open to what he now knows is more likely tasty than not, he tries it.  “If restaurants would make these sort of salads,” he says, “more people would eat them.”  I couldn’t agree more.

In the past year and a half, we’ve gone from just knowing about kale– that there was some hype in that area of the vegetable world– to eating it all the time.  Growing it on the patio, even.  Growing it at school, where even the high school students like the idea of crunchy spinach, as they have nicknamed it.

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While we love kale in pasta, this salad, with honey and balsamic vinegar, raisins, and grilled sirloin, is perfect for this January season, when after the holidays we crave both fresh and clean, comforting and filling.  Even more so if tossed in with a bit of caramelized onion, this salad accomplishes both.

Honey Balsamic Kale & Sirloin Salad, adapted from Bon Appetit 
1 Tbs. raisins
4 Tbs. white or dark balsamic vinegar, divided
1 Tbs. rice vinegar
1 Tbs. raw honey
1 Tbs. extra-virgin olive oil
1 tsp. salt
1 bunch Kale, preferable Tuscan, center ribs removed, and leaves diced
8-12 ounces sirloin steak
caramelized onions, if desired
  • Place raisins in a small bowl; drizzle 2 Tbs. balsamic over them and let them soak while you’re prepping the kale.
  • Whisk remaining 2 Tbs. balsamic, rice vinegar, honey, oil and salt in a large serving bowl.
  • Add kale and raisin mixture to bowl.  Toss to coat, and let marinate for 20-30 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper, as needed.
  • Season steak with salt and pepper, and grill until cooked to desired doneness.  Let settle for a few minutes, and then slice into long strips.
  • Dish kale onto plates, and add steak to the top.  Toss with caramelized onions, if using and serve.