winter blues + blueberry barley and banana pancakes

So much for New Year’s resolutions. Already this month I've done two truly bad things I’ve never done before. First, I knowingly bought blueberries out of season. Naughty. And second, I lied to my sister. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but if I’m being honest, it was a clear omission of truth. Here’s how it happened:  

You can probably relate to this part—we were home for the holidays, my siblings and I, our kids and spouses under Mom and Dad’s roof, enjoying breaking all our own rules. I twice ate (and enjoyed) the fresh berries my parents graciously buy to keep our fruit-loving family in oatmeal toppings while they’re feeding us by the dozen. And though they weren't anything close to seasonal, if I’m being honest again, it was truly freeing. Next, we had pancakes more than twice in one week—first, mom’s light and lovely whole-wheat buttermilk stacks, and then at Richard Walker Brother’sPancake House, where their endless list of options brought out the utter glutton in me. No matter that they aren’t even that good. They churn those babies out in every shape, size and flavor.

Here’s the thing, I love making pancakes, and developing delicious, surprising combinations people love. But I rarely crave them. I expect a breakfast to be filling, long-lasting, energy inducing--the kind of thing that sticks with you for a long day on snowshoes or skis. Pancakes, delightful as they are, rarely fit that bill. 

But when you want pancakes, only pancakes will do.

Pancakes were on my mind for a good week following our trip home. Still, determined to clean up my act after the New Year, I ordered the Blueprint Cleanse and encouraged my sis to do the same. During our juicing days, I sent supportive texts of good cheer (wait till you taste the cashew milk!), and then, on Friday, another that said: Stock the fridge with fresh fruits and vegetables for the weekend. No pancakes. But when I woke up Saturday morning, I could think of nothing but pancakes. And there on the top shelf of our fridge was the half-pint of organic, boldly out-of-season blueberries I’d shamelessly bought for oatmeal, taunting me. Oatmeal? Or blueberry pancakes? 

So here’s what I decided: Pancakes we could have, but no white flour, and definitely no butter (okay, just one pat). They should taste like a classic—light, fluffy—but with a lot more heart and good intent. Since this was an utter detour from the cleanse (pancakes are, after all, just cake disguised as breakfast) they had to be worth it. Irresistibly good.

Sometimes good things happen when you allow yourself a sudden detour. This particular good thing was fluffy, hearty, lovable blueberry barley banana pancakes. No white flour. No sugar. No butter (except that harmless pat you see). And though there are a few naughty fresh blueberries sprinkled on top, these pancakes are studded with organic frozen blueberries (Cascadia farms), frozen in peek season when they are best, and just the thing to keep on hand for when you’re craving some winter blues. 

Here’s to being bad. Love you sis. 

~

Blueberry Barley and Banana Pancakes

Makes 8 pancakes

3/4 cup whole-wheat white flour

½ cup barley flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon fine sea salt

1 egg

1 cup 2% milk

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 ripe banana, smashed

1 cup organic blueberries, fresh or frozen

Canola oil, for cooking

Pure maple syrup, for serving

Whisk together the flours, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg, milk and vanilla; stir in the smashed banana.  Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix until just combined.

Heat a large cast-iron or non-stick griddle over medium heat. Brush the pan with a thin layer of oil and drop the pancakes by ¼-cupfuls onto the griddle, leaving plenty of space between them to let them spread. Cook until the pancakes start to bubble around the edge, about 2 minutes. Sprinkle a few blueberries around each pancake and carefully flip. Cook until the pancakes are set and lightly golden brown, 2 minutes more. Repeat with the remaining batter, brushing lightly with oil as needed. Serve warm with maple syrup. 

P.S. I know what you’re thinking—barley flour, really? Yes, really. Buy it, and I promise I’ll give you more than one way to put it to good use. It’s my favorite whole-grain flour, and it marries like a dream with bananas and warm, bursting blueberries. You'll find it in the health-food section of your supermarket, at your local health food store, or easily online. 

one splendid squash + a prayer for peace

I've always said, never underestimate the ability of a humble squash to feed a family. Growing up, one of my favorite meals was mom's baked squash, stuffed with sweet and spicy sausage and a sprinkling of brown sugar. We'd each get an oozing warm half, or a quarter (for the littler ones) drizzled with the buttery brown-sugar goodness that had collected in the bottom of the roasting pan. It was steady and sure, both the meal and the feeling I had after eating it, surrounded by my siblings and parents at the family table.

I intended to write you about this habit I have of buying a pretty squash on every trip to the market, particularly when I know we'll be going away. It keeps well on the counter, and waits for our return, a promised sure-thing dinner when we return from a weekend or even a week away. I planned to write to you about the style of simple sure-thing cooking I've come to rely on the last two weeks, working outside the house again as Food Director at Real Simple magazine. I thought I might convince you of the splendor such simple foods can translate into when you give them a little love and care. But right now, squash doesn't seem to be quite enough of a steady and sure thing for the times we're living in.

Tonight, far, far too many families are sitting around a table with an enormous part of their world and their hearts missing. I can't express enough sorrow or sadness, can't begin to comprehend the future for these families. All I can offer is prayer, and a wish that each of us take every opportunity to continue to love, cherish and nurture the beloved ones we have the great privilege of sitting among tonight.

God bless and keep us, every one.

{clean eating} Black Radish Salad with Kale, Tokoyo Turnips, Almonds and Parmesan Cheese

This past weekend Greta, András and I were in Virginia and North Carolina, and we were bad—really bad. I’m talking buttery grits, sweet tea, biscuits and Nutter-Butters bad. So this week I’ve been craving nothing but kale salads and beet juice, the kind of cleansing food that gets me back on track, mentally and physically, from my sugar-induced slump. But then, there’s this cold that’s creeping in. And hot chocolate calls.

Sigh.

It’s nothing a good trip to the farmer’s market can’t fix. Here’s how it went. Greta and I set out for our weekly Wednesday trip to our teeny market, just two strides out my front door— our neighborhood’s greatest gift. I had two facts in my head as we went: First, the market is just week’s away from its winter hiatus, which starts after Thanksgiving, a deadline I don’t take lightly. And second, today we had just $20 cash, half our usual market stipend that has us in a week’s worth of fresh fruits and vegetables, a jug of cider and one cider donut apiece. What can you buy with $20 at the market? Amazing, intriguing vegetables—always cheaper than fruits—bunches of greens and piles upon piles of roots. Beets. Potatoes. Black Radish. Kale. Broccoli. Tokyo Turnips.

I saw a salad coming on.

Last week at an incredible dinner at Il Buco, I had a Grilled Filet of Spanish Mackerel with filet beans and raw Tokyo Turnips, a bracing, surprising success that I haven’t stopped thinking about since. The turnips were calling my name, as were the black radishes whose brooding, elephantine skin conceals their gleaming white core.

I had a vision of a clean salad forming, full of crisp, fall flavors, knobby bits of aged crystalline Parmesan cheese, and roasted almonds. All crunch, substance, flavor. Back home, as I worked my way around the roots with my camera, I got hungrier, so I threw a few potatoes and some garlic in the oven to roast. And the smell.... well, you know the smell of roasted garlic and potatoes.

What’s left, after my split personalities went their separate ways, is two different but equally delicious salads: one pure and raw, the essence of every vegetable, the other, warm and raw melting together, the give of roasted potato between every bite of earthy kale and crisp radish. Both alive. Both the kind of salad you might enjoy, say, as a lunch or a first course, of if you’re still in the mood for being bad, as an easy meal eaten along side a few fine slices of charcuterie with a glass of Chimay. So much for clean. Either way, lean or lux, both are at home on any table—carnivore or vegetarian. Take your pick:

~

Black Radish Salad with Broccoli, Tokyo Turnips, Kale, Almonds and Parmesan Cheese

Serves 2 to 4

½ head Tuscan/ Black Kale/Cavolonero, cut in bite-sized pieces

3 tablespoons high quality extra virgin olive oil

Juice of ½ lemon

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

1/2 small head fresh broccoli, florets and stems, thinly sliced lengthwise

1 large black radish, thinly sliced or cut in bite-sized pieces

2 small Tokyo Turnips, thinly sliced

4 ounces Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, broken in bits

1/3 cup roasted, unsalted almonds, roughly chopped

Fleur de sel or sel gris, for garnish

Toss the kale together with the olive oil and lemon juice in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Massage the kale, squeezing and rubbing the leaves together with your hands, working the oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper into the leaves to flavor and tenderize them. Toss together with the broccoli, turnips, parm, and almonds. Divide between plates. Garnish with fleur de sel and more ground pepper; serve at room temperature.

~

Black Radish Salad with Tokyo Turnips, Roasted Potatoes, Apples, and Manchego

Serves 2 to 4

1 handful fingerling or banana potatoes, halved lengthwise
4 cloves garlic, in their skin, smashed

5 tablespoons high quality extra virgin olive oil

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

½ head Tuscan/ Black Kale/Cavolonero, cut in bite-sized pieces

Juice of ½ lemon

1 small crisp, tart apple, thinly sliced

1 large black radish, thinly sliced or cut in bite-sized pieces

2 small Tokyo Turnips, thinly sliced

1/3 cup roasted, unsalted almonds, roughly chopped

2 ounces Manchego cheese, thinly sliced

Fleur de sel or sel gris, for garnish

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Toss the potatoes, garlic, 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt and pepper together until coated and spread onto a baking sheet in a single layer. Roast until soft with golden brown edges, about 30 minutes.

Toss the kale together with the remaining olive oil and lemon juice in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Massage the kale, squeezing and rubbing the leaves together with your hands, working the oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper into the leaves to flavor and tenderize them. Toss together the roasted potatoes, turnips, apples, and almonds. Divide between plates. Scatter the cheese over the top. Garnish with fleur de sel and more ground pepper; serve at room temperature.

Photos and Recipes © Sarah Copeland 2012

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