{foraging} rye and yogurt pancakes with figs and fennel syrup

We're lucky that Greta spends many days a week in the very good care of two angelic sisters, Miss Marlene and Miss Angele, who keep her fed and happy while András and I work. One of the things that drew us to their sweet space was the fact that it's in a family home, right on the park, with a garden out back to play in the shade of an enormous fig tree.

This is Greta's first fall there, and it hasn't taken her long to fall as hard and fast for figs as I did the first time I had the chance to pick them straight from a tree, long ago in St. Tropez where I spent many months as a private chef.

These days, I get my figs from this sweet Italian gent down the street from me, one of the dozens of my neighbors who brought the tradition of keeping fig trees in their yard from Italy, Greece or in the case of Marlene and Angele—Malta. But I found the fig bowl on his porch empty the last two times I passed. On a recent evening picking up Greta, I admitted to Miss Marlene that I had a hard and fast fig craving and no ready solution. She welcomed me to forage the upper reaches of the fig tree, where it's us against the birds to get to them first. For the most part, they've won, but one day this week Greta and I made out with four whole figs, plump and pink inside—an absolute treasure, and cause to celebrate.

In our house, celebrating means pancakes. A lengthier start to a week-day, the kind that gives her Apa (papa) heart palpations since his commute is a little more time consuming than mine. But today, her Apa's gone, and this rain has me feeling snoozy, like hanging in with my girl a little longer than usual before I arrive at my desk.

Pancakes in our house almost always start with mostly or at least some whole-grain flour. Rye is our favorite of late—earthy and rich, which blends well with buttermilk, or since it's always on hand in our fridge, creamy European-style yogurt. These fat stacks are great in Papa size portions, or made as silver dollars, just right for dipping.

Today we're dipping in a little fennel maple syrup, made with another foraged treat—fresh fennel seeds from our neighbor's garden, sprinkled in while the syrup warms on a low flame. But any light drizzle of pure grade b syrup over your stack is just the thing to sweeten the start of the day.

~

Rye and Yogurt Pancakes with Fresh Figs
and Fennel Syrup

Makes 12 to 18 pancakes

Pancakes

1 cup rye flour

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tbsp raw or unbleached sugar

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp fine sea salt

2 large eggs, separated

1 cup thick plain yogurt + 1 cup whole milk (or 2 cups buttermilk)

4 tbsp melted unsalted butter, plus more for the pan

Fresh figs

Fennel Maple Syrup

Grade B maple syrup

¼ to ½ teaspoon fennel seeds

Whisk together the rye flour, all-purpose flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Whisk together the egg whites, yogurt and milk in another bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and the melted butter. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients, and whisk in the wet ingredients, alternating between wet mixtures until the batter is just incorporated with a few lumps—be careful not to over mix, which can make the pancakes tough.

Warm the syrup in a small saucepan over low heat. Add the fennel seeds if desired, stir to combine, and keep warm over low heat while you make the pancakes.

Heat a nonstick or cast-iron griddle or heavy skillet over medium-high heat until hot. To test, splash a drop of water onto the griddle; it should sizzle. Brush the griddle lightly with melted butter. Scoop about 1/3 cup of the batter onto the griddle, leaving plenty of space between pancakes for them to spread and be flipped. Cook until the bottoms are set and a few bubbles form around the edges, about 3 minutes. Add a little more melted butter to the griddle.

Using a flexible spatula, flip the pancakes and cook until the bottoms are golden brown around the edges of the second side, and the apples a touch crisp, 1 to 2 minutes. Transfer to a plate and stack them high, topped with butter, fresh figs and a drizzle of warm fennel syrup.

Photos and Recipes © Sarah Copeland 2012
Please credit source when using on Pinterest. All other uses require permission via email.

{you're invited} The Newlywed Cookbook Valentine's Tour, and a Bittersweet Chocolate Tart

{photos by sara remington}

It's Thursday, which means there's still plenty of time to go out and buy loads and loads of bittersweet chocolate before the weekend. That's a very good thing, first, because it's February, the month of Valentine's! And second, it's the start of the official Valentine's launch party for my new book, The Newlywed Cookbook. And where there is a Valentine's party, there will be chocolate. 

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I dream myself in an airy Soho loft, where I'd invite you all to come for slender slivers of my Bittersweet Chocolate Tart with Smoked Sea Salt and a glass of pink champagne. We'd celebrate in high style, we would. But as I write from our snug new york city studio {we are newlyweds, after all}, it's hard to imagine more than two or three of you here at once. Still, our hearts are big and full of the love and joy that always precedes a feast among friends, so, feast we will!

For the next thirteen days, many talented writers, some old friends and many new ones, will be cooking from The Newlywed Cookbook,  sharing their story of food and love along with one of my recipes for you on their blogs! We, whether married two years or twelve years or not-yet-married-at-all, are toasting to the spirit of newlyweds ~ to the the joy and curiosity and abundant love that is at the heart of this book.

The menu, if I do say so myself, is quite delightful, and includes all the major valentines food groups. On it you'll find....

Rise and Shine Muffins ~ Oatmeal Yogurt Pancakes with Blackberry Crush ~ Ricotta Silver Dollar Pancakes ~ Multigrain Pancakes with Chocolate Shavings ~ Roasted Beets with Ricotta and Pistachios ~ Two-For-Two Cheese Souffle ~ Halibut with Coriander and Carrots ~  Grilled Lamb Chops with Melted Polenta ~ Cast Iron Skillet Steak ~ Dowry Dinner Rolls Chocolate Bread & Butter Pudding ~ 1000-Layer Chocolate Cookies~ Olive Oil Cake with Tangerine Marmalade

We invite you to come taste these recipes and hear the stories of these talented writers and friends here...

Dorie Greenspan ~ Diary of a Locavore ~  Aida Mollenkamp ~   Just A Little Organic ~ E.A.T. ~ Mom's Kitchen Handbook ~ Spoonful of Cake ~ Nancie McDermott ~ Farmhouse ~ Lucid Food  ~ Crumbs On My Keyboard ~ Dessert-o-Licious ~ Dallas Food Nerd ~ The June Cleaver Blog ~ Cherryspoon ~ Healthy And Happy Hour

To show our love for our readers and hopefully inspire some loving feasts in your home, each of us will be giving away a copy of The Newlywed Cookbook to one lucky reader. Kindly leave me (and them) a comment and tell us your story of food and love for your chance to win.


Meanwhile, while I regret that I can't cook you my Bittersweet Chocolate Tart myself, I'm so happy to share the recipe with you. I promise that your skill-set in the pastry department is of no matter; this is one simple, sensational valentine's treat you and your love won't regret embarking upon. 

Come, bring your beloveds, bring your friends as we toast to love. May your hearts and tables be filled!

xo, 
Sarah

Bittersweet Chocolate Tart with Smoked Sea Salt

~

Despite its handsome finish, this tart couldn’t be easier. The crust gets its tenderness from sugar and melted butter, pressed in instead of rolled for ease. It is completely simple, and sinfully elegant. The flavor comes from the chocolate and the cream, so splurge on the highest quality of both you can find.  Your loved ones are worth it.

Serves 12
{Crust}

1/2 cup/115 g unsalted butter, melted

3 tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

Pinch of fine sea salt

1 cup/115 g all-purpose/plain flour

{Filling}

1/2 cup/120 ml heavy cream

1/2 cup/120 ml whole milk

2 tbsp sugar

Pinch of fine sea salt

7 oz/200 g high-quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped {1 heaping cup}

1 large egg, beaten

Smoked sea salt {optional}

Preheat the oven to 350˚F/180°C/gas 4.

Make the crust: Whisk together the melted butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt. Add the flour and stir until it feels like damp sand. Press the dough evenly along the bottom and up the sides of an 8-in/20-cm square or 9-in/ 23-cm round tart pan/flan tin with a removable bottom {which makes it much easier to remove the tart in one piece. If you don’t have a tart pan/flan tin, you can make this tart in a springform pan; press the dough evenly across the bottom and only about 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 in/3 to 4 cm up the side of the pan}. Use wax/greaseproof paper or buttered fingers to even out and press the dough tightly into the corners. Prick the crust all over with a fork and chill in the fridge until ready to bake, about 30 minutes.

Set the pan on a baking sheet/tray and bake until the crust is golden brown, about 25 minutes.

Make the filling: While the crust bakes, bring the cream, milk, sugar, and salt to a simmer in a medium saucepan over low heat. Remove from the heat and add the chocolate. Let it sit for about 2 minutes, without stirring. Starting in the middle of the pan, whisk together until the chocolate is evenly melted and the mixture a smooth and a shiny dark brown.

Whisk the beaten egg into the chocolate filling and pour the filling directly into the hot crust. Decrease the oven to 300˚ F/150˚C/gas 2 and return the tart to the oven. Bake until the filling is set, but still a little wiggly in the center, about 12 to 15 minutes (temperatures vary from oven to oven, so the visual clue is more important than time}. Set your timer for 12 minutes. If it looks mostly set at that point, test it by opening the oven door a crack and carefully jiggle the tart pan/flan tin with the edge of your oven mitt. Only the center third should wobble. If it wobbles all the way to the edge, close the door quickly and continue baking about 2 to 3 minutes more.

Remove and cool the tart completely on a rack at room temperature. Just before the tart cools and sets completely, sprinkle a few large flakes of smoked salt on the surface, or leave plain.

Remove the tart from the pan sides and carefully transfer to a platter before serving. Let it cool just until it slices easily. It melts in your mouth when served slightly warm, with a dollop of crème fraiche, if you wish, for extra decadence. Or cool completely, and serve by itself. 

P.S. The deep, smoky flavor of smoked sea salt is a fine complement to the rich chocolate, but this tart is just as elegant with big flakes of white sea salt, or if you’re a chocolate purist, no salt at all. 

Marriage, Stinky Cheese & Fig Jam {an anniversary story}

Three years ago today, I married this crazy, brilliant, handsome, playful man. I love him more than I ever dreamed it possible to love. And when you love someone, sometimes you want to steal them away from the world and have them all to yourself, just for one day. That's how I'd hoped to spend today, in my favorite city with my favorite guy. Maybe we'd eat at abc kitchen or swing Greta between us in the park or just sit outside together at our favorite beer garden with our baby girl toddling at our feet and try not to be busy, just for a few minutes.

Yesterday, we found out András had to go to Boston for work this week, so there would be no dinner at New York's chicest local food mecca, no shared stein of beer, no Netflix streaming snuggled side by side in bed.

When he told me, I did a requisite pout. Then I spent a good hour feeling sorry for myself, something I don't believe in but allow myself about once a year. Until my friend Breana told me she spent her very first anniversary at home in North Carolina eating stinky cheese and fig jam while her hubby, Scott, was off doing his dissertation research among the cheetahs in Kruger National Park, South Africa.

That was a good reminder that in marriage, we didn't sign up for one perfect day together once a year, but instead, for all the simple, imperfect days we share in between, including the support and sacrifices it takes to follow our dreams. Perfection? That's what the wedding day is for, one magical day to get you started, something to relive when you're apart, and to hold onto anytime you need a little bit of fairy tale.

Today I have these photos from our fairy tale, and sweet Greta who is our happily ever after. And by tomorrow, András will be back by my side again.  But in the meantime, I'd like to commence the the tradition of the wild-card Stinky Cheese & Fig Jam Anniversary, redeemable for leather (3rd), pearl (30th), gold (50th),  diamond (75th) or any other anniversaries anytime you have to celebrate your special day apart from the one you love.

I'd love a story to keep me company while I stir my fig jam. Tell me, when you have had to spend your beloved day away from your beloved, and what did you do to sulk or celebrate? 

~

Fig Jam

2 pounds green or purple figs, stemmed and quartered

1 1/2 cups raw, organic sugar

zest and juice of 1 lemon

1/3 cup water

makes 3 8-ounce jars

1. Toss the figs, sugar and lemon zest together in a non-reactive saucepan and let them sit, about 15 minutes.
2. Add the lemon juice and water and bring to a simmer over low heat. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until figs are soft and the liquid is jammy, about 20 minutes.
3. Cool and transfer to sterile jars. Store in the fridge for up to 2 months. Serve with scones or toasted bread and stinky cheese. 

Heading to Memphis To Sing the Tomato Blues

{homegrown. hurley, ny}

Sometimes it's hard to let go of something. Like tomatoes. See the passing of tomato season means it's really fall. The season Greta was born in. Which means she's almost one. Not so much baby. Yes, still a baby, but no longer the tiny kind that fits in a pouch on your chest and goes with wherever you go without wiggling to get out and crawl and walk and, sigh, run ever more toward being a big girl. It means there's no more the first time she wiggled her toes in the sand or the first time she said Mama or the first tiny tomato she ever ate right off the vine.

{tomatoes irene. hurley, ny}

I got to thinking about all this tonight as I packed for Memphis, where Greta and I are headed bright and early in the morning to celebrate my dear, sweet Aunt Dorothy's 80th Birthday. I got to thinking we might need to sing a little tomato blues while we're down there. 

{food network kitchens. chelsea, ny}

In the meantime, I'm leaving you with this tomato retrospective and a few of my favorite fallish {is that a word?} tomato recipes to help you bid adieu to the summer's-over blues.

{lunch. porva, hungary}

Eight Outstanding Late-Season Tomato Recipes

The Kitchn's Three Cheese Tomato Tart

Saveur's Open-Faced Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

101 Cookbook's Spiced Tomato Gratin

Tomato Rice (Tamatar Biryani) from Food52

Sunday Supper's Roasted Eggplant, Tahini, Heirloom Tomato and Mint 

Shakshuka (Middle-Eastern Tomato and Baked Eggs) from Tasty n Sons, Portland

Roasted Tomato Soup with Herbed Croutons from Ann Gentry

Lisa Oz's Turkish Scrambled Eggs (Menemen)

{fallen. hurley, ny}

The Sweet Spot: Whole Wheat Semolina Peach Pancakes

hurley, ny

To say that I'm indecisive would be a grand understatement. For example, I can't decide which I love more, peach season or apple season. I can't decide if this post should be about the end of summer, or the beginning of fall, or whether I'll be baking peach upside down cake or tart tatin for tonight's dessert. 

Luckily, for a few more weeks, maybe even just two, I don't have to. We're in the sweet spot, those days when one season turns into another. The days when the last and most flavorful peaches show up at the market elbow to elbow with the first apples of the season. For a few more splendid days, us non deciders can have both. 

It is these days that are made for cooking. Peach pancakes for breakfast. Apple sauce simmering on the stove to savor warm from your favorite bowl as the nights turn cool.   

Since we have lots of time yet to talk about apples, let's end peach season with a strong finish. Here, for your Sunday brunch, the very pancakes that gave our weekend a perfectly peachy start. 

~

Whole Wheat-Semolina Peach Pancakes

1 2/3 cups white whole-wheat flour

2/3 cup semolina flour or finely ground cornmeal

2 tablespoons raw, organic sugar

1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon fine salt

1 cup organic milk

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted

2 large organic eggs

2 to 3 ripe local peaches, peeled and thinly sliced

pure maple syrup, for serving

serves: four

1. To make the pancakes, whisk together whole-wheat flour, semolina flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large bowl. Whisk together the milk, melted butter and eggs in another bowl. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients, and whisk in the wet ingredients until just incorporated into a thick batter.

2. Heat a nonstick griddle or heavy skillet over medium heat until a drop of water splashed on the pan sizzles. Brush the griddle lightly with melted butter. Use a 1/3-cup measure or a ladle to scoop pancake batter and drop it onto the hot pan, leaving about an inch or so between pancakes.

3. When bubbles form around the edges of the pancake, lay a few slices of peach into the batter on each pancake, leaving plenty of space between the fruit. Use a flexible spatula to gently lift and flip the pancake. Continue cooking on the other side until the pancakes are golden brown around the edges, about 2 minutes. Repeat, adding more butter to the pan as needed. Butter and serve warm with extra peaches and a drizzle of maple syrup.