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. 

{bake shop} Carrot Banana Hazelnut Bread

Did you ever wonder why moms make so much banana bread? I hadn't given it much thought until this weekend, but now I know. If you have kids, bananas are a staple. An utter must. Since the amount of kids I might need to feed can jump from one to five in an instant at the whim of our little social bee, I now stock them in the double digits. This also means that there are bananas of varying ripeness on hand, and more and more often lately, the smashed carried all day in my purse in case Greta got an instant case of the hungries bruised and beaten banana that gets stuck back in the fridge if still uneaten when day is done.  

This lovely bread—as inviting as a breakfast bread as it is an after-nap weekend snack—is the happy accident when a few of those bruisers and last night's leftover carrot mash were calling to me "Reinvent me. Bake! Make me beautiful again!" 

And here's the big reveal...there were. I topped my Carrot-Banana bread with sprinkling of sunflower seeds, rolled oats and hazelnuts (and walnuts on the other) for extra flavor and fiber, but you could add any combo of nuts, seeds and grains to the top (or insides) or yours. Give it a little love, it's deserving. 

~

Carrot-Banana-Hazelnut Bread

Makes 2 large loaves or 4 to 5 small loaves

4 large eggs

1 1/2 cups raw organic sugar

1 1/4 cups vegetable oil

10 ounces pure carrot puree (1 1/4 cups)

2 cups white whole-wheat flour or whole wheat flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 to 3 very ripe smashed bananas

¼ cup rolled oats or barley

¼ cup lightly toasted hazelnuts, roughly chopped (or walnuts)

3 tablespoons raw sunflower seeds

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly butter 2 standard loaf pans or 4 to 5 mini pans and dust evenly with flour.

Beat the eggs and sugar with an electric mixer in a medium bowl on medium-high speed until thick and pale yellow, about 4 minutes. Add the oil and carrot puree. In a separate bowl, stir together the flour, baking soda and cinnamon and stir into the batter until evenly combined. Pour into the prepared pans and top with oats, nuts and sunflower seeds. Bake until the breads spring back lightly when touched and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 40 to 45 minutes, or 20 to 22 minutes for small loaves. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.  Wrap well and set aside to ripen overnight or eat warm with butter.     

Photos and Recipes © Sarah Copeland 2012

Please credit source on Pinterest. All other uses require permission via email.

{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.

Golden Zucchini Bread + A Slow Re-Entry into Reality

{photo by Sara Remington}

It's the last day of the endless zucchini feast, and my first day back at my desk after 30 days in planes, trains and automobiles. Although I'm vowing to give up my pastry habit that started on our trip to Hungary, and get back to our grains and vegetable routine, today I'm craving a slow re-entry into reality. I want to stand, glassy-eyed, methodically shredding dewy garden zucchini over a bowl with a box grater,  stirring it with my favorite wooden spoon-- the one I haven't seen in far too long--into a luxe brown-sugar and whole-wheat batter. While the batter ribbons out into my bread tins, I'll think about how in the world to catch this site up on all it missed in Hungary and Helsinki and Chicago, and write the day away to the sweet smell of fresh baking bread...

~

Golden Zucchini Bread

From The Newlywed Cookbook 

Makes 2 large loaves

{full of goodies} In July, when the garden is bursting with zucchini and the market is practically giving them away, make this slightly sweet bread with just enough veggies to make it good for you. This is divine eaten just a touch warm, with thick slabs of cream cheese spread on for the weekends. Farmer’s cheese or fresh ricotta, both high in protein and much lower in fat, make this a go-to breakfast treat as easy for everyday as it is elegant for breakfast with friends.

4 tbsp/55 g unsalted butter, plus more for the pans, at room temperature

1 cup/200 g lightly packed dark brown sugar

⅔ cup/130 g granulated sugar

3 large eggs

½ cup/120 ml grapeseed or vegetable oil

2 tsp pure vanilla extract

3 cups/400 g white whole-wheat/wholemeal flour

1½ tsp baking soda/bicarbonate of soda

½ tsp baking powder

1 tsp fine sea salt

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1 large zucchini/courgette, grated {about 3 cups/720 ml}

1 firm Bartlett/Williams pear, cored and grated {about 1 cup/240 ml}

¾ cup/85 g chopped toasted walnuts {about 3 oz}, plus more for garnish

¼ cup/40 g golden raisins/sultanas

2 tbsp sesame seeds

½ cup/120 ml farmer’s cheese, ricotta cheese, or cream cheese, for serving

Sliced figs or pears, for serving

Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C/gas 4. Butter two 9-by-5-in/23-by-12-cm loaf pans/tins. Line them with parchment/baking paper, butter the parchment/baking paper, and set aside.

Beat the butter and sugars in a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, on medium speed until fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating between each addition. Add the oil and vanilla and stir to combine.

Whisk together the flour, baking soda/bicarbonate of soda, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon in a medium bowl. Mix half the dry ingredients into the butter mixture and stir together. Stir in the remaining dry ingredients with a spatula, along with the zucchini/courgette, pear, nuts, raisins, and sesame seeds.

Divide the batter between the prepared pans. Sprinkle with additional walnuts. Bake until the bread springs back when lightly touched, and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out dry with some crumbs, about 50 minutes. Cool on a rack 10 minutes. Remove from the pan, slice, and serve warm with a thick schmear of cheese and sliced figs.

P.S. Guess what. I finally got it. Two c's, one n. That's Zucchini.

Blackberry Magic {and one delicious casualty}

In the making of a beautiful food photo are dozens of details that have to line up just right. Props have to be picked so not to steal the show from the food. Linens need pressed. Light needs evaluated. The food needs to be created and cooked and placed just so. And on top of all that, there has to be a little magic ~ that little something that makes the food pop off the plate and into your soul so that you are compelled, if not utterly convicted that you too must have a plate of magic.

Twice this summer, I spent an entire week with a team of six talented ladies who are each bringing their expertise and eye together to make sure my very first cookbook is beautiful. We gathered props from our own collections and begged and borrowed linens, plates and platters. We scoured grocery stores and garden stores and farmer's market for the freshest most locally grown ingredients. And then we began.

During these weeks of method and madness, there were moments when all six of us screamed "it's gorgeous!" and gathered round to stare and stare and stare at a plate of uneaten food.

One such moment happened midweek just before lunch time. I stacked up a plate of my fat oatmeal-yogurt pancakes and piled them high with Greek yogurt and blackberry crush. The sun came in and fell softly upon every swirl and curl, bouncing off the berries in a luscious glow. And then, after Sara Remington {the very talented photographer I'm lucky to have on my team} got the very last photo, six forks descended upon the plate like we'd been starved for a century.

One of those forks fell on clumsy hands {mine} and soon one dark, delicious drip made itself at home on Sara's linen. I am very, very lucky I know how to cook. Sara took her turn at the pancakes, declared them delicious and turned a blind eye to my mistake.

I wish I could share some blackberry magic with you while they're still in season. You'll have to wait for the book to get the recipe {sorry, you're going to hear that from me a lot in the next year}. I promise, it's worth the wait. But don't wait until then to go out and make some magic of your own. Summer still looms in luscious berries and the last of summer peaches and nectarines, early figs and plums. Go out and discover them!

In the meantime, you'll be hearing a lot more about the talented beauties behind my book, and of the many moments behind the scenes that make a book what it is before it gets into your hands.