What Would Peter Do?

Miso. What the heck is miso, anyway? My blogging friend, Peter of Cookblog, uses it quite a lot in his cooking, which I have always admired, so I decided to find out and perhaps start using it myself. One of the best things about blogging is the new ideas I get from fellow bloggers.

I have had miso soup in the past - who hasn't? - but never really knew what it was. That seems a shame, since I lived in Japan for nearly a year and enjoyed many a bowl of miso soup, then and since.

It's a seasoning but, even more, it's a protein-rich natural ingredient to many dishes. Peter mentioned having used it to slather on his salmon, along with some maple syrup before broiling and I thought that sounded pretty good. After a lengthy search in my market, I discovered where they keep the miso and brought a little tub home in triumph with a nice piece of wild coho salmon. I always have maple syrup since I got spoiled by the real thing many years ago and have never looked back.

Slather and pour. Flip. Slather and pour again. Grill on the Jennair, grill pan or broiler until just short of done in the center. Plate next to some red winter chard that has been garlic butter-steamed. The miso added a mildly salty flavor while the syrup brought the dish to the sweet side, a tasty teaming with the slightly bitter-but-savory/buttery chard. The colors were great together, too, although the photo doesn't do justice to the rich orange of the salmon.

Now that I have my little tub of miso, I am set for serious explorations. If you have suggestions for what to try next, I'm all ears. What would Peter do?

Bittersweet

I was married once before. After nearly twenty-five years, the marriage ended. First Husband and I were both left with that bitter combination of regrets, guilt and sad-happy memories that inevitably accompany the failure of a long marriage. We were lucky, however. Thanks to the skills and kindness of a truly gifted mediator, we salvaged a friendship out of the shipwreck of our marriage.

So, when I look back on that time, I can thank First Husband for the many gifts he gave me. He nagged me to stop smoking, something I have blessed him for ever since. He gave me confidence in myself, enough to see me through Chemistry when I went back to college and then grad school during our marriage. He was tolerant of the various wildlife I brought home to rehabilitate. He even put up with dead birds bagged in the freezer when I took an Ornithology class that included a section of taxidermy and fruit flies germinating in the laundry room for a Genetics course. There are many more gifts I could list but one of the most important ones is that he made me into a maple syrup snob.

First Husband came from a family with roots in the deep countryside of Pennsylvania. As a child he spent summers on the farm and learned to love real maple syrup at the gargantuan breakfasts they served before the day's work of milking cows and raising crops began. When we moved from California to New York state, he was thrilled to be in the middle of the sugar bush, where the real stuff is harvested.

Each spring, we would drive down to a farm in the Southern Tier of New York in search of maple syrup for the coming year. Reduced and bottled, the sap keeps for a long time. We'd purchase upwards of 20 bottles each year, giving most as gifts but insuring that we had plenty for ourselves, as well. It was an enjoyable ritual, one we kept even as our shaky marriage was crumbling around us.

So, when we split up, we actually divided our stash of maple syrup; it's not in our separation agreement but we were both honorable about it. I brought eight quarts of Grade A Light Amber syrup with me when I moved back to California fourteen years ago.

It has kept beautifully all this time downstairs in the storage area that I call Deep Storage to distinguish it from Deep, Deep Storage, which is yet another level down under the house, where the trolls live. This jug is the second-to-last, and we finished it off on the Cornmeal Bacon Waffles that Second Husband (better known as My Beloved) and I enjoyed yesterday.

There is only one more jug to go, one more chance to pour out a little sweetness to mingle with the bittersweet memories of nearly 25 years that keep forever, like the syrup.

Pear-Ginger-Orange Blooper

Okay, so this is the recipe I started out to bake. Pear Ginger Upside Down Cake. Doesn't that sound delicious?

Cranky had gifted us with a big bag of pears and oranges from his very prolific trees so I was eager to make something pearish and I just happened to see this recipe on one of my favorite food blogs. How's that for great timing?

When I brought out all the ingredients, however, I realized I didn't have molasses. My choice was the run out to the store or to improvise. Not being a huge fan of molasses, anyway, I decided to try substituting real maple syrple, of which I am extremely fond and of which I had plenty. I could just imagine that maple would add a nice note to the pear and ginger flavors in the cake.

Then, I was looking at the oranges that came with the pears and recalling that Cookiecrumb told me that the zest was the best part of their oranges, so I decided to add an orange worth of zest to the topping for the cake. Another improvement!

Later, right after I had loaded all the (fairly stiff - I shoulda known) batter into the cake pan on top of the pears and topping, I realized that I had left out entirely a key ingredient, the buttermilk. Well, um, that is, I didn't have any buttermilk, either, so I was going to substitute kefir that I had on hand but now had forgotten... *sigh* Some days are like that.

Anyway, I could do nothing but slide it into the oven anyway and hope for the best. I did that and checked it frequently as it rose beautifully and turned a lovely golden brown. When the cake tester came out clean, I cooled it a bit, released it from the springform pan and let it cool completely on a rack.

It was simply delicious. One of the best mistakes I've ever made. The pears were firm and sweet; the topping was sweet but not excessively so. There was a nice hint of ginger without being overwhelming and it complemented beautifully both the orange and the pear flavors. Next time, I will remember to add the kefir, as the crumb was tight and slightly dry, more like pound cake than cake-cake, but I will keep the maple syrup and the orange zest in the recipe for sure. I may add zest to the batter, as well.

It was so good that I had to cut it up and give it away to the neighbors to keep us from eating the whole thing. I credit my baking guardian angel with keeping my mistakes from turning this cake into a true blooper.

Valentine Waffles

My Beloved spoils me. It's true. He makes a big deal out of my birthday every year and, in between, finds hundreds of other ways to show his affection. I know just how lucky I am.

He started my birthday this year with heart-shaped waffles, complete with Bisquick and real maple syrup.

He learned how to make waffles while his daughters were still little girls; they are grownups now, but he still likes to make waffles every now and then and remember how his tiny Katie would put away many more waffles at a sitting than his bigger girl, Sarah.

This waffle iron, one of three that I own, was a gift years ago from my friend Wenirs, who couldn't resist the lure of heart-shaped waffles - she comes from a long line of wafflers, too, and her sour cream waffles are to die for. She makes them for us when we visit her in Michigan.

When I was growing up, my mother made waffles from scratch while we were at church with my Dad. He'd shush us when we got restless, put what seemed to us to be enormous donations in the offering basket and, even when we were very small children, let us drive home steering while seated on his lap as he worked the clutch and gas pedals. I think it was his way of giving Mom a morning off, as we all got to take turns behind the wheel if we had been good in church and that took some time.

Mom also made waffles, very occasionally, when she was sick to death of cooking and couldn't face the stove. Then, she'd put pieces of bacon in the waffle batter and call it a meal. Needless to say, this was one of our all-time favorites, generally served when Dad was out to sea.

Our syrup came in a little tin can shaped like a log cabin; when I moved to Western New York, however, I learned the joy of real maple syrup and have never looked back. It's a pricey luxury but one for which I am more than willing to pay.

When I eat waffles these days, all these little associations come back with each sweet, sticky bite. They all make waffles for a birthday breakfast one of the very best ways to spoil a girl. Husbands, lovers and significant others, take note!

Seattle Sprouts

I just returned from a marvelous wedding weekend in Seattle with old and dear friends, plus a few new ones I made while I was there. Catching up, retelling old stories and helping with the wedding preparations made me feel like part of the family. Meeting the delightful groom and his Mum (she flew in from their home in New Zealand) added to my roster of delightful new friends. Seattle put on her finest clothes for us - despite her reputation for rain, we had four out of five sunny days and the only rain fell after sunset, which doesn't really count. The fall colors of red, orange and yellow were just starting to tint the trees and the air was crisp. Personally, I suspect that rep is a myth invented by the locals to keep us Californians from moving up there.

In any case, the bride was lovely, the groom was handsome, the wedding dinner was delicious, the cake was sumptuous and everyone had a fine time. After the wedding was over and the newlyweds were off taking some time for themselves, our hostess cooked us a lovely meal, most notably this recipe for Brussels sprouts. She can't remember where she found it but she has doctored it up, anyway, so it is her own now. If you have reluctant Brussels sprouts eaters at your house, take note - this may just be the recipe that finally wins them over.

Slice one pound of fresh Brussels sprouts thinly (no need to peel them laboriously first; just remove any brown ends of the stems before slicing). Crisp about half a pound of bacon lardons and drain them on paper towels. Slice a smallish white onion and halve the slices. Have olive oil, 1/4 cup of chicken stock and about 1/4 cup of real maple syrup ready to hand; this is a stir-fry recipe so it goes fast once you start.

Pour enough olive oil to coat the bottom and sides of a wok or other wide pan. When the oil is hot but not smoking, add the onions and stir-fry for a very few minutes. Add the sliced sprouts and continue stirring and frying until the sprouts turn bright green, add the chicken broth and maple syrup, constantly stirring until the sprouts are crisp-tender but still brightly green, perhaps 2-4 minutes. When the sprouts are nearly finished, add the bacon bits and stir them in. Serve immediately.

The onions add a depth of flavor, the syrup a little sweetness and the bacon a salty smokiness to the sprouts, whose nuttiness is retained as they are not cooked long enough to develop their cabbage-y side. Our hostess claims this dish is great eaten cold the next day, too, but we ate every scrap of this huge wok full of sprouts so there were none left to sample the following day. Make more than you think you can eat if you want leftovers.

Enjoy with memories of a terrific wedding weekend!