The Hungry Tiger

Oaty pikelets

 

First I made these excellent pancakes. You start them the night ahead, with some oats and buttermilk mixed together in a bowl and put in the refrigerator to soak. (We have a fridge! At last! Hooray!) The next morning, you have some for breakfast and a few leftover, cold, later on. 

Soon I realized that though they were fine hot off the griddle, I liked the leftover ones much better. I started making them just for snacking on. And once I was doing that, I made them a bit smaller, the better for eating out of hand. And once that happened, I finally realized that what I was making, in fact, was oatmeal pikelets.

 

They are somewhere between a pancake and a crumpet, not quite as holey as the latter but made en masse for toasting (or not toasting) later, unlike the former. If you have crumpet rings, as I now do, you can make them extra pikelety and a bit taller. If you don't, leave out the extra splash of milk from the recipe below and just make small, free-form griddle cakes. The batter will be very thick, so they won't spread much, and they will work just fine. 

Then when you're done, either way, let them cool and pop them into a bag, or bags, or some covered container, and put them away in your refrigerator, so that over the next week you can eat them cold or toasted, with butter or jam, or butter and jam.

 

OAT PIKELETS
repurposed from Orangette

2 cups rolled oats
2 c. buttermilk
½ c. all-purpose flour
2 T. sugar
1 t. baking powder
1 t. baking soda
½ t. salt
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
2 T. milk, if using crumpet rings

The night before, mix the oats and buttermilk together in a large bowl. Cover and refrigerate for 6 to 24 hours.

When you're ready to begin cooking, take out the bowl of oats and melt the butter in a small saucepan. Leave it a few minutes to cool down a bit.

In the meantime, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl. 

Add the melted butter, beaten eggs, and milk (if using) to the oat mixture and mix well. Add the flour mixture and mix just until it's completely incorporated. The batter will be thick.

You are going to cook these a little lower and slower than you might ordinarily cook pancakes, because of the thickness. Heat a skillet over a medium flame and brush a little butter on the pan. (I use the dregs of the melted butter that went into the batter.) If you are using crumpet rings, oil them too.

Set the crumpet rings in the pan, or not if you don't have any, and scoop the batter. A skimpy quarter cup is about right. That's about three tablespoons. When bubbles appear at the top and you can see that the edges are set, remove the rings and flip to finish. I find that the first side takes about four minutes when the temperature is right. The second side cooks a little more quickly.

Remove to a cooling rack and repeat until the batter is used up. 

For me, this makes 24 pikelets every time.

Snacking on tofu, baked and pressed.

That jam tart turned out kind of soggy on the bottom anyhow.

What sorts of things do you cook so that you will have them around the house for a while to snack on? I haven't made a batch of godlike lentil snacks in a while. Maybe I'll do that this weekend.

I will definitely be making more buttermilk oatmeal pancakes, which I like so much cold, with jam, for snacking that we no longer bother with eating them hot for breakfast. It's all direct to leftovers now, which is like direct to video except that it should be taken as a sign of success, not failure.

Another not very canonical snack in our refrigerator right now is these little cubes of pressed, baked tofu. Probably they make more sense as an ingredient in a stirfry or something, but I eat them all out of hand before they get a chance at the big time.

Stupid gadget confession: I really love the dense but unrubbery texture produced by the Tofu XPress. It seems goofily expensive, and I guess it is, but it sure does get the job done.

SNACK TOFU

First, press the hell out of one block of firm tofu. I put it in the Tofu Xpress for at least 24 hours. You can rig up whatever alternative pressing apparatus you like, but you'll want it to be something you can put in the fridge, so you can leave it to compress for a good long time.

A day or two later, slice the pressed block in half along the same plane as the cutting board, which is to say the largest side of the block. Then cut each half into bite-sized pieces. I do sixteenths.

Put the pieces back into the base of the Tofu Xpress or into a similarly-sized container and cover with marinade. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

MARINADE

1/4 c. ponzu or 2 T each soy sauce and lemon juice
1/4 c. sherry
1 T. mirin or a squirt of honey
1 T. sesame oil
1 T. miso
Plenty of freshly ground pepper

Dilute with warm water as needed to make sure all the tofu is covered, but try to choose a container that minimizes the amount of dilution necessary.

Bake in a single layer (a cookie sheet lined in parchment works nicely) at 375 degrees F for 25 minutes. Let cool on the pan at least until cool enough to handle, about ten minutes.

Crostini with ricotta, honey, and thyme

This was our late night treat on New Years Eve, inspired by similar crostini we had at Marlow and Sons a few years ago.

The combination of flavors and textures -- crisp bread, milky ricotta, sweet honey, herbaceous thyme -- is unusual enough to surprise, gentle enough to soothe, and magical enough to impress. I love these so much, and they are so easy to make in proportion to how delicious they are that I would eat them all the time if not for the fear that I would devastate their specialness through overexposure.

There's nothing fussy about the preparation; it's just a matter of assembling five ingredients and letting the good things happen.

ALCHEMICAL CROSTINI

Slices of crusty bread
Olive oil
Good, fresh ricotta
Honey
Plenty of fresh thyme

Toast the bread. Brush it lightly with the olive oil. Heap it with the ricotta, drizzle with honey, and scatter with thyme leaves. No skimping. You could certainly use more thyme than shown in the photo and not regret it in the slightest.

Though obviously any simple dish like this depends on the quality of what goes into it, there's only one ingredient that you really have to be careful about here: the ricotta. Do not use something like Sargento from the supermarket dairy case. Look for something "hand-dipped" from a decent cheese counter or a specialty cheese shop.

Crispy spiced nuts

Everyone else on the internet has amply covered the mechanics and aesthetics of most of the gifty foods I've been making this season. Fleur de sel caramels? Check. Spoon cookies? Most assuredly. Chocolate-covered butter toffee with almonds? Oui oui. But the recipe for my holiday spiced nuts belongs to no one but me. I've written about it before, but it's buried so deep in history that you cannot turn it up even with a Google search -- and so, I think, I can safely write about it again.

I would choose these over any other salty-sweet spiced pecan, walnut, or almond, and I have eaten many that are very good. I'm sure your favorite recipe is perfectly tasty. It's just that these are better. The ingredient list is not intuitive, but the resulting combination of flavors is highly addictive. The coating clings beautifully, thanks to the egg whites, and its texture after cooking is light and crisp. One recipe's worth generally covers about 6 cups of whatever sort of nuts you like best, and it is easy to make batch after batch if you want more.

Obviously these are bold, rather than dainty, but unless you are cooking for a bunch of supertasters, everyone should be able to enjoy them just fine.

BEST SPICED NUTS

Lots of raw, unsalted walnuts, pecans, and/or almonds
2 egg whites
1 T. olive oil
3/4 c. white sugar
2 t. salt
2 t. garam masala
1 T. paprika
1 t. hot sauce (I recommend Sriracha, aka Magic Rooster sauce)
1 t. soy sauce
baking parchment (CRUCIAL -- your pans and sanity will thank you)

1. Preheat oven to 325° F.

2. Beat egg whites in a very large bowl until foamy, but not holding a peak. Add the other ingredients, except for the nuts. The result will be a reddish brown, slimy goo. Mm!

3. Add as many nuts as will comfortably fit in the bowl and mix very thoroughly with your hands, a spatula, or a wooden spoon.

4. Line two cookie sheets with parchment. Spread the nut mixture on these sheets in a single layer, leaving behind any extra coating that has puddled at the bottom of the bowl. Add more nuts to the bowl and coat them until all the goop is used up.

5. Cook for 30 to 40 minutes. Remove from oven and slide parchment and nuts onto the counter to cool. When they are COMPLETELY cool, and not before, break the clusters apart and store in an airtight container. They should keep well for a couple of weeks, but warm or damp weather will tend to make them soft before their time.

Kibbe.

It occurred to me about halfway through my recent candy-making spree that I was going to want something to nibble on that wasn't just a wad of sugar and butter. 

Fortunately these lentil snacks are still delicious. Also, look at all those comments! People used to stumble across this place by accident. Amazing. It is a pity that all my site-moving antics mean that I have utterly lost the meager Google position I once had. Oh well -- no one's fault but my own, to be sure.

This version was truly a cultural mishmash, but still excellent. As the commenters on that old post observed, this is a very forgiving recipe. There was no tarragon, fresh or dried, in the house, and none of that Hungarian red pepper paste either. I left out the fresh herb component altogether and used about 3/4 teaspoon of pre-made Thai red curry paste in place of the Hungarian stuff.

I was also too lazy to form the traditional little ovals you see pictured in the original post. Instead I used a little scoop made for portioning out cookie dough, which had the additional advantage of leaving my hands clean.

Tarte au Sucre

In Canadian French, "tarte au sucre" means a real sugar pie: flaky pie crust with a sweet filling, along the lines of shoofly pie. In France, though, it's the name of a yeasted cake with sweet topping. To make one, first you make a brioche dough and pat it into a buttered springform pan. Then you spread the top with soft butter, and sprinkle sugar over that. In the oven, the sugar and butter melt into a crunchy sweet crust over a tender but substantial base.

Despite the name, it's not excessively sweet, and it makes an excellent breakfast or teatime snack. After the first day, I like to cut a wedge, then warm it in a toaster oven. (Keep an eye on it lest you burn the topping.) This magically restores it to soft freshness and adds a little bonus toasty flavor. With toasting, the slices we ate on Thursday were as good as the ones we'd had on Sunday.

Of course yeast doughs take a little extra planning, but this one is pretty straightforward, with its long cool overnight rise. I plan it like so: Start the dough on Friday or Saturday evening, then pop it into the fridge. The next morning, take it out first thing and go about your business showering, having breakfast, and so on while it comes to room temperature, or take it out after breakfast and go run a few errands. Then you can bake it up around lunchtime and have your first taste as an afternoon snack. Instructions below assume a stand mixer.

How to boil an egg (and devil it)

Tomorrow is Snark's birthday, so I was making some deviled eggs, and at long last, I've found the timing that did the trick for hard-boiled eggs. For some reason, the times most people suggest for the supposedly foolproof cold-start method seem to give me overcooked eggs. Very sad! Today's, though, were just right--no grey ring around the yolk, yolks cooked through absolutely but no more. It didn't hurt that they were farmer's market eggs. The yolks were a brilliant yellow as well as being cooked the perfect amount.

Here's what worked for me: Eggs, size large, right out of the fridge into the bottom of the pan, nestled in so that I couldn't have fit another in a single layer in the pan in question, but not really packed tight, and covered with cold water about 3/4" above the tops of the eggs. Pan partly covered, over a high flame. When I noticed the water had come to a boil (because I heard a little clunk of the eggs bumping), I turned the flame off immediately and covered the pan entirely. Then I set the timer for twelve minutes. When it went off, I used a slotted spoon to transfer the eggs to a bowl of ice water, with plenty of ice.

If you want to be really particular, you can make an effort to center your yolks before you boil the eggs. I've read a few different suggestions for this: store the eggs tip-down, or tip the carton on its side, or give the eggs a spin before you cook them. Anyone have personal testimony about the effectiveness of any of these techniques? If you'd like my exceedingly simple deviled egg recipe, read on. (I expect everyone already has a perfectly good idea of how to make deviled eggs, but hey, why not?)

Quick dhokla

I like fluffy, chewy steamed breads very much, though I don't usually think of making them at home. Do you know the kind of thing I'm talking about? Bright white mantou, for example -- those Chinese steamed buns with no filling. They're great, but something I buy at Chinatown bakeries rather than something I make myself.

These kinds of steamed breads, the dense, sweet kind filled with dates and walnuts and that kind of thing, well, I don't honestly think of them as breads. I like a nice plum pudding, but not this time of year!

 

The light, savory Indian steamed bread called dhokla, though, is so appealing that now I've realized that I can make it in the comfort of my own home, it's threatening to become a new staple recipe. I first had dhokla at the amazing Vik's in Berkeley. It's golden and springy, dressed with fried mustard seeds and fresh cilantro, and I love it. It's supposed to be more of a snack food, really, than something you're supposed to have with dinner, but so far dinner has been when we've had it, and leftovers the next morning with our coffee.

Since we're just a couple of dorky white heathens, anyhow, it works for us. The more traditional way of making dhokla includes a step in which you ferment it overnight, like a sourdough -- first making a batter of gram (chickpea) flour and/or rice flour and spices, or even soaking chana dal (that is, split hulled chickpeas) overnight, then grinding them together with the spices, and then letting that ferment for some hours. Only then do you add the baking soda.

I daresay that is even more delicious, but honestly this quick version tastes very nice too. It's also easy to make, despite the length of my instructions below. I adapted this recipe very slightly from the version at Saffron Trail, and added some tips based on what have struck me as potential pitfalls along the way. It makes enough for S. and me to have plenty for dinner and breakfast the next day; it should serve four as a lunch or hearty snack.

Things to have in the middle of lessons

I have a very definite fixed idea that the truly civilized life consists of engaging in scholarly activities all day, punctuated by walks outdoors and little snacks accompanied by nice things to drink. Unfortunately, I do not manage to make this happen nearly often enough, even though it would actually not be very difficult at all. (As I once said here on a related subject, "this fantasy is so much like what my life could easily be, if only I were a better person, that it is kind of depressing." But no matter.)

In any case, I have no doubt that my notion of the proper morning version of this fantasy comes from a passage in Noel Streatfield's fine children's book, Ballet Shoes:

Savory lunchtime m***ins

I'm afraid the word "muffins" is always going to seem kind of dirty to me, in a sniggering playground sort of way. It's very hard for me to bring myself to say something like "Let me tell you all about my delicious savory muffins!" even though I really do, in fact, want to tell you about my delicious savory muffins.

Then there's also the difficulty that I suspect that even if you don't have my (perhaps? probably?) somewhat idiosyncratic associations with the word, "vegetable muffins" sounds more improving than appetizing. Is there some other word I could use to describe these items that would be equally accurate? Help me, please.

In any case, these were an excellent addition to our lunch boxes this week. They have a pleasant, moist but unsticky texture, slightly reminiscent of popovers because of the high proportion of eggs. They're full of vegetables, which makes them pretty healthy, and are not sweet.

The internet has many suggestions for ways to sneak vegetables into your picky children by way of baked goods and smoothies, and it seems like all of the veggie muffin recipes that result are sweet, not savory. I wanted something easy to pack in my lunch and eat out of hand, and veggie muffins (aggh, that word!) sounded like they might be a nice idea--but the apple-carrot or honey-zucchini-pumpkin route didn't really appeal.

I think this recipe should be pretty versatile, accommodating most any variety of vegetables, and you could mix it up quite a bit with your cheese/seasoning combinations. For example, broccoli, cheddar, and maybe a bit of mustard would go well together; or spinach, feta, and oregano or dill; or cauliflower, lemon zest, cumin, perhaps, and parmesan. Anyway, you get the idea. See what you think.

Applesauce Spice Cake

Over the weekend I baked up a pan of applesauce spice bars from Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours. I pronounce them delicious, though I did a couple of things that I regret. I didn't have any corn syrup, so I substituted honey in the glaze. This worked fine, but I think that honey is more hygroscopic than corn syrup, making the glaze grow stickier over time.

I also put the bars in an airtight container in layers (with parchment between), in the refrigerator. I think that this also made the glaze gooier than it was supposed to be, and the lower layers especially got a bit gloppy. Still, very good, with a nice balance of sticky gooey treat and wholesome afterschool snack. (Or breakfast, in actual fact.) I wonder if I can find a nice 9" x 13" storage container for future batches.

Linkly thinklies

Awash in work, but here are a few things I want to remember that sound good:

Black bean couscous cakes I'd make them with quinoa, I think, and either the hash version, or with unvegan eggs to hold them together.

Mini crustless tofu quiches Not much like a quiche, there, but that's okay by me. I think I find the prospect a great deal more appetising if I don't think of this as faux something else. "Golden tofu vegetable rounds," perhaps? Sounds like a nice thing to have around for lunches.

Hare chane ki seekh (green chickpea kababs) Another nice thing to tuck into lunches, I'd think, and I have a bag of green chickpeas in the freezer. Upma (see also, or with oatmeal!) No farina in the house at the moment, or indeed ever to date, but that needn't stop me for long. A good venue also, I suspect, for onions from the bottomless jar of crispy fried Thai onions. UPDATE: Tonight I was inexplicably still hungry after a perfectly adequate dinner, so I made my own little version of Indira-of-Mahanandi's oatmeal upma, and it was fantastic, especially with mango and chile pickle. Mmm, so good. And certainly filling! I foresee that we will have this for breakfast in the future.

The snacks of Britain

How exciting! The Phileas Fogg snack line has been relaunched. The offerings seem a bit more pedestrian this time around, though -- too many tortilla chips for my taste, though one does have poppy seeds, which is certainly not the norm.

In other snack news, we'd noticed recently that the shelves of our local convenience store had been positively overflowing with various "limited edition" versions of chocolate bars and other sweets. It seems that business reporters have noticed the same thing, as there were pieces about the phenomenon in both the New York Times magazine and the Wall Street Journal this weekend. The WSJ article goes into more detail, particularly on the basic failure of the gambit for KitKat in the UK.

Lentil snacks

There is a book by Diana Wynne Jones, The Dark Lord of Derkholm, in which a character makes what her family refers to as "godlike snacks". I find this a haunting description. Godlike snacks! What could be more enticing? I have yet to make anything that goes quite that far, but I do not think the gods would scorn these lentil treats, especially if they were very hungry.

Kibbeh (or kibbe, or kufta, or köfte, or a number of other variations) is canonically a sort of meatball that transcends meatball-hood. The most classic version is made with ground lamb that has been mixed with moistened bulgur, wrapped around a filling of cooked meat and seasonings. But it can be made with fish or beef or veal or spinach or potatoes or lentils or any number of other things in place of the lamb; or with other grains in place of the bulgur. Stuffing, too, is optional.

The classic shape approximates a football, but spheres and ovals are fine, too. In tray köfte the ingredients are spread in layers in a pan, the tamale pie of the kibbeh world. Kibbeh can be baked or fried, doused with sauce or dry, served hot or cold. Paula Wolfert's The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean lists fifty varieties. One is a vegetarian version that I have been cooking, with a few small changes, every week.

They are delicious cold, straight out of the fridge, which I understand is their native habitat as well, and they're easy to form, being mere ovals with no filling. We snack on them happily with before-dinner drinks or to take the edge off in the late morning, early afternoon, or before bed.

Elevenses

American English is sadly lacking in names for proper structured between-meal meals. "Snack" doesn't do it, because it has skittered away from structure and taken up residence with furtive fumblings in desk drawers and that sort of thing. I am not quite at the hobbit level of proliferating meals, but I will certainly confess to enjoying both elevenses and afternoon tea -- the latter often featuring coffee, in my case. A hot drink and a little something to take the edge off is just what the between-meal dips in morale and blood sugar call for.

My afternoon goûter is very well in hand, as S. and I have taken to faithfully stopping for a cappuccino and a little bite in Little Italy on our way home from work in the evenings. Midmornings more frequently get short shrift, but sometimes when I am working at home I manage to take the time for a little spread like the one pictured above.

The cookies are Almondias, which I always pick up when I happen to be in a Trader Joe's. I've only ever tried their "original" flavor, but I have found no reason to want to stray. (That said, now that I know that they make other flavors, I find myself intensely curious about what they are like.) Not too sweet, not too unsweet, thin and crunchy, just the thing. Some occasions call for for a baked good that is small and crisp, rather than large or gooey or chewy. The manufacturers take a lot of trouble to emphasize that they are not dreadful for you, but that is entirely beside the point. The important thing is that they are very tasty and a fine complement to a restorative cup of tea.