Strawberry Rhubarb Double Crisp

To me, great food is a study in contrasts, and this dessert is the queen of them all: the rosy color and sharp tartness of rhubarb, the juicy sweetness of strawberries, the sandy crunchiness of the oat crumble topping, and the smooth coolness of the ice cream as it melts over the warm, tender fruit.. This is my new "desert island" dessert.

This recipe is adapted from Dorie Greenspan's Baking. I've omitted the walnuts and crystallized ginger from the topping and the ground ginger from the filling, but if you're feeling adventurous, you could put them in. (For her version, add 1/2 c. walnuts and 1/4 c. chopped crystallized ginger for topping; 1/4 t. ground ginger in filling). My version also contains the zest of 1 orange.

It's a "double" crisp because half of the crisp mixture is pressed into the bottom of the pan. This creates a crust of sorts, but the crisp itself is so deliciously gloppy that it does nothing more than add more "crisp" to the party, which is never a bad idea.

Strawberry Rhubarb Double Crisp

For the crisp:

1 c. flour

1 c. brown sugar

3/4 c. old-fashioned oats

pinch of salt

pinch of cinnamon

1 stick unsalted butter, melted and cooled

For the filling:

1 lb (4-5 medium stalks) rhubarb, trimmed and peeled

3 T. cornstarch

1/2 c. cold water

3 c. strawberries, hulled and sliced

1 c. sugar

1 t. vanilla

zest from 1 orange

whipped cream or ice cream to serve

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Put a 9-inch square baking pan (Pyrex glass or porcelain is best) on a baking sheet lined with parchment or a silicone mat.

For the crisp:

Put the flour, brown sugar, oats, salt, and cinnamon in a large bowl and sift the ingredients through with your fingers. Pour over the melted butter. Using a fork, stir the ingredients until they are thoroughly moistened.

Spoon half the mixture into the pan and pat it down lightly to form a thick crust; set aside the remainder for the topping.

For the filling:

Slice the rhubarb into 1/2-inch pieces and scatter them oer the pressed-in base. Dissolve the cornstarch in the cold water; set aside. Put the strawberries and sugar in a medium saucepan and, with a for, pastry blender or potato masher, crush the berries. Place the pan over medium eat and, stirring occasionally, bring the mixture to a full boil. Pour the dissolved cornstarch into the pan and, stirring with a whisk, bring everything back to a boil. Keep cooking and stirring until the strawberry filling is thick and no longer cloudy, about 3 minutes. Pull the pan from the heat, stir in the vanilla and orange zest, and pour the filling over the rhubarb. Scatter the remaining crisp mix over the filling.

Slide the crisp into the oven and bake for 60 minutes, or until the topping is golden and the strawberry jam is bubbling up all around the edges. Serve warm or at room temperature, with sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Carbs, Glorious Carbs

Okay, just a quick one. (Amanda, this is for you.)

Pasta in a bread bowl? Seriously? Does it come with an insulin injection and a very large bottle of water?

Culinary Tour of Grimsby

Fish & Chips, mushy peas, Tango. Source unknown.

No, that's not an oxymoron. British food is in the midst of a renaissance! Sadly, none of that kind of food is shown here. What is shown is a sampling of treats from Ed's recent trip to England to visit family for his parents 50th wedding anniversary.

Sidebar: I'm hanging up the apron for a couple of weeks. Actually, I'm just taking a brief blogging break as part of an experiment I'm doing for a church lesson. Stay tuned...

First, the lovely Jim and Freda Gilmore. Happy anniversary and thank you for raising such a fine son. (And, I might add, instilling in him a love for ironing and laundry, for which I will be forever grateful.)

Here's all of the Gilmore family. Top l-r: Steve, Jim, Freda, Trish, Linda. Bottom: Pete, Ed.

Because the Grimsby/Cleethorpes area is right on the coast, you get the best fish & chips in England. Better than London. Better than anywhere.


The coast may not be pristine, but it used to be one of the biggest fishing ports in the world, and can still crank out some excellent fish & chips.

Part of the seafront is the infamous Pier 39 Club you see in the distance. No food, I think, but I'd wager that Ed spent many nights dancing away here in his youth.

Ed also spent much of his youth (and adulthood) at Blundell Park cheering on the Mighty Mariners. I'm told of such culinary delights such as Snickers bars dipped in tomato soup and dodgy hot chocolate.

The final third of his youth was spent at The Smugglers pub chatting up girls, playing pool and darts, and getting his friends home safely.

Around the corner (on St. Peter's I think) is a fabulous candy store with all sorts of retro candy. Here are some ultra-sour sour apple candies that make your mouth water just thinking about them.

On the same street is the Ocean Bar, an excellent spot for great fish & chips.

This is what you get when you order a "full English" for breakfast.

Fortunately for Ed, his mom's version was very much toned down.

Ed was also treated to stuffed French toast the day he arrived at Trish's. Delicious!

Ed's brother Pete is apparently quite handy on the grill.

Linda couldn't resist going out and buying a famous cream dougnut.

Ed's mum is an excellent cook. Here was a nice lamb dinner she made for Ed & Linda.

Oatmeal Raisin Loaves

I'm standing in my local grocery store, staring down the small loaf of raisin bread that is $4/loaf. I'm thinking, I don't have time to bake today, I should just buy it. For a moment, I almost give in. Then I take a deep breath and walk away, determined to make something cheaper and better. What a snob I've become. Wait a minute, do snobs really buy Western Family mac & cheese? Because that's what in my cart. I'm a conflicted woman.

I flipped through my beloved but neglected Baking in America, and found a recipe for oatmeal raisin bread. For you oatmeal haters out there, you really need to give this a try. There is no chunky oatmeal texture - it sort of just melts away into the dough and mellows out the whole wheat flavor. This dough uses whole wheat and white flour, oatmeal, and maple syrup for sweetness, so it's a great food storage recipe. I'm sure you could swap out the butter and milk for oil and powdered milk if you wanted.

Oatmeal Raisin Loaves

2 c. milk

1 1/2 c. cups quick oats (not instant)

4 T. butter

2 c. whole wheat flour

2 1/4 t. yeast (1 pkg.)

2 large eggs

1/3 c. pure maple syrup

1/4 c. water, plus more if needed (note: I used the soaking liquid from the raisins)

1 T. salt

3 1/2 c. white flour

1 1/2 c. golden and/or dark raisins (I soak the raisins to plump them up and use the soaking liquid for the water. I also give the raisins a rough chop before adding them to the dough.)

1. Bring milk to almost a boil in a large saucepan. Remove from the heat and add the oats and butter. Stir well with a wooden spoon until the butter melts. Cool until mixture feels just barely warm to the touch.

2. In a stand mixer scrape the oatmeal mixture into the mixing bowl and add the whole wheat flour, yeast, and eggs. Beat on medium speed with the paddle attachment for 5 minutes. Scrap the bowl and beater. (You could also do this by hand if you have those "Arm & Hammer" arms). Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let rise at room temp. until almost tripled in volume, about 1 to 1.5 hours.

3. Stir in maple syrup, 1/4 c. water, slat, and 1 c. white flour into the oatmeal mixture. Attach the dough hook, and kneading on low speed, add the remaining 2.5 cups. flour, (Note: I did not need to add all 3.5 cups flour.) 1/2 c. at a time, beating well after each addition. Increase the speed to medium and continue to knead 5 to 8 minutes until dough almost cleans the sides of the bowl and feels firm, smooth and elastic. Add a small amount of water or flour if necessary.

4. Oil a large bowl or container and transfer the dough to the bowl. Let rise at room temp. until almost tripled in volume, about 2 hours.

5. Butter or grease two 9x5x3-inch loaf pans. Knead raisins into risen dough and divide in half. Shape into loaves, place them in the pans, cover with oiled plastic wrap and let rise until centers have risen about 1-2 inches above the rims of the pans, about 1 hour.

6. About 30 minutes before the loaves are ready to bake, place them in the oven, leaving a few inches between the pans. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until the loaves are well browned and sound hollow when you remove them from the pans and rap their bottoms. Naughtly loaves! Cool completely, if you can stand it, then wrap until airtight. Can store in freezer up to 1 month.

Scalloped Potatoes with Three Cheeses

A while back I wrote about the highly contraversial topic of funeral food. Since then, I've had a desire to revisit our old forgotten friend, the scalloped potato. Shoved aside by frozen hash browns and creamed soup, the lowly scalloped potato has taked a back seat for years, even decades.
Scalloped Potatoes with Three Cheeses
This recipe is from one of my favorite cookbook authors, Rick Rogers. I was so happy with how it turned out. Sure, it takes a little time to cut all of those potatoes, but there is also something strangely redemptive about making something from milk, potatoes, flour, and cheese and have it taste so darn good.
Recipe notes:

• This recipe lends itself well to improvisation. Add whatever cheese you want (and have) and embellish with herbs, ham, or vegetables.
• I forgot to add the onion - it was still good
• I switched out the blue cheese for the the tamer (and available in my fridge) monterey jack. It was still fabulous.
• If you have a convection oven, use that setting as it gave the top a nice, crispy, burnished coat.
• I was very liberal with the salt and pepper. You'll need more than you think. Take into account the saltiness of your cheese as well.

Tortilla Soup (sort of)

"I want to tell you about the pleasure, the sheer unbridled joy, of cooking without a recipe".--Nigel Slater*

It was two days before payday and, let's be honest, the kitchen was not overflowing with fresh and exciting food. Poking through my fridge, I find: leftover chicken stock (from the risotto), some odds and ends of cheese, some romaine that desperately needs to be eaten, and some sad carrots. I do have half a bag of tortilla chips. What about a taco salad? Checking the freezer, I realize I have no ground beef. What I do have is lots of frozen chicken and some frozen green chiles from when I made chile verde a few months back. What about chicken tortilla soup?

Do I have the ingredients? Who cares, it's soup. I can do whatever I want. My standby soup recipe has zucchini, lime, cilantro, and black beans. I don't have any of that. In the basement storage room I find a can of mexican-spiced chopped tomatoes. That'll do.

Most soups start with some sort of mirepiox (onions, carrots, celery), so that's where I begin, sweating a chopped onion and some garlic in some oil. I chop about a cup of the defrosted green chiles and them to the onions. While that's cooking, I recall that it's good to "bloom" spices in the oil you're using as it helps bring out the flavor (as opposed to just adding them to the water), so I throw in some chile powder, cumin, salt, pepper, and a dash of cayenne.

While that's cooking, I chop up the sad carrots and throw them in the pot. I add the can of tomatoes, the leftover stock, and enough water until it looks like soup. I taste it. It tastes a little flat, so I add a little chicken bullion. The tomatoes add an unpleasant, "tinny" taste, so I add a little sugar. I taste it again. That's better.

I simmer until the carrots are tender, and taste again. It's pretty spicy, so I add a small can of sweet corn for contrast. Now for the "tortilla" part. I crush a couple of handfuls of tortilla chips and add them to the soup. This thickens the soup as well as adding that distinct flavor. Time to add some chicken. I season boneless, skinless chicken thighs and sear them in my non-stick pan. Cool, cube, and add to pot.

I taste again, adjust seasonings, and serve over tortilla chips and garnish with cheese and sour cream. I begin to feel the joy.

*Nigel Slater is one of my favorite food writers, and I echo his philosophy about instinctive cooking:

"Nigel is not a chef. His food is understated, straightforward home cooking that is easy to accomplish, without a trace of what he affectionately calls ‘cheffery’. He is not fond of fussy food and prefers simple suppers made with care and thought. He believes that making something good to eat for your self or for others can lift the spirits in the way little else can. “There is something quietly civilizing about sharing a meal with other people. The simple act of making someone something to eat, even a bowl of soup or a loaf of bread, has a many-layered meaning. It suggests an act of protection and caring, of generosity and intimacy. It is in itself a sign of respect.”

One of my favorite cookbooks: Appetite, Nigel Slater contains few recipes but rather the philosophy of eating and cooking pleasureably, without strictness or stuffiness. Curl up and read it.