Jammy Chicken

Pear Lambic Thyme Mustard.

Note May 7, 2012. Many of you may have realized my brain fart clearly visible in the photo below - pomme is actually apple, not pear. Oops. I think someone should make pear lambic, though. It sounds great.

Ever since my first dabblings in making mustard a little over a year ago, I have been making all my own mustard.

Except the yellow stuff in a squeezie bottle. I love that too much to ever give it up, and it's so obviously mass-produced that I don't think I could ever match its quirky industrial charms. Plus how cool is a bright yellow squeezie bottle?

The spiffy, grainy stuff, that I make.

Some things like mustard are worth making not because you can't buy a good product (yellow squeezie bottle notwithstanding), but because the pure thrill of making it, and the result, are far greater than the effort required.

Or, to be less long-winded, it's totally cool, dude!

The simplicity of mustard-making always amazes me. As long as you soak the mustard seeds first, you really can't go wrong.

If you don't soak the seeds first, well, it becomes a labor of love, shall we say. A rather traumatic one.

And, in this world of instant, customizable experiences, you can make mustard out of anything you want. (Well, as long as it has mustard in it somewhere.)

Port?

Check.

Brandy?

Check.

Tarragon? Green Pepper? Mint? Paprika?

Check.

Beer?

Of course. Beer makes everything better.

Even mustard.

I have used all kinds of beer - light, dark, strong, mild. Usually whatever's left over and lying around. You can, though, be a little more deliberate, a little more specific, about your approach to pairing flavors.

This combination relies on the intense pear flavor and aroma from a fruity Belgian lambic - dry, cidery, tart and robust. Delicate and sharp, thyme pairs well with the pear.

Feel free to take the basic formula and play with it by substituting any of your favorite liquids and herbs - water, wine, juices, any one herb or more or none, different kinds of vinegar. 

Experiment.

Have fun.

Feel super-smug about your mad kitchen skills, and revel in the glorious mustardy glow.

Pear Lambic Thyme Mustard.
Makes about 1 1/4 cups. 

3/4 cup pear lambic beer
1/4 cup browm mustard seeds
1/4 cup yellow mustard seeds

1 to 2 tablespoons English mustard powder, such as Colman's
1 tablespoon dried thyme

1/2 cup cider vinegar 
1 tablespoon sea salt

You will also need a food processor and a sterilized container to hold the mustard.

Combine the lambic and mustard seeds and soak for 8 to 12 hours.

Stir in the mustard powder and thyme, and let soak for 20 minutes.

Mustard powder looks quite plain but it lends a real kick. Two tablespoons have quite a bite, and if you are unsure about how robust you want your mustard, start with 1 and taste. You can always add more mustard powder later, and it is much more difficult to find tissues as your eyes are watering and your mouth is burning.

Put the soaked seeds, mustard powder and herbs in a food processor with the vinegar and salt. Process until you achieve the graininess you prefer, from a minute or two for chunky mustard, up to about 5 for smoother mustard. Stop the processor to scrape the sides down if necessary.

Store in the refrigerator. Lasts for 6 months.

Babycakes Donuts as Vegan Cocoa-Glazed Mini Cupcakes.

First, my work office flooded and destroyed my computer and everything on my desk.

Then, I was called for jury duty.

Then, I found a plagairized student paper, and his paper gave me a paper cut and I bled all over.

And that was just Monday to Wednesday.

Clearly, this was a week to find me sobbing on the sofa, desperately needing some seriously comforting comfort food. 

Chocolate was required.

No arguments, no compromises, no substitutions.

Absolutely. Positively. Necessary.

Except that the week was already so toxic, I didn't want to pile on more internal poison above and beyond the already pretty highly mounded external catastrophes exploding all around.

What's a poor, traumatized gal to do?

Besides, obviously, sitting and weeping as the smallest violin in the world plays a sad song just for me.

What I needed was action! Something to get my mind off the crappy week and pointed in a more positive direction - a direction that had cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes. Lots of tiny cupcakes. Lots of tiny chocolate coated cupcakes.

But healthy, tiny chocolate coated cupcakes.

By healthy, I mean healthy. H-E-A-L-T-H-Y.

Gluten-free. Grain-free. Processed sugar-free. Dairy-free. Egg-free. And vegan.

Nothing but healthy in these tiny tasty chocolate coated cupcakes.

Yes, that was a good direction to be headed, I think we can all agree.

And you know what?

First, I got a new computer. A super-fast spiffy shiny new computer.

Plus, I was dismissed from the jury. And they paid me a whole whopping $32 for my trouble.

The plagairized paper, that's still an issue. 

But hey, the paper cut healed up nicely.

And I ate lots of tiny chocolate coated cupcakes.

So many I felt kinda sick, actually.

At least now I feel bad for all the right reasons, and that's something.

Vegan Vanilla Mini Cupcakes with Cocoa Glaze.
Modified from Babycakes Covers the Classics by Erin McKenna.
Here's the original donut recipe, and here's a variation for vanilla icing, if you are so inclined.

Makes 30 mini-cupcakes and 1 3/4 cups glaze.

For the cupcakes:
1 cup coconut sugar
3/4 cup brown rice flour
1/3 cup garbanzo and fava bean flour
1/2 cup potato starch
1/4 cup arrowroot
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon xanthan gum
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
1/3 cup canola oil
6 tablespoons applesauce
1/4 cup vanilla extract
1/2 cup hot water 

For the cocoa glaze:
1/2 cup coconut milk
1/3 cup agave nectar
1/3 cup soy milk powder
2 tablespoons cocoa powder: 1 tablespoon black cocoa and 1 tablespoon dutch cocoa
3/4 cup melted refined coconut oil 
1 teaspoon lemon juice

You will also need 3, 12-cupcake mini-cupcake pans and a food processor.

For the cupcakes:

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Use coconut or canola oil spray to grease 3, 12-cup mini-cupcake trays and set aside.

In a medium bowl, mix together the coconut sugar, flours, potato starch, arrowroot, baking powder, baking soda, xanthan gum and salt. Gently break up any lumps in the coconut sugar.

In a small bowl, mix the canola oil, applesauce and vanilla extract until combined. Add the hot water and mix again.

Add the wet ingredients to the bowl of dry ingredients, and mix well with a rubber spatula until thoroughly combined.

Using a small ice cream scoop or spoon, drop a little less than 1 tablespoon of cupcake batter into each cup. There should be enough batter for about 30 mini-cupcakes.

Bake for 7 minutes, then rotate the trays in the oven and bake for an additional 6 to 7 minutes, or until a toothpick tester comes out with few crumbs, and the cupcakes look dry and golden.

Let cool in the cupcake pan for 15 minutes, then remove to a cooling rack and cool completely.

For the cocoa glaze:

Note: All of the ingredients need to be at room temperature.

Combine the coconut milk, agave nectar, soy milk powder, cocoa, and vanilla in a food processor. With the processor running, add 1/2 cup of the coconut oil in a slow, steady stream. Add the lemon juice, then add the remaining coconut oil. Continue to process for another minute until the cocoa glaze is thick and creamy.

If the liquid ingredients are too cold, the coconut oil will solidify instead of blending, and you will have lots of white streaks in your cocoa glaze. Don't panic. Just take about 1/3 cup of the separated glaze and warm it in a microwave for about 10 to 20 seconds until the coconut oil melts, and then pour this warmed cocoa liquid slowly back into the processor while it is running. This should re-homogenize your glaze mixture. Allow the glaze to cool to room temperature for 10 to 15 minutes. Before using, stir gently.

Now, assemble the mini-cupcakes in all their glory by gently dipping the top of each cold cupcake in the cocoa glaze. Allow the glaze to set at room temperature. Store the cupcakes at room temperature. Best within a day.

This recipe makes more glaze than necessary for the mini-cupcakes. The glaze should not be refrigerated or it will solidify like a brick. It will keep at room temperature for 4 or 5 days in a tightly sealed container.

Limoncello, two variations: Sweet Lime and Blood Orange.

I find that homemade liqueurs open up a wide variety of flavors that would not otherwise be available: sloe gin, bacon vodka, quince rum, strawberry vodka (still glowing pink in the back corner of my freezer, by the way). Homemade variations of favorite flavors, like coffee-chocolate liqueur, make for a novel dinner table conversation when you break them out with pride of place, taste fresher and less processed than the kind you buy, and cost a lot less.

Plus, it's fun.

Who doesn't like to have fun, especially when booze is involved?

For all those reasons, plus having a pile of exotic citrus that needed using up in a bad way, I decided to try some variations on limoncello. This popular Italian drink is made from lemon zest, but there are other fruit variations, such as blood orange, that sounded quite intriguing.

There are oodles of recipes: Giada, Epicurious, Imbibe Magazine, 177,00 of 'em in all.

What they all have in common is this: you zest the lemons, discard the fruit, and make a syrup of sugar and water.

Now, I want a liqueur that has loads of fruit flavor, and a hearty kick to it.

I was thinking about my wants, and all these recipes, and I said to myself:

'Self, why are we going to waste all that fruit juice?'

Myself said 'Dunno.' Very articulate, she is.

'Self, isn't that where we can find loads of fruit flavor?'

'Guess so.'

'And Self, why would we then dilute the alcohol with water?'

At which point, Self got a little peeved and belted out:

'Why do you keep asking me all these stupid questions when you already seem to know the answer, aye?'

And Self was right, I did have an answer. And that answer is so simple, so obvious.

Use the fruit juice, Luke. 

So I did.

Zest, juice, sugar, booze.

A holistic liqueur experience, two snazzy citrus flavors.

Sweet Lime0ncello & Blood Orangecello.
Based on a recipe for limoncello from Jam, Jelly & Relish by Ghillie James.

4 sweet limes or 4 blood oranges

For each flavor you make:
2 cups vodka, not best quality
1 cup white granulated sugar
juice from the citrus

You will also need a fine microplane, a strainer, and a large mason jar or other storage jar for each liqueur.

Choose sweet lime or blood orange. Use the microplane to zest the citrus very gently. You want no white pith, only colored zest. I find that one delicate downward drag on each section of citrus, without re-zesting any area, accomplishes this nicely.

 I got about 1/3 of a cup of zest from 4 sweet limes and about the same from 4 small blood oranges.

Put the zest from the lime or the orange into a mason jar.

Now, juice the citrus. I got about 2/3 cup from the sweet limes and 3/4 cup from the blood oranges. 

Strain the juice and pour into the mason jar with the zest.

Add the 2 cups vodka and 1 cup sugar.

Shake well, and then shake every day for a week. After that, shake once a week for at least 3 or 4 more weeks, or up to 6, if you can stand to wait that long.

Before serving, strain the liqueur through as fine a strainer as possible, or through a coffee filter.

Store in the freezer if you want, but it should keep in a cool, dark place for up to a year.

Serve very cold.