breakfast

So this is what parsley is for.

January 12, 2017 by edlyngd@gmail.com

This recipe wrote itself last week when after making the clam-salmon stew, I had a baby plate of parsley sitting on the kitchen counter all night. I should have put it away but even with the heat whirring on much too often, last week was a cold, cold one. The parsley was okay. It was so okay that I chopped up a tablespoon of garlic and plopped it over my eggs which I fried in olive oil and a rosemary stem the next morning. I proceeded to sprinkle it with seeds, lots of lemon and whatever powdered, flaked pepper I felt like that day. Eating from that plate reminded me of the days we would eat bhaji for breakfast. Bhaji simply means vegetable and in Goa it’s a common breakfast or tea-time snack. The baby plate of whatever bhaji you chose would come with a side of chopped onions, a chilli, lime and bread. You would sprinkle some onions over the bhaji and squeeze lime over it before scooping it into your mouth with the help of a spoon and bread. If you wanted a puri (deep-fried flat bread), you could have that instead. If you’re ever in Goa, skip the beach shacks and go get mixed bhaji and chao (tea) first….

Summer fruit crumble (YAY!)

June 16, 2015 by Edlyn

I’ve been waiting for me to get my business together so I can finally come say hi to all of you, blog-style hi – with dessert. As much as I love food – and right now is the peak of food-showing off season – I just want to throw a can of baked beans over a campfire. Sunday we made this fried chicken, I invented a coleslaw (sorry America) and ate a can of Bush’s baked beans (YEAH!). It’s been beautiful. I wish I could say I was writing my first book or stand-up paddle boarding but that would be untrue. Instead, most of the day involves commuting, book-reading, bubble teas, and me hanging with the tomatoes. The biggest and best strokes of inspiration comes to me when I’m shopping for fruit-vegetables, making impulse purchases and kitchen cabinet exploration trips taken to the back of the shelves…the parts we rarely ever see. This dessert is a food baby of all these things. It’s okay to not want to cook. It’s sunny. Who needs the pressure? Not me.

Watch Broad City instead. Then come back and quote all the quotes with me.

Summer fruit crumble

This recipe makes approximately 4 ramekin-sized crumbles and is one of the easiest fancy summer desserts to put together. It’s important to have that one go-to dessert that will never disappoint and leaves you with enough time to frolic with your tomato plants or whatever it is that made it to your summer 2015 bucket-list. You can also eat it for breakfast. We did. Put this one down

You can change up the flavour by subbing cardamom with other warm spices like nutmeg or ginger. You can also swap out the fruit with whatever is in season. Don’t forget to top it with fresh whipped cream or vanilla ice-cream at the end. It’s the best best best.

The crumbles can be baked and stored in the fridge, well-covered, for 2 days. However, it tastes best when freshly cooked. But you already know this.

Ingredients

For the crumble

1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/4 cup corn meal or corn grits
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
1/4 cup cold unsalted butter
1/4 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup cashew nuts, coarsely chopped

For the fruit filling

1 slightly heaped cup apricots, halved and pitted
1 slightly heaped cup cherries, halved and pitted
1 (slightly heaped) cup strawberries, cut into 1/4 inch pieces
Juice of half a lemon
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 tbsp dark brown sugar (you can use more or less depending on how sweet or sour your fruit is)

Heat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Mix together the whole wheat flour, corn meal or grits, baking powder, cardamom and sugar in a bowl. Cut the cold butter into cubes and add it to the crumble mixture. Using your finger tips, cut the butter into the flour until the butter is pea-sized and the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Cover the bowl and place it back into the fridge so the butter firms back up just a bit. The firmer the butter stays, the crumblier it will stay.

Toss the prepared fruit with the vanilla extract and brown sugar in a small bowl. Add the fruit to the ramekins until about 3/4 full. Sprinkle about 3-4 tbsp of the crumble mixture on top of the fruit. Make sure you don’t fill it right to the top. Sprinkle the rolled oats and cashew nuts over each ramekin. Leave a little breathing room, because the fruit will bubble and maybe spill over.

Place the ramekins on a baking sheet and put it in the oven for 25-30 minutes or until the top brown and fruit starts to bubble. Take it out of the oven and let it cool for 10 minutes before digging in. Serve with ice-cream or fresh whipped cream.

(PS: ^ Sneak peak at my new comic titled “Gillian”)

Eggs on a Sunday: Over a sweet potato + pepper hash

April 19, 2015 by Edlyn

Every morning that I wake up (read: eyes open to an alarm sound) I try to reason with myself and the other half-asleep human next to me: Why? I question if I should get out of bed and wonder why I bother. Forget the fact that I have to partake in an insane morning ritual called a commute. I hate it. I never thought I would be the one doing it. Yet, here I am. Sitting in a bus and being annoyed at each and every person that steps through the door. Am I going crazy? Because I know it’s slightly…very…unhealthy to be angry at people you don’t know. Of this I am fully aware. Instead of making up stories in my head about the fun lives they lead, I find myself frowning at the ladies that “save seats” (the last time I saw this, voices were raised and somebody got slapped. Hello Mumbai. I miss your gall.) I cringe at the human that turns around and stink eyes conversations considered loud by her ears even though she carries ear plugs and all she requires silence for is shopping on an iPad. I wonder why they do this every. single. day. And there I am, sitting amidst them, telling myself I’m different. That I can float above it all and see it for its shamminess. I am so full of it.

Despite this slight shift in perspective, I am still proud of myself. I am reading more than I ever have, drawing more than my mind can contain and dreaming, always dreaming about a life that has those two things front and centre at all times. I am happy with the company I find myself in while I’m at home and the people that have been absolute gifts to me when I’m out in the world. I would have never been able to see all of this for what it is if I didn’t have to do that one thing I disliked – twice a day. I guess I am floating above it all.

As quite an anti-thesis to the “follow your dreams” bs, I’m here to make you a new pitch. Don’t follow your dreams. Dream-pursuing require leaps of faith not all of us come equipped to make. If you’re doing something you dislike – that seems to sit in the way of that free-spinning beach feeling – do it anyway. At least for a little while more. Learn from it. Let it grow you. And then just like that new fingernail that grows just enough for you to spend your anxiety on, bite it off. A majority of us only ever read about successes and rarely ever see them play out in life. I can live many lives through my books but when the last page has turned, this existence is all I have. I can’t waste my time on click bait anymore. Yes I know A took B and jumped on a plane to the world and I won’t believe what they do next. I can’t believe because behind that headline is another person doing a job to make me want more. I already got that part covered.

When you are compelled to do life in the usual way, fill the tiny spaces with work you can be absolutely proud of. Fill it with people and moments. Fill it all. Little by little, you do realise that the work will lead you somewhere. All those dreams you had about standing bang in the middle of the Mongolian steppes, will manifest itself somehow. Maybe through a painting, maybe through a person…maybe even through a bowl of food. I am certain of the karmic effect of random doodles on the back of that history textbook. There is always a plan.

Yesterday I planted flowers, cooked from a new cookbook and ran to new places. Today I got back on that bus. I am more than halfway through a new book. Tomorrow I will change the world.

Baked eggs over a sweet potato and pepper hash

It’s been a long while since I’ve done an Eggs on a Sunday post. I’m not sure why considering I still eat the most eggs of all time on every day of the calendar year. It’s making a comeback, baby. Don’t you worry.

PS: My other favourite Eggs on a Sunday post can be found here, here and here.

Ingredients

3 cups sweet potato, cut in 1 inch dice
2 tbsp coconut oil, melted and divided
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup yellow onion, finely diced (about 1/2 a medium-sized onion)
1 tbsp garlic, finely chopped
2 cups red and yellow peppers, diced
Salt and pepper, to taste
4-8 corn tortillas, warmed
4 eggs
Avocado and cilantro, to serve/garnish

Heat the oven to a temperature of 400 degrees F. Spread parchment paper on to a baking sheet and place the sweet potatoes on it. Spoon 1 tablespoon of coconut oil over the potatoes and mix well. Add the chili and garlic powder + salt over the sweet potatoes and mix until they are well coated with spice and seasoning. Spread the potatoes in an even layer on the baking sheet and place in the top half of the oven for 20-25 minutes. Cook until they are considerably soft and the edges lighten in colour. Set the potatoes aside in a bowl and leave the oven on.

Place a cast iron skillet over medium-high heat and add 1 tablespoon of coconut oil to it. Once the oil is sufficiently warmed, add the onions and garlic and saute until the onions soften, for about 3-4 minutes. Add the diced red and yellow pepper mixture to the skillet and cook for 5 minutes or until the peppers soften a bit. Add the roasted sweet potato to the pepper mixture, give it 2-3 big stirs until the contents of the skillet are in perfect harmony. Season with salt and pepper, according to your taste. Flatten the vegetables slightly with the back of a spatula once seasoned.

Crack the four eggs on top of the sweet potato and pepper mess. Pop the into the oven for 4-5 minutes or until the whites are set but the yolks are still runny. I like my yolks slightly cooked, yet runny. Go with how you enjoy it.

While the eggs are cooking, warm the tortillas on a frying pan on the stove, for about 30 seconds to a minute. Keep them warm by covering with a tea towel.

Pull the skillet out of the oven and crack more fresh pepper on top. Serve with fresh cilantro and slices of avocado on top of warm tortillas. I didn’t have it on hand but grated sharp cheddar would be so delicious sprinkled on top.

Enjoy this. It’s a good life.

Pancakes!

November 24, 2014 by Edlyn

Dear Sunday,

I was hoping you’d stick around for longer. I saw you pour that warm light on me yesterday, while I was finishing a drawing I spent too long on. It should’ve been done 25 Sundays ago but here I am. And here we are, again. There are days like you where I don’t let myself value your pace. “There’s so much to do!” I think. But it’s so far from the truth. I’d much rather listen to all the Salt N Pepa. Forever. The drawing looks excellent by the way. I took a picture of it and sent it to Gayle. I told her I’d like to have it printed on a bag. She said I should make it into a tattoo. I’ll do it. I’ll totally do it.

I got so many more of you and me days to look forward to. Actually, scratch that. Who even knows these things?! Mortal beeee-ing!

What I look forward to the most about you is the breakfast. And then the lunch. Okay so I look forward to food a lot. Which is why we are glad we had buttermilk and these pancakes. I topped it with the jam I made and fresh blueberries.

Thank you, Oh Sweet Basil for this recipe. You truly made my Sunday (and Saturday. Sshhhh.)

Warm spiced zucchini cake

September 7, 2014 by Edlyn

“The shore is visible beyond the window. And you can hear the sound of waves, and someome’s voice. There’s a hint of the sea in the breeze. Small white clouds are etched against the azure sky. And it’s summer. Always it’s summer”

On this magnificent day with blinding sunlight, I am feeling so many feelings about it not being ceiling fan weather anymore. Summer has taken its time sticking around this year and for that, I am eternally grateful. My blood runs warm and the slightest change outside makes me want to call a strike and stay home consuming warm beverages and noodles. Last week I crossed an amazing think off my list of things I’ve dreamed about experiencing: I went to a Dave Matthews Band concert in one of the most beautiful concert venues I’ve ever seen. Sitting right on the ground, surrounded by the Columbia River Valley, listening to the voice of my teenage years. It was perfect.

My walks home from work have given me a little extra time to think about all the things that I push aside when the days get too much. So far, house life has been a series of decisions on all the things we need to replace and disagreeing 1000 times about the importance of it all. For me, things are meaningless. Yet, here we are in a new house we convinced ourselves we needed. It’s beautiful in here and yet it has just enough to leave me wanting to escape from it. I think that’s a good thing. There’s an apple tree in the front and I know exactly how to find my way back. As for filling this place up with stuff, it’s going to take a while. I keep telling myself that it’s okay that there still is chaos. We aren’t robots. We have to go to work. In the middle of it all, we need to rest, watch pointless television and walk the dogs. For those of us struggling to make sense of the ease in which people summer, we have cake.

And this cake is my celebration of a summer of firsts and a summer I’m letting go off as the leaves turn. It’s okay that I haven’t had time for many many many things. I’ve done my best and deep down in my veins, it’s always summer, just like Murakami wrote.

This cake has no icing for a reason: We eat it for breakfast, after lunch and with tea. It’s almost like zucchini bread except it’s a lot more celebratory. We’ve needed some of that around this place. If you’re like me, still buying every last bit of squash I lay eyes on, make this up for yourself! I didn’t refrigerate this cake because I didn’t want it to dry out. Instead I plastic wrapped it and set it in the corner of the kitchen. It stayed perfect for the 3-day period it lasted in the house. If you feel feelings about leaving things in the open, follow your heart. 🙂

Ingredients

260 gms (2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour, plus a little more for dusting
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp ground pumpkin spice OR 1 tsp ground cinnamon + 1 tsp ginger powder + 1 tsp grated nutmeg
1 tsp salt
3 large eggs (160 gms), at room temperature
187 gms (3/4 cup) granulated sugar
1 cup extra virgin olive oil (or vegetable oil if you want a milder flavour)
2 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups grated zucchini
1 cup chopped almonds

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a cake pan or a 10-inch cast iron skillet and line it with parchment paper. Butter the parchment paper and dust with flour. You can also use a cooking spray.

In a medium bowl, mix the flour with the baking powder, baking soda, spices and salt. Set aside

Break the eggs in a large bowl and pour in the sugar and oil. Beat the ingredients using a hand mixer on medium speed for about 4 minutes. Once the sugar blends in, the mixture will start to look fluffy. Add vanilla extract to the blend. Pour in the flour mixture. Beat the flour in with the egg-oil mixture until it all combines (less than a minute). Be careful not to over mix.

Stir in the zucchini using a hand whisk or a spoon. About 4-5 big stirs should ensure that the zucchini is mixed in well. Add the chopped almonds the same way.

Pour the cake mixture into the prepared cake pan/skillet and place into the over for 45-50 minutes. The cake is ready when you insert a toothpick into the middle and it comes out clean. Once it’s done, let it cool completely before slicing into it. Or you know, don’t.

Enjoy!

Interview with my father dear + Eggs with herb-y baked beans atop a polenta cake

June 16, 2014 by Edlyn

My father’s name is Justos Eustace Francis D’Souza. Apparently, when the priest at the church was filling up his baptism certificate, he pulled Justos out of thin air and gave him this name that pissed off his father. The rest of my father’s six brothers (and only siblings) all have names that start with an “E”, except my dad. According to my Uncle Edwin, my Papa wanted to KILL the priest. This does not surprise me. My father is the youngest of his brothers and he is the main cook in our family. He loves entertaining and loves to cook new things until he can perfect it. He is a great partner to my mother, even though they are complete opposites (He can’t sit still, and she likes to take her time doing things).

I know I’m a day late writing this Father’s Day post but aren’t we the same people that say things like: “Why celebrate just one day?” If it was up to my dad, he wouldn’t give a shit. I don’t need to change my facebook photo, my face or my instagram – he’s a lot more important to us than that. He loves eating something sweet after lunch and dinner and he wakes up at 5am everyday, blasting the radio and then leaving it on while he goes off to play badminton with his friends. Muscle ache on one day? “I’m feeling better now,” he says the same day as if to convince my mother that he is not going to render himself immobile. He hasn’t done any bodily damage yet and like he rightfully corrected me, he’s 64 and looks nothing like it. He is a typical Asian father, (I’ve learnt that our continent produces very similar fatherly-types) and everything he does, he does for his family. Father’s Day 2014 is no big deal. But I feel it’s necessary to toast a man who jointly raised 3 daughters, and unknowingly taught them how to be badasses (This is not a negative thing, Mama and Dada). So here’s my interview #2 with my Dada, all the way from Goa, India.

1) White chocolate, milk chocolate or dark chocolate?
Dark chocolate.

2) Do you like having such a long and complicated name?
It is not complicated. In the old days babies were always given a minimum of 3 names.

3) Why do you sleep so early?
I believe in the early to bed and early to rise philosophy. Also it gives you a head start to do things instead of trying to hurry.

4) What’s your favourite food to cook in a hurry in the morning when you’re trying to get your wife to get ready for work?
Rice, fish curry, some veggies and marinate fish to fry later.

5) Who taught you to cook? What’s the first thing you cooked by yourself?
I learnt myself (mainly the basics) at home in Mumbai and later in Saudi Arabia when I went to meet friends at their place of residence.

5) Name your three favourite ingredients?
Garam masala, ginger-garlic paste and chillies

7) How does it make you feel when see how well you and mama have provided for your family?
I think it is our duty to look after the children when you have them. This is what has been done for years by all parents. I do not know if this system will survive in the future.

8) What made you realise you wanted to marry your wife/our mother?
I liked her the moment I saw her and all the rest fell into place.

9) What is one of the best things you learnt from your father?
To respect others, listen more than talk, and do good (if you can) to others.

10) Were you a mama’s boy?
Maybe being the youngest. But I think later Edgar was the favourite as he did not get married.

11) Who is your favourite brother?
I don’t have any favourite

12) How do you manage to look 10 years younger than 63?
I am 64 and not 63. My principle of hardwork, exercise and “early to bed” has helped.

13) What are your best memories from your childhood?
Very little as we grew up the hard way, like most of the Goans in Mumbai. Although we had other sorts of entertainment and there was a lot of love among people. Unlike now people only spend their time on computers and watching TV.

14) Is there anything you regret in your life?
Nothing! I think God has blessed me and given me more than I deserve.

15) Why do you think Bidli likes you so much? (Editor’s note: Bidli is my cat)
It is not Bidli liking or disliking me. I feed her which no one does. Surely she will like me.

16) Who’s your favourite daughter? (Mama didn’t answer this one and Jane thinks it’s me, just so you know)
I don’t have any favourites. To me I will give and do the same for all

17) When are you coming to visit me?
If your mother would be able to travel I could come to the US every year. Tough luck. Anyway, I may see if I can come someday. First you move into to your new house.

18) Do you care about Father’s Day or not?
To me it is just another day as I have to go about doing my daily chores.

Happy Father’s Day to my dad and yours, your father figures and mothers/dads who do it all on their own, with devotion and love.

Eggs with herb-y baked beans on a polenta cake

What better way to celebrate my dad with a meal I most remember him cooking for our family on Sunday. I cooked this for myself today to remember his Sunday breakfasts for us when we were younger (and even now, except we wake up too late on Sunday for him to wait around for us). I always ate what I called a “yolk egg”. I loved the white cooked and the yolk raw as a sunny day. The baked beans and polenta cake is an updated take on what I consider comfort food. Thanks to the runny “yolk egg” that my father made me (“You want one egg or 2?”), I will always have eggs on a Sunday.

Herb-y baked beans

You’re about to notice that I used canned, diced tomatoes to make these baked beans. I know I wanted a thicker baked bean situation, which I wasn’t able to get from natural ripe tomatoes. It requires some of the canning juices to form the body that makes it breakfast-y, which is why I recommend it. You can make this a day before and store it in the fridge.

Ingredients

1 tbsp cooking olive oil
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1/2 cup leeks, white and light green parts chopped
411 gms/14.5 oz (1 can) diced tomatoes
1 tsp chopped fresh rosemary
1 tsp fresh thyme
425 gm (1 3/4 cups)/15 oz or 1 can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed (if they’re from a can)
pat (about 1/2 tbsp) unsalted butter
Salt to taste

Preheat your oven to 300 degrees F

Heat up some olive oil on medium heat in a skillet and to it add the chopped garlic. Stir around for about a minute, making sure it does not brown. Once you begin to smell the garlic, add the leeks and stir for another minute or until the leeks are slightly softened.

Add the diced tomatoes, juices and all and let it simmer, stirring from time to time. Once the tomato juices have reduced and slightly thickened, add the herbs to it. Mix well and add the cannellini beans, stir around for about a minute and then take it off the stove. Using the back of a spatula, flatten the contents so they are evenly-spread in the skillet.

Cut about half a tbsp of unsalted butter or more (if you like) and put it on the contents of the skillet. If you have an oven-safe cast iron skillet, pop it into the oven for 5 minutes. Pull it out at the 5 minute mark, give it one stir and once again spread the contents evenly in the skillet. Put it back in the oven for 5 more minutes. The tomato-y flavours will have settled perfectly with the beans and you will smell the herbs from a mile away, as they bring this dish together. Season with salt.

Polenta cakes

The original recipe serves a lot more people and can be made with the help of a 9×9 inch cake tin. I didn’t want leftovers (crazy, I know) so I halved the recipe and “cuted” it up with ramekins. I used 2 ramekins, which were about 3.5 inches in diameter. They made polenta cakes that were about 1.5″ in height. Next time I try this, I might add something more to the cornmeal (CHEESE+GREENS!). For now, these did well.

Ingredients

Adapted from Food52

(makes two 3.5″ polenta cakes)

1 cup whole milk
1 cup water
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup stone-ground cornmeal (I used a medium grind)
Butter or cooking spray, for greasing
1 tbsp olive oil

In a medium-sized pot, add milk, water and salt and bring it to a boil on medium-high heat. When the liquid starts to bubble, start adding the cornmeal, a little by little, stirring as you go. Once you’ve added all the cornmeal, keep stirring the mixture for about 5 minutes until it’s thick, smooth and creamy. Apart from creating a smooth texture, the stirring also helps prevent the cornmeal from sticking to the pot.

Grease 2 ramekins with butter or cooking spray. Add half and half of the cornmeal mix to them until they are about 1/2 full. Let them cool completely for 15-30 minutes and set. This cooling process helps the polenta cakes take the shape of the container (the ramekins, in this case).

Add 1 tbsp of olive oil in a non-stick (preferably) skillet on a medium-high flame. Overturn the ramekins and the polenta cakes should slip out easily. If they aren’t doing so, you can try loosening them up with a butter knife.

Put the polenta cakes on the skillet and cook them for 2 minutes on one side. Flip the cake and cook for 2 more minutes. Once they have that even brown colour, they are done.

Serve them up on a plate. Top with warm herb-y baked beans.

Lastly, don’t forget the egg! Cook an egg, over easy and put it on the very top of this delicious breakfast-brunch pyramid.

This wasn’t the plan + Mint-coconut scones with rhubarb chutney

June 9, 2014 by Edlyn

I thought there was something wrong with today. First of all, I didn’t need to go to Seattle. I wasn’t supposed to work today. After staring at my phone all the way from Everett, like us zombie commuters do these days, I decided to look at the schedule one stop before the wonderful commissary that we convene at before the hustle. What took you so long, Edlyn? I mean you only had to wake up at 5:30 am and complain about how tired you are. Next thing you know, you hop on the 6:33 am bus (don’t ask me about the minute-specifics, somebody must be having a jolly ol time predicting these things) and get all emotional about the World Cup.

Thanks a lot, pre-made Spotify playlist.

I crossed the road and took the bus right back to Everett. No sheepishness here. None. Except it was 4 buses back to Everett. Again, no big deal. Seattle folks with their pitying faces, I’m not ashamed! Our buses smell better than yours and are mostly bigot-free.

I’m home now and happy that my day suddenly freed itself up. I made brownies. The post I was scheduled to write on Wednesday is now this post I’m writing on Monday. It’s about time too because I hear rhubarb season is ending tomorrow. You’re going to have to illegally hunt your rhubarb and find strawberries to pair them up with. Speaking of rhubarb, P!nk is coming up. She said to get this party started.

Or something.

Mint and coconut scones

These were meant for tea time, a passion of mine that rarely gets pursued in this culture/country of pasteurised milk (ew). Allow me to give more importance than these seasons require by saying these are the perfect season-transitioning snackies. I took two to work, gave three to the neighbours, ate two and gave the other two to my ol’ friendly friend husband. One disappeared mysteriously. I call them my tropical (mysteriously disappearing) scones on my other blog.

Ingredients

140 gm (1 cup) all-purpose flour + more for dusting
135 gm (1 cup) whole wheat flour
1 tbsp baking powder
37 gms (less than 1/4 cup) turbinado sugar (or your sweetener of choice)
1/2 tsp salt
1.5 tbsp fresh mint, finely chopped
Zest of 1 lime
6.5 tbsp (88 gms) cold unsalted butter (cut into small cubes, if mixing by hand)
156 gms (1 1/2 cups) whole milk
1 egg, beaten, for the egg wash
1/2-1/4 cup of dried coconut (unsweetened)

Pre-heat your oven to 425 degrees F.

In a large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients: the flours, baking powder, sugar, salt and fresh mint. Add the butter to the mix. If you’re going to use a powerful food processor, you can just cut the butter into half or quarters and pulse until it cuts into the flour. There should still be small pieces of butter in the flour.

If you’re going to break down the butter by hand (like I did), cut it into small cubes to make the process easier. Mix the butter with your fingers until the flour mixture has a coarse texture. Add the milk to the flour and knead until it all comes together. Flour a clean, working surface and pat down the scone dough. Flatten out the dough into a circle (with your hands) until it is 1- 1 1/2 inches thick.

Using a circular cookie cutter (or the rim of a glass), cut out the scones and place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Brush the scones with egg wash and sprinkle dried coconut on the top. Place the baking sheet in the oven for 15 minutes or until the tops of the scones are deep golden brown. If you feel the scones need more time in the oven, but are already too brown, cover them with aluminium foil and bake for 5 more minutes.

Let them cool for a little bit before cutting them in the middle and eating them with…

Rhubarb chutney

I love how easy this is to make. In a house where 2 people live, it lasts forever. It’s very similar to a sweet mango relish I grew up with and binge ate along with my sisters in India. Today morning I used it to make a grilled cheese sandwich with some sharp cheddar. And sour dough. Hangover-I-hate-when-I-go-to-work-by-mistake food rules! I also ate a little bit of it with my aloo-gobi (potato-cauliflower) and rice on Sunday. It’s so versatile. If you feel adventurous, you can also add some chilli powder to the mix. You will need 1 pint jar to store the chutney.

Ingredients

2 cups rhubarb, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces
1 cup apple cider vinegar
1 3/4 cups turbinado sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp, fresh grated ginger
1/4 cup raisins

Put all your ingredients in a small pot and bring it to a boil, while stirring. Once the liquid is boiling, turn down the heat and let it simmer for 40 minutes or more, if you want a thicker chutney. Keep stirring throughout the process to prevent it from sticking to the bottom of the pot and burning. You will know when it’s ready when the chutney becomes slightly harder to stir. Put the chutney into a jar and store in the fridge for up to two weeks.

Pumpkin butter pancakes + PS: They taste like clouds

December 2, 2013 by Edlyn

“You can’t stand messes.”

I could take a photo right now and put that lying lie back to sleep but that wouldn’t change his mind. He sees me walk into his room, the one with the “Juvenile Delinquent” sign on the door, and pick up shit. A week’s worth of flannel (welcome to the PCNW), socks, socks, socks, papers, cough drop wrappers, old bills, things he can find only when they’re – how can I put this without unmaking the point I’m trying to make – in a mess.

But I like messes. You should see my hair.

Or my brain.

That mess will take a lifetime to clean up. And I delay it as much as I can because I feel like I have nothing but time. I go watch a sad, sad documentary instead. I feel blessed instantly and tell myself I have nothing to complain about (I don’t) so I go fix the messes I can fix. The ones I can see and the ones I’ve made myself. They’re easy.

I’d like to think of myself as a doer. I haven’t given this much thought here but I’ve seen myself function in a job-like setting. I don’t have friends that can stand around and break me down for me over glasses of grape juice so I make these assumptions myself. I never like just standing around and I feel the urge to do things. Like a crazy person. I don’t like cleaning either. Cleaning is boring. It’s silly and it’s a humongous burden. It seems to take away from the things I’d much rather be doing .

Again, all signs seem to point to the fact that I like messes. I don’t know what he was talking about when he called me out. I mean…I really don’t.

I stand in a kitchen, pouring out cups of flour, watching the powder get in my hair and on my hands. My shirt is white so you probably won’t notice any on it. A tiny mess, no big deal. I use two bowls, spoons, plates, another three tasting spoons, okay maybe I need this bigger mixing bowl and oh my gosh, I need the food processor. So I fill the sink with dirty dishes and brush my hand along the counter top. What I made is probably in the oven and what I’m about to make is someone happy.

I can justify that mess.

In every other place, I crave some sort of order. It’s irrational. My mother-in-law pointed out yesterday that we all have our quirks. I’m reading two books right now and both of them have unsettled protagonists. It’s my luck. I’m following both stories as they pour out their hearts because I know both will reach a point where they get it. They’ll dissect every nerve that makes them swell with uneasiness and I’ll sit there and gasp (“What makes us most normal is knowing that we’re not normal“) They will understand why they’re going on this journey and they will make me feel at ease about my humanity. I’ll know that it’s okay to be a little lost, and a little quirky.

Maybe when I stop feeling so antsy I’ll write a book about it. Because it’s my silly.

Silly little mess of a journey.

I think I’m finally ready to share this recipe after weeks of experimenting. I don’t know how the rest of you test recipes but my failed tests will need to be consumed one way or another. So here’s to Saturday breakfasts that were welcomed with love even though they didn’t always taste like the sweet pumpkin clouds I was trying to create.

Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tbsp cane sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp Greek yogurt (Can be substituted with 1 egg)
1 tbsp local or homemade pumpkin butter
1 1/2 cups vanilla soy milk
2 tbsp melted butter, cooled slightly
1 tsp pumpkin spice (or ground nutmeg, cinnamon, clove and all-spice)
Oil or butter for the skillet
Maple syrup and salted butter, to serve

Whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a large mixing bowl. Melt the butter (which should be cooled, but still melty) and mix it in with the soy milk, yogurt and pumpkin butter in another bowl. If the butter is a lot warmer than the cold ingredients, it will get chunky when mixed in. This happened to me the first 5 times and it annoyed the hell out of me. My cool (okay it’s pretty obvious) tricks were to (a) pour the butter in the flour and mix the rest of the wet ingredients separately. (b) Mix the soy milk and butter together. If the butter clumps up, heat the milk-butter mixture on medium low heat stirring constantly until the butter melts. Then you let is cool a bit before adding the yogurt and pumpkin butter. I’m glad we had this conversation.

Next, whisk the wet ingredients into the dry flour mixture and stir until there are no lumps remaining. Mix in the pumpkin spice and inhale.

Heat a skillet on medium heat and coat it with oil of butter. Non-stick pans work the best for the perfect pancake flip. No pressure. Spoon 2 or 3 tbsp of pancake batter onto the skillet and wait for the top of the batter to bubble before flipping it over. Cook for 30 more seconds on the other side and flip it on to a plate. Repeat with the rest of the batter until you have a nice thick stack of breakfast. Spread a little butter in between each pancake and drizzle with maple syrup.

Eat while it’s still warm.

Dreamy eggs on a Sunday

June 16, 2013 by Edlyn

For Turkey and especially for my father, both of which/whom have a lot to do with my dreams.

In the 1960s and early 1970s, the main streets of Istanbul were empty on Sunday mornings, and as we drove through neighbourhoods I’d never seen before, we’d listen to “light Western music” (the Beatles, Sylvie Vartan, Tom Jones and suchlike) and my father would tell me that the best thing a person could do was to live by his own lights, that money could never be the object, but if happiness depended on it, it could be a means to that end; or he would tell me how once when he left us and gone to Paris he had written poems in his hotel room, and had also translated Valery’s poems into Turkish, but years late while travelling in America, the suitcase in which he kept all his poems and translations had been stolen. As the music rose and fell in rhythm with the city streets, he would adjust his stories to the beat and I knew that everything he told me – of having seen Jean-Paul Satre many times in the streets of Paris during the 1950s or how the Pamuk Apartments in Nsantasi had come to be built, of the failure of one of his first businesses – I would never forget. From time to time he would pause to admire the view, or the beautiful women on the pavement, and while I listened to his offerings of gentle and understated wisdom and advice, I would gaze at the scenes of the leaden winter mornings as the flashed across the windshield. As I watched the cars crossing the Galata Bridge, the back neighbourhoods where a few wooden houses stood, the narrow streets, the crowds heading to a football match, or the thin funnelled tugboat pulling coal barges down the Bosphorus, I’d listen to my father’s wise voice telling me how important it was that people followed their own instincts and passions; that actually, life was very short and that, also, it was a good thing if a person knew what he wanted to do in life, that, in fact, a person who spent his life writing, drawing and painting could enjoy a deeper, richer life, and as I drank in his words, they would blend in with the things I was seeing. And before long, the music, the views rushing past the window, my father’s voice (“Shall we turn in here?” he’d ask) and the narrow cobblestone streets all merged into one, and it seemed to me that while we would never find answers to these fundamental questions, it was good for us to ask them anyway; that true happiness and meaning resided in places we would never find and perhaps did not wish to find, but – whether we were pursuing the answers or merely pleasure and emotional depth – the pursuit mattered no less than the attainment, the asking as important as the views we saw through the windows of the car, the house, the ferry. With time, life – like music, art and stories – would rise and fall, eventually to end, but even years later, those lives are with us still in the city views that flow before out eyes, like memories plucked from dreams.

– (a very large) Excerpt from Istanbul by Orhan Pamuk

Broccoli and paneer omelette

This Sunday, my main aim is to gross my husband out by showing him broccoli in an omelette. We’re told so much through American TV and its picky children that broccoli is “ewwwww” (another term we learn from the Americans in the TV). Mr Stretchy Pants embodies this spirit and I still don’t understand why (“the smell, the smell!!”). It tastes normal to me, which is why I went ahead and made this breakfast…TWICE.

Muwhahahahaha….*ahem*. Must have a sore throat or something.

I like coming up with omelette combinations and this is a definite winner.

You will need two eggs, a handful of broccoli florettes, green onions and some paneer, sesame seeds, chilli-garlic sauce, salt and pepper.

Beat the eggs into a bowl and then head for the broccoli. First, run cold water over it. Separate the broccoli head from the tougher part of the stem and then peel what’s remaining of it. This will tenderise the it and make it easy to cook. If you don’t want to use it at all, chop off the whole stem and save the broccoli florettes. Break them apart randomly. Roughly run a knife through the broken florettes until they are broken up into smaller sections (like in the picture). Put these pieces into the bowl with the beaten egg. The paneer part is easy. Just chop the block into small 1/2 inch cubes and put them into the bowl as well, along with the chopped green onions. At this point it’s going to look like there are more add-ons than eggs. To that I say, great work team!

Heat up a pan and coat it with oil. Let the oil heat up and then add the egg mix to it. Spread out the broccoli and paneer around the omellete-to-be and then put a lid on the pan. Let the bottom of the omelette cook for about 4 minutes. It should be well-cooked and golden brown on the underside. This makes it so much easier to flip-over without turning it into a scramble. Which brings us to the next step: Flip it over, very carefully. It’s going to be heavy. Let it cook for a minute more on the other side. Slowlyyy slide it onto your plate. Season with salt, pepper, sesame seeds and drops of chilli-garlic sauce.

Happy Father’s Day to all the father’s and father figures, in the stars and on Earth. And to my own, thank you for Sunday breakfasts, loving Bidli, my mother and your spawns.

Eggs on a Sunday? Perhaps.

June 9, 2013 by Edlyn

“She loves onions. She puts them in everything!” he said two Sundays ago, only half-knowing that I could and I would tackle him. It isn’t something you just throw out there. Unless…you have a damn problem with..onions?

I put them in everything. What of it? After years of seeing every meal in my house start with a base of onions and tomatoes, obviously I would put them in everything. So I looked down at my arms and then went and checked myself in the mirror. *WHEW* Still brown. Now where was I…

…Like every clear-thinking, dal-soaking, chapati-rolling person that came before me, I recognise, many times a day, the contribution of this root. Too much of it and things get a bit weird. Too little and why did I even bother? I’m no onion abuser. I know where to draw a carefully layered purple line. Like just yesterday. I had 1 whole mutant onion to cook with. I have this irrational fear that if I cut something and don’t use all of it, I’ll forget about it and it will perish. Sad and lonely in the cold, white, magic, disappearing box. I never want to become too good at making things disappear unless they are lower-back pain-like things. Never (especially not) food. Convoluted, I know. I am like this.

Did I use the whole onion? Heck no. Half? No bueno. Quarter. 1/4. That’s what I went with and that’s the story of the palak-paneer from Saturday. Perfectly onioned and praised from the rooftops (from the couch in front of Benson and Stabler). Of course, I have no picture proof of two (one being my) happy-faces and tongue prints on plates but that’s only because I have a long way to go with this blogging thing.

Long, long, long, long, long.

Long.

I also have an equal amount of “long ways” to go with ever giving up onions. In everything. They belong, you know? At this moment I have four different varieties of onion in the kitchen. How can I cook the food of my people without them? Don’t know. Don’t care. Is there an ailment where too much-onion eating leads to a split personality disorder? Got it, already.

I did feel a bit strange…like every eye on the room was following me when he spoke of onions and me. It sounded 20 times louder than it actually way. I felt like a sex offender. (WHAT?) I felt like he was outing me in front of cooks that snap their fingers and pull cakes out of the oven. I felt like tackling him.

I should’ve done it, but for this other thing he said in front of the family.

Fancypants: “I tell ya what, I hate cooked spinach too but she makes this one thing..what is it?…palak-paneer…”

Me: “It’s like a spinach soup but thicker…”

Him (still Fancypants): “…And it’s damn good.”

I’ll tackle him next time.

Fridge-cleansing eggs aka I forgot how I made these

I promise, I’m thinking really hard about what exactly was going through my mind when I made these. I can tell you this much: It has leeks, potato and a red onion apart from the four eggs, and half and half. The egg whites were beaten separately and the yolks were then folded in along with the half and half. The leeks and onions were cut and sauteed in a little bit of oil (just to lightly coat the bottom of the pan). The potato was boiled in water till it was cooked but not too soft, if you know what I mean. I then sliced the potato into thin discs and lined them up in an 8 inch baking dish. I poured in the eggs, and sprinkled the leek-onion mix on the top.

As for the temperature I baked this in, I cannot recall. Draaawwing so many blanks.

Like I said earlier, I have a long, long, long, long, long, long way to go with this blogging thing.

Long.

So. Long.