Tag : gluten-free
Tag : gluten-free
I am going to make this soooooo super easy for y’all:
You can make lemon curd with equal parts sugar, butter, eggs, and lemon juice. If you convert any lemon curd recipe into grams or ounces, you’ll see that, on average, they all use equal parts of the four main ingredients, and then some salt, lemon zest, and maybe vanilla (definitely vanilla.) I did not know this until about a month ago, after I’d been making lemon curd for well over two years.
The most eye-opening thing I’ve learned about baking in the past few years is that many recipes have a Golden Ratio. In fact, I have my pie crust recipe memorized specifically because of the Golden Ratio for Pie Crusts (I’m officially calling it that now.) There’s a golden ratio for French tart dough, cookie dough, genoise sponge cakes, and even yeasted breads.
Now we can all sleep easy knowing the Golden Ratio for Lemon Curd: 1:1:1:1, 1 part sugar: 1 part egg (white, yolk, or whole): 1 part lemon juice: 1 part butter. The most important thing about knowing these ratios is that you can use them to manipulate your recipes: do you want a sweeter lemon curd? Maybe you do 3 parts sugar to 2 parts everything else (3:2:2:2.) Do you want your lemon curd to set and thicken more? Follow the ratio, then add in one more egg yolk, or do 3 parts butter to 2 parts everything else (2:2:2:3.) If you want more lemon-y tartness, add more lemon juice and an extra egg yolk: 2:3:3:2. If you want a thinner lemon curd, add more lemon juice or reduce the amount of butter: 1:1:2:1 (more lemon juice), or 2:2:2:1 (less butter.)
And now I’m going to blow your mind again: to make approximately 1 cup (8 fluid ounces) of lemon curd, you use 4 ounces (by weight) of each ingredient. To make approximately 1.5 cups (12 fluid ounces), you use 6 ounces by weight of each ingredient: the input of each ingredient ends up being about 1/2 of the total output. I know, super technical, but we are talking about ratios here, so it’s totally appropriate. If you can’t remember your recipe, or want a certain amount of finished curd but can’t conceptualize how much of each ingredient to use, multiply your desired amount of lemon curd by 1/2. The actual ratio varies depending on how much you cook the curd.
You might want to make 1 cup but end up with 1 1/3 cups. Let’s call that a Baker’s Cup: the baker gets to eat the extra 1/3 for their time and effort.
Y’all know I loooooove lemon and when I choose a flavor, I go hard on that flavor (cardamom and aniseed, heyyyyy!) Since making lemon curd the first time (btw, the first time I ever made lemon curd, there was absolutely no egg scrambling and I didn’t have to strain the curd at all, so there), I’ve fallen head over lemon stem for it. It seems like the perfect marriage: lemon and sugar. But there is one very helpful wedding guest: vanilla. I use the 1-quart vanilla bean paste bottle that I bought 2.5 years ago (which has more than doubled in price since I bought it so buy yours now while vanilla still exists), but you can use any form of vanilla you want. I do strongly recommend that it be real vanilla beans and not synthetic vanillin (nothing against vanillin but it’s not quite the same as real Madagascar vanilla beans.)
And the ringbearer: lemon zest. Overkill? Nahhhhhh. The lemon juice is the main flavor but lemon juice and lemon zest are slightly different flavor experiences, and adding the zest from fresh lemons on top of the full amount of lemon juice really gets that flavor. Aaaaand, here’s another kicker: 1 large lemon produces about 2 ounces of juice on average (1.75 – 2.25 ounces), and the perfect amount of lemon zest for this recipe is the zest of 2 large lemons. Therefore, all of the lemon juice you need (plus extra or minus just a bit) and the lemon zest come from 2 large lemons or 4 small baby lemons.
That was pretty long but in summary: 2 large lemons (or 4 baby lemons), 1 stick of butter (4 oz), 4 oz sugar, and 2 large eggs (which coincidentally contain as much egg as a lemon contains lemon juice), a pinch of salt and a hit of vanilla and wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
She’s rich. She’s vividly lemony. She’s got just a hint of Madagascar vanilla. She’s Covergirl.
No, she’s vanilla bean lemon curd.
Another great thing about lemon curd: You can use the recipe to make other curds, as well. Think lime or orange curd, pineapple curd, mango curd, or even pumpkin curd and ginger curd (macaron filling ideas for the win, y’all.)
luscious vanilla bean lemon curd
makes about 1 cup
4 oz granulated sugar
4 oz freshly-squeezed lemon juice
zest of 2 large lemons (or 4 baby lemons)
2 large eggs
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract
4 oz unsalted butter, cut into small pieces (about 8 pieces)
In a small non-stick saucepan, whisk together sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest, eggs, salt, and vanilla.
Place the saucepan over medium heat and bring to a simmer, whisking frequently to prevent the eggs from scrambling.
You don’t need to boil the mixture because the eggs cook at a lower heat than water boils or simmers. You should see the sugar dissolve and then a very thin layer of white froth cover the surface of the curd. It’ll look like the white foam you get when you cook pasta.
Make sure you stir pretty frequently, because the curd will cook around the edges and on the bottom before it cooks in the middle. You don’t have to whisk or stir continuously, but fairly often to prevent scrambling.
At first, it will seem like the curd is cooking slowly and steadily, and then all of a sudden, it will be thick. Once the curd is the consistency of lava (and bubbles and pops like lava in a volcano), then it’s almost done and you won’t need to stir it as often. Test the curd for doneness before adding the butter.
You can test the curd a couple ways. The first is useful for any sauce: dip a wooden or metal spoon (or spatula) in the curd to coat the spoon/spatula. Run your finger through the coating and if the curd doesn’t run along the surface of the spoon/spatula (to fill in where you scraped it off with your finger), then it’s done. You can continue cooking if you want it to be a little thicker.
The second way is the same as testing jam: the freezer test. Freeze a metal spoon, then place a small amount of the curd on the spoon and put the spoon back in the freezer. The spoon will heat up and then cool down. After about 2-3 minutes, check the spoon: if the bottom of the spoon is room temperature and the lemon curd is thick (does not move), it’s done.
The curd will thicken and set more as it cools but you can also keep cooking for about 5 – 10 minutes to get a little more of the water out.
Once the curd is done, add the butter and whisk constantly to melt it. You can place the saucepan back on medium or low heat if you need to. Once the butter is fully melted and incorporated, strain the curd to remove any scrambled bits and the lemon zest. Place a fine mesh strainer over a bowl or a measuring cup and pour the curd through, using a rubber spatula to push the curd through the strainer until all that’s left is solid (the zest or any scrambled eggs.) You might not need to strain the curd at all but it doesn’t hurt to do it anyway.
The curd will keep in a sealed container in the refrigerator for about a week, and in the freezer for a couple months.
Y’all come back now, okerrrr-d?
Categories: side dishes
I’m excited beyond words to bring you all another first, unlike any first or any recipe I’ve ever published:
My first jam recipe!! (*crowd roars and my ear drums shatter into a million pieces rendering me deaf*)
I’ve been wanting to do jam, preserves, and canning for a few years now, and I finally took the plunge last spring. I crawled to hell and back trying to find the best book for learning how to make jam, and when I stumbled upon The Blue Chair Jam Cookbook, the definitive guide to preserving seasonal fruit, I fell head over heels in love with their book.
I challenged myself to make jam 15 times last summer, but moving houses got in the way. I challenged myself to make jam another 15 times this spring and summer, and with only two months down (out of 6 because summer is half a year in North Carolina), I’m already almost halfway there (I just can’t stop…right after I took the photos of this batch, I started a batch of another recipe.)
I’ve run out of jars and am almost out of labels (mostly because I keep giving the jam to people.) My fridge is full of unlabeled tupperware containers with jam that wouldn’t fit into the jars, and the pyramids of quilted crystal canning jars on my pantry shelves are about to topple over. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to put the jam on right now, so now I have to go and make english muffins or eat the jam straight out of the container (which I totally do anyway.)
The first rhubarb recipe in the book is for a rhubarb and cherry jam, which I attempted…and burned. It was one of two batches of jam that I’ve burned since I started last April. I still had leftover rhubarb, because I was hoarding it, so I tried a regular batch. Silly old me, though, I couldn’t just make a regular batch. I had to add in something odd. I had rosewater and fresh mint, so in they went! It was brilliant and inspired, and the result is refreshing, like a mojito.
Rose is one of those flavors, like lavender and even anise, that you either enjoy or can’t stand. For a long time, I was in the “this tastes like perfume and soap” camp, but I’ve slowly moved into the “this is almost pleasant” camp. I’m still in a transitional stage, so rose madeleines will have to wait another year or two, but somehow the flavor works perfectly in this combination. Both rosewater and mint are common ingredients in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern sweets (like baklava, faloodeh, yazdi cupcakes, and halva.) The rhubarb is tart, and without the sugar it just tastes like vegetables, but with the sugar, it’s almost citrus-y. Whether you like rose or hate it, the flavor of the rosewater marries with the rhubarb so well you’ll never want to have rhubarb without it, and the subtle, refreshing mint goes well with the citrusy-ness of the rhubarb, in the same way that it pairs with the cool sweetness of watermelon.
rhubarb, rose, and mint (“Double R M”) jam
adapted from The Blue Chair Jam Cookbook, by Rachel Saunders
makes 2 cups (16 fluid ounces)
1 lb rhubarb, fresh or frozen, chopped into 1″ pieces
10 oz granulated sugar
1 oz lemon juice, fresh or bottled
1/8 tsp rosewater**
2 whole sprigs of fresh mint
**If you’d rather make regular rhubarb jam without the rosewater and mint, then just omit them and do everything else as written.
preparing the jars*
*I do my sterilizing and sealing in the oven, but you can use any other method (pressure, steam, boiling, etc.) For this recipe, any sealing or canning method will work.
Preheat the oven to 250 F/120 C.
Wash the jars, lids, and seals (if they have seals) with soap and warm water. Rinse everything and place all the pieces on a baking sheet.
Place the baking sheet in the oven to sanitize and dry the jars and their pieces while you make the jam. They should stay in the heated oven for at least half an hour to fully sanitize before you fill and seal them. It’ll take about half an hour or longer to finish cooking the jam from when you turn on the stove, so start cooking the jam after you’ve placed the jars in the oven.
Before you start making the jam, place a small plate and 3-5 spoons in the freezer for testing.
making the jam
You can use either fresh or frozen rhubarb for this. If using frozen, let it macerate and thaw in the pot with the sugar and lemon juice before you start cooking the jam, or else the rhubarb and/or the sugar might burn.
You can also macerate the fresh rhubarb. Maceration entails combining the produce, sugar, and lemon juice and letting it sit for a while, until the sugar has dissolved, the produce is soft, and the fruit has released liquid. The liquid produced during maceration acts as a buffer between the pan and the rhubarb so the rhubarb doesn’t burn or sear. It also helps the jam cook faster by letting the water start to evaporate sooner.
If using fresh rhubarb, you can skip the maceration, if you want.
Have the rhubarb, sugar, and lemon juice in a large, wide pot or pan. You’ll need something like a saucepan or sauté pan, or a Dutch oven, with sides deep enough to contain the jam or any foam if the mixture foams up. The pan/pot should be wide to allow for faster evaporation so your jam can thicken before it burns or overcooks. This large, copper preserving pan is the ideal tool for cooking jam, but a 3- or 4-quart saucier, saucepan, or sauté pan will also work wonderfully. The width is more important than the depth, so avoid using a stockpot or pasta pot. For 16 ounces of jam, at least 3 quarts is a good capacity for the pot.
Turn the heat on high and bring the mixture to a rapid boil, stirring occasionally to prevent burning. You’ll need to boil the mixture for about 20 minutes or so, until the rhubarb breaks down, the mixture thickens, and the foam subsides. The jam will eventually turn darker and gloppy like pudding. As it cooks more, you’ll notice the bubbles become larger and scarcer, and a thick, lightly-colored foam will form in the middle of the jam. Stir the mixture occasionally but keep the heat up. If you notice the jam sticks to the bottom of your pan or if you notice any burning, turn the heat down.
After about 25 – 30 minutes total, once the mixture is thick like mud or pudding and the bubbles become larger and rarer, whisk in the rosewater and whole sprigs of mint.
Turn off the stove and let the jam rest for about 5 minutes to steep/infuse the mint. Leave the whole mint the jam while you’re testing, removing it you’re ready to fill the jars.
testing the jam
Using a large spoon or ladle, skim off any thick, pale foam from the surface and discard.
Take one of the frozen spoons out of the freezer, and using another spoon, transfer about half a spoonful of jam from the unfrozen spoon to the other. Replace the chilled spoon in the freezer and let it rest for 3-5 minutes. Your goal is to rapidly chill the jam so you can see whether it’s thick enough at room temperature (it will always be thicker when it’s cold and thinner when it’s warm/hot.) Freezing the jam brings it down to room temperature fast enough for you to test it multiple times and finish cooking the jam without having to wait too long. When you’re ready to test the jam, the underside of the spoon should be room temperature, neither warm nor cold. Rhubarb jam, unlike most fruit jams, doesn’t thicken completely, so it will run a little bit. When you tilt the spoon vertically, you may see the jam run just a little bit, like thick syrup.
If it seems too thin to you, turn the stove back on and continue cooking the jam**. Taste the jam every time you test it, to determine if you need more of the rose or mint. As soon as the mint is strong enough, you can discard the herb. If you need more rosewater, add more before filling the jars, and if you need more mint flavor, leave the herbs in until the flavor is strong enough.
**Your whole sprigs of mint are still in the jam, and normally, cooking fresh herbs is taboo, but if you need more of the mint flavor, leave them in until they have infused enough for you, even through the continued cooking.
Keep in mind, though, that strong flavors will become more mild once the jam cools.
The rest of the frozen spoons are for you to continue testing.
Bring your jam back to a boil and let it cook for about five minutes, stirring frequently to prevent sticking and burning. If you see it starting to the stick to the bottom of the pan, reduce the heat a bit. Test the jam again after 5 – 10 minutes of cooking, following the same process. Keep testing and cooking until it’s your desired consistency.
Once the jam is as thick as you want it after the freezer test, move on to filling and sealing the jars.
sealing the jars
You only need to seal the jars if you plan on keeping the jam for a long time at room temperature. If you’re going to eat the jam within 2 weeks, or keep it in the freezer, you don’t need to go through the sealing process after you fill the jars. You can even use regular glass jars or plastic containers if you plan to freeze or refrigerate the jam.
Refrigerated jam (unsealed) lasts about 2 weeks. Frozen jam will last about 6 months, and properly-sealed jam can last up to a year at room temperature.
As with sanitizing the jars, you can follow any sealing process you want (the manufacturer will have added directions to the packages of your jars.)
Remove the baking sheet of jars and jar pieces from the oven and transfer everything to a cooling rack while you fill each jar (this is just because it’s easier to fill, seal, and transfer the jars from the cooling rack back onto the baking sheet, and so you avoid spilling jam on the hot baking sheet.)
Use a ladle or spoon (a flexible silicone ladle is the best tool for this, I’ve found) to fill each jar to within 1/4″ (~0.75 cm) of the rim and use a damp paper towel to wipe the rim of the jar clean. There shouldn’t be any jam stuck to the top or outside of the jar before you put the seal on.
Place the seal on your jar and screw the lid band on snugly (not as tightly as possible, but almost all the way.) Once all of your jars are filled, place them all back onto the baking sheet (if it’s not clean, get another one), and place the baking sheet in the oven. The filled and sealed jars need to sit in the hot oven (250 F/120 C) for at least 15 minutes to re-sanitize and create a vacuum so they seal themselves.
Any jam that you couldn’t fit into the jars can be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator or freezer.
After the filled and sealed jars have been in the oven for 15 – 20 minutes, take them out and transfer them all to a cooling rack. Don’t disturb the jars until they’re all fully sealed and cooled. You’ll hear popping noises (once per jar) as the lids seal themselves. They should all be sealed within about 10 minutes from taking them out of the oven. You can test the seals by pressing down in the middle with a finger: if you feel a popping, the lid isn’t sealed. If, after at least 10 minutes and once the jars are cooled, any of the seals are still open, you can put them back in the hot oven again for 15 – 20 minutes, or you can freeze or refrigerate them.
Once you release the seal from a sealed jar, store the jam in the refrigerator or freezer.
Here are some ideas for what to do with the jam:
Spread it on toast or English muffins (this goes without saying).
Use it to fill an almond-rhubarb tart (with a lattice top or frangipane crust).
Spread it between layers of sponge cake (with a whipped cream filling/topping and fresh fruit) for a spring treat.
Whisk it together with tonic water and rum to make a sweet rhubarb-mint mojito.
Serve it with some cream cheese and crackers for a nifty appetizer.
Pipe it into a donut or choux pastry for a jam-filled dessert.
Eat it straight out of the jar with a spoon (like I do).
What is more lovable than potatoes? Puppies? I think not. Fluffy kittens? Sorry, no. A French vanilla-scented candle washing away all of your soul-crushing self-doubts and broken dreams on a cozy, rainy, winter evening in a kitchen with a glass of cheap red wine and chicken roasting in the oven? Hah. Don’t make me laugh.
Being Irish, I am required by blood to love potatoes, and love them I do. Almost as much as I love cardamom.
Roasted potatoes was the first dish I learned to make…if you don’t count pasta. I mean dried, store-bought pasta that you boil in a pot for five minutes and drench in tomato sauce. I guess, then, boiled water is the first dish I learned to make, and to be honest, there was a time I couldn’t even do that right.
Once, I left the pasta boiling in the pot so long that the water evaporated and the bottom of the pot turned to charcoal. We had to throw the pot away. We have since ruined another 3+ pots (two Le Creuset stainless steel and one Calphalon hard anodized aluminum.)
Once, I tried to make gulab jamun and I put them in the water not only before it was boiling but also before I even added the sugar.
Everything, even something as simple as boiling water, needs a little practice.
After preparing pasta, roasting potatoes was the first thing I figured out how to do. Roasting potatoes is to college students with ovens what cheap drip coffee machines are to first-years living in closets. They’re simple, flavorful, hearty, and soul-soothing.
In Japan, I made oven fries on a weekly basis. For two years, I tried to get them to come out just like French fries, but alas, French fries are another adventure. Oven fries are just as delightful, though.
When I boil water, despite the old standby, I watch it like a hawk watching a soccer game until it boils. If water could blush, I’m sure it would.
When I roast potatoes, I set ’em and forget ’em. That’s the beauty of roasting (and also braising), you can dress the food, put it in the oven, and forget about it without worrying that you might carbonize the bottom of your beautiful steel roasting pan.
garlic rosemary roasted potatoes
serves 5 – 6
6 – 8 medium or large potatoes (white or Yukon gold)
extra virgin olive oil for coating
salt and pepper for seasoning
6 garlic cloves
4 – 6 sprigs of fresh rosemary (sprigs without the leaves work, as well, if you want to be resourceful.)
Preheat the oven to 450 F/ C.
Chop potatoes into just-larger-than-bite-sized pieces.
Toss the potatoes in the olive oil, salt, and pepper, and arrange them in a 9- x 13-inch roasting pan in a single layer.
Leaving the garlic skin on, smash the cloves with the flat side of a chef’s knife blade. Arrange the garlic and rosemary on top of the potatoes.
Roast the potatoes for 40 – 50 minutes until bronzed, tender, and fragrant, flipping them over once or twice throughout to prevent sticking and burning.
As they say in the homeland, “Dia Duit” (goodbye),
previous monthly muffins
Many people claim that North Carolina summers last until October, but the mornings and evenings are already feeling less like that place where my upper arm meets my ribcage and more like autumn. And the sun is sleeping much longer. Gone are the days of bright, sunny six o’clock in the morning, and here has come the season of seven o’clock sunsets.
Soon I’ll be able to step outside without my glasses fogging up. Huzzay.
We don’t normally think of blueberries as autumn fruits, but it is yet early autumn/late summer, and as long as the farmers are selling them, I’m sure as hell buying them. I’ve had blueberries in my freezer all season and am only just beginning to finish them up (I just really like blueberries muffins and pancakes, okay?)
Blueberry muffins, with lemon zest and/or buttermilk, are a classic, but I was curious to see if I could make them gluten-free. It took a lot of flour combinations and binder substitutions (I don’t buy xanthan gum; I’ve heard some people say they don’t like it when doing gluten-free baking), but now at the end of the hot and stormy season, I have found a few combinations that work for me, and I’m hoping they’ll work for you, too.
There’s no xanthan gum or anything super crazy in these muffins (though the agar-agar batch did turn out pretty well), and the flours are pretty common: white rice is always my base for gluten-free pastries, plus brown rice, chickpea, or soy flour (choose one or any combination thereof), or if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, buckwheat, and bound together with any starch (corn, tapioca, potato), baking soda, and baking powder. The first few batches tasted metallic, and most of the middle batches were gummy or crumbly, but the last few held together like their glutinous brethren and actually tasted like they were meant to taste.
These muffins will be more tender than glutinous muffins, naturally, and they pack an intense lemon flavor. I use about 2 cups or 200 grams of blueberries for a dozen muffins, but by all means, add more.
Muffins aren’t meant to last more than a day, and certainly no more than 48 hours. If you want to keep them overnight, wait until they’ve cooled off and wrap each muffin individually in plastic wrap. They can be left out at room temperature once they’re wrapped up. I usually microwave the muffins the next day, to bring back a little vitality and make them soft again.
gluten-free blueberry buttermilk muffins
adapted from blueberry buttermilk muffins, from Mom’s Big Book of Baking
makes 1 dozen
100 g white rice flour
100 g other gluten-free flour (bean flours recommended, but you can also use brown rice or buckwheat)
100 g starch (corn, tapioca, potato, etc.)
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
dash of salt
2 large eggs (2-ounce/52-gram eggs), at room temperature
150 g granulated sugar
200 g buttermilk, at room temperature
1 Tbsp lemon zest
1/2 c unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2 c fresh or frozen blueberries (~200 g)
Preheat the oven to 350 F/175 C, and line a muffin pan with paper liners.
In a small bowl, combine flours, starch, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
In a larger bowl, whisk together eggs, sugar, buttermilk, and lemon zest. Whisk in melted and cooled butter until combined.
Fold the dry ingredients into the wet, then stir in the blueberries. It doesn’t have to be perfectly mixed, as ingredients will continue to combine when they bake, and you want to work as quickly as possible.
Divide the batter out among the muffin cups (I use a large cookie scoop), and bake for 20 – 30 minutes, until muffins are springy to the touch. If they seem to be browning quickly, turn the oven down to 325 F/160 C.
Leggo my PSL, yo,
What is my favorite thing about baking, you ask?
Well, I have to test the recipes a lot before I feel confident calling them “my own,” let alone “successful,” and as a result…I get to eat a lot.
And if I’m making something buttery or high-carb-y, and my parents are on a diet, I have to eat a lot, a lot. I mean…I get to eat a lot, a lot.
When I was in Japan, I discovered the versatility of rice flour as a gluten-free ingredient, and ever since it’s become my goal to really get to know gluten-free ingredients, and to find recipes using the more common, easier-to-find, and cheaper ingredients.
Also, I started budgeting again and, y’all, it ain’t lookin’ good.
I spent the entire month of November on a muffin journey: testing out the previous monthly muffin, then attempting to make a gluten-free version, testing every flour combination imaginable (white rice + brown rice, white rice + buckwheat, white rice + half a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, white rice + soy flour, and white rice + chickpea flour.) I discovered that they all work well as long as you have a base of white rice flour, plus a high-fiber flour. You can also do 100% white rice flour for a lighter muffin, but for those of you who, like me, need to hibernate immediately, hearty is good.
I also tested out dairy and non-dairy versions: buttermilk, greek yogurt, and soy milk.
In all, I made enough muffins to feed the city, and when I was just about to start the dairy testing, but realized I had no more puree left, I picked out a recipe for the January monthly muffin (shhhh, it’s a secret. duh.) The texture of these muffins is so unbelievable, you’d never guess they’re gluten-free. None of the weird gummy-crumbly-heavy-like-a-boulder stuff, and you don’t have to break the bank searching for flours you’ve never heard of (but if you would like to do so, by all means, go ahead.) When it came to non-dairy milk, I decided just to try a totally vegan version, and those turned out as well as the rest, albeit a little smaller and drier.
All substitutions included in the recipe below.
gluten-free sweet potato ginger muffins (with vegan substitutions below)
adapted from whole wheat pumpkin streusel muffins
makes 1 dozen
80 g (2.8 oz) white rice flour
80 g (2.8 oz) high-fiber gluten-free flour (brown rice, soy, chickpea, buckwheat) or 80 g white rice flour (160 g total)
80 g (2.8 oz) starch (tapioca and cornstarch combined, or one of the two)
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
80 g (2.8 oz) buttermilk*
150 g (5.3 oz) maple syrup or agave nectar
45 g (1.6 oz) canola oil
200 g (7 oz) sweet potato puree
1 c crystallized ginger
*You can substitute greek yogurt, milk (dairy or non-dairy), or dried buttermilk. For greek yogurt, the batter will be thicker, so add a few extra grams of yogurt (90-100 g), and for milk, substitute 1:1 (80 g.) If you use dried buttermilk: 80 g water into the wet mixture and 4 teaspoons of buttermilk powder into the dry.
**You can make these vegan by using 80 g non-dairy milk and 20 g vinegar in the wet mixture, and 3 tsp baking soda (10 g vinegar + 1 tsp baking soda = 1 egg), instead of 1 tsp in the dry mixture. These will be a little drier than the recipe, so I would do 160 – 170 g syrup instead of 150.
Preheat oven to 350 F/175 C and line a muffin tin with 12 paper cups.
In a small bowl, combine the flours, starch, salt, baking soda and powder, and spices.
In a large bowl, whisk together syrup, buttermilk, canola oil, eggs, and puree.
Dump dry mix into wet and mix quickly. If desired, mix in extras (nuts, raisins, etc.) and divide evenly among muffin cups, ~3 Tbsp per cup, then top with streusel, nuts, cinnamon brown sugar, or whatever else you like.
Bake for 20 – 25 minutes until firm to the touch and a wooden toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
Remove from the oven and let cool in pan, then transfer to a wire rack to continue cooling.
I like them best when they’re topped with cinnamon and brown sugar.
Brownies are by far my favorite thing to eat and bake. I probably say this about a few different things (chocolate chip cookies, creme brulee, snickerdoodles) but let’s be real: brownies win by a long shot. I prefer them more fudge-y than cake-y, firmer and denser rather than gooey, and more bitter than sweet, usually. I could easily have made dense, fudge-y gluten-free brownies, but I’d like to learn more about how different ingredients affect the end product, and how to achieve different desired results.
The process of making the brownies gluten-free was unbelievably easy: I just substituted rice flour for all-purpose flour. At first, I made a batch using agar-agar to substitute gluten/gelatin, but when I made the second and third batches, I realized I didn’t need any gelatin. I doubled the eggs for richer, fluffier brownies, but then they were too cake-y. I ended up cutting back on the flour in the end and they were perfect. I was afraid they’d taste rice-y or weird, but I was the only person who could taste it…and maybe for the second time this year the people I gave pastries to raved about them. Like more than usual. So I guess I did something right.
I am also happy to announce that, though I’m leaving my job this year, I’ll still be somewhat involved in a very minor, and newly-formed role: the Social Media Dude for Gluten-Free JET, a special interest group within the program’s structure that was granted full membership a month ago. I’ve done social media things before, aside from blogging about my kitchen blunders, so even though I won’t be in the country, I was happy to get my hands dirty with the project. It’ll give me a chance to learn about celiac and gluten allergies, and a way to stay connected even after I’m gone (*cue helicopter sounds*.)
I started trying to learn about gluten a few years ago because my uncle has celiac disease. Unfortunately, none of the information seems to stick very well so I end up reinventing the wheel constantly. I hope that I can spend more time and effort this year on learning about the allergies, and that the information I pick up sticks with me.
makes ~2 dozen brownies (depending on how big you want to cut them)
*I used a tiny toaster oven so my own recipe is half of this. If you use this recipe, it can fit into a 9×9-inch square brownie pan. If you, like I do, live in Japan and can’t use a 9×9-inch brownie pan, use a “vat” (the half-sized pans for making roll cakes or for baking other things) and cut the recipe in half exactly.
120 g unsalted butter, melted
360 g granulated sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract (or just dump it in as you like)
120 g white rice flour
60 g cocoa powder
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 c chocolate chips
If using a conventional oven, preheat to 350 F/175 C. Line the brownie pan with parchment paper.
Melt the butter in a large bowl over a double boiler. Remove from the heat and mix in the sugar.
Mix in the vanilla extract.
Using a spatula, beat in the eggs one at a time, until each is fully mixed in.
In a separate smaller bowl, combine the cocoa powder, baking powder, and flour. Beat into the batter a little at a time (about 8 additions), but you don’t need to mix fully yet.
Mix in the chocolate chips and salt until there are no pockets of flour left.
Pour batter into the pan and bake/toast for 25 minutes (740 W if using a toaster oven). You can do the toothpick test but brownies are better without it. Slightly underbaked and they’ll be rich and fudge-y.
Transfer the pan to the refrigerator immediately and cool before cutting.
I just really want to learn everything. Especially all of the food things. I generally have trouble taking it slow and letting myself go step by step, but I also generally have trouble actually succeeding at learning the things I attempt. I’ve come up with a sizable list of things I would like to work on once I move home, and I won’t promise anyone that I’ll finish a certain number of them by a certain date. If you’ve read my About Me or the book Julie and Julia (or the movie made from the book, trailer here), then you should know how that would turn out. I’ll take my time going through as many as I can, and practicing each recipe many, many times, even posting some stories and recipes on the blog! I’ll keep the list somewhere handy to remind myself and even add onto it as I cross items off of it.
Here we go!
1. how to use a rice cooker (I’ve lived in Japan for 2.5 years and have never learned how)
2. how to use a grill (gotta get back in touch with my ‘Merican heritage)
3. how to make jam
4. Early Grey tea bread
5. French sables
6. madeleines (bought a mini-madeleine pan and still haven’t tried these)
7. mayonnaise (probably going to be the first thing I attempt. American mayonnaise is…blegh. But Japanese mayo, lord help me.)
8. rendang (Indonesian coconut milk marinade for meats)
9. peanut butter (planning on attempting first thing in August), and other nut butters, depending on the price of the nuts
10. sambal (Indonesian chili sauce/relish)
11. white wine and red wine reductions
12. gado-gado (Indonesian peanut sauce)
13. American gravy, sausage gravy
14. fried chicken
15. pulled pork
16. rice bread
17. whole wheat bread
19. jambalaya (my aunt’s from new orleans so I’ll have to pester her, hint hint if you’re reading this)
20. pickles (American and Japanese)
21. how to can/jar foods
22. almond paste, marzipan
23. soy clam chowder (because I’m lactose intolerant)
24. fudge, from scratch
25. roux sauces (Hollandaise, bechamel, etc.)
26. curry from scratch
27. coconut whipped cream
28. coconut milk ice cream
29. how to use a slow cooker
30. slow cooker meat recipes
31. French baguettes
34. gluten-free pizza
36. how to use quinoa
37. how to use chia seeds
If I can learn/practice 2 things a month (adjusting for price of ingredients), then I think I can get most of these in the next year. I’d also like to start keeping track of the prices of things I buy at the grocery store so I can become better at comparing prices and budgeting.
Wish me all of your luck. Every last drop of it.
I spent nearly a month trying and re-trying various poundcake recipes because I’m stubborn and anal-retentive. I’ve never done so much recipe testing in my life. I’ve been making poundcake in my meager but endearing toaster oven for months now, and can do it successfully most of the time. But recently I wanted to find some alt-diet recipes. Praise be to Pinterest and Google, but goddamn this country’s lack of alt-diet ingredients.
I interned in a bakery in the dark ages of college. The bakery had started as a cake/cupcake food truck, and turned into a cake shop. Cupcakes had always been one of my least favorite pastries. They were too obvious and too sweet, and I couldn’t make a good frosting to save my life at gunpoint. All that changed when I started working here. I even started liking chocolate cake…well, vegan chocolate cake. And I discovered, finally, a gluten-free pastry that didn’t linger uncomfortably on my tongue after I swallowed. How surprised was I when the owners gave me the recipes: the vegan chocolate cupcake used canola oil to substitute both butter and eggs, and the gluten-free substitute was just rice flour.
Fortunately, both of those exist in Japan. They wouldn’t survive without some high-quality rice flour, and multiple varieties of it. Unfortunately, xanthan gum is not a thing in this country. Fortunately, gelatin works just as well. With my first attempt at gluten-free poundcake, I was successful, and all I had to do was substitute rice flour (komeko, 米粉) for all-purpose flour (1:1 ratio), and throw in a bit of agar-agar (kanten, 寒天). There are other varieties of rice flour, for different purposes: dango flour (dango-ko, 団子粉) for the sweet, skewered rice dumplings; and mochi flour (mochi-ko, 餅粉) for glutinous rice buns, among others.
gluten-free toaster oven poundcake
based on the basic recipe in Many Poundcakes in One Poundcake Mould, by Yoko Wakayama (「パウンド型一つで作るたくさんのケーク」、若山曜子)
makes one 18 cm cake (18 cm x 7 cm x 6.5 cm), or two 12 cm cakes (12 cm x 5.5 cm x 5 cm)
This is the most basic recipe, to which you can add whatever suits your fancy. Make sure butter and eggs are at room temperature. Leave butter out for a few hours just until it becomes pliable. You can put the eggs in a bowl of warm (not hot) water to bring them to temperature for a few minutes while you’re preparing. Once the batter is prepared, work quickly, because the baking powder works instantly.
100 g unsalted butter, softened and at room temperature
100 g granulated sugar
2 eggs (~100 g), at room temperature
100 g rice flour
1/2 tsp baking powder (~3 g)
3 g agar-agar
Extra mix-ins or flavors (cocoa powder, green tea powder, etc.)
If using a conventional oven, instead of a toaster oven, preheat the oven to 180 C (350 F.)
Measure out all ingredients in small bowls. Combine the flour, baking powder, and agar-agar in one bowl. Crack the eggs in another.
Line your poundcake mould with parchment paper.
In a medium bowl, using an electric mixer, beat butter until pale and fluffy, about 2-3 minutes.
Gradually beat in granulated sugar and keep beating until consistent, another 2-3 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl occasionally with a rubber spatula. Beat in the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each one. Beat for another 2-3 minutes. Like the sugar, gradually beat in the dry mixture, just until fully combined.
Using a wooden or rubber spatula, fold in extras and flavorings. If using extract, cocoa powder, etc., that need to be fully mixed in, use the electric mixer.
Scrape batter into poundcake mould(s), and cover loosely with tin foil.
Toast at 1000 W for 30 – 45 minutes, until firm in the center, then remove foil and toast for 5 more minutes to brown the tops. To test, insert a wooden toothpick into the center (all the way.) If it comes out clean, the cake is done. You should also be able to smell the cake. If using a conventional oven, bake at 180 C for 40 minutes.
When finished, remove from the oven and let cool before cutting.
Enjoy! Tanoshinde ne.