Dunk & Crumble

Breakfast

Aunt Marie’s Healthy Homemade Granola

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When you’re a little nervous, there’s something relaxing about the rhythmic motion of stirring, and the smell of warm peanut butter and toasted oats wafting through the kitchen. Tomorrow is my first day of school, and I’m a little nervous. My uniform is laid out – chef’s coat, checked pants, neckerchief, apron, hat, side towel, black leather shoes. I’ve gone over chapter one in the big binder, learned words like épluchage and a l’étuvée, packed my notecards and pencils and pens. And I’ve mixed a big batch of homemade granola.

More specifically, this afternoon I mixed up a big batch of my Aunt Marie’s homemade granola. Even if you’re not a little nervous, I suggest you make some yourself. It’s crunchy and healthy and naturally sweet, and it was made to be scooped over greek yogurt with fruit and honey, or tumbled over a bowl of creamy vanilla ice cream. All you have to do is stir and bake and cool, and voila – toasty granola, calm nerves, happy tummy. And, hopefully, a good first week of chef school…


Aunt Marie’s Healthy Homemade Granola


There are no real set quantities for this recipe – basically, you’ll need enough raw oats to cover the bottoms of two 9×13 metal baking dishes, and enough of everything else to sprinkle liberally on top. If you’re particularly fond of a certain ingredient, go ahead and pile it on. If you’re not so fond of another, skip it (I won’t tell my Aunt Marie, even though she does know what she’s talking about. She just wrote a book, for goodness sake! Check it out here.). Just enjoy the sprinkling and stirring, and the wonderful smell of sweet, toasty nuts and grains. This makes a lot of granola, so feel free to half the recipe, but it also freezes beautifully, so don’t be shy about making the whole batch.

Ingredients:

  • Raw Oats
  • Ground flaxseed
  • Ground wheat bran
  • Unsweetened flaked coconut
  • Raw pumpkin, sunflower and sesame seeds
  • Slivered or sliced almonds
  • dried cranberries (or small dried fruit of any kind such as raisins or dried cherries)
  • toasted pecans
  • ½ to 3/4 cups of canola oil
  • ½ cup of natural peanut butter
  • ¼ cup of honey
  • 1 tbsp of cinnamon

Directions:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.

Spread a thick layer of raw oats onto the bottom of two baking dishes (9×13), then sprinkle plenty of flax seed, wheat bran, coconut, almonds, and seedson top of the oats (roughly a handful or so of each), and stir until the oat layer is flecked through.

Mix the canola oil, peanut butter, honey and cinnamon in a microwave-safe bowl, and microwave on high for about 1 minute until warm and blended. Divide the warm peanut butter mixture between the two pans and stir well into the dry ingredients.

Bake the mixture in the preheated oven for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until toasty and golden. Cool granola thoroughly before storing indefinitely in the freezer.

Makes about 6-8 cups of granola.

Buttermilk Berry Scones

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I know what you’re thinking. Probably something along the lines of: gosh, I really hope Molly has barred Debbie Downer from writing any more posts about economic meltdowns and national crises… on her food blog. And yes, I admit my last post was a bit depressing, but I can assure you that I am in quite a better mood on this beautiful Sunday. I haven’t even heard from Debbie in days.

To prove it, I will speak nary a word about under-appreciated employees today. No, today I’d like to focus on something entirely different: under-appreciated baked goods. Specifically, scones. I don’t mean to imply that you don’t appreciate the gustatory treat that is a scone. I know you, dear reader, are much smarter than that. I just mean that, up until recently, I didn’t fully appreciate the scone as a legitimate member of the baked goods family. For shame.

But really, can you blame me? For years I grew up frequenting the local Starbucks thinking that a scone was nothing more than a stale, hulking brick of heavy dough laden with cinnamon and sugar and, mostly, an ungodly amount of calories. Whether the plan was to ingest them or use them as projectile weapons, those “scones” sitting in the glass counter looked dangerous. I kept my distance and pretty much wrote off the concept of scones entirely.

Until about two summers ago, when I found myself on a family trip to Ireland. Feeling adventurous, we signed up for a biking tour of Ireland’s west coast, and spent about a week biking through the hilly Irish countryside. Aside from perpetually sore backsides and the decision my sisters and I made to wear matching green raincoats (I still wear mine, obviously), the trip was amazing. We biked along winding roads flanked by charming, low rock walls, through colorful fishing towns and farmland full of cows and sheep, stopping here and there to take pictures or browse local shops for postcards or a bite to eat.

We also took a ferry over to the Aran Islands for a one night stay at a little Inn that was so positively charming that I cannot for the life of me remember its name. (Mom, if you’re reading this, help a kid out.) In any case, I do remember that the proprietor of this nameless Inn was a very sweet woman who made fantastic scones. When we arrived, exhausted from biking a few miles from the port to the Inn against a strong sea wind, she gave us a quick tour and told us that, if we woke up early enough the next morning, we could come watch her make the day’s scones in the kitchen. I promptly went to bed and forgot about the whole thing, still being in a generally anti-scone state of mind. But the next morning, as I sat down to breakfast and was passed a plate of freshly baked Irish scones, I couldn’t say no. These scones didn’t look a thing like the huge coffee shop bricks I was accustomed to. These were small and hot and golden, and smelled enticingly of fresh butter and flour. I slathered the flaky round with butter and honey, and when I finally took a bite, I was not disappointed. I mean, I was disappointed that I had missed out on 21 years of scone-eating, but this nameless Inn scone was the opposite of disappointing. It was warm and flaky and only slightly sweet and, combined with freshly brewed Irish breakfast tea, tasted how I imagine Sunday morning would taste.

I’m still kicking myself for missing the Aran Island scone-baking demonstration, but at least now I can appreciate the scone for all it’s worth. I recently found a recipe by M.S. Milliken and S. Feninger for buttermilk scones, and when last week’s lemon olive oil cake left me with half a carton of buttermilk sitting in the fridge, I knew exactly what to do.

Buttermilk Berry Scones
Adapted from a recipe by M.S. Milliken and S. Feninger

There’s not much that the creamy tang of buttermilk doesn’t enhance, and these little guys are no exception. The tang of the buttermilk combined with the sweetness of the berries gives these scones a wonderful balance. They’re not overly sweet or rich, but are light and doughy and loaded with pockets of jammy fruit, and would make a lovely breakfast smeared with butter and eaten with a mug of hot coffee or tea. Mine were devoured by a troup of hungry thespians during the final dress rehearsal for Gypsy, but you know… to each her own.

Feel free to omit the berries or play around with other versions (dried or candied fruit, nuts, or even chocolate chips, if you’re feeling a bit devious).

Ingredients:

  • 3 cups flour
  • 1/3 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 1.5 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 3/4 cup (1.5 sticks) unsalted butter, cubed
  • 1 cup buttermilk
  • 8-10 ounces frozen mixed berries (I like blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and blackberries)
  • 1 tablespoon milk or heavy cream, for brushing
  • extra sugar, for dusting

Directions:

Preheat oven to 40o degrees F. Combine the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and baking soda in a large bowl. Cut in the butter with your fingertips or two knives until the mixture becomes a coarse meal. Add the buttermilk and mix with your hands until just combined. Add the berries (still frozen), pressing lightly to incorporate into the batter.

Dump the dough onto a floured board and roll out until about 3/4 inch thick. This will be a very messy job – just make sure you keep flouring your rolling pin so the dough doesnt stick (and try not to be dismayed by the berries that will inevitably free themselves from the sticky dough and roll onto the floor). Using a round cookie cutter or the mouth of a small glass, cut out rounds of dough and place slightly separated onto a greased baking sheet. Brush the tops with milk or cream, sprinkle with a bit of sugar, and bake for 15 minutes, or until lightly browned. Serve warm, plain or topped with butter and jam.

Makes 16-18 buttermilk berry scones.

Chocolate & Banana Yogurt Muffins

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Okay people, pop quiz! Don’t panic, this one’s easy. What do you do when you see a big bunch of overripe bananas on your kitchen counter?

Anyone fancy a guess? Hmm? What’s that I hear? Make banana cake? YES! You are the smartest.

Now for the bonus question: What do you NOT do when you see a big bunch of overripe bananas on your kitchen counter?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Okay, I’ll tell you. You do NOT, under any circumstance, no matter what, underbake your banana cake. Just don’t do it. Because I did, and let me tell you, it’s awful. Awful! Just… so sad.

There I was on a Wednesday night, happily baking away in my little apartment kitchen, my ipod set to a playlist full of Marvin Gaye, Etta James and Alicia Keys, my mind thoroughly focused on the new banana cake recipe my coworker, Karthi, had recently shared with me. After a little spooning, measuring and mixing, plus a homemade rendition of “I heard it through the grapevine,” my kitchen began to smell sweet with banana and cinnamon – just how a kitchen ought to smell on a chilly evening in March, if you want to know the truth.

That’s when everything went wrong. I peeked in the oven and saw that it was good and brown, so I took out my cake and let it cool before inverting the thing onto a plate. It looked light and springy, and slipped easily out of the pan. Success! Ahem…false.

 

Apparently I was working with some pretty crafty banana cake, because despite its deliciously brown, moist and springy disguise, one slice revealed the shattering truth: light and springy this cake was not. It was… (gasp)… raw! Full of wet, gooey, raw batter. Yuck.

I should have seen this coming. I should have done the toothpick test. How could I have skipped the toothpick test?! I spooned, I measured, I mixed! And all it got me was a soggy, messy excuse for a banana cake. I ate a piece, because, what a waste! But I was so disheartened I just threw the whole thing out. Somewhere, Al Gore is frowning at me. I’m sorry, Al! Blame it on the toothpick (or lack thereof).


So, as it stands, the score is currently:

Banana Cake: 1 Molly: 0

Whatever, banana cake. I call a rematch. And this time, I will eat you for breakfast.

Crafty Banana Cake Slash Muffins
Adapted from Karthi’s recipe

To be fair, Karthi’s recipe involved muffins. Fully baked ones. Karthi is a smart person, and I suggest you stick with her and leave the bundt pan at home. The batter from this recipe is quite delicate, as it contains no oil or butter, and it’s decidedly better suited for small, light muffins instead of a large cake. Properly baked, this batter becomes light and springy, with pockets of soft banana and chocolaty chips.

Ingredients:

  • 6 medium, overripe bananas
  • ½ cup sugar
  • ½ cup plain yogurt (whole milk yogurt is best, but use whatever you have)
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 2 cups flour
  • ½ tsp salt
  • 2 tbsp baking powder
  • 1 tsp baking soda
  • 1 tbsp ground cinnamon
  • 1 cup chocolate chips

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease two 3 x 4 muffin pans (or use muffin liners).

Mash up the bananas in a bowl with a fork, and add the egg, yogurt, vanilla and sugar, mixing to combine.

In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda and cinnamon.

Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing to combine. Add the chocolate chips.

Pour the batter into muffin tins, and place the tins in the oven. Bake for 15-30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the muffins comes out clean. Try not to forget this last step, if you can help it.

Makes 24 muffins.

Note: Though these are wonderful as-is, if you’re looking to doll the little guys up, add some pecans to the batter, and top them with cream cheese frosting, a plain sugar glaze, or a simple dusting of confectioner’s sugar.