Portobello Mushroom Tacos

Dear Devon,

Things are about to get a bit hectic. After a week of pounding the pavement, we found an apartment and will be moving in on Saturday. I don't know when our internet will be up and running so I wanted to squeeze in this last post before I disappear into Barcelona's landscape. I dragged out and revamped an unsent post from months ago. My geographic location may have changed but this recipe for portobello mushroom tacos is still just as delicious.

Rummaging through the fridge in search of a quick dinner, I came up with the brilliant idea of making portobello mushroom tacos. Tortillas are regularly found in my fridge. I buy them in packs of 50 at my neighborhood market. Though they aren't as tasty as your homemade tortillas, they are an adequate substitute. At $1.25 a pack, they come in handy in the 7 o'clock hour.


Rich, hearty portobello mushrooms seem an obvious substitute for grilled meats. First, I roast them with a generous sprinkle of olive oil and salt, then set them aside to cool. I slice the large mushrooms into 1/2 inch strips. Tucked into a warm tortilla, and topped with some salty white cheese and fresh salsa, the flavor combinations are astounding. The richness of the mushrooms' flavor reminds me of the damp earth. Chunky tomato salsa, flecked with jalapenos and shredded cilantro, adds a spicy citrus tang to the succulent mushrooms. The mix of salty cheese provides a nice balance to the bright salsa, while adding a bit of savory creaminess.

Vegetarian and Mexican food aren't two words that usually go together. But these mushrooms tacos defy that logic. I served them alongside eggplant and Swiss chard enchiladas to a group of veggie friends. I'd say it was a big hit. Leftovers? There weren't any, only smiling faces and full bellies.


Portobello Mushrooms
serves 2 (makes 4 to 6 tacos)

3 large portobello mushrooms
6 tbsp olive oil
3/4 tsp salt
6-8 tortillas

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with foil. Set aside.

To prepare mushrooms, brush off any dirt and remove the large woody stems. Sprinkle each mushroom with 2 tsp of olive oil on both sides (1 tsp per side). Salt both sides with 1/4 tsp salt. Set on prepared baking sheet.

Roast in oven for 15-20 minutes or until the edges are lightly browned and shriveled. Place on a cutting board to cool. When cool enough to handle, slice into 1/2 inch thick slices. Serve on a large platter next to warmed tortillas.

To warm tortillas, place tortilla on a hot griddle or skillet over medium high heat, roughly 2 minutes per tortilla. The tortilla should be pliant and hot to the touch.

Tomato Salsa
3 ripe tomatoes, diced
1 yellow onion, diced
1/2 jalapeno pepper, thinly chopped
juice of 1 lime
1/2 tsp salt

Combine the ingredients above into a large bowl and toss. Set aside to marinate for 15 minutes before serving. I don't like cilantro, so I always served chopped cilantro on the side.

P.S. These are also fantastic with guacamole. Avocado makes anything taste better.

Eggs En Cocotte

Dear Devon,

There is little to complain about and much to celebrate in Barcelona. That being said, adjusting to life here has its challenges. Aside from the obvious language barrier, which will soon be conquered, my biggest annoyance is the plumbing. Europeans built incredible, soaring cathedrals in the 12th century- how can the logic of the bathroom escape them? It seems that every bathroom should come equipped not only with a toilet, sink, and shower, but also with a mop. The flimsy plastic curtain doesn't quite reach the lip of the shower floor, which pretty much guarantees that water will splash everywhere. After three nights, I solved the mystery of how to shower without flooding the entire bathroom. Long American-style showers are not an option in our narrow, coffin-like ducha. I won't even get into the funky smells. After all, this is a food blog.

We have already had a slight laundry mishap. I don't blame our small, but adequate, washing machine. It was a case of operator error. Unfortunately, what began life as faintly rose colored t-shirt has blossomed into a still desirable, if unintentional, purple one. I'm not sure which was the culprit: The dark blue shirt, the detergent, or the water temperature (a scorching 40 degrees C or 104 degrees F for the unschooled). The difference between 40 degrees C and 40 degrees F is pink to purple.


The apartment is equipped with a washing machine, but no dryer. Using a clothesline four floors up in a narrow light shaft is a tricky operation. As of now, no articles of clothing have been lost to the neighbors' cantilevered radiator hood... but I'll let you know if my favorite shirt ends up there.

Your big question for me is: How is the food? My reply: I don't really know yet. So far, I can only tell you about the markets. Covered markets dot the landscape of Barcelona. In three days, I've been to four, two of them twice. Dining out is always nice, but what's the need when the markets are stocked with amazing produce? I bought fresh eggs from a lady who only sells eggs. I made an easy scramble with pasta, beans, and tomatoes, and fried them for ham sandwiches. These are eggs like I've never tasted before. The yolks are practically orange, when cooked they have the richness of butter and an almost cream-like consistency. I already regret when American eggs will once again be the norm.

Before leaving New York, I became obsessed with baked eggs. I first tried out this recipe for an intimate brunch hosted on our roof deck. I loved them so much that I made it three more times that week. The elegance of the dish obscures the relaxed ease of the recipe. All you have to do is crack an egg into a ceramic ramekin filled with a splash of hot cream and top it with cheese and dill. It's hard to imagine how something so simple can taste so incredible. The egg white firms up in the oven, while the yolk remains gooey and buttery. Dill and eggs are a natural combination, and when mixed with freshly grated Fontina cheese, they bring out its grassy undertones. Puncture the bright yellow yolk with a large shard of buttered grilled toast for maximum enjoyment.

Spanish eggs will pump up this already amazing dish another notch. I'm dying to try it out. But first, I have to find an apartment with an oven.

Eggs en Cocotte
(serves 2)

2 eggs
2 tsp cream
1 tsp butter
1 tsp dill
1 tbsp shredded fontina cheese
2 wedges of tomato

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange two ramekins on a baking sheet. Add 1 tsp of cream and 1/2 tsp of butter to each ramekin. Bake in the oven on the top shelf until cream-butter mixture is bubbly, about 5 minutes.

While the ramekins are in the oven, prepare your ingredients. Cut one tomato in 1/8's, finely chop dill, and shred fontina cheese. Remove the baking tray with bubbling hot cream-butter mixture from the oven. Crack one egg into each ramekin. The egg should start sizzling as it hits the hot cream. Place one tomato wedge into each dish. Be careful not to hit the yolk. Sprinkle with a small pinch of salt. Top each dish with 1/2 tsp of dill and 1/2 tbsp of shredded cheese. Pop in the oven and cook until the whites have set: 5-7 minutes for a runny yolk, 10 -12 minutes for a hard yolk.

Serve with large shards of buttered toast.

P.S. These photos were taken pre-Barcelona. As of now, nothing extraordinary has emerged from my kitchen here.

Hola Barcelona!

Dear Devon,

My apartment is empty. The piano is with a friend. A quarter of our stuff now belongs to the Housing Works Thrift Shop. And... the kitchen has been carefully packed into 80 quart plastic containers and lives in a dark storage space. My carefully orchestrated move to Barcelona has come down to a frantic dash to the laundry room and the vexing task of marshaling my electronic devices (over fifteen of them, not including chargers!). Six weeks ago, I was gainfully employed, enjoying a pleasant New York summer, and writing regularly to you. Today, I fly out to Barcelona for an extended stay. My plans are a bit hazy and my Spanish is almost non-existent. Fortunately, that won't stop me from enjoying the food!

Thanks again for coming all the way from Brooklyn to see us last night. It's always a treat to see you and Jeff. I only wish the bar were a bit quieter and had better seating arrangements. Lucky for us, we had our real goodbye on Wednesday.

The car comes at four o'clock to pick me up. I'll be writing to you from 3,839 miles away.

Hugs,
Michelle

Amanda's Torta della Nonna

Dear Devon and Michelle,

Devon, do you know that ancient-looking Italian coffee shop up the street from your apartment?  I used to go there for iced coffee - they chill it with shaved frozen coffee. Anyway, one time I was there and picked up a small tart with pine nuts on top. It was delicious and I’ve always wanted to know what it was called, and made of.  I’m not sure this is it but it didn’t disappoint.

To find the recipe I searched pine nut tart and came across this Torta Della Nonna, there are a variety different recipes, some with cream custard and some with ricotta. Mine uses ricotta and a lemon zest shortbread crust. Given the opportunity to make something with cheese... I had to make it with cheese.

Crust

10 tablespoons butter

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 cups confectioners sugar

3 egg yolks

zest of 1/2 lemon

Custard

2 cups fresh ricotta cheese

1/2 cup sugar

zest and juice from 1 lemon

3 eggs

2 tablespoons flour

1/2 cup pine nuts and an extra handful of pine nuts for topping

We don’t have a food processor so I cut the butter into the flour and sugar until the largest chunks were no bigger than a pea.  Next went in the egg yolks and zest, roughly incorporated and enough ice water added until the dough clumped together. I refrigerated the dough for about an hour, long enough to locate fresh ricotta and mix the custard.

I rolled out the crust enough to cover the bottoms and sides of a pie pan. A tart pan would be better, but I didn’t have one. I poured in the combined custard ingredients, topped with pine nuts and baked in a 350 degree oven for about 30-40 minutes, until the custard was set.

My family called it a cheesecake, which it basically is. It was good room temperature the day-of, and equally good cold on the following days.  

                                                                                                                                                                 

Best, 

                       Amanda

Pesto over Gnocchi

Dear Devon,

Basil might be the king of herbs, but my taste buds had mounted a full blown rebellion against King Basil until quite recently. Back in early April, I was a lucky guest at my friend Madeleine's rooftop dinner party. It was at her dinner party that I fell in love with basil and its pulverized sibling, pesto. She set down an easy dinner of salad and pesto over corkscrew pasta. This meal changed my summer eating habits: I've made pesto a half dozen times since that night, heaping it over everything from pasta to potatoes and incorporating it into salad dressing.

This summer, I have tried to avoid too much hot cooking, relying on quickly grilled veggies, lots of salads (olive oil consumption is through the roof), tons of fruit, and pesto everything. I am a firm believer in minimum preparation for maximum tastiness. Pesto has definitely helped me achieve this. It requires no cooking, and its ingredients are easy to come by. A food processor is helpful, though you can make it without one- something I haven't tried, but am willing to contemplate. Lot of garlic is essential for good pesto, and so is really nice basil (but that goes without saying).


I toss the pesto over a batch of soft, ridged gnocchi. The gnocchi cradle the thick pesto in their deep grooves. Topped with freshly cut tomatoes, this dish celebrates the bounty of the summer garden.

Pesto over Gnocchi

Big bunch of fresh basil
3 cloves garlic
1/3 cup grated parmesan cheese
handful of arugula
1 green onion
1/4 cup walnuts
gnocchi
fresh tomatoes
1/2 cup olive oil or more as needed

Place toasted walnuts and parmesan cheese in the food processor. Whiz until finely grated. Drop in peeled garlic, roughly chopped green onion, basil, and small handful of arugula. With the machine running, add olive oil in a slow steady stream through the feed tube. Remove from the food processor, scraping down the sides with a rubber spatula. Taste for seasoning. The parmesan cheese is already salty, so wait until the end before adding any more salt.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add fresh gnocchi and cook until the pillowy gnocchi floats to the top, less than 5 minutes. Drain and set aside in a large serving bowl. Pour fresh pesto over gnocchi. Toss to lightly coat. Chop fresh tomatoes into bite sized pieces. Add cut tomatoes to gnocchi, gently toss together. Finish with a sprinkle of olive oil for richness and a grating of parmesan cheese.

Tomato Confit

Dear Michelle,

There are few pleasures as simple or as anticipated as the first ripe, sun-warmed tomato of Summer. Cut into thick slices, sprinkled with salt, and drizzled with olive oil, the first juicy, melting, dripping bite of fruit signifies to me the end of Spring more than heat, ice cream, or sandals. It is something I look forward to every year.

But, then, there comes a time when one is ready to turn those tomatoes into something else; after all, they are very versatile, and even the best tomato salads get old when eaten every day. And, of course, there are some people who don’t like raw tomatoes. Who knows what’s wrong with them, but I suppose we must account for all tastes.



Here is a recipe to satisfy those people, and others who didn’t even know they were ready to move beyond the perfection of a good vine-fresh tomato. This is not a roasted tomato, but one that is gently melted, the flavor condensed and intensified. The slices or halves (depending on what kind of tomato is used) are cooked at a very low heat with herbs, oil, salt and pepper, garlic if you wish, until they slump into a flavorful concentrate that you’ll want to eat right off of the baking sheet.

Wells uses plum tomatoes in her recipe, but I’ve used all sorts. It is too difficult to peel smaller tomatoes, and I don’t always bother to seed them either, though my (spoiled) father will complain when I skip this step. Regular, large tomatoes should be cut in ½-3/4 inch slices. The peel will come off after cooking. I rarely bother with the garlic, unless I’m using larger tomatoes, and instead of thyme I’ll often use herbes du provence. These, especially the smaller tomatoes, can be cooked further for a chewier texture, but if you go too far you will end up with something closer to sundried tomatoes. Not the worst problem to have, for sure.

You’ll find many uses for these, not the least as a way to store extra tomatoes if you have a surplus. My parents freeze the confit to enjoy in the colder months. Tomatoes prepared this way have many uses. You can:

Puree them for a pasta sauce; mix with equal parts finely chopped artichoke hearts and olives, adding oil and vinegar to taste, as a tapenade (I made sandwiches with this and goat’s cheese one night for dinner); pizza, where they are much better than fresh tomatoes; added to omelets; tossed into a pasta salad; you get the idea.

Patricia Wells’ Tomato Confit (recipe copied verbatim)

2 lbs plum tomatoes, peeled, cored, seeded, and quartered lengthwise

Fine sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

A pinch of confectioner’s sugar

2 sprigs of fresh thyme

4 plump, fresh garlic cloves, peeled and slivered

2 Tb extra-virgin olive oil

1. Preheat the oven to the lowest possible setting, about 200F (90C; gas mark 1).

2. Arrange tomato quarters side by side on a baking sheet. Sprinkle each side lightly with salt, pepper, and confectioner’s sugar. Scatter the thyme leaves over the tomatoes and place a garlic sliver on top of each quarter. Drizzle with olive oil. Place in the oven and cook until the tomatoes are very soft, about 1 hour. Turn the tomatoes, baste with the juices, and cook until meltingly tender and reduced to about half their size, about 2 hours total. Check the tomatoes from time to time. They should remain moist and soft. Remove from the oven and allow to cool thoroughly.

3. Transfer the tomatoes to a jar along with the cooking juices and oil. Cover securely and refrigerate up to 1 week. Use in salads, on sandwiches, for pasta, or anywhere you want a rich, pure, tomato flavor.

Almond Milk

Dear Michelle,

I’ve made my own almond milk. Why, you might ask, have I done this, something rather unordinary and perhaps for many people, unappetizing?

The idea started when you and I were talking about making almond-milk ice cream. I try to keep my dairy intake to a minimum, for several reasons. The most interesting of these is that I find I do not get as hot in the Summer sans dairy, which is a very good reason to abstain here on the steamy East Coast. I didn’t drink much milk before I discovered this, and obviously, I still do eat some dairy, but I’m always looking out for a good substitute.

After trying several different cowless sorts, almond milk is the most satisfying. It has a creamy texture and a mild but not bland flavor. Unsweetened is just sweet enough. However, not all almond milks are created equal. I’ve found I like Almond Breeze (original, unsweetened) the best, and I actively dislike the Pacific brand. I suspect that when you did not like the almond milk ice cream you once tried to make, this small distinction was the culprit.

I’d already been considering trying to make a cornstarch gelato with almond milk when we had that talk. Then, as frequently seems to happen in this city, someone mentioned to me a cafe in the East Village that supposedly makes remarkable homemade almond milk. I thought about it, looked online at various “recipes” (they’re barely even that), and decided I’d try it out.

WOW. This stuff sure beats what you can buy; it’s creamier, and has a finer, more delicate but also more pronounced almond flavor. The process is easy, consisting of soaking almonds overnight, slipping them out of their skins, blending them with water, and squeezing as much of the resulting liquid out of the ground almonds as possible. These leftovers can be reprocessed with more water, with a resulting milk that is not as fine or as creamy as the first press, but can be combined if a greater volume is desired. When all the nutty goodness has been wrung out, the almond meal can be dried, and the grounds used for cookies or pie crust.

(I haven’t yet been successful with my almond milk ice cream; don’t worry, though, I’ll be sure to let you know when I am. My attempts have so far been good, but what I’m looking for is sublime!)

Anyway, here’s how to make almond milk. Also, I have no idea what's up with the weird font sizes. Sorry about that. I can't change it for some reason.

Almond Milk

Notes: Internet research says that the almond skins make the milk bitter, and thus to blanch them, but I found (the second time) that soaking them overnight was just as effective at loosening the skins, and one less step to boot. The first time I made this, I added an additional half cup of cashews for more fat, hence more creaminess. It worked, and was delicious. The amount of water and nuts can be adjusted as you wish to make a thicker, or a more watery, milk. Make sure to get raw, unsalted nuts. I’ve also heard that the raw nuts available in stores are pasteurized, but that truly raw nuts can be purchased wholesale? I just used what I could buy in the store. Lazy me? Most recipes use a “sprouts bag” to squeeze the milk out of the puree; I ended up getting a “hops bag” (for some home-brewing step or another, I’m assuming ), which worked just fine. Any fine nylon mesh bag should work, and if you don’t have access to one and don’t want to wait for an Internet order to come in, a finely woven kitchen towel would probably work.

1 c Raw Almonds

(½ c Cashews, optional)

2 c Water

Let almonds soak overnight in the fridge. Drain. Slip skins off of the nuts. Rinse. Blend with water. Strain in bag, squeezing as much milk out as possible. Repeat if desired.

P.S. If you want to save the almond meal (and why not?), spread out on a baking sheet. If you live somewhere dry, you can probably just leave this out; since New York is so steamy right now, I put it in a gas oven (left off, it is still dry and warm in there). Crumble and store in the freezer.

Blueberry Ricotta Pancakes

Dear Devon,

I had a craving for blueberry ricotta pancakes. I saw someone eating them on a TV show and couldn't stop thinking about delicious sweet, salty, creamy, juicy blueberry ricotta pancakes. But instead of paying $14 for them at Sarabeth's, I decided to save the subway fare and grab my griddle and whisk. Sunday brunch is much more enjoyable in the comfort of your own living room, especially when you can wear your pajamas.


Blueberry Ricotta Pancakes
makes 15 pancakes

1 cup flour
2 tsp baking soda
pinch salt
2 tsp sugar
1 cup milk
2 eggs, separated
1/2 cup ricotta
3/4 pint blueberries
butter

Preheat oven to 200 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with wax paper. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, and sugar. In a separate bowl, mix together milk and egg yolks. I like to use a large measuring cup for this - less clean up. Whisk the egg whites to a firm peak. Pour egg-milk mixture into flour, mix well. Mix in ricotta cheese. Do not beat in the ricotta too thoroughly. The batter should be a bit clumpy, dotted with chunks of ricotta cheese. Fold in beaten egg whites until fully incorporated. Stir in blueberries.

Bring a skillet to medium-low heat. Melt a large dollop of butter in the pan. Drop a ladleful of batter onto the hot skillet. When the surface begins to lightly bubble and the edges show signs of crispness, carefully flip the pancake. Continue cooking until nicely browned. Remove the finished pancake from the skillet and place on the lined baking sheet. Leave baking sheet in the hot oven to keep warm. Continue with the remaining pancakes, remembering to butter the pan after each pancake.

Serve with butter and maple syrup.

Vietnamese Butterbeef

Dear Michelle-

Those oatmeal cookies look terrific. I don't know how you can bear to bake anything right now; I haven't turned on my oven since before I left for the West Coast. I'd love to try those (hint, hint), as I've been missing those things that I usually do like to bake when it's not stiflingly hot and humid in my apartment, and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are my favorite. I'll share my go-to recipe with you once I'm inclined to touch the oven dial, but for know I'll have to forgo, and you seem well-supplied with oatmeal cookies for the time being.

I feel like I haven't been cooking much lately. This isn't true, of course, since we rarely go out to eat and even more rarely (like never) miss meals, but I've been reluctant to make anything elaborate or that requires much stove time. Do you remember me telling you about my foray into Vancouver's Chinatown and the incredible Vietnamese butterbeef we had there?

Chinatown is supposed to be one of the not-so-nice parts of town, but I've felt less safe in parts of Manhattan. Though much lower and wider in scale than New York's Chinatown, the shops and smells seemed familiar to me in a very pleasing way. (I love New York's Chinatown, and have worked around there for years)




As in New York, the Chinatown area also seems to have a large number of Vietnamese restaurants, and we were headed to Phnom Pehn in search of the butterbeef and chicken wings, which are mentioned in almost all of the "must-eat in Vancouver" articles that we of course checked out.

Reviews online, you know, the democratic Yelp-type reviews, are mixed. Several talk about how great this place USED to be, how bad the service is, and how it's just not worth going any more. These are balanced by declarations of love for both butterbeef and chicken wings, among other various, but not as frequently mentioned, offerings. It felt like we waited forever for our food, but I think this was because we'd gotten lost on the way over and were very hungry, salivating over the plates in front of the parties sharing our table. We knew already what we wanted, and the other two parties had both ordered those two dishes, so we knew there was something special in store for us. Taking the time to take photos of the two dishes was torture.

The butterbeef was very rare, like bloody-in-the-middle and oh-so-tender rare, sliced so thinly it easily tore into bite-size pieces with chopsticks. It was laid out on a plate with a raised lip, and the indent was filled with the most delicious sour, then sweet, sauce with the depth of beef jus and fish sauce. All of this was covered with chopped cilantro, crunchy stem and all, and fried shallots, the whole thing at room-temperature. I don't know that it's meant to be eaten with rice, but Jeff had ordered some, and it was a great way to get all of that sauce.

I've been wanting to try to make this at home since I had it; since I can't go to Vancouver every time I wanted to have butterbeef, it only made sense to try to replicate it. The hardest thing about this is finding an acceptable replacement for the beef. Since this, in all other respects, is a terrific hot-weather-no-cooking-heat dish, making my own roast beef was not an option. I'm pretty sure that's what it was, perhaps cut at a slight angle to the grain? The texture of the cut (both to look at and to the mouth) was a bit softer than the roast beef I'm used to. I went to my butcher and got a half-pound of high-quality roast beef, which I deemed an acceptable substitute. Our friend Monique came over the first time I tried my version, and we ate ALL of it, going back for seconds or thirds.

I've made this twice now, one time guessing how much of everything I added, once actually measuring. Jeff had to taste and taste until he told me he was sure I had it right, and I think it's pretty close. The only thing I'd do differently would be to add some concentrated beef stock or demiglace, or maybe just boil it all down until it's a little thicker. We ate this on sushi rice the first couple of times, then the leftovers made pretty good sandwiches. Next time I'll toss all ingredients with rice noodles and lots of sauce. I've also used the sauce as a delicious marinade for tofu.

Phnom Pehn Butterbeef (approximation)

1/2 lb thinly sliced, very rare high-quality roast beef.

1 bunch cilantro, chopped

1 fried shallot (thinly slice, separate, toss in flour, fry), and garlic if you like

1 handful crushed peanuts (my addition)

cooked sushi rice

Fish Sauce Vinaigrette:

2 1/2 T palm sugar (or raw, or if you can't get either of those, light brown)

1/4 c lime juice

5t rice wine vinegar

3T soy sauce

1T fish sauce

Mix sugar with fish and soy sauces to dissolve. Add lime juice and rice wine vinegar. Taste and adjust as necessary. Jeff thought these proportions tasted too much like fish sauce to him in isolation, but once it was on the beef he did not notice. So taste on a slice of beef--you'll want to, anyway. Boil it down if you want it thicker; add a little beef stock or jus if you happen to have it. Refrigerate.

Make rice, fry shallots, chop cilantro if you haven't already. Lay the beef out on a deep plate and cover liberally in the sauce. Chuck a big handful of cilantro on top, followed by shallots and peanuts (our own accidental, false-memory addition). I'd recommend having extra sauce, shallots, and peanuts on the table.

Enjoy!

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies

Dear Devon,

Have you ever flipped over the lid of a Quaker Oats box? On the backside, discreetly printed in light blue ink, there's a great recipe for oatmeal raisin cookies. The recipe is probably fifty years old, but how many people actually use it? If you don't know about it, I suggest you take a look at your box of oatmeal now. Because it's on every lid, I haven't bother writing it down. But for you, I will, along with my suggestions.


I first came across this recipe years ago when I went digging through the pantry and found, to my horror, three boxes of half eaten oatmeal. It is a universally acknowledged fact that people of a certain height have a hard time finding things on high shelves. The result is that mystery items can persist in our shelves until a giant comes along to rectify the situation. In my frustration, I sometimes think that anything above eye level might as well have been left at the store.


In the case of the oatmeal, I decided that consolidating the opened boxes wasn't enough. This oatmeal had to be consumed. Haunted by visions of eating oatmeal every day for the next three months, I followed Quaker's advice. Oatmeal raisin cookies bring to mind chalky, dusty, over spiced hockey pucks- but what ended up in my cookie jar was surprisingly moist, chewy, and flavorful. Since then, these cookies have made regular appearances at my table.

From the start, I substituted chocolate chips for raisins. I have never liked the sharp, pointed sweetness of raisins in baked goods. Chocolate is much better. A half cup of peanut butter folded into the batter increases the depth of flavor and adds a bit of needed saltiness. Note: peanut butter usually makes things better.



Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookies
inspired from the Quaker Oats lid
makes 36 cookies

2 sticks of butter, at room temperature
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup peanut butter
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
3 cups oatmeal
1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees, line a baking sheet with waxed paper.

Beat butter and sugars together until smooth and creamy. Whisk in two eggs and 1 tsp vanilla. Fold in 1/2 cup peanut butter. Sift in flour salt, baking soda and cinnamon. Using a rubber spatula, fold in sifted flour mixture. Measure 3 cups of oatmeal and 1 cup chocolate chips, add to dough. Cool batter in fridge for about 15 minutes.

Drop cookies onto prepared baking sheet, using two flat spoons. Space cookies about 1 to 1 1/2 inches apart. Roughly 20 cookies should fit on one 18" x 13" baking sheet. Bake in the oven for 15 - 17 minutes or until the tops are nicely browned. Remove cookies to cool on a metal rack. Cool baking sheet before preparing the second batch. I learned this the hard way.