I have not posted a Recipe for a long while, and this is not really one, just a variation. One of our family favorites is the Middle-Eastern salad called Tabbouleh, made with bulgur wheat, large amounts of fresh parsley and mint, black olives, cucumber, tomato, olive oil and lemon juice, plus other additions ad libitum.
Yesterday when I made our weekly batch, I used Kasha (toasted buckwheat) in place of the bulgur. It adds its own distinctive flavor (sort of nuttish, perhaps a bit like walnuts?) and I think that I prefer it. There is the added advantage that the dish now becomes gluten-free; here is a link discussing that aspect, and noting other nutritional advantages, particularly buckwheat’s high levels of fiber and protein. [Edited to add: My wife does not like this at all. I do. Your experience may vary.]
---------------
On the current Episcopal calendar, this day (Sept. 8) is the feast of two nineteenth century Danish Christians: S. Kirkegaard and N. F. S. Gruntvig. The former is more generally known; the latter is more important to me because of his hymns. Our choir is working on an arrangement of one: “Built on a Rock the Church must stand/even when steeples are falling.” Here is another, which I love even better, as much for its tune Den Signede Dag as for the text: “O Day full of grace, which we behold.”
Most of all, I love the arrangement of this by F. Melius Christiansen for his St. Olaf Choir, especially the way it begins. It is a grand undertaking to sing this, which I once did at a music workshop (Presbyterian Conference on Worship and Music at Montreat, NC – that year, Anton Armstrong, one of Christiansen’s successors at St. Olaf, was the adult choir director and clinician). Here is a recording of the hymn by another fine choir, the Nordic Choir of Luther College.
I recall Mike Wagner’s sermon at the RSCM course this summer, wherein he spoke of the Collegiate Choir at Luther College (in which he sang) and “taking it home,” with “it” being what I call Connection. If one doubts what “it” or “connection” might be, this recording is a fine demonstration. May these young people take “it” with them wherever they go.
Showing posts with label recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recipes. Show all posts
Friday, September 8, 2017
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Scrambled Tofu
It is time for a recipe. I eat this several times a week and it is one of my principal sources of protein:
Scrambled Tofu (one serving)
- approx. one-quarter pound of Tofu (Firm or Extra Firm)
- Cooking Oil
- Seasoning (see below)
Put the block of tofu in a small cast iron skillet (dry, not oiled), over medium heat. As excess water is steamed off from the tofu, use a spatula to chop it up into small bits. The texture is somewhat like scrambled eggs, which explains why this is called "scrambled tofu."
After three or four minutes when the tofu is mostly dry, add the cooking oil. I use approximately two tablespoons of canola oil. Mix thoroughly with the tofu. Add a dash of salt. Saute until lightly browned (six to ten minutes), stirring occasionally with the spatula. If making large quantities, it will take a little more time to cook.
Remove from heat, add seasoning, serve. It is fun to simply put the sizzling hot skillet on the table (on top of a hot pad to protect the table!), as one would serve fajitas, and if it is just me, I eat it with a spoon right out of the skillet.
As for the seasoning, there are many possibilities. Here are some that I like:
- Thai seasoning, one or two teaspoons, with a half-teaspoon or so of Lemon Grass Powder (available at oriental grocery stores). This is my favorite.
- Cajun seasoning, about a teaspoon (or more, to taste)
- Italian seasoning, about a tablespoon. Drizzle a small amount of good Olive Oil on top when adding the seasoning. This is good on a tossed salad, or added to a plate of pasta with marinara sauce.
Or for a different approach:
- Use butter instead of cooking oil (reducing the heat), top with brown sugar and cinnamon. Drizzle some honey on top before serving.
In any of these forms, scrambled tofu is a quick and easy snack, or a good boost to a vegetarian meal that might otherwise be a little light on protein. A quarter pound of tofu has about ten grams of protein and is inexpensive.
One can also saute vegetables, mushrooms, onions, garlic, etc. with the tofu. I like to brown the tofu first as described above before adding the vegetables.
Tofu is as near to a perfect food as there is, partly because it has little or no flavor of its own. It takes up any flavor that you care to give it. With good reason, soybeans are one of the Five Sacred Grains of China, and Tofu is the form in which soybeans are most often eaten.
Scrambled Tofu (one serving)
- approx. one-quarter pound of Tofu (Firm or Extra Firm)
- Cooking Oil
- Seasoning (see below)
Put the block of tofu in a small cast iron skillet (dry, not oiled), over medium heat. As excess water is steamed off from the tofu, use a spatula to chop it up into small bits. The texture is somewhat like scrambled eggs, which explains why this is called "scrambled tofu."
After three or four minutes when the tofu is mostly dry, add the cooking oil. I use approximately two tablespoons of canola oil. Mix thoroughly with the tofu. Add a dash of salt. Saute until lightly browned (six to ten minutes), stirring occasionally with the spatula. If making large quantities, it will take a little more time to cook.
Remove from heat, add seasoning, serve. It is fun to simply put the sizzling hot skillet on the table (on top of a hot pad to protect the table!), as one would serve fajitas, and if it is just me, I eat it with a spoon right out of the skillet.
As for the seasoning, there are many possibilities. Here are some that I like:
- Thai seasoning, one or two teaspoons, with a half-teaspoon or so of Lemon Grass Powder (available at oriental grocery stores). This is my favorite.
- Cajun seasoning, about a teaspoon (or more, to taste)
- Italian seasoning, about a tablespoon. Drizzle a small amount of good Olive Oil on top when adding the seasoning. This is good on a tossed salad, or added to a plate of pasta with marinara sauce.
Or for a different approach:
- Use butter instead of cooking oil (reducing the heat), top with brown sugar and cinnamon. Drizzle some honey on top before serving.
In any of these forms, scrambled tofu is a quick and easy snack, or a good boost to a vegetarian meal that might otherwise be a little light on protein. A quarter pound of tofu has about ten grams of protein and is inexpensive.
One can also saute vegetables, mushrooms, onions, garlic, etc. with the tofu. I like to brown the tofu first as described above before adding the vegetables.
Tofu is as near to a perfect food as there is, partly because it has little or no flavor of its own. It takes up any flavor that you care to give it. With good reason, soybeans are one of the Five Sacred Grains of China, and Tofu is the form in which soybeans are most often eaten.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Red Beans and Rice, Music Office Style
This has been a busy week, so I cannot write anything profound. Thus, a recipe:
Needed:
- small Rice Cooker
- Rice, either Brown or White: 1 "cup"(see note below)
- Dried Soup Vegetables: ½ cup
- Can of Red or Pinto Beans, or similar amount of leftover "home-cooked" beans
- Cajun Seasoning to taste (I use one or two Teaspoons)
- Water
- Cooking Oil: about 1 Tablespoon
By one "cup" of rice, I mean one Rice Cooker "cup," which is 6 ounces, or three-quarters of a standard U.S. measuring cup -- and, very conveniently, one good-sized serving. Such a measuring cup supposedly comes with a rice cooker when you purchase it; the three cookers I have owned are all from thrift stores, and did not have the cups. I take a regular measuring cup and fill it about three-quarters full. One need not be exact.
Dried Soup Vegetables are handy to keep around. They can be purchased in the bulk food section of our local natural foods cooperative. If not available where you live, you can order them from Frontier Natural Products, which is the source from which our cooperative gets them.
----------
Put the rice and dried vegetables in the rice cooker. Add the cooking oil. Add water as appropriate for your rice cooker, probably an inch or so above the level of the rice/vegetable mixture, a bit more if you are using brown rice. If you have time, you can let the rice and vegetables soak for a while before cooking; I prepared it to here before Matins this morning and left it to soak until after the late Eucharist.
Plug in the cooker, and cook the rice. Have ready the can of beans. When the rice cooker clicks off from "cook" to "warm," stir in the beans and cajun seasoning, stirring to the bottom of the cooker pan (with a wooden spoon to avoid scratching the cooker). Put the lid back on and let it set on "warm" for fifteen minutes or more. Unplug the cooker and serve.
Serves one hungry person (me, on a Sunday after church. I fixed it today in my office as I worked on next Sunday's bulletins).
Needed:
- small Rice Cooker
- Rice, either Brown or White: 1 "cup"(see note below)
- Dried Soup Vegetables: ½ cup
- Can of Red or Pinto Beans, or similar amount of leftover "home-cooked" beans
- Cajun Seasoning to taste (I use one or two Teaspoons)
- Water
- Cooking Oil: about 1 Tablespoon
By one "cup" of rice, I mean one Rice Cooker "cup," which is 6 ounces, or three-quarters of a standard U.S. measuring cup -- and, very conveniently, one good-sized serving. Such a measuring cup supposedly comes with a rice cooker when you purchase it; the three cookers I have owned are all from thrift stores, and did not have the cups. I take a regular measuring cup and fill it about three-quarters full. One need not be exact.
Dried Soup Vegetables are handy to keep around. They can be purchased in the bulk food section of our local natural foods cooperative. If not available where you live, you can order them from Frontier Natural Products, which is the source from which our cooperative gets them.
----------
Put the rice and dried vegetables in the rice cooker. Add the cooking oil. Add water as appropriate for your rice cooker, probably an inch or so above the level of the rice/vegetable mixture, a bit more if you are using brown rice. If you have time, you can let the rice and vegetables soak for a while before cooking; I prepared it to here before Matins this morning and left it to soak until after the late Eucharist.
Plug in the cooker, and cook the rice. Have ready the can of beans. When the rice cooker clicks off from "cook" to "warm," stir in the beans and cajun seasoning, stirring to the bottom of the cooker pan (with a wooden spoon to avoid scratching the cooker). Put the lid back on and let it set on "warm" for fifteen minutes or more. Unplug the cooker and serve.
Serves one hungry person (me, on a Sunday after church. I fixed it today in my office as I worked on next Sunday's bulletins).
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
rhubarb - raisin coffeecake
I love sweets, but I eat too many. This Easter season, having joyfully resumed eating them, I am trying to do so more responsibly. They are a most splendid gift from the Creator, and I offer my thanks to him for giving us not just food to sustain our lives, but to make our hearts glad.
For the first time in my decades of hanging out in kitchens, I have been baking cookies these few weeks. It seems to me that a Sweet Thing can be healthy in moderation if one designs it so, and I think that I can do it better than one finds in store-bought cookies. In this, I follow the lead of Diet for a Small Planet, and a lesser-known companion book, Recipes for a Small Planet, where the desserts are not only sweet and delightful, but high in protein, fiber, and other healthy nutrients. Here follows my contribution for today. All measurements are approximate, for I assembled it yesterday in the way I most love -- without measurements, and guessing at what might taste good.
One should begin with the step I too often forget: set the Butter out on the counter so it will not be rock-hard when the time comes for creaming it. While you are at it, wash and cut the Rhubarb into small pieces, put some sugar with it (this sugar is in addition to the half-cup mentioned shortly), and set it aside. Preheat the Oven to 375 or so. Grease a 9" by 9" baking pan.
Then, prepare the Cornell Mix:
1 c. Whole Wheat Flour (it is not worth cooking with the white stuff)
1 T. Soy Flour
1 T. Powdered Buttermilk (I found some at a local grocery; it is great for cooking, because we don't use enough buttermilk in fresh form to be worth purchasing it for a recipe. If you can't find it, use regular powdered milk, or "real" buttermilk, adjusting the liquids that follow)
Add a few more things to the dry ingredients:
1 tsp. Ginger
1 tsp. Baking Powder
1 tsp. Baking Soda (1/2 tsp. if using regular milk instead of buttermilk)
¼ tsp. Salt (omit if using salted butter)
Sift the dry ingredients together and set aside.
The moist ingredients:
½ stick Butter (more or less is fine), preferably unsalted
½ c. Sugar (more if you like it sweeter)
1 tsp. Vanilla Extract
¼ c. Vegetable Oil
about 1 c. Peanut Butter (this is VERY approximate; just throw in a good-sized glop and that will be about right. Either creamy or crunchy peanut butter is fine; whatever you have on hand)
1 Egg
¼ c. (or more) Water
Be mindful of the cow and chicken involved in this enterprise, and buy the butter and eggs from sources where the animals are treated responsibly.
Cream the butter, and cream the sugar into the butter, adding the vanilla extract as you go. Add the vegetable oil and peanut butter, and continue creaming it all together.
In a teacup or small bowl, beat the egg lightly, adding the water to it (especially if the egg is "old." It takes us six months or so to use a dozen eggs, and by the end of that time, they are mostly still quite usable, but drier than they once were; a little water helps it beat up more easily. And always break your egg(s) into a separate bowl, just in case all is not well). Add this mixture to the butter/oil/sugar mix, and blend it all together.
And now, the Additives:
1 c. Quick Oats
1 c. Unsalted Sunflower Seeds (hulled. These are to complement the peanut butter, making a complete protein. And they taste good.)
About 2 cups of Rhubarb
and 1 cup of Raisins (if you have more rhubarb, use less raisins, and vice versa)
The final steps:
Add the Flour mixture to the liquids and mix well.
Add the Oats, Sunflower Seeds, Rhubarb, and Raisins.
Stir it all up and spoon it into the baking pan, smoothing it out so it looks pretty.
Bake for 45 minutes to an hour or so, until it browns slightly on top and a toothpick comes out clean.
Enjoy. It is very crumbly if you eat it while it is still hot (I did; I have no patience), but exceedingly good. A bit of reduced fat vanilla ice cream on top doesn't hurt, either. Once it cools down, it remains quite moist, similar in texture to a carrot cake. As with the same, I suspect it would be good with a cream-cheese frosting, but I'm not going there; "Eat responsibly," I tell myself.
This is pretty good as a high-protein dessert, if you don't mind the modest amount of saturated fat, and the calories. I suspect it has a few.
[P.S. -- if you are going to keep it around for more than three or four days, put it in the refrigerator. With all that rhubarb and sugar, the one I made last Monday has started to ferment, what is left of it, that is.]
For the first time in my decades of hanging out in kitchens, I have been baking cookies these few weeks. It seems to me that a Sweet Thing can be healthy in moderation if one designs it so, and I think that I can do it better than one finds in store-bought cookies. In this, I follow the lead of Diet for a Small Planet, and a lesser-known companion book, Recipes for a Small Planet, where the desserts are not only sweet and delightful, but high in protein, fiber, and other healthy nutrients. Here follows my contribution for today. All measurements are approximate, for I assembled it yesterday in the way I most love -- without measurements, and guessing at what might taste good.
One should begin with the step I too often forget: set the Butter out on the counter so it will not be rock-hard when the time comes for creaming it. While you are at it, wash and cut the Rhubarb into small pieces, put some sugar with it (this sugar is in addition to the half-cup mentioned shortly), and set it aside. Preheat the Oven to 375 or so. Grease a 9" by 9" baking pan.
Then, prepare the Cornell Mix:
1 c. Whole Wheat Flour (it is not worth cooking with the white stuff)
1 T. Soy Flour
1 T. Powdered Buttermilk (I found some at a local grocery; it is great for cooking, because we don't use enough buttermilk in fresh form to be worth purchasing it for a recipe. If you can't find it, use regular powdered milk, or "real" buttermilk, adjusting the liquids that follow)
Add a few more things to the dry ingredients:
1 tsp. Ginger
1 tsp. Baking Powder
1 tsp. Baking Soda (1/2 tsp. if using regular milk instead of buttermilk)
¼ tsp. Salt (omit if using salted butter)
Sift the dry ingredients together and set aside.
The moist ingredients:
½ stick Butter (more or less is fine), preferably unsalted
½ c. Sugar (more if you like it sweeter)
1 tsp. Vanilla Extract
¼ c. Vegetable Oil
about 1 c. Peanut Butter (this is VERY approximate; just throw in a good-sized glop and that will be about right. Either creamy or crunchy peanut butter is fine; whatever you have on hand)
1 Egg
¼ c. (or more) Water
Be mindful of the cow and chicken involved in this enterprise, and buy the butter and eggs from sources where the animals are treated responsibly.
Cream the butter, and cream the sugar into the butter, adding the vanilla extract as you go. Add the vegetable oil and peanut butter, and continue creaming it all together.
In a teacup or small bowl, beat the egg lightly, adding the water to it (especially if the egg is "old." It takes us six months or so to use a dozen eggs, and by the end of that time, they are mostly still quite usable, but drier than they once were; a little water helps it beat up more easily. And always break your egg(s) into a separate bowl, just in case all is not well). Add this mixture to the butter/oil/sugar mix, and blend it all together.
And now, the Additives:
1 c. Quick Oats
1 c. Unsalted Sunflower Seeds (hulled. These are to complement the peanut butter, making a complete protein. And they taste good.)
About 2 cups of Rhubarb
and 1 cup of Raisins (if you have more rhubarb, use less raisins, and vice versa)
The final steps:
Add the Flour mixture to the liquids and mix well.
Add the Oats, Sunflower Seeds, Rhubarb, and Raisins.
Stir it all up and spoon it into the baking pan, smoothing it out so it looks pretty.
Bake for 45 minutes to an hour or so, until it browns slightly on top and a toothpick comes out clean.
Enjoy. It is very crumbly if you eat it while it is still hot (I did; I have no patience), but exceedingly good. A bit of reduced fat vanilla ice cream on top doesn't hurt, either. Once it cools down, it remains quite moist, similar in texture to a carrot cake. As with the same, I suspect it would be good with a cream-cheese frosting, but I'm not going there; "Eat responsibly," I tell myself.
This is pretty good as a high-protein dessert, if you don't mind the modest amount of saturated fat, and the calories. I suspect it has a few.
[P.S. -- if you are going to keep it around for more than three or four days, put it in the refrigerator. With all that rhubarb and sugar, the one I made last Monday has started to ferment, what is left of it, that is.]
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
some thoughts on Lembas
One of my daily foods is bread. I make my own, using a bread machine: a rye and whole-wheat yeast bread with raisins and (when available) cranberries, sweetened with honey and sorghum. It is dense, dark, complex in flavor, and I love it.
This Lent, it occurred to me that I ought to give it up. In its stead, I am eating hardtack. My recipe is based on "The Joy of Cooking's" recipe for "Ship's Biscuit," with a good bit of adaptation to make it healthier. I had not made any for several years, but I used to make it as hiking or automobile-journey and camping food. I think of it as Lembas, the "waybread" of the Elves.
In reality, what I make is a form of "Cram," the waybread of the Men of Dale, for I am human, not elvish, not given the grace to make something as high and good as Lembas. But Our Lord took common human bread, not the bread of angels, and made it into the Holy Sacrament of his Body, so even our most usual bread has spiritual connotations, if we are open to them and eat with thankfulness.
Here is my recipe:
1 cup rye flour (see note below)
3 cups whole wheat flour
¼ cup soy flour
¼ cup powdered milk
(the above two ingredients, when added to the flours, make "Cornell mix," a complete protein)
optional - ¼ cup brewer's yeast (adds more nutrition, and a very nice flavor)
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ cup or less of vegetable oil
(Note: Rye's quick-growing properties, even in climates with limited sunshine, are perhaps what JRRT had in mind as the grain used for lembas. From "History of Middle-Earth," vol. XII: "The Eldar say that they first received this food from the Valar in the beginning of their days in the Great Journey. For it was made of a kind of corn which Yavanna brought forth in the fields of Aman, and some she sent to them by the hand of Oromë for their succour upon the long march. . . .
Now this corn had in it the strong life of Aman, which it could impart to those who had the need and right to use the bread. If it was sown at any season, save in frost, it soon sprouted and grew swiftly, though it did not thrive in the shadow of plants of Middle-earth and would not endure winds that came out of the North while Morgoth dwelt there. Else it needed only a little sunlight to ripen; for it took swiftly and multiplied all the vigour of any light that fell on it."
I once tried this recipe made entirely from rye flour; it is possible, but it turns out much better with the whole-wheat flour. It can be made from 100% whole-wheat flour, but I use the cup of rye flour for its connection in my mind with the above Lembas lore from JRRT.)
Back to the recipe:
Mix the dry ingredients. Add the vegetable oil to enough water to make a stiff dough (about 1-1/2 cups, usually).
Turn it out on a board, and pound it with a mallet until it is about ½ inch thick. Fold it six layers thick (i.e., in thirds one direction, then in half the other direction). Pound it flat again. Repeat the process five or six times.
[Note: I live in an apartment, and the neighbors (and my wife) complain about the noise when I use the mallet, so I roll it out with a rolling pin instead. This works just as well, but you have to lean into it pretty hard.]
The final time, when it is about ½ inch thick, cut into shapes as desired (I do 1 inch squares), and bake on an ungreased baking sheet thirty minutes or more at 350 degrees, or until lightly browned.
The first time I made it, the surprise was the texture. I was expecting something cracker-like, or rock-hard as proper Hardtack is supposed to be. Instead, the little one-inch biscuits are, well, sort of "springy." Even without any leavening, all that folding introduces enough air so that they raise just a little bit, and have a very satisfying feel to them. They must, nonetheless, be eaten slowly; they are not something to wolf down.
From "The Fellowship of the Ring," chapter eight: "The food was mostly in the form of very thin cakes, made of meal that was baked a light brown on the outside, and inside was the colour of cream."
Mine are lightly browned on the outside and have just a bit of color inside. "Colour of cream?" Well, sort of. What one tastes is the elusive hint of natural sweetness from the whole grains. They are quite sturdy, but if broken, they tend to crumble.
The best part is their compactness and satisfying nature for hiking or other travelling; four or five one inch squares and a handful of nuts (I do a mix of sunflower seeds and peanuts) and a bit of dried fruit, all washed down with water, makes a very satisfying meal. Not filling by any means, but one finds that one can keep going all morning (or afternoon) on it. I have lived quite comfortably on this diet for trips up to a week. In hot weather, the biscuits start getting moldy after five or six days - I am not sure how wise it is, but I scrape off the mold and eat them anyway. That works well enough so long as the mold is not excessive, for the surface is so firm and non-porous that the mold does not penetrate for a long time and can be scraped off with a knife or a fingernail. With hardtack, one of the standard preparations in the old days before eating it (besides scraping off the mold) was to whack it hard on a tabletop, so that the weevils would scurry out. I have not faced that problem. Nor, sadly, have I mastered the art of making and storing it so that it will last for a long time. During the War Between the States in the 1860's, some in the Union Army were fed hardtack that had been baked and "put up" during the War of 1812. "Tastes the same as when it was baked," the men said (with considerable irony).
With Cram, JRRT was doubtless thinking of ship's biscuit, which had been a staple of the Royal Navy for generations and probably used in the Royal Army during his military service. He described Cram as "more of a chewing exercise" than anything else; certainly true of hardtack when it is well-aged. "Molar-breakers" is one term for it, and many creative ways to soften it to an edible state were developed, such as soaking it in coffee.
Though it has similarities, Lembas is something other than Cram. JRRT was perhaps thinking of Eucharistic wafers, the "viaticum," and the connections of the Eucharistic bread with Scripture passages such as St. John chapter 6 - ("I am the bread of life... he that eats this bread will live for ever." - vv. 48, 51) and with the Manna in the desert: Psalm 78:25, "So mortals ate the bread of angels..." Manna fits some aspects of the Lembas description very well: Exodus 16:31 - "And the house of Israel called the name thereof Manna: and it was like coriander seed, white; and the taste of it was like wafers made with honey." The people lived almost exclusively on manna for forty years, and although it satisfied every need, it did not satisfy desire: they grew tired enough of it to complain and desire the "fleshpots of Egypt" with the onions and leeks and cucumbers.
From "The Return of the King," chapter three: "The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have lain down to die. It did not satisfy desire, and at times Sam's mind was filled with the memories of food, and the longing for simple bread and meats. And yet, this way bread of the Elves had potency that increased as travelers relied upon it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and it gave strength to endure, and to master sinew and limb beyond the measure of mortal kind."
At Easter, I plan to return to my yeast bread. I look forward to it, as Aragorn and the hobbits looked forward to the tables of the House of Elrond. But for now, I am finding my "lembas" satisfying in ways that I cannot explain except in spiritual terms. And I find that their virtue grows as this journey of Lent proceeds.
This Lent, it occurred to me that I ought to give it up. In its stead, I am eating hardtack. My recipe is based on "The Joy of Cooking's" recipe for "Ship's Biscuit," with a good bit of adaptation to make it healthier. I had not made any for several years, but I used to make it as hiking or automobile-journey and camping food. I think of it as Lembas, the "waybread" of the Elves.
In reality, what I make is a form of "Cram," the waybread of the Men of Dale, for I am human, not elvish, not given the grace to make something as high and good as Lembas. But Our Lord took common human bread, not the bread of angels, and made it into the Holy Sacrament of his Body, so even our most usual bread has spiritual connotations, if we are open to them and eat with thankfulness.
Here is my recipe:
1 cup rye flour (see note below)
3 cups whole wheat flour
¼ cup soy flour
¼ cup powdered milk
(the above two ingredients, when added to the flours, make "Cornell mix," a complete protein)
optional - ¼ cup brewer's yeast (adds more nutrition, and a very nice flavor)
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ cup or less of vegetable oil
(Note: Rye's quick-growing properties, even in climates with limited sunshine, are perhaps what JRRT had in mind as the grain used for lembas. From "History of Middle-Earth," vol. XII: "The Eldar say that they first received this food from the Valar in the beginning of their days in the Great Journey. For it was made of a kind of corn which Yavanna brought forth in the fields of Aman, and some she sent to them by the hand of Oromë for their succour upon the long march. . . .
Now this corn had in it the strong life of Aman, which it could impart to those who had the need and right to use the bread. If it was sown at any season, save in frost, it soon sprouted and grew swiftly, though it did not thrive in the shadow of plants of Middle-earth and would not endure winds that came out of the North while Morgoth dwelt there. Else it needed only a little sunlight to ripen; for it took swiftly and multiplied all the vigour of any light that fell on it."
I once tried this recipe made entirely from rye flour; it is possible, but it turns out much better with the whole-wheat flour. It can be made from 100% whole-wheat flour, but I use the cup of rye flour for its connection in my mind with the above Lembas lore from JRRT.)
Back to the recipe:
Mix the dry ingredients. Add the vegetable oil to enough water to make a stiff dough (about 1-1/2 cups, usually).
Turn it out on a board, and pound it with a mallet until it is about ½ inch thick. Fold it six layers thick (i.e., in thirds one direction, then in half the other direction). Pound it flat again. Repeat the process five or six times.
[Note: I live in an apartment, and the neighbors (and my wife) complain about the noise when I use the mallet, so I roll it out with a rolling pin instead. This works just as well, but you have to lean into it pretty hard.]
The final time, when it is about ½ inch thick, cut into shapes as desired (I do 1 inch squares), and bake on an ungreased baking sheet thirty minutes or more at 350 degrees, or until lightly browned.
The first time I made it, the surprise was the texture. I was expecting something cracker-like, or rock-hard as proper Hardtack is supposed to be. Instead, the little one-inch biscuits are, well, sort of "springy." Even without any leavening, all that folding introduces enough air so that they raise just a little bit, and have a very satisfying feel to them. They must, nonetheless, be eaten slowly; they are not something to wolf down.
From "The Fellowship of the Ring," chapter eight: "The food was mostly in the form of very thin cakes, made of meal that was baked a light brown on the outside, and inside was the colour of cream."
Mine are lightly browned on the outside and have just a bit of color inside. "Colour of cream?" Well, sort of. What one tastes is the elusive hint of natural sweetness from the whole grains. They are quite sturdy, but if broken, they tend to crumble.
The best part is their compactness and satisfying nature for hiking or other travelling; four or five one inch squares and a handful of nuts (I do a mix of sunflower seeds and peanuts) and a bit of dried fruit, all washed down with water, makes a very satisfying meal. Not filling by any means, but one finds that one can keep going all morning (or afternoon) on it. I have lived quite comfortably on this diet for trips up to a week. In hot weather, the biscuits start getting moldy after five or six days - I am not sure how wise it is, but I scrape off the mold and eat them anyway. That works well enough so long as the mold is not excessive, for the surface is so firm and non-porous that the mold does not penetrate for a long time and can be scraped off with a knife or a fingernail. With hardtack, one of the standard preparations in the old days before eating it (besides scraping off the mold) was to whack it hard on a tabletop, so that the weevils would scurry out. I have not faced that problem. Nor, sadly, have I mastered the art of making and storing it so that it will last for a long time. During the War Between the States in the 1860's, some in the Union Army were fed hardtack that had been baked and "put up" during the War of 1812. "Tastes the same as when it was baked," the men said (with considerable irony).
With Cram, JRRT was doubtless thinking of ship's biscuit, which had been a staple of the Royal Navy for generations and probably used in the Royal Army during his military service. He described Cram as "more of a chewing exercise" than anything else; certainly true of hardtack when it is well-aged. "Molar-breakers" is one term for it, and many creative ways to soften it to an edible state were developed, such as soaking it in coffee.
Though it has similarities, Lembas is something other than Cram. JRRT was perhaps thinking of Eucharistic wafers, the "viaticum," and the connections of the Eucharistic bread with Scripture passages such as St. John chapter 6 - ("I am the bread of life... he that eats this bread will live for ever." - vv. 48, 51) and with the Manna in the desert: Psalm 78:25, "So mortals ate the bread of angels..." Manna fits some aspects of the Lembas description very well: Exodus 16:31 - "And the house of Israel called the name thereof Manna: and it was like coriander seed, white; and the taste of it was like wafers made with honey." The people lived almost exclusively on manna for forty years, and although it satisfied every need, it did not satisfy desire: they grew tired enough of it to complain and desire the "fleshpots of Egypt" with the onions and leeks and cucumbers.
From "The Return of the King," chapter three: "The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have lain down to die. It did not satisfy desire, and at times Sam's mind was filled with the memories of food, and the longing for simple bread and meats. And yet, this way bread of the Elves had potency that increased as travelers relied upon it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and it gave strength to endure, and to master sinew and limb beyond the measure of mortal kind."
At Easter, I plan to return to my yeast bread. I look forward to it, as Aragorn and the hobbits looked forward to the tables of the House of Elrond. But for now, I am finding my "lembas" satisfying in ways that I cannot explain except in spiritual terms. And I find that their virtue grows as this journey of Lent proceeds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
