autumn + a simple apple crumble

What autumn means to me, so far this year:

  • dahlias that thrive from the union of cool, misty mornings and sun-dappled afternoons;
  • becoming a soccer mom;
  • taking Nina to her first college football game, a real nail-biter that was a blur of pompoms and cacophony of cheering;
  • apples, ergo the quest to perfect baked apple cider doughnuts;
  • and this lovely apple crumble.

What a lovely start to my favorite season.

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Apple crumble with muscovado and rye

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I’ve been on a dark rye + muscovado kick lately, and when my neighbors gifted me several pounds of apples, I knew exactly what I wanted to make. This recipe is a marriage of an apple crumble filling from Nigel Slater, and a rye crumble topping from Kim Boyce. A mixture of apple varieties is best in my opinion, so that some bits are tart, some are sweet, some melt into a slush and some remain slightly firm. The thing about Slater’s recipe I love most is that the apples are tossed with sugar then quickly browned before baking, giving the finished dish undertones of toffee or caramel. I think this tastes best without the addition of any spices, although I wouldn’t object to tucking a couple of bruised sage leaves into the dish just before baking. Another grain that pairs well with muscovado sugar is buckwheat, which also happens to be gluten free.

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Filling:
2 1/2 to 3 pounds apples, preferably a mix of tart and sweet
Juice from half a lemon
1/3 cup muscovado sugar
2 to 3 tablespoons coconut oil, used in two teaspoon increments

Crumble:
1 cup rolled oats
1/3 cup dark rye flour (or buckwheat to make this gluten free)
1/3 cup almond meal
6 tablespoons turbinado sugar
Large pinch of fine grain sea salt
3 to 5 tablespoons melted coconut oil

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 350 F / 180 C. Lightly oil a 1.5 quart casserole dish and set aside.

Peel, core, and chop the apples into 3/4-inch chunks. In a large bowl, combine the apples, lemon juice and sugar; stir to combine.

In a heavy bottomed pot, melt two teaspoons of the coconut oil. When the oil is nice and hot, arrange a layer of the apples on the bottom of the pan. Resist the urge to nudge the apple pieces around; the goal here is for them to begin to caramelize. After three to four minutes the apples will begin to brown in spots; transfer them to the casserole dish. Repeat the process until all of the apples have had their turn in the pot. If there are any sticky bits in the pot, add a splash of water, loosen them up, and add them to the casserole dish.

To make the crumble, combine all of the dry ingredients (everything except the coconut oil) in a food processor and pulse a few times until the oats are coarsely ground. Transfer to a bowl and add three tablespoons of the melted coconut oil. Using your hands, stir to combine, squeezing as you stir to create small crumbly bits. If the mixture falls apart when squeezed, add another tablespoon of coconut oil. You want the crumble topping to have a dusty texture, similar to breadcrumbs.

Sprinkle the crumble topping evenly over the apples. Transfer to the oven and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the top is crisp and golden brown. Allow to cool for 15 minutes before serving.

Prep time: 30 minutes | Cook time: 30 minutes

squash sauce

With temps nearing 100 today, I’m keeping things in the kitchen simple, focusing all efforts on soaking up the last flush of summer.

This means my blender is seeing a lot of action: the family-sized green smoothie it makes every day, followed by a giant batch of butternut queso.

My garden didn’t yield any butternuts this year, but there were plenty at the farmers’ market. This sauce is easy to make with both fresh and frozen butternut squash, so I snatched several up to prep and freeze later this month.

squash sauce

 

Butternut queso

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This is one of those recipes that was born of not-in-the-mood-for-anything meals + staple ingredients. Items are grabbed from the pantry, tossed into the blender, and the rest of the meal figures itself out. If using a medium/large butternut, the neck portion will yield 2 to 2 1/2 cups cubed squash. The concentrated sweetness of dried tomatoes rounds out the flavor of this sauce and lends it a hint of color. We go easy on the garlic, but mine is a homegrown variety, more pungent than what’s found in most markets. This tastes good with a dash (or three) of smoked paprika; sadly, my family is too wimpy to handle such a thing. Sometimes, I sneak in a few dashes of ground chipotle – just as much flavor, but less discernible heat. You’ll notice I don’t add any oil or butter – this isn’t because I’m avoiding fat; the sauce is rich enough without it (especially after the flavors have melded in the fridge for a few hours). Some similar recipes on the web include Earth Balance, and I’m sure throwing in a knob would taste good to some palates, but we enjoy it without.

§ § §

2 cups 1/2-inch cubed butternut squash
1 medium yellow-fleshed potato, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 cloves garlic, or more to taste
4 thumb-sized sundried tomato pieces (preferably not oil packed)
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon tamari
1/2 cup raw cashews, either pre-soaked/drained or pulverized in a spice grinder
1 cup nutritional yeast flakes
1/2 teaspoon fine grain sea salt, more to taste
a few grinds white pepper, more to taste

Combine the squash, potato, garlic and sundried tomatoes in a large, wide pot. Add just enough water to cover and bring to a low boil. Lower to a simmer and cook until the potato and squash are fork tender, about 10 minutes. Taking care not to burn yourself, transfer the contents of the pot to the blender. Add the lemon juice and tamari, and blend until smooth. Add the cashews, nutritional yeast, salt and pepper, and blend again until smooth. Add additional water if necessary to make the sauce thinner, if you prefer. The sauce will thicken slightly when cooled.

Prep time: 10 minutes | Cook time: 15 minutes | Yield: about 3 cups

pumpkin drop biscuits // book+film notes

My days have been bookended by two things lately: pumpkin drop biscuits before dawn, and tales of tragedy or woe at night’s end.

pumpkin db w.fg rawit was black as pitch when these came out of the oven the other morning, but lack of lighting (or a real camera) be damned, these are delicious // dusted liberally with fine grain raw sugar

I’ve a penchant for dark and lonely tales in general, but my favorite season/month/holidays all rolled up into a few short weeks amplify it a thousandfold. I’ve spend nearly every night huddled under blankets into the witching hour reading or viewing, followed by bleary-eyed mornings of biscuit making. Here’s a sliver of why it’s been worth it.

On the nightstand

Dr. Sleep: Have I mentioned King before? I’m sure I have. He’s hands down my favorite author, for reasons I won’t get into now (or this post will never end). What’s probably germain to my subjective adoration for Dr. Sleep, though, is a teensy bit of backstory. When I was a bored to tears, Dickens-reading fifth grader, I stumbled across The Shining – and it was love at first sight. Love for the genre, for the author, and most importantly, for the characters. I can actually say I have waited three-fourths of my life to find out what happened to them. And I was not disappointed.

The Snow Child: Beautiful, haunting, sad, magical, and well written. Oh, so well written. I can feel the frost creeping into my fingers and kissing the nape of my neck as I type this. More than once I put this  book down and curled up with my own little girl while pondering the one in this story.

On film

Jane Eyre (2011): There have been a few decent film versions of this novel, and in those instances it was (for me) a combination of direction, casting, locale, score, costume and set design, chemistry between main and/or supporting cast, or screenplay; never all of those things in any one film. This version? It has it all. As most adaptations, this film does not capture every single moment from Brontë’s story – but it is more true to the spirit of her novel and the times in which it was written than any other adaptation I’ve seen to date. The flashbacks to Jane’s childhood were heart wrenching in a way I’d forgotten since experiencing those same scenes on the page. Wasikowska and Fassbender were outstanding, as was the entire supporting cast. And the moors, oh, the moors! A lesser film could still be carried on the wings of location, set design and costuming. In this one, they were a beautiful canvas that melted into the background and allowed the story to seamlessly unfold.

Wuthering Heights (2011): Another outstanding adaptation – and the only film version of Wuthering Heights I’ve seen that remains true to the heart of another Brontë sister’s story. When I read the novel many many years ago, the descriptor that most came to mind was a well-intentioned but naively two dimensional cruel. I had not yet lived enough to really comprehend where Brontë was coming from; all of the critical analysis skills in the world didn’t provide the insight that I have now. When I watched this 2011 film version with a few more years of life behind me, the first descriptor that came to mind was feral. The film only covers the first half of the novel, but it gets to the beating heart of this story, rips it out and stomps on it. The first hour has almost no dialogue, instead subjecting viewers to the elements right along with Heathcliff and Catherine as they each endure their separate but equally harsh realities while also growing to care for one another. More time in this version is given to their childhood years than any other I’ve seen, and it makes the repercussions of their cleaving that much more resounding. Unfortunately, choices the director made in her treatment of animals prevent me from wanting to view any of her other works; I’ve heard great things about Fish Tank and Red Road, but have serious doubts I’ll watch them.

The Awakening: After experiencing two Brontë stories in a 48 hour period, I wanted to watch something that was still in the gothic vein, but nowhere as intense. Rebecca Hall in a creepyish-but-more-sad-than-scary ghost story filled that niche. Post WWI England, a drafty mansion that had been converted into a boys’ school, a female ghost debunker, hints of tragic love lost. The only thing that kept me from fully immersing myself in the story is that Rebecca Hall reminds me of Molly Wizenberg, and I kept wanting her to cook something. Needless to say, when this movie was over I made a tray of cookies and a pot of tea.

pumpkin db w.turbinadoa turbinado-topped biscuit is a great companion for culling my creepy postcard collection

Pumpkin drop biscuits

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This is a modification of my coconut cream drop biscuits, one I’ve made often enough now that it’s no longer a modification – it just is. I use half whole spelt and half white to add a little nuttiness to the biscuits without compromising the crumb, but all white spelt flour would be fine, too.  I don’t go overboard with the pumpkin or spices, because I hate when recipes do that – this isn’t a pie, you know? I’ve used both pumpkin and butternut squash in this, usually roasted the night before and then blitzed in my mini food processor just before mixing in; mashing it well with a fork works too. I don’t go overboard with the maple syrup in the batter, because 1. these would brown faster than I’d like, and 2. I want an excuse to add the sugar on top. It’s the most essential ingredient, according to Nina.

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1 cups whole spelt flour
1 cup white spelt flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon fine grain sea salt
1/4 cup solid coconut cream
2 tablespoons maple syrup (grade A or B, baker’s choice)
1/4 cup pureed pumpkin or butternut squash
1/2 cup unsweetened plant milk (I always use almond)
Large pinches of natural cane or turbinado sugar

Preheat the oven to 400F/200C and position a rack in the center.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and place in the refrigerator or freezer to chill while you mix up the dough.

Sift the dry ingredients together in a medium-sized bowl. Quickly rub the cream into the flour with your fingers until the pieces are the size of small pebbles; don’t worry if they aren’t uniform in size. Add the syrup, pumpkin puree and milk and stir until just incorporated; the dough will be sticky. Place the dough in the refrigerator to chill for at least 10 minutes, or longer if your oven is not yet preheated. Once the oven is ready, divide the dough into six portions, dropping them at least one inch apart on the baking sheet. Sprinkle the top of each biscuit liberally with sugar. Bake for 20 minutes, or until just beginning to brown around the edges and golden on top.

Yield: 6 biscuits

Prep time: 5 minutes | Cook time: 20 minutes

I’m lucky I didn’t burn the house down

This past weekend, I baked and cooked around the clock for two entire days. None of it was planned! And yet all of it went smoothly.

Action JacksonThis particular bowl saw a lot of action // muffins, granola, macaroons, grain-based sausage, brownies . . . I’m full just thinking about it

While the muffins were cooling and the granola was baking, there was an impromptu birthday party. I had no idea there were triplets in the house!

birthday girlsthere ain’t no party like my nana’s tea party // . . . happy birthday, dear Rainbow Sparkles, Kookaburra, and Click . . .
zesty macaroonsorange zest-spiked macaroons // totally on a whim, because I needed something to do while the granola was baking

At one point, I had four slow cookers going at the same time. Beans, more beans, lentils – and the richest, smoothest marinara I’ve ever made. Accidentally slow cooking my marinara sauce for 18 hours was the key.

grain-based Italian meatballsspaghetti and grain-based meatballs simmered in glad-I-didn’t-burn-the-house-down marinara // meatball recipe will be posted on Wednesday
researchresearch! because somehow, I was still actually hungry // I rarely eat when I’m cooking or baking, the smell all on its own makes me feel stuffed

There was also potato focaccia bread, triple chocolate buttermilk brownies, multiple tester recipes for two of my favorite cookbook authors, and another accidental discovery – my wok is the perfect popcorn popper.

When I wasn’t actively cooking, I managed to leave my kitchen. There was a library visit, grocery shopping, Lego building, movie watching, more Lego building, winter clothes sorting, book reading, and even laundry. Whew! Just thinking about it all makes me tired. The only thing we didn’t do was go for a hike, because my still-healing knee was throbbing. Apparently, standing on an injured knee for several hours straight will do that.

Oh, and there was also this soup.

cup o' soup creamy tomato soupI used both my slow cooker and my oven for this, and it was totally worth it
soup dregsthe best part of cleanup duty

Slow cooker tomato soup

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This recipe may read as long and complicated, but most of the time is spent waiting for the soup’s base ingredients to melt together in your slow cooker. It can be made on a stove top, but the results just aren’t the same. You’ll need to purée the base by itself, and then again with the rest of the ingredients once they have roasted. I usually combine everything in a tall, stainless steel pasta pot and use my stick blender, but a stand blender or food processor will also work.

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Soup base, to slow cook:
1/2 cup red lentils
1/4 cup steel cut oats
2 medium tomatoes, chopped (or 10-12 cherry tomatoes, halved)
1 tablespoon chicken-style broth powder
1 tablespoon nutritional yeast
10 basil leaves, torn
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
salt and white pepper

Soup body, to roast:
4 medium tomatoes, quartered (or 20-25 cherry tomatoes, halved)
1 large shallot or red torpedo onion, quartered
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
large pinch kosher salt
large pinch turbinado sugar

Finishing garnish:
nutmeg
agave
crostini or croutons, optional

In a 2- or 3-quart slow cooker, combine the first seven ingredients (red lentils through smoked paprika) with 2 1/2 cups of water and set to low. Allow everything to cook for six hours, stirring occasionally and adding more water if needed. You want enough liquid to purée everything easily at the end, but not so much that it will be watery. When the six hours have passed, purée everything until smooth and season with salt and white pepper to taste. Keep the base warm in your slow cooker until the roasted vegetables are ready.

When your slow cooker has about an hour to go, preheat your oven to 375 F / 190 C. In a baking dish, arrange the quartered tomatoes and shallot, cut sides up, in a single layer. Drizzle with oil and vinegar, then sprinkle on the salt and sugar. Roast until the tomatoes have caramelized and their juices are concentrated.

Combine the puréed base and the caramelized tomatoes, shallots and their juices in a blender or food processor (in multiple batches, if necessary) and purée until completely smooth, adding water if needed.

Garnish with a drizzle of agave and fresh grated nutmeg, and serve with small crostini or croutons.

Yield: 2-4 servings, depending on course and appetite

Prep time: 10 minutes | Slow cooking time: 6 hours (mostly unattended) | Roasting time: 30-45 minutes

Setting the mood

I wish I were out of doors – I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy […] I’m sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

winter.pond
exploring our woods and pond, not unlike Catherine exploring the moors

Despite temps in the high 80s and days spilling over with bright white sunshine, autumn is just around the corner. I love this time of year for so many reasons – skinny jeans and opaque tights tucked into knee-high boots, stocking up on yarn to knit up scarves/hats/arm&leg warmers, the smell of decaying leaves and wood fires.

But mostly, I love it for the books and films it puts me in the mood for.

This is the time of year when I first read The Historian and A Discovery of Witches; when I always re-read Into the Wild, Time Traveler’s Wife, and a few shorts by King or Barker. I check out new novels friends describe as “dark in the best way possible.” I plan and view – sometimes for and by just myself – film festivals ranging from Kubrick to gothic horror.

{Film favorites the first half of this month: Jane Eyre (2011); Wuthering Heights (2011); The Awakening. Oh, so much to say about these films! Perhaps a review post is in the near future.}

In my autumn kitchen, there are apples and winter squash piled up on the table; yeasted and slow-rising breads in the oven; a pot of oatmeal for breakfast every morning and teacakes under the cake dome every night. Familiar grains are revisited, new ones explored. And always, always, a jar of uttapam batter bubbling away on the counter.

uttapam.batterbubbles! bubbles!
uttapam+souputtapam is the perfect side for a bowl of soup or stew

Uttapam

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In a roundabout sort of way, dosas are to uttapam what crepes are to pancakes. Over the years I’ve modified SE Katz’s dosa recipe from Wild Fermentation, changing a couple of ingredients to suit my tastes, and decreasing liquid to keep the batter thick. I usually fill these with chopped onion and cilantro, but have also been known to stuff them full of all manner of things à la the pudla craze. I like to measure my batter out 1/4 cup at a time, mixing in the filling for each uttapam directly in the measuring cup. Depending on ambient room temperature, humidity and organisms present in the air, each batch of batter will ferment a little differently. As soon as your batter tastes good to you, move it to the refrigerator to slow down the fermentation process. I prefer to use a tall glass 1/2 gallon jar for my batter.

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{batter}
1 1/2 cups uncooked basmati rice
1/2 cup cooked basmati rice
1 cup dry red lentils
1/4 cup plain, unsweetened coconut kefir or yogurt

{suggested filling per uttapam}
1 tablespoon chopped cilantro
1 tablespoon chopped onion
pinch of salt
coconut oil, for the skillet

Fermenting the batter
In a tall bowl or jar, combine your rice and lentils and cover completely with water. Seal tightly and leave to soak for 8-12 hours.

Strain the rice and lentils, and return them to the jar. Add the kefir or yogurt and use an immersion blender to grind everything into a thick, smooth batter. Small flecks of rice and lentils is fine, but the batter should not be chunky. Add water only if necessary, a tablespoon at a time.

Cover the top of the jar with a piece of gauze or cheesecloth, secure with a rubber band (or lid ring, if using a canning jar) and leave out at room temperature to ferment, anywhere from 24-56 hours. Check after 24 hours and every 8 hours after, until the flavor suits you. It will be sour, and the batter will expand and rise substantially as it ferments.

Making the uttapam
Prepare enough filling for however many uttapam you want to make. Heat a cast iron skillet over medium heat, and rub with a small amount of coconut oil. While the skillet is heating, measure out 1/4 cup batter. Drop your filling into the measuring cup and fold in with a small spoon. Pour the batter into the skillet; it should be the consistency of pancake batter. Cook until crisp and golden on one side, about five minutes; flip and cook through.

Yield: 3 Cups batter

Prep time: 5 minutes | Fermentation time: 1-3 days | Cook time: 10 minutes

These muffins keep stealing my pear butter

You know that pear butter I made a week or two ago? It’s gone, baby, gone.

{Film note/Aside: We had an Affleck mini film festival over the weekend. It’s Southie accents run amok at our place right now. You’re so, so lucky I don’t have the patience to type things the way I’ve been pronouncing them. And I’m so, so lucky my husband puts up with my attempt to work ‘cah’ or ‘Hahvuhd’ into every other sentence. Even though the word Harvard probably isn’t spoken once in either Gone Baby Gone or The Town. Also, every time I say ‘cah’ we get off on a “Stop the cah, Cole. Stop the cah!” tangent. If my daughter doesn’t turn out schizophrenic, it will be a small miracle.}

Where were we?

muffins.meet.ganacheSpeckled muffins, about to receive a crumb coating of bittersweet ganache/mousse/whatever.

My favorite thing about being gluten free is the inherent multi-graininess of it all. As I’ve become familiar with different grains, I’ve learned which ones pair best with each other, with stone fruits, with chocolate, or with absolutely nothing at all. Kamut, I’m talking to you. 

multigraininessKamut free.

These muffins are the perfect blend of almond and corn and sorghum and oats, rounded out with turbinado sugar, dark chocolate and sage-infused pear butter.

gf.multigrain.perfection.muffins

appeasing.the.gargoyleWe always offer this fella a bite. He’s super impressed with the crumb of these muffins.

Multi-grain pear & chocolate chunk muffins

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Any fruit purée or butter will work for these, but in my house it’s almost always pear butter. Pumpkin is a very close second. Adapted a zillion times over from this recipe, which Celine adapted from here after I sent her some pear butter.

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2/3 Cup sweet sorghum flour
2/3 Cup almond meal
2/3 Cup potato starch
1/3 Cup steel cut oats
1/2 Cup cornmeal
1 Cup almond milk
1/4 Cup sunflower oil
1/2 Cup turbinado sugar
1 Cup pear butter
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
1/4 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1 small (1.5-2 oz) dark chocolate bar, chopped

Preheat oven to 375 F / 190 C with a rack positioned in the center. Line 16 standard muffin cups with paper liners, or lightly coat with non-stick cooking spray without paper liners, for 14 standard muffins.

In a large bowl, whisk together the sorghum flour, almond meal, potato starch, steel cut oats and cornmeal.

In a medium bowl, combine milk, oil, sugar, pear butter, vanilla, baking powder, baking soda, salt and apple cider vinegar.

Stir wet ingredients into dry. Fold in chocolate.

Fill the muffin cups 3/4 full. Bake for 22 to 24 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Transfer onto a wire rack to cool.

Yield: 14 muffins

Prep time: 15 minutes | Cook time: 22-24 minutes

Rule breaker // Super fluffy gluten free buckwheat pear pancakes

You know how most book lovers have certain things they just will not tolerate? At least one of these things usually makes its way onto a bibliophile’s Do Not Do list: Dog-earing corners; placing down an open book with its spine facing up instead of using a bookmark; using inappropriate items to mark your place; writing in a book.

For me, not writing in books was a steadfast rule. For thirty-odd years, I wouldn’t so much as pencil my name inside the cover of a book. All of that changed when I found out I was allergic to wheat, and suddenly realized that almost none of my favorite recipes were wheat/gluten free. I attempted rewriting every single recipe out in my own hand. But then – well, have you seen my handwriting?

editsMost of my favorite cookbooks now look like this.

Kim Boyce’s Good to the Grain is one of my favorite cookbooks of all time, and definitely my favorite one to bake from. I bought it while I was still figuring out whether my issues were with wheat or all things gluten, and as a result I got into the habit of adapting most of this books’s recipes to be gluten free. (And vegan.)

buckwheat.pear.pancakes buckwheat.pear.pcakes.crossectionlots of height and a tender crumb, all done without gluten, xanthan gum or powdered egg replacer

Buckwheat cornmeal pear pancakes

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I think these taste best if you use vegan butter in the batter, but they also taste pretty good if you use coconut oil. They hold their height and crumb after they’ve cooled, and reheat well the next day. You can eat them folded up taco-style around a few strips of tempeh bacon, or stacked up and drizzled with maple syrup. Most of the time, I serve them with whatever fruit didn’t make it into our morning smoothie.

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Coconut oil or vegan butter, for the pan

Dry mix:
1/3 Cup buckwheat flour
1/3 Cup fine grain cornmeal
1/3 Cup potato starch
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 Teaspoon baking soda
1/4 Teaspoon kosher salt

Wet mix:
1 Tablespoon unsalted vegan butter or coconut oil, melted and cooled slightly
3/4 Cup soy milk
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon flaxseed, ground (grind after measuring)
1 Tablespoon very hot water
1 medium pear, ripe but firm, peeled

Sift the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl and set aside.

Whisk the melted butter, soy milk, and apple cider vinegar until thoroughly combined. Gently fold the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Using the large holes on a box grater, grate the whole peeled pear into the batter; the juice should also fall into the bowl. Gently fold the grated pear into the batter. The batter should be slightly thick, with flecks of pear throughout.

Heat a 10-inch cast-iron pan or griddle over medium heat until water sizzles when splashed onto the pan. Rub the pan generously with butter or coconut oil, to ensure crisp, buttery edges. Working quickly, dollop 1/4 Cup mounds of batter onto the pan, 2 or 3 at a time. Once bubbles have begun to form on the top side of the pancake, flip it over and cook until the bottom is dark golden-brown, about 5 minutes total. Wipe the pan with a cloth as needed before griddling additional batches. If the pan is too hot or not hot enough, adjust the flame accordingly. Repeat until all of the batter is gone.

Be sure to ‘test’ the first one out of the griddle; they disappear fast.

Yield: 6-7 pancakes

Prep time: 15 minutes | Cook time: 10-15 minutes