Happy Thanksgiving

It's been a long time since last I made a pumpkin pie:

(OK, techincally I also made one at Xmas of 2013 too, but that's almost 2 years ago.)

As always, I use Joe's recipe but, year before last, I began to make my crusts with rice flour. I think you'll agree, if you check out the look of that crust vs this one, I've improved my technique. Sure, rice flour serves the purpose of creating a gluten-free pie but, really, the reason I use rice flour is because it's finer and it creates a grittier crust (like sable, so revered by the French). It's not as simple to make a rice flour crust as a wheat flour one. Gluten is a protein that acts as a binding agent. That's what makes it easier to roll and transfer to the pie plate. You need a light hand, a perfectly chilled/rested pastry and confidence when it comes to making a rice-flour crust. Also, don't roll it quite as thin as a wheat-flour crust. I mean, you don't want it thick - but don't go crazy cuz it likes to fall apart. As such, I use about 25 per cent more pastry when making a rice flour crust than I do on a wheat flour one. That's to offset the necessary extra thickness. (But, because it doesn't contain gluten, rice flour crust doesn't get heavy or dense. It stays buttery and light...)

I use wax paper (to roll the crust between) and I position the pie shell on top of the rolled pastry and turn the one into the other with the wax paper still affixed (on what starts off as the bottom of the crust and then becomes the top, after the transfer). FYI, rice flour crust blind bakes much the same as wheat flour crust - so no worries about needing to baby it. I do turn down the heat from 375 to 350 but I'm apt to do that with a wheat crust too.

To understate things completely, I love the smell of a house after making a pumpkin pie. The cloves, cinnamon and ginger seem to simmer with warmth and they balance the sweetness and cream of the pumpkin custard. A good pumpkin pie is sublime - bacchanalian and healthy all at once, to the extent that I actually feel cognitive dissonance while eating! I love to dose it with a large spoon of unsweetened semi-whipped cream (flavoured with vanilla extract). It's freakin' vegetables for dessert, people - what's not to love?

Ah, but this pie polarizes, no? You love it or hate it - which is why I so infrequently make it. My husband won't touch it. Neither will approximately half of any group of guests. And it takes a long time to make if you do the crust in the same go-round as the rest of it. Happily, my kid is in the "I love pumpkin pie" camp so we'll eat half of it tonight and the rest for breakfast tomorrow.

What? Don't tell me that this ain't health food.

Where do you fall on the spectrum? Pumpkin pie for the win? Or do you secretly feed it to the dog when no one's looking?

Thanks

In the spirit of (American) Thanksgiving - and, really, who can't benefit from either the message of this holiday and/or online sales - I will regale you with just a few things for which I am grateful:

• I take back all the mean things I've been thinking about the Bettie Pullover. The designer is the loveliest woman, who yesterday helped me through the rough part, and gently suggested that the pattern takes a certain sort of "endurance" - well, ain't that self-aware? I still don't know if it will fit. I've decided to be surprised, kind of like having a baby. It really is a genius pattern, if totally beyond my experience. But as my father likes to say, an expert is someone who's done it once before.

• Figleaves immediately reimbursed me for the return shipping on the Fantasie bra return/resend order that it messed up, not that I'm surprised. And then today the Royce Charlotte lounge bra arrived in the right size and it's seriously comfortable, totally pointy (like I love). This thing is so supportive, it's crazy. I could do an aerobics class and nothing would budge. It's not gorgeous, by any stretch, but it's great for yoga or lounging, that's for sure. You can totally wear it outside. I just don't think it's sexy enough to be worn under clothes, in the real world.

• My online community, as I've said many times - and I just don't know how to express this adequately - is an awesome world of friendship and tremendous support. This fall has been hard for me, as you know, but your expressions of concern and optimism have braced and sustained me.

• I continue to feel better each week! I'm sleeping enough, on a regular basis, so that my health can actually improve via rest. I am now able to eat most things, even though sugar isn't optimal. And, though I seem to have developed some kind of temporary allergy to wine (?!?!), which makes my throat swell in a rather unpleasant way, I can drink a martini (or spirits having no sugar) with no ill effects. The ulcers are going away, if slowly. Coughing is less omnipresent and less violent, and I have much more energy than I have had since late August. No, I don't feel 100% and may not for a while, but I feel so much better than I did 2 weeks ago / a month ago / 2 months ago that I marvel at this whole bizarre turn of events.

A propos of this, I never realized how much energy "normal Kristin" actually expends. She veritably buzzes with enthusiasm, ideas, desires, feelings, intensity and pluck. How I have been taking this for granted. I am so grateful to be me and for my continuing return to normalcy which, let's face it, is anything but normal. It's wonderful. So thanksgiving is alive and well in my heart.

Foot Hold

One year ago today, I broke my foot. Weary-brain-convinced that I was on the first rise, I turned around on my staircase and stepped down. In fact, I was on the fourth of 13 stairs, 19th-century steep. I landed in a seated position on my foyer floor. My left foot was twisted under the right side of my derriere. My body was entirely unprepared. I had no time to use my hands to break the fall (probably just as well, might have broken an arm.) It was sickeningly painful.

I freaked out. I was afraid to move or be touched. As I screamed at Scott to stay away (he was trying to help) while my kid chimed in to "leave Mummy alone. Don't touch her!", the common wall neighbours were obviously perplexed. (I learned this a couple of days later when I met them on the porch...)

The next day my (very kind) manager came to take me to the hospital. Stupidly, I'd waited out the whole night at home as Scott had convinced me I was over-reacting. By the time the doctors saw my foot, it - and my ankle - had swollen to 3 times its normal size. They took xrays and ultrasound and told me I had a particularly bad sprain. They gave me crutches and a prescription for a boot cast. When things were practically as ugly a week later, my family doctor had a look and freaked out. She was convinced it was broken and sent me to a clinic to be retested. Those tests revealed a minor break, in addition to the torn ligaments and tendons the hospital doctor had already diagnosed.

I spent 3 weeks at home thinking constantly about, and documenting, ways to ameliorate the healing process. I did 90 minutes of non-weight bearing yoga per day. I lay with my legs elevated (often right up the wall) for hours. I took supplements to diminish inflammation, used analgesic creams, had physiotherapy three times a week for 3 months. I had a lot of time to think.

Before I broke my foot, I imagined I'd go crazy if I couldn't walk, as per usual, an hour plus per day. I did not imagine how hard it would be to get up and down the stairs on my ass or the complexity involved in making food on one limb. I did not imagine the near impossibility of taking a shower. I couldn't imagine that I'd have ongoing foot pain for 8 months (though totally bearable, rather unpleasant) or that my brain would be really fuzzy for a good 6 weeks.

But I'm here to say that I did not go crazy (at least not over relative immobility). I did become a proficient online shopper. (If only I'd known how to knit!)

The great thing about Thanksgiving is that you don't have to cebrate the holiday in order to celebrate the concept.

So, here's a list of the things (in no particular order) I continue to be grateful for, when I remember this time last year:

• That my workplace was incredibly accommodating and facilitated my ability to work at home.
• That my manager took me to the emergency room.
• That I didn't break something more serious.
• That I managed to find zen, in my own small way, in being unable to walk normally for a few weeks.
• That I had a great house in which to convalesce.
• That I healed incredibly quickly, in the scheme of things (according to doctors and my physiotherapist)
• That it didn't happen in January, which would have required me to negotiate everything in snow and ice.
• That my husband and kid were supportive (and very helpful with the logistics).
• That I had Xmas to look forward to.
• That I live in a place with universal health care.
• That I have good benefits.
• That I could afford the deductibles and supplemental care without stress.
• That I know how to use yoga therapeutically.
• That I was also able to use it to maintain my sanity and to give me activity and pain relief.
• That I have many friends, including those in my online community, who provided ongoing support.
• That the injury gave me perspective in a fairly benign way.

By the Book

I'm having 9 guests for Thanksgiving dinner tonight. Scott's in charge of the capon. I'm the baker. (We don't like to mess with the holiday cooking stereotypes, as you can see...)

Yesterday I made a streusel coffee cake (the second in a week), from my stand-by recipe - which is as beautiful to look at as to eat. Vis a vis the ongoing recalibration, I do feel compelled to tell you, in brief, that I ate but one small piece of the first cake (do you know, it's a sin not to eat beautiful baked goods you make yourself?) and I intend to eat whatever I like today. It is Thanksgiving, after all.

This morning, I finally tried my hand at the flan boulanger I have referred to on a few occasions. I will serve it with a simple raspberry garnish.

The recipe is one of Michel Roux's, from Pastry: Savory and Sweet, a book which I cannot recommend enough. Whether you are a novice or a seasoned baker, this book clearly articulates the steps in making perfect pastry and it does so in lovely, spare French-style. As I've mentioned many times, the keys to making pastry are the right ingredients, the right equipment and the right frame of mind. There is no mystery - but there is alchemy.


The custard is made from a lightly boiled vanilla bean milk mixture added to a thickening mixture, which includes eggs... This one (and the purist snob in me is slightly huffy) makes use of flour and a tbsp of custard powder (essentially corn starch, sugar and colouring). I'm amazed a fancy French chef condones the use of powder, nay, instructs it! Hey, if it works...

This is the parbaked crust. You can see the initial shrinkage (see below for explanation). The reason you prick the base is to encourage even cooking. It allows steam to escape without puffing up the pastry. That, in addition to blind baking with parchment atop of which you place weight (rice, beans, stones etc.) will ensure a level end result.

And here's the finished product!

I didn't have a lot of time to let the dough rest, unfortunately, as I'm sharing the oven today. As a result, it shrank more than I'd like and looks a bit crass - despite a secondary rest period in the fridge, after rolling but before baking. I expected that; resting allows protein chains to relax, which mitigates shrinkage, and can have potential implications on the finished texture. To work around, I left extra overage at the top of the tart pan - that in addition to the overage caused by pinching the dough. You can see, it really needed it. As it is, the crust-edge is wildly uneven. Not that it's going to matter when it's beautifully plated. And if it tastes awesome, I'll feel alright.

If Only Monitors Were Scratch and Sniff...

OK, I may be all "sewing challenged" every 10 minutes, but I sure as hell can bake:

Streusel Coffee Cake recipe from Joe Pastry

My parents arrived yesterday from North Carolina and tonight we'll be having a big dinner here with them and Scott's family.

On the menu:

• Munchies (Cheese, charcuterie, nuts, crackers)
• A variety of types of wine - some picked for vintage, others for cute labels and names i.e. Wit's End, The Procrastinator!
• Roast capon (slowly cooked over 5 hours on low heat)
• Pan Veggies
• Tomatoes and Feta
• Stuffing (Shhhh, it's out of a box!! Seriously, though, it's really good. But do NOT tell my mother.)
• Apple pie
• Pumpkin pie
• Streusel Coffee Cake (whatever's left!)
  

(Of course, the pies will be made from scratch, by me, and Scott's in charge of the bird.)

I'll aim to take some food photos, if there's an opportunity!

Happy Thanksgiving, all. K

Pound for Pound

Ah, the moment of innocence, before you try to remove the cake from the crappy (but totally buttered and floured) pan, and everything is still possible.

And then there's the moment of truth. Yes, I know the top is pitted. That's because my bundt pan is shot and I can't stop myself from poking at the cake before it's 100% cool. It's a weakness.

But look, it scarcely matters when plated. The cake is gorgeous and it tastes AWESOME.

I've made this recipe many times over the past few years - and it never ceases to delight. In truth, I'm not much of a cake baker. I don't love icing and I find cakes overly fussy. I mean, you can't eat the whole thing in one go, it's challenging to pack it individually and where do you keep it while you're getting through it all?

Enter the cake lid. I think, having made this recent purchase, I may need to experiment with cakes. Tall, fancy cakes - because the lid is very high. Admittedly, it is an interim purchase. I didn't buy a beautiful glass version because I don't know how I'd store it when it's not sitting on the counter with goodies inside and I don't know if cake is really a direction I want to go in. I mean, people, it's frosted temptation. That serves 16. Generously.

My daughter, however, loves it when I make cake. For her, it's the ultimate. She's already eaten 6 slices in the last 12 hours. So maybe I don't have to worry too much about left-overs.

Note: The secret to a perfect pound cake is to substitute half the butter for cream cheese. Trust me, it's genius. And mix the flour in before you add the eggs. Sounds crazy but it makes the thing so light and buttery, you can't stand it.

Thanksgiving

I took these (arguably inadequate) images on my way to my friend Jeannette's for dinner on Saturday evening. It was a moody, autumn dusk. I could see my breath as I walked and the clouds were gathered ominously overhead.

The incomparable thing about living in a really northern climate, is that you get to see the splendour of seasonal change in high-relief. Trees go from summer green to fiery red or burnt yellow in the blink of an eye.

As I walked, I felt such gratitude for my numerous good fortunes, among them, access to beautiful food and warm shelter, for family, friends and health. The sun set and the chill rose; I smelled burning leaves and woodsmoke all around me. Those are the best smells in the world, I thought, as I walked - bundled - all along my way.