Holiday fruitcake

Fruitcake is one of the classic holiday snacks. Sadly, many folk equate fruitcake with those factory-made, dye-infused cinderblocks that have been sodium-sulfited to within an inch of their pseudo-Christmasy lives.

(Did you know that a common ploy is to stuff "fruitcake" with bits of melon rind and other compost fodder that have been colored to resemble cherries? Nasty.)

I gather that many people are reluctant to bake their own fruitcake, believing the process to be complicated. But it's not. Not at all.

This recipe comes via my mother. Of course, I've given it twists of my own, substituting canola oil for butter, and multigrain flour for plain.

Another twist: customizing my selection of dried fruit. I avoid the artificial coloring in cherries and mixed peel by going for apricots, cranberries, currants, dates, figs, pears, and such. (Although, in this instance, I did add a few cherries and bits of peel to appease the guests I'm expecting).

This is perhaps the one cake that Fred digs. He's a lad who truly enjoys his fruit.

Mamma's Fruitcake

Fruit mixture

• 6 1/2 cups dried fruit (diced)
• 1 1/2 cup cold water
• 1/2 cup canola oil
• 1 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 1/2 tsp cloves
• 2 tsp allspice

Flour mixture

• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 1/2 cups multigrain flour

More stuff

• 1/2 cup chopped nuts (e.g. walnuts)
• 2 eggs (beaten)
• 3 Tbsp rum (preferably dark)

Directions

1. Assemble fruit mixture in large saucepan. Stir well, then boil for 5 minutes, stirring as needed.
2. Cool fruit mixture thoroughly.
3. Assemble flour mixture in large bowl. Stir well.
4. Stir fruit mixture into flour mixture.
5. Stir in nuts, eggs and rum.
6. Bake at 275°F for 1 3/4 hours in large, covered, cast-iron pot. (For ease of removal, line pot with parchment paper.)
7. Cool for one hour.
8. Remove onto cooling rack (run knife around sides if needed) to continue cooling.
9. When thoroughly cooled, wrap in plastic wrap and tinfoil. Store in a cookie tin.

That's all there is to it. But remember, for an optimal taste experience, allow your cake to sit for a month before serving.

Salmon toasts

When you think of winter luxury foods, smoked salmon might not immediately come to mind. You may wish to think twice.

Salmon is one of my favorites. I love the rich flavor — on Atlantic salmon, in particular. The peachy-pink color also tickles the senses.

Because I don't often choose smoked fish, I consider smoked salmon as being somewhat indulgent, suitable as a winter treat. In other words, perfect for yesterday afternoon's snack.

Now, salmon and cream cheese is a popular combination. But I was inspired instead by Faye Levy's recipe to pair my salmon with avocado.

And bonus! Avocados are on sale this time of year. I snagged mine for $1 apiece.

Here's how I prepared my Salmon Toasts:

Ingredients

• avocado
• lemon juice (fresh is better, by far)
• rye bread
• smoked salmon (or trout)
• tomato
• onion
• capers
• black pepper

What to do

1. smash avocado in small bowl; add lemon juice to taste
2. toast bread; cut into 2x2" squares; spread with avocado mixture
3. add a square of salmon
4. top with tomato (fines slices), onion (dainty curves), capers (rinsed) and freshly ground pepper.

Making these prompted me to recall when we lived in Fiji. A friend had a backyard tree, from which we picked fresh avocados. Mmm.

Oh well, at least I found avocado on yesterday's grocery trip. They can't always be had around here. Why, even the rye or pumpernickle bread I prefer comes frozen, shipped here from 2000 miles away.

But hey, salmon is readily available. At least there's that.

Fred's pemmican: The How-to

This recipe makes enough pemmican for a day's worth of snacking. Or, with the addition of boiled water, it makes one super-hefty portion of hoosh, a.k.a. stew.

Put another way, this recipe approaches 1200 calories, half the daily allowance for a moderately active adult. Of course, the energy demands of backpacking may be considerably above "moderate".

Fred's pemmican

Ingredients:

• 4 oz. dried beef
• 4 oz. (8 Tbsp) butter (unsalted)
• 1 oz. twelve-grain cereal (uncooked)
• 1 oz. dried fruit and/or vegetables

Seasonings:

• 2 Tbsp onion powder
• pinch of garlic powder
• pinch of salt
• sprinkle of pepper
• pinch of cayenne pepper
• pinch of chili powder

Directions:

1. melt butter (gently) in saucepan
2. use food processor/blender to grind all solid ingredients (plus seasonings) into powder; scrape into medium-sized mixing bowl
3. skim (and discard) foam from surface of melted butter; pour butter into mixing bowl (but discard milk solids settled at bottom of saucepan)
4. mix well, then transfer into (greased) bowl or baking pan
5. press down firmly with back of spoon; cover with wax paper
6. place weight on top of waxed paper (to keep ingredients compressed; dried beans work well)
7. place in freezer for 1 hour
8. remove weight, then remove pemmican from bowl
9. cut into chunks of desired size.

If intended as snacks, go heavier on the dried fruit (apricots, cranberries, dates, figs, raisins, etc.). If intended as a main meal, go heavier on the dried vegetables (peas, carrots, peppers, etc.).

Should you choose not to dry your own ingredients, prowl any large grocery store. You may be surprised at how many options are available. In Canada, the Bulk Barn is a great source of dried produce. In the U.S., try Trader Joe's.

Package pemmican in ziplock bags. If you don't plan to consume it immediately, store in the freezer.

When prepared and stored with care, pemmican will easily last a number of months.

Fred's pemmican: The what of it

Last week I promised to talk about pemmican, a food that Fred prepares for our backpacking excursions. Let's get started.

First, what the heck is it?

Pemmican is a high-energy food, essentially a 50:50 mix of protein and fat. Originally developed by indigenous North Americans, its storability and compact form led to its use by trappers, soldiers and members of polar expeditions.

Traditionally, large game animals supplied the meat, which was dried and pounded into powder. The other major ingredient was tallow (rendered animal fat; sometimes from bone marrow).

Having contemporary means (a.k.a. the local grocery) available to him, Fred makes his pemmican with beef, which he dries himself, and butter, which he clarifies. He also folds in modest amounts of grains, dried fruits and veggies.

Don't know how all this sounds to you, but trust me, pemmican is perfectly yummy, and extremely satisfying. A little goes a long way — and that's exactly the point.

In other words, in the wilderness, it helps if you're not excessively burdened. You also want food that fortifies and provides a huge calorie count — you need all the energy you can get, for activity and for generating body heat.

Generally, we've eaten our pemmican raw, which is the no-fuss way to consume it (another plus for backpackers). But on our last trip, Fred prepared it as hoosh. That's Antarctica talk for pemmican in boiling water, i.e. turning it into a stew, more or less.

A variation of hoosh is called rubaboo (another great name). This is a stew made from pemmican and fresh odds-and-ends, gathered on site (wild vegetables, roots, fungi, herbs, and so forth).

I confess, I've yet to prepare rubaboo, but am looking forward to experimenting. I expect I'll resort to using berries and maybe a few edible flowers or leaves — there's little else available on the barrens where we tend to trek.

In any case, rubaboo will probably have to wait until the next growing season. From here on, I've got a fall, winter and spring of unadulterated pemmican and/or hoosh to look forward to.  And that's quite fine by me.

(Seems I've reached today's word quota. Next time, I'll cover the How-to of Fred's pemmican.)

Premier snackfood

Today, the Premier of our province made a surprise announcement: he is resigning from public office, effective next week. This was surely universe-shattering to many locals, as "our Danny" is revered more highly in these parts than any ten popes.

Truly. The last voter-approval rating I recall seeing came in at 93%.

So, to honor Danny Williams, national icon and scrapper extraordinaire, SnackCastle is pleased to report on what is likely to be a sorrowfully neglected topic over these next few days: his dining preferences.

A performer on a popular TV comedy series once maintained that the Honourable Premier's favorites included "waffles" and "flounder". But don't be fooled; that was satire.

Similarly, for the purposes of this exercise, we'll exclude from the Premier's menu all those individuals of whom it has been said, surely with grains of credibility, "that Danny Williams had Person X for lunch."

But enough. Exhaustive investigations by the SnackCastle Research Department have uncovered that Danny Williams's favorite meal is ... drum roll, please ...

... fish-and-chips.

And it appears that not just any fee-and-chee will do. Indeed, it is the world-renowned victuals from the venerable Ches's Famous Fish & Chips that have so captured Mr Williams's fancy.

The Premier recently confessed to a national publication that even after undergoing surgery to repair a leaky cardiac valve, he still enjoys the grease-drenched treat as often as once per week. (He even demonstrated how his preferred appetizer is a plate of onion rings!) Good on ya.

With that, joining the chorus of well-wishers, we extend our best to Mr Williams. Health, happiness and long may you continue to indulge your piscivorous proclivities.

You may have sprung from a small pond, Mr Premier, but you were never, never the small fish.

Easy as pie

Holidays are great, don't get me wrong, but they frequently require herculian measures: cooking a monster meal, spiffing up the house, hosting visitors, travelling, or so forth.

In short, a truckload of effort. And it's tempting to go overboard.

Before you find yourself over your head, take a breath. Do you really need to go all-out Martha?

Seriously, sometimes it pays to scale back. To simplify. To take the easier route.

If your Thanksgiving (or other holiday) celebration screams for a special dessert — or if you just plain come down with a craving — but aren't looking forward to upping your workload, here's a quick fix: a No-bake Berry Pie.

It's easy and healthy.

No-bake Berry Pie

Crusty stuff:

• 1 cup nuts (walnuts, almonds, macadamia, pecans, etc.)

• 1/4 cup oats

• 3/4 cup coconut (shredded, unsweetened)

• 1/4 cup dried fruit (figs, dates, apricots, raisins, etc.)

• 2 tsp honey

• pinch of cayenne pepper

• pinch of salt 
• 
  
• 1. Grind all ingredients in food processor
• 2. Press firmly into greased pie plate (back of a large spoon works well)

• 
  
• 2 cups berries (if frozen, thaw and drain)

• 1 banana

• 2 tsp lemon juice

• brown sugar to taste
• 
  
• 3. Pour filling onto pie crust
• 4. Refrigerate for 1 hour

Feel free to make modifications here, but beware of going too dry. Aim for a mixture that resembles a grainy pastry-dough, one with just enough stickiness — from dried fruit, honey, etc. — to hold it together.

To do:

Filling stuff

Again, modifications are encouraged, but best to keep the filling thick.

More To do:

If you really wish to go the extra mile, decorate with a few whole berries and serve with whipped cream, etc.

And that's it.

To reward yourself for time and energy saved, pour a nice glass of wine, put your feet up and look forward to enjoying your guests. And your pie. 

Mining the depths, snackwise

This little episode of urban archaeology took place yesterday. In my very own home. In my freezer.

Head-and-shoulders into the icebox in seach of something-or-other, Fred uncovered buried treasure. The edible kind.

Yup, nestled behind the frozen yogurt, deep beneath the green beans, way, way, way in the back, lay three pieces of homemade cake. Oh, joy.

Seriously, what rivals the thrill of unearthing a long-forgotten snack? (Well, provided it's not overgrown with green scuzz.) When he chipped that ziplock bag free and wiped away enough frost for me to read the label, my eyes must have bulged. Whoo-hoo. Bonus!

I had baked this gem of a cake — a zesty blueberry-lemon — months ago, and enjoyed it tremendously at the time (I remember that). But it had since lain abandoned, in its icy cocoon.

In no time, Fred had unwrapped a piece, nuked it and served it to me — with a side of frozen yogurt, no less. All while I was couchbound, fighting a cold. The timing couldn't have been better.

Mmm, and did it ever tickle my innards.

Who knows? Perhaps it's time you took on some excavating. Leftover pie in the back of the fridge? Chocolate-chip cookies in the corner cupboard? Bag of dill-pickle chips in the storage closet?

You might be (pleasantly) surprised over what treats lay in wait.

Giving thanks, yet again, for chocolate (the recipe)

As I said yesterday, hurray for happy endings.

Here's the promised recipe:

Sarah's Chocolate Pumpkin Loaf

Ingredients

Wet:

• 2 eggs
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup canola oil
• 1 1/2 cups milk

Dry:

• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 2 cups multigrain flour
• 3/4 cup cocoa powder
• 2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 cups pumpkin (pureed)
• 3/4 cup pumpkin seeds (crushed)

The how-to

• mix dry ingredients in medium bowl
• mix wet ingredients in large bowl
• add dry ingredients into wet, stirring
• pour batter into three loaf pans (greased)
• bake at 350°F for 1 hour
• cool 5 minutes
• run knife around edges of pans and invert pans onto cooling rack.

Serve warm with your preferred topping. Consider sour cream, whipped cream or frozen yogurt (vanilla goes nicely), plus berries, chocolate chips, chocolate shavings or a sprinkle of cocoa powder.

Refrigerate leftovers in an airtight container.

Note that the original recipe called for using an electric mixer, so if you've been aching to power up your gleaming, new Kitchen-Aid or whatnot, by all means, knock yourself out. But when I spied those directions, I — as I often do — simply laughed aloud, cackled "Bull feathers," and ploughed ahead with my wooden spoon. And that served just fine.

So fine, in fact, that these loaves emerged from the oven extraordinarily moist, with rich flavor and texture. Fred was so smitten he's already put away a full loaf by himself — and he hardly ever bothers with baked goods.

Anyhow, in the spirit of the Thanksgiving soon to be celebrated by my American friends, I'll close with, "I, Sarah, am thankful for the spirit of improvisation and for happy accidents." 

Giving thanks, yet again, for chocolate (the story)

One evening last week, I found myself craving something chocolatey. How unusual.  :‍-‍)

Flipping through my clipping pile, one recipe leapt out and practically grabbed me by the tonsils. Mmm, a chocolate pumpkin cake. Perfect.



In no time, I was head-to-toe in multigrain flour, happy as could be. Baking, baking, doo dee-doo, baking, baking. Having a lovely time. Dreaming, I was, of little but slicing into that yummy combo.

Ooh, fresh pumpkin. Rich chocolate. Pumpkin, chocolate. Chocolate, pumpkin.

And what better way to salute the upcoming Thanksgiving, I drooled. (I'm not American, but what the hey? Celebrating two Thanksgivings ain't a crime.)

Then, elbows-deep in batter, and almost by accident, I scanned the ingredient list one last time. Huh? Where's the pumpkin in this danged recipe?

Talk about harsh reality. Four-fifths through with my baking, I discovered that the "pumpkin" was in title only; not one scrap of actual pumpkin appeared in the ingredient list. (The point, apparently, was to join two Bundt-cake halves to make a pumpkin shape, then slather it in orange-colored icing.)

Noooooooooo...

But by this time, I was in too deep. Heck, I was determined. There shall be pumpkin in this here recipe.

Gritting teeth, I combed my cupboards, and ended up adding tinned pumpkin and pumpkin seeds to my batter. Had to perform some real emergency surgery on that recipe, I tell you, pull out some real miracles to salvage the thing. I was worried it would turn out to be one big accident.

But hurray for happy endings. My version was delish, a clear improvement over the original.

I'll publish the recipe for my Chocolate Pumpkin Loaf tomorrow.

My favorite evening snack

Some folks are partial to popcorn. Others swear by their tea and toast. For me, an evening staple is my mixie bowl.

Mixie bowl? Well, that's what I call this top-flight treat.

Preparing a mixie bowl:

Step 1: Grab a bowl

Step 2: Mix a bunch of yummy stuff in it.

OK, so Step 2 is rather wide open. (That's the beauty of it.) Here's what I often include:

Voila, one mixie bowl, best consumed with a spoon and in front of a warm TV.

Now please, don't get hung up on the ingredients I tend to use. Embrace the mixie bowl's enormous potential for variety.

For instance, drop the chocolate chips and crumble in a chocolate wafer. Or skip the flax and sprinkle in some granola. It's limitless.

Yes, a mixie bowl -- different every time, but always yummy. Why not raid the fridge and/or the baking cupboard and see for yourself?

And if you're inclined, drop me a note, describing the spin you'd put on a mixie bowl.

P.S. Case you're wondering, a mixie bowl is what I was referring to near the bottom of my About page.

Putting the "ate" in dehydrate: Part II

We've dehydrated apple, pear, peach, nectarine and strawberry.

As for vegetables, we've dehydrated zucchini, red pepper, carrot, parsnip, turnip and sweet potato.

Here's how we do it:

To dry fruits and veggies

• remove blemishes and wash well (no need to peel)
• cut into 1/4"-thick slices (or rings or strips)
• to minimize browning of apples, pears, etc., dip for 1 minute in solution of citric acid and ascorbic acid (1 1/2 tsps of each in 1 quart water; or use a commercial formulation such as Bernardin's Fruit-Fresh), then drain
• place on oven racks to dry (as explained in previous post)

Root vegetables seem to dry best at about 130°F; fruits and moist vegetables at 140°F.

Continue until dry to the touch. Root vegetables tend to be brittle when dried, but pears, zucchini, etc. are more desirable when leathery.

To add flavor, slices may also be pre-dipped in juices, honey, chili powder, garlic powder, and the like. Let your imagination run.

Disclosure

An oven is fine for a trial run or two, but unsuitable for drying large quantities. Ovens also consume considerable electricity and, lacking the built-in fan of a specialized dehydrator, they are less efficient, so drying time is considerably longer, upwards of twice that of a dehydrator.

If you intend to do this even semi-regularly, a dedicated food dehydrator is most useful. There are a number of brands. We own an old American Harvest, which was inexpensive and has proven dependable.