I could cook dinner for you

But I'd rather make you breakfast. Wink.

Breakfast is my favorite meal to cook or go out for. Breakfast food is naturally comforting, and long, leisurely Sunday morning breakfasts are one of my fondest family-food-memories.



I actually had this for lunch--almost dinner--but who cares? Porridge was always a weird idea to me until Mom Chau started making congee for us in Walla Walla. Unlike the unappetizing images that Goldilocks and the Three Bears conjures, porridge is leftover grains simmered with excess water (or other liquids) until it reaches a thick consistency and the already-cooked grains have absorbed a lot of the liquid. Think more like oatmeal than gruel. Congee is usually a savory rice porridge, but here I make a sweet version using coconut milk and various fruits. Inspired by a recipe in the cookbook The Vegan Gourmet by Susann Geiskopf-Hadler and Mindy Toomay.


Sweet Rice Porridge
Makes about 2 servings

2 1/2c leftover cooked rice (I used long grain, short grain will also be ok)
1 c soymilk
1 c water
1/2 c coconut milk
dash of salt

Bring this to a boil then reduce to a simmer. Stir occasionally to disperse liquid and scrape rice off of the sides and bottoms of pan to prevent browning. Continue to simmer until most all of the liquid has been absorbed, then remove from the heat.

Stir in:
Two dollops of ginger syrup (or substitute)
Two dashes of cinnamon
2 Tbsp brown sugar
(or whatever sweetners you like, to taste)

Divide into two bowls and top each other with a quarter pomegranate's worth of seeds, about a thawed half cup of those blueberries you picked out in Redland last summer, one half of a chopped ripe pear, and a handful of toasted walnuts. Yum!



I used a pomegranate that has been sitting around for a couple weeks. This skin was no longer smooth and shiny, but rather rough. The fruit, however, was exceedingly delicious, far moreso than that of other pomegranates I've eaten this season. Less tart and more sweet and full. Woo sugars!

PS--Prior to eating, I divided a package of snapper to wrap for freezing, and didn't quite get all the smell off of my hands. As I was eating the porridge, I was amazed at how similar the taste of slightly burned toasted walnuts was to raw snapper, which is a rather pungent scent. Just now, the smell has faded to something more like jasmine green tea. Score one for esters!

in which our heroine

My hair smells like good clean boy. I don't have and haven't been rolling around with a good clean boy, but my hair smells like it. Strange how smell can have such a strong effect on our associations and memories--all it really is is a molecule or several fitting into some fancy receptors and triggering some kind of synapse pathway leading to memory. (I'm guessing; no actual research done here. I figure your nose if like your tongue, just a lot less... well, I guess measures of fun are subjective.)

Earlier today I was remembering very distinctly the smell of the old video store that used to be at the bottom of the cliff in Oregon City and trying to pinpoint the separate elements--stale popcorn, hot plastic, subtly old smoke, repaired TVs... I should have been working on writing instead of rememorying, c'est la vie.

Ok, all of that was really just to throw in some science to justify blogging about new haircut!

Before, notice how the rain from biking around last night has made it all very wispy, curly, buoyant, romantic, feminine, very much like all those damn cream puffs she's been baking. I would make a nice dinner and then cuddle with her, wouldn't you?


After, a little more flash, a little more dominance, this girl is more likely to throw a silly dance move your way and toss a wink as she licks the chocolate off of the puff than snuggle up with some hot chocolate and an old movie (not that she wouldn't want to).

(It has product in it that smells like Nice Clean Boy smell. Mmm...)


Odwalla's PomeGrand juice is really great when you reduce to about half-volume with an hour of good simmering and more than a few dashes of sugar. Mmm, PomeGrand syrup. Do not ingest if allergic!

brest dessert ever

Flaunting: Although my desserts have aways met with applause (or maybe mumbles of pleasure through crumb-filled mouths), I've been meaning to challenge myself by stepping up and attempting pastries, since most of my recipes center around solid American baked fare: cakes, pies, cookies, etc. I took initiative and acquired an inexpensive pastry book ("both sweet and savory!"). In the ongoing epic that is my growing knowledge of Jewish cultural events, I was invited to a pomegranate-themed Shabbat dinner this past week. I waffled about what to make and was about to settle for some variation of vegan cupcakes but decided to step up to the challenge (threat?) of French pastries.

I was not successful.

Not by my standards, at least.

But it came out awesome! I made a Gâteau Paris-Brest (ha ha, Brest), which is essentially a giant ring-shaped cream puff pastry filled with pastry cream and topped with sliced almonds. I added pomegranate seeds to the pastry cream and reduced pomegranate juice with additional sugar to make a (not thick enough, perhaps needed more sugar to make a syrup?) sauce. The creamy sweetness was complimented wonderfully by the tangy sauce and crunchy seeds. Here is a piece, two days later:



There is also a piece of King's Galette (I think?) hiding behind the gâteau, courtesy of Housemate Emily.

I don't think it was at the high temperature for long enough to form the hard pastry that resists deflation upon cooling. I also forgot to vent the oven during that time, which is supposed to help the steam escape, but once done may have also cooled the oven (it's an old oven) and prevented the gâteau from getting to the correct temperature. I was under the impression that I was in a rush, so rather then let it bake longer, I just let it cool and scooped out the still-moist bits. I made a double batch of pastry cream (good, since a lot of the cream boiled over, all over the stove), but next time I may even attempt a triple, since I think the cake could use more. I'd be interested to try this with all sorts of other fruits or chocolate, and it's boosted my confidence in branching out.

Needles to say, there were many breast jokes made during dessert. Even more needless to say, most of them came from me. Way to be mature, Ebeth, way to be mature.