Newport, RI: Franklin Spa

Unsurprisingly, after our long, drawn out dinners inNewport, we were pretty slow-going in the mornings.  But there were things to do, cliffs to walk, mansions to tour, and we needed to be refueled.  Given the duration and relative fanciness of the previous night’sdinner, we wanted something casual, but (of course) not at the expense of deliciousness.  Franklin Spa showed up on nearly every best-of breakfast / brunch list we came across, so we figured it must be a reliable spot.  So we headed on over and found a bustling breakfast scene.  After a wait of just a few minutes spent ogling the food being ushered past us, we settled into our corner booth, ready to enjoy some straight-up comfort food.

Franklin Spa is the epitome of a greasy spoon - not exactly what I had in mind when I heard the name of the joint.  From the swiveling stools at a counter in front of an open kitchen to the vinyl booths and the no-nonsense yet affable hey darlin’ sort of service you’d expect from a local joint, you just know you're in for an enjoyable meal. 

Most of the time, when I eat out, I am looking to experience new tastes and experiences and discover combinations I’d never have dreamed up on my own.  That’s not always the case for brunch.  Sometimes I am looking to be wowed, but sometimes I just want some comforting food prepared by someone else, someone who has their shit together at the ungodly hour of one p.m. on a weekend day. 

Smoked Salmon Benedict

For me, comfort food at brunch time is found in the form of smoked salmon and poached eggs.  It’s a go-to of mine because it’s relatively healthy (though hello, sodium!), straightforward and simple.  Despite this simplicity, it’s surprising how frequently the dish falls short of its potential.  I suppose I can’t expect busy kitchens to present me with perfectly poached eggs every time, but at the very least I expect to be met with runny yolks.  Diners tend to be well-seasoned egg-slingers, so I put my faith in the short-order cooks behind the counter and ordered a smoked salmon benedict – hollandaise on the side (so sue me, I’m not immune to the threats of butterfat, and it’s impossible to tell just how heavy-handed a kitchen will be with the hollandaise, so I figure it’s best to just apply it, or dunk it, realistically, myself).  The fellas at Franklin Spa did not let me down.  My eggs were perfect – perfectly runny, not a hard bit of yolk to be found, with thoroughly cooked whites.  The hollandaise was lemony and bright, though a bit clunky.  A simple dish very well executed, and served with some well-spiced home fries.

Corned Beef Hash

Robbie opted for the corned beef hash with poached eggs and hollandaise.  What can I say, we were a little sodium-hungry, I suppose.  His plate came teeming with fatty corned beef and browned potatoes. A hangover helper if there ever were one.

Stuffed French Toast with Bananas and Pecans

CF went with the stuffed french toast, which was topped at her request with bananas and pecans.  A solid move.  The battered slices of bread were barely able to contain the mounds of maple-spiked cream cheese within.  This was unabashedly decadent; not as sweet as you'd expect but very difficult to tackle alone.  I was glad I wasn't the one faced with the task, but happy to be able to sneak a taste. 

I didn't photograph CH's dish, but it was a chili and cheese omelet.  CH is to chili as Rob is to hot wings.  If it's on a menu, it's tough for him to look past it and order something else. When he saw it combined with breakfast food, he knew immediately it'd be his.  Bad move.  Learn from his mistake.  Not only did he not enjoy it much, but it repeated on him all afternoon, as if to remind him of his failing.  

That one misstep aside (and I'll put that one on CH, as opposed to Franklin Spa), this was a very solid meal.  It was unpretentious, relaxed and really quite good.  Recommended.

Franklin Spa

229 Spring St.

Newport, RI

(401) 847-3540

Beer Pancakes

About once a weekend I cook my wonderful boyfriend breakfast, or brunch, or whatever you'd like to call the first meal of the day that usually happens no earlier than 1 p.m. This process typically starts with a variation of an exchange in which I ask him what he'd like for breakfast, I tell him I can make him whatever he'd like, suggest a few things, and then make my way into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, I only offer to make meals that can be assembled from items that I already have on hand - the first meal of the day is not the time to go out for groceries, is it? (Let's not dwell on the fact that I have to merely cross the street to arrive at a more than serviceable grocery store, okay? Thanks.)

So imagine my displeasure when, after Robbie took me up on an offer of chocolate chip pancakes, I opened my fridge to find myself entirely out of milk, of any sort. No cow, almond or coconut milk, and definitely no buttermilk. Though he (probably) would have been happy with anything (edible) I put in front of him, because that's just the kind of guy he is, I didn't want to let him down.

But I recalled reading a Dear FloFab column in the Diner's Journal that revolved around a secret recipe for pancakes, and whether it was right for someone to insist on being given an old family recipe for pancakes that the question poser was given by her aunt on her deathbed, and is now the only person in the family in possession of the recipe. [Though now that I'm searching for this column I can't seem to find it anywhere, but I'm fairly secure enough in my sanity to say I read it at some point; maybe it just wasn't FloFab? Anyone?]



Scrolling down past Florence's pithy reply (how I love reading her responses to these questions), I came upon the comments. Many of them. And instead of responding to the question posed, instead of chiming in on the merits of keeping such a thing secret, the commenters to the post took turns guessing what that secret recipe might have hidden within it that it creates what must be the world's greatest pancakes. One of the commenters piped in: "beer!" Which makes sense, in a way, since beer contains both yeast and carbonation, which helps keep things light and fluffy, certainly an attribute when it comes to pancakes. I use seltzer in my matzoh balls to help keep those from becoming too dense, so the same logic would seem to apply to pancakes. And while I had zero types of milk in the fridge, I had no less than four types of beer. Problem - potentially - solved.

So I turned to Google, and found a few different recipes for beer pancakes, which I cobbled together. I used part whole wheat flour in part because I felt its nuttiness would play nicely with the malty undertones of the beer. And it did. The pancakes were light, but crispy around the edges, with faint yeasty notes in the backdrop that played surprisingly well with the chocolate chips.

What type of beer you should use will depend on how prominently you'd like to feature it in the taste. A cheap light beer will interfere less with the taste of the other ingredients, but will still provide a noticeable beer flavor. On the other hand, a nice rasperry lambic would work quite nicely as well, providing fruity notes that would play well with blueberries or chocolate chips in the batter. Regardless, once the bottle's open, you might as well finish it up. It's brunch, after all, and is brunch really brunch without booze?



Whole Wheat Beer Pancakes
Adapted from Multiple Sources
Serves 2

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
3 tablespoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 large egg, separated
1 cup beer (I used a cheap light beer, since I didn't want the taste of beer to be too prominent)
2 tablespoons butter, melted (optional, but why not)
1/4 good quality cup chocolate chips (optional, blueberries would also be good, especially with a fruity beer)

In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients. Add the egg yolk, beer and butter and whisk to combine. Don't overmix - it's okay if there are a few lumps.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg white with a hand mixer or whisk until soft peaks form. Add a bit of the egg white to the batter to lighten it before folding in the rest, being careful not to deflate the egg whites. Fold in the remaining egg whites to combined.

Note: if you want to skip this step, you certainly can, but I think separating the eggs results in wonderfully light pancakes. If you want to forego whipping the whites, just don't separate the egg and beat it lightly before adding it to the mixture with the beer and butter.

Heat a griddle or a skillet over medium heat and coat with a respetable layer of butter. I find that a little extra butter helps the edges of the pancakes get nice and crispy. Once the bubbles in the butter have subsided a bit, spoon the batter onto the hot griddle or skillet, using about 1/4 cup of the batter per pancake. Dot the surface of the pancakes with chocolate chips or blueberries, if using, pressing down on them gently so that they become slightly submerged in batter. When you see bubbles appear on the surface of the pancakes, about 3-4 minutes, flip them over and cook until done on the other side.

Serve with a dusting of powdered sugar and maple syrup and a healthy amount of bacon if you're hearing the siren song of a salty-sweet breakfast.

Oatmeal with Apples, Gruyere and Rosemary

With the start of each new year, many among us make resolutions, a large portion of which tend to revolve in some way around the way we eat - be it losing weight, eating more fruit and vegetables, eating more responsibly-sourced meat and local ingredients, and just generally getting healthier. While I don't kid myself with such grand illusions, every once in a while I make a resolution, and I do my best to make it stick. Apparently we're more likely to stick with a resolution if it's specific ("I will do yoga three times a week") rather than overbroad and vague ("I will exercise more"). The specificity gives us an actual goal to work towards, rather than a foggy conception of what it is we'd like to achieve, and it's therefore easier to hold oneself accountable. Last year I made an effort to floss every single day (please don't judge me for my less than exemplary flossing habits). I made it to the end of February - pretty good, mais non?

Truth be told, it's never a bad idea to eat healthily no matter what time it is, regardless of whether you've made resolutions or just want a general detox from the unavoidable holiday bingeing. I try to keep my diet relatively healthy, and I'm typically successful. One of the staples of my diet is oatmeal. It is one of the few things that I could eat every day, at practically any time, no less. I eat it at my desk for breakfast usually every day at work (with the odd fage detour). Sometimes I even eat it for dinner. I don't love over-sweetened oatmeal, but prefer to taste the nuttiness of the grains through whatever flavorings I'm using. When it comes to dinner, however, I often go for straight savory options.



I have, for a while, been using oat bran almost as a substitute for grits. The texture is not exactly the same, as oat bran does not maintain that same, well, grittiness that corn meal does, softening a bit further than polenta can as it cooks. It is, however, a good deal better for you than corn meal, with fiber and protein to keep you sated for a while. When it comes to those meals, I'll often flavor my oatmeal with a pinch of salt and a pepper, whatever spices or herbs I'm feeling at the moment, grate in a little bit of parmegianno for some umami, and top it with a runny-yolked poached egg. A little prick of that yolk sends the unctuous yellow river flowing from the egg, coating everything in the bowl with a wonderful richness. It's simple, it's satisfying, and it's really quite healthy.

Ever since reading that Mark Bittman loves his oatmeal topped with soy sauce and scallions, though, I've expanded my oatmeal horizons beyond my egg-topped oat bran and into the world of whole oats - the article serving as reassurance that my oatmeal was not going to revolt if I did not top it with brown sugar. I've tried different permutations, some sucessful and some not. A couple of (cough) weeks ago, however, I stumbled upon one that I quite like. And it should be no surprise, for the flavor combination is a quite familiar one.

Apples and oatmeal are frequently paired together, though usually cinnamon and brown sugar join them. This time, though, I went for gruyere, which I have used many times before to make grilled cheese and apple sandwiches. If the flavors worked there, why wouldn't they work here? And I added some rosemary to the pot, to brighten up the flavors and provide some freshness to the dish to make it seem a bit rounder, more complete. What I had was a fine dish indeed, it tasted healthful, but not boring. It was clean and simple enough for me to feel good about what I was eating, but not wish that I was eating something else. It is, simply, good.





Oatmeal with Apples, Gruyere and Rosemary
Serves 1

This is an approximation of a recipe, as I measured nothing except the oats and water. Granted, however, there are only two other ingredients that arguably require measuring.

I used quick-cooking steel-cut oats here, since I really like the way they almost seem to pop in your mouth, but I don't really want to stand over the stove for 45 minutes waiting for them to cook (though making this for dinner is less burdensome than making it for breakfast, as there's no impending need to get dressed and out of the house as soon as possible). While I'm sure this would work well with your standard rolled oats as well, I really like the textural contrast between the oats and the apples, which soften up during cooking.

1 tsp. butter (salted or non-, depending on your preference)
1 small to medium-sized apple, cut into bite-sized pieces (Skin on or off, as you desire. I like to leave the skin on since that's where a good amount of the nutrients in an apple are hiding. Also, I used a gala apple)
1/4 cup steel-cut irish oats or 1/2 cup rolled oats
1 cup water
a couple of tablespoons of shredded gruyere, or more to taste
Rosemary, 1/2 - 1 tsp fresh, finely chopped or 1/8 tsp dried, or to taste, depending on how much you like it
Salt and Pepper

In a small pot over medium heat, melt the butter and saute the apples until they start to soften up just a tad, about a minute or two. Once that happens, add the oats to the pot and stir them around a bit, allowing them to get toasty, which will create a nuttier depth of flavor. Toast for two minutes, stirring frequently and making sure they don't burn (you may need to add a touch more butter). Add the water, bring to a boil, and cook the oatmeal according to the package directions. Once the oatmeal is cooked, take it off the heat and allow the mixture to sit for a minute. Stir in the cheese and rosemary, season with salt and pepper to taste, and enjoy!

Huevos Rancheros

I've written here before about my tendency to become affixed on certain things for periods of time. Though sometimes protracted, these fixations are ultimately fleeting moments in my greater culinary life. However, from the period until the obsession starts until the craving is fulfilled, those fleeting moments can feel like far, far longer. Once a dish is in my head, I must have it, lest I never move on. Until that food passes through my lips, all other food is sub-par; yea, that foie gras brulee could be sublime, but if it was a cripsy, oozy grilled cheese I wanted, I will not be fully content.


Oftentimes, I can have a version of the dish and move on, but sometimes I need the idealized version of my obsession. Until I have that perfect dish, just as I've built it up in my compulsive, deranged mind, I will not - nay, I cannot move forward.



Lately, huevos rancheros have been the object of my desire. Why? I cannot tell you exactly, but the combination of toothsome, spicy black beans atop corn tortillas, covered with the liquid gold of a just-punctured over-easy egg, speckled with salsa fresca and a smokey, haunting salsa was something I just could not get out of my head.


Usually, huevos rancheros would be something I could very easily put together, in about twenty minutes flat. But popping open a can of beans was just not going to result in my perfect huevos rancheros. No, it couldn't just be any black beans, certainly none from a can would do. It had to be the fresh black beans I had purchased at the Union Square Greenmarket after the Times had touted their freshness and flavor.


What that meant is that my idealized version of the dish was not just something that could be thrown together willy-nilly after getting home from work one night. I couldn't just change out of my dress, grab a can opener, and have dinner ready in twenty minutes (at least the first time). Sure, the shortcut route was one I considered on various occasions when I got home late and tired and really, really wanted those huevos rancheros in my belly. But I never gave in; I just knew, deep down, that only huevos rancheros made with those beans would do. And dried beans, even when they're fresh and don't require overnight soaking, still need quite a while before they become tender enough to eat (at least enjoyably).



But when a cloudy summer Sunday sent me packing back from the Hamptons earlier than anticipated, I knew I had my chance. I had the time to both prepare my beans and turn them into the base for, well, for a lot of things, but immediately for my huevos. [And before I start hearing comments about "well, why didn't you just make the beans when you got home late one night, and then you would have had them ready to use later that week?" - there was no shot in hell that I was not making huevos rancheros as soon as I had spicy, salty, toothsome beans at my disposal, ready to go. That is all.]

And so I rinsed the beans, put them in a pot and added water so that the water level was about an inch over the beans, deciding to forego the "bring to a boil, let soak for one hour and rinse" step in lieu of just allowing them to cook a little bit longer.

Then I made my pico de gallo, chopping up some tomato (mercifully, finally in season, though blighted, tragically), onion, garlic and jalapeno and dousing it with some fresh lime juice as the beans boiled away on the stove.

And before long, I had my huevos rancheros, and they were everything I wanted them to be, and so, so much more. The months (literally, it had been two months spent with huevos on my mind) that I had waited seemed to wash away; all memories of my deprivation gone as I gleefully pricked the jiggly yolk with the tines of my fork, taking far too much pleasure in the destruction of one of nature's more perfect little packages. But I knew, as I watched that canary yellow liquid drizzle down over the beans, over the cheese, that I was going to be able to move on, and happily. I dragged forkful after forkful of those glorious beans through the unctuous cholesterol-laden goodness, relishing in not only the taste of my huevos rancheros, in the wonderful harmony of fresh ingredients, but also in my will power, in my devotion to my huevos ideal. I had not broken down and given in to something that I knew would not please me. I allowed myself to continue building it up, and it was totally, undoubtedly, worth it.



I want to talk about those beans - man, the Times knew what they were talking about. These were the best black beans I had ever eaten. Their texture and taste surpassed any that I had ever eaten from a can, and any that I had made from dry up to that point. While dried beans tend to have a better texture than canned (not to mention that you can control the sodium content and they are not suspended indefinitely in that filmy liquid), it is fully impossible to know just how many days, months, years those bags of Goya Frijoles Negros have spent on the supermarket shelves. I think it's safe to assume it's typically a very, very long while.

While I'd heard so many sing the praises of Rancho Gordo beans, I just could not validate the expense of having pricey beans shipped to me from across the country. But once I saw the Cayuga Organics stand at the Greenmarket, I had my chance to try some fresh beans at a far lower (albeit still higher than supermarket) price. Later in the week, I threw those beans into some tacos, and ok, just ate them out of the tupperware in the fridge. But the point is that the couple of hours it takes to make the beans the first night opens you up to their use in an infinite number of deicious ways later on.

And I can say now, with full conviction, that the freshness certainly makes a difference. The flavor and texture of these beans surpassed anything that I'd made in the past. They were wonderful, and are the new standard against which I will measure all black beans in the future. Sorry, Goya. [Still love ya, though, and I will undoubtedly return to you when tight for time].


Huevos Rancheros

In their simplest, most traditional form, huevos rancheros are just simply cooked eggs over tortillas with a smokey, red salsa, but those were not the huevos of my dreams. The dish is one that is open to interpretation, and can be made to suit your tastes and your whim. Add some guacamole (as I did later in the week), ditch the beans, add more cheese, fry the eggs right on the tortilla, keep them sunny side up, hell, go crazy and scramble them if you really want (not in my house, though). This dish is so easy to tailor to what you want and what you have that I find few times when I would not gladly call it my dinner. And it's healthy, too.

I prepared my beans from dried, boiling them in some water with a clove of garlic, which I'd crushed, about a quarter of an onion, a bay leaf, a few dashes of cumin and a pinch of red pepper. I added salt towards the end of the cooking process. There's a debate in the cooking world about whether salt should be added to beans as they cook. The antis say that the salt will break open the skins of the beans as they cook, and will destroy their shape and texture. Others say that the salt adds flavor, and with no discernable effect on their texture. As I love flavor, especially of the salty sort, I added salt, and my beans were none the worse for wear. I did add the salt as the beans were nearing doneness, though, to ward off any possibility that the skins would be torn to shreds.

I make a quick pico de gallo for one by cutting about a half a tomato and an equal volume of onion into small dice. I add to that a bit less than a clove of finely minced garlic and about a half a jalapeno, with a few of the seeds and the ribs added in for some extra heat. I roughly chop some cilantro and throw that in, add the juice of anywhere from a half to a whole lime, depending on how much juice each half yields, grind over it some salt and pepper, throw it in the fridge while the rest of the meal comes together to let the flavors mingle, and it's ready to go when I need it.

I feel a bit silly even posting a recipe for this, since it is open to endless variations and is so incredibly simple.

Serves 1

2 Corn tortillas
1/2 cup black beans, either prepared from fresh, or canned, rinsed and drained
1 ounce cheese of your choosing (I prefer cotija or a melty, sharp cheese)
Pico de gallo, as desired
Avocado or Guacamole, as desired
Cilantro, as desired
Sour cream, as desired

If not using freshly cooked beans, heat them up in a small pot.

Heat a skillet over medium heat. Add the corn tortillas, and, flipping frequently, allow them to heat through. Feel free to crisp them at the edges if desired. Remove the tortillas to a plate. Pile about 1/4 cup of black beans atop each tortilla.

In the same skillet, add some butter to lightly coat the bottom of the pan and crack in the eggs. Once the whites have set a bit, flip the eggs (or leave them sunny-side up) and allow to cook for about 30 seconds on the other side. Once the eggs are cooked to your liking, slide them out of the skillet onto the piles of black beans. Top with cheese as desired, and add some salsa (I love tomatillo salsa) and add whatever accoutrements you feel like. I love pice de gallo, some sour cream, cilantro, a few slices of avocado and some chopped radishes, which I think add a fresh, bright, peppery crunch to the dish.

Dig in, and enjoy.

A Sunny Hello

I would like first to apologize for my absence. I just returned from a wonderful week in San Francisco and the Bay Area, a questionably well-deserved break after finals. We ate and ate, and I have many wonderful things to share with you, but I would like to give this past week the attention it deserves, which happens to be a bit more than I can muster up the time and energy to devote right now.

Though I have a backlog of things to share, my trip included, I did want to stop by and share a nice little brunch I made for myself this morning (in about 5 minutes). My no-holds-barred approach to food this past week left me yearning for something healthy and light, yet still filling. And the textures and the flavors seemed befitting of an all-too-cold spring morning; brightness of the salmon and green onion, a perfectly oozing poached egg, accompanied by the heartiness and identifiable graininess of the wild rice. The flavors were bright, the dish was not heavy, but it still had substance and bite thanks to the rice cakes.



Wild Rice Cakes with Smoked Salmon and Poached Eggs

I used leftover rice from my dinner last night; it is SunWest Harvest Medley, a medley of CalMati Brown Rice, Wild Rice, Heirloom Red Rice and Sweet Brown Rice. It has great bite and crunch to it, which is what I love about it. Any substantial rice would work, but I especially like the fact that this has a variety of textures running throughout. The rice cake is a nice healthy alternative to an English muffin – though it has another egg in it, there’s whole grains and protein in there, as opposed to just some measly flour. The cakes would be great topped with salmon and crème fraîche as well, if the addition of more eggs is not to your liking. They’re a great base and are open to infinite adaptations and uses. Try the rice cakes with chorizo and jalapeno inside for a spicy spin and top with fried eggs, for example.

For the Rice Cakes:
1 cup cooked wild rice
1 green onion, white and light green parts only, finely chopped
1 egg, lightly beaten
Pinch dried thyme
Salt
Pepper
1 tablespoon Butter

Assembly:
4 oz smoked salmon
4 eggs
1 T vinegar
Chooped fresh parsley for garnish

Mix rice and green onions in a small bowl. Mix in the egg and season with thyme, salt and pepper. Heat the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Using a 1/4 cup dry scoop, spoon the mixture into four equal-sized mounds in the skillet. Use the back of the dry scoop to flatten each slightly until they resemble pancakes. Cook until lightly browned, about three minutes, and flip to brown the other side.



While the pancakes are cooking, fill another skillet with about 1 1/2 inches of water. Bring it to a boil and add in the vinegar. Reduce to a simmer and crack the eggs, one at a time, near the surface of the water. The fresher your eggs, the better they'll poach.* Cover and allow to simmer for about four minutes, or until the whites are set and the yolks are still runny. If you like your yolks more well-done increase the cooking time until they're cooked to your liking. Remove with a slotted spoon, allowing excess water to drip off.

Neatly arrange an ounce of salmon over each rice cake, then top with a poached egg. Sprinkle with parsley. If desired, a hollandaise sauce would work quite nicely with this, but that's definitely going to up the prep time of this quick meal.

* I learned a neat trick recently to tell whether your eggs are fresh. Fill a glass (wide enough to fit an egg) with water. Gently place your egg in the glass. If it sinks horizontally to the bottom, your egg is very fresh. If it sinks with the tip to the bottom, it is less fresh. If it floats, it is bad and should be tossed. Helpful, no?

Sodie McBread

Among the holidays outside of my family’s ethnic heritage but which we celebrate nonetheless with food, I’ve always been a bit wishy-washy with St. Patrick’s day. Don’t get me wrong, I love to celebrate the holiday with the rest of the Irish and non-Irish world on the streets and in the bars of Chicago (or Montreal, or New York). Corned beef and cabbage was just never really my thing. Actually, I’ve always quite liked the cabbage part, but I didn’t warm up to corned beef as much. My dad spends hours boiling the brisket and my brother loves it like green loves beer.

When I was younger I would sit there and pick all of the visible fat off of the corned beef, which was honestly disgusting – but my family is forced to love me so I was never too concerned.

This isn’t to say I don’t like corned beef at all, I much prefer it sandwiched between two pieces of bread with a ton of spicy mustard is all. In fact, on Sunday I kind of had a hankerin' for the stuff, but I wasn't going to set out to cook a giant hunk of meat with a trip on the horizon.

Aside from the corned beef and cabbage, my parents always come home with soda bread around St. Patrick's day. I would pick at it, slowly, until, sure enough I had eaten nearly the entire thing on my own. Cakey, crumbly, slightly sweet and rather dense, the stuff is just great. And so, with my St. Patrick’s Day celebrations taken care of on Saturday (though the effects were still being felt, surprise, surprise, for the rest of the weekend), and Mom and Dad a few hundred miles away, I set out to bake a loaf.

I looked at quite a few recipes, and they varied immensely, using anywhere from two to five cups of flour and two tablespoons to half a cup of butter. Being that it is now spring break and most of my friends have taken off already, I figured there was no need to bake anything with five cups of flour. So I settled on the recipe you see below, tweaking things ever so slightly. The recipe didn’t call for caraway seeds, but I absolutely needed them in there. They remind me of the pumpernickel bagels that I, unlike probably every other child in the city of New York, could not get enough of as a kid. I added the raisins because I felt like I should, since every soda bread I’ve ever eaten has had them in there. I don’t care much for raisins, but pretty much everyone else in the world does, so I figured if I was going to share this with anyone (which is still to be determined), they might appreciate that. The bread came out golden brown, incredibly moist, crumbly, but not impossible to cut a nice slice (though well all know that a hunk of it just tastes better than a slice) and just begging for a generous pat of butter.



Irish Soda Bread with Caraway and Raisins
Adapted from Bon Appétit, February 2005

2 cups all purpose flour
3 tablespoons plus two teaspoons sugar, plus more for dusting loaf
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon baking soda
2 ½ tablespoons butter, chilled, cubed
1 cup buttermilk
2/3 cup raisins
1 heaping tablespoon caraway seeds

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease an eight inch cake pan with butter or coat with nonstick spray.

Combine flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and baking soda in a large bowl and whisk together. Add the butter and rub into the dry ingredients with your fingertips until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the buttermilk. Slowly mix until the dry ingredients are incorporated. Mix in raisins and caraway seeds.

Lightly flour your hands and form the mixture into a ball. Place into the cake pan and press down to bring the ball closer to the edges of the pan (don’t worry, it won’t touch). Using a floured knife, cut an X in the center of the loaf, about ½ to 1 inch thick. Sprinkle about a teaspoon of sugar over the top of the loaf.

Bake for about 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan for ten minutes then turn out onto rack. Serve warm with butter and jam. This bread toasts up great, too.

Hope you all had a great St. Patrick’s Day!