Category Archives: Fruit

Embracing High Heat, Part II (The Sweet)

Not your ordinary banana muffin.

Yesterday, you read on Food Gal about how high heat does wondrous things to plain ol’ shrimp.

Today, you can learn that it also does amazing things to baked goods.

Just take these “Roasted Banana Muffins” from the “PlumpJack Cookbook” (Rodale) by Napa food and wine writer, Jeff Morgan.

Actually, you’d have to pry them from my hands because they are just way too good. So much so, you’d have to be a very generous soul to part with any of them.

What makes them so extraordinary?

High heat that roasts the bananas, whole, in their skins, before you peel them, mash them, and stir them into the batter.

Ten minutes at 400 degrees will turn the skins black. After awhile, juices will begin to seep out. That’s when you know the bananas are ready to be removed from the oven.

High heat caramelizes the natural sugars in the bananas, concentrating the fruit flavor.

This is a very simple muffin recipe that doesn’t have a whole lot of frills to it. Because it’s so plain-Jane, you’ll be struck by how banana-y these muffins taste. There’s a deep, pronounced flavor here, despite the few ingredients.

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Short and Sweet

My oh my, the pastry cart.

That’s what apricot season usually is.

But according to reports, this year’s will be even briefer because an early frost and a rainy spring wrecked havoc on fragile apricot blossoms.

So if you still spy apricots at your local farmers’ market, do pick some up to enjoy.

That way, you also can bake this beauty — “Apricot, Almond Brown Butter Tart” by Cindy Pawlcyn, chef-owner of Napa Valley’s Mustards Grill, Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen, and Go Fish.

A taste of the season.

Made with slivered almonds pulverized with confectioners’ sugar, flour, and eggs, the tart tastes faintly of almond paste. It’s moist and sweet like that, too. Plus it has a very rich buttery flavor. (There’s 1 1/2 sticks of butter in this tart, if you must know.) Indeed, the tart’s foundation is a buttery crust that’s pre-baked. Apricot halves poke through the top all the way around, like sunshine bursting through the clouds.

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A Fruity Jerky

Not your grandfather's jerky.

This is not your min-mart jerky.

Thank goodness.

When Wichita Falls, TX-based Jerky.com sent me a sample of its new “Pineapple Jerky,” I had horrifying visions of sinewy, jaw-breaking dried meat sheets doused in pineapple juice arriving on my doorstep.

What came in the mail was something all together different: Thin, dried rounds of actual pineapple. No meat was involved; only honey. And this “jerky” was actually pretty, almost resembling a dried flower.

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Apricots — In the Evening (Part 2)

Do mix fruit with your poultry. Just do it.

I know a woman who turns up her nose at vegetables in baked goods. Sweet potato pie and pumpkin cheesecake would never touch her lips.

No doubt, she’d push her plate away at fruit tucked into savory dishes, too.

If only she knew what she was missing.

Apples with Cornish game hens. Pears with pork. Duck with cherries.

And of course, apricots with chicken.

There’s just something magical about the slightly sweet, softly rounded flavors of fruit in a main dish.

“Sara’s Persian Chicken” perfumes chicken thighs with cardamom, cumin, cinnamon, ginger, saffron, and dried apricots. It’s akin to a classic chicken tagine, but this recipe from “Braises and Stews” (Chronicle Books) by Tori Ritchie takes a little less effort and time.

I love to serve it with couscous. Just follow the directions on the box of your favorite brand of quick-cooking couscous. I like to cook it with chicken broth instead of water. Sometimes I’ll throw in a pinch of saffron, or not. After it’s cooked, and has steamed to a fluffy texture, I’ll add half of a chopped preserved lemon, some minced chives, and a handful of toasted pine nuts. For a more substantial side dish, stir in some canned, rinsed and drained chickpeas, too, if you like.

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Apricots — In the Morning (Part 1)

Memories of dried apricots.

Whenever I bite down on a baked good bursting with orange flecks of sweet-tart, chewy dried apricots, I can’t help but think of family road trips.

It makes me think of a time, ensconced in the back seat of my parents’ car, when I’d get all giddy as we pulled into the parking lot of the original Nut Tree in Vacaville. It was the perfect spot to take a break on trips to Sacramento to visit family friends or to Lake Tahoe, where my family used to rent a cabin in the summer. You could fill up on lunch, beverages, or even take a mini train ride. What it meant most to me, though, was getting my hands on a loaf of apricot nut bread.

You’d find the tea cake loaves stacked on a counter, wrapped in paper and plastic, and tied with a fuzzy string of orange yarn the same color as the apricots. There was a date nut bread, and a blueberry one, too. But my family’s favorite was always the apricot.

We’d buy a loaf — or two — and carry it home, where we’d enjoy a slice for breakfast, dessert, or an anytime snack. It was tender, moist, crunchy with nuts, and bursting with tanginess here and there from the pieces of stone fruit. It’s remains my first — and fondest — memory of dried apricots.

Back then, a car trip was something special, as plane tickets for a working-class family of five were a stretch. I guess that’s why dried apricots inexplicably make me think not only of family, but of adventures and travel, sort of like my own edible Eurail pass.

The Nut Tree closed long ago. Although there’s now a Nut Tree Theme Park, I’ve never stopped at it. And I doubt the nut bread is still part of the repertoire.

Flaky, buttery apricot scones.

You could say that “Apricot Flaky Scones” from Flo Braker’s “Baking for All Occasions” (Chronicle Books) cookbook are not at all like a Nut Tree nut bread. They aren’t, except for the fact that they do have jewels of dried apricot pieces throughout a crispy exterior and a fluffy, buttery interior. They also have nuts — in this case, pistachios. Like my nut bread of yore, the scones also are not overly sweet, making them a nice way to start the day without an over-bearing load of sugar.

Braker gives precise directions for folding the dough into thirds like a business letter, so that the scones end up slightly puffed and layered inside. And they do. She says to cut them into thin, small wedges to create 14 scones. I like my scones a little wider, so I cut the dough into a dozen instead.

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