Eating Autumn
Neither my mediocre camera or photography skills are likely to generate anything compelling, so I'm going have to tell you about gingerbread.
Seattle gets accused of having no real seasons. Perhaps our changes aren't flashy, but when autumn comes, I can tell. Acorns cover the ground. In another time and place, farmers would take their pigs out to forage on the bounty beneath the oaks and beech. Away from human eyes, wild creatures from bears to voles would also take advantage of this last easy meal before winter. The air is softer in a way, as well as cooler, and mornings require a sweater. Scents are carried by the damp air: pine, cedar and the astonishing spice odor of fallen leaves.
Food thoughts turn to apples, pears, and especially to baking. Something to bring that spicy smell into the house and into hands and mouths. Autumn needs gingerbread. This is how I answered the call.
This gingerbread gets top marks. Unlike many versions, this recipe has enough of the signature ingredient: in addition to 2 teaspoons of powdered ginger, it contains a tablespoon of grated fresh ginger. It has the requisite good molasses flavor. While it would probably be quite nice topped with the lemon glaze or whipped cream often used, it doesn't need either for moistness. The original blogger writes of the lovely burnt-sugar crust that forms. It is not overstated.
A bit of gilt for this lily: it can be made gluten-free, and doing so makes it no less glorious. I replaced the 3 cups AP flour with 1/2 cup quinoa flour, 3/4 cup teff flour, 1/4 cup oat flour, 3/4 cup rice flour, 1/2 cup tapioca flour, 1/4 cup sorghum flour, and 1 teaspoon xanthan gum.
As good as it is the first day, it really does get better the next day as the flavors blend.
Make this. Make it the first morning the fog doesn't burn off by 8, or the morning after that. Eat it when you're fantasizing about getting a cider press.
Seattle gets accused of having no real seasons. Perhaps our changes aren't flashy, but when autumn comes, I can tell. Acorns cover the ground. In another time and place, farmers would take their pigs out to forage on the bounty beneath the oaks and beech. Away from human eyes, wild creatures from bears to voles would also take advantage of this last easy meal before winter. The air is softer in a way, as well as cooler, and mornings require a sweater. Scents are carried by the damp air: pine, cedar and the astonishing spice odor of fallen leaves.
Food thoughts turn to apples, pears, and especially to baking. Something to bring that spicy smell into the house and into hands and mouths. Autumn needs gingerbread. This is how I answered the call.
This gingerbread gets top marks. Unlike many versions, this recipe has enough of the signature ingredient: in addition to 2 teaspoons of powdered ginger, it contains a tablespoon of grated fresh ginger. It has the requisite good molasses flavor. While it would probably be quite nice topped with the lemon glaze or whipped cream often used, it doesn't need either for moistness. The original blogger writes of the lovely burnt-sugar crust that forms. It is not overstated.
A bit of gilt for this lily: it can be made gluten-free, and doing so makes it no less glorious. I replaced the 3 cups AP flour with 1/2 cup quinoa flour, 3/4 cup teff flour, 1/4 cup oat flour, 3/4 cup rice flour, 1/2 cup tapioca flour, 1/4 cup sorghum flour, and 1 teaspoon xanthan gum.
As good as it is the first day, it really does get better the next day as the flavors blend.
Make this. Make it the first morning the fog doesn't burn off by 8, or the morning after that. Eat it when you're fantasizing about getting a cider press.