Holiday Granola. Slightly belated.

As granolas go, this one is pretty damn festive.

I call this "holiday" granola because it contains dried cranberries, minced candied ginger, and is infused with the zest from satsuma oranges- which were always in my stocking as a kid.
Also, because I can only assume that people get sick of receiving cookies and shitty fudge (as I do)- I made a huge batch, jarred it up, and gave it away during the holidays. I love homemade gifts (really!), and I especially love it when they wont lead to adult onset diabetes and a fat ass.

While I would never call this granola healthy (ya know- the butter.), it is certainly more beneficial than the giant tub of flavored popcorn my sister-in-law sent us (half candy corn, half cheddar corn. All stale, smelly, vile, and eerily addicting).



This recipe is totally laid back. It turns out perfect and evenly golden every time. It comes from my old buddy Kurt, former owner of Cafe Septieme in Seattle, and now full time farmer. I usually don't add dried fruit to it- as it is delicious alone, but dried bing cherries, blueberries, or apricots are also nice compliments to it.

Next time you're fixing drop 6 or 7 bucks on a box of granola, why not just check out your pantry? You undoubtedly have all you need to make it yourself.

You'll thank yourself while it's baking and the aroma of honey and orange fills your kitchen.
You'll thank me once you've tried it sprinkled on vanilla ice cream.

Holiday Granola

5 cups rolled oats
1 cup pecan pieces
1 1/2 cups sliced almonds
3/4 cup shredded coconut (I prefer unsweetened- but use what you like)
1 1/2 tsp freshly grated nutmeg
9 oz unsalted butter
3/4 cup honey
zest of 1 orange (or 2 small satsumas)
1 cup dried cranberries
1/2 cup minced candied ginger



Pre heat the oven to 325
Toss the oats, nuts, and coconut together in a large bowl. In a saucepan, bring the butter, honey, zest, and nutmeg to a boil. Pour over oats and stir thoroughly, until mixture is evenly coated with the honey butter. Pour out onto 2 sheet pans.
Bake for approximately 30 minutes, stirring every 10 minutes.
Cool, then stir in dried fruit.

It would have been better with nuts....

It was still delicious, but my sister is anti-nut unless it's an almond or a hazelnut. Both of which were conveniently absent from her pantry shelf. We were going to the store for buttermilk, where nuts are easily obtained. But, no. She was determined to have this rhubarb bread come out nut free. Her kitchen, her rules....fascist.

Lonely lonely rhubarb
That's okay. Lucky for her, this is the most versatile and forgiving quick bread recipe of all time. Plus, she had just given me a really cool rug and a bunch of clothes (my sister Brooke is a clothes whore. Seriously. She was trying to give me stuff that still had the tags on it. Every time I see her, she has bags full of items to unload on me so that she can clear space in her closet for more f'ing clothes. I would suggest an intervention if her illness were not so beneficial to yours truly....is that bad? But honestly- In 8 years, the only articles I've had to buy for myself are chef pants and birkenstocks. Pretty much everything else comes from her. And she has good taste to boot.) so I wasn't going to throw down over something as petty as a nut. But walnut fans will be pleased to know that I did voice my opinion...several times.


You have no idea how good this smells. See the scented steam a-wafting out the top? Oh yeah.
Despite all that, I had such a delightful day with the sibling. She and her boyfriend, CK, just bought a house in the ridiculously quaint, historic downtown area of Everett. It's about 30 miles north of the less quaint, more crowded, and much snootier queen anne neighborhood of Seattle, where I live (I still love you Sea-town, you just piss me off sometimes). Everett is the type of town where everybody knows each other. We had brunch at an adorable cafe, where the owner is Brooke's new neighbor. Later, we had pints and salads at the Irish pub where she and CK attend(and sometimes win, cuz CK be all smart and stuff) trivia night once a week. The small town vibe has become foreign to me, so it almost felt like a mini vacation. I also fell in love with Brooke's new, enormous and light-filled kitchen. Complete with a dishwasher (also foreign to me) and a breakfast nook. Like her mother before her, Brooke's whole house is beautifully decorated, one of the umpteen reasons why I refer to her as the "talented one"- but the kitchen and I hit it right off. I refused to go home with out baking something in there for her boyfriend, who would be returning from teaching rock climbing lessons (or something environmental and hippi-ish like that) that night, tired and hungry. I would have found any excuse to play in there, but CK's weary return with a rumbling tummy immediately tugged at her heartstrings.

So, we made rhubarb bread. Here is the recipe. Please note that it is better with 3/4cup of toasted, chopped walnuts. If you are smart, and are adding the nuts, reduce the flour to 2 3/4 cups.

Rhubarb Bread adapted from Kate's mom (for inquiring minds, Kate is my old boss)

1 1/2 cups dark brown sugar (we have discovered that dark brown makes it noticeably superior. But use light if you must)
1 egg
6oz. melted butter
1 cup buttermilk
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
3 cups flour
2 cups sliced rhubarb


Topping:
2 T butter
1/2 cup granulated sugar

Sugary-buttery topping.This stuff is basically crack.
Pre heat oven to 350. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg, brown sugar, and butter. In a separate bowl, whisk the buttermilk salt and baking soda, then add to brown sugar mixture and whisk to combine. Add the flour and mix until just combined, then fold in the rhubarb. Pour into a greased loaf pan and set aside while you make the topping. In a small bowl, combine the granulated sugar with the 2 T butter. Mash with a fork until crumbly, then sprinkle over the batter. Bake at 350 for 40 minutes, then turn oven down to 325 and continue baking for 20-25 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool completely (overnight if possible- it's never possible...) before slicing and wolfing down.


Brookey Likey.

Ressurecting the Scone Lady....and a little Pie Lady backstory

I named my blog "The Pie Lady" because it describes me on many levels. I grew up eating my grandmother's pies that she made in big deep ceramic pie plates, loaded with blackberries that my sister and I would often pick for her. I can remember Mamo sending us out with a huge Tupperware bowl and being ordered to fill 'er up. We would come back to her, thinking what we had picked would be plenty. "Nope, more", she would say, and we would grudgingly walk down the street to pick more. We would do it with minimal complaints, because Mamo makes the best blackberry pie known to man. Don't even try to argue with me on this one. She just does. I'm still not sure what she does to it that makes it so good- perhaps it's the copious amount of fresh Washington blackberries and the loving touch that can only come from my dear little granny. My Mom's apple pie is also incredible. She clipped the recipe from a newspaper article sometime in the late 80's and it's been a favorite of mine ever since (though she never makes it anymore! Ahem- MOM!). Pie is my favorite dessert- good old double crust fruit pie with a big scoop of ice cream. You can keep your fancy pants tortes, tarts, trifles, and terrines. I'm sure they're delicious, but I'd rather have pie. If I had to live in a chocolate-less world, that'd be just fine if theres pie. I make a seasonal fruit pie daily at work, and judging by the way it sells, I am not the only one of this opinion. A few months before I gave birth to this blog, my friend Lesa and I were taking advantage of my employee discount at the restaurant. She ordered the bing cherry pie, took a bite, and said "Britt- you are the pie lady." Thus, the idea for my blog was created.

Bartlett Pear Scones

But there was a time, many moons ago, when dubbing me The Scone Lady would have been more accurate. First, at the old Greet Cat Cafe (may the Green Cat, beloved by many a vegan hipster in Seattle, rest in peace) where the recipe for their vegan scones was handed over to me. These were just damn good scones. Vegan or not- people loved them. When the business was sold and became Local Cafe, I was asked to stay on as pastry chef and brunch cook. Local was decidedly vegan un-friendly. I morphed the scone recipe into a buttery version and they were an even bigger hit- what a shock, people like butter. One day, a young couple looking to open a wholesale bakery out of the kitchen of their movie/dinner theater stopped in for a scone. I week later I was offered the job of running the bakery. Aching to get back into full time pastry, I accepted. For 2 years, these scones were a major part of my life. At 1:30 am, I would clock-in and start producing 200-300 of these guys for the coffee houses.

I've been out of the bakery gig since March and I couldn't possibly love my current job more. But sometimes, because I am insane, I do miss the graveyard life. listening to the BBC all by myself at Oh-God O'clock chugging Rock Star energy drinks(ew, I know) and digging my hands deep in pounds of soft, sticky scone dough. It was the ultimate in baking zen.

I'm now working a 9-5 shift with a big group of crass cooks...and I love it to pieces. I love my co-workers to pieces. They make kind gestures like setting aside a bit of the family meal they are serving that night before putting it out for the waitstaff. They box it up all neat and tidy, complete with a hello note, and put it in my pastry fridge labeled "Britt's lunch." It's the little things that matter to me. Oddly enough, even though I work in a restaurant, it's hard to make yourself something to eat. Theres plenty of "ingredients", but I rarely have time to actually cook anything for myself. Plus, I am constantly tasting my product, which means nothing but sugar in my tummy- not good. I get fooled into thinking I'm full, when really all I've had is little bites of empty calories and caffeine. Packing a lunch is just plain silly. Why bring sand to the beach? I've had this problem for going on 10 years. This is the first time I've had co-workers that recognize that. Today, having a nectarine leftover from the weekend dessert special, and a perfectly yellow bartlett pear sitting in the fridge, I decided to both satisfy a personal urge to go down scone-memory lane, and show my adoration to my fowl-mouthed compadres. I spent my lunch break in the kitchen, rather than on my derriere, making fresh buttermilk scones and munching on last night's root vegetable casserole.

Nectarine Scones

The boys arrived at 2 pm, to a couple of plates of scones, a few crocks of butter, and a fresh pot of coffee.
"who are these scones for?"
"They're for you guys, and that coffee is fresh too."
"Fuck Yeah!"
...Fuck Yeah. Thats all I needed to hear to know they appreciated the goodies, and to secure the tradition of leaving me lunch.


This is the basic recipe for buttermilk scones. I'm not going to go into great detail on the procedure, because a huge part of the scones outcome results from finesse in handling the dough. That is difficult to describe. Just pulse up the dry ingredients with the butter until it's crumbly,dump it into a bowl, add the egg and buttermilk, and mix gently- I use a bowl scraper to mix, or my hand. Fold in the fruit, pat the dough out onto a work surface, and cut it into 12 to 16 triangles, depending how big you want them. Bake at 350 until golden brown and firm to the touch. If you can pull off biscuits, these will be a cake walk.

Buttermilk Scones

4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
4 tsp baking powder
5 oz. cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1 1/3 cup cold buttermilk
1 egg
1 cup fresh fruit, diced
*for more in depth instructions on scones, and a variation of the buttermilk scone, see the everbearing strawberry post.*