Pistachio almond cake with candied kumquats (or dried apricots) recipe

Kumquat. Kumquat. Kumquat.

I was eight years old and held a basket of the exotic sounding fruit in my lap. The strange new word spun around in my head. As we rolled through Georgia with the windows down, I marveled at each specimen, no larger than a peanut shell from the fields we passed on our way home to New Jersey from Florida. My young taste buds cringed when I took a bite. The sweet, intense orange of the rind hit first, but the bitter pith followed; along with it came the pucker-inducing aftermath of the interior. I really, really wanted to like them. They were so cute! The name thrilled me. I didn’t want to disappoint my dad. But his enthusiasm as he handed me the box was lost on me when I sampled them, and now I understand. Sweet tarts are for children, but bitterness is an acquired, adult taste.

Recently I saw baskets of kumquats at the grocery store, marking the tail end of the citrus season. My hand impulsively reached for them, propelled by subliminal memories of those long drives with Dad. Before I knew it there were three baskets in my cart. They’re good to munch on in the middle of a late afternoon slump, to snap you out of the lethargy that hits at about four o’clock. And I wanted to bake with them, but how?

Now we come to the crux of this post: how does a recipe evolve?

(This might bore you, in which case, just skip to the recipe) Let’s take it in clichés.

1) There’s a bee in my bonnet!

The idea: A faint buzzing began years ago. Back then I had a conversation about Nigella Lawson’s boiled orange cake from her new book How to Eat with my friend Ken at The Garum Factory.

When Ken and Jody posted their recipe for pistachio blood orange cake recently (citing Lawson’s cake as the inspiration) I was reminded of our conversation and the buzz got louder. The day after I took home my haul of fruit, I discovered an olive oil pistachio cake with berries at a local Middle Eastern café and bakery. Hmmm (bees flying around up there) I wanted to make a cake with my kumquats.

2) Like a dog with a bone.

Refine and execute the idea: I was thinking about an olive oil one-bowl cake that wouldn’t be too sweet, something you could make easily and enjoy with breakfast or afternoon tea. The pull: olive oil + pistachios + orange flavors + maybe some rose water = romantic, fragrant, Mediterranean. I wanted a casual cake, nothing fancy. A cake you could cut into squares. I started by editing an olive oil cake from my recipe box. I thought I’d put the kumquats on top, but they’d need to be candied first. Candying the kumquats was easy, much like candying orange peel, but a lot faster and a lot less work. When I put them on top of the cake, the baked result looked sad and unappealing. Also, they were hard to cut nicely once they were candied whole. Back to the drawing board. The next time I put the kumquats in the cake and used whole wheat pastry flour. I was getting warm, but I wasn’t home yet.

3) Go the extra mile, that’s why they pay you the big bucks.

Tweak until you can tweak no more:

Okay, this is free content. But no self-respecting cook stops at pretty good. I tweaked the kumquat recipe to make it even easier, and then added some butter with the olive oil to the cake. Bingo! I was happy with the result: a fragrant, slightly crumbly cake with the texture of corn bread. I could have kept going. If I had ground the nuts a little more or used nut flours the cake might have had a finer crumb, but I liked the coarse, nutty texture. I also loved the individual kick of the candied kumquats. If you want to skip that step (or when kumquats are out of season) substitute apricots softened briefly in boiling water and drained.

4) Now I have my cake, and I’m eating it too.

Pistachio cake with candied kumquats (or apricots)

Makes 1 (9-by-12-inch) cake (12 small squares)

I used a full 2 tablespoons of Cortas brand rose water for this cake. It had been around for a while. I recommend you adjust the amount according to the strength of the particular rose water you are using (give it a sniff test) because there can be a wide variation in the potency depending on the brand. You will find it in markets that sell Indian or Middle Eastern food. It also makes a wonderful addition to ice cream if you happen to make that at home.  I even put it in rhubarb when I make a rhubarb dessert. Once you have it in your pantry you will surely find many uses for it in baking.

This isn’t quite a one- bowl cake, but it’s close. You have to grind the nuts in a food processor and then add the remaining ingredients, but the fruit needs to be folded in by hand so it stays in big pieces.

1/2 cup pistachios

1/2 cup whole almonds, blanched or unblanched

3/4 cup blonde cane sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 to 2 tablespoons rose water

1/2 teaspoon pure almond extract

6 tablespoons room temperature unsalted butter, cut in slices

3 eggs

1/3 cup mild flavored olive oil

1 1/3 cups whole wheat  pastry flour

1 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 cup milk

Candied kumquats (about 1 cup), drained (recipe below) or 1 cup softened apricots, quartered

3 tablespoons chopped pistachios

Confectioner’s sugar, for dusting

1. Set a rack in the middle of the oven.  Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9 by 12-inch baking pan. Dust with flour and tap out the excess.

2. Place the pistachios, almonds, sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Process until the nuts are finely ground. Add the rose water,  almond extract, and butter slices. Pulse the machine to mix. Add the eggs, olive oil, and milk. Pulse to mix. Add the flour and baking powder. Pulse until well combined. Scrape batter into a bowl.

3. Fold kumquats into batter and scrape into baking pan. Smooth with the back of a spoon and sprinkle with chopped pistachios.Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until top is golden, and a toothpick pushed into the center of the cake comes out clean.

4. Set the cake pan on a rack to cool. When completely cool, sprinkle with confectioner’s sugar and cut the cake into 12 squares.

Candied kumquats

Makes about 1 cup

Leftover kumquat syrup is excellent in lemonade, iced coffee, or even cocktails (try it in a French 75, the very first cocktail I sipped when I reached drinking legal age, at the Carlyle Café in New York!)

1 pint kumquats, halved crosswise


1 cup sugar

1. Place the kumquats in a small (2 quart) saucepan, cover with cold water, and add a pinch of salt. Set the pan over medium-high heat and bring to a rolling boil. Boil for 10 seconds. Drain and discard the water.  Rinse under cold water and repeat, adding fresh cold water and salt. Drain and rinse under cold water. Drain again.

2. Return the kumquats to the saucepan. Add the sugar and 3/4 cup water. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the sugar dissolves and the syrup comes to a boil. Stop stirring and continue to cook, without stirring, for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the kumquats are translucent and the syrup measures 220 degrees on a thermometer.  If sugar crystals form on the sides of the pan, wash them down with a pastry brush dipped in water.

3. Pour kumquats and syrup into a shallow pan and let cool for 30 minutes or longer. If not using right away, refrigerate kumquats in syrup in a glass jar.

How to candy kumquats (tutorial)

Combine halved, twice-boiled kumquats with sugar and water in a small saucepan. Don't worry about the pits. You can pick out stray pits when the kumquats cool and the rest are small enough to ignore.

Bring to a boil over medium heat. The bubbles will look light, large, and uneven. Foam will rise to the top and the pot may boil over if you don't watch it, so pay attention and adjust the heat.

After about 8 minutes, the bubbles will be more even and the syrup will be thicker (more like thin real maple syrup, not like corn syrup.)

After 10 to 12 minutes, the fruit will have softened and become translucent. If you have a thermometer, it should register 220 degrees. Otherwise, you can just eyeball it.

Pour the kumquats and syrup into a flat pan to cool. After about 30 minutes, they will be ready to use. Drain and save syrup  in the refrigerator for sweetening drinks, or for anything that calls for simple syrup. If not using right away, store fruit and syrup in a glass jar in the refrigerator.


See Jody and Ken’s fabulous (gluten free) pistachio orange cake here.

Posted on May 1, 2012 and filed under Breakfast, Cakes.

For the birds? Spring peas and asparagus with millet

Mother Nature, why do you keep messing with us?

If you can’t make up your mind what season it is, how are we supposed to know what to eat?

Regular readers here may believe that I have officially crossed over to the yet unclassified condition known as weather-dependence.

Boring? Yes.

Incurable? Not sure. But I ask you, how does anyone know what they feel like eating, and by extension, cooking, without seasonal signposts? No matter if the climate comes from the outside or the inside. Who hasn’t downed a pint of haagen dazs—make mine vanilla—in the midst of a personal global warming meltdown? We need parameters.

So, I am making up your mind for you, Mother Nature. Tease us. Blow hot or blow cold. I’m going with spring today, because I found a bag of shelled English peas in the market. (Trader Joe’s if anyone wants to know.) Now I’m all for meditating over a basket of peas, shucking them on the back steps and all that. But it is a summer occupation, a ritual I rely on when I need a vacation even though I am really just at home, wishing I were on a screen porch somewhere. For now, I’ll take the bag, and thank you very much Trader Joe’s.

I was expecting the peas to be starchy and a bit mushy, since as a general rule, peas’ sweetness migrates to starchiness soon after they are picked (hence the acceptability of, and often preference for, frozen peas), but these were pleasantly sweet and firm.

To make a quick grain and vegetable dish, I added some asparagus and chose millet (which is actually a seed, not a grain.) Why bird food, you ask? Well, I hadn’t cooked with it before, and what with all the hoo ha about quinoa, I wanted a change. It cooks quickly, too. I followed Whole Foods’ directions and destroyed the first batch with too much water. After that fiasco, I cut way back on the liquid, added some lemon juice and salt, and the grains emerged from the pot golden and separate with a hint of bite.

Then, as I was writing this post, a memory of a trip we took about 10 years ago popped up (really, where does the time go?) I was able to rummage around for these rudimentary photos of a tiny village in Tanzania where millet is a staple. Why it took me so long to cook it is a mystery. Turns out millet has been cultivated for at least ten thousand years, and since it grows well in harsh areas susceptible to drought, it is a staple in Africa and parts of Asia. It is an excellent source of magnesium (good heart health), phosphorous, iron and B vitamins. So there.

Serve it with roast chicken or some plain grilled meat or fish. If you like, add leftovers to your leftover pilaf: stir in some cooked chicken and eat it for lunch.

Millet with spring vegetables

Serves 4

For the millet

1 cup millet

1 3/4 cups water

Juice of 1/2 lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Combine millet, water, lemon juice and salt in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat. Adjust the heat to a simmer and cover the pot. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the millet absorbs the water and is tender. Fluff with a fork.

For the pilaf

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 bunch scallions, trimmed and thinly sliced

1 pound asparagus, tough ends trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces

Salt and pepper, to taste

2 cups shelled English peas

Finely shredded zest of 1 lemon

1. Melt the butter over medium heat in a large sauté pan. Add the scallions and cook 1 minute, or until soft. Add asparagus, salt and pepper to taste, and 1/2 cup water. Cook 2 minutes over medium heat. Add peas and 1/4 cup more water if pan is dry. Cook 1 to 2 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender. Stir in half the lemon zest.

2. Toss the millet and vegetables together in a serving bowl. Taste and add more salt and pepper if you like. Sprinkle with remaining lemon zest.

Posted on April 20, 2012 and filed under Vegetarian, Side dishes, Spring food, Beans and Grains.

Spring bounces back with watercress soup

There’s something unnerving about a summer day in March. The show outside is like a time-lapse movie: buds on fruit trees don’t sweetly emerge in a slow and lady-like fashion, but pop screaming into existence from their branches in contrast to the surrounding dark and barren limbs that didn’t get the memo.

I want nature to behave, to be consistent. I want some outside sign to tell me all is right with the world, because inside I’m at sixes and sevens. (It’s those odd numbers that get you.) I just wrote to a friend telling her I was at a conference with a thousand other people and it felt like a visit to Maggie’s Farm. I’ve come home with a head full of ideas, going from cheerful to discouraged and back again at whiplash pace. In other words, business as usual.

The noise in my head is just the noise in my head. It’s a congenital condition that I must constantly manage. I’m beginning to accept that as I watch my life unfold. In low moments it feels like a B movie, but I’m learning to laugh at myself for that, too. At the conference I reconnected with some wonderful people, and met many more talented and inspiring fellow food writers. The sheer numbers and volume of information were temporarily overwhelming.

Be yourself! Write what you are passionate about! If you’re not Giada or Gwyneth, you can’t write about that! Write what will sell! Be authentic! Get a platform! Be on facebook and twitter! Don’t be on facebook and twitter! (Unless it feels right!) Monetize! Don’t monetize! (Unless if feels right!) Be on the radio! Make t.v. appearances! (As if.) Have a vision! Have a plan!

(Breathe deeply.)

Now that I am home, the weather is cooperating. Chilly April days prolong the blooms, and the spring light is heartbreaking. For once I welcome the cold. It feels right. I know I just have to keep my head down and put one foot in front of the other. At the end of the day, is there any other choice? The warm weather will arrive soon enough and the garden awaits. Meanwhile, I’m making bowls of comforting spring soup.

These are Vidalia spring onions, with bulbs much larger than scallions

Spring watercress soup

Serves 4 (makes 8 cups)

Although you can find it all year long, wild watercress grows from April to November in cool, shallow running water. In our restaurant near Woodstock, New York we gathered watercress from a treasure trove growing at the head of a spring that emerged here and there on its course down the mountain. Watercress duty was a particularly coveted mission—not often could you find a reason to escape the hot kitchen and see the light of a midsummer day to plunder piles of the peppery greens from hand-numbing water.


nutritional claims

have attached themselves to watercress over the years: it is rich in vitamins and minerals such as iron, calcium and folic acid.  According to Francis Cuppage’s book, James Cook and the Conquest of Scurvy, watercress kept the good captain’s sailors healthy with the green. In addition, British author Colin Spencer wrote that the Romans treated insanity with watercress and vinegar. Whether watercress is mind-steadying or not, making the soup is. A classic in the French and British repertoire, it is indeed a spring tonic.

Choose bright green watercress without any yellow leaves or slippery stems, and use within a day or two. Watercress does not stay fresh for very long.

2 bunches watercress

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 large spring onion, thinly sliced (about 1 1/2 cups) (not scallions, see photo above)

2 potatoes (1 pound) peeled, halved and thinly sliced (about 3 cups)

5 cups vegetable stock, chicken stock or water

Salt and pepper to taste

Unsweetened whipped cream or crème fraiche, for garnish

Chives, chopped, for garnish

1. Trim and discard 1 inch of the thick stems from the bottom of each watercress bunch. Rinse well, and cut across the branches to make 3-inch pieces.

2. Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onions, and cook gently for 2 to 3 minutes, or until they are soft but not brown. Add the potatoes, watercress, and stock. Bring to a boil. Decrease the heat to a simmer and add salt and pepper to taste. Simmer for 15 to 18 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.

3. Fill a blender jar with about half the soup solids and half the liquid. Cover the top of the blender with a folded dishtowel, and start blending on low speed. Increase the speed slowly, and puree until smooth. Pour into a clean pot and repeat with remaining soup. Taste and adjust the salt and pepper. Reheat before serving. Garnish each bowl with a spoonful of unsweetened whipped cream or crème fraiche, and sprinkle with chopped chives.

Posted on April 8, 2012 and filed under Soups, Spring food.

It’s Sunday night. Do you know what’s in your refrigerator? (Recipe for vegetable a tart)

The leisurely family meal around our house on Sunday is more likely to be a breakfast affair than a Sunday supper. Though theoretically I love the idea of Sunday suppers, they haven’t materialized recently. Sunday breakfast , on the other hand, makes a lot more sense. Late risers of the household—Man of the House and College Boy, who may often be at home—are only too happy to gather ‘round the kitchen for a good ol’ bacon and egg feast. Sometimes it’s French toast, sometimes it’s waffles, sometimes it’s pancakes, but the common theme is that this family meal happens more towards the middle of the day than at the end and it has a lazy air about it. Homework, Sunday night travel, and various activities of a teenager gradually eroded our Sunday evening meal. So Sunday has become a good day to cobble something together from the freezer or the leftover shelf in the refrigerator

My mom began designating Sunday nights as ‘forage-and-fend for yourselves night’ once her children were grown, and I have adopted the same spirit of casualness without an actual duplication of her ritual. To be honest, I agree with Mom. I like to extend the laid back feeling of the day into the evening. I also hate waste. (I got that from Mom, too. She lived through the Great Depression.)

Speaking of which, have you noticed we’re still in a recession? I don’t know about you, but aside from my inherited and now ingrained dislike for wasting food, I don’t much like watching dollars go down the drain either. In her book Kitchen Counter Cooking School, Kathleen Flinn reports on how much people throw away. She experimented on herself by putting a sticky note on everything she bought and then adding it up when she tossed it. Not a pretty picture. I don’t have the patience for that exercise, but I sure can do the math in my head as I shove food down the disposal or throw it into the compost. Not only are there sad pieces of squishy lettuce in that pile, but also food that I might have put time into preparing. Double snap!

Remember I mentioned the leftover shelf in my fridge? Let’s talk about that. Do you have a place you stash things that need to be used pronto? I put mine front and center. I grew tired of throwing out all the weary looking stuff from the back of the refrigerator in one big purge before trash day. Instead I put them where I can see them, and when I want to procrastinate a trip to the market, I take a good look at what’s on that shelf and try to figure out what to do with it. That’s when knowing how to cook really comes in handy. I may incorporate bits and pieces from that shelf throughout the week in different meals, but on Sundays, I become more interested in using what is there, because I will probably shop within a few days and I’d like to start fresh.

So here’s what I found last week:

A hunk of goat cheese

A red pepper that was looking peaked

A few forlorn cherry tomatoes

Watercress that had seen better days

A lonely leek

A little cream from a recipe test that I know I won’t use for anything

End-of-the-road half-bunch of parsley

What to do? I could have made a stir-fry. Or an omelet. Or a vegetable “medley” to serve with some roast chicken. But wait, I didn’t have, and was not about to schlep to get, a chicken to roast. So, one route to take was to make a vegetable tart. I did have enough usable greens to make a decent salad, so it was a pretty obvious choice. What would you have done? Any suggestions?

Vegetable tart with goat cheese, peppers, and watercress

Makes 1 9-inch tart

Once upon a time a tart was called a quiche and the nomenclature was so overused that it became exhausted and buried itself in the retro food cemetery. But put the filling in a pretty tart pan and you have something to be excited about. Truth be told, just put it in a pie pan if you haven’t a tart pan—it’s all good. (And if you want to make it really easy, buy some prepared all-butter pie dough, no funny stuff.) You could use just about any leftover vegetable: cooked broccoli, asparagus, potatoes, even green beans. The vegetables should be cooked first, since they will not soften in the oven once they are combined with the tart filling.

Think through your choices—Asian flavors and goat cheese might not work very well. The idea is to use leftovers to create a whole greater (and better than) the sum of its parts, so choose discriminately. For example, the ginger root with mold on one end could still be trimmed and used, but it would not be compatible with the other ingredients here.

The base of the tart—that which binds it together—is eggs and cream or milk: for a 9-inch tart pan, use 3 eggs to 1 cup milk or cream. Whisk the eggs, then add the cream, salt, pepper, and herbs. Stir in the cheese (grated or in chunks if it is soft) and the cooked vegetables. Spoon the solid ingredients into the tart first, then pour the liquid over them, holding back a little. Don’t over-stuff the tart. If there is too much liquid, don’t use all of it (you will only waste a few tablespoons.)

For the tart dough

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

3 1/2 ounces (7 tablespoons) cold, unsalted butter, cut in thin slices

1 egg, beaten

1. Combine the all-purpose flour, whole wheat pastry flour, salt, and butter in a food processor fitted with the metal blade. Pulse several times until the butter is in small

baby-pea size pieces. Add the egg and pulse until the dough almost forms a ball. If it seems dry, add some cold water, 1 teaspoon at a time.

2. Empty the dough onto the countertop and press it into a round, flat disk. Wrap it in plastic and refrigerate for 20 to 30 minutes to allow the flour to absorb the liquid.

3. Remove the dough from the fridge. If you have made it several hours ahead of time, let it rest and soften at room temperature for about 15 minutes. Roll the dough into an 11-inch circle. Fit it into the pie pan, gently coaxing it into the corners of the pan without stretching it. Place the tart in the refrigerator and chill for 15 to 20 minutes.

For the tart filling

1 tablespoon butter

White part of 1 leek, thinly sliced (save tough green part in the freezer to use in stock)

1 handful of cherry tomatoes, halved

1 bunch watercress, thick stems removed

1 red pepper, roasted, peeled and sliced (see tutorial below)

3 eggs

1 cup milk or cream

1/2 teaspoon salt

Generous grindings of black pepper

1 handful of chopped parsley

3 ounces (85g) goat cheese, broken into pieces

1 9-inch tart pan lined with pastry (home made or store-bought)

1. Adjust an oven rack to the middle position. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the leeks and tomatoes, and cook for 4 to 5 minutes, or until soft. Stir in the watercress, and cook for 3 minutes, or until wilted. Stir in the roasted pepper. Set aside to cool for a few minutes.

3. Whisk the eggs in a bowl until yolks and whites are combined. Whisk in the cream, salt, pepper and parsley. Stir in the cheese and vegetables. With a slotted spoon, fill the tart with the solid ingredients, including the cheese. Pour the liquid over them until the tart is full but not brimming. Set the tart pan on a baking sheet, and bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until set (toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.)

4. Remove tart from the oven and set on a rack to cool for about 10 minutes. Remove the tart rim and slice into serving wedges.

Quick tip: To remove the rim of a tart or cake pan, set the bottom of the pan on top of a large can of tomatoes and release the rim. If the dough sticks to the edges, gently insert a knife in the sticky places. Voila!

Tutorial: How to roast a pepper

The point of roasting a pepper is to remove its tough skin and soften it. The bonus is a lovely charred flavor. You can roast it outside on a grill, on the flame of a gas burner, or in the oven under the broiler. The broiler method may be the most convenient any time of year.

To roast a pepper over a flame, simply set it on the burner and turn it with tongs until the skin is completely black and blistered all over. The same method applies to a charcoal or gas grill.

To roast under the broiler, halve the pepper and remove the seeds. Set the halves with the skin side up on a baking sheet and brush with a little olive oil. Set the baking sheet about 4 inches from the broiler element and broil for 3 to 5 minutes. Keep an eye on it and move the pan often if necessary. When the pepper is black all over (notice how it is blistered on the top pepper) remove it from the oven. You will notice, too how the flesh beneath the skin is not black at all.

While the pepper is still hot, place it in a bowl and cover the bowl with a plate. Let it cool in the bowl for a few minutes. The steam helps release the skin from the flesh. 

Pull off the skin. Don't rinse the pepper under water, but rinse your hands if bits of pepper stick to them. Water will only wash away the flavor; a little bit of charred pepper is a good thing.

The most important meal of the day: yogurt parfaits with raspberry plum spoon fruit

Breakfast is my favorite meal. Why? Because today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Oh boy.

Really, though. What else you got? Yesterday: That ship has sailed. Tomorrow: The future takes care of itself. Today: start with breakfast and watch it unfold. 

The idea of spoon fruits or spoon sweets comes from a Greek tradition. According to Vefa’s Kitchen, hosts serve spoon sweets—fruits preserved in sugar or honey and served on a small spoon on a pretty plate accompanied by a glass of water—to welcome guests into their homes. They usually are not as thick or cooked as long as preserves, and range from a simple combination of almonds and honey, to sour cherries in syrup, figs, kumquats, grapes, oranges, rose petals and even carrots, even eggplant, cooked with sugar or honey to make them sweet.

With this concept in mind, you can create practically any combination, sweetened to your taste, and in small quantities. There is no need to haul out the preserving pan. Just simmer a little fruit with sugar, water and flavorings. Voila! A special breakfast treat. Serve it over Greek yogurt (of course) or with pancakes or waffles. The rest of your life doesn’t have to be as complicated as it was yesterday.

Nothing happens until this happens.

Steel cut oats with honey and butter

Raspberry plum spoon fruit (Makes about 1 cup)

2 purple plums, cut into 1-inch pieces

1/2 cup fresh raspberries (plus more for garnish if you like)

1 to 2 tablespoons blond cane sugar, to taste

2 tablespoons water

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1. Combine the plums, raspberries, sugar and water in a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes, or until plums have released their juices and are soft. Stir in the vanilla. Pour into a bowl and serve when cool.

Addendum: Steel cut oats are my favorite, and so good for you. If you want to know why, check this out. If you want to know how, check this out. For a savory version, Jody and Ken make theirs into a substantial meal, a breakfast that can take you through any day. You can cut down on time by making a big batch, freezing portions, and heating in the microwave. Or do as I do when I'm eating oatmeal almost every day, just stash them in the fridge and reheat. They keep 4 or 5 days.

Posted on March 8, 2012 and filed under Breakfast, Beans and Grains.