Fried Artichoke and Mushroom Panini with Garlic Caper Mayo (Bill Clinton:Vegan. . . Are pigs flying?)

We had "panini night" three nights in a row last week. Not the SAME panini every night--I at least changed it up a bit. This one smothered in artichokes was the fave. I added some roasted red pepper, fresh spinach leaves and vegan cheese, with a few thinly sliced red onions, swiped on both sides with this amazing garlic caper mayo, then put them on the stove top grill with my 10" cast iron skillet on top to press--to get the grill marks you see (no, I do not own a panini press--you don't need one to make a panini, okay?!).

Unfortunately, I've reached somewhat of a burnout on all things "kitchen". I'm not saying I don't love cooking still, but you have to realize, we do not eat out. . . like EVER. (Near death experience with food borne illness, vegan, picky, hate crowds, not real fond of people touching my food. . . I could go on.) So this leaves 365 days of meal planning a year for me. I could accumulate every single cookbook ever written--all I'd do is stare blankly at them in a haze when this ailment strikes. I could have the best kitchen, all the latest gadgets and geeked-out foodie appliances, but when the, I'm so sick of cooking I could (you fill in the blank) arrives, there is a hopelessness that accompanies my withdrawl. I am in a despair over it, I really am.

Pumpkin Ginger-Spiced Cupcakes with Cinnamon Buttercream Frosting (And. . . Water Aerobics for The Pale)

I'd like to be the official spokeswoman for pumpkin. Forget the milk ads with mustache-laden celebs, let's start a campaign for pumpkin people! Any time I whip up a pumpkin creation--like these cupcakes, I find they have a very short stay in my kitchen. Remember last fall there was somewhat of a pumpkin shortage. I mean, can you imagine fall without pumpkins? Oh the horror! I've been buying up cans of pumpkin like, well, like a person with a pumpkin hoarding problem. But I will be using every single bit of it!

Ginger Miso Soba Noodle Soup (Great paired with Jonathan Franzen's new novel "Freedom".)

Taking measures to cure yourself with soup is nothing new. I remember the cans and cans of Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup I would be forced to sip from as I lay sick in bed being tended to by my mother. That was about the extent of her capability to "help" her sick kid. (This is the same mother who left me writhing in pain when I told her I think I broke my arm and said, Here, take two aspirin, I'm sure you'll be fine--I can't worry about this now, I have a meeting to go to!. . . two hours later after her "meeting" was over, finally capitulated, taking me in for x-rays only to discover that my arm was indeed broken--a clean split--suddenly felt like the Mother-of-The-Year award would not be graced upon her lovely soul.) Mom, if you are up there, I finally think I can forgive you for that. But only maybe.

Pear Chutney with Black Lentils (Vegan Indian Cooking for The Uninitiated)

"Indian Food Night" required an international food store visit, every single kitchen appliance I owned and an entire day and one backache to complete. . . but we loved it nonetheless. How can a country so entirely filled with amazing cooks expect an American (Midwestern and vegan, no less) to fully embrace and challenge herself with the necessary prowess to cook luscious Indian meals with flavor AND texture (because for us, the texture is always a challenge) and do it more than say, once or twice every month. . . maybe? No matter how easy the cooking channels make it seem or how breezy it looks to make naan or dahls or whatever Indian--the truth of the matter is, I now more fully appreciate the 30-Minute meals made famous by one food network star! (Where's the 30-minute cookbook for Indian cooking?)

Simple Shortbread Cookie (A Visit to The Farm: Reconnecting and Remembering)

I have a deep fondness for shortbread cookies. This may have something to do with the fact that there were not many homemade cookies in our house growing up. (Except for my grandmother's cookies at Christmas. Once in a great while my mom would churn out a batch of her Mexican Wedding Cakes and since these happened to be very much in the shortbread genre, I think my shortbread fondness grew from here.) I also remember shortbread "packaged" types making an appearance now and then. When they were around, a lot of cookie cravings were solved digging into the stale packages of grocery brand cookies left on top of the fridge--barely sealed. Somehow this made them better--stale shortbreads. Go figure.

Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day (I LOVE this bread cookbook. . . love it!)

When I smell bread baking I am happy. If I could tuck the aroma of baked bread into my purse and carry it around with me wherever I go, I would. It would calm my nerves in long lines, traffic and in uncomfortable "large crowd" events. The funny thing is, I don't have a single memory of my mother baking bread. We had Wonder Bread and powdered donuts (by the plastic sleeve) in our house growing up. It's a miracle that I have not turned into a giant walking billboard for diabetes or heart disease given our food options. I think the baking I do today and all of its many iterations means much more to me because I have had to teach myself everything I know about the craft. Bread baking especially. To a novice bread baking person like myself--just the idea of having a critical component as "yeast" involved left me intimidated and in the dark for years. And I have absolutely no science savvy (that would be Mr. Thyme's expertise as he is a trained scientist)--I am trained in words and stories.

Not all of my bread baking moments have been happy. Even after slogging through the Peter Reinhart book, The Bread Baker's Apprentice, I still had many "yeasty" concerns. Don't get me wrong, I love his cookbook, but come on--I am not much of a planner as far as my "bread" cravings go--so his two day fermentation (albeit quite good for the palate) left me less inclined to open his cookbook--I really hate to admit this because I know there are bread aficinados out there who may banish me from the bread world for stating this.

Hiking the Tallest Mountain in Missouri: Tom Sauk Mountain (Fear of Heights. . . Now?! At Almost Fifty?!)

We could not have asked for a better weekend here in St. Louis. We are all just delirious with joy. We finally cought a break. Temps this weekend were in the seventies and then low eighties. I don't think a photo can really capture what it was like. But I'll try. Here's the happy hikers. Mr. Thyme and I decided to head out and enjoy the almost-too-good-to-be-true seventy degree holiday weekend weather. Well, let me be honest, "I" begged: Please, please can we go for a hike? I had the backpacks, fanny packs and all reserved food stores made and ready to go--how could he deny me my day? As any loving husband would, he promptly helped load the car and we were headed out.

I ordered this wonderful little hiking companion book: 60 Hikes within 60 Miles--the St. Louis edition. Hard to believe the middle of the country could provide such an array of hiking options. I am constantly amazed by the topography of our state. Amazed even more when I find myself exploring some of it first hand.

Vegan Bran Muffins (Picnic Packers. . . And Breakfast, Too!)

Fresh from the oven--waiting for their Earth Balance moment!

Next day. . . early morning! Still yummy!

I had been craving old time favorite bran muffins from so long ago, they hadn't yet passed their vegan test (i.e., re-baked, minus eggs, minus dairy. . . the usual stuff). I am proud to announce this vegan muffin is now officially welcomed back! What made this muffin so special is that I first had it when I used to run with two gentlemen in the wee hours of the morning several years back (in my Almost Forty, Corporate Gig phase). I was the only girl joining these two (quite older dudes)--meeting three times a week at 5:30 a.m. at the city YMCA. We'd occasionally have a "treat day" whereby everyone from our Morning Cult would show up, nourishment in hand to be shared with all. I usually brought my pumpkin bread (which is to die for and which I will eventually get around to sharing). Uh, and in case you were wondering, No, I do NOT get up and run at 5:30 EVER now. If I'm awake at six or earlier--it's a hormone issue, not because I want to be up.

Deep Dish Pizza (Test: Does It Pass The Breakfast Challenge? Answer: Yes!)

Cold pizza for breakfast is one of seven wonders of the world in my opinion.

I'll take a good, homemade pizza over a frozen box of cardboard any day. I think the last time I had a frozen pizza was over five years ago. I am in constant search for THE pizza dough like I search for THE chocolate chip cookie recipe. A deep dish pizza dough has to have crunch on the outside, chewy on the inside and has a bit of a "sour" bite in your mouth after. Thin or thick crust--the be all, end all to fine pizza is the crust.
 
Here's what doesn't work for pizza dough for me: soft dough after baking, drooping crust allowing all the hard work of "dressing" the pizza up fall into a clump on the center of a plate. Nothing is worse than staring at a naked pizza dough! Toppings are important, but I'm pretty traditional in my wants as far as that goes--sausage, onion, pepper, red sauce. What really takes a good pizza to great is how much raving goes on not the evening it is served hot from the oven--but the next day as breakfast!
 

Having been raised just outside of Chicago, I was smitten with the "deep dish" variety of pizza from an early age. If you have a food memory this profound, your quest for perfection will lead you down many paths in replication attempts--at least that's true for me.

Raspberry Chocolate Chip Buckle (Weekend Full of "Framily", Cookbooks, Sewing, Meeting Sophie, Etc.)

I am a pushover when it comes to anything remotely in the "coffee cake, crumb cake, buckle, tea cake" category. Just say cinnamon crumbles and I fall in love instantly. If you've got a few minutes to bake today, make this "raspberry chocolate chip buckle/cobbler", now! This recipe didn't start out as a raspberry chocolate chip kind--I really wanted a blueberry buckle. With no blueberries in the house, I settled for raspberries--then the chocolate chips make an appearance, too. To me, this version is possibly better than the blueberry version. The jury is out on that and I'll let you know when I make the other. I'd say this cake is in the same camp as the coffee cake--but would be pulling double duty in this house as I wanted something with just a hint of chocolate, some fruit (for sure) and that oh-so-delightful cinnamon crumb topping. (My favorite part, personally.) With the summer winding down, it makes perfect sense to dive into the last vestiges of ripe fruit in the seemingly little time we have left. Hard to believe our summer fling will be over soon--not soon enough for me, thank you very much. This treat will take you through the week, and even steps in nicely as dessert duty if you warm it slightly and top it off with some vegan vanilla ice cream. My buckle adaptation is from one of the best cookbooks ever published: The King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking cookbook. I turned their Blueberry Buckle into this winner, making the following changes--vegan unsalted margerine sticks, Ener-G Egg Replacer for eggs, a bit of nutmeg in the crumble--plus I added a bit of almond extract in the batter, too. I used frozen raspberries--two cups, and 1/3 cup of mini chocolate chips--folding in at the end of the mixing of the batter because to "overmix" this sort of cake treat would be bad karma.  

Right after we dug in. This is truly a sublime any-time-of-year treat.

Vegan Blackberry Chocolate Chunk Ice Cream (Me And Ice Cream Go Way Back)

Our house requires a pint of ice cream--minimally--for proper functioning. If there is no cake, there is ice cream. If there are no cookies, there is ice cream. I have always had a special relationship with ice cream. Recently hubby and I had been on a tear with our ice cream needs. Like needing it every. single. night. This hateful summer weather had taken its toll on us both. It's much nicer today--like in the upper eighties. . . I know, not resort weather yet, but because the entire Midwest has been on the brink of losing it--we'll take it--no complaints from this girl.

My first job EVER was working for Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop. The thirty-one flavor center of the universe was my life when I was a wee fifteen years old. I got hired by sheer luck and happenstance. My mom refused to let me take myself down the road to the Sonic Drive-In for my first job as one of my best friends had done. No daughter of hers was sporting a short skirt, roller skates and delivering food at a drive-up window joint. Blah. Blah. Blah. She had a total hissy fit over the very thought. (To this day, I am still sort of steamed about it because my friend that got a job there totally loved it and I was always and forever jealous of the fact that she got to roller skate at work while I got tennis elbow scooping hard, VERY hard ice cream!) So, when I told Mommy Dearest I had an option at BR--wearing, NOT a skirt and roller skates, but rather a cute pink baseball cap and polyseter pink and striped ice-creamy-colored top with brown polyester pants--life got much better. I got hired to scoop ice cream. I was paid $2.50 an hour. Did I just "date" myself there? So to say that I have a "special relationship" with ice cream, well, you can see, I really do. 

Savory Wheat & Cornmeal Flatbread or "Tikkar" (Where Dinner Became The Flatbread)

Sometimes dinner dictates the bread. Pasta: Ciabatta. Sandwich: Sourdough. But sometimes the bread dictates the dinner--enter flatbread love. I was covered in flour, smelling of garlic, ginger and onions, rolling pin working--it was pure kitchen heaven. I could have made a meal of this bread on its own. Easily. But then I got busy making an entree decision, finally settling on a red and brown lentil curried stew with a cucumber salad to accompany. (We all know that the cucumber was not a problem because I have the mutant cucumber plant in my garden--ten paces out the back door with scissors in hand and salad was done!).

You simply must try this. It's a fast meal. . .  sort of. (I will admit to using my pressure cooker to crank out the lentil stew in fifteen minutes in what might have taken over forty-five minutes sans the pressure cooker.) It bears repeating: my pressure cooker rocks.