Gluten-Free Blueberry Scones

As I sit here in a cafe's sidewalk seating section with the warm sun beaming at my back, birds happily chirping, people walking along in shorts and skirts, and my iced coffee dripping with condensation, I can’t help but ignore the fact that apparently it’s the first day of fall. I’m sorry, what?

Per usual the season has flown by too quickly. I spent my last few weeks of summer completely wrapped up in my amazing new job (filed directly under a-great-problem-to-have) and I let this space wander. Now all of a sudden it’s fall and I’ve got a pile of summer recipes that are just too summery to post.

However, this year more than ever I’ve realized that summer “ain’t over ‘til it’s over” (R.I.P Yogi <3) and that means I’ve been bringing home blueberries by the quartful  from the farmers' market and will continue to do so until I can’t anymore. That also translates to --- I have too many blueberries in my fridge to be useful right now. But it also means, I have absolutely ZERO qualms telling you to make these blueberry scones right this second while blueberries are still in their prime.

These scones are perfectly moist and crumbly at the same time a.k.a. perfect scone texture. They’re bursting with berries and are gluten free, but full of flavor. If I had turbinado sugar on hand, I would have sprinkled that on top for a crisp, shattering top, but instead I lightly drizzled them with a glaze that also did the job. Either way, you will get a perfect scone. Along with the perfect way to savor the very last drops of summer.

At the very least, you can take comfort in the fact it’s no longer too hot to turn on the oven, so you really have no excuse.

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Blueberry Scones

adapted from this Smitten Kitchen recipe and this Food52 recipe

Ingredients:

1 cup white rice flour

1 cup brown rice flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

¾ teaspoon salt

1 cup buttermilk, cold

3 tablespoons maple syrup

1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

1 cup blueberries

1 egg beaten or few tablespoons heavy cream for washing the tops of the scones

Optional topping:

Glaze

2 tablespoons of heavy cream

¼ cup organic powdered sugar

or

2 tablespoons turbinado sugar for sprinkling

Directions:

Heat oven to 425 degrees.

Line a large sheet pan with parchment paper or a silicon mat.

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, baking powder, and salt.

In another large vessel mix together buttermilk, maple syrup, egg, and vanilla.

Next cut the cold butter into the flour mixture and using your fingers mush the butter into the flour. The mixture should become like wet sand. At most the butter should be about the size of peas. Quickly add the blueberries to this mixture and gently toss until they are evenly distributed.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry and with a fork gently fold the wet into the dry. Mix until the batter just comes together.

Dump the dough onto a well floured surface and form gently into a disk and pat down until it’s about one inch thick.

Using a large knife or bench scraper cut the disk into eight equal sized wedges.

Transfer wedges to the prepared sheet pan and space at least 1 inch apart. Brush the tops with beaten egg or heavy cream.

Bake for about 20 to 25 minutes or until the tops are a golden brown.

For the optional glaze: whisk cream and powdered sugar together until a smooth glaze comes together. Let the scones cool just slightly before drizzling glaze over the tops. Or before baking, sprinkle tops with raw turbinado sugar.

Yield: 8 scones

Sour Cherry Oat Crumble Muffins

I spent the first three weeks of sour cherry season walking right on by them. Part of it was the $12 a box price tag. The other part was that I had no clue what I would do with them, so I couldn’t justify the $12 a box price tag.

But I finally succumbed and doled out a hefty portion of my market budget for a quart or two. Coming out on the other side of it, though, I can say it was worth it. Also as the season has lingered on the price did come down a bit.

After the cherries themselves convinced me to make some compote out of them, I tasted it and was like I’m eating exactly what I love about cherry pie. Okay, I get it. I get what the big deal is. Then it was only a matter of figuring out what to put it in that wasn’t cherry pie. Because, as I’ve already embarrassingly admitted, I don’t really like pie. 

I know...I know.

So first, these popsicles happened. But I was left with a good amount of compote still to use. Which was not really a problem. I could have left well enough alone and just had a half pint jar of it in my fridge for a few weeks to come -- to swipe on toast or swirl into yogurt or top ice cream with. What I did though, was swirl it into some muffin batter and then covered that with a crumble, because, it just made sense at the time.

Barely sweet gluten free batter, swirled with puckery sour cherry compote, topped with buttery sweet oat crumble was definitely a good decision. Let me know if you think so too...

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Sour Cherry Oat Muffins

Adapted from this Canelle et Vanille recipe

Ingredients:

Oat Crumble:

1 cup old fashioned oats (gluten free if needed)

¼ cup coconut palm sugar (or brown sugar)

¼ cup coconut flour

pinch of salt

3 tablespoons butter

Muffins:

3 eggs

½ cup raw sugar

1 cup full fat greek or other yogurt

½ cup melted butter

1 teaspoon almond extract

1 cup brown rice flour

½ cup millet flour

2 tablespoons tapioca starch

1 tablespoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup cherry compote (recipe here)

Directions:

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

In a medium sized bowl combine oats, coconut palm sugar, coconut flour, and salt. Cut the cold butter into the crumble mix and mush together with your fingers or a pastry cutter until butter is mixed into the oat mixture well. It should clump if you press it together in your hands. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, sugar, yogurt, melted butter,  and extract to combine well. Add flours, tapioca starch, baking powder, and salt and whisk well to combine.

Line a muffin tin with cupcake liners. Fill each wrapper about three quarters of the way with batter. Next dollop about 1 tablespoon of cherry compote onto the batter of each muffin. Take a tooth pick or other type of skewer and artfully drag the compote throughout each muffin to create swirls.

Lastly sprinkle a little bit of oat crumble on top of each muffin.

Bake in oven for about 20 to 25 minutes until they are golden brown and a cake tester comes out clean.

Note: You might have oat crumble leftover if you don’t use it all on top of the muffins. Simply line a sheet pan with some parchment paper and spread the crumble out on it. Bake it in a 350 degree oven for about 10 to 15 minutes or until golden and toasty. Once cooled, place in an airtight container and use on yogurt or ice cream like you would a granola.

Makes 1 dozen muffins.

Sour Cherry Almond Yogurt Popsicles

I want to love pie. I really, truly, desperately do want to love pie.

I appreciate pie. I appreciate pie in the sense that I know how much blood, sweat, and tears usually go into making pie. That, and they are just so pretty. I love the aesthetics of pie. The crinkled edges, the handiwork of the lattice, the snappy looking sugary top. Give me a piece of pie and I will fawn over it like it just won the county prize at the fair.

Expect me to eat that prize winning slice and I will proceed to scoop out and only eat what’s inside the pie. So what I really love is the fruit. That warm, syrupy, drippy fruit.

So when faced with a quart or two of perfectly perfect bright red sour cherries and not even one inkling need to make pie, what’s a girl to do? Of course I only bought the cherries because what kind of seasonal blogger would I be if I didn’t. I had a stare down with my quart of cherries and eventually they convinced me to just throw them into a saucepan with some sugar and almond extract, because when in doubt, make compote.

Consequently I ended up with a bunch of warm, syrupy, drippy fruit which is exactly what I like. Those saucy cherries then talked me into swirling them into a couple things, including these yogurt popsicles, but none of them pie.

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Sour Cherry Almond Yogurt Popsicles

Ingredients:

Cherry compote:

1 quart sour cherries (approximately 2 pounds), pitted

⅓ cup raw sugar or other sweetener

juice of half a lemon

1 teaspoon almond extract

1 teaspoon tapioca starch (or cornstarch)

Yogurt Base:

1 cup plain greek yogurt

½ cup whole milk

2 tablespoons honey

1 teaspoon almond extract

Almond crust (optional):

½ cup roughly chopped sliced lightly toasted almonds

Directions:

In a 2-quart saucepan over medium to low heat, bring cherries, raw sugar, and lemon juice to a simmer. Cook for about 25 minutes until cherries have broken down and released their juices. When they’ve reached the correct consistency, stir in the almond extract. Lastly scoop about a ¼ cup of juice from pot into a small dish. Whisk the starch into this juice and once combined quickly add back to the cherry pot. Stir well to incorporate. Once the juice has thickened into a syrup, remove from heat and let cool.

Once cooled, blitz briefly in a food processor or blender until mostly but not fully pureed. A few chunks of cherry are welcomed.

While the compote is cooling, get the yogurt base ready. In a large bowl, whisk yogurt, milk, honey and almond extract until smooth. Keep chilled until compote is cooled.

To assemble pops: pour about an inch of yogurt base into each of six pop molds. Next layer in one heaping tablespoon of cherry compote into each. Finish each with another layer of yogurt base, leaving about ¼ inch at the top of each mold to accommodate for expansion. Next take a popsicle stick and artfully drag the cherry compote through the yogurt mix of each popsicle mold. You should be able to create some pretty swirl action for each pop.

Get your popsicle mold ready for the freezer by placing on covers, adding popsicle sticks, etc.
 

Freeze for 4 to 5 hours or until fully frozen. Run under warm water to loosen.

If desired, let the pops begin to melt just slightly, and then roll in chopped almond slices to coat. Enjoy right away or return to freezer to be enjoyed at a later time.

Note: You will have compote leftover. I promise that having left over cherry compote is not a problem. I’ve been swirling it into plain yogurt for a sweet snack. Swiped on some toast, waffles, or pancakes would be great. I have no doubt that spooning it over vanilla ice cream would be divine. This cake would welcome the addition.

Makes six 8-ounce popsicles.

Foraged Berry Butter Sauce

There was a day, deep, deep in January when it was probably too cold to be outside and all the vegetables were likely frostbitten and I was at the farmers’ market anyways. I believe I’ve told you about this before, but I will set the scene once again for the sake of this recipe’s story.

I was bundled up like it was the arctic, which I will maintain that New York basically is in the winter. The weary vegetables I had in my bag were few and mostly neutral in color. There were no bright reds, or deep blues, or vivid greens of summer. The sun was shining and it was bright, but only because of the reflection off the three feet of snow on the ground from the day before's storm. But still, I was there, a winter warrior.

Then I stumbled across the cozy stand that is Beth’s Farm Kitchen. Steam rose from a giant pot of soup. Grilled cheese with jam sizzled on a skillet. All of it was too enticing to pass up. So I sidled on over and tried pretty much every type of jam they had. Because, me.

Black Raspberry Jam, though, is where it all ended. The black raspberry brought me instantaneously back to mid-July summers in Connecticut.

This is where we go back even further, back to dreamy Connecticut childhood times where I would trot around barefoot (bee stings be damned) with a colander or sometimes just my hands and pick wild black raspberries and gooseberries from all over my yard. If I hadn’t eaten all of the ones I had picked, I’d bring them to my mother, who would make a simple yellow cake that she doesn’t even have a recipe written down for. Then she would take half a stick of ice cold salted butter and mash it up with a touch of sugar and the black raspberries I had brought her, just like her mother did before her. Yes, you read that right, cold butter. Stay with me.

She would then pour this berry butter sauce all over the fresh out-the-oven cake and I mean, it’s just the epitome of summer. Weird sounding it may be, a Mama Lunetta summer classic it is. It’s magical; butter just has a way of doing that to things. You will understand its sorcery when you try it, which I have to insist that you do. 

Just trust me.

Early Monday morning this past visit home, I was hurriedly packing to make the train back to the city and true to my mother’s nature, she went around the yard and picked a fresh batch of berries and tucked them into one of my bags when I wasn’t looking. I found them when I got to work and immediately knew their destiny...

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Foraged Berry Butter Sauce

Ingredients:

1 heaping cup of wild black raspberries

2 to 3 tablespoons raw sugar (or other sweetener)

4 tablespoons cold salted butter

Directions:

In a medium sized bowl, mash together the berries, sugar, and the cold butter. It’s best to use something like a pastry cutter to potato masher.

Mash until the berries have become soupy and mostly smashed and butter is dispersed throughout in very tiny chunks.

Pour over plain white cake. Or waffles. Or pancakes. But make sure to keep cold until using and then pour over something warm. That’s where the magic happens.

I haven’t ever done it with other types of berries, but this combination won’t be amiss with other components --- red raspberries or blackberries would fair well with more sugar, strawberries would be delicious, blueberries would be great.

The pancakes from the pictures are just these pancakes sans strawberries.

Makes about 1 cup of cold butter berry sauce.

Strawberry Cornmeal Pancakes

Once upon a time I went to film school. I spent four years studying the art of filmmaking and earning a rather questionable bachelor’s degree since our studio classes took extreme precedence over our regular humanities courses. Among the cast of characters I met along the way, my production professor was definitely the most memorable in the best way.

He had an enviable handlebar mustache, an unruly mop of charcoal grey hair, and was the type to wear sunglasses at night. He had a thick eastern European accent and was a goldmine of amazing yet basically untranslatable idioms. One of his classics was not to “confuse frogs with grandmothers” followed by “it rhymes in my language”. It tended to leave the majority of our class scratching our heads as he usually applied it any situation he felt it called for. I had an affinity for his sayings that had to do with food, for now obvious reasons. He always compared filmmaking to making soup. When he wanted you to think about something or work on something a little longer he would say, “let it simmer”. When adding to the conversation, he would “add bacon to the pan” but not because he liked bacon, but because “I just like the sizzle”.

Since starting this weird food writing journey, besides a brilliant piece of editing advice (“use the axe, not the tweezers”), the line I think of most happens to be about pancakes. When we were in film school, he was essentially applying it to first drafts of the screenplays, first takes of the shoot, first editing passes of the film. But now in my second life, I am applying his advice in the most literal manner.

Here’s what you need to know, and this is some deep shit, so get ready. It can be applied literally and figuratively as I’ve already pointed out. But basically, remember when making pancakes or anything else --- that “the first pancake is always bad”.

Oh man, it’s like the truest thing anyone has ever said. Legitimately changed my life. I think of it every.single.time. I make pancakes and never feel bad when the first one is terrible. Even these. Although I do have to say, practice can make perfect. I tend to over butter the first time around which kind of deep-frys the pancake. Sounds good in theory but that’s not what makes a perfect pancake. Low heat is important; the key to pancakes is patience. If the pan is too hot, the outside and the butter will burn, but the inside will be raw. So remember --- lower heat than you think, less butter than you think, more time than you think along with the most patience. And this, the best advice of all, remember that “the first pancake is always bad”.

Now just because I have no idea how to segue into this, can I let you in on a little secret? Not only are these pancakes so seasonal, made from mostly local ingredients, quite possibly organic and totally gluten free --- they’re also birthday pancakes. June 29th was sizzle & sass kitchen’s first birthday. Since my first post, every day behind the stove, the camera, and the keyboard in the pursuit of this site has never felt more right. This project has turned into a full-on passion and there’s really nothing I’d rather do with my days. Thank you to those of you who take the time to read these posts. Here’s to many more! Let’s toast with these pancakes.

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Strawberry Cornmeal Pancakes

adapted from this smitten kitchen recipe

Ingredients:

¾ cup rice flour

¾ cup fresh milled organic fine ground corn flour

½ teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon baking powder

1 cup buttermilk

2 tablespoons maple syrup or honey

2 eggs

3 tablespoons melted butter (plus extra for greasing griddle)

1 cup roughly chopped strawberries

Directions:

Heat oven to 200 degrees.

In a large bowl, mix rice flour, corn flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder.

In a second bowl, whisk together buttermilk, maple syrup, and the two eggs. Lastly, whisk in the melted butter. Switch to a wooden spoon and gently stir in the strawberries.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry and using the wooden spoon, gently fold the batter until it just comes together.

Heat a skillet over low to medium heat. Melt just enough butter to lightly coat the skillet. Using a ¼ cup measure, scoop a ¼ cup of batter onto the skillet. The batter is a bit thicker and doesn’t spread as easy so I found that I needed to flatten the batter a bit into a pancake with my fingers. Let it cook on the first side for about two minutes, until golden brown and cooked through. Flip and cook until golden on the second side. Place in a 200 degree oven to keep warm, if desired. Continue with remaining batter.

Serve with whipped cream and maybe rhubarb sauce if you want to be annoyingly seasonal or plain ole’ maple syrup or overkill it with some homemade strawberry jam like I did the second these pictures were done.

Makes about 8 four-inch pancakes. If you're really awesome you could probably get 10. Serves 4 to 5.

Rhubarb Swirl Cake

I took several lessons straight to heart as a young Connecticut country kid. One was that foraging for random things in the woods was a great way to get poison ivy on your hands (oh the misery). And that running around barefoot all summer in the clover covered lawn was a guarantee of many bee stings to the toes, which I now file under -- wish that was still a problem. And lastly – don’t ever, ever eat rhubarb’s toxic leaves.

My good friend Sarah, another city transplant who grew up in the fields of Connecticut’s countryside, said she also remembered foraging for rhubarb in the springtime. Once snatched up, she would dip the raw stalk briefly into the sugar bowl before each bite. (Pro tip)

Even now, I could lead you by the hand with my eyes closed to the place where the rhubarb grows. Each spring it matures in an uncultivated space on the right side of my mother’s garden, just outside the fence. There, it mingles with weeds, and grasses, and pricker bushes, waiting to be plucked and tucked into something sweet.

The rhubarb arriving every year was something I always looked forward to. The deep satisfaction of the seasons changing seemed to be important to me, even then. It’s arrival meant that the weather was getting warmer, school was almost over, summer was so close you could smell it. It meant that we were going strawberry picking so soon. However, I have no associations with actually consuming it. You see, my mother never really did anything with her rhubarb.

I wish I could tell you all that I have fond memories of strawberry rhubarb pies swirling around in my springtime memories of growing up. But in truth, it seems my mama wasn’t ever too big on pie. Which is why I’m probably not too big on pie. I have no consistent culinary memory link to it. I have one vague recollection of her making a crisp.

Rhubarb was one of the first things I picked up at the farmer’s market last year when I started going. I picked it up with only faint purpose since I had no idea what I was going to do with it. I knew it was seasonal, I knew it was fleeting and still --- those seem to be only two things I need to know to spend my entire savings account at a market stand. I ended up making this. And then I made it a few more times with the rhubarb I’d begged my mother to pick from her garden and freeze for me. A few weeks ago when I was not-so-patiently waiting for rhubarb and strawberries to show up, buried within my too full freezer I discovered a baggie of both rhubarb and strawberries from last summer --- a bonafide win. They soon found themselves stirred into a pot with some vanilla to make some more. I have new associations and now (strawberry) rhubarb compote means that spring is here.

Once I finally got my hands on some actual rhubarb, swirling some saucy fresh stuff into some cake was definitely an upgrade. Say you want those swirls even more shockingly pink, (if you couldn’t tell by my instagram feed), strawberries are here people(!!!) Use this compote recipe to swirl in instead. I, however, really liked the puckery rhubarb all by itself. I also love this rhubarb sauce’s demure shade of pink. Almost like it’s not quite calling attention to itself until it hits your tongue and it’s an explosion of pleasant tartness.

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Rhubarb Swirl Cake

adapted from this recipe by Cannelle et Vanille

Yield: 1 nine inch square cake

Ingredients:

Rhubarb sauce:

2 cups diced rhubarb

½ cup raw sugar

juice of half a lemon

Cake:

3 eggs

1 cup raw sugar

1 cup full fat greek yogurt

1/2 cup melted unsalted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup white rice flour

1/2 cup millet flour

2 tablespoons tapioca starch

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

powdered sugar for sprinkling (if desired)

Directions:

In a small saucepan over low to medium heat stir together the diced rhubarb, ½ cup of sugar, and the lemon juice. Stir occasionally. Keep at a simmer. It will take about 30 minutes for the rhubarb to breakdown and come to desired consistency. Once it is thick and jammy, turn off heat and allow to cool down a bit.

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

Line a 9-inch square cake pan with parchment paper.

Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar, yogurt, melted butter, and vanilla extract.

Add in the white rice flour, millet flour, tapioca starch, baking powder and salt. Whisk again to thoroughly incorporate.

Pour into the cake pan and spread it out evenly.

Dollop four thick lines of the rhubarb compote onto the top of the batter. Using a toothpick, knife, or skewer drag through the rhubarb lines to create a swirling design throughout the top of the cake.

Bake cake for 40 to 45 minutes minutes or until it’s edges have turned golden brown and a cake tester comes out clean.

Let cake cool in pan. Using the edges of the parchment paper, lift the cake out of the pan. Dust with powdered sugar, if desired. Cut into squares.

Note: You will probably have some rhubarb compote left over. Swirl it into other things like yogurt or ice cream or oatmeal. Sometimes I just eat it with a spoon, but that’s just me.

Monday Market Haul - 12/29/2014 + Brown Butter Blondies

Full disclosure: This is LAST Monday’s market haul.

After that whirlwind of a Christmas I barely know what month it is. So last Monday Market Haul it is!

Panic shopping quickly turned into panic wrapping and then panic delivering. Between that, the baking, and the making of lasagna -- Christmas day is always a stressful event. And somewhere in there, I turn another year older. Covered in powdered sugar, red sauce, and brown butter, I'm now 27.

I’m a notoriously grumpy Christmas baby, but throughout the years, I’ve cobbled together a fairly amazing group of friends, so now this time of year I am spoiled rotten to the core. Between New York friends, work, home, and then home again, I received no less than 4 cakes. I’m pretty freakin’ lucky. Being a Christmas baby wasn’t so bad this time around.

In an effort to spoil myself, I took to daydreaming about my dream cake, which consequently would not be a cake at all. Don’t get me wrong, put cake in front of me, I will NOT refuse. Never. Not ever. But in a perfect world, cookies would probably top my list with ice cream or really good donuts just trailing behind. 

So to christen my first birthday with my blog running, I decided to make some dreamy brown butter blondies for my special day. Which I had big plans to photograph, but as mentioned, my Christmas day was cray, so all you get is a shitty instagram below. Many thanks to Dash and Bella for the "hella" good recipe. This is of course in addition to the classic pudding bundt cake my mother makes me every year. (See above: spoiled rotten.)

I’m now confident that I know what heaven smells like. And it’s brown butter and brown sugar mixed together. Make these blondies just.for.that.

These are filed directly under the “treat yo’ self” category. There is a dumb amount of butter, sugar, and evil gluten in these and I’m not sorry. They’re essentially half baked cookie dough. They are irrationally good.

Hope everyone had some amazing holidays! And since the season is not quite over, I think it’s more than okay to make these blondies for no good reason. You can find the recipe here. When the resolutions begin on January 1st these might seem gluttonous and extravagant. But right now, they are life affirming in the best way.

I atone my blondie sins with lots of brussels sprouts, squash, and tart honey crisp apples as shown! I finally got around to using all those b.sprouts I’d been bringing home, there will be evidence of that eventually. As soon as I’m done licking brown butter sugar from my fingertips.