Currently viewing the tag: "blood oranges"

blood orange quick bread
Sorry again for the lack of posts in February. The shortest month somehow zoomed by rather quickly; I’m still finishing up on my book, and my children have been taking turns each week being sick. The common cold, the flu, and now strep throat has knocked down our door. But we are surviving, one day at a time.

‘A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid any more.’ -John Steinbeck

Here’s hoping March has such an ending.
chickpea flour


blood orange quick bread with cream cheese icing


blood orange quick bread with cream cheese icing
This quick bread is another baking recipe for the Pulse Pledge. The United Nations has declared 2016 the International Year of the Pulse, and I’ve taken the Pulse Pledge, committing to eat pulses once a week for the next year. Pulses are beans, chickpeas, lentils and dried peas; leguminous crops that are good for your health and good for the environment. I’ll be posting recipes involving them periodically this year, incorporating pulses not only in my savory cooking, but baking recipes as well. I’d love for you to join me! If the Pulse Pledge sounds interesting to you, you can read more about it here. It’s a 10 week commitment, and it doesn’t require elaborate baking: a serving of hummus and a bowl of soup are good ways to take them in, too.

This post was sponsored by USA Pulses & Pulse Canada. All opinions are my own.

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[Note: this is a re-post, again. I know, tacky. But! I love this pie, and the original post contained photos that made me cringe. So, when I had a chance to remake this pie, I decided to take some new photos, too.]

So, I’m on this blood orange kick. I keep buying bags of them, cutting them open one by one, just to see their pretty purple pieces stare back at me. I’ve eaten so many, hoping for inspiration, something new I can make with them. And then the idea came one afternoon, as I was scrubbing purple juice off my hands: blood orange pie. I am crazy about key lime pie – could I just trade some orange juice and zest and make some sassy dessert?

Yes, yes I could. And when I took my first bite, my mind immediately went to humid summer evenings, where my sister and I were tucked downstairs in the only corner of our house that was cool. There, stashed in the freezer, was a box of orange dreamsicles; our perfect summer treat. We would eat them slowly, the cold ice cream helping us momentarily forget our friend’s air conditioned homes where sleep came easy.
It’s Monday, and it’s these muffins, again. But just a bit different. {I can’t help it, they are so terribly good, and this is my most favorite combination yet.} I whipped these up one day last week on the fly; a dear friend was stopping by, and she needed a treat without gluten. There was a blood orange in my fridge, and a bar of chocolate in my pantry. The cacao nibs made their way in as well {they hate to be left out of anything, as you might have gathered}, and one incredibly tasty muffin was born.
And perhaps it may have been breakfast all week long.
I didn’t plan for it to be a blog post, but I shared these pretties with a few people and a recipe was demanded. I’m also banking on your groggy, tired, Monday eyes to overlook pictures from my phone; they will just have to do. But! really! you want to make these as soon as possible. Your hungry Monday tummy will thank you.

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When I was 17, a good friend handed me a copy of U2’s Joshua Tree. It was moments before I was headed out the door on our yearly family vacation to Wisconsin Dells, and it couldn’t have come at a better time, since I had recently worn out all my favorite recorded-off-the-radio mix tapes. Of course, I had heard some songs off the Joshua Tree in passing, but never had given the whole album a good listen. I popped the tape in my Walkman, and as my dad backed our sagging Chevrolet out the driveway, ‘Where the Streets Have No Name’ filled my ears. I’ll never forget the moment Bono’s voice washed over me. I clearly remember thinking I’ve been looking for this voice my whole life. My sweet young heart was absolutely enchanted.
Now let’s kindly remember I’m seventeen. My whole life hasn’t been that long, and I was a rather dramatic young thing: every moment was turned into a poem in my secret journal. But, looking back, I am able to pinpoint some sincerity in that statement, something more than a head-over-heals infatuation on said lead singer, something I couldn’t articulate at the time. I had just felt music open a new door in my humanity, in a way it never had, and I realized there were so many layers and so much depth to that sensitive girl smashed in the backseat with her siblings. As the songs rushed past my unconscious, I saw that this world was bigger than I could grasp, and it stretched beyond all the hurts and drama of a teenage girl. I needed to plunge right in – arms wide open – to seek and find, to embrace this life.
I’m not quite sure what all that has to do with blood orange ice cream. Maybe just that sometimes the simple things, the things you aren’t expecting, catch you off guard, and change things, point you in a new direction. The moment I slice that blood orange, and the bright purple shocks me, I am reminded how lovely and glorious this world can be. There are secret treasures hidden in many corners, beauty for all of us to find, to awaken us from our slumber. It is for us to look, search for it. To reach out, to touch the flame. Oh, where the streets have no name.*
I’m sort of obsessed with blood oranges. As I am immersed in gray winter days, the shock of bright purple segments hiding under that rusty orange peel brings light and warmth into our little home.
This loaf cake is the perfect vessel for these oranges. It’s crammed full of zest, complimented by olive oil, and brushed with a blood orange glaze. The oil keeps the loaf light and moist, and the orange flavor is perfectly sweet-tart. There is some sun in this snow country after all.