Good and Polenta-y

Campers, the wet cold dreichness of a Scottish August seems to have followed us home to Pennsylvania - and my compulsion to conserve the ripest, freshest summer produce has duly transformed into an urgent need to bake. This often happens when I am faced with rainy weather and many, many loads of laundry.

Inspired, perhaps, by my recent holiday and yearning once again for a slice of Valvona and Crolla's excellent syrup-soaked gluten-free orange polenta cake, I did something I don't normally do - I spent a few moments trawling the web for likely-looking procedures.

Now, I am on record as being distrustful of internet recipes and the ten minutes I devoted to the task were largely spent in vain. Most of the schemes I discovered involved the use of some proportion of *shudder* wheat flour; quick-cooking polenta (non in questa vita!); or strange manufacturer-specific sugars that I do not keep in the house.

No, I needed to be able to produce a gluten-free cake without any weird or convenience ingredients and did what I usually do in these circumstances: I made it up as I went along.

As a foundation for my cake I decided to use my favorite corn flour (organic! stone ground!) rather than coarse polenta, which I thought would provide too challenging a texture in the final product - if it even cooked at all. One of the recipes I found included some ground almonds in the batter, which I thought sounded like a fine idea - so I stole it. For the syrup, I decided to use turbinado sugar because I thought the brown caramel earthiness would provide a nice counterpoint to the oranges. I considered adding some orange liqueur or Amaretto to the syrup but didn't, in the end, as I'm pretty sure the cake at V&C was alcohol-less.

The fabrication of the cake proved to be simplicity itself, apart from the fact that in the process my trusty handmixer gave up the ghost with a fearful screeching and clanking and, if I'm not mistaken, a small puff of smoke. This alarming event necessitated the hasty retrieval of my standmixer from its appointed Metro shelf and production resumed without further incident. 

The result was extremely delicious, if I say so myself - one of my best yet, in fact. It was as moistly sweet and toothsome as the cake I enjoyed in Edinburgh (and looked like it, too!) and sufficiently cheerful and zesty to drive away gloomy thoughts of rain.

Orange Polenta Cake alla Scozzese

For the cake

• 3 eggs
• 7 oz granulated sugar
• 7 oz butter, melted and cooled
• 5 oz ground almonds
• 5 oz corn flour (organic! stone ground!)
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp vanilla
• grated zest of one orange
• pinch o' salt

For the syrup

• strained juice of 2 oranges
• 5 oz turbinado sugar
• splash of booze, if desired

Preheat your oven to 350 deg F. Butter and line a 9" round cake pan with silicon parchment.

Beat the eggs and sugar together vigorously until you get a light mousse. Slowly beat in the melted butter.

Add the almonds, corn flour, and baking powder and combine well. Mix in the remaining ingredients.

Pour the batter into your prepared tin and bake for 45 minutes or until the cake is done.

While that is happening, combine the orange juice and sugar in a small pan and heat slowly until the sugar is dissolved. Raise the heat and boil for about three minutes, or until you have a nice syrup. Add the booze at the end if you are using it.

As soon as the cake comes out of the oven, brush the hot syrup over the top - you might not need it all. Leave the cake on a rack and remove it from the pan when it is cool. Serve at room temp (or slightly heated in the microwave) with powdered sugar, thick cream, or ice cream.

Thrift

What is it about the possession of a cast iron skillet that inspires a certain prudent frugality? I found myself considering this question as I dished out hoecakes for a family breakfast recently.

They might have been johnnycakes. I'm still not 100% clear on the distinction between these two varieties of corn disci, except that johnnycakes appear to be from Rhode Island. I mean, does anybody really make her breakfast on garden implements these days? But I digress.

At any rate, I had begun the morning with the aforementioned skillet and my bag of corn flour, neither of which has left my side for any considerable length of time in recent weeks. Ever since November's Pileup-prompted bout of nervous exhaustion I have been thinking about suitable pancake substitutes and my gleaming bag of corn flour provided the unmistakable counteragent.

I made the Hoejonnycakes (that sounds extremely rude, I know, but I'm not sure what else to call them) by taking a cup of my wonderful corn flour and mixing in enough hot water to make mush. I added sufficient cream to make the mush into batter and added a bit of salt together with some molasses for sweetness. No emulsifiers, no xanthan gum, no exotic metallic flours - simplicity itself.

I cooked the cakes in a bit of shortening in my beautifully rustic skillet and served up the result with a pile of thick home-made apple sauce (from organic apples, no less: I am teachable, after all) and a bit of caramel (also home-made) for sweet fanciness. The Hoejonnycakes were crispy on the outside and melting on the inside, with a distinctively mellow corn flavour and aroma. The family agreed they were way more exciting than the pancakes typically found in a flapjack stack and we considered other serving options. The usual breakfast fare of bacon and poached eggs was mooted, although the cakes' similarity to blinis (in shape and size, anyway) prompted additional thoughts of sour cream and smoked salmon. I suppose the lesson here is that Hoejonnycakes have the potential to be pretty darned versatile.

You may well be wondering where frugality enters into the discussion. Well, I will tell you. With exactly the same apple sauce, caramel, and cream (I subtracted the corn flour and added a few eggs) I was able that very evening to produce a lovely gluten-free dessert of Apple Snow, which was inspired by the rather blustery conditions we have been experiencing lately.

Apple Snow was apparently the invention of the redoubtable Mrs. Beeton, but Julia Child popularized it back when raw eggs didn't require the game of Russian Roulette they do now. Since I like to live life on the edge and encourage my family to do the same, I had no qualms about beating some whites with sugar to make a foam; enriching that with a bit of whipped ream (a remnant from my panna cotta experiments); folding in the apple sauce to make a mousse; and crowning each serving with a generous dollop of caramel. The result was a rich-tasting but light-feeling treat with the taste and aroma of fresh, fresh apples.
And if that isn't a sensible use of leftovers, I don't know what is.

Making Haste

Readers may recall how I recently discovered corn flour (organic! stone ground!) from Bob and His Red Mill and subsequently made for Sir cornbread, which he had never previously tasted.

You may be wondering how it is possible that I have lived Stateside for fifteen years and never before cooked this most American of dishes. Well, the simple truth is that I never really cared for cornbread as I understood it. Grainy, mealy, gritty - all adjectives that I will happily ascribe to road surfaces, exfoliating preparations, and emery paper but that I do not think are appropriate when applied to baked goods.

With the discovery of corn flour (organic! stone ground!), however, a new world of pones, fritters, johnnycakes, breads and other Yankee delicacies has suddenly opened up before me. I turned to The Joy of Cooking for further inspiration, reasoning that if Irma couldn't come up with some oh-so-traditional uses for this down-home ingredient then nobody could.

I instantly hit pay dirt. Indian Pudding! Warming, spiced, hearty, and delicious - what could be more comforting on these dark cold January nights, now that there are no twinkling holiday lights to cheer us? I'd never tasted the dessert, you must understand, but it sounded like a grand idea. The baking time was three hours, but since I was making stock and therefore tied to the kitchen anyway I decided to give it a whirl.

The only problem is the name. Are we honestly still supposed to be calling this dish Indian Pudding? I mean, in this day and age? TJoC does address this vexing issue in a somewhat roundabout way, by explaining that etymologically speaking the appellation derives from the star ingredient, which the Pilgrims called Indian meal 'in reference to America's native peoples'.

Still not comfortable, I decided to do some research. With a mug of Earl Grey on the desk beside me, I discovered something fabulous.

Hasty Pudding.

According to Wikipedia, Hasty Pudding (of Yankee Doodle and Crimson fame) was originally made from wheate in olde Englande (and therefore gluten-rich) but came to mean corn mush in the Colonies (where it was gluten-free). Strictly speaking, Hasty Pudding is made from corn meal and water only - when you add spices and molasses it becomes, properly, Indian Pudding. But I am going to call my corn flour (organic! stone ground!) pudding hasty, partly because it is anything but, partly because it's less culturally insensitive, and partly because I like to be contrary.

Whatever moniker you choose, the final result is awesomely delicious: dark, earthy, slightly bitter, and delectable beyond belief. All it needs is some really good vanilla ice cream melting on top and you are set.

It is also, I have discovered, excellent for breakfast when heated in the microwave with a touch of milk.

Here is how to make Hasty Pudding with Corn Flour and Molasses.

You will need:

• a generous heaping one-third of a cup of corn flour (organic! stone ground!)
• 4 cups of milk
• one-half cup of molasses (I used really dark stuff)
• 4 tablespoons butter
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• ground ginger, ground cinnamon, nutmeg - anything you think is appropriate
• pinch of salt

Preheat your oven to 275 deg F and butter a two-quart casserole or oven-proof dish. I used the same French oven in which I poached my confit de canard and it performed flawlessly.  

Dump the corn flour (organic! stone ground!) into a large saucepan and slowly pour in the milk, whisking all the while. Go very slowly or you will produce nothing but unsightly lumps.

Keep whisking and heat the mixture to a boil: when it gets there, cook it on medium heat for about three minutes. Don't stop whisking!

Reduce to a very low heat and cook for a further 15 minutes, stirring quite often. Make sure to scrape the bottom of the pot! The mixture will start to get very thick.

When your 15 minutes is up, remove the pan from the heat and stir in the rest of the ingredients, yum. Decant the mixture into the buttered dish and bake it for about three hours. It will still be jiggly when you agitate it and have a rich brown skin on top.

You need to cool it on a rack for some time before you serve it so it will firm up a bit - Mrs. Joy says about an hour. We couldn't wait that long and it was still delicious. Leftovers keep well and can be microwaved with great success.

Especially at breakfast time.

Iron Supplement

Having last year praised my pots and pans unto the heavens, the irony of buying a new one was not lost on me as I surveyed the cast iron skillets at my local hardware store.

I have long coveted one of these black beauties and finally broke down and bought one a few days ago (they are never very expensive, but who can resist a post-holiday cookware sale?). I brought my treasure home, seasoned it diligently, and - feeling like a pioneer matriarch on the high prairie - considered my options.

You may talk amongst yourselves as I make a small detour and climb up onto my soapbox. Readers may recall my disgust with the gluten-free Bread of Doom available locally and my determination to find other vessels for jam and confiture delivery. When I say other vessels, I mean honest products that are not pumped full of chemicals in order to mimic a bread-like substitute that, frankly, one wouldn't feed to the dog. Something delicious that I could make in my own kitchen and feel proud of - something that would do justice to fine home-made preserves or compotes. What with one thing or another my search never really gained momentum, with the tragic result that Toad's excellent home-made marmalade has languished in the fridge for over a month, untasted (by me, anyway).

As I pondered my new skillet, I achieved enlightenment. Cornbread!

I didn't have any cornmeal on hand, but some time ago I purchased, as part of my g/f flour trials, a one-and-a-half pound bag of organic whole-grain corn flour (stone ground!) from Bob and his Red Mill. Since the packet urges consumers to 'try making your favorite cornbread recipe with OW-GCF instead of corn meal - you'll find your cornbread richer!' and I am a very obedient girl, I did what I was told and whipped up a batch.

Here is how I made the most delicious Gluten-Free Cornbread ever:

I deposited a biggish blob of shortening (between one and two tablespoons, probably) in my new ten-inch cast iron skillet. I popped it into a cool oven and turned the thermostat to 450 deg F.

I made sufficient buttermilk by taking two cups of organic 2% milk (the only stuff I'll buy since last month's foods-that-will-kill-you scare) and stirring in two tablespoons of Japanese rice vinegar (the most innocuous vinegar I could find in the pantry). While it sat for five minutes, bubbling, I beat together two eggs until they were good and frothy. I whisked in the buttermilk.

In another bowl, I measured out one and three-quarters cups of corn flour, one teaspoon of baking powder, one teaspoon of baking soda, a generous pinch of salt, and a generous pinch of sugar. I decided to keep it simple, leaving out peppers or dried fruit, on the off-chance that my scheme didn't work.

When I judged my oven and pan to be hot, I whisked the milk/eggs into the flour mixture, quickly pulled the now-smoking pan from the oven, and dumped the whole lot in. It spattered and spit in an extremely satisfactory way. I hastily returned the pan to its designated shelf in the hotbox.

When I retrieved the skillet twenty minutes later, it looked very pretty, if I say so myself:

We ate warm wedges with butter and Toad's sublime orange marmalade. It was sheer bliss: fresh and delicious. The cornbread was not at all gritty in the way that it can sometimes be, so if that's how you like yours, flour probably isn't the way to go. I myself am not so keen on the traditional sandy texture that cornmeal imparts - perhaps my life north of the Mason-Dixon line is to blame. This bread was soft and fluffy - creamy, almost, like polenta - with a delectable crispy crust. I thought it was fantastic and will be buying corn flour henceforward.

Sir, who is from a benighted country where 'corn' means 'wheat', had never tasted anything like it. His initial reaction was [quote]: 'I can see I could be accustomed to it, but it's not in my culture.' He subsequently ate two wedges and agreed that the leftovers would make excellent stuffing for poultry - so I would call him a convert and the day a complete success.

As I side-bar, I should note that we wrapped the remaining slice in foil and heated it in the oven for dinner the following night. Although the crust was no longer crisp, it was tasty, tasty, tasty.

Gluten-free or not, it was damn fine cornbread.