Coconut Macaroons

I am not a baker, so for my mom to request a coconut dessert for Thanksgiving was a bit unusual. But we are planning for my brother-in-law's Christmas visit with my sister and niece, and his family always has some sort of coconut dessert. Alas, it fell to me to experiment.

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For once, I relied on a recipe. I know this is essential when baking, so there was no doubt I would lean heavily on the science of someone else's recipe. This one is simple:

5 cups of coconut (one bag)
1/3 cup flour
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup sugar
4 egg whites

Here are the steps: mix well, plop onto baking sheets, bake at 375-degrees for 25 minutes. Oh-- and watch them because, as my mom warned, "coconut burns quickly." As a finishing touch, I melted chocolate and dipped just the bottoms in the drippy chocolate (after letting the cookies cool in the fridge for a while).

They were a big hit at Thanksgiving, and I have no doubt they could successfully be made with a sugar substitute for those watching their holiday (and everyday) sugar intake. If you're an established baker or an aspiring one, you, too, can succeed at baking these macaroons-- fork (not) in hand.

Microwave Baked Apple

There are certain foods that say "fall" to me. One of them is apple crisp, and when I have a chance to eat it, I do my best vacuum cleaner impersonation. However, I acknowledge that some of the necessary ingredients in apple crisp-- like the salty butter and chunky brown sugar-- are not exactly healthy-diet-friendly. So to satiate my need for apple crisp, I attempt to mimic the dominant flavors and make a super-quick microwaved "baked" apple.

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I start by selecting the biggest apple in the bag. Then, I embark on the hardest part: using a paring knife to cut out the core. I do not like the texture or the taste of apple core, so this is an important step for me. After coaxing out the core, I dump in a combination of instant oatmeal, cinnamon, nutmeg, walnuts, and a tiny bit of brown sugar. I stick the whole thing in the microwave, where the apple proceeds to bubble and give up its natural juices.

You only need to microwave the apple until the juices start to run. And be prepared for a pool of flavor in the bottom of your bowl. But for all it's sloppiness, this hot and comforting treat hits the flavor notes I crave this time of year. And, indeed, I eat it voraciously with fork in hand.

Pumpkin Cup-Muffins

'Tis the season for everything pumpkin, and-- thankfully-- Hannaford (and all other known grocers) have finally stocked up. I grabbed two cans the first day I saw them, and I plan on stockpiling soon.

I decided to revisit my cup-muffin recipe (a cupcake-like muffin/muffin-like cupcake) with this canned nectar from the Autumn gods, and I was not disappointed.

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I started with a sugar-free white cake mix, a can of pumpkin puree, and a little water. I mixed the three ingredients together, adding water as needed. The end result was a mixture about the thickness of, say, creamy mashed potatoes or squash. (When I eventually 'poured' it into cupcake papers in my muffin pan, I had to use my finger to gingerly coax it out of the ladle.) I added chopped walnuts and some cinnamon and nutmeg. I didn't measure, of course, but I would recommend a tablespoon or two, depending on how deep your love of cinnamon and nutmeg runs. Mine needed to run a little deeper on this recipe, so next time I will ere on the side of excess.

I plopped (really a more accurate term than 'poured') my batter into cupcake liners until all of the available muffin wells were full to the top of the wrappers. I threw a few unsalted sunflower seeds on top (I find killer seeds at Trader Joes) for added crunch and flavor. I baked them according to the temperature and time listed on the box; the temperature was fine, but because the pumpkin is so wonderfully moist, they needed to bake substantially longer. I let mine go an extra ten minutes, and they're still ridiculously moist. On the one hand, that enhances their deliciousness; they have a sticky top, as though coated in a glaze. On the other hand, they are messy to eat. That said, I would suggest baking them until they meet your specifications.

Dear me, these are heavenly. The flavor of the white cake still comes through, but the pumpkin is undeniable. With the added texture of walnuts and the earthiness of the sunflower seeds, these cup-muffins are, by far, one of my favorite desserts/snacks. And I don't feel the least bit guilty eating them-- with or without fork in hand!

Banana Cup-Muffins

I don't bake. My sister is the baker in the family. But I'm more well known for my "brownie biscotti", created only when I over-cooked brownies by twenty minutes. I am also notorious for under-cooking... everything that is supposed to emerge from the oven hot, steamy, and, well, cooked. But I had a hunkering for cupcakes/muffins, so I made up a recipe. This could certainly have been a recipe for disaster.

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I went to Hannaford looking for white cake and canned pumpkin. Unfortunately, there seems to be a shortage of canned pumpkin in Chelmsford, MA. I decided to purchase a yellow sugar-free cake mix and use a couple of thoroughly brown bananas we had sitting on the counter at home. I've made chocolate cupcake/muffins with pumpkin before; it allows you to bake without eggs and oil, two ingredients many of us are trying to omit from our diets (i.e. Ram and me). I figured banana could mimic the consistency of pumpkin, so I decided to give it a shot.

I literally poured the pouch of cake mix into a large mixing bowl. I added the two bananas, which I smooshed a little in my hands on the way into the bowl. I also added about 3/4 cup water. A minute or so of mixing, a sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg, and I was ready to load up my muffin pan. I only made twelve cup-muffins (I've invented this name for the delight that is a cupcake with muffin qualities and/or a muffin with cupcake consistency), so I essentially filled the muffin pan. I baked at 350 degrees for 15-20 minutes.

They were so delicious. Sugar-free, oil-free, and egg-free never tasted so good. And I loved the slightly-doughy texture. Cook them a little longer if you want a dryer, potentially-fluffier cup-muffin. And while these are wonderful eaten directly out of the pan by hand, you can also enjoy them with fork in hand. You won't regret it.

Strawberry Shortcake

The image below looks slightly better than it tastes, but it takes simplicity to a level I kind of like.

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When I picked fresh Maine strawberries in mid-June, I was only home in Maine for, maybe, a day or two. I packed a bunch (are strawberries called a 'bunch' when they're taken as a group?) and moved them to Massachusetts, along with the rest of my stuff. That's right. I packed my strawberries right beside the boxes of tee shirts and totes of shoes. Gladly, they survived the trip-- barely. Fresh-picked strawberries are delicate beings. I find that if I do not eat them within a few days, they become more mush than berry. But that first bite just minutes after they've been plucked from their dirty, leafy wombs? Worth every ache and pain from squatting in the field under a blazing hot sun. The juice erupts from the skin, filling the lucky biter's mouth with sweet, sunny nectar.

I fear my description may seem grandiose, especially if you have, devastatingly, been limited to store-bought berries. To be fair, strawberries of any origin at any time of year are my favorite fruit, so I can't begrudge my fellow fruit fiends for buying our pre-packaged friends. But nothing-- and I do mean nothing-- in the world compares to a berry baked under the sun in rural Maine. And my description, while a little verbose, is accurate. Trust me on this.

So the berries in the image survived their journey, and I wanted to treat them with as little sugar and abuse as possible. These berries were tossed with about a tablespoon of honey (primarily because I did not have sugar in the apartment; secondarily because honey has a certain organic quality that you just can't get from granulated sugar). I baked the biscuit by adapting a recipe I found online.

The biscuit was a mixed success. It didn't rise like it should. It didn't develop that fluffy interior I love so much. But it did taste like a biscuit should taste, and it came out of the oven steamy and doughy, which I quite like. And when fresh berries have been tossed with honey, they demand to be eaten in exactly this fashion.

Thus: the image above. A quintessential (at least in my family) summer dessert, prepared with a lot less effort than my Gram and Gramps used to put in (pureeing berries, sweetening, chopping, repeating). I'll take it any day, in any place, at any time. It will always mean watching the world go by on my grandparents' front porch and the simplicity of summer.

Happy eating-- with fork in hand.