These pancakes — they’re problem solvers. Of course pancakes, by nature, are pretty good at solving things. I’m pretty sure they have healing powers, especially when they’re stacked high and smothered in maple syrup and bits of bacon. But these particular pancakes solve a few specific problems for me. Before I get into that, let me explain a little bit more about these things. They are, in their simplest form, made with only two ingredients: bananas and eggs. “Whaaa?” you say? Yep. That’s what I said when I saw Izy’s post back in January. Mashed bananas + eggs = pancakes. Pretty healthy pancakes, at that.

OK, back to my problems. When it comes to pancakes, I have never been able to make it through a stack. Tall or short, it’s not happening. I’ll eat half at most, then I’m tired and full, and still stuffing bacon in my face like a champ. But these, I ate them all. No problem. I’m guessing that’s because they’re made mostly of bananas, not flour. Second problem: I tried desperately during my childhood to like chocolate chip pancakes, to no avail. And I could not understand why. I mean, friggin’ chocolate chips in pancakes FOR BREAKFAST! That’s a kid’s dream. But now that I’ve eaten these, I understand what the problem was: texture. See, I’m one of those weirdos that doesn’t like melty chocolate bits. Chocolate chip baked goods require a good number of hours of post-oven rest before I can enjoy them to the max. (Sending a *high five* to my dad, who shares the same preference. Apparently its hereditary.) But the cacao nibs remained crunchy and delicious, and totally rocked my world.

I decided to make a few additions, based on Izy’s suggestions and our mutual addiction to these muffins, which she got me obsessing about again after this post from the other day. A little bit of baking powder, some buckwheat flour, spices, and cacao nibs all made it into the mix. The additions still keep the pancakes gluten- and dairy-free (solving more problems!). And the result was so ridiculously good. I mentioned that I ate all of these already. But when I ate them, they were post-photo-sesh stone cold. And that stuff on them that looks like maple syrup? It’s not. I realized I was out after I’d already made all the pancakes, so I decided to mix together agave and molasses to get something that looked and poured like maple syrup. (It actually wasn’t that bad!)

Also, Eva of Adventures in Cooking has started up a book club called Adventures in Literature over on Goodreads! And Izy, Linda, Brianne, and I will all be moderating along with her. We’re going to be reading lots of awesome things, and you should definitely join us! You can find more details (and delicious popsicles) in this post on Eva’s site.

Banana Buckwheat Pancakes with Cacao Nibs
(inspired by and adapted with suggestions from Top With Cinnamon)

makes: 1 serving

1 large banana (between 1/3–1/2 cup mashed)
2 eggs
1/8 tsp baking soda
2 tbsp buckwheat flour
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp nutmeg
pinch of cloves
1 heaping tbsp of cacao nibs, plus more for sprinkling

Peel and mash banana, then mix in the rest of the ingredients. Grease skillet and heat over medium low.

Pour 1–2 tbsp of batter onto skillet. Cook for about 1 minute, or until underside is nicely browned, then flip and cook for about 30 seconds more.

Serve topped with maple syrup and additional cacao nibs.

Hey everyone! I am super duper excited to be sharing a guest post over at The Vanilla Bean Blog today. I adore Sarah’s space, and having the chance to occupy it (coupled with the recent unseasonably gross heat wave) inspired some ambitious drink-themed planning. The result was three pretty ridiculously delish drinks. (Also, I shoot with a white background, and I LOVE it. Madness!) So head on over to The Vanilla Bean Blog and check them out. Also, Sarah will be taking a little break this summer, so be on the lookout for lots of other awesome guest posts!

Happy Summer of Fun to Sarah and her family!

When I was young, I went through a phase where I was obsessed with apricot baby food. Not baby young; we’re talking four-years-old young. My brother (E) was an actual baby at the time, and I would insist on also being served a bowl of baby food whenever he was fed. (I’m willing to admit there may have been other forces at work here besides a love of pureed foodstuff. It’s possible that I was a little bit envious of my new, doted-on, glassy-eyed sibling [who wasn't even the right kind — I specifically told my mom that I wanted a sister]. And if I wasn’t going to get to play in the baby jumper suspended from the living room ceiling [which E clearly wasn't capable of utilizing to its fullest potential], then I was at least going to demand that I be given the same treatment as him when it came to food.) So yeah, maybe there’s that. But I recall really enjoying the taste of apricot baby food, specifically. (No matter how fixated I was on making sure this of blob of a baby knew it wasn’t special, there was no way in hell I was eating pureed carrots.) The apricot stuff didn’t just taste of sweet regression, it was kind of downright yummy.

Now, if you think that’s strange, it gets weirder. Since my baby food obsession died out, I’m pretty sure I have not eaten an apricot. I think I may have tried a dried apricot once at my parents’ insistence, and I was not impressed. I blame the texture, which has kept me from enjoying a lot of pitted fruits until recently (when I realized they are good for plenty of other things besides straight eating). After making a really delicious roasted plum sorbet last year, I was ready to branch out a bit more into the world of stone fruits.

So when I spotted some apricots in the store a couple weeks ago, I thought back to my baby food obsession. I considered buying a few but then decided against it, since I had no idea what I’d actually want to do with them. But then Eva posted this gorgeous galette, noting that apricots have a rather short season (I had no idea), and it inspired me to think up something asap.

My thoughts immediately went to roasting and ice cream, and The Flavor Bible pointed me in the direction of adding almond in some form. I love a bit of crunchy texture in my ice cream, and an almond streusel seemed beyond perfect. And it would give me an excuse to bake up an entire pan of streusel, which is something I have to restrain myself from doing without a specific purpose. (I’ll try to tell myself that I’ll surely use it for something, but I know that something would just wind up being me eating fistfuls of it straight from a mason jar.)

As I researched recipes for apricot ice cream, one of the things that surprised me was the consistent absence of egg yolks. I finally happened upon this recipe (also the inspiration for the buttermilk addition), which mentioned that stone fruits contain lots of pectin. Therefore, ice creams made from them don’t require an additional thickening agent, like egg yolks. Pretty rad, right? Don’t get me wrong, I love me an eggy ice cream. But not needing to stand over a hot stove waiting for a custard to thicken? That wins, especially in the heat wave we’ve been enduring lately.

Roasting the apricots with brown sugar gives them a deeper, richer flavor, which is brightened up by a couple healthy squeezes of lemon juice. The buttermilk really takes the tartness of this ice cream to the next level. You’re hit immediately by a sour flavor, which slowly mellows, and is then rounded out beautifully by the bits of buttery almond streusel. (You can totally see people experiencing these flavor transitions when they taste the ice cream for the first time. If I could hear the thought process, I think it would go something like, “Whoa, this is TANGY……[citrus and buttermilk mellowing, apricot coming through]……ok, this is actually pretty good……[streusel bits]……what was THAT…omg…more…MORE!!!”)

Just a few notes on flavor: If you aren’t totally into the idea of a somewhat sour ice cream, you might want to forgo the buttermilk and use all heavy cream instead. Also, I added a little bit of freshly ground black pepper to the streusel to give things an unusual bite, but it didn’t quite come through the way that I had wanted it to. I’ve amended the streusel recipe below with double the amount that I used, but feel free to leave it out entirely. Alternatively, I had considered adding some fresh bits of rosemary to the streusel, but completely forgot to pick some up from the store [and, sadly, am a total slacker who still has yet to plant her garden]. I think it could bring some really wonderful flavor to the ice cream, but whether or not you’d like to experiment with that is up to you. Regardless, I highly recommend that you grab some apricots and give this ice cream a try, before they’ve disappeared from the shelves.

Roasted Apricot Buttermilk Ice Cream with Almond Streusel
(adapted from The Perfect Scoop and Endless Simmer)

makes: around 1 quart of ice cream

Note: When choosing apricots for this ice cream, the riper, the better. You want the ones that feel like you could put your finger right through them if you don’t handle them in the most delicate way.

1 1/2 lbs of mega-ripe apricots (15–20, depending on size)
brown sugar (for roasting)
3/4 cup of sugar
1 cup of heavy cream
1/2 cup of buttermilk
2 drops of almond extract (careful not to overdo it — a little goes a long way)
juice of half a lemon
1 cup of almond streusel (recipe below)

Almond Streusel

Note: This recipe will make more than you need for the ice cream. Store the leftovers in the fridge for up to 1 week (or freeze on a baking sheet then store for longer in the freezer), and sprinkle on top of ice cream when serving. Never enough streusel!

1/2 cup of sliced almonds
1/4 tsp almond extract
1 stick of butter, cut into cubes
1/2 cup of almond meal
1/2 cup of brown sugar
1/2 tsp freshly ground coarse black pepper

Preheat oven to 350° and line a small baking sheet or pan with parchment paper.

Add slivered almonds and almond extract to a food processor and pulse until finely chopped. Add remaining ingredients and pulse until a crumbly mixture comes together. (Alternatively, if you don’t have a food processor, you could finely chop almonds, then combine the remaining ingredients and cut in butter.) Spread evenly over baking sheet and bake for approximately 20 minutes, or until butter has melted and the mixture has begun to brown around the edges. Remove from oven and let cool, then break into crumbly bits.

To roast the apricots:

Preheat oven to 425°. Halve and pit apricots. Arrange on a parchment- or silpat-lined baking sheet and sprinkle with a healthy dose of brown sugar. Bake for around 20 minutes, or until super soft and nicely browned.

To make the ice cream:

Add still-warm apricots to the bowl of your food processor along with sugar and pureé until smooth. Push mixture through a sieve to remove and fibrous bits.

Add apricot pureé to a bowl and stir in lemon juice and almond extract, then mix in heavy cream and buttermilk. Cover and refrigerate overnight, or until mixture is completely chilled.

Freeze in your ice cream maker as per the instructions. Mix in streusel once the freezing is complete.

Earlier this week, while enjoying my usual early morning routine of sipping coffee, catching up on blog posts, and postponing looking at my work email for as long as possible, I happened upon Lan’s question: What color would you describe your days right now? It made me pause, not in search of an answer, but in surprise at how quickly mine came to me.

Lately, my days have been a little grey. This is due, in part, to the much-needed rainy spring weather. But mostly to the fact that I am, for the first time in a long while, single. After nearly four years, Johnny and I decided to part ways last week. It was not preceded by constant arguing or festering animosity, nor was it entirely unexpected. We’ve simply realized that we are better friends than anything else, and that freedom from the constraints of a relationship would be best for both of us, as individuals and as friends. Despite the fact that this is the most amicable end to a relationship I’ve experienced, the sadness is no less difficult to bear. It makes food taste bland, turns seemingly normal breaths into heavy sighs, and makes it impossible to write this post without pausing to brush away a few tears.

The weather, thankfully, has been kind enough to match my mood. I’m enjoying the overcast days, the (sometimes epic) rain showers, and even the thunderstorms that wake me up at 3:00am. But before all this grey spring weather, we experienced an early summer spell here in the northeast, which prompted me to make these sodas.

Ever since this celery cocktail, I have been thinking about ways to incorporate other seemingly unusual vegetables into drinks. I wanted to start by making a non-boozified drink, especially after Alanna made this gorgeous celery soda that sounded all sorts of refreshing. I quickly fixated on red bell pepper + lemon, and then basil crept its way into the theoretical mix. But to be honest, I totally did not know what to expect when I combined all of these things together. I juiced the pepper and the citrus and made an agave syrup for sweetener, then I just kind of stood back and stared at all the separate ingredients sitting on my counter, moving in every few moments to bring two things up to my nose at a time and contemplate what they would taste like together. Bell peppers, while sweet, refreshing things to chomp on, have quite a flavor. And a glass of that liquid unadulterated flavor seemed a little intense to me once I had it right in front of my face. Finally, I muddled a tiny bit of basil in the bottom of a glass, added small amounts of the rest of the ingredients, and took a sip of the base, sans seltzer. And damn, you guys, was it delicious!

The lemon is the key to bringing an awesome brightness and balance to this drink. The agave syrup worked nicely as a sweetener, but I think a honey syrup would be equally (if not more) tasty. The basil adds some welcome earthy notes, but be careful not to overdo it, since too much can ruin the whole thing. My next step (obv) was to experiment with adding booze! Gin was good, although I found the juniper-y notes to be a bit much, especially in combination with the basil. Vodka would of course work well, since it wouldn’t really bring much to the party, flavor-wise. But the best combination, hands down, was with rum. (Which I’d kind of figured, as I’ve been super intrigued by this infusion since last year.)

The rum blends seamlessly with everything else in the drink, and makes the whole thing taste of summer. I bottled up a few and brought them to a bbq, and they were mostly met with rave reviews. (One friend described them as “interesting,” but hey, pepper juice just isn’t for everyone.) Overall, I am really digging this whole straight juice in drinks as opposed to flavored simple syrup. The taste is unparalleled, and it gives you a lot more control over the various components of the drink, rather than having the flavor of the fruit/vegetable intertwined with the sweetness. I am looking forward to experimenting with lots more juice-based drinks this summer.

Red Bell Pepper, Lemon, & Basil Soda

makes: two 8 oz. sodas

• 3 oz. red bell pepper juice
• 3 oz. lemon juice
• 2 oz. agave or honey syrup (1 part agave/honey : 1 part water)
• 2 basil leaves
• 8 oz. seltzer

Muddle basil in the bottom of a shaker. Fill with ice, then add pepper juice, lemon juice, and syrup, and shake to combine. Strain into two glasses filled with ice, then top with seltzer.

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The Danny Torrance

makes: one drink

• 2 oz. gold rum (Gosling’s will do nicely)
• 1 oz. red bell pepper juice
• 1 oz. lemon juice
• 3/4 oz. agave or honey syrup (1 part agave/honey : 1 part water)
• 2 basil leaves
• seltzer

Lightly muddle basil in the bottom of a shaker. Fill with ice, then add rum, pepper juice, lemon juice, and syrup, and shake to combine. Strain into a glass filled with ice and top with seltzer.

I’m curious — is it just me, or has the spring ramp craze been extra crazed this year? At first, I thought maybe it just seemed that way because I finally started using Instagram (total old lady when it comes to embracing new forms of social media). But when I asked my mom last weekend if she and my dad had ever seen any ramps in the woods, she replied, “What is it with those things? Wai Shun (long-time family friend who owns a Japanese restaurant in Delhi, NY) asked me the same thing the other week.” She went on to say that they’d never come upon any, which surprises me considering their property consists of around 60 acres of forest-y land adjoining 500 acres of state land. She then called yesterday to tell me that she’d spoken with the woman who runs a little garden center/farm stand in the neighboring town, and when my mom asked her about ramps, she was equally unsure of their existence on her property, although thought that might be what’s been growing under her blueberry bushes. But she said that just that past weekend, some douchetastic guy that was clearly up visiting from the city (better known ’round those parts as a “citiot”) came into the store demandingly searching for ramps as well.

If the ramp market has yet to be tapped in that part of upstate NY, it’s probably a good thing. Since I’d only been introduced to ramps two years ago, I hadn’t given much thought to over-foraging until Laura wrote this post last week. I’d still like to search my parents’ woods myself, though, just to see what I can find. Perhaps my parents can spend their retirement foraging and making a fortune off selling ramps to the citiots.

(Also, I have a number of friends and I’m sure a lot of readers from downstate, so I’d like to assure everyone that we certainly don’t think you’re all citiots! :) That term is reserved for the weekenders that speed through our towns, talk down to locals, and have their cell phones permanently attached to their faces. Ugh.)

Given the ramp craze, I probably don’t need to explain too much about these delicious little things, despite the fact that they can be hard to come by in certain places. My love of them kind of fascinates me, considering just how much I hate onions. (You can read more about my introduction to ramps in this post.) Between their short season and the fact that I tend to cook and eat ALL the ramps before I can even think about getting out my camera, I don’t have the chance to get in many posts about them. You aren’t really missing out though, since I’m pretty much just caramelizing them every time, then putting them in or on whatever else I’m making. I’d love to try oven roasting them or making them into pesto, or incorporating them into butter (omg right?) too. Eventually, this will happen. But right now, we’re going to talk about caramelizing, and pairing them with one of my other favorite spring veggies — asparagus.

I wanted to keep this pizza on the lighter side, so I made the crust a lot thinner than usual, and dialed back the cheese to allow the veggies to be the real stars. The base of the pizza is a healthy dose of Greek yogurt dotted with agave, thyme, and goat cheese, then topped with caramelized ramps, asparagus ribbons, and some baby kale, plus a little bit of parmesan and fontina, and some red pepper flakes. The one thing I had intended to do once the pizza came out of the oven was drizzle a balsamic reduction all over it, but I completely forgot! You should do that, though, if you make this pizza. (It was a totally passable version of delicious without it, but really, balsamic reduction. It can do no wrong.)

Since ramps consist of a bulb and greens, I caramelize them in three stages: The bulbs go in the pan first, then the section where the leaves me the bulb, and finally, the greens. I added the leftover asparagus heads and stems to the pan at stage two as well. The asparagus ribbons and baby kale get tossed with a little bit of olive oil and sea salt (if you have some smoked sea salt on hand, definitely use that). The tang of the Greek yogurt base works really well with the greens and the occasional kick from the red pepper flakes. The cheese mostly hangs out at the back of the flavor party, lending a hint of earthiness from the fontina and saltiness from the parmesan, and the occasional punch of decadence from the goat cheese. I can only imagine that a drizzle of balsamic would have made the whole thing perfect, but there’s always next time!

Caramelized Ramp & Ribboned Asparagus Pizza

• half of this pizza dough recipe (for a thin crust pizza)
• cornmeal for dusting (or parchment paper)
• 1 small bunch of ramps (approximately a dozen)
• half a dozen medium-sized asparagus, shaved into ribbons, remaining heads and stems reserved
• handful of baby kale (or another green of your preference)
• 1/3–1/2 cup of Greek yogurt
• 1/3 cup of freshly grated parmesan
• 1/3 cup of freshly grated fontina
• fresh thyme
• agave or honey
• pinch of smoked sea salt
• red pepper flakes
• olive oil (no more than 2–3 tbsp should do it)
• healthy pinch of kosher salt

To caramelize the ramps:

Wash ramps thoroughly to remove any dirt. Cut bulbs from ramps a little bit below where the leaves begin. Make a second cut separating the section where the bulb meets the leaves. Finally, chop remaining greens into large-ish pieces.

Heat one tablespoon of olive oil in a cast iron skillet over low heat. Add ramp bulbs and sprinkle with the healthy pinch of kosher salt. Cook, stirring often, for 10–15 minutes, or until bulbs begin to soften and lightly brown. Add the stem-meets-bulb sections to the pan along with the reserved heads and stems of the asparagus. Cook for another 7–10 minutes, or until the bulbs have become quite soft and nicely browned. Add remaining greens and cook until thoroughly wilted. Remove from heat and set aside.

To make the pizza:

Preheat oven with your pizza stone to 500°. (If you don’t have a pizza stone, you can bake your pizza on the back of a baking sheet. [I actually had to do this to make this pizza, because my pizza stone was MIA! Turns out it was in the stairwell storage space. I put it there during Easter and then forgot about it......] Just preheat the baking sheet in the oven for about 15 minutes, then carefully slide the pizza right onto the back of it. I recommend using parchment paper if you follow this method, since it just makes things so much easier.)

Toss asparagus ribbons and baby kale with a drizzle of olive oil and the smoked sea salt. Set aside.

Dust your pizza peel with cornmeal. Shape dough, getting crust as thin as possible without tearing. Spread Greek yogurt over the surface, then dot with agave or honey and sprinkle with fresh thyme. Add some small bits of goat cheese (I made mine a little larger than pea-size and spaced them about an inch and a half-ish from each other.) Spread half of the parmesan and fontina over the pizza, then evenly distribute ramps, asparagus, and baby kale. Sprinkle with red pepper flakes and top with the remaining cheese.

Combine one tablespoon of olive oil and one tablespoon of agave/honey in a bowl and whisk to combine. Brush onto crust.

Bake pizza for about 12 minutes, or until crust is golden brown. Remove from oven and let rest for a few minutes. Top with a drizzle of balsamic reduction to make things extra delicious!