chickpea fig bars with sesame seeds and coconut

Five days from now, at least the now in which I am writing, I will be one day into yoga teacher training with Ana Forrest. !!! I’ve been planning this for more than a year, saving vacation and practicing yoga and trying to learn how to be as comfortable with myself as I can be. Yet now that it’s here I somehow feel surprised. Sort’ve. Another part of me knows that I’m ready. I am ready. Especially now that I finished making these.chickpea fig bars with sesame seeds and coconut Which taste much, much better than they look. And are here, in my freezer, ready to go without any need to plan or prepare or purchase. Healthy, homemade vegetarian food (we aren’t allowed to bring non-vegetarian food into the studio. Oh, and we aren’t allowed to eat garlic or onions. Or drink coffee. Lots of rules.) that will be fine spending a few hours in my bag and will be nourishing and strengthening without being heavy. Or so I hope. Because there’s no way to know now about what life will be like then. Sigh. Hopefully the training will help me get a bit more comfortable with this truth. Which applies to everything, always. Sometimes I like to pretend otherwise. But I know.

Perhaps that is why I so love to cook. Because it is a way to have control in this wold of constant change. Hmmm. Or maybe it’s just that I love food? Probably a combination. I used to love cooking more for other people to eat, as a way to express love. Lately, as I’ve spent most of my time alone, I’m learning that I like cooking for myself too. It feels good to take care of myself. But, again, perhaps it comes down to control. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it later. For now, here is the recipe for these homemade protein bars, which I first learned of from a friend at yoga, then finally made by adapting a recipe I found here.

Chickpea fig bars with sesame seeds and coconut
–3 cups cooked chickpeas, rinsed and with as much skin removed as possible
–2 cups dried figs, soaked in water for one hour then drained
–1/2 cup nut butter (I used a mix of almond and sunflower seed, both to finish off a jar and to up the calcium)
–1 snack-sized container of applesauce–about 1/3 cup? (I know. This is not very environmentally responsible. But the full jars kept molding.)
–1 tablespoon high-quality vanilla extract
–pinch of sea salt
–1/4 cup coconut flour
–1/4 cup almond flour
–1/4 cup sesame seeds
–1/2 cup unsweetened coconut flakes

Preheat the oven to 350. Combine the first six ingredients in the bowl of a food processor. Mix until thoroughly combined. Add the flours. Mix again, scraping down the sides as necessary. The batter will become very thick–you will probably have to scrape a lot. Add the sesame seeds and coconut. Mix again. You may have to finish by hand with a wooden spoon.

Grease a 13 x 9 baking dish (smaller is also okay) with coconut or olive oil. Press the dough into the pan. Bake for about 20 minutes. Let cool then cut into squares. I  laid the squares out in a rectangular container and stacked, separating the layers with wax paper, then put the container in the freezer. Allegedly they’ll keep in the freezer for two months. I don’t think I’ll have them that long. I will let you know. One day. Because I know that I seem to stay away from my blog longer and longer. But I always come back. Thank you for reading.

Also, here are a few photos from a walk I took this morning along the Chicago River. Note the bee. And doesn’t this tree resemble a person doing a standing split? Sort’ve? Except way more beautiful than the most beautiful person could ever be. Or maybe just different. Still. Quiet. Exactly as it is without needing to be anything else.

Maybe in yoga teacher training I will learn how to be more like a tree. Probably not. But maybe.

bee on flowerfavorite tree

mushrooms on treeyellow flowers

buckwheat zucchini muffins

This recipe is adapted from Erin Scott’s Yummy Supper, a gluten-free cookbook I checked out of the library last week. I haven’t tried any of her other recipes, but this one is great–the muffins are what you want in the morning, sweet but not too sweet, dense and filling but unobtrusively so, leaving you satiated but not full. And, oddly, buckwheat zucchini muffinsthese benefited greatly from being made ahead and frozen. I made them the other day and thought they were just okay. Yet, as I told a friend, while I didn’t think the muffin was the best tasting thing I’d ever eaten, I couldn’t stop eating it. And afterward I felt terrific, happy and full of energy. Nourished with zero crash. But the thawed version I ate yesterday morning, after yoga and before a visit to the Kettle Moraine State Forest in Wisconsin (!!), Kettle Moraine, Nordic Trailwas delicious. The flavors somehow deepened and softened, becoming one. I highly recommend. And you will note that this recipe contains no beans. I’ve been thinking about rewriting the “about” section of this blog. Because, really, I might post a lot more often if it wasn’t mostly about beans. Stay tuned for more on that. For now, though, here’s this recipe.

Buckwheat Zucchini Muffins (makes 12)

2/3 cups buckwheat flour
1/2 cup millet flour
3/4 teaspoon coarse seat salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 eggs, at room temperature (use the best eggs you can find and afford — it makes a difference)
1/3 cup honey (again, use good honey, ideally local. Good ingredients make good food.)
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/3 cup coconut oil, melted (sub olive oil if you dislike coconut)
1-2 Tablespoons molasses (optional–I used about a teaspoon because it was all I had)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (again, use high-quality vanilla extract. It’s easy to make your own!)
1-1/4 cups packed grated zucchini, squeezed dry in a towel, paper or kitchen
1/2 cup cacao nibs (original recipe called for walnuts, but I was out)

Preheat oven to 350. Grease a muffin tin with coconut or olive oil. You could also use butter. Whisk first six ingredients together. Whisk eggs either in a separate bowl or with the paddle attachment in f a standing mixer. Add honey, maple syrup, oil, molasses if using, and vanilla, until blended. Slowly add the dry ingredients and mix until blended. Add the zucchini and cacao (or walnuts), and stir to combine. Pour the batter into the muffin tin and bake 20-25 minutes. Cool on a rack. Enjoy!

Thistlep.s. This is the flower of a thistle. It made me think about Mark Bittman’s recent op-ed about foraging, and wish I’d taken notes. Or brought a guide. Because I bet there were a lot of edibles out there. Next time. This time, though, while we didn’t forage for wild food, we did stumble upon a remarkably great farm to table restaurant. The Black Sheep in Whitewater, Wisconsin. It was so good! Nourishing and delicious and creative. And every ingredient is Black Sheeplocally sourced, even the flour they use for their gravies and sauces, not to mention desserts. My friend and I split the cherry cobbler. It was delicious. But full of gluten. Yet I did not get sick. Food for thought.

Boston Baked Beans

Once again, it’s been a very long time since my last post. Dreamsofmyfava is languishing. Yet I am thriving. Living. Slowly learning how to be in the world more fully as I am. Which maybe isn’t the same as being the person I wish I was or could be. It’s all very interesting. At least to me. I’ve also been very busy with big projects at work. Indeed, I think maybe all my energy for writing has been directed there. So that I’m now writing this blog post only because on Friday I finally finished the reply brief in a really big case I’ve spent huge amounts of time and energy on in the past year and won’t start work on a new case until Monday. Mental space is crucial.

view from the gazebo at Pete and Anna's cabinBut this post is meant to be about Boston Baked Beans, which I made yesterday. I was inspired by my recent trip to New England. I was there last weekend to visit a dear friend and her husband, who live in Cambridge, Massachusetts. We spent a little time in Cambridge, but mostly we were in their family’s cabin in New Hampshire.

The cabin has no electricity or running water. Which maybe sounds terrible. But instead it was lovely. I’d been there once before, for their wedding several years ago. This time was different, though, because it was just the three of us and their dog, surrounded by and immersed in nature. And probably because I am so different now from how I was then.

My friend’s parents built the cabin thirty years ago, and have gradually added a million thoughtful details. Like this handletree handle on the screen door to the gazebo. Or the handwashing station next to the outhouse, which I didn’t photograph. So you’ll have to trust my words to convince you that it somehow managed to be more luxurious than any bathroom I’ve ever visited. An outhouse that smelled of wood and air.

I guess it smells of wood and air because there are trees everywhere and not much else. Except a few large stones, because the area was formed by glaciers.

As for the man-made aspects, another standout, which I again failed to document, was the garden, where one could easily get lost in meditation while ostensibly choosing and picking herbs and leaves for sandwiches, salads, eggs.

The cabin itself seems to have arisen organically, as if it was grown rather than built. Because there are so many considerate touches. Like the candleholders that are placed here and there and everywhere, so that they’re just where you want them, including one with a handle, and others that have been mounted to the wall in the back bedroom where I slept. That bedroom also held a basin so I was able to wash up a little inside just before bed and in the morning.

More extensive wash ups come with swimming outside in “The Pond,” which is apparently the New England word for “lake.” Whatever you called it, this pure body of water is deep and cold and still. Diving in you feel completely alive. And somehow extra clean.

Pone in the morningI think it was the lack of electricity that rendered the world of the cabin so special, so healing. My breath was deeper, like the way it is after yoga before I emerge into the clamor of city during days here in my normal life. Such a contrast from the cabin, where I felt like I could hear everything inside and out, uninterrupted by the noise I’ve become so accustomed to in Chicago. It was amazing. At one point, I even imagined I heard the trees speaking, not in words but with unmistakable meaning. Clear, direct communication.

During this moment when I believed I heard the trees speaking to me, my friend and I were in the gazebo. It had just rained, was raining, with alternating bouts of gusty wind and soft, barely audible patters. I was attuning her to Reiki, level one. (Because I’m a Reiki master now. Which is pretty cool.) I felt a deep sense of connectedness, with the trees and the stones and the rain and the gazebo and also with my friend, her husband, their dog, everything as one. And suddenly the trees were sending this message about how much they cared about my friend’s well being, recognizing her goodness, her beauty, the feeling they had of her belonging there, with the family, in that place. The trees were expressing their support for what we were doing. Which is cool. Because the trees are such a big part of everything there. It view from gazebofelt good to know or at least believe that we had their support and what felt like their love.

Now, writing this, I fear that maybe I sound a little crazy. Or, at best, eccentric. Whimsical. Like my imagination has gone overboard. Which very well may be true. But what I realize now too is that it doesn’t matter. What matters is that feeling. Because the feeling, whether objectively true or not, creates an opening. And with that open heart I allow the world to come in. Then, in that opening, I’m able to come out of myself with a deep faith that things are ultimately good.

Which brings me to the recipe. Finally.

Boston Baked BeansFor a long time baked beans were the only kind of beans that I liked, especially the kind that came in a can with heavy, syrupy sweet good sauce and awful chunks of fatty salt pork that I would fish out and cast to the side. As a kid growing up in the South I would doctor cans of Campbells beans by adding dijon mustard, brown sugar, and a little ketchup, then I’d bake them until the sauce was thick and bubbling. I liked to scoop them up with potato chips as a side for burgers.

When I was married my then-husband and I graduated to Bush’s baked beans, which tasted without doctoring similar to those beans of my childhood. I ate them the same way, scooped up with chips. Although he preferred plain Lays to my beloved Ruffles. The consequence of his strong personality and definitive taste combined with my insecurities was that I, too, learned to prefer plain Lays. (Now that I’m divorced I like both. Chips, which are gluten-free, may be my worst vice.)

Nowadays, when I’m trying to avoid anything with refined sugar, I eat almost no processed food. (Except chips. Damn chips.) This means I no longer buy any kind of canned baked beans. But I still love them. So, when we stopped at Calef’s County Store on the way home from the cabin, I was super excited to see these beans.Calef's Beans Then, last Sunday, lying in the guest bed in quiet, quiet Cambridge, I searched my friend’s extensive cookbook collection for baked bean recipes. And I decided on this one, an adaption from Slow Cooker Revolution. It took a really long time and wound up having to finish in the oven. But the flavor is perfect. I recommend.

Boston Baked Beans

2 oz. diced bacon
1 onion, minced
4-1/2 cups water
1 pound (2-1/2 cups) dried navy beans, soaked overnight
1/4 cup molasses (I used blackstrap but recipe calls for mild)
1/4 cup maple syrup (subbed for brown sugar)
2 bay leaves
1 tsp dried mustard
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 Tb cider vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

If using the oven, preheat to 350. Drain and rinse the beans. Transfer them to the slow cooker insert or a dutch oven. Cook the bacon in a skillet over medium heat for 5-7 minutes, until the fat has rendered. Add the onion and cook another five minutes or so, adding the mustard and cloves for the last minute. Add the onion mixture, molasses, maple syrup, and bay leaves to the beans. If using the slow cooker, cook on low for ten hours, or on high for seven hours. If using the oven, cover and cook for a couple of hours. Check occasionally and add water to cover if necessary. When the beans are soft, add a teaspoon or so of coarse sea or kosher salt. Stir and continue cooking until the sauce is thick and bubbling, and the beans are tender but not mushy. I wound up using the oven to finish because the sauce didn’t thicken in the slow cooker. But I will try again. If you try this out, please let me know how it goes. And good luck!