I confess to having a slight cookbook addiction, one I have no intention of giving up. I keep cookbooks by my bed and read them like novels.  My kitchen bookshelves are overflowing, and whenever someone wants to buy me something for my birthday, somehow I just can’t keep from asking for a cookbook.  My cookbooks runneth over.  (The cookbooks pictured above are not mine, as my phtographer is on a temporary hiatus…Thank you Flickr user “megabeth,”–we actually have many of the same books!) I spend time with every one–drooling, reading I (love cookbooks that tell me more about bread, olives, life in Paris…), marking the pages with the most inviting recipes, possessing every intention of trying that fabulous-looking Crostini with Marinated Escarole and Carmelized Shallots. But do I cook from these books?  Well sure, maybe one or two recipes.  I have a couple of books, like Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Eveyone that I use constantly.  But I also have a shameful number of cookbooks from which I have not managed to make a single thing.  Not one.  And it’s not because there aren’t beautiful recipes to try, or because I don’t want or intend to use them, but because I just haven’t gotten it together to do break out of my ruts and give them a whirl.

I’ve decided to try an experiment.  Every month I’m going to make one of the gorgeous, underused books on my cookbook shelf my “go to” cookbook for that month.  It doesn’t mean I’ll cook every single thing all month form that book, but I’ll make good use of it.  Whenever I’m seeking inspiration for breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, or cocktail time, I’ll go to that book first and see what I can find.  At the end of the month, I’ll post a review here, and by that time, I hope, at least a few of the recipes in the book will have moved into the regular rotation.  Think of all that unmined treasure!  I really can’t wait to dig in.  I am sure lots of you all are in the same boat.  Who wants to go to their own shelf, pull off a book, and join my experiment?

In colonial America, the full moons of early spring were called Egg Moons.  The longer days and increased light of the season stimulated the pituitary glands of the hens in the chicken yard, and as the hours of sunlight increased, so did egg laying.  Those of us with chickens in the backyard know this cycle well.  Though our first-year hens may lay every day during the winter, by year two or so the eggs gathered in the dark months dwindles. Then, just as we feel our own spirits rising with the light and green of spring, we watch the hens’ natural response to the season spill forth from their little coop.

Whether you have your own chickens, or purchase eggs from a small, local farm (apart from the artificiality of the bright-light-all-day-and-night corporate agriculture system), it feels delightful to be part of this rhythm.

Eggs are one of the most compactly nutritious foods available to humans, and eggs from backyard chickens–content with just a bit of space and a small coop–have been a staple for families in temperate climates around the world for thousands of years.  It is no wonder eggs, symbols of wholeness, completeness, and new life, are celebrated this time of year.

The best way to celebrate eggs is by eating them.  Skillet-poached Huevos Rancheros is one of our favorite quick meals.   You can do it right, of course:  soak your beans and make homemade salsa.  But I’m going to give you the busy weeknight straight-from-the-pantry version.

Simple Skillet-Poached Huevos Rancheros

You need:

1 15 ounce can of black beans, rinsed
1 15 ounce jar or tub of salsa (much of the seasoning/flavor will come from the salsa, so make sure it’s one you love)
4 beautiful eggs

Pour the beans and salsa into a skillet (we actually use a wok, which works great), and bring to a simmer. One at a time, crack each egg into a small dish, make a little well in the simmering beans with a big spoon, and slip the egg in.

Simmer covered until the yolks are cooked as you like them–about five minutes or so, for slightly runny yolks.  Serve with warmed tortillas and your favorite condiments:  avacado, shredded cheese, yogurt/sour cream, cilantro, goat cheese…

Enjoy!

And for more on full moons and food, have a look at Jessica Prentice’s lovely book, Full Moon Feast.

But this post  is not about raisins, or even about scones.  It’s about sun and spring, and being led by our delight rather than our to-do list.  Feel like a little soulful baking-for-no-reason?  Then why not treat yourself. Scones take just a few minutes, and fear not–all your work will still be there when you’re done!  But now you’ll have fresh, warm scones to go with it.  Here’s a recipe (adapted from one by Deborah Madison):

Spontaneous Spring Scones for a Sunny, Chilly Morning

1 cup rolled oats, plus more for the cutting board
1 1/2 cups flour (I like to use 1 cup whole wheat pastry, 1/2 cup all purpose, but any combo of these, or all one or the other will do)
3 tablespoons brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons cold butter, cut into small squares
1 large egg
1/2 cup plus 2 Tablespoons buttermilk (or milk, or cream, or a combination of these)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/3 cup currents or raisins (chop the raisins into small pieces if you like)–these are optional

Stir the dry ingredients together, then cut in the butter until the mixture resembles course crumbs.  Whisk together the milk, egg, and vanilla, then add to the dry ingredients.  Stir a few times, then add the currents or raisins if you are using them.  Continue to mix just until the dry ingredients are evenly moistened.  Scatter a layer of oats onto your cutting board, then turn the dough out on top of them and pat it into a 3/4″ thick circle.  Cut into six or eight wedges, and bake until nice and golden brown for 15 minutes (or so) at 425.  I like to put them on a baking stone.  If you have one, put it in the oven before you preheat, and let it heat up for at least 10 minutes.  Then put the scones right onto it.  If using a baking sheet, you don’t need to prepare it–plenty of butter in the scones!

These are good with your favorite jam, of course, but I like them plain, right from the oven.

Rice and Raisins for Breakfast

For two servings:

• 1 scant cup of water
• 1/3 cup raisins
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (or to taste)
• 2 cups of cooked brown rice (can be cold, right out of the fridge)
• 2 tablespoons toasted sunflower seeds (I prefer salted sunflower seeds, as I like the mix of sweet raisins and salty nuts, but you can use unsalted if you prefer.  And I always toast them, even if they are “roasted and salted,” because they are so yummy when freshly toasted–hot, brown, and almost popping…)

Bring the water, raisins, and cinnamon to a boil.  Layer the rice over the top, cover, lower heat, and simmer for five minutes.  Sprinkle with the toasted sunnies and eat up!

You might also enjoy Tangled Nest Granola.

This year Claire and I decided to celebrate in our own way by making  Dia de los Meurtos cookies:  gingerbread people (recipe follows) dressed up in their own skeletons.

We admit to being rather tickled by our skeleton-cookies.  They bring to mind  the work of Ikkyu, a 15th Century Buddhist monk and poet who I studied while living in Kyoto during my college years.  He drew hundreds of calligraphic skeletons, all of them busy about their day:  playing the flute, having a temper tantrum, tending the sick, making soup, making tea, making love.

The skeletons are accompanied by Ikkyu’s simple verse:

The vagaries of life
Though painful,
Teach us
Not to cling
To this floating world.

Why do people
Lavish decoration
On this set of bones
Destined to disappear
Without a trace?

These few days, while cross-cultural commemorations of harvest and the turning of life are being celebrated (Samhain, Halloween, All Souls Day, Dio de los Meurtos...) these little  cookies offer a good, non-threatening reminder of my body’s humble, earthen origins–and destination!

Rest in Peace all our dear departed, especially Tom’s grandmother, Lourice Furtwangler:  January 1907-September 2010.

It’s hard to find a good gingerbread recipe, one that holds up well for cutting, but isn’t too dry.  My current favorite is one I’ve adapted from Nancy Baggett’s All-American Cookie Book (the best kind of cookbook, full of lore about each cookie, and the history of American baking).  These cookies are nice and spicy,with a pleasing molasses crispiness. They are never dry.

Old Fashioned Gingerbread Cookies

Beat until fluffy:

• 1 cup unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 tablespoon ground ginger
• 1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
• 1 1/2 scant teaspoons ground cloves
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Add, and beat until well-blended:

• 2 teaspoons baking soda, dissolced in 2 tablespoons of water
• 1 cup light molasses

Add in three parts, and mix until thoroughly blended:

• 5 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

To decrease stickiness, let the dough stand at room temperature for about an hour (you can skip this step if you don’t have time).  If necessary for handling, add a few more tablespoons of flour.

Divide the dough into three pieces and pat into disks for rolling.  For best success in rolling out cookies for cutting, try rolling between two layers of wax paper or parchment, then freezing the rolled-out dough for about half an hour. Spread the cut-out cookies on a greased or parchment-lined baking sheet (I love parchment, but use it over and over again–you can just wipe it off) and put them in the freezer for a few more minutes to prevent spreading while baking.

Bake the cookies at 350 for just 5-7 minutes in the top third of the oven.  Decorate with your favorite Royal Icing recipe or, like me, just use a simple powdered sugar icing.  I like my mom’s recipe:  1/4 cup butter, 4 cups powdered sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla, 1/4 teaspoon cream tartar, and enough cream to make it the right consistency for the pastry bag–start with 2 tablespoons.  If it gets too milky, fear not–just add more powdered sugar.  This recipe is very forgiving.  (You probably just need half a batch for outlining skeletons.)  Enjoy!

Oh, dear. Even skeletons have bad days...

]]> http://thetanglednest.com/2010/11/day-of-the-dead-cookies/feed/ 8 http://thetanglednest.com/2010/10/eat-more-kale-a-kale-manifesto-with-recipes/ http://thetanglednest.com/2010/10/eat-more-kale-a-kale-manifesto-with-recipes/#comments Tue, 12 Oct 2010 18:42:02 +0000 lyanda http://thetanglednest.com/?p=2401

I have received more comments about this shirt than any piece of clothing I have ever owned:  my spiffy, turquoise EAT MORE KALE t-shirt.  People stare, laugh, turn their heads to watch me pass on the street, nudge their companions, make grimmacing kale-is-yucky expressions, and–best of all–stop to talk.  I hear that folks love kale, hate kale (a controversial vegetable!), grow kale, have the best kale pesto recipe ever, credit kale with the curing of various ailments.  But the most common comment far and away is this one: “I know kale is good for me, but I’ve just never liked it.”

I have a Kale Calling:  I love kale, and I want everyone to love it as much as I do.  It’s beautiful, easy to grow year round in the Pacific Northwest, is glowing with health benefits, and–when fixed well–is truly delicious.  But let’s be clear.  I’m not talking about that cactus-like winter/Russian kale with the red veins.  If you are growing that, and you think you don’t like kale, and can’t get your kids/sweetie/dog to eat it, then it is time for a kale variety switch.  There are lots of good ones, but my personal favorite is the dark blue/black Tuscan Nero kale, also called “Black Palm.”  It grows into a small palm tree of kale (people sometimes think it’s bolting, but it’s not–it’s flourishing).  The leaves are the prettiest shade of deep blue-green, and it tastes sweet, even when raw, and especially after a frost.

Kale is dripping with radiant health:  vitamin C, vitamin K, iron, beta-carotene, lutein, calcium, indole-3-carbinol (which encourages DNA repair at the cellular level and may block the growth of cancer cells).  Also lots of other things, which I have never heard of and cannot spell, but which are reported to be very good for us, including nutrients that:  improve eyesight, prevent cancer and colds, boost brain function, possess anti-inflammatory qualities, enhance digestion, and, and, and…the list almost literally never ends.  In World War II, the U.K’s “Dig for Victory” campaign (the English version of the Victory Garden), promoted the planting of easy-to-grow kale to help replace nutrients missing from everyday diets because of food rationing.

Still, you can’t just throw the stuff on someone’s plate, steamed until rubbery, and expect them to love it.  No matter how you fix your kale, first remove the thick stems and central vein.  You can do this by folding the leaf over and cutting the stem out with a chef’s knife or, even easier, with kitchen scissors (or any scissors–I also cut pizza with scissors!). Then try this simple, classic Italian recipe:

Kale with Garlic and Olive Oil

Parboil a big bunch of kale in a large pot of boiling water with a couple teaspoons of kosher salt.  Parboil only for 2-4 mintues, until the kale is tender.  Transfer immediately to a bowl of ice water (pluck out with tongs if you want to save the water), then drain, squeeze out all the water you can, and chop coarsely.

Heat 1-2 tablespoons of good, extra-virgin olive oil in an heavy skillet or wok over medium heat.  Add plenty of minced garlic, a pinch of hot red pepper flakes (to taste), and stir until the garlic is fragrant and just begins to color. Toss in the greens, and stir for a couple of minutes until the kale is nicely coated and seasoned.  Add a sprinkle of finishing salt, and some fresh ground pepper.  If you like, serve with lemon wedges to squeeze over the greens.  SO yummy!  This is really wonderful with farro, toasted hazelnuts, and some crumbled gorgonzola.

This day I added a little sauteed zuchinni...

Or try Kale Chips:

Cut stems out of the kale, then chop leaves into two inch pieces.  Toss to coat lightly with a good olive oil, and season as you like–with course salt, fresh ground pepper, a touch of cayenne…

Place the leaves in a single layer on a parchment-coated baking sheet, and pop them in a hot oven, 425 F, for 8-12 minutes.  Keep an eye on the chips!  They should just start drying/curling/coloring, but not become over-brown or brittle.  It’s a fine line.  These are so delicious–just like potato chips, you can’t stop eating them.  Even my non-kale-loving husband munches these till they’re gone.

To successfully freeze kale:  remove stems and lightly blanch as above before freezing.  Remove as much air from the container as possible before putting it into the freezer.  If using freezer bags you can mimic vacuum packing by putting a straw in one side, zipping the bag all the way up to the straw, sucking the air out, then quickly sealing the last corner of the bag as you pull the straw out.  It’s fun.

Try substituting kale for half the basil next time you make pesto.  Try sauteeing the greens in a little butter with some cinnamon, and serve in a roasted half of butternut squash.  Try a lovely harvest season soup of kale, whatever squash you have on hand, tomatoes, and white beans in a nice vegetable stock.  To inspire your kids to eat it, serve with parmesan biscuits (just toss a handful of parmesan into your favorite biscuit recipe).  Try telling us your favorite kale recipe so we can try it!

For your very own hand-screened and dyed “Eat More Kale” shirt, contact Bo, the Eat More Kale guy, at his studio in Vermont.

We are huge breakfast muffin fans around here, especially now–during fresh, local berry season.  My absolute favorite muffin recipe is one of Martha Stewart’s, loaded with butter, sugar, buttermilk, and other lovely things.  The muffins weigh about a pound each, and come out of the tins almost dripping with melted fat.  Heavenly.  But not for everyday, alas.  I like to make super-healthy, reasonably tasty, multi-grain muffins for my family, but Muffin Enthusiasm does not run nearly as high for such things.  Today I’m sharing my favorite compromise “very-yummy-and-almost-healthy” recipe:  mixed flours, no white sugar, chock full of local blueberries–a true super-food.  Some mornings (like today) Claire works the compromise further, wooing me into streusel topping.  But why not?  Harvest season blueberry muffins are cause for celebration.

Here’s my recipe, adapted over time from Ginny Callan’s Horn of the Moon Cookbook (no longer in print):

Tangled Nest Almost-Healthy Blueberry Muffins

Mix together dry ingredients:

• 2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
• 3/4 cups unbleached white flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

In a separate bowl, mix well:

• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1 cup milk or buttermilk
• 1/2 cup vegetable oil
• 1/2 cup honey (if your honey is crystallized, warm  it to liquid before adding to the mix)
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Make a well in the dry ingredients, add wet ingredients.  As usual with muffins, stir just enough to moisten–don’t overmix.

• Fold in  1 1/2 cups of blueberries, fresh or frozen, with a few strokes.

This recipe makes 12 standard size muffins.  Fill muffin tins and if you’re feeling celebratory, add a sprinkle of your favorite streusel recipe, or use this one–

Mix together with your fingers until crumbly:  5 tablespoons melted, unsalted butter; 2/3 cup flour; 2/3 cup confectioners sugar; 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon; dash of salt.  Press lightly onto the tops of muffins before baking.

Bake 20 minutes at 400 F, until golden brown on top.  Let the muffins sit for a few minutes before removing from tin, and cooling on a baking rack.  Enjoy!

Miner’s lettuce  was named for the gold miners of the 1850s, who wisely ate it.  It’s an annual in the purslane family, and grows in various places around the country. In Seattle, we have five different varieties, the most common being Siberian miner’s lettuce.  There are two things I love about miner’s lettuce.  One is its habit of growing in moist, lush places–”fairyish” places, as Claire likes to say.  Whenever you are gathering miner’s lettuce, you are somewhere pretty.  The other thing I love is that it’s perfectly delicious.  Sweet, juicy, succulent, tastes a lot like a cucumber with an edge of wild complexity–a sort of nuttiness.  My favorite way to eat it is in nibbles along the trail, but it’s always nice to bring some home and toss it in a salad–either on its own, or mixed with garden greens.  The sweetness balances nicely with peppery arugula.  Some people cook it, but I never do. For optimal flavor, gather the leaves when they are small, and before the plants flower.

Nettles, which grow well in disturbed areas, are an urban forager’s staple.  Recently, they have become perceived as a weed to avoid, what with their habit of stinging us with their formic acid-laden prickles.  But historically they have been used for food, medicine, and fiber.  The stems can be combed apart, and spun like flax–I am hoping to learn to do that this year.

When wilted, the stinging properties are rendered harmless, but be sure to wilt them completely–when lightly steamed, our tongues can still detect the possibility of stinging, and become worried.  No one wants to worry while they eat.  That said, you can eat the leaves raw, and they are quite tasty.  Roll the edges of the leaves inward, top-side out, making a little nettle-leaf burrito.  Place it between your back teeth so it won’t unroll.  Claire loves to do this as a party trick, but she always makes me do the rolling–I should get Mama Danger Pay, but I love that she’s game for it.  Nettles are perfectly delicious–use them the way you would use any other wilted green:  braised with a bit of lemon dressing, over farro with some crumbled bleu cheese and toasted walnuts (yum), on pizza with goat cheese and foraged mushrooms, in soups, quiche, frittata…Nettles are best gathered when young, and there are still lots of smaller plants out there–bright green, and under a foot high.  They can also be steamed and frozen for winter cooking.  Make sure that you wear gloves and long sleeves when gathering and preparing!

My daughter is salad averse.  She will eat spinach cooked into a quiche or something, but prefers not to.  Still, she loves both purslane and nettles.  Part of it might be the fun of gathering these things, but she seems to really prefer the flavors.  In all foraging, there is this wonderful element of wildness, of something more complicated and interesting and delightful and nourishing than  everyday domesticated fare.  When we walk in wilder places, we nibble whatever we can along the way.  Not just the delicious stuff–huckleberries, salmonberries, thimble berries, miner’s lettuce.  But also the not-so-yummy but still-edible:  snow berries, Indian plum, just for the reminder that these foods are available if needed.  I want my daughter to feel always at-home, sustained, and nourished by wild places.

And tonight, a simple spring meal:  nettle fritatta, local asparagus, and a salad of mixed greens with miner’s lettuce.  Delish.

Here’s a nice little frittata recipe, but fritattas are a highly malleable form.  Improvise freely.

Tangled Nest Nettle Frittata

Wash about half a pound of nettles, with their stems removed.  Shake them gently, but leave some water on the leaves, stuff them into a skillet, cover, and steam over medium heat until wilted.  Turn the wilted spinach into a strainer, and press out any liquid with the back of a wooden spoon.  Set aside to cool.

In the same skillet, heat a little olive oil over medium heat, and fry one or two thinly sliced boiling potatoes.  Make sure you cook it until golden brown and tender, otherwise your frittata will be too crunchy.  Stir in a finely sliced shallot (or scallion), and cook another minute or two.  Turn onto a plate to cool.

Beat four eggs in a bowl.  Stir in about 1/2 cup feta cheese (or smoked gouda, or whatever sounds good), a pinch of salt, freshly ground pepper to taste, potatoes, and nettles.

Wipe the skillet clean, then melt a teaspoon of butter over medium heat and swirl it around to coat the sides.  Pour the egg mixture into the prepared skillet, and let it cook until the edges begin to set.  Meanwhile, heat the broiler. As the frittata continues to cook, occasionally loosen the sides with a rubber spatula, and tilt the pan so the uncooked liquid from the center moves to the sides.  Continue until the frittata is about 80% cooked, 15 minutes or so, then pop it under the broiler until the top is set, and turning golden.  So pretty!  Let it cool a bit before serving.  Enjoy.

For much much more on foraging, check out my friend Langdon Cook’s amazing blog, Fat of the Land, (starting with his recent post on miner’s lettuce), as well as his book of the same name.

I love making crackers, but I’d never made cheese crackers.  I started perusing recipes, checking out the Beecher’s ingredient list, and chatting up the homemade cracker folks at our West Seattle farmer’s market.  After some experimentation, I have a recipe that I really love.  It’s not the same as the Beecher’s cracker, but it’s pretty darn good.

I will confess to you that although a copy of The Human-Powered Home sits on the kitchen table, I make this dough in my food processor, and it takes about two minutes (I’ve written before about being a thoroughly conflicted and contradictory neo-Luddite).  The truth is, I just hate “cutting in butter.”  I know it should be meditative and fulfilling and all that, but I just don’t like it, and I’m tickled that I can toss flour and butter together, push “pulse” for ten seconds, and have the perfect crumby mix.  I think of the food processor, and my beloved pistachio-colored stand mixer as my “kitchen tractors.”  But by all means, make the dough by hand if you like.

Here’s the recipe, but I want to encourage you to play with it.  More or less of this or that.  Make it yours.

Yummy Cheesy Crackers

1 cup unbleached all purpose or whole wheat pastry flour, or a mix of the two
1/4 cup corn meal
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon dijon mustard
1/2 teaspoon white wine vinegar (more or less on the mustard and vinegar to taste)
1 cup good cheddar, grated
1/4-1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan
2 eggs

With your fingers, or in the food processor, mix the flour, corn meal, butter, and salt, until fine crumbs form.  Add the mustard, vinegar, cheese, and eggs, and mix until the dough comes together.  Cover, and let rest for 10 or 15 minutes in the fridge.

Divide the dough into two pieces, and roll it very thin–about 1/8 inch.  I used to roll crackers with a rolling pin, and that works fine, but lately I’ve been using the pasta maker, which works much better (with an added benefit:  as long as the pasta maker is out, Tom is often inspired to make some beautiful fettucine for dinner).   If the dough comes out ragged, add flour–as much as it takes for a good, smooth result–it doesn’t seem to affect the crackers in the end.  Remember you are making crackers, not pasta–you don’t have to condition the dough by running it several times through the machine, as you would with pasta dough.  But this cracker dough is not fussy.  If you need to pass it through a few times, adding flour as you go, then don’t worry.  It doesn’t seem to worsen when worked.

Prick the dough all over with the tines of a fork, then cut it into squares, diamonds, or triangles, using a knife or pastry wheel.  Sprinkle with a good finishing salt or kosher salt, and whatever else you like.  Paprika is pretty.  Seeds, such as cumin, caraway, or black mustard lend texture and spice.  Use your imagination.  They are also good with nothing at all sprinkled on top.

Heat the oven to 375, transfer crackers to a baking sheet, and bake until the edges are nice and brown, and the tops are beginning to turn golden brown, 8-12 minutes.  The ones in the photo at the top of the post are not quite done.  If you undercook the crackers, they will still be good, but less crisp. Store in an airtight container, and eat within a few days.

While you’re about it, you might want to make a double batch.  These disappear quickly, and you can freeze half the dough for next time.  Let us know how you like them, and we’d love to hear about your own favorite cracker recipes!

Molasses gives this bread a beautiful golden color without adding too much sweetness.

There are times, of course, when we just can’t be around to hover over the lovely pattern of rising-panning-rising-baking.  But my daughter seems to have become spoiled on home-baked bread, and declares any store-bought sandwich bread to taste “like chicken feed.”  (How does she know what chicken feed tastes like?  She won’t say…).  For such occasions, we have been enjoying a whole wheat quick bread adapted from  King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking that, while not quite as good as our favorite yeasted breads, is still pretty darn tasty. This bread keeps well, and  though there is a little brown sugar and molasses in it, it’s not too sweet, and has a rustic, old-fashioned flavor–it tastes just as good with a nutty cheddar as it does with our homemade peanut butter and blackberry jam.

Yummy Quick Molasses Nut Bread

2 cups whole wheat flour  (traditional whole wheat, or white wheat both work beautifully)
1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (one stick) unsalted butter
1/2 cup light brown sugar
2 large eggs
1/3 cup molasses
1 1/4 cups milk
2 tablespoons orange juice
1-1 1/4 cups chopped nuts (walnuts are yummy in this recipe, but go ahead and experiment)

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flours, baking powder, soda, and salt.

In a large mixing bowl, cream the sugar and butter until light and fluffy.  Add the eggs one at a time.  Beat in the molasses.  Add 1/2 the flour mixture, then about half the milk, then the rest of the flour, then the last of the milk and the orange juice, mixing until moistened after each addition.  If using a stand mixer, scrape the sides of the bowl as needed throughout the entire  process.  Stir in the nuts.

Transfer the batter to a buttered or oiled 9 x 5 loaf pan.  Bake in a 300 degree oven for an hour and 10-15 minutes.  Check the bread in an hour–if it seems to be too dark on top, cover it lightly with foil for the last bit of baking. Let the finished bread sit 20 minutes before removing it from the pan, then allow it to cool completely before slicing.

The long baking time at this lower temperature allows the bran to become thoroughly moistened by the wet ingredients, making a wonderful, tender bread.  I love a hunk of this bread toasted plain with my morning coffee.  It’s dense, so slice thinly for sandwiches.  Enjoy!