Days are dwindling – Pear Gingerbread Galette

Do you ever get that when something feels like it’s so far away that it’s never ever, ever ever going to actually happen, and then, ALLOFASUDDEN, it’s next week?

Well I do.  I’m not sure if it’s some sort of chronic denial disorder, but some plans, no matter how concrete, just seem surreal.

Next week I’m done with Ottawa. Done done. Not just like, “hey O-town, it’s been great, see you again next year.” It’s like, “hey O-town, it was nice knowin ya. for real.”

What looked like such an epic four year journey back in ’08, now feels like it’s been a coffee break. Or like, a grueling coffee break full of courses called Taxation, challenges like escaping the freshman fifteen, and friendships that I never thought I would build, but you get the whole metaphor thing.

I’m excited to wipe this fella off my mini pink dry-erase board, don’t get me wrong, but you know…. there are nerves. For definite. I’ve gotta be ready to tackle the globe you see, and it is…

rather gargantuan.

not unlike my love for kabocha squash.

(irrelevant and random)

I’ve got all of these plans.. and goals… and hopes.. and other big giant maybes… and now I’ve actually got to DO them. See I was just keeping them around because they sound nice. You know, like when the 87 millionth parent’s friend asks you what you’re going to do when you graduate? Oh I have a nice long list of potentials. And they’re also great for when you’re feeling all quarter-life crisis-y and trying to study the tax implications of a corporate wind-up and you start to ask yourself just what’s left to live for. That’s when all of that big-picture-magic-hopes-and-dreams mumbo jumbo comes into play.

BUT NOW I ACTUALLY DO THESE?! Not real.

Okay real. I’m excited.  I just really need to pack up my kitchen supplies.. because for serious… there’s a knife set, many pots, some spatulas, and a whoooole lotta linens between me and my hopes and dreams. And four exams. But whatever.  One week… to tie it all up.

The hardest part? Mi amigas.  Real goodbyes suck.   I think my strategy is just to not let them happen.

I’ll see them all again. No doubt.  That.. or I invite a whole whack of good ones over for a dinner party and make sure they’re all so full after the entree that:

1) We cannot possibly think of things other than our bulbous mid-sections, and therefore I cannot be sad or acknowledge that this could possibly be a real goodbye.

2) They can’t stomach dessert.  This will result in a delicious Pear Galette with a Gingerbread crust to devour primarily yourself over the course of the next week-ish.

It was good. Christmas-type good. Winter-type good.  Holiday-Spice good.  That’s my favourite type of good.  It’s what gets me through the whole “abandoning an entire stage of my life” thing. Christmas-liciousness.

It was also pretty.

If you’re trying to avoid facing life stuff and would rather have a dinner party and stuff your face with wintry goodness? Make this Pear Galette. The crust is gingerbread. Come on now.

Pear Galette with a Gingerbread Crust

Crust:

Adapted from Epicurious

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 4 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons ground ginger
• 2 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 3/4 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 stick (1/2 cup) cold unsalted organic butter, cut into bits
• 1 large egg yolk
• 2 tablespoons dark molasses

Filling:

• 3-ish medium (organic) pears, sliced thinly
• 2 tablespoons Fresh lemon juice (I’m sure concentrated would work)
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• heaping 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• extra course sugar for sprinkling

To prepare crust, whisk together the sugar and other dry ingredients (up to and including salt) in a large bowl, then cut in butter with knifes or a pastry cutter until it resembles a coarse meal.  If you don’t have the proper tools, dontcha worry, just crumble the mixture together with your hands. Nobody will die.  In a separate small bowl whisk together molasses and egg yolk (you can reserve the white for a wash later), then knead or mix egg mixture into the dry mixture until a dough forms, if it’s still a bit crumbly this is fine, just pack it into a disk and cover with plastic wrap.  Chill for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile combine all of the filling ingredients (except extra course sugar) in a bowl and let sit until your crust is prepared.

Once your dough is chilled, Preheat your oven to around 375°F. Roll out your dough into an approximate circle on a lightly floured surface, or directly onto a sheet of parchment until it is nearly an 1/8 of an inch thick.  Arrange your marinated pear slices in some super artistic form ontop of your crust, leaving a margin around the outside to fold over in a cute rustic way.  Once your edges are folder over, brush the crust with egg white if you wish, then sprinkle the entire galette with course sugar.  Put in the oven on a parchment lined baking sheet for between 20-25 minutes, or until the edges are beginning to brown.  Serve warm or cool with whipped cream.

Eat it when you should be eating square meals because you filled your guests too full to eat it for you the previous weekend.

Everybody has those days – quinoa apple galette

You must have those days.

Where no matter how well you know what you should be doing, you just can’t, for the life of you, listen to your brain.

I’ve been told that I should listen to my brain.

I’ve told myself that I should listen to my brain.

Do I?

on occasion.

But on those other occasions I must just be fed up with all of the things my brain says that I should do, “because of due dates”, or “because the baking sheet is hot”, or because “you’ve already eaten 2nd dessert”,  or “because you already have an injury and running would be stupid”, etc. so then I just.. ignore, ignore, ignore.

It’s like I build a mini berlin wall in my head to separate the thinking… from the doing… and I procrastinate, grab the hot baking sheet, eat a third cookie, and go for a run on a throbbing shin.  Because I’m smart.

Ugh.

Yesterday I made pumpkin cinnamon rolls.

You can only imagine the number of things my brain must have been trying to tell me to do yesterday. Oh yeah, I also tried to move the cinnamon roll pan while it was hot.  And practiced guitar for an unnecessarily extended period of time.  And went to the movies. And to the gelato place that I never leave.  They had spiced pumpkin.  NOT my fault.  Oh and baked cupcakes.

The brain-wall was thick on September 23rd.

Today, I will take a jackhammer to the brain-wall and face the things that terrorize me.

Woah, writing that = spine shivers.

Oh right, I was going to tell you about another time that I didn’t listen to my brain.  For the sake of food aesthetics of all things. FOOD AESTHETICS.  It’s not a thing really.

You see I made this galette.  It’s gluten free.  It’s made with quinoa flour.  That means it tastes like a dessert but really you get pretty much every nutrient from it – incidentally. It was delicious.

The night I made it.

And the parchment paper I cooked it on was all rustic and pretty looking.  And I didn’t want the galette to fall apart and die when I took it off the paper.  And I wanted to photograph it in nice morning-y light. Obviously.  So I stored it in a bag, wrapped in it’s parchment paper.  The parchment paper that smelled like burn. like house fires and burn.

The next day, you can guess how this (once delicious) galette tasted.  Burn.

Use your brain Britt.  Logic over pretty.

This, when not stored in burn smell, is delicious.

Apple Quinoa Galette

For the tart crust:

• 1 1/4 cup quinoa flour
• 3 Tbs sugar
• 1/2 cup butter (softened)

Combine flour and sugar in a large bowl, then cut in butter and mix with hand to form a dough.  Refrigerate cover for at least 1 hr.

Filling, now this one is quite off hand and depends on how many apples you would like:

• 3-4 very small apples, sliced thinly
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp cinnamon/ as much as desired
• 2 tbs lemon juice

Preheat oven to 375°F.  Mix all of the filling ingredients in a bowl and let sit. Roll out dough onto parchment paper until roundish and approx 1/4 inch thin or less. Arrange the cinnamon-y apples across the tart, leaving a 1 inch margin to fold over.  Fold the dough over the edge of the apples.  I found it easy to do this by lifting the parchment paper under each margin, and folding up and over. brush the tart edges with egg white and sprinkle with course/ brown sugar. bake for 16-20 minutes, or and long as is needed for crust to brown at the edges.  DO not store in parchment. just eat.

How to show them you care

So shortly before I left my homeland, I faced an obstacle.

How do you say “Happy Birthday”, “Goodbye”, “I know you so well it’s retarded”, “Please don’t forget how super I am”, “I wanna try to make you fat one last time”, and “I love you” all in a portable confection?

I’m pretty sure everyone comes across this dilemma a few times in their twenties. Yeah?

You know, when there’s someone kinda special who you might not see for kinda a long time.

You know, someone who’s always doing extra nice things for you.  Such nice things that you kinda want to flip out at them for being so dang nice cause it kinda totally makes you feel bad for not being equally as awesome and nice… which leads you to start constantly plotting evil schemes in which you can throw painful amounts of niceness back at them.

Yeah that someone.

BUT, you can’t just be all cutesy and overly mushy-girly-lovey-dovey-nice, because … ew. That ruins the mystique right. I’m not a softie.

You all know what I mean.

Plus.. knowing that someone… if you did something toooooo nice… their head would for sure expand to the size of your mothers’ new walk-in closet that you weren’t allowed to have. Ugh.

But at the same time, you totally know that that someone special deserves something that is undeniably fantasmigoracle.

EVEN if it means working through lunch and ducking out of a meeting early (you know how we all hate missing budget meetings).

Don’t worry, I figured it out for you.

I knew you were wondering.

I’ll tell you about it.

Bake them these.

Do other things for them too mind you, like hand-draw them a card with animated food on it, but definitely, definitely bake them these.

Especially if they’re a boy.

These may be the most magical and moist cupcakes to enter my life, ever.  They’ve gotten rave reviews at How Sweet It Is.  If I trust anything to feed to boys, It’s the stuff that gal makes.

There’s just something about chocolate and peanut butter.

They go together like…. I don’t know… two… really, really, ridiculously good-looking people or something.

Hot Fudge Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Buttercream

from How Sweet It Is 

Cupcakes:

• 1 1/8 cups all purpose flour
• 1/4 cup (fair trade if you’re nice) cocoa powder
• 1 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 cup brown sugar
• 1 (organic free-range) egg
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup organic milk
• 1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon heavy cream
• 1/2 cup melted organic butter
• 2 Tbs sour cream
• 1/4 cup homemade hot fudge sauce

Hot Fudge Sauce:

• 1 cup sugar
• 1 cup (fair trade) cocoa powder
• 2 Tbs flour
• pinch of salt
• 1 cup boiling water
• 1 Tbs butter
• 1 tsp vanilla

Make the hot fudge sauce first s’il vous plait. Combine sugar, cocoa, salt, and flour in a bowl over a double boiler. Bring water to a boil. Gradually add hot water to sugar mixture. Stir constantly until mixture thickens to your desired thickness. Then remove from heat and stir in the butter and vanilla. (use remaining from recipe to drizzle over cupcakes, then store the rest in the fridge for your family to eat after you’ve left *tear*)

For the cupcakes:  Preheat oven to 350. In a medium bowl whisk egg and sugar until smooth, then add milk, cream, butter, vanilla, and sour cream.  Sift together the dry ingredients and add to wet.  Mix until smooth.  Swirl in the hot fudge.  I tried to make pretty swirls. Not that it matters.  Line a muffin tin with liners.. trust me.. I didn’t.. but these baby’s are moist and I don’t want to put you through my stress.  Add 1/4 batter to each tin and bake for 15-18 ish minutes, and please let cool before you frost these. Nobody likes their frosting to escape down the side of their cupcake.

Peanut Butter Buttercream:

• 1/2 cup softened butter
• 2/3 cup very smooth natural peanut butter
• 3 cups powdered sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 4 Tbs (or more) milk
• pinch of salt

Cream butter and peanut butter together with your electric mixer.  Slowly add powdered sugar bit by bit.  If you are indeed using all natural peanut butter, It’ll get super thick, do not fear, there is hope for your buttercream.  Add vanilla and then milk a tsp at a time until you reach your perfect piping consistency.  I probably added 5 or more Tbs of milk.. but I didn’t have very liquidy pb.

FROST AWAY.

I think your somebody will like these.

Mine did.

This much.

If you want them to keep on remembering you while they drive away… put some in individual paper cups 🙂 they fit nicely in cupholders.

Happy Belated Birthday Post Sam, and keep brushing your teeth, those cupcakes aren’t sugar free.

Elephant Shoes

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kluane to chilkat international bike relay: Rigid Dorks

To save both of us, I’m going to keep this light on the commentary and heavy on the photography.

Last weekend, a team of four nincompoops participated in an international bike relay that spans this distance between Haines Jct, Yukon and Haines, Alaska.  The nincompoop who writes this blog decided it would be a good idea to cycle only once in advance. She doesn’t like roads.

For these nincompoops, the bike relay involved the following:

– Waiting for Michael to light a fire under his arse and meet us.  Olga (Zig’s ride) can only go so fast.

– Finding good use for a bag of munchies the size of a small ten year old, or large seven year old.

– Discovering someone’s mother, who had attempted to conceal herself in the bushes – Pitifully.

– Drooling over, and contemplating the consequences of joyriding pretty green bicycles.

– Lee. Reclining comfortably.

– Somebody overfilling their sleeping pad and wondering afterward if it’s actually supposed to have the buoyancy to raise a Subaru.

– The leader of the first pack looking back. Major no-no buddy.

– Logan being a Lard… on … and off the bike.

– Logan working hard occasionally.. trying to make up for his deflated tires.

– A runner on a bike, who is also a blogger, and who is far too determined to lift her head.

– A bagpipe player. One that played from his support vehicle throughout the entire race. Emphasis on entire race. Both inspirational and painful to watch.

– Ziggy’s sore bum and my foot.  I kicked it to make it feel better.  Don’t question my methods.

– Our trusty man pack.

– A rider named Michael, being far too happy. Man up and grind Mike.

– A rider named Ziggy with something to prove.

– A rider named Ziggy with something to throw savagely at her support vehicle.  Thanks for your leftover shot bloks zig.

– A really very good teammate, who is really very excellent at water bottle hand-offs.

– A self-righteous neighbour of mine. Thinks he’s all that because he beat us.  Whatever. I’m your neighbour too.  Guess who’s installing flood lights.

– A sign.  Don’t make me explain the funny.

– Freaking Daisies.

– Bill Parry’s Patchwork Pink Pants

– Four tired nincompoops.  One of whom is using all of her remaining energy just to remain vertical.

– Brittany’s family! Yes even they were involved! I bet you’re happy to see M. I sure am.

– Nansen! Yes, he was involved too!  Everybody is always happy to see Nansen.

– A good helper. One who was not involved in the not illegal peddling of things that are not hooch.

– A man and his drink of choice.  This man is manly.  You will meet none manlier.

– FREE MEALS. That were totally paid for in advance..

– A field full of tents; the field saw more intoxication than it deserved to.

– Two super fresh individuals the next morning.  One with unbeatable hair. Lee.

– Two more super fresh individuals. One with a spoon in his mouth.

– One even fresher individual… with a vibrant career in grass blade whistling ahead of him.

– Multiple morning mother faces.

– Multiple morning Brittany faces.  You know I do this for you people. Please know how fortunate you are.

– A brand new bike, because real riders build their bikes out of hammers. You pansy.

– A pan of delicious vegan berry snack cake.  One that you should never cover with tinfoil before it’s cooled and take it on a roadtrip.  Because sealing moist baked good makes them moister. Like very moist. moist. moist. moist.  Yes, it’s a terrible word.  I just like to press your buttons.

The cake was still extra tasty. Obviously it was.  It was created by Mama Pea.   I implore you not to underbake it.

But please. Bake it.  Then bring it with you on a bike race.  You’ll make cyclist friends.

Friend Maker Berry Cake

adapted from Peas and Thank You

• 1/2 c. soy milk
• 3/4 c. unsweetened applesauce
• 1/4 c. hazelnut-almond butter (or whatevs)
• 1/2 c. brown sugar
• 1/2 t. vanilla extract
• 1/2 t. almond extract
• 1 c. whole wheat flour
• 1 c. spelt flour
• 1 t. baking powder
• 1/2 t. baking soda
• 1 t. cinnamon
• 1/2 t. salt
• 3/4 cup cut strawberries
• 3/4 frozen blueberries

Preheat the oven to 350.  In a medium bowl combine the liquid ingredients (up to and including extracts).  In a large bowl combine the dry ingredients (ie: everything else besides the berries).  Fold in the berries and pour batter into a greased 8X8 pyrex or other pan.  Bake for half an hour, give or take, make sure to check with a toothpick.  If it doesn’t come out clean… don’t you dare stop cooking that cake.  Even if you have to hurry and leave to drive to haines junction, cake takes priority. Enjoy for dinner, then again crumbled over your oatmeal in the morning, then as a post race meal between lunch and dinner. Please.

It’s his party and he’ll cry if he wants to

You would cry too if this happened tooooooo you..

traumatizing, I know… your sister toiled away in the kitchen until 1:30 AM the previous night while constructing your perfect Darth Vader  birthday cake, detailed in chocolate buttercream. Life sucks for you.  You should cry.  You should especially cry if your friend hit you in the head with a soccer ball.

Come ON M.  You of all people should know that Star Wars cures all woes.

Ah whatever, it’s your party.  You’ll appreciate me one day.

Despite the tears, the party was still off the hook.  You should all be envious.  M turned 5 (On June 9th… this post is way late).  That’s half of ten.

I don’t think I need to tell you all that half of ten is a huge deal.

When you’re half of ten, you have to play soccer in your backyard.

Or cry inside while you eat a hotdog, and your friends who have already eaten their hotdogs play outside.

It’s ok, your friends (and uncle) will still have fun.

They might even have collisions with their brothers. 

They might even cry too.  Just to make you feel better.

It’s ok though, because when you’re half of ten, you come back from tears with a vengeance.  And often with light sabers (un-photographed).

When you’re half of ten, you likely will not have noticed the delicious caprese skewers that your sister made.

Or the Avocado Citrus Salad.

Or the fruit galettes. Definitely not the raspberry one that your sister meticulously shaped into a heart.

Or the rest of the dinner really. I mean come on… you had a cocktail weiner in a mini bun.

The rest of dinner (pictured on your sister’s lap) didn’t live up to your sophistique. Regardless of how much effort it required.

You’re half of ten though, I know you enjoyed your birthday cake.

You Enjoyed blowing out the candles.

You enjoyed eating it.

You enjoyed it nearly as much as Larry did.  This is Larry.  He’s a-freaking-dorable, but this post is about M so I’ll just throw all of the Larry photos down in one go.

Anyways M, you may not have run up to me and sung me praises for being the greatest sister, who made the greatest cake, and the greatest salad, and bought you the greatest ukelele that you love, and who you will never be able to replace.

BUT, I guess that’s not really what I was looking for…. I guess.

I guess I just love you anyway… so that why I did it. I guess.

And I don’t need to worry.

One day, when you are thirty, and a famous actor, you’ll look back through the archives of my blog… realize how much I love you.. and buy me a penthouse in Santa Monica, because you love me too.

But like I said… I guess I’ll just love you anyway.

And if you really are looking back on this, and are jealous of all of the delicious food that you didn’t try on your fifth birthday, but that lovely house guests like Ziggy got to try…

I’ll tell you some of the Recipes that I used:

Avocado Citrus Salad

Raspberry Buttermilk Cake

Vanilla Buttercream Icing

Chocolate Buttercream Icing (best.)

Happy Birthday again M. I love you eh.

The Weekender

No, I’m not talking about the best TV show to hit family channel.

I’m just talking about an overview, a little weekend update.

Though that show admittedly had my twelve year old self wrapped around its little finger. I was livin’ for the weekend. HEY!

(I hope you’ve seen “The Weekenders”, otherwise I’m sorry for startling you with that abrupt “hey!”)

My weekend was looking dreadful.

I think everyone can agree that, upon sight of this, an outlook that was once positive, would now be buried. 5cm down.. for the sake of accuracy.

Even though it looked like christmas.

Even though I my raspy sickness had me sounding like Steven Tyler.

I refused to accept my circumstances.

I would drink cold smoothies, and life would continue as it should.

From Friday night to Saturday afternoon was dedicated to the XX chromosomes.  Tofu stirfry, stove top popcorn, vegan pancakes, enviro-fairs, trail runs and long awaited girl talk. Oh it had been a while, fellow XXs.

They’re pretty cute, my friends are. Don’t get any ideas.

My free time was quickly drawn back to the small being with the huge influence over our household’s daily affairs.

The being needed a snack. Right Now.

As if there is EVER a request that doesn’t need to be carried out RIGHT NOW.

Oh I was going to deliver.  Sister points continue to be tallied.  I’m good at this.  You see, things that lone young twenty-somethings like to eat when they’re feeling hormonal… 4.75 year old’s like to eat them too. Funny how these things work.  Maybe it’s some sort of primitive inclination that just says “Carbs. In Mouth. In 5 Minutes or LESS.”

It’s a good thing we get along, M and I. Otherwise he may have missed out on this beauty.

Yes it seems like a breakfast bake. M himself said “It looks like a breakfast bake. I asked for a snack. NOT Breakfast.”

It’s not a breakfast bake M, it’s a cupcake.

Queue silence.

It is not breakfast. It’s not that good for you. By all means though, don’t let that stop you from eating it at any time of the day.

M’s words, “It’s actually good.” I never get words.

That was huge. Probably huger than the breakfast bake.. for him. Though he probably had an aneurism waiting for his food to be photographed before he could eat it.  I’m just surprised he doesn’t question my motives.  Maybe 4.75 years is long enough to notice that someone’s a little off, and that it’s best not to ask questions.

M had his with blueberries, if you’re feeling low, please substitute chocolate chips.

I ate the leftover blueberries.

Can you tell?

Minute Cupcake

(Adapted from Chocolate Covered Katie :))

3 tbs spelt flour (or any other kind, I already told you I’m a hippie)

1/4tsp baking powder

pinch salt

1 tbs melted organic butter (or oil, or applesauce if you’re even more of a hippie)

2 tsp agave (or other sweetener, can totally increase to 1tbs, I won’t judge)

1tbs + 1sp milk/milk substitute (I used organic 1%)

splash of vanilla

toppings: blueberries, nuts, chocolate, don’t let me stop you

Directions: Really? Fine. Mix all ingredients together in a ramekin or small microwaveable dish. Ramekins make me smile. Microwave for 1 minute. Eat.

In two minutes you could be eating this. why aren’t you? Well maybe I’ll let you off if you’re doing something cool like mountain biking.  After attending to the smaller being, the G-Rad (step dad) and I took to the trails.

My bum had to get back on the seat some time, might as well be on a sunny day.

On a trail called Blues Brother

With flowers.

Sometimes in order to really take in the scenery, you have to stick your tongue out awkwardly.

And then eat tacos. That’s important.

And please, whatever you do, don’t let them get away.  Shove them in your face or else they will escape.

My weekend exceeded my expectations.

It is no longer christmas outside.

I do, however, still sound eerily like Steven Tyler. Pray for my health. If you need me, I’ll be curled up in a corner surrounded by used kleenex and green monster cups.

In Good Company

I have friends.

Surprised?

Don’t answer that.

Yes, I know you know Nansen is my friend.  But there are others.  You probably know Colin and Logan are also my friends. Okay, but still, there are more!

Females even!

And no, even though I include my mother in this category, I wasn’t referring to her.  Thanks for that.

In order to keep my friends, I do things with them.  I run with them.  No one can say no to a conversation when you’ve already run 6km in one direction.  Even if they turned on a dime, they would have to bear my presence for another 6km. HA.

Running begats endorphins.  Endorphins begat happiness.

Some people mistake general happiness for feelings of friendship.  That is how Brittany’s friendships are born.

That and food.

I try, at times, to reward people who have persevered my friendship with food. I hope food makes up for lack of skype communication at school and consistently planning friend-dates around athletic activities. I hope it also makes up for all of those friend-hugs I’ve given while wearing not-so-fresh workout gear.

I think it works just fine for Coralie.  She hasn’t complained.  Then again, she’s one of those really awesome people who will tell you if you have an unsightly booger, but not complain about your sweaty hug.  Those are the best kind of people.

Those people get invited over for Mother’s Day dinner when their mothers are out of the territory. They can share my mother :). Temporarily.

Coralie and her lovely father Tom were in charge of appetizers. I was told that Tom makes mean appies.

Holy Cheeses. Yum.

I went for a modest and healthful dinner.  I was feeding runners. Muscles like chickpeas right? Whatever, I like chickpeas.

Ok, so I made this Lemon-infused chicken and chickpea stirfry.  It was full of awesome, which left room for a dessert.

An equally healthful dessert.

The anti-oxidants in blueberries make up for the 1/2 cup of sugar I added…. which leaves nothing to make up for the butter in the pastry crust.. or the decadent cream cheese layer. What am I saying, the deliciousness makes up for it.  We’re runners. Immune to butter.

At least that’s how I get to sleep at night.

Or is this how I get to sleep at night?

Jokes.

Enough with the jokes. I’m sorry.  You want to know how to make this deliciousness. Well it’s ridiculously easy. Galettes are my go-to dessert if I’ve got fruit, time constraints, and people to please.

Also.. Yes my mother has a fancy scale.. so I can make european recipes with grams. Which are better. Feel patronized, feel very patronized

Blueberry Galette

Pastry:

250g of flour

3tbs sugar

1/2tsp salt

140g chilled butter

1 egg yolk (reserve white for egg wash)

3 tbs cold water

zest of a lemon

Mix dry ingredients together in a large bowl. Combine the butter with the dry ingredients with your fingertips, until it resembles course sand.  You can do it. I trust you.  Add the zest, egg yolk, and water and mix it all in with your hands.  At this point you will feel both professional and domestic. Roll the dough into a ball, and chill it in the fridge for just over a half hour.

Filling:

3 cups blueberries (I used frozen wild organic)

2 Tbs corn starch

1 Tbs lemon zest

1Tbs lemon juice

1/4tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup sugar + some for sprinkling

Cream Cheese Layer:

4oz. Cream cheese

1Tbs icing sugar

5 or so shakes of lemon juice

Once you dough is nice and chilled, roll it out into an approximate roundish circley shape… maybe 1/2cm thick… use your own judgement.  Preheat your oven to 400°C. Stir together all of the blueberry filling ingredients. Mix (in a separate bowl) the cream cheese layer ingredients. Lather on your cream cheese layer, leaving a 1.5 inch border approx.

Spread out as much blueberry filling as you’re into ontop of the cream cheese.  I had likely a cup left (use it for other fun things, or make another pastry crust).  Fold the edges over the filling.  Make it look nice and rustic.  It’s not hard. The funkier the edges the better. Brush the crust with the left over egg white and sprinkle some sugar across the top. YES You are ready to toss it in the oven. It will be hard, but you’ll have to wait 20-30 minutes before taking it out.  It’ll be nice n hot. try n let it cool. then Eat it.

You can eat it for a post work pre-running snack the next day. Just as good the next day.

Prepare for infinite galette fruit combinations throughout the summer.  MMM seasonal fruit. Are you as freakin stoked as I am?

I hope you’re stoked Coralie. Because you know this isn’t the last galette we’ll share 😉