At Least I Know Where He's Been

Cookies pitted with walnuts, knots of cranberries and oats; bran muffins and a fat chicken are the focus of my afternoon. We must have cookies, the bran muffin mix is waiting impatiently in the fridge, and the chicken is still fresh. Only days ago he ran, free of range, on a Cowichan farm. I can almost see him with a plume of green and gold, head snapping to attention at every quick step. He stops – a worm – pecks, and carries on. Now he’s breast up, naked in my skillet. At least I know where he’s been.

The second half of Sunday is a prickly day. Poke, work tomorrow, ouch. Monday begins week four. “How’s it going?” my co-teachers inquire. The look so knowingly, “week three,” smile.

Baking brings its calm. Flour and snow, white and blank, they lull me. But Sunday’s promised snow never showed. Not that I mind.

As for the chicken, poor plucked thing, I’m not letting him slide in nude. After a massage of olive oil, loosening the skin over the breast to slide my fingers under, I sprinkle him with dill, a pinch of salt, and stuff him with four quarters of an orange and a handful of garlic cloves. Look where the free range got him, into the oven at 350 for a good hour and a half. Dinner consists of the bird and a cutting board of fresh spinach, mushrooms, grated carrot, sliced cheese, and a lump of new hummus. Dessert is cookies. Breakfast will be muffins.

Cooking is the simplest way of saying “I love you.” That may sound as pretentious as hell, but if you accept it as essential, your cooking will improve – and so will your love life.

James Barber

Moist Bran Muffins (King Arthur’s Flour Whole Grains Cookbook)
¾ cup boiling water
1 ¼ cup bran cereal, divided
¾ cup raisins
¾ cup packed brown sugar
¼ cup veggie oil
2 ½ cups whole wheat flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 large egg
¾ cup buttermilk
½ cup orange juice

Pour boiling water over ¾ cup of the bran in a small mixing bowl. Add the raisins, brown sugar and oil.

In another bowl, mix together flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt.

Beat the eggs with the buttermilk and orange juice in a large measuring cup. Add to the dry ingredients. Stir in the rest of the bran plus the raisin mixture. Cover bowl and refrigerate overnight. Batter will last up to one week in the fridge before baking.

The morning, wipe the sleep from your eyes before preheating the overn to 375 and filling your muffin tins two-thirds before (after spraying each cup with a non-stick spray, of course). Bake 23 to 26 minutes, or until an inserted toothpick emerges crumbless. Let the muffins cool for five minutes in the pan before inverting onto a wire rack. Tad Da!

The beauty of this recipe is that you don’t have to bake the muffins all at once but can keep the batter in the fridge and bake up fresh muffins as you crave them. (Come on, who doesn’t get serious cravings for bran muffins?)