Happy Hanukkah to all those gathering around the first candle tonight.
Two weeks today is Christmas Eve and lights are on our tree but no ornaments yet. A week ago we failed at Hallmark-movie-worthy festivity when the tree lot was largely picked over and surprisingly bare. Fresh Christmas trees are the toilet paper of December 2020 (the irony is not lost). Cheers to my folks who saved the day soon after.
We’re rallying. Thinking about porch drop offs. Tins of cookies and bottles of the eggnog we usually make for parties. I have a day-by-day breakdown of tourtère prep, gift wrapping, and when we’ll drive to see the city lit up with lights.
It’s good. But it’s weird. It’s all weird. There is no use to pretend otherwise. We are trying with these gestures, as everyone has tried, taking small steps in a routine of normalcy. In one moment it is bolstering, and the next it feels like the choreographed motions, and it’s weird.
That tourtière, to back up a bit. Au Pied Du Cochon, of Montréal legend, used to have a pop-up in Toronto each Christmas. They brought a million other things, but it was the frozen tourtières that garnered the greatest fervour. Days beforehand we’d be planning complex systems of who would stand in line, who would deliver, the distribution network, cooler capacity, and inventory checks. It was chaotic madness and I loved it.
Their pies are all you’d ever hope them to be, with a crust that bakes to properly bronze, encasing an unwaveringly savoury filling of pork—both shoulder and ground. I like it with sinus-shocking mustard, either English or Dijon, but ketchup is honestly the classic. (I haven’t made ketchup in ages. Maybe this is the year.)
I will be following their recipe for our Christmas Eve dinner, with more in the freezer for the months to come.
Somehow this project is my anchor. Along with those cookie plans. And hot breakfasts* and watching Elf one night and the Muppet Christmas Carol the next. Two weeks today, see you then, likely full of tourtière.
YOU MIGHT WANT TO MAKE THIS
*Trust when I say, you definitely do. I don’t have to explain baked oatmeal. It doesn’t look at all exciting. Look past that. It turns into something between a cake, a spoon bread, and a muffin top.
Part of the reason of moving to a newsletter was that it felt more spontaneous, more directly tied to my days rather than trend. Baked oatmeal is not trendy. It was on my site on January 22, 2009. (Fun fact, I made that specific batch while dealing with a sinus infection and wrote about how it had offered me comfort, cold from the fridge. I’ll never forget the concern-shaming in the comments as I’d cooked for others while not up-to-the-mark. Ahhh, blogs and the naïveté of 11 years ago.)
Also, I’ve given you an oat-based breakfast already. AND I’m regularly hitting the spice cupboard. But, this is the joy I’m finding in this conversation, the honesty that oatmeal is insulating us against cold mornings and cinnamon has been my way of conjuring seasonal cheer. I like being able to simply share what we found good.
Back to now, and this version. Smash carrot cake and sweet potato pie together in your mind and boom there is the idea of this one. If I had my wherewithal and thought ahead, I would have crumbled Golden Grahams or Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal (God, I love Cinnamon Toast Crunch) on my serving for the full pie effect. It is a spicy, soothing, smushy breakfast that is best spooned out of your favourite bowl, on the couch. Blanket mandatory. And later in the day, when it does firm up, grab a chunky slice and eat it with the chill still on or gently rewarmed. Partnered with coffee or tea it behaves like a baked good, both fluffy and substantial, and ultimately satisfying.
DECEMBER 2020 APPROPRIATE SWEET POTATO BAKED OATMEAL (6 to 8 portions to get you through the next few days)
If you feel compelled, brown 1/4 cup butter. Take a teensy bit of that butter and grease a 8-by-8-inch baking pan or one of similar capacity. (If you didn’t brown the butter, just use some straight from the wrapper.)
In a large bowl, stir together 180 g | 2 cups old fashioned rolled oats, or even better, a mixed grain hot cereal, 113 g | 1 cup chopped pecans or walnuts, 3 tablespoons seeds or whatnot (sesame, pepitas, sunflower, flax, chia, hemp, shredded coconut, wheat germ you get it), 1 teaspoon baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon medium grain kosher salt, 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger, and 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg—honestly I’m not measuring. And, alternatively swap those spices out with 2 teaspoons chai masala (the mix used to season chai) or 1 teaspoon Chinese five spice powder. Grate 1 large, peeled sweet potato over the dry mix, along with a biggish handful chopped, pitted dates or golden raisins, and maybe 1 heaped tablespoons’ worth of minced candied ginger.
Scatter 2 diced bananas across the prepared dish. Tumble in the oat mixture. In the same bowl that up until a moment ago held the cereal, whisk 3 tablespoons of the (browned or not) butter with 1 egg, 67 g | 1/3 cup dark brown sugar and a small pour of vanilla extract. Optional for extra points, finely grate in the zest of a clementine and squeeze in the juice. (Don’t worry, JoAnne, I’ll skip the clementine when we’re able to have friend breakfasts together again.) Once smooth, whisk in 2 cups milk (dairy or alternative, almond is my least favourite and oat the understandable preference). Pour the liquids over the cereals in the pan. Scrunch a handful or two more of nuts over top, and scatter with coarse sugar.
Bake in a 375°F oven until puffed and firm at the centre, 40 to 45 minutes. Serve in a puddle of milk, drizzled with the last of the browned (or not) butter, garnished as exuberantly as the day dictates (for me, this meant granola as I’m about that extra crunch, candied cocoa nibs since I had them kicking about, crushed sesame toffee because same, frozen blueberries defrosted in hot maple syrup, and torched marshmallow fluff … again, it’s December 2020.)
A note: The seedy sprinkle is a guideline rather than a rule; I have a pantry shelf devoted to various jars of such things and basically free pour whatever catches my eye. Go forth and do similarly, with confidence.
Another recipe: Spicy and Crunchy Garlic Tofu. Heck, yes. (The Korean Vegan)
THINGS I WOULD TEXT IF I HAD YOUR NUMBER (THE CLOSEST I GET TO THE GIFT GUIDE THAT HAS BEEN REQUESTED, BUT CAPITALISM. AND LET’S CONSIDER IT, AND MAYBE CALL PEOPLE TOO AND PLAN AN ACT OF SERVICE IN THEIR NAME, AND YES, SOME OF THESE HAVE APPEARED BEFORE BECAUSE I LEGITIMATELY LIKE/USE/BUY THESE THINGS EDITION)
I feel happiest when in possession of an exuberant array of chili condiments. These pair heat with miso (Abokichi); this one nods to the Hakka diaspora of Kolkata (Zing); while this is straight out of Chengdu (Fly by Jing).
These vinegars are bright and bolstering like sunshine. (Brightland)
Is it weird to dream about jam? Because I do. (Ayako and Family)
These glasses for bedside, or for an Old Fashioned. (Our Place)
This hair oil is bliss. (Fable and Mane)
A bowl ideal for noodles. Noodles are high on my hibernation list. (Patrick Yeung via Herriott Grace)
Maximalist earrings are a superpower. (Deepa Gurnani.)
The largest protest in human history is happening in India. Click for ways to stand with the farmers, compiled by Sandy Gill.
New York Times’ Year in Pictures. It’s a lot.
Nikhil Chopra on his occupation of the Met, ownership, and possession.
The legend that is Dapper Dan.