Straight out of the oven at full "puff"

There are certain recipes that catch your eye when have you have children in the house. That is how a certain “Huffy Puffy” entered our kitchen lexicon, with its ability to conjure little pigs and a wolf who might want a…bite. But it has remained a favorite, especially for breakfast, long since anyone around here was little enough to care about the name.

The Huffy Puffy is exactly like a Dutch Baby — a pancake that bears more resemblance to a popover or Yorkshire pudding than a griddlecake. It is thought that the Dutch baby is derived from the German pancake called an apfelpfannkuchen, and that a Seattle restaurant coined the name Dutch baby in the 1920s. It is a simple mixture of eggs, milk, flour and a dash of salt, cooked in a very hot oven. A heavy, ovenproof skillet is useful, especially a cast-iron one. It puffs up into a beautiful, golden cloud that stays puffed for a few minutes but begins to sink as it cools. Serve it immediately for the most crowd-pleasing effect.

Simple ingredients, likely to be on hand

I’ve added cooked bacon to the batter of this huffy puffy (don’t tell the little pigs), which makes it savory and something that can be served in wedges with dinner, even. There are all kinds of ways to vary it. Traditionally, the Dutch baby is served sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar and lemon juice just as it comes out of the oven. We’ve eaten it with syrup, jam, and honey. I’ve also sautéed apples first, and then poured in the batter. The center can be filled with a concoction of vegetables with or without meat, and served as a one-dish meal.

Huffy Puffy with Bacon | makes one

If your eggs are on the small side, cut back slightly on the amount of flour.

5 large eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cup milk
1 1/4 cup unbleached flour
2 slices bacon
1 1/2 tablespoon butter

Preheat the oven to 475°F.

Whisk the eggs in a bowl with the salt. Whisk in the milk and then beat in the flour until the lumps are gone.

Whisk in the milk...

...and then whisk in the flour until smooth

Cook the bacon slices in heavy, ovenproof skillet. Remove, drain and chop.

Make the pieces any size -- I like them somewhat large

Add the bacon to the batter.

I considered adding a little chopped fresh rosemary here, too, right into the batter

Reheat the skillet over medium heat and add the butter to whatever bacon fat is in the pan. When the butter foams up, pour in the batter.

The butter should foam up but not burn

The butter and bacon fat help create a delicious crust on the outside of the huffy puffy

Place immediately into the hot oven and cook, without opening the oven door, for 18 to 20 minutes. The huffy puffy will be deep golden brown and puffy. Serve immediately.

Oh, and please don’t tell the wolf.

Hot from the oven is when it's best

Kelly McCune © 2010

©2010 Kitchenelly. All Rights Reserved.

Really different and really tasty corncakes -- pink does taste good

Every once in a while you eat something you can’t forget. It might be associated with a memory — like Proust’s tea-soaked madeleine, it might be the amazing ginger cookie almost like the one you had on the way home from camp. It might be exotic, like roasted rabbit on a rainy Christmas Day in Italy. The category of food I’m talking about is the thing you can’t forget and mostly can’t find again. A standout in this group is the guava tamale I had seven years ago made by one Eva, who is as elusive as that tamale. I’ve talked about her before, and if I didn’t have a beautiful picture of her I would think I’d made her up.

Most tamales have a savory filling, and that holiday we ordered a number of those from Eva. But she included a dozen sweet tamales, most of the guava variety. Her tamales were perfect — light, almost soufflé-like masa, and just the right proportion of filling. What was striking was how good guava tasted with corn. It was a perfect match, it seemed to me. But then Eva was no longer selling her tamales in my neighborhood, and I couldn’t find her anywhere.

A year or two later, on a trip to Mexico, I asked everywhere we went for a guava tamale. Mostly I got perplexed looks, with maybe a response like, “I think they make those up North (or down South or in Guadalajara).” I have continued to look for that flavor combination, never thinking I could do it myself.

Then, the other day, I picked up some produce from a local homestead farm owned by the Dervais family called Path to Freedom Modern Urban Homestead. Cool, huh? I’ll talk more about the Dervais homestead later, because I plan to buy much, much more produce from them. But in my box were a couple of pounds of guavas, along with some other interesting vegetables not normally offered at the supermarket.

The items in my Path to Freedom homestead farm box

I immediately created a reality TV challenge for myself: I will make something out of every fruit and vegetable in my box, including that weird squash. But I started with the guavas. I thought of those tamales, and since I’m not a tamale maker (it’s really a big job, best when there’s a group of folks in mass-production mode) I thought of pancakes made with cornmeal. I was quite prepared to go through with cooking them knowing that they might be awful. Well, I’m writing more than a couple of paragraphs about it, right? It must have been a truly Proustian experience, yes?

A Little Guava Info: Guavas are so aromatic when ripe, it’s like having flowers in your kitchen. I don’t think there is anything quite like them. The variety I used here has green skin and pink flesh. I don’t know the variety (perhaps it was a ‘Ruby’ but there are dozens of cultivars), but the flesh of a guava can be pink like these or white, cream, yellow or deep red. The skin can be somewhat bitter and tough if underripe, but guavas are certainly eaten raw. Some people like to peel them first, to avoid the skin. Other folks dislike the tiny but edible seeds (up to 500! in some varieties) in the center of the flesh. The seeds can be scooped out — they are tiny but hard. Guava makes a great jelly because of its high sugar content, and guava paste, an intense and sweetened essence of guava, can be purchased in specialty stores and is primarily used in desserts.

Guava Corncakes | 12 to 14 corncakes

4 ripe guavas
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup unbleached white flour
1/2 cup medium grind cornmeal
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon butter, plus more for the pan
1 egg
3/4 cup milk

Trim the stem and flower end off the guavas, halve, and scoop out the pulp containing the seeds.

Peel away the green skin. If the skin on your guavas is flavorful and tender, leave it on. You’ll just be adding a little more color to the corncakes.

The seeds are edible, but a little too hard -- you keep finding them in your teeth

Don't worry if you don't get every last spot of green -- the skin is usually flavorful

Slice the guava into chunks, add 1 tablespoon of the sugar, and mash it to a pulp.

Do your smashing on a plate

A fork is fine for mashing the tender guava flesh

Agreed -- it's not beautiful at the moment

Mix the flour, cornmeal, baking soda, salt, and remaining 1 tablespoon of sugar in a bowl.

I have a specific wooden spoon that I use for all sweet mixures -- nothing savory or oily touches this spoon

Melt the butter in a measuring cup (I do this in the microwave) and beat in the egg.

The protein (egg) binds with the fat (butter) to make a smooth mixture before mixing in anything else

Add the milk and mashed guava and blend together. Pour this into the flour mixture and stir until the ingredients are combined. Don’t overmix.

Little flecks of pink and green are the guava in the batter

Heat a large skillet or griddle over medium-high heat and melt a small pinch of butter. Spoon the batter onto the hot griddle and cook corncakes until bubbly on top and drying on the edges.

Don't crowd the pan -- it's easier to flip them if they're not touching

Corncakes should be nice and brown on both sides and slightly puffy

The Husband liked his guava corncakes with cinnamon sugar but for me, a little syrup was just the thing. Honestly, they’re good plain, and if you close your eyes you could be eating a tamale.

©2010 Kitchenelly. All Rights Reserved.