My mother is not a baker. If the main ingredients in a recipe are flour, sugar, and butter, she’ll pass or politely ask someone else to make it. That’s why I found it so funny when Shari’s Berries asked me to pass along this Mother’s Day post featuring baking advice from the mothers of popular food bloggers, including Sally of Sally’s Baking Addiction and Michelle from Brown Eyed Baker. Their mothers impart some great advice–my favorite is “Don’t be afraid to mess up!” from Yossi Arefi’s mom. That’s great advice for life in general.
When I first got into baking, my mom was left scratching her head. She’s a great cook, but baking just frustrates her. How I grew up to be a baker, I don’t know. It’s probably some sort of cosmic middle child joke.
I have seen my mother bake exactly one thing: a classic cherry-pineapple dump cake. Except that my mother, ever a lady, would never serve something called “dump cake.” Instead she takes a tip from her mother, tops it with vanilla ice cream, and calls it “Simply Delicious.” That’s what it is, after all. I guess my mom’s lone piece of baking advice–besides “don’t”–would be that if you don’t like the name of your dessert, change it.
No, my mother is not a baker. But when all is said and done, my mom and I, we’re not so different. For one, we’re both caretakers by nature. We express love in acts of service which, incidentally, is also the form in which we receive love. If you mention to my mom that you are struggling with something, she’ll be right there with you, trying to figure it out. If she perceives that you are overwhelmed, she’ll send you flowers or a goofy card. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t occasionally neglect her own needs and make herself crazy because she’s trying to help someone else–that’s something that her mother did before she did and a habit of mine as well.
Just know that if my mom does you a favor or sends you a gift or calls at 11pm on a Wednesday just because she wants to say hello, it’s because she really values you. And if I make you a pie and put it on the internet for a holiday we can’t even celebrate together, know that it’s because I really value you.
Another way my mother and I are alike? We both prefer fruit desserts over chocolate.* When I started planning what I’d make for my Mother’s Day post, I really thought about what my mom would like to eat. Strawberry rhubarb pie quickly came to mind, with a whole wheat crust, because my mom will take extra nutrition anywhere she can get it, even in dessert.
*Know that my little sister is rolling her eyes as she reads this.
Instead of making pie, something that my mom would literally never attempt, I went for a simple, rustic Strawberry Rhubarb Galette. Free-form pies are definitely my mom’s style. There’s no crimping or anything–just lay the rolled dough on a baking sheet, pile the filling in the middle, and gather it all together with your hands. Bake it for 45 minutes and let it cool before serving.
My mom, a self-proclaimed vanilla person, would insist on a scoop of vanilla ice cream to go with her slice of this sweet-tart classic dessert. I would too. My mom and I–we’re more alike than we are different.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you waaaaay more than chocolate. XOXO
Strawberry Rhubarb Galette
makes 1 galette, 8 servings
2 cups fresh strawberries, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 16 ounces)
1 cup fresh rhubarb, trimmed, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 1-2 stalks)
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
pinch of Kosher or sea salt
4 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 lime)
1/2 recipe Whole Wheat Pie Dough, or other good crust
milk, for brushing
1 tablespoon coarse sugar, for sprinkling (I used turbinado)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
vanilla ice cream, for serving, if desired
Arrange oven racks in the upper and lower positions. Preheat oven to 375F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Set aside.
Combine strawberries and rhubarb in a large mixing bowl. Add sugar, ginger, nutmeg, salt, cornstarch, and lime juice. Stir together with a silicone spatula or wooden spoon and let sit for 15 minutes at room temperature.
Flour a surface and a rolling pin. Roll pie dough out until it is 1/8-inch thick. Trim scraggly edges, if desired. Transfer to prepared pan. Use a slotted spoon to remove strawberry rhubarb filling from the bowl, leaving behind excess liquid. Mound filling in the middle of the dough, leaving at least 2 inches of excess on all sides. Fold dough over the sides of the filling, to contain it. Brush exposed crust with milk and sprinkle with coarse sugar. Dot exposed filling with butter.
Bake galette on the upper rack for 25 minutes. Tent galette with aluminum foil and move to the lower rack. Bake for 20-25 more minutes. Crust will firm up as the galette cools.
Let galette cool completely in the pan on a rack. Remove to a cutting board. Slice and serve with vanilla ice cream, if desired.
Pie will keep covered at room temperature for three days, or in the refrigerator for up to four.
I go to the same coffee place everyday. It’s an institution on Atlantic Avenue–Moon’s Palace. It’s not flashy, and you won’t find any fancy pour-over there, but the owner, known to me as Mr. Moon, makes a solid cup of coffee. I don’t even have to ask for my order anymore–he and his sons know that if its a weekday, I want a large black coffee, and if it’s a weekend, a second large coffee with foamed half-and-half, for Henry. I’ve been going there so frequently for the last three years that we even have a deal during the summer: they keep all their sad-looking overripe bananas for me (instead of tossing them in the garbage), and I buy them at half-price for banana bread. It’s the best deal in town, as far as I’m concerned: twenty-five cent bananas, and I don’t even have to wait for them to ripen! 
But now it’s winter, and ready-made overripe bananas are harder to come by. I went in last week and grabbed a few bananas that were still bright yellow, hoping to make banana bread in about a week. I put them in a paper bag and left them to ripen, but they refused. Sure, they started to turn a little brown in places, but not nearly enough for really good banana bread. Being the impatient, banana bread-deprived woman I was, I resorted to one of those hacks that probably plague your Facebook feed. I placed the bananas on a lined baking sheet, put them in a 250F oven for twenty minutes, and was rewarded with overripe results!
So, now that I’ve played Mother Nature with these bananas, let’s make some banana bread. Whole Wheat Banana Bread, to be exact. Sweet, cinnamon-scented quickbread chock full of bananas and walnuts, with all the nutty goodness of whole wheat. Now, baking with whole wheat flour can be tricky. Since it hasn’t been stripped of the bran and germ like all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour has a grainier texture and higher protein content. Higher protein = more gluten. More gluten = greater potential for tough, dense results. We have to follow a few guidelines to keep this banana bread from being a brick.
1. Measure the flour properly. American baking is notoriously unreliable when it comes to measurements. This isn’t a problem in countries where they bake by weight–100 grams is always 100 grams. In the U.S., though, measuring is a problem. Since we traditionally measure ingredients by volume, there’s no way to know if two people are using exactly the same amount of an ingredient. Some people measure flour by just scooping it with the measuring cup. This doesn’t allow any air into the flour, and can therefore contribute to over-measuring. In cakes and breads, this can lead to things becoming too dense and dry. In cookies, this can lead to toughness and/or cakey results.
3. Add enough moisture. (Warning: I’m about to say “moist” a lot.) In this banana bread, we need a ton of moisture to counteract the density potential from the whole wheat flour. Here, we use oil so our banana bread stays soft and springy. If we used butter, which is around 15% water, our bread would dry out as the water evaporated over time. Also, there’s so much flavor going on between the bananas, cinnamon, and walnuts that we won’t even notice the lack of butter. So, break out the neutral-flavored oil: canola, vegetable, whatever you have. You may also use melted coconut oil. Next comes brown sugar. We use only brown sugar in this recipe because it’s more moist than granulated sugar, thanks to the molasses. After that, two large eggs. The eggs provide moisture, chew, and additional structure. They help the final product to stay soft and moist-crumbed, which is exactly what we want in banana bread. Lastly comes the milk, which is just extra moisture insurance. You may use any milk you like (including buttermilk, almond, oat, soy, etc.), although I do not recommend skim or fat-free cow’s milk. 
e2 bakes brooklyn 