So You Have Your Starter...: Sourdough Hot Cakes

It makes no sense to find or make a sourdough starter and just use it for one recipe. It's not that it takes expensive ingredients -- it doesn't -- or great skill or huge amounts of time, it's just that, like the never-ending Amish Friendship Bread, if you're going to go to the trouble, might as well get the most out of it. And who doesn't like hotcakes? Let's go to Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' for another starter-using recipe:

Sourdough Hotcakes

Sourdough Hotcakes, the main breakfast dish of prospectors, miners, and oldtime Alaskans, differ from other hotcakes in that the patter is leavened with a yeast starter and soda. The starter must be set the night before it is to be used. Some Alaskans are still using a starter traced back to an original starter brought into the country with the gold rush. To them the sourdough pot is a prized possession.

Measurements are not precise. If you prefer a thin pancake, you will add another egg or a bit more water. Of course, for a thicker cake, the batter should be thicker. At the time of baking, the batter for sourdough should be the same consistency as the batter for other hotcakes that are family favorites.

Sourdough Hotcakes for three persons: Set aside 1/2 cup sponge in the refrigerator jar for your sourdough starter for the next time. To remaining sponge, add:

1 or 2 eggs
1 tbsp. oil
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. soda dissolved in 1 tbsp. water
1 tbsp. sugar

Beat with a fork and blend in all ingredients. If you like, add several tbsp. of non-fat dry milk powder to any of the sourdough recipes at this point. Add soda/water mixture just before baking. Bake on a hot griddle. Turn once. Serve with a mixture of hot brown sugar syrup, or honey and melted butter. Molasses, jelly or rose hip syrup are other tasty combinations.

For interesting variations add 1/2 cup whole wheat flour, cornmeal, wheat germ or bran flakes to the batter. (Two eggs will provide the liquid for this addition).

Oregon guilt: I feel silly having to say that "soda" here means "baking soda" and not "soda pop." Why is that Oregon guilt? Because I never called soda pop "soda" until I moved to the East Coast 18 years ago; it was always just "pop."

I wonder a bit why they don't suggest maple syrup. I mean, I know that maple syrup is generally thought of as an East Coast or Midwest thing, but the brown sugar mentioned isn't exactly native to Alaska. I am also skeptical about adding bran flakes to the batter -- I don't want cereal in my hotcakes, thank you very much.

What do I want in my pancakes? Crumbled bacon. Or blueberries and chocolate chips. And butter is a necessity, not just an option to be paired solely with honey.

Not Just A Colorful Term For Prospectors: Sourdough Blackberry Cobbler

I mentioned at the start of the week that "sourdough" meant "Alaskan old timer." That's true, of course, but we can't forget the tasty origin of that word. Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' has a whole chapter on actual sourdough recipes. All of them require that you have a sourdough starter -- if anyone out there doesn't have one, or doesn't know about the care and feeding of one, chime in, and I'll post something to help you out. As we wrap up the week, I'd like to focus on some sourdough:

Sourdough Blackberry Cobbler

1 1/2 cups starter
2 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 cup shortening
Blackberry filling

Put the flour into large bowl. Stir 1 tsp. salt into the flour. Cut 1/2 cup shortening into the flour until it resembles coarse cornmeal. Ad the starter while stirring with a wooden spoon. Work all the flour and batter together until it is one big ball of dough. Divide the dough into two parts, one of which is a little larger than the other. Roll the larger half into a rectangle about 12x16-in. and line a 9x13x2-in. baking pan with it. The pan does not need to be greased. Pour in your favorite blackberry filling. Roll remaining dough into a 9x13-in. rectangle and cut slits in it as you would a pie crust. Place this on top of the filling. Moisten the edges of the top crust and then fold the lining crust over the moistened edges. Bake at 375°F for 30 minutes or until brown. You may use cherry, apple, peach or other fillings which make good cobblers.

First off, I'm not sure I'd call this a cobbler. It has a top and bottom crust, both of which together completely encompass the filling. In my book, that makes this a PIE. Pie is a good thing. Pie is a nigh-on sacred thing. But it is PIE, not COBBLER.

Also, I'm just about as horrified as can be by the ingredient list. "Blackberry filling"? "Blackberry filling"?!?!? Please. Promise me if you do this, you'll use fresh berries. Sprinkle them with sugar, mash them a bit, and let them sit long enough to have some nice juices come out. But... don't use "blackberry filling."

You'll be so much happier if you use fresh.

Egg Safety? Bah! Mt. Miller Chocolate Cheese Pie

I'm off tonight to a place where I can get a deep fried Mars bar. Thinking about it has me in a chocolate-y mood, which means this recipe from Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' has been bumped up from Friday to today:

Mt. Miller Chocolate Cheese Pie

1 pkg. (6-oz.) semi-sweet chocolate
1 pkg. (8-oz.) cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs, separated
1 cup heavy cream, whipped
9 in. chilled graham cracker crust

Melt chocolate over hot (not boiling) water, then cool about 10 minutes. Blend cream cheese, 1/2 cup of the brown sugar, salt and vanilla. Beat in egg yolks, one at a time. Beat in cooled chocolate and blend well. Beat egg whites until stiff but not dry. Gradually beat the remaining 1/4 cup sugar, beat until stiff and glossy. Fold chocolate mixture into beaten whites. Fold in whipped cream. Pour into chilled crust and chill overnight. Makes 8 servings.

Aaaah, the glorious days before every recipe and menu warned of food safety! There's raw eggs in here. RAW EGGS! They are not heated. They are not acidulated. They are raw.

Golly, this sounds like a yummy pie.

Semantically, I'm wondering why this recipe uses what I'd consider the standard plural-or-singular abbreviation of "ounce" -- 6 oz. and 8 oz. -- and other recipes use "ozs." as the plural. It's not a community cookbook, so it shouldn't be an artifact of different family styles...

Oh, and I never melt my chocolate over water on the stove these days. So much easier to do it in the microwave!

Bad Titles Work, Too: Valdez Clam and Onion Soup

Sometimes, recipe choice is all about a good title. Sometimes, though, it's the really bad title that wins the day. My sister told me that if I focused on an Alaskan cookbook, I'd have to post a salmon dish; I knew I needed to post a fish dish of some sort, and went hunting. Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' has plenty of salmon dishes, it's true, but nothing quite to compare with this:

Valdez Clam and Onion Soup

2 cans (7 ozs.) minced clams (1 pint)
4 slices bacon, sliced
3 cups onion rings
3 cups milk
1/2 tsp. celery salt
1/2 tsp. salt
6 slices hard toast
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (optional)

Fry bacon; add onion and cook until tender. Combine milk, seasonings and clams; heat. Place toast in 6 individual, heated soup bowls. Cover with onion rings and top with clam mixture. Sprinkle with cheese and serve immediately. Serves 6.

Now, Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' was printed 13 years before the Exxon Valdez spilled oil all over the Prince William Sound, but I'm here to tell you, there's no way I can hear "Valdez" and not think "horrible oil spill." Combine "Valdez" with "bivalve shell fish" and I'm going to think it's all a horrible, twisted joke. Who'd want to eat a filter-feeder named after pollution gone wild?

...the recipe itself sounds tasty, though.

edit So, it was pointed out to me that my trying to puzzle out the "what kind of onion rings do they mean" issue was pretty pointless -- use raw, as you're cooking them up in bacon fat. That being said, let's use canned, crispy, fried onion products as a garnish, like you'd put on top of a green bean casserole if you were any of the hordes of community cookbook contributors whose efforts line my shelves./edit

Looks like an easy recipe to cut in half (in some cases, thirds -- take only 2 pieces of hard toast, not 3) to make 2 large meal-sized servings.

The Power Of A Good Title; Forget-Me-Not Moose Bologna

I sit down at the start of the Take One Cookbook week and flag all the recipes for the week. I try to get a balance of different types of dishes, signature recipes, funny asides, etc. Sometimes, a recipe gets picked just on the power of a good title.

For example, on pages 34 and 35 of Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin', I could choose Good Luck Pickled Deer Tongue, Frontier Jellied Moose Nose, Land of the Midnight Sun Muskrat, Roast Alaskan Venison Supreme, Oil Capital Barbecued Reindeer Burgers, or today's pick:

Forget-Me-Not Moose Bologna

12 lbs. moose meat
1 pound suet
1 1/2 ozs. black pepper
1 oz. salt
3/4 oz. coriander
1/2 oz. mace

Grind moose meat. Add spices and mix well. Some water may be added to aid in mixing. Pack ground meat down in a pan and leave in refrigerator overnight. Grind through grinder again, using smaller cutter. Mix and grind once more. Stuff into casings. Boil in water until sausage floats. Hang up to dry.

Yes, the Forget-Me-Not Moose Bologna wins! It is a rare/exotic meat, an unexpected presentation, and... it's cute! Jellied moose nose seems just a bit too far gone from something I'd ever want on a sandwich, but not the (moose) bologna. Thirteen pounds of meat and meat products, less than one cup of seasoning! I assume the coriander is coriander seed, not fresh coriander/cilantro.

I don't know how many casings you'll need for this; it's not listed in the ingredients, and I suspect that the author assumes anyone already making his or her own sausage will have an intuitive sense of how many casings are needed for any given amount of force meat. Also in my list of assumptions: they mean natural sausage casings, not artificial.

I've never had moose. I do remember fondly my dad's venison summer sausage. Thinly sliced, and served with crackers and sliced Tillamook... mmmm. Perfect cold dinner or snack.

Alaska Sweet Sea Pickles; Pickled Kelp, That Is

I'm a fan of almost anything pickled or preserved (I draw the line at pickled fish products -- I may have Icelandic blood in me, but I can't get behind the pickled fish...). My maternal grandfather (the handsome devil in the picture here) had an incredible garden, and my paternal grandmother had next to no room for a garden but still managed to grow cucumbers and dill sufficient enough to keep the family in pickles for years and years. Pickling is frugal and sensible -- put away tasty, healthy fruits and veg to be used when there's nothing fresh to be had. No surprise, then, to find pickle recipes in Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin'.

Alaska Sweet Sea Pickles

4 lbs. bulb kelp
1 cup salt
2 gallons water
1/2 tsp. alum
3 1/2 cup sugar
1 pint white vinegar
1/2 tsp. oil of cloves*
1/2 tsp. oil of cinnamon*
2 quarts water

Cut kelp in 12-in. lengths and split bulbs. Remove dark surface layer with a vegetable parer. Soak kelp in a brine solution (1 cup salt to 2 gallons water) for 2 hours. Care must be taken to keep kelp covered with brine. Remove kelp from brine and wash thoroughly with cold water. Cut kelp into 1-in. cubes and soak in alum solution (1/2 tsp. alum to 2 qts. cold water) for 15 minutes. Drain and wash in cold water: drain again. Place kelp in enamel kettle and cover with boiling water. Cook only until kelp can be pierced with a fork. Drain.

Combine sugar, vinegar, and oils; boil 2 minutes; pour over cooked kelp. Let stand overnight in the enamel kettle or a crock. In the morning, drain off and save the syrup; reheat kelp to boiling point. Pour syrup back over the kelp and allow to stand 24 hours. The third morning, heat both kelp and syrup to the boiling point; seal immediately in hot sterilized jars. Makes 3 pints.

* When oil of cinnamon or cloves are used, kelp cubes remain clear and almost transparent. A small amount of green food coloring may be used to make a brighter product. If whole spices are used, tie them in a small bag.

This sounds interesting, and, yes, even tasty. I don't think I'd use it for my favorite pickle dish (peanut butter and pickle sandwiches ... yum!), but can see having it with grilled fish or chicken. Methow Valley Herbs has more direct experience with using kelp pickles, and also has tips on how to harvest it.

Chefly Husband expressed some surprise over pickled kelp; I told him it was the bulbs, and then I remembered that I'm an Oregon Coast transplant, whereas he's a Lake Michigan transplant -- his childhood didn't involve kelp washed up on shore.

Most pickle recipes these days won't include alum; it was used to crisp up less-than-perfect vegetables. In my household, growing up, alum served an entirely different purpose: Momma put it in our homemade play dough to make sure we wouldn't eat it. Generally speaking, I'd say "skip the alum, if you like;" however, I think of kelp as not-exactly-crisp, so if you have access to alum, I'd use it. The folks at Methow Valley Herbs suggest that you can use grape leaves instead, which sounds like a worthy substitute.

Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin', by Herb Walker; Alaskan Roast Beaver

You have to love a book that was meant to be mailed, on its own, without an envelope. Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' by Herb Walker, was meant to be bought by tourists, and mailed home from the 49th state. It's another 1970s book -- 1976, bicentennial, to be precise -- but hopefully different enough in style and content from last week's book that no one will mind.

"Sourdough" in the title doesn't refer so much to the leavening and flavoring (though there is a section on all things sourdough-y) as it does to old-timers -- the prospectors, the miners, the transplants to Alaska who took root and thrived, in spite of the isolation. A lot of the recipes here are simply-seasoned -- an onion or two, or perhaps a clove of garlic -- and rely on extremely local ingredients. Not hard to see why; there was only one regular highway into the state in 1976, and one "marine highway," so supplies had to be local, or brought in by boat or plane. Far easier to use what was near, or could be grown and kept in the Alaskan extreme seasons.

Alaskan Roast Beaver

Get all the fat you can off of the beaver carcass. The fat is what gives a beaver the strong, wild taste. To remove strong taste put 1 tsp. baking soda in a quart of water and parboil beaver for about 20 minutes. Take beaver out of the pot and dry off well and rinse in clear, cold water. Season with salt and pepper. Slice 3 or 4 small onions and place around beaver and roast in a 350°F oven until it is done and tender.

I've had my fair share of exotic game in my life, but never had beaver. I don't know the proper final temperature for roast beaver, nor does this recipe give us any clue how long it will take to get it "done and tender." So, to the internet! Turns out that most young beavers take about 2 hours to roast. Good to know. Also good to know: it tastes like roast goose, supposedly.

For those on the more squeamish side when it comes to exotic meats, know that I will not be blogging the whale or seal recipes. Even I get squeamish when it comes to cooking marine mammals.