Scallion pancakes

When I write posts for this blog I usually try to stick to my theme of "easy" to prepare foods that can be created in a relatively short time. Sometimes I include something that is easy to make but might require a bit more time. That may be the case for today's offering. It wasn't really very hard to do, but it wasn't quick, and it wasn't something I'd whip up after a hard day of work. Maybe I'd do it on a leisurely weekend when I had some time to play with my food.

The recipe comes from a Chinese cooking class that my husband and I recently attended. The version I offer here uses half whole grain flour instead of the all-purpose flour used in class, and in my version, the nutty-wheaty taste and texture of the flour has a presence that was missing in the class version. If you prefer a lighter, more authentic taste, I suggest you substitute 2-1/8 cups unbleached white or all purpose flour for the flour mix I list. The pancakes tasted great, so if you're used to whole grains, go with this version.

The scallion pancakes the teacher demonstrated were really delicious, and though a bit oily, they were much less greasy than the ones we had at a Chinese restaurant in Seattle, which were probably deep fried. But, I think the pancakes are meant to be a little oily. My first attempt was so oil-phobic that they lost some of their essential character. The amount of oil is so small, I think it would be better to just use the oil and enjoy the taste.

Scallion pancakes

• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour (stir before measuring) (see above story)
• 1 cup unbleached white flour (stir before measuring)
• 4 ounces boiling water
• about 2 ounces cold water
• 4–6 scallions, white and green parts—slice each scallion lengthwise, then mince finely
• toasted sesame oil
• salt to taste
• oil for the pan (peanut is traditional) and oil to brush or spray directly onto the pancakes

1. Mix the two flours together on a board.

2. Make a well in the center and add the boiling water. Flip and scrape the flour around with a dough scraper or spatula to incorporate the flour and water. (Be very careful about not using your hands here, as the water and forming dough will be burning hot. It will quickly become cool enough to handle and you can start using your hands at that point.)



3. When all the water is incorporated, gradually add the cold water until you have a flexible, kneadable dough. Don't make the dough too stiff. Knead the dough until, as our teacher says, you have the three shinings. (1) Your hands are clean of sticking dough, (2) the board is clean and (3) the dough is shiny. (I'd say, "more or less" shiny.) Step 3 takes about 5 minutes.

4. Cover the dough with a damp cloth and let it rest 20 minutes. Or more. After its rest, cut the dough into 2 sections and wrap 1 of them in the damp towel. Roll the other into a rectangle that is about 1/8" – 3/16" thick, and about 6" x 9". Brush toasted sesame oil (or spread with your fingers) all over the dough. Use 1 teaspoon. Cover with minced scallions and sprinkle with salt (1/4 teaspoon).



5. Roll into a log shape starting with the long end. Then coil the log into a spiral, tucking the last end underneath.

6. Pat the coil into a flattened round, and then roll into a round pancake about 1/8" thick, with your rolling pin. Be gentle, as the dough may have a tendency to rip around the scallions and oil. Try to roll to the edge rather than over it, as much as you can. If you roll over the edge, the pancake may break and some of the oil will ooze out. This is probably unavoidable to some extent, and is OK.

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7. Heat the pan and coat lightly with oil. Spray the pancake with oil. Use a wide spatula to ease the pancake up and into the pan, sprayed side down, then spray the top side of the pancake.



8. Fry over low heat, flipping a couple of times, until both sides turn golden with patches of deep color. Cook the pancake slowly, over low heat so it doesn't burn before the inside cooks. (about 10 minutes) If you prefer, you can use a non-stick pan and cook the pancake in a light coating of oil. Peanut oil is traditional, but I used canola to spray the pan and the pancake. I tried both types of pans and thought the pancake came out better in the cast iron.

9. Drain on a paper towel if desired. Cut into 8 or 12 triangles (like pizza) and eat immediately. Repeat with the other dough section.

Note: I made these pancakes so many times to get the recipe right, that just the thought of eating anymore is making me weak. I learned a few things, though. The first dough I made (not included here) was a little tough. It was a larger recipe and more than we could handle in one day, so I stored the leftover dough in the refrigerator overnight. When I made a pancake the next day, it was much lighter and more tender. Really good, actually. So, you could probably make the dough a day ahead and roll and fry them when needed. I used a mix of white whole wheat and unbleached flour but decided to switch to whole wheat pastry flour for the second batch. I think I made the first batch too stiff, so I added a little more water to the second batch, and it worked much better; not enough to require adding flour for kneading, but enough to produce a softer dough.

Norman's chickpea snack

At a recent cooking class we made a chickpea snack that involved cooking, baking, frying and heavily seasoning chickpeas with cayenne and salt. The result was tasty, but it reminded me of a simpler and less salty and oily chickpea snack that my father used to make.

My mother believed that a good breakfast was eggs and bacon or cereal and milk, lunch was a tuna or egg salad sandwich, and dinner included meat and a salad and sometimes a frozen or canned vegetable like string beans or peas. My father didn't like chicken or fish so we had those things on nights he wasn't home for dinner. Meals rarely deviated from this formula unless we pleaded for spaghetti or for my father to make one of his two or three dishes. My mother seemed to have an aversion to legumes and noodles. Occasionally my father would become nostalgic for something his mother had made when he was a boy (my mother would become very annoyed) and might venture into the kitchen. He missed whole grain bread (!) and other "exotic" foods from his youth like chickpeas and macaroni. We ate white bread at our house and my mother would proclaim whole grain breads to be "horrible," but I was intrigued. I liked the things my father cooked. I was tired of meat. Chickpeas were interesting, and I happily ate them.



When I left home and moved to another city, I visited the local farmer's market out of curiosity, and my eyes were opened to the wonders of the vegetable world. "What's this?" I would ask as I held a zucchini aloft. "That's a zucchini," the bemused farmer would answer. "What do you do with it," I'd inquire. With a chuckle, the patient farmer and his wife would give me a cooking lesson. I think I learned to cook at the farmer's market.

When my husband and I became vegetarians, my parents were alarmed. When we chose to raise our children as vegetarians they were horrified, but as they watched these beautiful, healthy children grow, their fears subsided. And as they ate at our house and hosted us at theirs, their attitude towards food changed, and they became much more open and adventurous in their cooking and eating habits. Chickpeas became one of my mother's favorite foods to cook for us when we visited. Now, here I am presenting a vegan food that I learned to cook from my father!



My father's chickpea snack
Rinse and drain two cups of canned or home-cooked chickpeas. In a cast iron or other heavy skillet, heat two tablespoons of olive oil and add the chick peas. Sprinkle generously with paprika. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the chick peas start to brown and get a little crispy. (about 10 minutes) Remove from the heat, drain on a paper towel if you wish, and sprinkle with a little salt and lots of freshly ground pepper, or, as always, with the seasonings of your choice.

A funny thing: I cooked the chickpeas and my husband and I were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying them and reminiscing about my late father and my grandmother when I suddenly shreiked, "STOP!." We'd made a considerable dent in the beans when I remembered I'd prepared them for the blog, and I'd forgotten to take a photo. So the photo you see is only some of the chickpeas—there were more.

note: To cook chickpeas in a pressure cooker: Sort and wash the beans. Place in the pressure cooker and add water to about two inches above the beans. Bring to pressure then turn off the burner. Let the beans sit for an hour. (You can let them sit longer if your schedule requires it.) Add more water and bring to pressure again and cook for one hour. When the pressure comes down, the beans should be cooked. The liquid that remains can be used to make excellent soup stock or to cook rice or other grains.