Tag Archives: nuts

Brown Butter Pecan Shortbread Cookies with a Bourbon and Brown Butter Glaze…whew!

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Early to bed, early to rise.  I am an early riser.  Often I awaken in darkness and have some version of the following conversation with myself.  “If I get up now I can pull some butter and cream cheese out of the refrigerator to soften on the counter while I have my coffee.  Am I going to even use the butter and cream cheese?  And I can look through some cookbooks for inspiration.  Do I have any eggs?  What was it I ran out of and was supposed to get at the store?  Did I remember to get it?”  Wide awake I grab the clock to learn it’s 4:17 in the morning.  Ugh.  I lie in bed as long as I can and then that’s it.  I have to get up…have to.  It’s still too early to wake the household with my banging about, but I WILL quietly pad to the kitchen, prepare the morning coffee and mull over what it is I want to cook or bake.  The morning is deliciously dark, the kitchen hushed and still.  It is an exquisite peace, well worth leaving 1200 thread count sheets.  No phones ringing, no dog barking, too early for music, my thoughts silently bounce around my noggin with the speed of a crazy ball.  This morning I focused on pecans.  And butter.  Brown butter.  And cookies.  With a glaze.  More brown butter.  Rum?  Uh-uh…too harsh.  Bourbon, yeah, bourbon.  A bourbon and brown butter glaze.  Bingo.  I know what I want to do with the morning.  Pecans mean autumn to me as does brown butter.  I pull out books, pens, recipes and notebooks.  My coffee sits on the window sill of the kitchen as I settle into the window box to sip and see what I can come up with.  I know everyone’s excited about pumpkin right now but I just can’t.  I’m sorry.  I’m already over and done with all the pumpkin.  Pumpkin lattes, coffee cake, Rice Krispy treats, cinnamon rolls and snickerdoodles.  Maybe sometime I’ll bake off some pumpkin bread but that’s it for pumpkin.  Maybe some soup, too.  However, pecans?  Georgia pecans?  Oh, hell yes.  Pecans say college ball, the occasional lit fireplace, short days and cool nights.  Pecans say gumbo parties, your favorite boots, cashmere, apples and no bad hair days.  The result of all this is a cookie that will blow your cozy, autumnal socks off.  The glaze is not at all boozy but a warm, soft blanket of icing with the deep, smooth flavor of butter hinting towards bourbon .  The cookie is ever so slightly crisp at the edge becoming chewy, salty and buttery with the joyous meeting of sweet pecan to tastebud.  Good Lord, but they were good!  I say were because I had to get them out of the house.  Too much temptation for this girl.

I was a fool for these cookies. Something about that sweet, salty combination.
I was a fool for these cookies. Something about that sweet, salty combination.

It’s an easy cookie but because the butter is melted when browned, the dough is best chilled overnight.  I put together my dough in the afternoon and bake the cookies off the following morning up to a day later.  I bake them for exactly 12 minutes because I have a “hot” oven.  I need to buy a new oven thermometer and calibrate it but until that happens I’ll just keep a watchful eye on what’s baking.  Also, with holiday baking right around the corner, I strongly urge you to pick up a pack of parchment paper.  I find the packs at food warehouses and Michael’s craft store also sells it.  The packs are by far easier to use rather than the parchment paper rolls sold in boxes.  The edges of the boxed paper curl uncontrollably back to their boxed form.  Plus I believe the packages are infinitely cheaper.  To form the cookies I used a medium cookie scoop which holds 1 1/2 tablespoons.  I packed the dough in generously with a bit extra spilling out.

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Brown Butter Pecan Shortbread Cookies with Brown Butter Bourbon Icing

Dough:

  • 1 cup (2 sticks) butter
  • 1 cup light brown sugar
  • 1 cup dark brown sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
  • 2 1/2 cup toasted pecans (400° for 7 minutes), roughly chopped
  • 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder

Bourbon Brown Butter Glaze:

  • 1/4 cup butter
  • 1/4 cup bourbon
  • 1 cup confectioner’s sugar
  • Extra pecan halves for decoration, optional
  1. In a large, heavy bottomed pot brown the butter over medium heat.  Stir continuously and briskly to ensure even browning.  It will foam up and begin to brown from the center of the pot.  Continue stirring until the butter turns a dark brown.  Allow to cool 10-15 minutes off the heat.
  2. Pour browned butter into a large bowl and add both brown sugars. Mix to combine then add eggs and vanilla.  Mix well.
  3. In a separate bowl combine flour, salt and baking powder.  Stir to combine.
  4. Add toasted, chopped pecans to brown butter/sugar mixture and stir well.
  5. Add flour mixture to the wet pecan mixture and beat until all ingredients are well incorporated.
  6. Transfer dough to plastic wrap, shape into a ball, wrap well and chill the dough in the refrigerator until hard and set.  I find overnight is best.
  7. When dough has chilled sufficiently pre-heat oven to 350° and line your baking sheets with parchment paper.
  8. Using a medium cookie scoop, cut out dough and place on parchment lined baking sheets.  12 mounds per sheet works best.
  9.  Cover the bottom of a smooth meat pounder, salad plate or small flat-bottomed bowl with plastic wrap and press down on each ball of dough so that it measures about 2 1/2″ in diameter.
  10. Bake for 12 minutes.  Check the bottom of a cookie for browning and if further baking is needed return to oven checking every 2 minutes.  These cookies firm up on top once out of the oven so take care not to over bake.
  11. Cool on baking sheet for 3-4 minutes then transfer to cooling rack until completely cool.

Bourbon Brown Butter Glaze

  1. Place glazing butter in a small heavy bottomed pot and melt over medium heat.
  2. Remove from heat when the butter is dark brown.
  3. Carefully, because it will pop and splatter, pour in bourbon and stir vigorously.  The alcohol will burn off but you’ll still be left with that caramel like bourbon flavor.
  4. Stir in confectioner’s sugar and continue stirring until the glaze is smooth and there are no lumps of sugar.
  5. If the glaze is too thick add milk, water or bourbon one teaspoonful at a time taking care not to make it too runny as you’ll spread the glaze with the back of a spoon.
  6. Spread one teaspoonful of glaze over each cookie using the back of the spoon to swirl it around and cover the top of the cookie.
  7. Finish each cookie with one perfect pecan halve pressed into glaze.

http://www.theirreverentkitchen.com

 

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Liquid Liberty and Dessert

With the Fourth of July right around the corner I enjoy letting my mind wander to Fourths of the past.  Children crying because they’re scared of sparklers or the noise of fireworks.  Or the sound those same children make when they hurl themselves into the pool screaming, “canonbaaaaaal!!!”  The Fourth of July is a fabulous excuse for drinking waaay too much especially with our heat here in South Florida.  Grilled corn on the cob with butter and cayenne pepper, low and slow smoked ribs with a fiery dipping sauce, an ice-cold watermelon with the neck of a bottle of superior vodka thrust into it slowly being soaked up to make a grown up indulgence, cool but spicy Mississippi Caviar redolent with chopped pickled jalapenos and Vidalia onions, creamy, smooth baked Cheese Grits that makes the perfect bite when it runs into the Mississippi Caviar juices.  I could just go on and on. (Clearly, Alicia!)  We say to ourselves,  “It’s once a year!  A treat!  I never do this!”, and about two or three weeks later we’re all doing it again!!  Hell, it’s summertime!!  It’s what we do.  Many years ago, when Jimmy and I were dating, we had a most superb Fourth.  Jimmy had an apartment on Hendricks Isle.  99 Hendricks Isle.  Dad was thrilled when he found out. “Heeey, Jim!! Yeah!!  You know whose number’s 99, don’t you?  Yeah! Wayne Gretsky!’  From then on we referred to Jimmy’s apartment as “the Wayne Gretsky apartment”.  “Where ya goin’?”  “The Wayne Gretsky apartment.”  “Okay.  Don’t be late.”  I don’t remember the year but we were dating so it had to be at least 24 or 25 years ago.  Jimmy’s apartment was old Florida fabulous.  Just about all his friends he had met on Hendricks.  They all lived on boats, had that “devil-may-care” outlook and seemed terribly exotic to a serious Bostonian.  They didn’t wear shoes.  His neighbors were past quirky.  They were completely harmless but outlandish and unbelievably odd.  One neighbor worked as a short-order cook at a historic Las Olas greasy-spoon by day and played drag queen by night. Still wearing bits of makeup from the night before, this particular neighbor sold very small amounts of a certain “herb”, hand wrote the sale up on a receipt book and finished by ringing the sale up on an old-fashioned cash register.  While blasting “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” on his RECORD PLAYER.  Anyway, that particular Fourth of July Jimmy had invited my family over to his apartment for a cookout and some Liquid Liberty.  We made pitchers and pitchers of Long Island Iced Tea and put them on to chill.  His apartment was on the water, a canal and his back patio was nothing less than wonderful.  The patio was terrazzo and featured a Pawley’s Island hammock hung right in the path of the salt breezes.  What made me fall in love with that man, or ONE of the reasons, was the most magnificent, sprawling mango trees you have ever laid your eyes on.  It was always heavy with fruit, giving off that sweet, decadent perfume bordering on wicked and wrong.  It was probably a mango that Eve bit into in the Garden of Eden.  Not some room temperature, mealy, Red Delicious sorry-excuse-for-an-apple.  No.  It had to be a beautiful silken, sensuous mango.  That’s not why I married him but I DID love that tree.  We made some hors d’oeuvre, I remember he flambeed some Kaseri cheese which we served with warm pita.  But, primarily, we all got tanked.  Remember, Long Island Iced Tea was flowing.  There was plenty of laughter and teasing, we had the television on with Arthur Fiedler conducting the Boston Pops.  The more Jimmy drank the more sentimental he became.  And he missed Boston.  A great deal.  Yankees have feelings, too.  So, like any homesick boy, he called home.  By then my parents had made their goodbyes, Mama probably singing “Yellowbird”, the song she always sang when she got a little tipsy.  Tommy, Pamela and I were having a grand time marching around the apartment, drinks in hand, WHISTLING to Stars and Stripes Forever.  Jimmy called his sister’s house, the nucleus of the family, and reached his mother.  Many were the stories he had told me of his mother’s sacrifices and hardships after his father had died.  A widow who spoke no English and raised four children.  All four completed their undergraduate work.  All four got their master’s.  And one his PhD.  Bravo, Yiayia!  She answered the phone, her tiny voice matching her tiny body.  With the 1812 Overture rising in the background Jimmy asked his mother of her journey to America, was it terribly hard?  How could you leave your family to go so far, far away?  How was it that you made it unscathed?  I stopped marching and whistling when I heard the emotion in his voice and saw his eyes filling with tears. With his voice cracking, I heard him ask, “Ma!  How did you feel when you finally made it in to New York Harbor and saw the Statue of Liberty?  What was it like to see that symbol, that symbol of liberty after the long, hard crossing?”  “O gios mou”, “my son”, she said, “I never saw the statue.  We were below at the Captain’s champagne reception!!”  Hahaaa!!  The whistling and marching started up again with Stars and Stripes cranked!!  I guess Yiayia had her taste of Liquid Liberty, too!!  So, as always, I’ll be thinking of all those special, courageous people who left their motherland behind to forge a new place for their soon-to-be sons and daughters.  We thank you.  And may we light you a sparkler and raise you a glass??

This is such a terrific summer dessert! It’s great to serve at your own house or take to a party.  It can be assembled days in advance and kept in frozen limbo until you need it.  The ice cream flavors are completely up to you as well as any cookie crumbles you wish to use.  If you like nuts, use them.  If not, lose them!  Also, the whipped topping can be left as is or the flavor of your choice may be folded in.  The only strict rule is that it does need to set up in the freezer overnight.  Four hours just doesn’t cut it, as is evidenced by the Key Lime I put together.  But that’s the only direction which should be observed.  I don’t really have a name for this.  I guess we could call it “Frozen Stuff” although Pamela would call it “Frozen S**t”.  She’s bad that way.  This dessert can be assembled in a 9X13 dish, a loaf pan, or any bowl that has a shape you like.  If you do choose a loaf pan or bowl, line it loosely with plastic wrap to make it easier to pop out.  This recipe calls for a 9X13 dish so if you’re using a smaller dish, eyeball your amounts and cut back accordingly.

Frozen Stuff

yield: 12 to 15 servings

  • 1 (1/2) gallon ice cream
  • 1 (8 oz.) container frozen whipped topping, thawed
  • 3 cups cookie crumbs, about 30 sandwich cookies
  • 1/4 cup melted butter
  • 1/2 cup toasted nuts, if using
  1. Combine cookie crumbs and butter.  Mix well then cover the bottom of 9X13 pan evenly with them.
  2. Cut ice cream into slices 1/2″ thick and completely cover cookie crumbs.
  3. Spread whipped topping over ice cream and finish with nuts scattered all over the top.
  4. Cover with plastic wrap and chill over night in freezer.

Here are two of my favorite combinations.

  • chocolate cream filled sandwich cookies
  • coffee ice cream
  • 1 small can Dulce de Leche folded into whipped topping
  • 1/2 cup sliced, toasted almonds
  • white chocolate macadamia nut cookies
  • Key Lime ice cream
  • guava sauce folded into whipped topping

YUUUUUMMMM!!!!!

An Unexpected Friend

Banging around the kitchen this evening, I heard an interview on NPR of Greece’s ex-PM, George Papandreou.  I had just gotten home, still had to change my clothes but first let me just straighten this, wait, let me put that away… Y’all know what I mean.  As I wiped down the counters, or did something equally significant, I stopped to listen.  There were no surprises in his comments but they DID turn my cerebral energies towards my island, my heaven, one of the most beautiful places on this planet.  Lesvos, Greece.  I thought of our daily activities and all the people we’ve gotten to know…and really like.  Not just family, but shop owners, hotel staff, restaurant owners, waiters, locals, dogs, donkeys, horses, farmers, our tastes run the gamut!

We try to go for at least two or three weeks every summer but last year, when the temperature in the house soared to the high eighty-somethings, we took the envelope marked VACATION 2011 and handed it to the AC man.  Yes, we needed an entire new central air system.  So it’s been two years this summer since we’ve been to Greece.  I miss it.  And I worry about it.  We’re going this August.  What will we find? Thankfully, the island of Lesvos is not dependant on tourism.  We’re usually about the only Americans there!  None the less, I’m sure the island, like the entire country, is reeling from this hideous financial quagmire.  I thought of my early morning runs,

never starting later than 6:30  in the morning because of the crushing heat.  The sun would start coming up at 5:30, I would see it peeking through the hotel curtains.  It felt soooo good in that bed, especially since we had usually been drinking the night before!  Sunscreen on, contacts in, hair back, shades, cap, music and I was off!  The resort where we stay is terraced and there must be 7 gazillion steps from top to bottom.  Each terrace has vines with velvety, deep orange flowers growing and I would always stop and just look out.  It’s unbelievably magnificent!  The swath of brilliant orange, the ancient, gnarled olive trees and then… the Aegean.

I’d trot down the steps figuring that would be a sufficient warm up, there really isn’t any place to sit and stretch, and, on my way down, decide which direction I would go.  But each morning I would always start in the same direction!  Off I’d go with my walk-man, then in later years, an iPod, music blaring just way too loud for my poor eardrums but I felt incredibly happy and free.  Leaving the Sunrise, that’s where we stay, I ALWAYS turned left and headed towards the hot springs.  I would race-walk on the winding road and my unbreakable rule was any hill, you gotta run.  Up AND down.  Those are the rules.  And you can’t stop unless you come across something really cool or pretty or dead.  My favorites tunes would come on, maybe Bob Seger’s “Katmando” and I would jam!  I would find the most darling little dogs sitting at the end of the driveway of their hotels or family’s summer home every morning. They’d watch, loyally guarding their homestead, and at attention, too!  It took a few years for us to become friends, but we did.  There was a pack of wild dogs that lived on the beach but they didn’t look feral.  They were small and cute, however, as I’m not one to temp the fates, mutual respect was observed by all.  They lived close to the guy who would be homeless except HE INHERITED A SHACK ON THE BEACH AND THE SAND IT SITS ON.  I have a photo of it somewhere, I had to kind of sneak up on it and quickly take the picture before the dogs alerted the man.  Things like that just scare me to death!

Continuing on, I passed older, sprawling hotels, newly renovated with flowers everywhere, lemon and orange trees jumping out from around every corner and majestic swimming pools all lined with local marble.  Old school meets new school.  Up and down the hills I welcomed the gusty winds as I would begin to feel the morning heat.  I’d still be riding on happy, it’s just so incredibly gorgeous.  The Aegean was right next to me, waves gently lapping at the stone beach!!  Can you stand it??!!  When I heard fast, hard music, I’d look around, not that there would ever be anybody out, and play MY version of air guitar.  I love my classic rock and, in years past, would carefully pack my fave CD’s, Allman Brothers, Bob Seger, Lynyrd Skynyrd, ZZ Top.  “Southbound”, “Done Somebody Wrong” or “Tush” would come on and I was in another world.  I ran in some kind of reverie and, when my most loved chorus would come on, I’d burst into a blistering air guitar riff.  And that’s when the sound of a deafening horn BLEW me off the road.  Scared the life out of me!!!  A chain of foul and ugly words spewed forth from my mouth as I was harshly jolted out of La-La land.  Almost falling, I spun around to see who was the dolt, the dunderhead, the ASS who was fixin’ to feel my wrath TAKE.HIM.DOWN.  I turned to see a mammoth tractor, dressed with a flowered wreath and finished with a smokestack train whistle. Seated on the very top was a man with THE biggest handlebar mustache I had ever, EVER seen.  And he was laughing at me.  Yes, laughing.  He had on one of those black and white checked headscarves like Yasser Arafat used to wear.  I spoke no Greek, none, except for my food vocabulary and what was I going to call him?  You freakin’ loser stuffed grape leaf?  Well, I showed him!  I gave him my haughtiest, scathing look and off he chugged, laughing all the way down the road.  In the following days I’d hear him coming and, you bet I made it a point, I would just stand out of the way until he passed.  A full year passed, we’re on vacation, YAY!, and I’m back to working out.  I heard the familiar chug-chug-chug.  As he passed I didn’t reward him with a smile but I did, ever so imperceptibly, give him a polite nod.  That’s it… that’s all he got that year.  Now we’re into the following summer.  Back on the road, hot, sweaty, winding down with Freebird, and I hear it.  Chug-chug-chug.  I was elated!!  By then I had been taking Greek for a few years.  Every so often I would think of this man, almost fondly, during the year especially during winter when the days would get dark early and I longed for a 9:00 p.m. sunset.  Jimmy, Selene and I gave him a name, “My Friend”.  He tooted his horn, still laughing at me, but this time I managed to sputter my name and my nationality as my face lit up with a smile to match his.  I saw him at least every other morning, we’d laugh and wave, I have no idea where he was going or where he’d been.  On my last day I took my camera.  This is before cell phones with cameras.  I’d run, take a few photos, run, take a few photos and then I heard that familiar engine cough.  I turned, smiled and waved.  I gestured with my camera, was it okay?  He just laughed and kept smiling but brought the tractor to a halt giving me enough time to snap a few shots. The sun had just come up and was just blazing away behind him.  It was too, too bright, the photos would NEVER come out!  And I knew he wouldn’t turn the tractor around just so I could take his picture, he seemed to be a real man’s man.  What I had would just have to do.  The following year I never saw him on the road but, one day, driving through some village, in the corner of my eye, I saw him, headdress on, sitting outside a taverna with his cronies flipping his worry beads.  I felt SO much better that I knew my friend was all right!  I hope he’s well.  I hope I see my friend.  And I hope he’s on his tractor.  I’ll keep you posted!

My Friend.

I want to give you a quintessential Greek dish, Baklava.  It’s easy.  You just need a little time.  The nuts are interchangeable so you can combine them any way you’d like.  A syrup is made to pour over the Baklava in the final stages of preparation and either fresh orange or lemon juice and peel can be used.  The spices in the syrup call for cinnamon, but as of late, I’ve also been adding a spice called Mahlep.  Mahlep is the kernel of a kind of wild cherry.  Its flavor is extremely subtle, its addition adds another layer of flavor.  If you don’t have an international market close to you, don’t fret.  It will be still be fabulous!  But if you DO, grab some.  It’s not expensive at all.  The kernels look like enormous sesame seeds.  When I make the syrup, I toss a tablespoon of the mahlep into a ziplock bag and pound it with a pestle, of the mortar and pestle combo, on the counter.  Enough to break it up.

The syrup will later be strained so there’s no right or wrong here.  Butter is now used more frequently between the sheets of phyllo whereas in the past, the fat of choice was high-grade, local olive oil.  As I mentioned, different combinations of nuts can, and are, used.  Walnuts, pistachios, hazelnuts, almonds, even pecans can be gently layered in the sheets of dough, and all taste great!  I hope you won’t let phyllo intimidate or torture you.  Just follow a couple of simple rules and you’ll be golden!  Like the Baklava I’m sure you’ll make!  Oh, and let me be so bold to add, it’s better the next day!

Baklava

yield: 1 13X9 pan

  • 2-2 1/2 cups finely chopped walnuts, or 1 cup walnuts, the other cup your nut of choice, but finely chopped not ground
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 1/2 pound phyllo dough, opened and covered with a clean, damp linen towel.  Turn your ceiling fan off.  It’ll dry out the dough.
  • 1 cup butter, melted
  • 2 cups syrup, at room temp, recipe follows

Syrup

  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 cup honey
  • 2-3 wide strips of lemon or orange rind
  • 2 tablespoons of lemon juice if using. 3 tablespoons of juice if using fresh orange.
  • 2 teaspoons of smashed Mahlep, if you can find it.  Greek markets carry it.
  1. Combine all the syrup ingredients in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil.
  2. Simmer until thickened, maybe 10 to 15 minutes.
  3. Strain into a bowl and let come to room temperature.

Baklava

  1. Preheat oven to 350°.
  2. Mix nuts, cinnamon and 2 tablespoons of butter together in a small bowl and set aside.
  3. Spray the bottom and sides of pan with nonstick spray.
  4. With a pastry brush, butter one sheet of phyllo and place on bottom of pan, taking care to fit into corners.  Don’t worry if any sheets tear, you’ll never know looking at the final product. Butter and stack 9 or 10 sheets.  Ends can hang over as long as they’re buttered.
  5. Scatter 1/3 of the nut mixture over the buttered phyllo.
  6. Butter and layer another 9 or 10 sheets of phyllo and scatter another third of the nut mixture over that.
  7. Repeat once more and finish with the last sheets of buttered phyllo.  Any remaining butter can be liberally brushed all over phyllo.
  8. Using a sharp knife, cut through all the layers, making diamond or square-shaped serving pieces, being careful not to scratch the bottom of your pan.
  9. Holding the pan in one hand, use your other hand to sprinkle water from your faucet aaaaaaallllll over the baklava.  But be careful to only sprinkle, if you drench it it’ll be soggy.  It takes a minute or two but keeps the phyllo edges from curling up.
  10. Bake 40-45 minutes until the top is light gold  and crisp to the touch.
  11. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool.
  12. When the liquids in the dish no longer sizzle, carefully spoon the syrup in the cuts in between the pieces and around the edges of the baklava.  Try not to pour the syrup over the phyllo because it will make it soggy.
  13. Let it cool completely and when completely cooled, but only then, cover.  Let it sit all day or over night to soak up the syrup.

Have you seen the Muffin Man?

My boy’s leaving early tomorrow morning, back to Tar Heel country. I thought I’d put together a portable food send-off gift for him while I was drowning my sorrows.  All you mothers out there sending off college students know what I’m talking about.  How about some organic Banana Blueberry Oat Muffins?

Banana Blueberry Oat Muffins

yield: 9 to 12

  • 2 ripe bananas, mashed
  • 2 tbls canola oil
  • 1 egg
  • 1/2 cup fat free milk
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 2/3 cup white whole wheat flour
  • 1/2 cup quick cook oats
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1 3/4 tsp baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 1 cup frozen or fresh blueberries
  • cooking spray
  1. Preheat oven to 350°.
  2. Combine bananas, canola oil, egg, milk and vanilla in a large bowl; mix well and set aside.
  3.  In a medium bowl, and using a dry spoon, mix together all the dry ingredients.  When well mixed add blueberries coating well with the flour mixture.
  4. Stir the flour mixture into the banana mixture until they are just combined.
  5. Spray muffin tin cups with cooking spray and spoon about 1/3 cup batter into each.
  6. Bake 16-22 minutes or until tester comes out clean.

I use a mixture of flours so the baking time is longer.  I’ll use whole wheat, whole wheat pastry, unbleached all purpose, white whole wheat.  I also add almonds, sunflower seeds, ground flax seed.  I use organic ingredients as often as I can.  You can really play around with this recipe and it freezes incredibly well.