RockCreekRecipes: Memories & Merriment with Marna: Giving Back & Paying it Forward

RockCreekRecipes: Memories & Merriment with Marna: Giving Back & Paying it Forward: I have several friends that seem to enjoy my cooking so much that they don't even mind eating our leftovers. Seriously. I guess I'd welco...

Giving Back & Paying it Forward

I have several friends that seem to enjoy my cooking so much that they don't even mind eating our leftovers. Seriously. I guess I'd welcome a bowl of homemade soup or stew for lunch if it was brought to my home or office. Who in their right mind would turn away free food, especially if it's homemade? I've been known to make too much food on purpose, simply because I enjoy sharing so much. I simply adore receiving texts or calls about how delicious the food is. Aside from the fact that it's a confidence booster, it's a pretty special feeling to be able to just simply give to others. Whether it's your average leftover packaged in Tupperware or it's a batch of your favorite cookies, preparing food for friends and family is incredibly rewarding. There's a sort of magic in the whole process. Food is comforting, nurturing, heartwarming. And when you receive food as a gift from someone, you can almost feel the love as you enjoy each bite.
 My husband's Grandma Ina would give the best treats around the Christmas season. She took so much delight in seeing our faces when we'd open our tins of Peanut Brittle, homemade Fudge and Peanut Butter Balls. She would spend hours upon hours in her tiny kitchen preparing all of those wonderful goodies. She knew the secret to giving. She understood that sharing her talents, without any promise of reward was a very special thing indeed. I first met her when I was 19 years old. She and her husband Nevel attended our Engagement Party. She brought me a gift and embraced me before I even knew who she was. And then, she greeted me with the thickest, most wonderful sounding Scottish accent I had ever heard. Oh, how I loved to here her laugh. I learned that the more she laughed, the thicker her accent became. In the first few years of knowing her, I often asked my husband or my mother in law to translate what she had said. She was great fun to be around. We all called her Grandma Ina but her given name was Alexanderina. Looking back, I realize that I probably learned more about giving by just watching her, than I ever intended to. She would call, just to check on us, send us birthday cards with little notes written inside and always send us home with homemade goodies if we stopped by to visit. Being only 20 when my husband and I got married, I was young and insecure, somewhat unsure of my place but Grandma Ina made me feel as though I belonged. She'd talk to me about her brother and sisters in Scotland as if I should know who they were, almost like I had been a member of the family for years. When Grandma Ina made you a tin of Peanut Butter Balls, you felt loved, appreciated and included. That was her intention as she was making them and packaging them up. She wanted to see your smile, to hear you say how amazing they tasted. I definitely have that same intention when I give gifts of meals or desserts.
One of my best friends works in a medical office. On my way to work, I will occasionally drop off a Tupperware container filled with a hearty soup or thick tasty stew so that she can enjoy it for lunch. Each time I walk back to her office, I realize that I need to do something for the entire staff at some point. Last night, I made a batch of my favorite chocolate chip cookies and also tried a new recipe for Butter Meltaways. I dropped them off this morning and informed the staff that this time, the container wasn't just for my friend, but for all of them. Seeing their smiles made my entire day! Grandma Ina would have loved to have been there with me, to feel and see the secret to giving. It's truly magical.

Alexanderina (Ina) and Nevel, 1940's

Butter Meltaways

1/2 cup butter (no substitutes), softened
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
Additional sugar

In a mixing bowl, cream butter, oil, and sugars. Add egg and vanilla. Combine flour, baking soda and cream of tartar, gradually add to the creamed mixture. Chill several hours or overnight.
Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls 2 in. apart onto ungreased baking sheets. (I always use parchment paper) Flatten with a fork dipped in flour, sprinkle with sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on wire racks. Makes about 2 dozen.

Recipe from 2000 Taste of Home Annual Recipes

Gardening

The beginning of my garden...

My Grandpa was able to grow the best tasting tomatoes. Every year they would flourish. It could have been the sunny climate of Southern California, or it could have been his green thumb. Grandma loved growing radishes and spinach. It seemed that we always had a few fresh radishes on the dinner table. They had an average sized home lot but somehow I remember it being this vast space that seemed more like a park or Arboretum. The neighbors had an enormous avocado tree, that grew right along the fence line so naturally, we enjoyed fresh avocados on a regular basis. We also had a never ending supply of fresh squeezed orange juice from our tree that stood in the front yard. I still have yet to see another orange tree as large as this one. The top of the tree was as tall as the roof line. When I finally did taste store bought orange juice, I remember being very unimpressed. There is no comparison. A luscious fig tree grew alongside my homemade swing. I don't know which I liked better, eating figs right from the tree, or swinging on that wonderful swing that my Grandpa made. It was made from steel pipes set in an A-frame and had a wooden seat. I spent so many hours playing on that swing. I would stand on the seat and pretend I was a trapeze artist in the circus. I would swing as high as I could, then jump off and fly through the air. I wouldn't dare swing while facing the other way, there was a large group of pampas grass directly along the fence line behind my swing. The blades were razor sharp. I found this out the hard way. My Grandma warned me many times to stay away from them. But being the mischievous child that I was, I had to find out what she was talking about. I couldn't just take her word for it. Once I realized how sharp those blades of grass really were, I always made sure to play on my swing facing the correct way, towards the house, not the fence. I was always afraid of cutting my outstretched legs on that awful pampas grass. We had a small lemon tree that Grandma loved. She said that fresh lemonade was one of her favorite things to drink. She preferred it extra tart and tangy and that's how she made it, whether anyone else cared for it that way or not. She also froze the juice in an ice cube tray. She told me that one could never tell when one might need just a dash of lemon in a special dish. Now that I read cooking magazines, I often see that listed as a helpful hint and I always think, "My Grandma thought of that first!"
Along the driveway, was the cactus garden. Not one of my favorites but it seemed that we had plants of all types in our yard so these had to be included as well. I believe it started with just one cactus and grew each year until there were numerous pots and planters filled with them. If I came to visit and one of the cactus was in bloom, the first thing that Grandma would do would be to take me out to the driveway to show me the glorious flower. I always got a tour of the yard, the latest plantings, blooms, or harvests. Somehow, they just seemed to know everything about gardening. When to plant, when to fertilize, how to make compost, what types of plants grew best for where they lived. I never thought to ask them how they learned to do such amazing things with the plants in their yard. People aren't just born with a green thumb, are they? If they are, then both of them had the gift. It seemed like they each took ownership over certain vegetables in the garden. If we were eating beans for dinner and Grandpa grew them, he seemed especially proud if we complimented the taste. And if we had a spinach or romaine salad, Grandma was grinning from ear to ear because it was the best tasting salad we'd ever had. I loved her strawberry shortcake, with her fresh strawberries of course. I never saw them buy strawberries when their garden was in full swing. They didn't have a huge space for vegetables, just the area behind the garage. Their house was built in the late 1940's and was a typical ranch style home with a detached garage at the back of the lot. Almost all of the homes in their neighborhood were laid out that way. That area was sunny all day until the neighbors behind them  planted a row of trees that grew too tall and ended up blocking most of the sunlight. Luckily, this didn't happen until they were in their eighties and ready to slow down a bit. It still made them sad. I could tell that they missed being outside, in the dirt, with work gloves on. It was a vital part of who they were. They needed to be out in nature. That's one of the reasons that they camped so much. And went on evening walks, and day trips to the beach or the mountains for picnics. I am much the same. I require nature, to stay level and happy. I love the city and the busyness of it but I cherish my times outdoors, where I can hear birds singing, water rushing, and feel sunshine on my face.
This year, my husband suggested that we move a little closer to sustainability. It is a slow process for us. He thought it would be fairly simple to plant an herb garden in containers and place them on our deck. Since I cook with herbs quite a bit, I agreed with him. Somehow, that small herb garden grew into a complete vegetable garden. I do not know how it happened. I'm better in the kitchen than outside. He handles all of our yard maintenance. As a teenager,he worked part time with a crew that cleaned up repossessed houses. And he learned grass cutting and edging, tree trimming and hedge trimming. He would often take care of my Grandparents yard when they were older. So, now I'm committed to planting a real honest to goodness garden. I wish I had paid more attention to Grandma and Grandpa when they were working in their yard. I will freely admit that I don't know what I'm doing. And I'll also admit that I'm thoroughly enjoying the process. I started all but two plants from seeds. I bought two tomato plants and also four strawberry plants. Everything else, I've managed to grow, on my own. Aside from my cat eating the leaves off of three of my bean plants, everything is sprouting. I'm actually shocked. I went into this thinking that if it all flops, at least I'm not out much, just the cost of the seeds and the planting trays. But I've surprised myself. First, I didn't think that I could get that many plants to grow. Second, I had no idea that I would love it as much as I do. I enjoy being outside, watering and taking care of things that I've helped to create. It's an amazing feeling to see these seedlings grow more each day. And now, I do understand the idea of taking ownership over a vegetable or flower. You've nurtured it, each day, helped it along, sent it good thoughts even. While I didn't pay close attention to all the details of gardening as I was growing up, I did take away a big lesson. That there is peace in nature. There is a sense of happiness that comes from being outdoors, in the sunshine, or the rain. Life is precious. All life, plant animal and human. It's been five years since Grandma passed away, and seven months since Grandpa passed. I miss them everyday but I feel their presence with me. I know they would like my garden. I'm sure they've taken a tour of my yard to see all the latest plantings, blooms and harvests.

"In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks. " ~John Muir

Paragraphs and Math

Me. In in our front yard, standing next to our orange tree. Photo taken about 1977.

In Elementary School, probably 3rd or 4th grade, part of the weekly homework was to write a paragraph that included all of the spelling words that had been assigned on Monday. The test and homework were always due at the end of the week. Even though I excelled at reading, comprehension and spelling, I lacked confidence when it came to completing my homework on my own. Thank goodness I was given the most patient grandmother of all time. We would sit at the dining room table, away from any distractions and review the spelling words. We'd talk about the definitions and she'd always say that we needed to put our "Thinking Caps" on. Of course, we had to hold our imaginary caps in our hands and actually do the movements of putting them on our heads. It was a clever way to get a rambunctious little girl to sit still and pay attention. It didn't always work. I didn't care for homework much. I would have rather been outside playing. I'm sure that my teacher knew that my grandma helped me with those paragraphs. They were wildly creative and sometimes far beyond my level of understanding, but we got the job done. I always got A's on my spelling homework, which was no surprise. Sometimes my teacher would write little notes on my homework pages about my stories, I'm sure she was hoping my grandma would see them. I remember that she drew a winking smiley face once. At the time I didn't understand why. Years later, I get it.
Math on the other hand was a complete disaster. I remember being giving the job of passing out math papers in the 1st grade, Miss Kerger's class. I conveniently skipped my desk. I somehow thought that if I didn't get the paper, I would be excused from actually having to do the work. It was just simple addition, 1+2= 3, 2+2= 4, etc... But it scared me. I didn't understand it at all. You would think that I'd have been good at math. My Grandpa was a draftsman, my dad was a machinist, and my Grandma Ann was a bookkeeper. She could calculate large problems in her head, which always amazed me. I could never figure out how she could remember all of those numbers and where they all were at the beginning of the problem. I guess the gift of understanding numbers and equations passed me by. When it comes to cooking though, I can double, triple or halve a recipe with no problem. By the time I was in 3rd grade, I was placed in a remedial math class. When the rest of the class would work on their daily math lessons, I'd take my basic skills book and head to Mrs. Carlisle's room. This lack of interest in excelling in school had to be frustrating to my grandparents. I'm not sure it's what they bargained for when they decided to take on the responsibility of raising me. The good thing is, I did manage to pass each grade.
While Grandma always made sure I did my homework and had the expectation that I would do well in school, she had no trouble taking me out a few days before Thanksgiving vacation actually started. We camped at the beach almost every year for Thanksgiving. She'd also take me out early for Spring break if we had a camping trip planned. It was a tradition every fall to go to the L.A. County Fair. But we never went on a Saturday. I got to be excused from school so that we could go on a weekday. The justification was that a county fair was highly educational. And with my Grandparents, it actually was. Usually, kids think of all of the carnival rides when they imagine going to the fair. Not this kid. We'd spend the entire day looking through the buildings with artwork, photography, needlework and sewing, The livestock barn would take at least an hour to walk through. We'd have numerous conversations throughout the day, all of them a lesson in some way or another. In my mind, they will always be as smart as any of my teachers in grade school. They had life experiences to share and a wonderfully creative way to share them with me.
And yes, I still dislike math. It scares me. *wink*

Rock Creek....memories.

Rock Creek....75 steps from my front door.

How I came up with the name for my blog:

I've had a couple of people ask where the name Rock Creek Recipes: Memories and Merriment with Marna came from and I thought I'd share the story. It all starts way before I was even born. My grandparents lived in Southern California and sometime during their early married life, they discovered a wonderful place in the High Sierras to camp called Rock Creek Lake. Obviously there is a creek there. Although as a child, it seemed to me more like a rushing river than a creek. They would camp there often with friends. I have many photos of their trips taken during the 60's. I never get tired of looking at them. My grandparents absolutely loved to go camping. Their honeymoon was a trip to Sequoia National Park. Yes, they spent their wedding night in a tent. My grandma laughed about that many times. She told me that they saved up for a year to be able to take that trip. She thought fancy, elaborate weddings were a waste of money. She'd rather spend her money on trips and traveling. My grandpa loved Rock Creek. He said that some of the best fishing in all of California was at Rock Creek Lake. They would plan their trips around opening day of Trout season. I have so many photos of them with fishing poles in their hands. Rock Creek Lake is surrounded by pine trees. It is a beautiful place, filled with memories. When I came along, I was fortunate enough to be included in almost every camping trip. My third birthday party was in that campground. My aunt made the most precious cake, with white icing and an adorable pink kitten drawn in icing on the top. I loved that cake. My uncle and cousins were also there as well as my grandparents camping buddies, Noel and Vera and their son Don and daughter in law Joan and their children.  Grandma and Grandpa had been friends with Noel and Vera since before they were married I believe. Camping with Noel and Vera was one of my favorite things to do. I loved them. Such fun people, always laughing creating a fun atmosphere. I can still remember hearing Noel and my Grandpa Zim laughing. They'd sit out by the fire pit after I'd been put to bed. The four of them would talk, and tell stories late into the night. I'd try to stay awake so I wouldn't miss anything. Even on cold nights, I'd open my little window next to my bed in the trailer and peek out at their campsite party. They would often have a late night snack of baked potatoes, wrapped in foil and cooked in the hot coals of the fire. Rock Creek holds many memories for me.
We now live in Eastern Oregon, just steps away from a beautiful creek...Rock Creek to be exact. What are the chances that my life would come full circle? There are numerous pine trees here, just like at Rock Creek Lake. We even have a fire pit in our back yard, very similar to those you'd find in campgrounds, surrounded by large river rocks. Sometimes, when I'm out in our yard, I feel like I'm camping. It's such a treasure to live here. I'll lay in my hammock under the tall pines, listen to the birds sings and close my eyes. I'm easily transported to camping trips from years ago.
When I finally decided to start a blog, I knew the name had to be special. I invited my friends to help me come up with the name. Our really good friend Bob suggested Rock Creek Recipes. I knew right away that it was perfect. An excellent way to pay tribute to Grandma Myrt and Grandpa Zim. I added the second part of the title, "Memories & Merriment with Marna" because this is much more than just a cooking or recipe blog. This is a place for me to combine two of the things I love, writing and cooking. I am who I am because of the influence of those two people. And of course, my other grandparents, my mom and dad, my husband, daughter, friends...the list is long. I've had an interesting journey to get to where I am. And I've been told that the stories I share are special. So here I am, blogging. I'm having a fabulous time, remembering, thinking, writing, cooking. I'm thankful for this outlet. And thankful that people are interested in reading about my experiences.
I really do love the name Rock Creek Recipes. It makes my smile, for many reasons.

Red Onion Focaccia

I realized something after making this Red Onion Focaccia. I am no longer impressed when I walk past the "Artisan" Bread area in our local grocery store. I can make delicious and appealing bread right in my own kitchen.Of course, I'm far from being a professional baker or a pastry chef, but I can handle basic bread for everyday meals. It feels good to accomplish a goal. I used to be intimidated by the thought of baking my own bread, without a bread machine. But not anymore. I've found an excellent cookbook and I now have the confidence to tackle just about any recipe in it. I actually have a list of at least ten more recipes that I'd like to try.
I've mentioned before that my Grandma Myrtle made most things from scratch. But I don't recall her making much bread. I think she enjoyed the convenience of bread from the market. My first recollection of homemade bread was on a vacation to Oregon with my other Grandparents, Ann and Bing. I was nine years old and we traveled by plane to visit Grandma Ann's brother John and his wife Doris, who was from England. This was also my first experience with someone with a thick English accent. I had such a good time on that trip. Aunt Doris made several loaves of whole wheat bread. She seemed so experienced. I had never seen anyone knead bread before. I must have been staring at her because she asked me if I'd like to make my own loaf. I remember my Grandpa Bing being so proud of my miniature loaf of bread that he had me hold it up and pose for a photo. He was always to one to brag about my accomplishments, no matter how small. I loved the aroma of fresh bread from that moment on. I'm sure that if Grandpa Bing were still with us, he'd want me to pose for photos with all of the bread I've been baking and all of you would grow quite tired of seeing me in every picture. And Aunt Doris would be shocked to see the creations coming out of my kitchen. It sure would be fun to travel back in time to that vacation and prepare an entire meal for the four of them. I'd love to hear their comments and see the look on their faces when they saw me all grown up. The strange things I think about sometimes....

This Foccacia was much easier than I originally thought it would be. For some reason, the idea of making this on my own, rather than buying it just scared me. Silly me, there really was no reason to shy away from making it myself. Now that I know the basics, I can add different herbs or maybe even serve it with a homemade marinara. The flavors of the red onion and the coarse salt went so good together as a topping. The dough was light and perfectly crunchy along the edges. So delicious.

Red Onion Focaccia

6 cups bread flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sugar
1 tbs rapid rise yeast
4 tbs extra virgin olive oil
2 cups lukewarm water (I make sure the water is at least 101 degrees)

To Finish:
2 red onions, very thinly sliced
3 tbs extra virgin olive oil
1 tbs coarse salt

1. Sift the flour, salt and sugar into a large bowl. Stir in the yeast, oil and water, and mix to a dough using a blunt knife. Add a little extra water if the dough is dry.
2. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 10 minutes, until smooth and elastic. Put the dough in a clean, lightly oiled bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Set aside to rise i a warm place until doubled in bulk.
3. Place two 10 inch plain metal flan rings on baking sheets. Oil the sides of the rings and the baking sheets.
4. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Halve the dough and roll each piece to a 10 inch round. Press into the rings, cover with a dampened dishcloth and let rise for 30 minutes.
5. Make deep holes, about 1 inch apart, in the dough. Cover and let sit for another 20 minutes.
6. Sprinkle the onion on top and drizzle with oil. Sprinkle with the salt, then a little cold water, to prevent a hard crust from forming.
7. Bake for about 25 minutes, sprinkling with water again during cooking. Cool on a wire rack.

Serves 16
Calories: 202

Spinach, Barley and Parmesan Casserole

I love the flavors of spinach and cheese together. And I also love dishes that aren't loaded with more calories per serving than you need in an entire day. This recipe is filled with cheesy goodness yet still only 211 calories for each serving. And let me tell you, the servings are huge! I've used barley in soups and stews but never in a casserole. It turned out delicious. Hubby didn't care for it much, mainly because he's not really into cooked spinach, but I absolutely would make this again. This is a dish my grandparents would have loved. She had a garden filled with fresh spinach and was always searching for creative recipes to use it in. This recipe calls for frozen spinach but I'm sure you could easily substitute fresh if you had some on hand. Oh, did I mention that there are mushrooms in this too? Talk about some great flavors!

Spinach, Barley and Parmesan Casserole

2/3 cup hulled barley
1 2/3 cup water
1 package (10 ounces) frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed dry
1 cup fresh mushrooms
1 tsp crushed fresh garlic
1 1/2 cups dry curd or nonfat cottage cheese
1/2 cup plus 2 tbs grated nonfat or reduced fat Parmesan cheese, divided
1/2 cup fat free egg substitute
1 tbs flour
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp ground black pepper

1. Combine the barley and water in a 1 1/2 quart pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 45-50 minutes or until the barley is tender and the liquid has been absorbed.
2. Combine the cooked barley and all of the remaining ingredients except for 2 tbs of the Parmesan  in a large bowl, and stir to mix well. Coat a 1 1/2 quart casserole dish with nonstick cooking spray and spread the mixture evenly in the dish. Sprinkle the remaining Parmesan over the top.
3. Bake uncovered at 375 degrees for 50-60 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly. Remove the dish from the oven, and let sit for 5 minutes before serving.

Makes 4 servings
Calories: 211

Poached Chicken with Creamy Mushroom Sauce and Broccoli Cheese Muffins

  Last week, I needed to make a meal with ingredients that I already had on hand. I did not want to make a special trip to the grocery store when I had plenty of food stocked in my pantry and freezer. Needing to keep our calorie count in mind while trying to shed a few extra pounds, I pulled a cookbook called "Secrets of Fat-Free Cooking" off the shelf. I found both of the following recipes in this book. I made Broccoli Cheese Muffins and Poached Chicken with Creamy Mushroom Sauce. With that, I added some whole wheat Rotini pasta and some sauteed zucchini. Not the most glamorous meal but definitely tasty and satisfying. Perfect for a weeknight meal when you really need nourishment.

I've never baked with whole grain cornmeal and since there was not a picture of the muffins in the book, I had to guess at the expected results. They had a really chewy and dense texture with a pleasing flavor. Not too much broccoli or cheese. I know that whole grains are much better for us so I'm doing my best to incorporate them into our diets.


 The poached chicken was so moist! And the sauce was wonderful. Just a hint of lemon complimented the mushrooms perfectly. And there was enough sauce to cover the pasta I prepared as a side dish. My husband and I both love sauces and gravies. And we are realizing that by adding those, you add a ton of unwanted calories.


But not with this meal. Since the sauce is made of fat free chicken broth and non fat sour cream, there is no reason not to indulge. With the correct portion in mind, of course. I'm really enjoying the process of cooking healthy foods. Eating the fruits of my labor is actually exciting. When trying out a new recipe or a different and unusual ingredient, the results are always a surprise. It definitely keeps things interesting. And who wants to eat the same thing every week? Not me. For those days that I'm rushed or uninspired, I'll always have my stand by meals, those quick and easy dinners that can be put together in a matter of minutes, but trying new things is exciting and fun.

Poached Chicken with Creamy Mushroom Sauce

4 boneless skinless chicken breast halves (4 ounces each)
1 cup fat free chicken broth

Sauce:
2 cups sliced fresh mushrooms
3/4 cup nonfat sour cream
1 tbs unbleached flour
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1 tbs freshly grated lemon rind

1. Rinse the chicken, and arrange it in an unheated nonstick skillet. Add the broth, and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20 to 25 minutes. or until the chicken is tender and no longer pink inside. pour the broth into a measuring cup. Transfer the chicken to a serving platter and cover to keep warm.
2. To make the sauce, place the mushrooms in the skillet along with 1-2 tbs of the reserved broth. Cook and stir over medium heat until the mushrooms are tender and all of the liquid has evaporated. Add 1/2 cup plus 2 tbs of the reserved broth and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium low.
3. Combine the sour cream, flour, pepper, and lemon rind in a small bowl, and stir until smooth. Add the sour cream mixture to the mushroom mixture, and cook and stir for about 1 minute or until the sauce is thickened and bubbly.
4. Pour the sauce over the chicken and serve hot, accompanying the dish with brown rice or whole grain noodles.

Makes 4 servings
Calories: 207



Broccoli Cheese Muffins

2 cups whole grain cornmeal
1 tbs sugar
1 tbs baking powder
1 tbs baking soda
1 1/2 cups nonfat or low fat buttermilk
3 egg whites, lightly beaten
1 package (10 ounces) frozen chopped broccoli, thawed and squeezed dry
1 cup shredded nonfat or reduced fat cheddar cheese

1. Combine the cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and baking soda in a large bowl, and stir to mix well. Add the buttermilk and egg whites, and stir just until the dry ingredients are moistened. Fold in the broccoli and cheese.
2. Coat muffin cups with cooking spray and fill 3/4 full with the batter. Bake at 350 for 16-18 minutes, or just until a wooden toothpick inserted in the center of a muffin comes out clean.
3. Remove the muffin tins from the oven, and allow them to sit for 5 minutes before removing the muffins. Serve warm.

Makes 16 muffins
Calories: 86