Jane's Sweets & Baking Journal

Vanilla Velvet Bundt Cake with White Rum Glaze . . .

2012-01-24T14:54:00.001-05:00

What a good cake. Velvety texture, nicely balanced flavor. And so pretty. I don't wax rhapsodic about baking pans at the drop of a hat, but in this case, you'll have to excuse me while I do just that. I'll try to make it short and simply say, "Bless you Nordicware, for making such a swirly, whirly, incredibly high-quality, seemingly indestructible, unbelievably nonstick, bundt pan. (And thanks to you, too, Williams Sonoma, for selling it!)"

I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no, I did not get the pan for free, nor am I being compensated to gush over it. I bought it myself. Really. I just happen to love it. Completely. Yeah okay, but why, you ask? Pull up a chair and I'll tell you.

I've been around the block a few times with various and sundry bundt pans, as you may know, with mixed and sometimes sad results--light ones, dark ones, flimsy, not so flimsy, nonstick, everythingstick--you name it. I've made coconut bundts, lemon bundts, sweet potato bunds, chocolate zucchini bundts, mocha bundts, banana bundts, ad infinitum bundts, and I've rarely had an entirely problem-free experience.

But the Nordicware Heritage bundt did not let me down in any respect. As pans designed for home bakers go, it's heavy duty, to be sure. You'd probably have to drop this bad boy from a highway overpass to dent it (but I'd advise against that unless you're overly curious about the inner-workings of the justice system). And, if you grease and flour with the utmost care, you will be rewarded a hundred fold when you unmold your cake. Prepare to gasp in stunned delight when you see how perfectly it emerges. No blemishes, and no forlorn cake chunks left clinging to the pan. I had to holler for my husband and son, who were entrenched on the couch watching an old western, to come and look at it with me. They, too, kind of gasped and I think one of them even remarked, "Wow!" Then they returned to the couch. I remained in the kitchen and just stood there, gazing in rapt amazement, drinking in the sight of that perfectly shaped cake, astonished that it had actually entered the world so unscathed. Apparently, bundtastrophes can be avoided, and my cake faith has been restored.

About this recipe . . .

For my maiden voyage with this pan, I used the basic recipe that came with it, making a couple minor tweaks here and there, including the addition of a very modest amount of white rum in the batter. I also added a quick glaze, which I flavored as well with a dash of white rum, to the semi-cooled cake and I reworded the instructions to reflect exactly what I did. It's an easy cake with a beautiful crumb. I can't wait to concoct further variations on this one.

Vanilla Velvet Bundt Cake with White Rum Glaze

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Place a shelf in the lower third of the oven.

Carefully grease your bundt pan, taking care to get the grease in every nook and cranny; don't skimp, but don't leave visible globs either. Flour the pan generously, then tap out the excess. (I highly recommend greasing a bundt pan with a professional pastry brush; I use a round, natural-bristle brush. It fits well into corners and doesn't become easily misshapen the way flat pastry brushes do.)

For the cake:
2 and 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 and 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 level tsp. coarse kosher salt
2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened and at room temperature
1 and 1/2 cups granulated sugar
4 large eggs, beaten lightly
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 and 1/2 tsp. white rum
3/4 cup milk, room temperature
1/4 cup half & half, room temperature

For the glaze:
1 cup confectioner's sugar (sifted, or be sure to use 10x)

1and 1/2 to 3 Tbsp. white rum (depending upon how thick you want the glaze to be, and how much rum flavoring you prefer)

In a medium size bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

Stir the milk and half & half together in one container.

In the large bowl of your mixer, on medium speed, beat the butter for about 30 seconds, just until smooth and creamy. Gradually add in the granulated sugar, still on medium speed; beat for approximately 5 minutes, until fluffy; stop to scrape as needed.

Add in the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one, scraping periodically. Pour in the vanilla and white rum, and beat for about 1 minute, until combined.

On your mixer's lowest speed, add in the flour alternately with the milk, starting and ending with the flour (3 equal portions of flour and 2 equal portions of milk). Don't worry if the batter looks sort of curdled at the start of this process. Mix each addition only until incorporated, pausing between additions to scrape the bowl and beaters.

Carefully spoon the batter into the pan; don't pour it from the bowl. Using the back of your spoon, urge the batter up the inner and outer sides of the pan (you'll be creating what looks like a shallow trough).

Bake the cake on the rack set in the lower third of the oven, for about 50 - 60 minutes (mine took 55 minutes), until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, and the cake looks like it's beginning to pull away from the sides of the pan. (Try to resist opening the oven at all until the cake's been in there at least 45 minutes. That's my advice.)

Transfer the pan to a cooling rack and let the cake cool for 15 minutes only. Now pick up the pan by its edges and, still holding it upright, tap it firmly against a hard surface. Hold the cooling rack over the pan and invert the two. Carefully lift the pan off of your cake, and let it finish cooling on the rack.

To make the glaze:

In a small bowl, stir together the confectioners' sugar and the rum, adding the liquid in slowly until the glaze is the texture you prefer; add more sugar if needed to thicken it. Stir until no lumps at all remain. Set the cake on its rack atop a sheet pan, and drizzle the glaze over the almost-cooled cake. Let the glaze set before slicing and serving the cake.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below.)

Dill & Sour-Cream Dinner Rolls . . . (Those Amish Ladies Sure Can Bake!)

2012-01-12T12:29:00.001-05:00

There are, quite apparently, many things that traditional Amish cooks have pretty much mastered. Among their talents are the production of exceptionally tasty baked goods. These tender rolls, fragrant with dried dill, are a case in point. The inspiration for this recipe, which I customized partly out of necessity and partly to suit my taste, hails from The Amish Cook's Baking Book by Lovina Eicher and Kevin Williams.

This book's humble charm and lack of slick pretension are a respite from much of what one finds these days in the cookbook dept. of big bookstores. Sometimes you crave a fancy book laden with elaborately staged photos and crammed with recipes that don't seem to contain fewer than 20 ingredients each, but then again, there are days when you just can't stomach that. Sometimes simpler is truly better. When I'm feeling that way, I reach for a book like this one. (This recipe, by the way, can easily be made completely by hand. A mixer would just be extraneous. Don't you love that?)

Lovina Eicher, who lives in rural Michigan, is a member of the Old Order Amish. She pens a syndicated column, called "The Amish Cook," that appears in dozens of mainstream community newspapers (Kevin Williams is her editor and collaborator on several books). Her writing voice is warm, open, and companionable.

They say that Amish girls grow up learning how to make the most of what's available while wasting very little, and that they're taught to value meaningful work and a job well done. It sounds, too, as if Amish women on the homefront develop an appreciative awareness of the peace and creativity inherent in daily tasks like baking bread, caring for a garden, stitching a quilt by hand, and so on.

In reading Eicher's book, I kept thinking that we "Englishers" (one term for us non-Amish folks), could likely learn a thing or two from certain aspects of their down-to-earth approach to life. That they're able to sustain their quiet lifestyle as the modern world swirls around them is kind of astonishing. I wonder if they must be uniquely strong in character, or maybe just really brave, in ways that we can scarcely fathom? What do you think?

About this recipe . . .

What did I change? Well, these rolls were supposed to contain cottage cheese (the original recipe in the book, just fyi, is called Dilly Bread and can make one standard size loaf or one dozen rolls). I, however, am not crazy about cottage cheese and didn't have any on hand anyway, so I substituted a mixture of two-thirds sour cream and one-third cream cheese, and that worked out really well. I also used milk instead of water, clover honey instead of white sugar, and instant yeast instead of active dry. I altered the assembly of ingredients somewhat, and lengthened the rising and proofing times a bit. All in all, things worked out just as I'd hoped and these were extremely delicious, tender, and aromatic rolls. I served them at dinner, warm in a basket, along with seasoned, oven-baked chicken breasts, and fresh cole slaw. Yum.

Dill & Sour-Cream Dinner Rolls

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: 12 medium size rolls or one standard size loaf of bread

2 and 1/2 cups bread flour (I use unbleached.)
1 and 1/2 tsp. instant yeast (or, if you use active dry, 1 package; proof it first)
1 Tbsp. dried onion flakes
1 generous tsp. kosher salt
1 Tbsp. dried dill weed
1/4 tsp. baking soda

2/3 cup sour cream, at room temperature
1/3 cup cream cheese, at room temperature
1/3 cup warm milk
2 Tbsp. honey (I used clover honey.)
1 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
1 egg, large

1/4 cup melted unsalted butter to brush onto rolls before and after baking.

In a medium size bowl, whisk together the flour, along with the instant yeast, dried onion flakes, kosher salt, dried dill weed, and baking soda.

In a large bowl, combine the sour cream and cream cheese until the cream cheese is well dispersed and there are no longer any large lumps.

Mix in the honey and butter, then the warm milk and the egg.

Add the flour gradually to the wet ingredients, mixing with a dough whisk or large fork until the dough starts to look somewhat shaggy and uniformly moist.

Lightly flour a clean work surface; dump the dough out onto it and knead the dough by hand for a few minutes, until it's smooth and elastic. (If you like, do the window-pane test to determine when it's ready; pull off a small glob of dough, no bigger than the size of a walnut, and gently stretch it, pulling it very slowly in opposite directions with both hands, while holding it up to the light. When you can begin to see through it without it tearing, then it's done being kneaded.)

Place the dough in a greased (or vegetable sprayed) bowl, turning it so it's lightly coated all over. Cover the bowl with a greased/sprayed piece of plastic wrap, and cover that lightly with a dish towel; place the bowl in a nice warm spot.

Let the dough rise for at least one hour, until it's almost doubled in size. Because this is a rich dough, relatively speaking, it won't rise quickly and dramatically. I let mine rise for about 70 minutes.

Dump the risen dough out onto your floured work surface again and deflate it with your hands, pressing with gentle firmness. Divide the dough into 12 equal pieces (I typically use a bench knife to do this).

Round each piece of dough into a ball shape, pinching any seams together; you want to create a little surface tension on the top of the ball. Let the balls of dough rest on your work surface, covered by the greased plastic wrap, for about 12 minutes. Again pinch any loose seams on the bottom of the balls and place all 12 of them an equal distance apart on parchment paper (or use a silicone baking mat, as shown here) placed on a half-sheet pan.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Lightly cover the top of the shaped dough balls with the greased plastic wrap, then cover it with the dish towel, and let them proof (have their final rise) in a warm spot for about45-50 minutes. They'll puff up a bit, but not significantly. Brush the proofed dough balls with melted butter.

Bake the rolls for approximately 15 minutes, until the tops are lightly golden and the bottoms are deeply golden. As soon as they emerge from the oven, brush them again with the melted butter; it will soak in almost instantly.

Let them cool on the baking sheet for a couple of minutes, then move them to a rack to finish cooling. Or, eat them warm from the oven--they're fantastic that way!

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below.)

Saying Goodbye to a House: What Homemade Really Means

2012-01-06T21:16:00.000-05:00

So many changes have occurred here over the last year--some of them joyous, some kind of bittersweet, some blatantly sad. My first child graduated from high school and bravely headed off to college. My sweet old dad passed away in September, as did my extraordinary mother-in-law on Christmas day (a loss we are still trying to absorb). And, I packed up and sold the home that I grew up in and that my parents occupied for over 50 years. That last event hasn't quite been completed . . . the sale closes next week.

As the closing approaches, I find it more and more difficult to think objectively about the house. Not that one ever really feels dispassionate about the house in which they grew up, nor should they. Despite the fact that it's essentially empty now, the place seems more full to me than it did a couple of months ago when it was still stocked with the belongings of over five decades. It's as if the multitude of memories produced there are all suddenly hovering in the air. Everywhere I turn, a memory appears.

There's the rustic workbench in the basement that my father built when I was little, where he would often spend a leisurely weekend afternoon. He'd be down there, tinkering with this or that while listening to the Detroit Tigers on the radio, or maybe to a live broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera in New York. I can picture him leaning against the bench with a distant and relaxed smile, enjoying the music, a golden glass of beer in one hand and a Lucky Strike cigarette smoldering in an ashtray nearby. That workbench is staying with the house, where it belongs. I'm pleased the new owners want to keep it.

And the kitchen, oh the kitchen. It was always the place where I would check first if I was looking for my mom. An awful lot of baked goods originated from that room, along with a lot of silliness and laughter. We had a cumbersome wooden-topped dishwasher, purchased the year I was born, that you had to push/pull over to the sink and hook up to the faucet like a fire-hose to a hydrant. It weighed a ton. I recall moving it into place with my mom in the evening after dinner (no way could a kid do it alone), and then in the morning we'd unhook it, shove it back into its cubby hole, and put away the clean dishes. Occasionally the monstrous thing would get stuck halfway through its journey (a journey of maybe four feet) and we'd have to wrestle it into place, giggling together at the absurdity of the whole scenario. There was cause to rejoice once that dishwasher was replaced with a built-in model when I was about thirteen.

And there was the tiny shelf--a secret hiding place of sorts--built oddly into the sequestered corner of a clothes shoot (remember those?) where my sister and I would often hide a small doll or stuffed animal while playing. When I asked her a few days ago if she wanted me to say anything to the house for her (she lives far away), she specifically instructed me to say goodbye to that special hiding place. Tomorrow, I will do so.

Even the impractically small garage draws me in. As empty now as the house, it used to guard bicycles and badminton rackets, tether ball poles (remember those, too?), rotary lawn mowers, and metal watering cans. I can still see my brother's blue Schwinn bicycle, the one with high handlebars and a long "banana" seat. When I was six years old, I thought he was the coolest twelve-year old on the block speeding along on that thing.

Are the objects the memories?

Those people who are professional organizers say that, in trying to sort and discard the material flotsam and jetsam of life, you should repeatedly remind yourself that the objects themselves are not the memories. "The objects are not the memories!" I keep saying that to myself these days and I know it's definitely true, but it takes a while to convince yourself of that. Thank heaven we get to carry the memories away with us for safe keeping and don't have to leave them behind or pack them into storage.

It's the memories more than anything else that are, after all, quintessentially "homemade."

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below.)

Cranberry Cream Cheese Coffeecake with Streusel Topping . . .

2011-12-20T08:51:00.001-05:00

Well, the tree's finally up and twinkling away, as are the Christmas lights outside. I baked what felt like twelve thousand cookies last week, and still have tons of dough leftover in case more(!) are needed. So, yes, progress is evident around here. But I haven't yet wrapped a single gift, nor have I sent out a single card; they're on the agenda over the next couple of days. In the midst of all this bustle, I somehow decided to experiment on Saturday afternoon with a coffeecake recipe, and the results were pretty yummy (or, if you prefer, "scrummy"--sort of short for scrumptious--as my Ireland-based baking-friend, June, would say). I was particularly pleased at this cake's staying power; even this morning, it was still very moist and good.

When you're trying to figure out what to serve on Christmas morning for breakfast or brunch, a homemade coffeecake that can be produced ahead of time, and that can be counted on not to dry out before it's served, is like money in the bank. I tried a little slice this morning to see how it was holding up, and I actually think it's improved with age. Don't you love it when something you've made does that?

About this recipe . . .

My version of this recipe has three key parts: the cakey base, the cranberry filling, and a cheese-cake-like creamy filling that you drizzle beneath and atop the cranberry layer. I took many liberties in adapting it from this lovely raspberry ripple tea cake that I found in A Bloggable Life.

I offer one caveat with this recipe. Were I to make this cake again (and I definitely would) I'd absolutely use a 9" or 10" springform pan with 2" sides, versus a 10" tart pan with 1" sides. Despite the pretty scalloped edge, it wasn't big enough. I had to trim off the outer edge of my cake when it came out of the oven because it rose over the sides (I neglected to take pictures of that little episode).

Cranberry Cream Cheese Coffeecake with Streusel Topping
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and lightly flour, or coat with baking spray, a 9" or 10" springform pan (not a 10" tart pan; see my note in the blog post above regarding the need for a springform pan of this size).

Ingredients for the cranberry filling:

2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
Scant 1/4 tsp. ground cloves

1 Tbsp. corn starch
1 and 1/2 Tbsp. orange juice

Ingredients for the cream cheese filling:

6 oz. cream cheese, at room temperature
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup granulated sugar

Ingredients for the cake base and streusel:

2 and 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cold unsalted butter, cut into small chunks
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher.)
1 large egg, lightly beaten
3/4 cup buttermilk, or 3/4 cup plain yogurt that's been thinned with a tablespoon or two of milk

To make the cranberry filling:

In a medium-size heavy saucepan, heat the cranberries, sugar, orange juice, and spices on medium heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture starts to bubble. Turn the heat down and let it simmer until it starts to thicken. In a very small bowl, mix the corn starch with the 1 and 1/2 Tbsp. of cold orange juice; stir until it looks completely smooth. Pour it slowly into the hot cranberries, stirring constantly. Raise the heat a little and keep stirring slowly until the mixture noticeably thickens up. Cook another minute or two. Take the pot off the heat and set it aside to cool.

To make the cream cheese filling:

Beat the softened cream cheese for a couple of minutes, on low speed, until smooth. Add in the lightly beaten egg. Gradually pour in the sugar, still on low speed; beat for a couple more minutes until completely smooth. Set aside.

To make the cake batter and streusel, and to assemble the cake:

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour and sugar. Using a hand held pastry blender, cut in the cold butter until the biggest lumps are no larger than peas. Scoop out 1/2 cup of this mixture and set aside; this will be used for your streusel topping.

Into the large bowl add the baking powder, baking soda, and salt, stirring to distribute evenly. Hollow out a well in the middle of the bowl. In another small bowl, whisk together lightly the egg, and the buttermilk or thinned yogurt, whichever you're using. Pour this into the dry ingredients, stirring only to moisten and combine. The batter will seem pretty thick.

Spread 2/3 of the batter into the prepared pan, nudging the batter up the sides just a bit to create a rimmed effect (easiest if you use a small offset spatula, or the back of a spoon). Drizzle half of the cream cheese filling over this.

Spread all of the cranberry filling carefully over that, being careful to keep it away from the sides of the pan. Drizzle the remaining cream cheese filling over the cranberries, again avoiding the sides of the pan.

Now, gently spread the remaining batter over the top, all the way to the sides, then sprinkle on all of the streusel.

With the pan placed on a cookie sheet, bake the cake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes or more, until the top looks lightly golden.

Let the cake cool on a rack for at least 15 minutes before attempting to remove the sides of the pan. Let it finish cooling while still on the springform pan's base, placed on a rack.

Stays nice and moist for two days or more if well-covered.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Relax. Don't Worry. Have a Christmas Cookie.

2011-12-09T22:22:00.001-05:00

The Christmas-cookie baking marathon that so many of us home bakers annually embark upon has its charms but, for me at least, those charms always seem to be counterbalanced by the problem of narrowing down all the potential cookie choices. How do we please everyone when each family member has his or her own list of favorites? How do we incorporate a few new recipes year after year without retiring our cherished regulars? And, how do we prioritize our time in the kitchen as the big day approaches and the tinsel starts to fly?

In a poignant/pathetic attempt to gain clarity, I have to sit myself down each December and ask vital questions like the following:

Will you consider yourself a yuletide failure if you don't, yet again, make your mom's ancient but enduring thumbprint recipe?
Which kind of cookie production gives you the most bang for your physical and emotional buck anyway? Fast and furious (think drop cookies, bar cookies, cookies with few ingredients, etc.)? Or slow and meticulous (think rolled, cut, and decorated sugar cookies)?
Will your kids pout and whine if you neglect to make tons of chocolate crinkles?
Will your spouse's co-workers gaze at him despondently if you fail to produce a hefty platter of rugelach, etc., for his office party?
Will you end up paralyzed with fatigue if you battle through and manage to make a dozen (or fifteen, or twenty--what's the difference?) unique cookie varieties all by yourself in one day?

We're going to have fun if it kills us . . .

Bottom line? Don't sacrifice your sanity on an altar of old cookie tins. Sacrifice anything else, but not that. Just do what brings you some joy. But don't go off the rails. Five or six cookie varieties? Let that be fine with you. One favorite cookie choice per immediate family member? Perfect. Years ago, my husband became interested in home brewing and home brewers had a mantra, which he would occasionally spout. They'd say, "Relax. Don't worry. Have a home brew." I suggest we edit that to read, "Relax. Don't worry. Have a Christmas cookie."

Here's a little round up of some favorite cookies from past posts. I want to try a few new recipes this season, but I'm going to keep it all under control. If it kills me.

Merry Mocha Streusel Bars
Hard to resist. Not too sweet, and just a little cheese-cakey. Maybe the best bar cookie around.

Chocolate Walnut Rugelach and Raspberry Rugelach
What's not to like about cream cheese pastry filled with yummy stuff like chocolate, cinnamon, nuts, and/or raspberry jam? Nothing!

Cranberry Snowdrift Bars
These babies are just darn incredible. I love them. A cookie-like base, sweet and tart cranberry filling, topped with a tender/crisp baked meringue. Pretty to look at, and really good.

Cinnamon Cranberry Shortbread
The variations you can eek out of a simple shortbread recipe are endless. Here's a great example!

Scotch Oat Sandwich Crunchies with Raspberry-Key Lime Filling
So good. And crunchy. Really, really crunchy.

Kahlua and Cream Shortbread Sandwich Cookies
If you love Kahlua and you love cookies, hop on board this train. You won't regret it.

Chocolate-Filled Coconut Macaroon Sandwich Cookies
Oh man, were these good. American-style macaroons at their very best. Tender, chewy. Yum's the word.

Orange Almond Butter Buttons
The kind of cookie that longs to accompany a nice, hot cup of tea. Crispy and delicately flavored.

Robust Molasses Cookies
A classic molasses cookie that will not disappoint purists. Chewy and nice. Every cookie platter needs these!

Triple Chocolate Chip Cookies
This is chocolate taken to the nth degree. It's where chocolate ends because it can't get any more chocolatey than this.

United Layers of Carrot Cake . . .

2011-12-05T14:09:00.004-05:00

I don't know about you, but carrot cake sure seems like a distinctly American dessert to me. Despite the fact that carrots have for centuries been used in just about every conceivable culinary form, I want to believe that the modern carrot layer cake, blanketed in cream cheese frosting, stands tall as an American invention. Having moved beyond trendiness decades ago, the lofty treat has become a classic fixture on menus from coast to coast. A really good carrot cake is not something to be disregarded. A really good carrot cake is, on the contrary, something to be revered.

Famed Cake Love bakery owner Warren Brown, in his fun (and whimsically designed) cookbook, United Cakes of America, offers up a carrot cake recipe that I found pretty intriguing. One of its unique aspects involves mixing the shredded carrots with sugar and then letting them sit for a while to drain. I don't recall ever before seeing a carrot cake recipe that suggested doing that, but I don't think I'll ever make a carrot cake again that doesn't require this step.

It allows some of the excess juice to drain off while the carrots take on the sugar's sweetness. On top of that, the recipe calls for a relatively small amount of carrots--only 3/4 of a cup, which I also liked. Often, it seems to me, cakes featuring one particular ingredient (carrots, beets, bananas, etc.) tend to go overboard in its use. Not so in this case.

Though I made several small adjustments to Brown's recipe, rewriting it in the process, I tried to keep with the spirit of his formula. One ingredient that undoubtedly makes his cake special, and that I unfortunately did not have on hand, was dried, chopped pineapple; I decided to substitute moist raisins instead, knowing that my husband likes them. Also, Brown calls for 1/4 cup of whole wheat flour; instead of regular whole wheat I opted to use white whole wheat flour, which is somewhat lighter and fluffier. Brown's version calls for the use of no spices at all. Though I found that omission interesting, I decided to add in a modicum of cinnamon, a dab of ground ginger, and a scant pinch of allspice. I also reduced the amount of chopped nuts in the batter from 1 cup to 3/4 cup.

This cake also differs from the norm in that it's not as super-moist and heavy as most typical carrot cakes seem to be. It's not oil-saturated, if you know what I mean. It uses a combo of melted butter along with a little oil, and it produces a carrot cake that, texturally, won't necessarily weigh you down the way some of them are bound to do. It has nice chewy bits of carrot and coconut. It's just really good.

I also think it's a cake that tastes best after being frosted and spending at least a day in the fridge. Gives the flavors a nice chance to mingle before serving. (Oh, and before I forget . . . you won't need your mixer to make the cake batter, but you will need it for the frosting.)

Carrot Layer Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Wet ingredients:
3/4 cup shredded carrots (I grated mine small, using a hand grater, and used well cleaned but unpeeled organic carrots.)
3/4 cup granulated sugar (Brown recommends superfine sugar, so use that if you want to.)
1 and 1/2 sticks (6 oz.) unsalted butter, melted
3 Tbsp. vegetable oil (I used canola oil.)
5 large eggs, lightly beaten

Dry ingredients:
1 cup granulated sugar (Again, Brown suggests superfine sugar; use that if you like.)
1/2 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
2 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
1/4 white whole wheat flour (Brown suggests regular whole wheat flour, but white whole wheat is lighter and has the same nutritional value.)
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt (I used 1 generous tsp. of kosher salt.)
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
1 scant pinch allspice
1 cup coconut, dried, unsweetened, and finely shredded (This "dessicated" coconut can be found in health food stores; look there if you can't find it in the grocery store. If you can't find this, you can still use sweetened coconut, but chop it finely before adding it to the batter.)

3/4 cup walnuts or pecans, chopped small
1 cup raisins (Use moist raisins to start with, or soak your raisins in warm water for about 15 minutes then drain them thoroughly before adding to the batter.)

For the cream cheese frosting:

16 oz. of cream cheese at room temperature (Definitely use a thick, rich brand like Philadelphia.)
3/4 of a stick (3 oz.) of unsalted butter, softened
2 tsp. vanilla extract
4 cups (about 16 oz.) confectioners' sugar
1 very scant pinch of fine-grain salt (Add this if you like. I think it helps cut the sweetness.)

*****

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease two 9" round baking pans. Line them with circles of parchment paper, and then lightly grease the parchment.

Mix the carrots and 3/4 cup of sugar in a medium size bowl and dump them into a sieve or colander. Set it over the bowl and let this drain while you prepare the rest of the batter. You'll end up discarding the drained juice.

In a medium size bowl, whisk together the melted butter, oil, and lightly beaten eggs.

In a large bowl, stir together the granulated sugar, light brown sugar, all purpose flour, white whole wheat flour, baking powder, salt, spices, coconut, and chopped nuts.

In a small bowl, stir together the raisins and carrots.

Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the wet ingredients (butter, oil, eggs). Stir well to combine. Toss in the raisin and carrot mixture, stirring just to blend evenly.

Divide the batter between the two prepared pans and smooth it out with an offset spatula or the back of a large spoon.

Bake for about 30 to 35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the top comes out mostly clean. Don't overbake; the sides of the cake should just be starting to pull away from the sides of the pan. Cool the cakes in their pans, on a rack, to room almost temperature. Invert them onto racks and peel off the parchment paper. Let them finish cooling completely before assembling with frosting.

To make the frosting:

In the large bowl of your mixer, on medium speed, beat the cream cheese until smooth. Add in the butter and vanilla until well combined. Gradually add in the confectioners' sugar on low speed, stopping to scrape as needed. If the frosting is extremely soft, chill it a bit before frosting the cake. Frost the layers when they're cool and, if you like, pat more chopped nuts onto the sides of the cake all around (you'll need about another cup of chopped nuts for this). Keep the finished cake in the fridge until shortly before serving.

*(And if you'd like to see another carrot layer-cake recipe that I posted previously, for a very moist cake made with crushed pineapple in the batter, check out this link).

If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!

Triple Chocolate Espresso Cheesecake . . . (What You Really Want for Christmas)

2011-11-29T09:11:00.001-05:00

I have, for weeks now, been in the throes of cleaning out my late parents' house in preparation for putting it on the market. I'm finally very close to being done, and I look forward to having more free time for holiday baking before Christmas is upon us. When you're sorting through the household miscellany, memorabilia, and detritus of a household that was occupied for 56 years by the same folks, you tend to encounter a few surprises--some extraordinarily wonderful, and others of the sort that will just have you scratching your head.

On the delightful side, I found a shoe-box sized container, tucked away in a seldom-visited closet, that was chock full of love notes from my father to my mother, most of them written in the months preceding their wedding day. Penned or typewritten on yellowed sheets of office scrap paper (they'd worked for the same company), the notes are without exception idealistic, funny, tender, and adoring. I can see why my mom saved every single one.

Toward the odder end of the spectrum, I found more springform pans than any one woman could use or destroy in a lifetime. I knew there were several stashed here and there in that house, having already adopted a couple of them when my mom first passed away, but I don't think I ever realized the true profusion that she'd accumulated over the years. She'd clearly been on a decades-long hunt for the perfect springform pan, relegating her cast-offs to the basement as she procured new and improved versions.

Some women of her era collected figurines and knick-knacks. She collected baking paraphernalia. And she did have a solid reputation for making truly fine cheesecakes--no doubt about that--so I guess she invested wisely.

About this recipe . . .

In celebration of that multitude of springform pans, I offer up this dark, dense, chocolate espresso cheesecake recipe. Where is it from? Well, you may laugh when I tell you that I adapted it from a recipe printed on a promotional wall calendar that came from an old-fashioned Italian bakery, in this neck of the woods, called Julian Bros. It turned out exceptionally well and I served it as one of the dessert options on Thanksgiving. If you love dark chocolate and coffee, you'll undoubtedly enjoy this cheesecake. If you prefer sweeter chocolate and don't care for coffee, make it exclusively with semi-sweet chocolate and omit the espresso powder altogether.

Triple Chocolate Espresso Cheesecake

(For a printable version of of this recipe, click here!)

Have ready one 9" x 3" springform pan. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees if you're using a dark-surfaced pan, and to 325 if you're not.

2 and 1/2 cups finely crushed chocolate graham-cracker crumbs
1/2 tsp. almond extract
1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp. malted butter (I used unsalted.)
1 scant pinch of kosher salt
8 oz. of good quality dark chocolate (Avoid using chocolate chips.)
4 oz. of good quality semi-sweet baking chocolate (Again, avoid using chocolate chips.)

4 eight-oz. packages (2 lbs. total) of cream cheese, softened and no cooler than room temperature (Use a thick, reliable cream cheese like Philadelphia brand.)
3 large eggs, at room temperature (Important that they're not at all cold; you can warm them quickly from the fridge, in their shells, by placing them in a bowl of very warm water for a few minutes.)
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. fine espresso powder (Or more, but only if you're completely crazy about this stuff.)
3 Tbsp. heavy cream (at room temperature)
1 tsp. vanilla extract

One 2 to 3 oz. chunk of milk chocolate, if you'd like to decorate the top of the baked cake with curls.

In a medium size bowl, toss the chocolate graham cracker crumbs with the salt; add in the melted butter and the almond extract, mixing with a fork until the crumbs are all moistened. Dump the mixture into your springform pan and press it firmly and evenly onto the bottom of the pan and an inch or so up the sides (don't worry if the sides aren't of even height all around). Set aside.

In a small bowl, whisk together the sugar and the espresso powder. Set aside.

Slowly melt the dark and semi-sweet chocolate together. This can be done in the microwave if you're very watchful and careful, heating for several seconds, then checking and stirring, repeatedly. Or, melt the chocolate in a double boiler on the stove top over low heat, being vigilant that not a single drop of water gets into the chocolate. Keep the melted chocolate slightly warm; it needs to be fluid but not hot when it's eventually added into the cheesecake batter.

In the large bowl of your mixer, on low speed, beat the cream cheese for a few minutes until smooth. If it still feels at all cold, keep slowly beating until it's truly room temperature. Into this, add the melted chocolate, still on low speed. Pour in the sugar mixture and the heavy cream, beating now on low-medium speed until well blended (you don't want to beat so quickly that you add air into the batter). One at a time, add in the eggs on low speed, beating until they're completely incorporated (perhaps a minute for each egg). Add in the vanilla extract.

Pour the batter into the springform pan over the crust. Bake in the middle of the oven, uncovered and without a water bath (believe it or not!), for approximately 40 to 50 minutes. Remove from the oven when the surface looks slightly dry and the cake still visibly jiggles in the center; don't overbake. Remove the cake from the oven carefully and let it first start to cool in a fairly warm spot, like atop the stove, on a rack. Leave it there to cool for at least an hour before moving it to a cooler spot to cool completely. Refrigerate the cake for at least several hours or overnight, still in its springform pan. Before removing the sides of the pan from the cake, run an extremely thin metal spatula around the upper half of the sides to help loosen it.

Decorate the cake top before serving with milk chocolate curls. Make the curls using a vegetable peeler and a chunk of chocolate that's room temperate or slightly warmer. The curls are very delicate, so don't touch them with your fingers if you can help it. Lift them onto the cake with a thin metal spatula, or something equally unlikely to break them.

Swedish Batter Bread with Cinnamon and Cranberries . . .

2011-11-13T08:30:00.002-05:00

My husband walked into the kitchen, spotted this newly baked item on the kitchen counter, and asked the question I'd been anticipating.

Him: "What kind of bundt cake is that?"
Me: "Um, well, actually it's not a bundt cake. It's called Swedish batter bread, with cinnamon and dried cranberries. It's made with yeast."

Him: "Really? But didn't you bake it in one of those bundt pans?"
Me: "No. It was made in a kugelhopf pan."
Brief silence.
Him, with affectionate sarcasm: "Ohhhh, of course. A kugelhopf pan. I should have known."

He loves to tease me about the odd minutiae of baking. The wacky pans, the loonier methods/techniques, the sometimes off-beat ingredients. And that's okay with me. I figure it helps keep me from taking all of this too seriously. I assumed he'd have something funny to say about this particular recipe, because this is one of those baked goods that's not easily categorized.

It has the texture of a hearty cake or maybe even a muffin, which I found kind of surprising. I'd expected it to be at least a little more bready. The flavor, though, was as I expected--nicely mild, not very sweet, but still cinnamony. Luckily, Andy (the hubby), really loved this batter bread. He munched it with coffee in the morning for a few days, and I tucked a little piece of it into his lunchbox. Yesterday, when it was legitimately stale and he found out I'd thrown the small remainder away, he pretended to cry. That guy.

About this recipe . . .

Adapted from The Great Scandinavian Baking Book by Beatrice Ojakangas (a wonderful book, by the way), this batter bread was originally intended to feature saffron and golden raisins. I toyed with the idea of using saffron with dried cranberries (I'm not crazy about golden raisins), but then realized I wasn't even in a saffron mood at all. I was in a cinnamon mood.

I also decided to refrain from sprinkling the finished bread with the recommended powdered sugar, and used cinnamon sugar instead. That was a good choice. I modified the method for putting this together slightly, used instant yeast instead of active dry, and added in a little nutmeg along with the cinnamon. I reworded the recipe to reflect all of my changes.

Swedish Batter Bread with Cinnamon and Cranberries

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: One 10" loaf made in a kugelhopf, tube, or bundt pan

1 and 1/2 tsp. instant yeast (or, 1 package active dry yeast, which you'll need to proof in the 1/4 cup of warm water below)
1/4 cup lukewarm water
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup granulated sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1/4 tsp. salt (I used fine sea salt.)
1/2 cup milk, slightly warm (Ojakangas says to scald and cool the milk; whether this old-fashioned scalding step is still necessary these days with modern milk is up for debate. In any case, use milk that's warm. I did not scald it first.)
1 and 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg (Freshly ground is best; do it yourself when possible!)
3 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
3/4 cup dried cranberries
3 Tbsp. granulated sugar mixed with 1 tsp. ground cinnamon (to sprinkle on finished bread)

In the large bowl of your mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until fluffy. Add in the room-temperature eggs along with the salt, beating until smooth. On the lowest speed, add in the yeast, water, and milk. Add in the flour gradually, still on the low speed. Raise the speed to medium, and beat for five minutes, stopping to scrape the bowl and beaters now and then.

Add in the cranberries on low speed, mixing until combined.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap, place it in a warm spot, and let the batter rise until it's doubled in size; this will take about 1and 1/2 to 2 hours.

Prepare your pan by liberally brushing it with soft, unsalted butter and lightly flouring it, or use baking spray (if you use baking spray, be careful not to let it pool in the bottom of the pan. Before you transfer your batter from the bowl into the pan, use a pastry brush to even it out and make sure you've gotten all the nooks and crannies, especially if you're using a kugelhopf/bundt pan.)

When the batter has doubled, stir it down; it will deflate considerably. Pour all of the batter into the prepared pan. Cover the top of the pan with plastic wrap and place it in a warm spot until the batter approaches the top of the pan (I let my batter rise to about an inch from the top of the pan); this should take about 1 hour.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees while the batter's rising.

Bake the bread for about 40 to 45 minutes. It should be quite golden brown on the outside. I tested mine with a toothpick, too.

Cool the bread in its pan for 15 minutes then invert it onto a cooling rack.

While still warm but not hot, set the bread still on its rack over a baking sheet and liberally dust the top of it with the cinnamon sugar.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Fluffy Pumpkin Muffins with Coconut and Pecans . . . Get a Handle on Your Pumpkin!

2011-10-27T16:44:00.001-04:00

A few weeks ago rumors circulated that there might be a pumpkin shortage again this fall. Did you hear that, too? I'd expected that might be true for some of the storm-battered eastern states, but I decided to check the Michigan State University agricultural extension service site and here's what it said, "Reports of lower than average yields of pumpkins are coming in, but the quality of the fruit and 'handles' is excellent."

Isn't it cute how they refer to the pumpkin stems as "handles"? Pumpkin farmers must be fairly whimsical folks, don't you think?

Anyway, whenever I happen to meander down the baking aisle this time of year I try to remember to grab one or two of the plump orange cans. Can't let October slide by without producing at least one batch of really good pumpkin muffins.

In light of that, I thought I'd take the opportunity to try out a slightly adapted version of the pumpkin muffins in Sarabeth's Bakery: From My Hands to Yours, by Sarabeth Levine. Even if I've mentioned this book to you in the past, I have to say again how sumptuous it is. It's a large, lush book with recipes that are not only well written, but simply-structured. Nothing real way out and exotic, just page after page of enduringly appealing recipes. And even if you never bake one thing from it (but why would you not?), it's pretty enough to live on your coffee table.

For these muffins, I followed Levine's basic recipe but decided to omit the raisins and sunflower seeds altogether (my younger son, Nathan, heaves a pathetic sigh whenever I add raisins to anything), added in some chopped sweetened coconut and pecans instead, slightly increased the amount of salt, and reworded the instructions. The assembly process is not like that of a typical quick bread, but more reminiscent of the way you'd assemble batter for a butter-based cake. You'll definitely need your mixer. These muffins puff up beautifully and aren't overly sweet. They call for pastry flour, which can be tricky to find though I see it with increasing frequency in gourmet markets and in health food stores, and superfine sugar, which seems to be more readily available now in regular supermarkets (the kind I buy comes in a paper carton). I assume these muffins would still be really good even if made with all-purpose flour and regular granulated sugar.

Pumpkin Muffins with Coconut and Pecans

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: At least 12 generous regular-size muffins, or at least 24 minis

Preheat oven to 400. Grease, butter, spray with vegetable spray, or use paper liners in a 12-cup muffin pan or a 24-cup mini-muffin pan. (I just used paper liners for mine, but I sprayed the top of the pan--not the cups--so the muffin tops wouldn't stick.)

3 and 2/3 cups pastry flour, sifted
1 Tbsp. and 1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground ginger
1/4 tsp. fresh ground nutmeg
scant 1/2 tsp. fine sea salt (Or use kosher salt.)
1 stick unsalted butter, cold and cut into 1/2 inch chunks
1 and 1/3 cups superfine sugar
4 eggs, large, at room temperature, and lightly beaten
One 15-oz. can of solid-pack pumpkin
1/2 cup pecans
1/2 cup sweetened, shredded coconut

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt. Set aside.

Mix together the coconut and pecans. Roughly chop them on a cutting board, not too finely. Separate out 1/4 cup to sprinkle over the unbaked muffins.

In the large bowl of your mixer, beat the butter on high speed for approximately one minute, until it looks creamy. Slowly add in the sugar, still on high speed, and beat until its color lightens and it looks kind of fluffy; this should take about 5 minutes. Be sure to stop and scrape bowl and beaters periodically.

Add in the eggs gradually, beating until well combined. On low speed, add in the pumpkin. Don't worry if the mixture looks curdled. Still on low speed, add the flour in thirds, beating just until smooth. Pour in the 3/4 cup of chopped coconut and pecans pieces and blend just until evenly combined.

Using a portion scoop (an ice cream type scoop), divide the batter evenly into your muffin cups, mounding it high. Sprinkle the remaining 1/4 cup coconut-pecan pieces over the tops.

Bake at 400 degrees, on the middle rack of your oven, for 10 minutes; lower the temperature to 375 and continue baking--perhaps 10 to 15 more minutes--until the muffin tops are nicely golden and a toothpick inserted in the center of one of the muffins comes out clean.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Chocolate-Almond Filled Coffee Braid . . . and that Music in the Distance

2011-10-18T08:34:00.001-04:00

A few days ago, as I sat in the same spot where I am now, windows open and the cool autumn air breezing in, I could hear my younger son's high school marching band practicing in the distance. They were already outside the school at 8 a.m., their band class well underway, polishing things up for their next performance. Though at least half a mile east of my house, I could clearly hear the telltale thump of the percussion players and the brassy wail of the trumpets.

I love this kind of thing.

I love the fact that I live in a city small and compact enough that this is even possible. From the other direction, to the northwest just a couple of blocks, I can also hear little kids squealing at recess later in the day, outside of the elementary school my boys attended years ago. Then, each evening precisely at 6pm, bells reliably ring out from a church nearby. It's a cozy feeling.

This comparatively tiny community that we occupy just north of Detroit is, in fact, remarkably unlike the huge suburb where I grew up, which was sprawling and seemed to me, back then at least, to be a rather characterless place that had no discernible center.

It's comforting living in a small place, especially when bigger cities and all they offer aren't far away. You never have to feel lost here, either literally or figuratively. It's practically impossible to go outside without seeing someone you know well enough to chat with or, at the very least, someone you recognize. This little metropolis isn't fancy by any means but, as corny and cliche as this must sound, it's loaded with heart.

And what does that preamble have to do with today's recipe? Well, if I hadn't been alone in my kitchen with the windows open, working quietly on this chocolate almond braid, I wouldn't have heard that music or the joyous shrieks and squeals later in the day. Nor would I have had yet another opportunity to experience the simple satisfaction of actually liking where I live.

And, so, once more I realize that baking offers benefits beyond the obvious. It can be calming and contemplative, sort of like gardening or taking a long walk. I don't think it would be stretching it to say that I find the activity of baking restorative. I seem to turn to it for all sorts of reasons.

Is it like that for you, too?

About this recipe . . .

Remember the collapse of that giant bookshelf I told you about in my last post? That event catalyzed my husband and I to do long overdue sorting, discarding, and reorganizing. (Let's just say the garbage man must be wondering what the heck happened around here, and my paper shredder is considering joining a labor union.) Anyway, while sorting this and that, I found a faded magazine clipping bearing this recipe among a pile of stuff I'd saved in an old file cabinet. From the February 1989 issue of Good Housekeeping magazine, this is the kind of baked good that many such magazines don't seem to print anymore. It's beautifully old-fashioned, like something one of your favorite aunts would famously bring to big family parties when you were a kid. It's a not-too-sweet yeast bread filled with a mixture made of cream cheese, almond paste, and semi-sweet chocolate.

I changed very little in the recipe, but substantially reworded it to reflect exactly how I customized its preparation. I used an instant yeast specifically designed for rich, sweet doughs vs. regular active dry yeast (though I have no doubt it would be fine with the latter). Part of my almond paste was homemade vs. purchased, because I only had about 5 oz. of the store-bought stuff on hand. (I do think professionally produced almond paste tastes better, is more concentrated, and has better texture and color than most homemade versions. I haven't yet perfected making the stuff at home.)

Beware: This makes a really large loaf! You will get at least 16 very generous slices out of this baby, easy. And it's not shaped into a real braid--it's just a faux braid, so don't get scared; it's really easy to make. The loaf I made was probably 18" long and 7" wide, after baking. Next time, I might cut the dough in half and make two smaller loaves, though the big loaf is certainly impressive in its own enormous way!

Chocolate-Almond Coffee Braid
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Makes one large 18" loaf (at least 16 thick slices).

For the dough:
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher.)
1 and 3/4 tsp. instant yeast (I always use instant, but it's fine to use 1 pkt. active dry yeast instead.)
Approx. 5 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
3/4 cup milk (I used 2 percent.)
5 Tbsp. butter, unsalted
2 eggs, large

1 egg white (to mix with water and brush on the unbaked loaf)
2 oz. semi-sweet baking chocolate (to melt and drizzle on the baked loaf)

For the chocolate-almond filling
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
7 to 8 oz. almond paste (not the same thing as marzipan, just fyi!)
1 egg yolk
3 oz. of semi-sweet baking chocolate, chopped into very small pieces

For the streusel topping:
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature
3 Tbsp. sliced almonds

To prepare the dough:

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on low speed, combine the sugar, salt, yeast, and 1 cup of the flour.

In a microwave safe bowl, or on the stove top in a saucepan, slightly warm the milk, butter, and 1/4 cup of water until just lukewarm. You don't need to fully melt the butter. With the mixer on low speed, pour the liquid into the dry ingredients; beat only until blended. Now at medium speed, beat for about 2 minutes, stopping to scrape now and then. Beat in the eggs, along with 2 more cups of the flour; blend for 2 minutes.

Remove the bowl from the mixer, and add in 1 and 1/2 cups more of the flour, stirring by hand with a wooden spoon or a dough whisk (I love my dough whisk). The dough will be pretty soft.

Flour your work surface and dump the dough onto it.

Keep 1/2 cup of flour close at hand. Knead the dough until its texture is smooth and elastic, adding more flour to your surface and to the dough as needed; this could take up to ten minutes. (If you decide to do this step on your mixer, using the dough hook, cut the kneading time in half. Be watchful, in any case, not to overwork the dough. You'll know you've gone too far if the dough suddenly seems slack, lifeless, and lacks elasticity; if this happens, the dough can't be salvaged and there is nothing to be done but to start over. Over-mixing is more likely to occur with a rich dough like this than with a lean dough like that for a simple white bread.)

Round the dough into a ball and place it into a well-greased or oiled bowl, or spray the bowl with vegetable oil spray, like Pam--that's what I use. Turn the ball over in the bowl so it's coated. Spray/grease a sheet of plastic wrap on one side and put that, sprayed side down, over the bowl.

Cover the whole thing with a lightweight dish towel and place it in a warm, draft-free spot to rise. The dough should approximately double in size within about one hour.

While the dough is rising, make the chocolate-almond filling and the streusel.

To make the chocolate-almond filling:
Put the cream cheese, almond paste (broken into chunks), and 1 egg yolk into the large bowl of your mixer. Using the paddle attachment, blend together until on low speed until the mixture smooths out. Add the chopped chocolate and blend it in. Store the filling in the refrigerator until you're ready to use it.

To make the streusel:
Mix the flour, sugar, and butter together in a small bowl using your fingers. You want the streusel to look like big, coarse, uneven crumbs. Add in the sliced almonds last, being careful not to break all them into bits. Store the streusel in the fridge until ready to use.

When the dough has doubled in size:
Dump the risen dough out onto a very lightly floured surface and press it firmly but gently with the palms of your hands. You are just trying to deflate it (or "de-gas" it as a baking teacher would tell you!). Lightly cover the deflated dough with the greased plastic wrap and let it rest for 10 to 15 minutes.

Prepare your workspace for rolling out the dough. You can roll it right on a large baking sheet if you prefer, but I wanted to roll out my dough on the piece of parchment on which it would actually bake (you can then just slide the whole thing, paper and all, right onto your baking sheet). To keep the parchment from sliding around, I clipped the edge of it to my worktable with a big, strong, binder clip.

Flour your rolling pin. Put the rested dough onto your surface and roll the dough into a rounded rectangle about 16" long and 12" wide.

Remove your filling from the fridge, give it a good stir, and spread all of it in a 4" strip down the center of the dough, lengthwise.

Using a pizza/pastry wheel, cut slits in the dough on each side, almost up to the point of the filling (the strips created by the slits can be narrow or wide, as you prefer; my strips were slightly over 1/2" wide).

Then, starting at the top, lifting the strips one by one alternately from each side, fold them over the filling. Do this for the whole length of the loaf, then pinch the two far ends tightly closed with your fingers.

Cover the loaf again with greased/sprayed plastic wrap and cover it with the dish towel. Let it rise again (ie., let it "proof") in a warm spot; this time for 30 minutes. It will expand, but not necessarily by much. Don't wait for it to double in size.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Mix the egg white in a little bowl with a tablespoon or two of water. Using a pastry brush, gently and lightly coat the unbaked loaf when it's done proofing (that is, when it's done with its final rise).

Sprinkle all of the streusel evenly in a strip down the center length of the loaf.

Bake the loaf on a large sheet pan (it will expand in the oven, so plan accordingly!) for about 30 minutes, until it's golden all over. Check it about 20 minutes into the baking time and, if it's browning quickly, cover it lightly with foil. Also, reverse the pan from back to front for more even heat and color.

When the loaf is done, let it cool on the pan for a few minutes, then move it to a cooling rack. When the loaf is cooled, melt the semi-sweet chocolate carefully in the microwave (chocolate burns really quickly), and pour it into a zip-lock sandwich bag. Using a sharp pair of scissors, cut an extremely tiny hole in one of the corners of the bag. Cut it just enough to let a dinky little stream of chocolate flow through when you squeeze the bag. Drizzle the chocolate back and forth over the entire loaf.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

English Apple Shortcake with Brown Sugar & Cream-Cheese Crust . . .

2011-10-01T11:52:00.002-04:00

Household circumstances sometimes have a way of forcing your hand. You know what I mean. There's the long front hedge bordering your neighbor's driveway, so shaggy at times it demands to be trimmed lest it bring shame upon the family. There's the faucet that gasps and yawns and refuses to put in an honest day's work until the plumber is finally called in.

And, this morning, there was the problem of the ignored bookshelf. I'm talking about the big 7x4-footer with six really deep shelves. It was barely 9 a.m. when that thing finally gave up the ghost, collapsing under its burden with a mighty crash.

I was in the basement, romancing the ironing board again, when thunder rumbled above my head. Instantly I knew what had happened. I'd been expecting just such a catastrophe. I merely nodded to myself in acknowledgment and kept on ironing. I'd confront the monster soon enough.

The warning signs had been staring me in the face for months, but I'd ignored them. I'd ignored the obscenely overladen shelves, each one sagging in the middle like a tired mule. I'd ignored the fact that the brackets holding up each shelf were pathetically inadequate even to my untrained eye.

Eventually I trudged upstairs and stood there silently, gazing in resigned disgust at the aftermath. Books that had been packed together sardine-style had thunked to the floor willy nilly, a few stragglers still plummeting now and then in solidarity.

The resulting pile was about 18" deep, easily six feet wide, and thoroughly impassable. It was the Niagara Falls of literature. I thanked the fates that my husband hadn't had to face this right before heading off to work. It would have been too much for him. There would have been copious cussing. Better it happened this way.

About this recipe . . .

As in so much of life, such mishaps often reveal their own silver lining. As I was sorting and stacking the victims, one volume fell open at my feet and a particular page caught my eye. It was The Kitchen Diaries: A Year in the Kitchen with Nigel Slater. (Slater, in case you're unfamiliar, is a British food writer and a passionate home cook.) I sat down amidst the destruction and read through the recipe that inspired today's dessert.

I made a few small changes to Slater's formula and ended up with something wonderful. Instead of using Bramley apples (which I've never seen in Michigan), I used Sweet Tango apples; they're firm, crunchy, and they'll make you pucker. Instead of turbinado sugar in the crust dough, I used light brown sugar, and I subbed some cream cheese for part of the butter, also adding in a generous pinch of kosher salt. I added a mixture of superfine- and light brown sugars to lightly caramelize the simmering apples, instead of just using a very small amount of superfine alone. We served this with a dollop of delicately sweetened whipped cream on top. Especially when served slightly warm, this makes for a comforting and rustic dessert.

English Apple Shortcake with Brown Sugar & Cream-Cheese Crust

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and place a metal baking sheet in the oven to heat up. Butter a 9" or 10" pie, cake, casserole, or quiche pan.

For the crust:
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1/4 cup cream cheese, room temperature
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1 egg, large, at cool room temperature
2 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
1 and 1/4 tsp. baking powder
1 generous pinch kosher salt

For the filling:

2 and 3/4 lbs. firm, tart, and sweet apples (I recommend Sweet Tango or Honey Crisp apples.)
half of a lemon
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1/4 cup superfine sugar
1/3 cup light brown sugar

For the top of the crust, before baking:

A couple tablespoons of milk, half & half, or cream
2 Tbsp. superfine sugar

Peel and core all of the apples, and slice them as you would for apple pie (I made my slices at least 1/4" thick). Put the slices into a big bowl of cold water and squeeze the lemon-half over them; this will help keep them from turning brown while you're preparing the crust. Set the bowl aside.

In a medium size bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In the large bowl of your mixer, on medium speed, cream together the butter, cream cheese, and brown sugar for a few minutes, until light and fluffy. Blend in the egg.

On low speed, add in the dry ingredients and blend until combined.

Dump the dough, which will be very soft, onto a heavily floured surface (do not skimp on the flour!).

Flour your hands, and knead the dough a few times, just for a minute or so, until it's smooth.

Divide the dough into two equal parts. Use a rolling pin to roll out half the dough; it will be thick. Carefully transfer the rolled out dough into the buttered pan and press it gently into the corners. It doesn't have to look perfect. Wrap up the second piece of dough in plastic wrap and place it in the fridge along with the dough-lined pan, while you finish prepping the apples.

Drain the apples in a colander. Heat a large frying/saute pan, and add the 4 Tbsp. of butter. Toss the apple slices into the hot butter and let them simmer over medium heat until the butter looks frothy and the apples start to just soften around the edges, stirring now and then.

Raise the heat and sprinkle the 1/4 superfine sugar and 1/3 cup light brown sugar over the apples. Cook the apples until they just begin to caramelize; they should be slightly soft and have taken on a deeper yellow color. Take the pan off the heat.

Remove the second dough half from the fridge and roll it out as you did the first piece.

Remove the dough-lined pan from the fridge. Spoon the apple slices into the dough-lined pan.

Carefully place the top crust over that.

Pinch the edges closed.

Use a pastry brush to coat the top crust with milk or cream, but don't brush it on the outer edge (that'll be the first area to burn). Sprinkle liberally with superfine sugar.

Bake the shortcake for up to about 40 minutes, or until it's fully golden and feels firm. Let the finished shortcake cool on a rack until it's no longer hot.

Good served warm or cold, with sweetened whipped cream.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Announcing the Winner of "A Baker's Field Guide" Giveaway!

2011-09-28T16:11:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to let you know that the lucky winner of A Baker's Field Guide--the four volume set--is Mary/Kit Redmond! Mary confessed in her comment that her favorite cookie is a fabulous chocolate espresso shortbread. Sounds divine to me!

To collect your prize, Mary, please email me at janessweets@gmail.com to send me your name and address. Your books will then be en route to you right away. Congratulations and happy baking!

Buckeye Chocolate-Chip Cookie Cups and a Giveaway: A Baker's Field Guide, by Dede Wilson (the four volume set!)

2011-09-23T12:17:00.002-04:00

Will the real buckeye please stand up? Because I wouldn't want to accidentally bite into the kind of buckeye that grows on a tree in Ohio. What I would want to bite into is the kind of buckeye that's peanut butter filled, dipped in chocolate, and plopped into chocolate chip cookie dough that's been baking in a cupcake pan.

I knew it was inevitable that I'd eventually make buckeye candies the moment that Charlie, my older son, divulged his final college choice late last April. He was fortunate in having a few great options, and as the decision deadline approached, my husband and I were on pins and needles awaiting the verdict. We were both happy and relieved that the winning choice was Ohio State, land of anything and everything buckeye, and less than a four hour drive from our house. So last Sunday, after months of anticipation and weeks of preparation, we drove Charlie down to Columbus, moved him in, met his roommates, then said our hug-laden goodbyes.

We'd successfully deposited our first child into the waiting arms of academia and, well, there wasn't much left to do but grab a hamburger and hit the road back to Michigan. Joy? Pride? Amazement? Apprehension? I feel them all. And I keep having non-stop mom-thoughts: Did he remember to bring an umbrella? He didn't pack that scary-looking hunting knife he owns, did he? Why didn't he bring that cute collapsible under-bed storage thingie I got him? Hmmm . . .

Now, our home is perhaps 25 percent quieter, there are fewer dirty towels to wash, and I don't have to wonder what time he'll turn into the driveway late on a weekend night. It's sort of as if he's away at a really big camp where they don't make s'mores or play taps at bedtime. But the kid's a force of nature, and I must say I miss him and the way he would always swoop in the backdoor after school or work, say hi to me, grab a snack, race to change his clothes, and swoop out the door again after giving me a peck on the cheek. That's my Charlie--a whirling bundle of barely-contained, teenage-boy energy.

I hope they like energy at Ohio State.

Thus, the Buckeye cookie cups . . .
Buckeye candies are a close cousin to the peanut butter cup. They're easy to make at home and so darn good. My idea to put them into this particular recipe came to me as I was browsing through my recently (and gleefully) received review copy of A Baker's Field Guide to Chocolate Chip Cookies, by Dede Wilson.

That "field guide" above is just one volume in a fabulous four-volume set that also includes A Baker's Field Guide to Christmas Cookies, A Baker's Field Guide to Holiday Candy & Confections, and A Baker's Field Guide to Cupcakes. Holy moly!

The Harvard Common Press of Boston was kind enough to offer me two sets of these wonderful books; one review set for me to keep (yay!) and one set to give away to one of you (double yay!). Thank you so very much, HCP!

Do you want these books, too?

Rhetorical question. I know you do. To throw your hat into the mixing bowl, so to speak, just leave a comment on this post telling me about one of your favorite cookie, candy, or cupcake recipes! That's all there is to it. I'll announce the lucky winner here on Wednesday, Sept. 28th, so be sure check back.

About these recipes . . .

This cookie-cup was adapted from the recipe for "Caramel Surprise Chocolate Chip Cups" in A Baker's Field Guide to Chocolate Chip Cookies; that recipe suggests the use of Rolo candies inserted into mini-size cookie cups. But I wanted to do something with all these hefty buckeyes I'd made and, to accommodate their girth (they were about as big as whole walnuts--no kidding), I needed correspondingly roomy cookie cups, so I used regular size cupcake pans. (The basic recipe I adapted for the buckeye candies came from the book, Who Wants Candy?, by Jane Sharrock--another fun book to check out.)

BUCKEYE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE CUPS
(For printable versions of these recipes, click here!)

To make the buckeye candies:
(Yield: at least 36 buckeyes)

1 and 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter (I used Jiff brand)
1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 and 1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tiny pinch of salt
3 to 3-1/4 cups confectioners' sugar
5 oz. of a dark chocolate candy coating (I used part of a Ghirardelli Double Chocolate Flavored Candy Making & Dipping Bar)
3 oz. baking chocolate or semisweet chocolate chips (I used part of a Ghirardelli 60% Cacao Bittersweet Chocolate Baking Bar)

In the large bowl of your mixer, on low speed, blend together the peanut butter and butter. Add in the salt and vanilla extract. Add in the confectioners' sugar gradually. You want the mixture to hold together easily when you roll a little glob of it between your palms into a ball, but you don't want it to be too soft. It should also not be crumbly. Keep adding sugar, and adjust the consistency as needed with more peanut butter.

Form into balls no more than 1" in diameter (that's how big mine were and they were pretty hefty; I think smaller might be better!), placing them on a parchment sheet placed over a rimmed baking sheet. Put the balls into the freezer while you melt the chocolate.

Break up the chocolate into a small bowl and slowly melt it in the microwave, using extreme care to avoid overheating the chocolate, and stirring gently every now and then when you check it. Be careful as well, to avoid getting any water at all into the chocolate; even one drop of water can cause it to seize, which will completely ruin it.

Another option is to slowly melt the chocolate in a metal bowl placed atop a pan of gently simmering water (making sure the water doesn't touch the bottom of the pan). Depending on what kind of chocolate you use, and whether or not it's specifically for coating or not, you may find you need to thin the mixture slightly after it's melted; you can do this by adding vegetable oil a couple of drops at a time and gently stirring it in. (If you are familiar with the process of tempering, and you want to use couverture chocolate for your buckeyes instead of the lesser coating chocolates available, go for it. If you have no experience with tempering chocolate at all, though, now may not be the best time to give it a try.) The consistency of the dipping chocolate you use, whatever it is, should be fairly thin when melted. You may need to make adjustments as you see fit.

When your peanut butter balls are cold and firm, use a toothpick to spear each one, and quickly dip it into the melted chocolate, leaving an uncoated circular area on the top, and swiping the bottom gently against the edge of the bowl to scrape off the excess chocolate. Set each coated ball on the parchment covered tray. You may end up with a little hole from the toothpick. Once the chocolate has firmed up, you can safely try to smooth the hole closed with your fingertip. If you have a special candy-dipping fork, you may be able to avoid the problem of the little hole by using that instead of a toothpick. Experiment to see what works best for you.

It will take several minutes for the dipped chocolate to firm up completely. Store the finished buckeyes in a dry and cool location until you're ready to use them in the cookie cups, or eat them as they are! (I layered mine with parchment paper in a small cardboard cake box.)

To make the chocolate-chip cookie cups:
(Yield: At least 24 large-size cookie cups, with a little cookie batter leftover)

Grease 24 regular-size cupcake cups and then spray liberally with vegetable spray, or use paper cupcake liners in the pan(s).

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt (I used kosher salt.)
1 cup unsalted butter, softened (2 sticks)
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 eggs, large
2 cups mini-size semisweet chocolate chips

In a medium size bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt.
In the large bowl of your mixer, beat the butter until creamy on medium-high speed. Gradually add in the two sugars and beat until fluffy, about three minutes, stopping to scrape the bowl periodically. Blend in the vanilla, then add the eggs in one at a time, beating each until well combined. Add one third of the flour mixture on low speed, mixing just until combined; add in the rest of the flour gradually. Don't over-mix. On the lowest speed, pour in the mini chocolate chips, beating only until evenly incorporated.

Evenly portion the cookie batter into the cupcake pans (I used a no. 24 portion scoop; it holds 3 Tbsp. by volume).

Bake for about 10 minutes, until the cups have begun to turn golden. Remove them from the oven quickly and plop a buckeye into the middle of each one, gently pressing it down into the cup.

Put the pans right back into the oven and continue baking for about 6 more minutes or so. When they're quite golden, remove the trays and set them to cool on racks. Run a thin knife or metal spatula around the edges of the cups to loosen them before attempting to remove the cookie cups.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Banana Buckwheat Pancakes . . . with Wildflower Honey

2011-09-14T17:14:00.000-04:00

I learned a new word today . . . . pseudocereal. Yeah, I'm serious. It would seem that buckwheat flour is made from a plant that's not really wheat at all, but something that likes to masquerade as a cereal. Just as a pseudo-intellectual is a human who fancies himself worthy of the academic upper crust when in reality he's probably just mildly smarter than average, buckwheat has a similar identity crisis going on. Who knew plants could do that?

Not to be confused with the Buckwheat character of Little Rascals fame, the common buckwheat plant, also known as fagopyrum, produces small triangular seeds that resemble the seeds of the beech tree; it seems the word buckwheat may be a derivation/corruption of the pronunciation of the Dutch words for beech wheat. Utterly fascinating, right? Mmm hmm, I thought so too. Okay then, moving on . . .

So, did any of that factual flotsam and jetsam matter to me this morning as I was whipping these babies up? No sir, not a lick. All I know is that the basis for these hotcakes--pastry flour enhanced with a meaningful portion of whole grain buckwheat flour, a big over-ripe banana, a pinch of cinnamon, and a dollop of wildflower honey--make for a fabulous breakfast treat. On the heavily traveled thoroughfare of the American pancake continuum, these lean toward the healthier side of town, but you'd never know it based on their rich flavor and pleasing texture. Drizzle even the tiniest amount of honey over them, along with a few extra banana slices, and you have something wonderful with which to start the day.

About this recipe . . .

Adapted from Kim Boyce's recipe for pear and buckwheat pancakes in her appealingbook, Good to the Grain, I halved the amount of buckwheat flour, used regular pastry flour instead of whole grain pastry flour, used mashed banana instead of pear, added in a smidgen of wildflower honey, used canola oil instead of butter, and tossed in a pinch of cinnamon to boot. And, of course, I reworded things to reflect exactly what I did.

Banana Buckwheat Pancakes with Wildflower Honey
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1 and 1/2 cups pastry flour
3 Tbsp. granulated sugar

2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. kosher salt
1 pinch ground cinnamon

2 Tbsp. canola oil
1 and 1/2 Tbsp. honey (I used wildflower honey.)
1 and 1/4 cups whole milk (I didn't have any on hand so I used 1 and 1/4 cups of 2 percent milk, along with 1/4 cup of half-and-half.)
1 large egg
1 large very ripe banana, mashed

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flours, sugar, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon.

In a smaller bowl, whisk together the oil, honey, milk, egg, and mashed banana.

Add the liquid ingredients to the dry ingredients, mixing gently just until blended. Don't overmix.

If you have a nice non-stick skillet, and you prefer to add no more fat to the pancakes, go ahead and use that. Heat it over medium heat for a minute or so.

If using a regular skillet, be sure to add 2 to 3 Tbsp. of vegetable oil (I used canola) to the heated pan. Let the oil heat up, still over medium heat.

When your pan is hot, pour the batter on in 1/4- to 1/3 cup portions. Let the pancakes cook until quite a few bubbles start to form on the top of each one; flip them over with a thin spatula and cook them until their bottoms are quite golden. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes. Keep going with the remainder of the batter. Serve the pancakes with honey and banana slices on the side.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Fresh Apple Cake with Boiled Cider Glaze . . .

2011-09-10T21:10:00.000-04:00

Maybe you saw from my previous post that my father passed away recently? I mention this again only because, while he was ill over the latter half of the summer, my urge to bake just about completely fizzled. It was kind of like my inner pilot-light temporarily flickered out. I had other things on my mind, of course, and my energy was directed elsewhere. I guess baking for pleasure seemed like a frivolous pursuit.

But now, as I restart my internal baking engine, so to speak, I realize that I want to make things that are distinctly comfort inducing--dishes that remind me of why I love baking to begin with, and that evoke the sense of contentment I knew as a kid while watching my mom move confidently about her kitchen. I can still see the silver beaters on her Sunbeam mixer whirling in place as she hovered nearby, spatula poised, her blue eyes riveted on a bowl of pound-cake batter or thick chocolate icing. I don't think it would be stretching the truth to say that my dad enjoyed just about every food she ever prepared, and each night as we finished dinner, he'd thank her for having made it. I know that left an impression on me.

My dad loved the fact that I was always baking and I recall how surprised and charmed he was a couple of years ago when I informed him I was entering culinary school part-time to study the baking and pastry arts. He often asked me what I was working on, and occasionally requested that I make homemade bread for him, or peanut butter cookies, or creamy clam chowder. Eventually, he couldn't keep it in his mind that I was in culinary school at all, but that was okay. Though in the last several weeks he couldn't have told you what decade it was or what he'd had for lunch one minute after he ate it, he still recognized the most important things in life and, even up to the end, was still alert enough to give and receive expressions of love. I'll always be grateful for that.

About this recipe . . .

That desire of mine to bake comfort food brings me to today's fresh apple cake. Adapted from a recipe for apple rum cake found in pastry chef Nick Malgieri's book, Perfect Cakes, I omitted his use of the rum altogether and substituted a larger amount of boiled cider for the primary flavoring ingredient. I also used boiled cider in the glaze instead of rum, and I left raisins out of the batter as well.

What the heck is boiled cider, you may be asking? It's exactly what it sounds like. It's apple cider that has been slowly reduced in much the same way maple sap is cooked down into maple syrup. You can buy boiled cider in a bottle, like the kind I used for this recipe, or you can try making it yourself by simmering two cups of cider in an uncovered saucepan over low heat until it's shrunk down to 2/3 of a cup (that last bit of advice I found in my old copy of Richard Sax's indispensable book, Classic Home Desserts: A Treasury of Heirloom and Contemporary Recipes). Boiled cider still tastes exactly like cider, but in a richly concentrated form; it's very good.

I adjusted this cake recipe further by adding in restrained pinches of nutmeg and cinnamon--only enough to hint at their spicy presence, and of course I reworded it to reflect exactly what I did. Moist and satisfying, this simple cake is just right for early fall. Not too sweet, and the use of the boiled cider really pumps up the apple flavor. A good bet for brunch, dessert, or a nice afternoon snack with a cup of tea.

Fresh Apple Cake with Boiled Cider Glaze
(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

Yield: One 9" cake, baked in a springform pan.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9" springform pan, line the bottom of the pan with a 9" parchment paper circle, then butter the parchment.

Ingredients for the cake:
2 large tart apples (I used Granny Smiths), peeled, cored, halved, and sliced into pieces about 1/8" thick
3 Tbsp. boiled apple cider

2 and 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached)
2 tsp. baking powder
Scant 3/4 tsp. kosher salt
1 scant pinch ground cinnamon
1 scant pinch ground nutmeg

12 Tbsp. (1 and 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at soft room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs, large
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. milk

Ingredients for the glaze:
1 to 1-and-1/4 cups confectioners' sugar
2 to 4 Tbsp. boiled cider (depending on how thick or thin you prefer your glaze to be)

* * * * *

Mix the sliced apples and the 3 Tbsp. of boiled cider together in a bowl. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, kosher salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar together on medium speed until fluffy and light. One at a time, beat in the eggs, still on medium speed. Add in the vanilla.

Take the bowl off the mixer. Using a rubber spatula, fold in half the flour mixture.

Set a colander over an empty bowl and dump the apples along with their liquid into it. Let them drain a minute or so.

Add the milk into the cider drippings, then pour this liquid into the batter and stir it in.

Fold the remaining flour into the batter.

Evenly spread half of the batter into the bottom of the prepared springform pan. Use a small offset spatula (ideally), or the back of a spoon, to spread it out.

Scatter all of the apples over the top of the batter (they do not need to be neatly arranged); try to leave just a narrow margin of uncovered batter close to the sides of the pan.

Plop the remaining batter over that and spread it out smoothly.

Bake the cake on the middle rack of your oven for approximately 55 to 60 minutes, or until the cake feels firm, is golden brown, and apples seem tender. Test it with a toothpick if you like.

Cool the cake in its pan, set on a rack, for 15 minutes before attempting to remove the sides of the pan.

Run a thin metal spatula or knife around the edge before removing the sides. Then, invert the cake quickly and carefully onto a flat plate; lift off the bottom of the pan, peel off the parchment circle if it's stuck to the cake, then quickly reinvert the cake-bottom back onto the cooling rack. Let the unpanned cake cool fully on the rack.

To make the glaze:

With the confectioners' sugar in a medium-small bowl, begin adding in the boiled cider one tablespoon at a time, adding in more and stirring continually until all lumps are gone and the glaze is as thick or thin as you prefer.

Drizzle the glaze over the cooled cake, or serve it warm, drizzled over individual slices.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below.)

He Loved Coconut Cream Pie . . . Saying Goodbye to Grandpa John

2011-09-02T13:23:00.002-04:00

You may have noticed I haven't been posting as much as usual this summer, and there's been a good reason for that. My dad, whom we affectionately called Grandpa John, passed away yesterday morning at the ripe old age of 83 after a steep decline that began in July. I was spending some time with him everyday and I am so glad I had the opportunity to do so.

He was a really sweet guy. Kind of a quiet man, he loved opera music, the Detroit Tigers (one of his favorite phrases was, "Don't let the Tigers break your heart!"), difficult crossword puzzles, his grandsons Charlie and Nathan, and he never could resist a fluffy slice of coconut cream pie.

He's back with my mom now, I like to think, and I'll bet they're probably holding hands and smiling, somewhere out there in the great beyond. I miss him already.

I am looking forward to baking again very soon, and hope to be back in the blogging saddle again in a week or so. I may just have to make a nice coconut cream pie . . .

(I took the photo above--my dad's last picture--on Monday, August 29th, with my cell phone. He's shown there with Charlie, my 18-year old.)

Butterscotch Pudding with Butterscotch Almond Cookies . . . Like Love and Marriage!

2011-08-23T12:10:00.000-04:00

Some things were born to cohabit. They were just meant to be together. Like Adam and Eve, like Ken and Barbie, these chewy butterscotch-almond cookies, partnered with homemade butterscotch pudding, produce perfect harmony. I'm crazy about their complex flavor and just-right-to-bite texture.

Along with light brown sugar, almond meal (finely ground blanched almonds), and almond extract, their secret ingredient is a couple tablespoons of buckwheat honey. I was lucky enough to stumble upon a beekeeper selling raw Michigan buckwheat honey at Detroit's Eastern Market a couple of weekends ago and naturally I wasted no time in nabbing a bottle. Dark and dusky, buckwheat honey is kind of like a cross between molasses and maple syrup, but more distinctive than either. Some people describe its color as seeming almost purplish when the light shines through it. A little dab added to baked goods will have your taste-testers munching slowly while staring off into space, muttering to themselves, ". . . what is that I taste? It's really good . . . "

About these recipes . . .

The cookie formula is one I adapted from When Everybody Ate at Schrafft's: Memories, Pictures, and Recipes from a Very Special Restaurant Empire. Apparently, their homemade butterscotch cookies were a huge seller. Wish I'd been around when Schrafft's was in its heyday. I first heard about it as a kid, strictly through the old movies I watched on TV with my mom; seems like some character or other was always going there. "Meet me at Schrafft's," or, "Yeah, I discovered her sittin' on a stool in Schrafft's!" was a common refrain. This book is a hoot. I recommend it if you ever want to know more of the story.

I altered the recipe by using almond meal instead of the indicated finely chopped pecans, added in almond extract, used light vs. dark brown sugar, and threw in buckwheat honey as mentioned above. (And, yes, I reworded the recipe.)

The pudding comes from Luscious Creamy Desserts by Lori Longbotham. She suggests the addition of a tablespoon of Scotch whiskey to rile things up (her recipe is called "better-than-classic butterscotch pudding"). I put in half that amount just to see what might result. I thought the Scotch added an almost fruity aspect to the flavor and I was kind of on the fence about it, but my husband loved it.

In the pudding, I also used light brown sugar vs. dark brown and it was plenty sweet with the light brown. The pudding didn't firm up quite as much as I'd expected, but was similar in thickness to Greek yogurt. Just right, in any case, for dipping cookies. This pudding is very rich, and the recipe makes four modest individual servings. With a cookie on the side, this actually makes for a pretty filling dessert.

Butterscotch Pudding and Butterscotch Almond Cookies
(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

Butterscotch pudding
Yield: Four 6 oz. servings

Have ready four 6 oz. ramekins/bowls standing by.
Have a medium-size bowl, along with a fine mesh sieve, standing by; it will be needed immediately after cooking the pudding.

1 and 1/2 cups whole milk
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/4 cup unsalted butter (4 Tbsp. or 1/2 of one stick)
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
Yolks from 8 large eggs
1 pinch of kosher salt
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 and 1/2 tsp. Scotch whiskey (optional, of course!)

In a medium size bowl, whisk the cornstarch and milk until the cornstarch is well mixed in. Set aside.

Put the 8 egg yolks into their own medium size bowl with the pinch of salt nearby; set aside with a clean whisk.

In a large heavy-bottomed sauce pan over medium low heat, melt the butter.

Dump in the brown sugar and cook for about 2 to 3 minutes, until smooth and bubbly.

Whisking constantly, pour the milk-cornstarch mixture into the saucepan carefully, with the heat still on medium. Cook for about 2 minutes, continuing to whisk, until the liquid is hot and any sugar lumps are gone. Take the pan off the heat.

Add the salt into the bowl of egg yolks and whisk.

Into this, pour the heated mixture, whisking constantly (or you'll end up with scrambled eggs!).

Pour all of this back into the saucepan and put it back on the stove. Over medium-low heat, cook for 6 to 8 minutes, whisking continually all the while (isn't whisking fun?), until big bubbles show up on the surface.

Without delay (not even 20 seconds, people!), pour the entire mixture through the sieve you set up over the empty bowl. Into that, whisk the lemon juice, vanilla, and Scotch.

Let this cool for about 15 minutes, stirring periodically, then ladle it into your ramekins/bowls.

Cover each ramekin with a small piece of plastic wrap, pressing it right down onto the surface of the pudding to prevent a skin from forming. Cool further, until no longer hot, then refrigerate the puddings for at least three hours, until cold and set.

Butterscotch Almond Cookies
Yield: At least 24 good-sized cookies.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line one or two baking sheets with parchment paper.

2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup solid vegetable shortening
1 cup light brown sugar
2 Tbsp. buckwheat honey (or use 1/4 cup extra brown sugar instead)

1 large egg
2 Tbsp. nonfat dry milk
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. almond extract
1 and 3/4 cups all-purpose unbleached flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
Generous 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 cup almond meal (Sometimes also referred to as almond flour; you can make your own by grinding blanched almonds in your food processor. Just be careful not to overgrind them into paste. I buy almond meal at Trader Joe's, where it's not too expensive, but you can also find it at health food stores and, increasingly, in regular grocery stores in the baking aisle.)

In the large bowl of your mixer, blend together the butter and shortening just for several seconds. Add in the sugar, beating until creamy. Add into this the egg, non-fat dry milk, vanilla extract, almond extract, and honey. Beat until light and fluffy.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, kosher salt, and almond meal. Pour this into the mixer bowl and blend on medium low speed.

Chill the dough for an hour or more before portioning onto cookie sheets.

Scoop the dough using a 1 and 1/2 Tbsp. portion scoop (or, just eyeball it, of course), leaving a couple inches of space between each one. Dampen your palm and gently flatten the balls down slightly. Bake the cookies for about 7 to 9 minutes, until lightly golden brown.

Cool the cookies for a few minutes on the baking sheet then move to a rack. Store them in an airtight container.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Banana Cake-Bars with Dark Chocolate Chips (Still Lovin' that Spelt Flour!)

2011-08-09T20:26:00.000-04:00

Given that I've been cozying up to the delicate sweetness of spelt flour lately, I thought it was high time to post another recipe that makes use of it. (My maiden voyage with spelt can be found here, in case you're interested.) Though spelt flour is made from the whole grain, it bears only slight resemblance, in my opinion, to whole wheat flour in terms of flavor and texture. I think it may be the golden ticket for home bakers who aren't completely thrilled at the idea of sweets containing any whole grain flour, yet who want to begin incorporating healthier flours into at least a few of their baked goods. It works really well mixed in with unbleached white flour, and I figure that's the best jumping off point. Give it a whirl on a small scale before you fully commit.

Bite into one of these treats and, from the texture angle, you won't even be able to tell that they're not made entirely with white flour. In fact, these banana cake-bars are so cakey I really couldn't get away with calling them just banana bars. These guys are more like soft little cake slices. With fragile golden crumbs that tumble off here and there when you pick them up, they cry out for clean white napkins and big tumblers of ice cold milk. They'll do those ripe bananas proud.

About this recipe . . .

I adapted this from King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking: Delicious Recipes Using Nutritious Whole Grains. This was the first whole grain baking book I ever really liked. I've baked from it many times, and most of the results have been surprisingly good. I've noticed that many of the older whole-grain baking cookbooks out there, from past decades, often include formulas for almost concrete-like breads, cookies, and cakes. I'm relieved we're finally seeing a lighter approach in volumes like this one, and in Good to the Grain, which has a whole chapter devoted to baking with spelt.

The original recipe called for semi-sweet chips but, honestly, I think that would have made them too sweet. Plus, I'm a maniac for dark chocolate so I used that instead. I also substituted canola oil for butter, I drastically reduced the amount of cinnamon and nutmeg and, as noted above, I used a mixture of white and spelt flour instead of using spelt alone.

My kids really liked these, which I must admit kind of surprised me. Nathan (the now-15-year old), who is always my willing guinea pig whenever I bake something new, adored them. I thought the boys would become uninterested the second they heard the word spelt come from my mouth, but it didn't phase them. In my house, that's a meaningful seal of approval.

Banana Cake-Bars
with Dark Chocolate Chips (and Spelt Flour!)
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: Makes one 9" x 13" pan; 24 - 2" squares.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9" x 13" pan.
(Just fyi: I mixed this recipe entirely by hand. Gave my mixer the day off!)

3/4 cup canola oil
1 and 1/4 cups light or dark brown sugar, packed (I used light.)
3 medium size bananas, very ripe, well mashed
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3/4 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. coarse kosher salt
1 large pinch ground cinnamon
1 large pinch ground nutmeg
1 egg, large
1 cup spelt flour
3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
1 and 1/2 cups dark chocolate, small chips or chopped bar chocolate (I used a combo of both.)

Stir the oil and the sugar together well in a large bowl. Beat in the bananas, lemon juice, and vanilla extract. Add in the egg, stirring vigorously. Stop to scrape the bowl with a spatula now and then.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the flours, baking powder, salt, and spices. Add to the liquid mixture and blend thoroughly. Pour the batter into the greased pan. Let the batter rest for 15 minutes (this direction allows the flour to absorb some of the moisture a thicken a bit). Sprinkle your chocolate evenly over the top. Bake for about 35 to 40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out mostly clean. Cool the finished bars in their pan on a rack. They're best when allowed to rest overnight, in the pan, covered. (They stay fresh for at least two days and I actually thought the flavor had improved the second day.)

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Fresh Sweet Cherry & Nectarine Upside-Down Cake . . . with Honey Whipped Cream

2011-07-29T11:15:00.001-04:00

As a kid, the only upside-down cake I ever encountered was the classic pineapple ring and maraschino cherry model. I couldn't stand the stuff. As I recall, my dad adored it. He was the only one in the family who showed unfettered interest. Not even my mom, devoted dessert lover that she was, could bring herself to crave the canned-fruit laden cake. As a rule, it was atrociously sweet, sodden with that sugary syrup and just not an altogether great concept. She'd make it for him, of course, but the woman had her standards; given the choice, she would always have opted for a slice of something chocolate.

I guess it's no surprise, then, why I've never launched with abandon into the production of that sticky, inverted confection. Those pineapple cakes may be endearing in a retro sort of way, but not enough so to motivate me into actually baking one. No siree.

But this cherry and nectarine upside-down cake, on the other hand, while bearing some resemblance to that toothache-inspiring item of yesteryear, isn't as cloying. Made with thin slices of ripe nectarine, fresh sweet cherries, honey, plain yogurt, a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg, and a teeny tiny splash of peach schnapps thrown in to jazz things up, this baby's an improvement on that fusty old relic.

In fact, were the two cakes to pass on the street, I'd wager they'd acknowledge each other with a polite nod but, figuring they hadn't much in common, the pair wouldn't even stop to chat.

About this recipe . . .

Today's cake is adapted from a recipe in the gargantuan volume, Bon Appetit Desserts. It's a dream of a cookbook and, with 700+ pages, it's heavier than heck. Weighing in at 6.5 lbs., it's the size of a full-term newborn. They should sell it with a complementary stroller so readers can cart it around the house. Or, better yet, a forklift.

I customized the original recipe, which called for peaches along with a lot of spicy cardamom. What did I alter? In addition to using a combo of nectarines and cherries instead of peaches, I omitted the cardamom entirely, using just a little cinnamon and a scant pinch of nutmeg instead. I also added in a wee dab of peach schnapps, for a bit of zing, and I slightly increased the amount of salt (coarse kosher). Threw in the seeds of half a vanilla bean, and reduced the amount of granulated sugar in the cake by a small margin. In the honey whipped cream topping, I used less than half the amount of honey called for. (Have you ever mixed honey with heavy cream before? Fact is, you need a remarkably small amount to get the desired effect.)

With the adjustments, this cake is still sweet, but not ridiculously so. Some sweetness is just the nature of an upside-down cake. The flip-it-over-while-it's-still-really-hot concept wouldn't work without that gooey glaze permeating the top/bottom of the cake. In any case, if you want a concentrated sweetness infusion, an upside-down cake is definitely the ticket.

Fresh Sweet Cherry & Nectarine Upside-Down Cake
with Honey Whipped Cream

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: One 9" one-layer cake

6 Tbsp. (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature (divided use)
1/4 honey (I used clover honey.)
1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 and 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
Scant 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 pinch ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp. baking soda
Scant 1/2 tsp. coarse kosher salt
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 egg, large
2 tsp. peach schnapps (optional)
seeds of half a vanilla bean (or, 1 tsp of vanilla extract)
1/2 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
2 medium size nectarines, pitted and thinly sliced in crescents (about 1/4" thick)
Approximately 16 fresh sweet cherries, pitted

For the honey whipped cream:
(Note: The original recipe suggested adding a little plain yogurt into this mixture. I didn't try that, but thought I'd mention it in case you'd like to give it a whirl!)
1 cup heavy cream, very cold
2 tsp. honey (Or use up to 2 Tbsp. if you want really sweet whipped cream.)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and place rack in middle of oven. Liberally butter the bottom and sides of a 9" round cake pan. (After buttering, I took the extra step of lightly spraying the pan with vegetable oil spray; as far as I'm concerned, one can't be too careful where inverted cakes are concerned.)

In a medium size sauce pan, melt 2 Tbsp. of the unsalted butter. Add into that the brown sugar and the honey. Cook on medium high heat until the mixture begins to boil; stirring often, let boil for about 2 minutes or until the mixture begins to darken just a bit.

Remove the pan from the heat and immediately pour all of it into the buttered pan. Set the pan aside; the syrup will harden in the pan while you're preparing the rest of the cake.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, and kosher salt. In the bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on medium high speed, combine the remaining butter and the granulated sugar until it looks somewhat fluffy. Beat the egg into this on medium speed, along with the vanilla been seeds, and the peach schnapps.

Pour in half the flour mixture on medium speed just until well blended; blend in all of the yogurt. Add in the remaining flour on low speed, just until blended.

Arrange the nectarine slices (you may not need to use them all) in a spiral design around the edge of the cake pan, over the hardened syrup. Arrange the cherries similarly in the middle of the nectarine spiral. Using a spoon, gently dollop the soft batter over the fruit, being wary not to disrupt the design. Smooth the top of the batter carefully to completely cover all of the fruit.

Bake the cake in the preheated oven for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the cake is golden and the sides begin to pull away from the sides of the pan.

Let the finished cake cool for only 5 minutes after removing it from the oven. At that point, have your serving platter ready and place it snuggly over the top of the cake.

Quickly invert the hot cake pan onto the platter and delicately lift the hot pan off. If all goes well, you'll be faced with a lovely fruit design atop a glistening cake. Let the cake cool before slicing.

To make the honey whipped cream:

Whip the cream in your mixer on medium speed in a chilled bowl. Drizzle the honey in and whip until the cream forms soft peaks. Add more honey to taste, if you'd prefer the whipped cream to be sweeter. Keep refrigerated and serve over individual slices of the cake.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Chocolate Moosetracks Ice Cream with Mini Peanut Butter Cups . . . Heat Waves Have Their Benefits!

2011-07-16T20:57:00.000-04:00

I have to believe that humans had a harder time enduring summer before the advent of ice cream. I mean, come on, how did those cavemen get along on the steamiest days with all that excess hair, no air conditioning, and--worse yet--no ice cream whatsoever?? It must have been hellish.

Yes, the present era may be heavily laden with its own problems, but historically speaking, I figure we're pretty darn lucky. For one thing, we have easy access to moose tracks. And I'm not talking about the kind of tracks imprinted in mud by a four-legged creature. No, I refer only to the endearingly frosty, alluringly creamy variety. The kind you can scoop up, press down into a brittle sugar cone, or plop generously into a big shiny bowl. I speak, my friends, of that singular ice cream that's swirled with fudgy streaks and dotted with mini peanut-butter cups.

It's one of womankind's favorite treats (and probably mankind's too). It's moose tracks ice cream, and it's a flavor concept that was, by the way, born and bred right here in Michigan. I guess it was only a matter of time before I had to take a stab at producing a homemade version.

Too much heaven, you say? Oh please. This is me you're talking to. We both know there's no such thing.

About this recipe . .

Everything valuable I know about making ice cream at home I owe to pastry chef David Lebovitz. I've probably already told you in the past that I never made really spectacular ice cream until he wandered along and published what I now view as nothing short of a seminal volume, The Perfect Scoop.

Dear David, 

You've done civilization quite a service. 

Are you even remotely aware of that? Gosh, I hope so. 

Love, Jane.  

P.S. I seriously think a copy of The Perfect Scoop should be placed in a time capsule at the North Pole, post haste. Just in case.

I've lately been reading his memoir/cookbook, The Sweet Life in Paris, and in doing so have become ever more enamored of this down to earth, fun-loving pastry chef. He's got poetry in his soul, whimsy coming out of this ears, and by all accounts he's the kind of dedicated chef who tests and tests and retests again until he gets it right. What more can one ask?

Today's recipe is adapted from his formula for milk chocolate ice cream in The Perfect Scoop. I changed his base recipe very minimally, by deleting the 3/4 cup of cocoa nibs as well as the 2 tsp. of cognac. Instead, I used 2 tsp. of Kahlua (coffee flavored liqueur that goes fantastically well with chocolate), and I added a few swirls of homemade milk chocolate ganache into the just-churned ice cream before freezing it, along with a half cup or so of Trader Joe's mini PB chips (they're actually very good, not too sweet, and not waxy). And, of course, I reworded the Lebovitz recipe to reflect exactly what I did 'cuz, well, that's just what I do.

Thus, I present you with my version of chocolate moosetracks . . . or as I imagine David Lebovitz might casually blurt out, in a cute French accent, "Voila le moose tracks du chocolat!"

(Oh, and before I forget, many thanks to Denali brand ice cream, for coming up with their original moose tracks flavor to begin with. You are a credit to our great mitten-shaped state!)

Milk-Chocolate Moose Tracks Ice Cream
with Milk-Chocolate Ganache and Mini Peanut Butter Cups

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

8 oz. milk chocolate (with at least 30 percent cocoa solids), finely chopped (I used Trader Joe's brand milk chocolate; comes in a very big bar and has, I think, 33% cocoa solids. Not expensive, but nice flavor. It's a good bargain to use for everyday baking, etc.)

1 and 1/2 cups heavy cream
1 and 1/2 cups whole milk
3/4 cup granulated sugar (I use cane sugar when I make ice cream. Has better flavor, I feel, and they say it has fewer impurities than beet sugar.)
1 large pinch of salt (I used coarse kosher salt.)
4 large egg yolks
2 tsp. Kahlua (coffee flavored liqueur)
1/2 cup mini peanut butter cups (I used Trader Joe's brand for these, too. Yummy.)
1/2 cup milk-chocolate ganache, at room temperature (See separate recipe for ganache below.)

In a large metal bowl set atop a saucepan of simmering water, heat the chopped milk chocolate and the heavy cream. Stir gently, heating until the chocolate is completely melted. Remove the bowl from the saucepan, using care to get no water into the bowl. Set the bowl aside and place a clean mesh strainer close to it.

Set up an ice bath by placing ice cubes and cold water in a large shallow bowl. This will be used to cool down your egg-based ice cream mixture before it goes in the fridge. Have the ice bath ready and waiting before you start the next steps.

In a medium size saucepan, warm up the whole milk, sugar, and salt. While they're warming, in a medium size bowl, whisk the egg yolks. Pour the warm milk mixture slowly into the yolks, whisking constantly. Then quickly scrape this mixture back into the saucepan with a flexible spatula. Over medium heat, stir constantly, until it thickens and can coat the spatula or a wooden spoon. Be very careful not to over thicken this mixture. It should be very pourable; you don't want it to look like pudding at this point.

Pour the heated mixture quickly through the mesh sieve placed over the bowl of melted chocolate and cream. Urge it through with your spatula if needed. Stir to combine the two mixtures. Stir in the Kahlua.

Place the combined ice cream mixture, in its bowl, atop the waiting ice bath, being careful not to let water get into the ice cream mixture. Stir the mixture now and then to help it cool.

When it's at least room temperature, cover it with plastic wrap and refrigerate it for at least several hours or overnight.

Make the milk chocolate ganache at least an hour or more before you plan to churn the ice cream in your ice cream maker. The ganache needs to be no cooler than room temperature so you can swirl it quickly and easily into your just-churned ice cream.

To make the milk chocolate ganache, and to finish making your ice cream:

4 oz. milk chocolate, finely chopped (I used the same type of chocolate that I used for the ice cream mix.)
4 oz. heavy cream

Place the chopped chocolate in a small bowl. Heat the cream slowly in a small saucepan. When it's hot but not boiling, pour it over the chocolate. Let it sit undisturbed for a few minutes, then gently stir it until all of the chocolate has dissolved and the ganache is smooth and silky. Let the ganache cool uncovered until it reaches room temperature.

When you're ready to churn your ice cream, have on hand the ganache and the mini peanut butter cups. Churn the ice cream mix according to your ice cream maker's directions. As soon as it's done churning, quickly spoon in dabs of the ganache, swirling it in as you go, and sprinkling in the peanut butter cups as evenly as you can manage. Freeze your churned ice cream overnight so it can fully ripen. (I prefer to keep my churned ice cream in a couple of pint-sized sturdy glass containers that have tight lids because it seems to freeze more evenly and quickly than when I do it in metal or plastic.)

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Spelt Scones with Dried Tropical Fruit . . . Taking Spelt for a Spin!

2011-07-04T16:16:00.001-04:00

I wasn't sure just how I was going to feel about these scones, never having used spelt before, but I'm pleased to report that they exceeded all of my expectations. Strange word, spelt. What the heck is it anyway? Sounds like something you'd find piled on the ground in a greenhouse, doesn't it? "Just dump that load of spelt over there, right next to the cedar mulch."

The first thing one tends to hear about spelt flour, it seems to me, is that it's an ancient grain dating back to the 5th millennium BC and, secondly, that it's quite nutritious. Made from the whole grain, spelt flour is uniquely mild and subtly sweet. It works well in recipes mixed with some white flour, and it doesn't add nearly the same heaviness as typical whole-grain wheat flour.

Spelt's flavor doesn't come on strong. If regular whole wheat flour struts up to your taste buds like a muddy paratrooper, spelt flour saunters up slowly, like a waiter in a white jacket who doesn't want to interrupt the conversation.

I actually made two slightly different batches of scones using this recipe. First, the wedge-shaped scones that are pictured with chopped, dried, tropical fruits (kiwi, mango, papaya, and pineapple; I didn't end up liking the taste of the dried star-fruit, so I left that one out).

And then, pictured below, I made a softer dough (I added in a bit more cream) to make drop scones; for those I used only dried, sweet, Michigan (of course!) cherries. I brushed cream on the top of all the unbaked scones and sprinkled them with sanding sugar. Both varieties were very good. All of my males (that would be the hubby, the almost-15-year-old, and the 18-year-old) liked them a lot.

Like all scones--well, all the scones I've ever had the pleasure to meet--these are definitely best the first day, as they tend to dry out quickly. Second day, they benefit from being warmed before serving. Warmth revives them.

About this recipe . . .

From the 2010 book, Good to the Grain, by Kim Boyce, this recipe is one of many from that source I'd love to try. Cleverly organized by flour type, it recently won the James Beard Award in the baking and dessert book category. I changed the recipe slightly (it originally included only currants, and wasn't patted out and baked in wedges, among other things), and reworded it to reflect exactly what I did.

Spelt Scones with Dried Tropical Fruit (Kiwi, Mango, Papaya, and Pineapple)

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: 8 or more good-sized pieces, formed either as wedges (cut pie-style) or as drop scones

1 and 1/4 cups spelt flour (I used Bob's Red Mill brand.)
1 cup all-purpose flour, unbleached
2 Tbsp. granulated sugar (Doesn't sound like much, but the sugar on the dried fruit, along with the fruit itself, lends sweetness as well.)
1/2 tsp. coarse kosher salt

2 oz. cold unsalted butter (1/2 of one stick), cut into 1/2" chunks
1/2 cup (Or add a little more if you like!) mixture of chopped, dried, tropical fruits (I used chopped, dried kiwi, mango, papaya, and pineapple; or, try sweet dried cherries instead.)
1 and 1/2 cups heavy cream, plus a couple extra tablespoons for brushing on the unbaked scones

Preheat oven to 400 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, sift together the first four ingredients, putting back into the bowl anything that didn't sift through (like, perhaps, some of the kosher salt).

Toss the cold butter chunks into the bowl, and begin pinching the butter into the dry mix with your fingertips. Keep doing this until it's the texture of fine cornmeal (Or, if you're squeamish, do this with a hand-held pastry blender, or even an old-fashioned potato masher. I've done it all three ways for scones, and it always works!)

Pour in all of the dried fruit and stir it in evenly. Make a well in the center and, if you want your dough to be quite moist for drop scones pour in all of the cream.

If you want your dough to be slightly firmer in order to pat out a circle and make wedges, hold back 3 to 4 Tbsp. of the heavy cream.

Stir just until the dry mixture is more or less evenly moistened.

For drop scones, simply drop 8 large spoonfuls onto your parchment covered baking sheet, being sure to leave adequate space between each one. (No need to tidy up each "drop" but you certainly can if you wish. Might want to flour your fingers first.) For wedge scones, first dust a sheet of parchment lightly with flour. Plop the entire amount of thick, doughy batter onto the center of the parchment, and flour your hands well. Pat the dough into a circle about 10" in diameter.

Using a sharp pizza/pastry wheel (or a very sharp chef's knife) dipped first in flour, quickly cut the circle into 8 wedges, pie fashion.

Using a thin metal spatula if needed, gently lift each wedge and place it evenly on the parchment lined baking sheet.

Using a pastry brush, lightly brush heavy cream onto the tops of the scones and then sprinkle them with coarse/sanding sugar (granulated sugar will do fine as well, but the coarser sugars look more sparkly once baked).

Bake the scones at 400 degrees for approximately 20 minutes or so, until the scones are golden on top and bottom.

Let them cool a few minutes on a rack before diving in. (Excellent served warm with butter--you heard it from me.) Best eaten the day they're made.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Hey, There's a Reason they Cost that Much! . . . Learning to Make Artisan Chocolates

2011-06-30T21:34:00.001-04:00

Well, my Pastry II class is finally over, and I'm done with schoolwork until September. Boy, have I been craving the mellower pace of summer. To say I'm grateful for its arrival might just be the understatement of the year. I'm looking forward to pondering all that we did in class over the last eight weeks because we produced some of the most extraordinary and elaborate desserts I've ever seen. We also whipped up colorful French macarons, premium ice creams and sorbets, delicate candies, and sugar sculptures. At the half-way point in the semester, we assembled an impressive array of our creations and offered samples to all comers. From the whimsical to the ornate, they were dazzling desserts. It was something to see.

We made great stuff in that class, but I think the hours that we spent on chocolate may have been the most eye opening for me. In fact, one of the most fascinating aspects of culinary school overall has been the way that the veil of culinary secrecy has been pulled back. I'm talking about that invisible shroud that seems to shield us non-chef mortals from the knowledge of how particular food items are actually prepared. Specifically, the sorts of foods that most people would never even think to attempt at home.

Case in point, the creation of artisan chocolate candies. I'm talking about handmade chocolates of absolute premium quality; think of the shiny treats you see for sale in high-end chocolate shops, sold for upwards of forty or fifty dollars a pound at minimum. Having now been exposed to some of the methods, equipment, and materials used to produce such candies, I have a far more complete and sympathetic understanding of why they command such outrageous prices.

It's not just because they're made from the finest ingredients, are labor intensive to produce, and the tools required to make them are prohibitively expensive. No, it's also because making them requires a significant amount of skill and training, and pastry chefs who are devoted to learning and perfecting those techniques are not a dime a dozen. I think anyone can call himself a "chocolatier" but then, anyone can call himself a rocket scientist, too. Calling yourself that doesn't make it true.

Anyway, after the last few weeks' immersion in chocolate, I am content to forgo artisan candy production in my own little kitchen and leave it for now to the experts. In the meantime, I present to you my chocolate-filled chocolate "box" (which was 100% edible in every way and, of course, we did eat it!) that I made in class, along with the variety of chocolates--nicely packaged in that gold box--that we produced there as well. We were each allowed to take home one packaged box of our candy, along with our own custom-designed edible chocolate box, also filled to capacity.

Pastry class, after all, does have its benefits.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Strawberry Mascarpone Bars . . . and a Treasure from Far Away

2011-06-24T14:38:00.000-04:00

You know that saying about money burning a hole in your pocket? When you're dying to spend it because, well, it's there? That's how I felt about a particularly precious jar of strawberry-champagne jam that I received recently for review from the East India Company. I could hardly wait to try it. Yes, I'm referring essentially to that East India Company--the one chartered in England over 400 years ago by Queen Elizabeth I, made defunct through British nationalization in 1874, and miraculously reborn in quintessential 21st-century form in 2010.

To be perfectly honest, before being contacted by them via email I had no clue that the company was currently in existence in any form, or that the very idea of the East India Company still had anything but enduring historic value. In fact, I did a double-take when I saw their email message and thought to myself, "It can't be real . . . can it?" After all, I'm sure I first learned of the massive trading company in an elementary school history lesson.

I can vaguely recall reading in class about those legendary royalty-sponsored ocean voyages--the ones designed to expand international trade through the discovery of new and exotic spices, fabrics, timber, teas, cocoas, and thus enrich the sponsoring country. I can almost see the old textbook illustrations of foreign landscapes, with sailing ships charging through churning waves. (I'll bet merchant sailors had to have a lot of moxie in those days.) That's the kind of image that comes to my mind, in sumptuous color, when I even hear the words "East India."

Anyway, a few weeks after that email exchange, a snug little box appeared on my doorstep. Well-cushioned for its journey, this was clearly a treasure from far away. I unearthed the jar from its padding, admired the refined elegance of its label, and tucked it safely away until the right moment, as I didn't want to waste the precious stuff on a mediocre recipe. Finally, today, the moment was ripe.

After that long wait, it was with anxious anticipation that I twisted the cap off the jar. I held it up to the light, gave it a close look, and sniffed . . . mmmm, nice aroma. I inspected the texture of the jam . . . not too thick or remotely gelatinous. Both positive signs. The consistency reminded me quite a bit of homemade strawberry jam in that respect. Then I spooned out a dab and tasted . . . fine flavor, not too delicate nor at all harsh, and just the right amount of sweetness. So far so good. For a couple of seconds as I contemplated the flavor I thought, "That's lovely all in all . . . but what about the champagne?" And it was just then that the presence of champagne arrived on the back of my tongue. First a subtle tingle, and then that distinctive sparkle . . . "Ahhh, there's the champagne!"

I smiled.

Strawberries and bubbly, married in a jam. What a charming and quintessentially English combo. Thank you, East India Company, for sending me a jar of jam that lives up to your illustrious name.

About this recipe . . .

I adapted this from a recipe by chef Scott Peacock that appeared in the May 2011 print issue of Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Peacock's version is made with fresh raspberries and raspberry jam, along with cream cheese and goat cheese. My version differs in that I used fresh strawberries, the strawberry-champagne jam, mostly mascarpone cheese along with some cream cheese, and no goat cheese at all.

I also dramatically dialed down the lemony factor in the crust, upped the vanilla there (I have a kid who detests lemon in any form within baked goods, and I tend to take pity on him in this regard), and reworded the instructions to reflect exactly what I did. This is a moist and creamy cookie-bar, with a tender shortbread crust, that's open to interpretation. I think it would be interesting made with any bright summer fruit.

Strawberry Mascarpone Bars

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

1 cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, in 1" chunks
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
About 1 Tbsp. of softened butter, to brush onto sides of foil
3/4 cup high-quality strawberry jam
1 and 1/2 cups hulled ripe strawberries, chopped into small chunks
8 oz. mascarpone cheese, at cool room temperature
4 oz. cream cheese, at room temperature
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 Tbsp. unbleached all-purpose flour
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1 tsp. lemon zest
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1 and 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 or 3 tablespoons powdered sugar to dust on the baked, cooled bars

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Line a 9"x13" metal baking pan with a long sheet of foil, extending it up over the short ends of the pan.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, slightly soften the butter by blending on medium speed for just about 30 seconds. Into that, add the brown sugar and kosher salt, mixing on low speed for no more than 1 minute.

Turn the mixer off and pour in the 2 cups of flour, then beat on low speed just until it's incorporated. Raise the speed to medium and beat until a cohesive, even dough forms; the dough should not be crumbly. Break the dough into small clumps and press it down evenly into your foil-lined pan.

Bake this for about 20 minutes, or just until the dough starts to set and look slightly puffy. Remove from the oven, leaving the oven on, and cool this on a rack for 5 minutes while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

Brush the softened butter lightly onto the exposed sides of foil, above the crust, all around the pan. This will help the bars release from the foil when they're ready to be lifted out of the pan and sliced.

Evenly spread all of the jam over the cooled crust. Sprinkle the strawberry chunks atop that.

In the large bowl of your mixer, again with the paddle attachment, beat together the mascarpone cheese and cream cheese on medium/high speed for only about 30 seconds. Then add in the granulated sugar, still at the same speed, along with the 1 Tbsp. of flour, just until blended. Add in the egg, egg yolk, lemon zest, lemon juice, and vanilla extract. Beat the mixture until it looks smooth, stopping to scrape the bowl and beaters as needed.

Pour the creamy mixture evenly over the strawberry layer and tip the pan back and forth slightly to help distribute it evenly.

Bake the bars at 350 for about 30 minutes, until just set.

Cool on a rack for one hour, then cover the pan with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least two hours. When you're ready to cut the bars, firmly grasp the overhanging foil and lift up; if they stay flat and don't buckle then they're cold enough to cut. Peel the foil back from the sides once they're out of the pan, and slice them with a very sharp knife.

If you like, sprinkle powdered sugar on top of the bars before or after slicing, using a fine mesh sieve held at least a foot or more above the bars (helps avoid the appearance of big drifts of powdered sugar).

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

An Ending, a Beginning, and Blushing Peach Mini-Pies . . .

2011-06-08T16:55:00.000-04:00

It's the end of an era and the birth of a new one. That's how it feels around here since my oldest son, Charlie, graduated from high school a few days ago in a beautiful and moving commencement. I realized only that night, as the processional music began to play, that I had been half-consciously trying to avoid thinking of the graduation ceremony as a real watershed moment, but that's what it was. A watershed in the life of my child, to be sure, but also for our family as a whole and for me as a mom.

Let's just say it was a good thing I remembered the Kleenex.

I find myself immersed lately in a whirlwind of emotions about Charlie. Extraordinary love and affection, pride at his accomplishments, a mixture of apprehension and excitement about him leaving home for college next fall, and curiosity as to what his future may hold. It's all just amazing to me that we've come this far in the journey.

When your babies are born, you imagine all of the landmark events that will likely occur in their lives, but for a long time that's all you can do--imagine them. When one of the big events actually transpires, and you're there to witness it in a formal and celebratory setting, it's a strange and wondrous thing.

About this recipe . . .

So, what does all this maternal sentimentality have to do with blushing peach mini-pies? Not a darn thing. But I figure that's okay, because juicy little fruit pies don't need a special reason to justify their existence.

These were put together on a hot and steamy day. When I mixed the crust, I'd originally intended to make just one standard-size pie. The crust, what with the heat wave, wouldn't roll out all that cooperatively, so I went to plan B and formed these into casual mini-pies--much easier from the assembly standpoint on a blistering day. They look sort of free form and funky because I was trying to work swiftly and throw them in the oven without delay. I managed to get five minis out of the recipe.

Aptly named, blushing peach pie's moniker can be attributed to the girlishly pink, raspberry-based syrup that you mix with the sliced fruit. Made from fresh raspberries, sugar, and water, the syrup is cooked in a sauce pan, then strained. Combined with the peaches, this stuff's really good. Talk about something worth blushing over.

This recipe hails from The King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion, a solid and chunky classic that every home-baker needs to have around. I didn't change the ingredients or their proportions, but I completely reworded the directions to reflect what I actually did.

Blushing Peach Mini-Pies

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Ingredients for the pie crust:

2 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour or pastry flour (I used pastry flour, but I usually use regular flour for pie crust.)
1 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher salt.)
1 cup cold butter, shortening, or lard, or a combo of these (Does anyone out there still use lard? I've never had the guts to even buy it, but I've always heard it makes for a darn fine crust. I used half butter and half shortening here.)
2 to 4 oz. ice cold water, as needed (1/4 to 1/2 cup)

To make the pie crust dough:

Whisk the flour and salt in a large bowl. With a pastry blender, work in half of the fat until the mixture resembles large peas. Then, work in the rest of the fat until the particles are about the size of rice grains. Sprinkle in the ice water, a tablespoonful at a time, while tossing the dough with a fork. You want the dough to be just moist enough to hold together when pressed in your hand. Don't let it become so wet that it feels sticky. Be judicious with the water.

Press the dough into one big ball, cut it in half, press each half into a disk shape about an inch thick, and wrap the disks in plastic wrap. Chill them for at least one hour before attempting to roll them out.

Ingredients for the fruit filling:
6 cups of peeled, sliced, ripe peaches
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
1/4 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher.)
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
3/4 cup to 1 cup of granulated sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 cup raspberry syrup (See separate recipe for that below.)

While the dough is chilling, peel your peaches, and slice them into large bite-size chunks. Sprinkle them with a little lemon juice to help keep them from browning and set them aside. (If you prefer, you can blanch the peaches first and remove their skins that way, but it's not critical you do it that way. To blanch them, put the peaches into boiling water, boil for a minute or two; quickly remove them and plunge them into ice cold water to stop the cooking, then peel off the skins by hand. The skin should come off easily.)

In a small bowl, whisk together the salt, nutmeg, 3/4 cup of the sugar, and the 1/4 cup cornstarch. Set aside.

To make the raspberry syrup:

1 cup fresh raspberries
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup water

Stir together the raspberries, sugar, and water in a medium-size saucepan over medium-high heat. Cook for several minutes, stirring regularly, until the sugar is completely dissolved.

Remove from heat. To remove all the seeds, pour the syrup through a fine mesh sieve that's been placed over a heatproof bowl. Set aside and let the syrup cool somewhat.

To roll out the dough, mix the filling, and assemble the pie:

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Place a rack in the middle of the oven.

If you're making mini pies have all of your pans nearby. Remove one of the dough disks from the fridge, unwrap it, and let it sit for about five to ten minutes to soften it up slightly. On a lightly floured surface roll the dough out no thinner than about 1/8" thick. For five minis, cut out five small circles slightly larger than the diameter of your pans, and set the scrap dough aside. Working quickly, place the dough circles into the pie tins, being careful not to stretch the dough. Do the same with the second disk of chilled dough. Press all of the scraps into one ball and reroll that out. Using a sharp knife or a pizza wheel, cut the dough into little strips that will fit across the top of your mini pies.

Quickly add to the peaches the bowl of dry filling ingredients (salt, cornstarch, nutmeg, and 3/4 cup of granulated sugar). Stir well and taste the liquid; if it's not sweet enough add in the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar. Add approximately 1/2 cup of the raspberry syrup and stir into the fruit just to combine. Scoop the fruit mixture evenly into the pie shells.

Lay 4 to 6 of the little dough strips in criss-cross fashion over the top of each pie, crimping the edges as you wish (with your fingers or with the tines of a fork, etc.). Brush the strips of dough lightly with milk and sprinkle the crust with coarse/sanding sugar or granulated sugar. Place the pies onto a parchment covered baking sheet.

Bake for 15 minutes at 425 degrees, then check the mini pies; if they're browning too quickly, lightly cover them with foil. Lower the temperature to 375 at this point. Continue baking until the crust is golden brown and the filling looks hot and bubbly, perhaps 15 to 20 more minutes more even for minis. Cool the finished pies on a cooling rack. They can be served while still in their individual pans, or you can try to remove them from the pans when they're completely cool by flipping them over into your hand and quickly reinverting each one onto a plate.

(To comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Chocolate Cocoa Nib Cookies . . . (Cocoa Nibs: A Startling and Delightful Flavor Conundrum!)

2011-05-30T11:24:00.003-04:00

Maybe this is too personal, but I just have to ask . . . Are you into cocoa (aka cacao) nibs? Because I am. And I love 'em. What are they, exactly? They're fragments of shelled, winnowed, roasted cacao (pronounced kuh-KOW) beans, the precious beans that bring us chocolate. Okay, big deal, you say. So what makes them remarkable? Well, I'll tell you. Each tiny nib is its own special-delivery parcel of profound flavor. Bite down, and it's like a little grenade going off in your mouth--intensely bright and dark at the same time. Ka-boom!

The effect a modest sprinkling of nibs can have on an otherwise mundane recipe is startling. Stir a handful into cookie dough. Sprinkle them judiciously over waves of whipped-cream on a mocha cream pie. Swirl them into homemade ice cream before you put it into the freezer to ripen. Add them into that buttery almond brittle recipe you're so famous for. Do you see where I'm going with this? Limitless possibilities, fellow bakers!

They taste kind of like coffee, but not as bitter, with a complex and curious finish that evokes tropical fruit. Sometimes I can even picture a banana in there! No kidding. And, of course, they also taste like dark chocolate, but not overtly so. You'd think they'd be chocolate-chocolate-chocolate all the way through, but that's not always the case. They're a mysterious and delightful conundrum.

And as for texture? Nibs, while hard and crunchy, are apt to shatter between your teeth more readily than something like a roasted coffee bean or a toasted almond. If you're unfamiliar with them and a little gun shy, try this: Put a few nibs on your tongue--not too many--close your eyes, and concentrate. Pay attention when you bite into them. If the grenade analogy is too scary for you, think of it as a flavor-parade marching through your mouth. You can't ignore a parade, can you? Definitely not. Cocoa nibs are like that. Once they're in food, they won't be ignored.

Though they're scarce in regular markets, you can often find them in health/gourmet food stores, where they're sometimes sold in bulk and are not necessarily too pricey. Maybe you, too, should add them to your baking arsenal?

About this recipe . . .

Adapted from the luscious new cookbook, Milk & Cookies, by pastry chef Tina Casaceli of New York city's Milk & Cookies Bakery, these treats are easy to toss together and will more than satisfy your cocoa craving. I customized the book's "base chocolate dough" recipe by adding in a half cup of nibs, along with dark chocolate chips and semisweet chunks. I also increased the amount of salt, and used coarse kosher; the very subtle saltiness is a critical component of this cookie's character. And, as usual, I fiddled with the recipe's directions, reflecting exactly what I did.

I'd initially hoped for cookies that would be thicker and not quite so spread out, but their thin, chewy/crispy quality was actually rather appealing. (But the next time I make them, I think I might add in a few more tablespoons of flour and see if that helps reduce the spreading.) Even after a couple of days, the baked cookies didn't harden completely but remained chewy-crispy. Tuck one of these babies into a petite scoop of vanilla ice cream, and it makes a mighty satisfying dessert.

Chocolate Cocoa-Nib Cookies . . . with Chocolate Chips

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

2 and 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup Dutch processed cocoa powder (I used Penzey's brand. Really good.)
1 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher salt.)
1/2 cup cocoa nibs
1 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
1 and 1/2 cups dark chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli brand.)
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (Actually, I used Nestle semisweet chunks; they're about twice the size of regular chips.)

In a medium size bowl, gently whisk together the flour, baking soda, salt, cocoa powder, and cocoa nibs. Set aside.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the butter for about three minutes or just until light and creamy. Still on medium speed, gradually pour in the white and brown sugars; keep beating until the mixture again looks light and creamy.

In a small bowl, break up the egg yolks, and lightly mix the eggs together with the vanilla. Pour this into the mixer bowl in two parts, beating to incorporate the liquid. Scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl after each addition.

On low speed, slowly add in the flour mixture, and beat just to combine. Take the bowl off the mixer and briefly stir by hand, using a spatula or wooden spoon. Add in all of the chocolate chips, just to evenly combine.

Chill the dough for at least an hour if it's extremely soft.

Use a small scoop or tablespoon to portion the dough onto the parchment, and leave plenty of room between each cookie (a couple of inches) since they spread quite a bit. Bake the cookies for about 12 minutes. They are done when they seem slightly browned/dry around the edges but still slightly soft in the middle. Let them cool for a few minutes on the cookie sheet before removing them to a cooling rack.

The cookie dough can be successfully frozen for about a month, or kept in the fridge for about a week.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below.)

Sharing a Sugar Swan . . .

2011-05-25T21:36:00.001-04:00

Sometimes we try to do extraordinary or unusual things in my Pastry II class. Sometimes we succeed. Other times, not so much. Yesterday was one of the good days. We made these delicate swans and I just wanted to share mine with you guys.

The swan's body is made from blown sugar; the wings, feathers, flowers, and leaves from pulled sugar; and the base from poured sugar. Well, not sugar exactly, but a sugar substitute that pastry chefs use for this sort of thing called isomalt, which is derived from sugar alcohol. It's edible, of course, but not particularly intended for consumption.

The swan is no more than 7" tall and perhaps 6" long from front to back, and sits on a base of about 8" in diameter. Here's how it was made, in a nutshell: Its body is formed from a golf-ball sized glob of hot isomalt that you, first, mold with your hands into sort of a light-bulb shape (and, believe me, you're wearing plastic gloves--maybe even two pairs--the entire time you're working on this). Then, you attach the narrower end of that to the tube end of a small, primitive-looking, rubber hand pump, not unlike the pump used on a blood pressure cuff. You gently pump air into the sugar glob, which you're cradling in one hand, and, if you're very lucky, it expands cooperatively to about the size of a large lemon. Then, you pinch a bit of the hot sugar with your fingertips, from the non-tube end of the swan, and pull it upwards, curling it over to form the neck and head. At this point, you let the whole thing cool. Then you heat the tail end so you can remove the air tube (when that's done, you say a prayer of thanks that the whole thing hasn't shattered yet).

The wings are formed from small separate globs of hot sugar. To do this, you grab a bit of hot sugar, hold it tightly between thumb and forefinger, and then pull it out into the shape of a thin wing, and immediately use a pair of scissors to cut the feathering onto one side. The tail feathers were formed similarly, but without any scissor cuts. You heat just an edge of the wing and quickly attach it to the body.

The eyes were made by taking a very small, straight strand of colored sugar, letting it completely cool so it was like a tiny stick, and then reheating just the very end of it so it would melt into a drop. Then that melted tip was dabbed onto the swan's head on each side. The beak was made by pinching off bits of the same color sugar and pulling them into the appropriate shape, then gluing them on by quickly heating them on one edge.

The little flowers were made by pulling a ribbon of sugar and then quickly rolling and tucking it up, very simply. The leaves were formed much the same way the wings were. And the dark blue base that the swan is sitting on was made from extremely hot isomalt that was poured into a shallow, round, rubber mold and then left to cool.

Occasionally, I don't necessarily think all that much of what I've made at school on a given day, but then I get whatever it is home (assuming it's something we get to bring home, which doesn't happen all that often) and have a chance to look at it in a completely different setting. And, I think to myself, "Wow--that's actually pretty cool." That's kind of how I felt about this little swan. I honestly don't know if I could ever reproduce him at home, partly because I don't have any of the needed equipment, but even if I never make anything else like this in my life, I enjoyed working on this feathery fellow.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Passion Fruit Cream Cake . . .

2011-05-21T19:31:00.000-04:00

One of the most pungently tasty items I've learned to make in the last year or two, hands down, is fruit curd. Fruit curd is a rich substance, cooked on the stove with with egg yolks and butter, and can be used in much the same ways you'd use a really good jam. We make it now and then in pastry classes at school, and it's often a predictable citrus flavor--lemon, lime, or orange.

But last week, browsing through cookbooks at home, I found a recipe for a simple genoise layer cake that included a passion-fruit curd filling, with the curd being made from frozen passion fruit puree. Serendipitously, I happened to have a package of passion fruit pulp in my freezer, and it was getting antsy to be used. Frozen fruit pulp, which I've sung the praises of before, can be remarkably inexpensive. It's not to be confused with the shockingly costly, concentrated fruit purees that professional pastry chefs buy in quantity to have on hand in their enormous freezers. Those purees are of exceptional quality, no doubt about it, but they're another animal altogether. For those of us with no access to wholesale prices on those sorts of goods, we'd easily have to pay $15 to $20 for a 1-kilo container.Yeah, I know. Not bloody likely, right?

The type of fruit pulp that I'm talking about is often found in Hispanic food markets, but it can increasingly be found in mainstream grocery stores, gourmet markets, and even health food stores. Brace yourself for the price I paid for one package of this gorgeous, golden, passion fruit pulp: $2.05. That's right. Two bucks and minimal change. Unbelievable, isn't it? You've gotta get some. Granted, it's not high-brow, but it's still pretty darn good.

Besides loving the pulp itself, which comes in several flavors--some of them quite exotic to a Midwestern girl like me (eg., lulo, mamey, soursop)--I love the flat plastic bags in which this stuff is packaged. You can lay lots of these in your freezer and they'll take up almost no space at all. It's the best thing since sliced bread (or maybe I should say sliced fruit).

About this recipe . . .

I have to tell you at the outset that my favorite thing about this recipe was the curd and, given what I just said above, that's surely not a surprise. But, the fact is, I am not a huge fan of genoise in general. In terms of flavor, it's an eggy cake--one of the classic "foam" cakes similar to a basic sponge--that certainly has its place in the pastry pantheon, but I am not sure it complements this curd in the very best way. And I have always been hypersensitive to anything that's overtly eggy tasting. 'Course, that's just me.

Were I to make this particular cake again, I think I'd use only one layer of the genoise and split it in half horizontally, rather than using two thick layers, which seemed to be overkill. I might also consider brushing the layers with a simple sugar syrup to combat any latent egginess. But you, fellow bakers, should follow your heart. Perhaps you adore genoise? Then by all means use both full layers. In any event, I can strongly endorse this recipe for the passion fruit curd alone. And, who doesn't love whipped cream? We all love whipped cream, don't we? Of course we do. So use that, too.

This dessert hails from the pleasing little book, Luscious Creamy Desserts, by Lori Longbotham. The only change I made to this formula was to add some powdered sugar to the whipping cream, and to reword the instructions, reflecting exactly what I did.

Passion Fruit Cream Cake
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Ingredients for the fruit curd:
1/2 cup butter, unsalted
yolks from 5 large eggs
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup frozen passion fruit pulp/puree, thawed
1 pinch of salt
2 tsp. fresh lime juice

To make the curd:
Place a fine mesh strainer over a medium-size glass bowl. Set aside.
Melt the butter in a heavy, medium-sized, saucepan over a medium-low flame. Take the pan off the heat and, whisking constantly, pour in the sugar, fruit pulp/puree, yolks, and salt. Put the pan back on the stove over medium heat. Begin by whisking frequently, and cook for about 10 minutes, stirring constantly for the last few minutes as the mixture thickens. It should seem thicker than gravy but still be easily pourable.

Take the pan off the stove and immediately pour the curd into the strainer over the bowl, encouraging it through with a spoon or flexible spatula.

Whisk in the lime juice. Cool to room temperature. Cover the bowl securely with plastic wrap placed directly on the surface of the curd, to help prevent a skin from forming as it cools. Refrigerate the curd for about 2 hours, until completely chilled.

Ingredients for the cake layers:
1 and 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
6 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 unsalted butter, melted

To make the cake:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter the bottom and sides of two 8" round cake pans. Cut a parchment paper circle to fit onto the bottom of each pan.

Sift the flour three times onto a sheet of parchment or wax paper.

Beat the eggs and sugar in the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, for up to 10 minutes, until the volume has increased at least three times. The mixture should look thick, pale yellow, and bubbly.

Take the bowl off of the mixer. Sprinkle in half of the flour, folding it in with a hand-whisk just until combined; repeat with the rest of the flour.

Drizzle in the melted butter and whisk only until combined.

Divide the batter equally between the prepared cake pans.

Bake the layers for 20 to 25 minutes, until the cakes begin to pull away slightly from the sides of the pan. Cool the layers for 10 minutes before removing them from the pans. Peel off the parchment circles and let the layers cool completely before assembling the cake.

For the whipped cream filling:
1 cup whipping cream, very cold
1/2 sifted confectioners' sugar

Whip the cream until soft peaks form. Sprinkle in the confectioners' sugar and whip until stiffer peaks begin to form. Keep the whipped cream cold until you're ready to spread it on the cake.

To assemble the cake:
Place one cake layer on your serving plate. Spread about a cup of the curd evenly atop that.

Spread a thick layer of the sweetened whipped cream over that.

Sandwich the other cake layer on top. Using a fine mesh sieve, sprinkle another tablespoon or two of confectioners' sugar over the filled cake.

Keep the cake refrigerated if you won't be serving it right away.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

The Moral of the Story: Cool Your Bundt . . . (Triple Coconut Cake with Chocolate Glaze)

2011-05-14T11:14:00.000-04:00

I knew there'd be trouble when I read that line of the recipe instructions--the one suggesting that the cake could be turned out of the bundt pan within 2 minutes of taking it out of the oven. What? All of my past experience warned that, for me at least, doing such a thing would be delusional at best and suicidal at worst. Good sense hovered in the room like a ghostly specter in a cute apron, whispering, "Don't do it, Jane. You know it won't work. It's never worked before. Just put down the bundt pan and step away from the cooling rack."

But I ignored every molecule of my better judgment. It was crazy risky and destined to result in a mess. I tempted fate, and she slapped me back into reality. Needless to say, I decided to top this baby with a shiny chocolate glaze. Like the makeup we wear, it can't hide every imperfection, but it sure can help.

And even though its outer beauty was marred beyond repair, it was a fine tasting cake. Moist tender crumb and rich coconut flavor, all deftly enhanced by the dark chocolate. You should try it. But bring the sense you were born with into the kitchen with you when you do. Because clearly, I forgot to bring mine!

About this recipe . . .

Adapted from the little book, Kiss My Bundt, by Chrysta Wilson, this recipe is one I'd definitely like to use again. I altered the formula by using more coconut milk than called for and no regular milk, to enrich the batter and add more coconut flavor. I also decided to reduce the amount of vanilla extract called for, and I added in a small amount of finely shredded, sweetened coconut. Though the recipe also calls for coconut extract as well, I have never, ever seen 100% naturally flavored coconut extract for sale anywhere, so I used several drops of LorAnn brand coconut flavoring. It's a high quality substitute that does indeed impart great coconut flavor to baked goods (and it should not be confused with pure coconut oil, which will not work as a substitute for a flavoring in baked goods, as far as I am aware). I liked the dark chocolate glaze a lot. It sets up well on the cake, yet stays shiny and kind of soft. I also rewrote all of the directions to reflect exactly what I did.

Triple Coconut Cake with Dark Chocolate Glaze
(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare a 10-cup bundt pan by thoroughly greasing and flouring, making sure it's coated completely, or by spraying liberally with baking spray. (I used a light colored metal bundt pan, and I used baking spray.)

2 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 and 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt (I used kosher salt)
3/4 cup unsalted butter, slightly softened
1 and 3/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
3/4 tsp. coconut flavoring blend or "extract" (I used several drops of a concentrated coconut flavoring called LorAnn's; available in cake decorating supply stores or sometimes in craft stores like Michael's. Any good coconut flavoring should do.)
1 and 1/4 cups coconut milk (Available canned, often found in the grocery aisle with Asian food ingredients.)
2/3 cup finely shredded sweetened coconut (I pulsed it in my food processor a few times.)

In a medium size bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the butter for two minutes, or until completely soft. Pour the sugar in slowly, on medium low speed, and mix again for two more minutes.

One at a time add in the eggs, beating on medium speed after each addition until well blended. When all the eggs are in, beat for two more minutes, scraping bowl and beaters as needed.

In a separate small bowl, stir together fork the coconut milk and flavorings.

On medium-low speed, starting and ending with the flour mixture, alternately add in one third of the flour, then half of the coconut milk until it's all combined. Add in the shredded coconut until combined.

Fill your prepared bundt pan no more than 3/4 full. Bang the filled pan firmly on your work surface a couple of times to close up large air pockets.

Bake the cake for at least 40 minutes. Don't open the oven door at all until quite late in the baking cycle.

Be sure to cool the cake in the pan for at least 15 minutes or far more before you even attempt to remove it. (Some bundt cake recipes will even tell you to cool the cake entirely in the pan. Use your own judgment, but be careful. Don't make the mistake I did!)

Apply the glaze only after the cake has completely cooled. It will begin to set up quickly after being poured.

Dark Chocolate Glaze

3/4 cup unsalted butter
6 oz. premium dark chocolate (I used a combo of Scharffenberger and Ghirardelli), chopped into small pieces
2 Tbsp. light corn syrup

Melt the butter in a small sauce pan over low heat.

Remove the pan from the heat and add in all of the chocolate; let it melt in the pan, stirring gently as needed.

Add in the corn syrup and stir well with a whisk, until completely combined.

Let the glaze sit for a couple of minutes before spooning or pouring it over the cake.

Blueberry Banana Sorbet & Whimsical Tuiles . . .

2011-05-06T21:59:00.002-04:00

I am psyching up to begin another pastry class next week. This one, Pastry II, goes until the very end of June. So, besides readying my psyche, there are a number of other things I need to prepare in order to launch quickly from the house come 6:30 a.m. on Monday morning. The supplies alone can require a pack mule--notebook, binder, textbook, recipe packet, apron, neckerchief, chef's coat and pants, chef hat, digital scale, digital thermometer, and the rather awkward and weighty knife-filled case that is the unmistakable identifying mark of a culinary student in transit.

Yesterday, while sorting through my papers from last semester, I happened upon the recipe for tuile dough that I used as one small part of my "practical final" exam in my Plated Desserts I class this winter. I'd always intended to make tuiles at home and blog about them, and this seemed like a good time to finally do it.

In case you're not familiar with them, a basic tuile (pronounced tweel), which means "tile" in French, is a very thin, slightly sweet, rather bland cookie made from an exquisitely short list of ingredients--typically just butter, powdered sugar, egg whites, and flour, though additional ingredients like sliced almonds are not uncommon. A tuile's most unique characteristic is the fact that it can be shaped/curled/molded by hand while it's still very hot.

Tuiles are not really something that one can mass produce in a short period of time at home, but that's hardly a concern. They allow for so much customizing and creative interpretation, they're worth the trouble. And, best of all, they're actually a lot of fun. Do they require some planning? Kind of. If you want to make them into particular shapes, then yes, definitely, because you'll need templates. Rubber or plastic templates specifically made for tuiles can be purchased, but they're pretty costly. The templates I used are my own; I made them using thin, soft, non-toxic craft foam from Michael's craft store. I cut the designs out of the foam with an exacto knife.

The sky's the limit in terms of shapes if you're making the templates yourself. The foam sheets are very inexpensive so it's no big deal if you make a few mistakes. And, if you just want to make plain round tuiles, you won't necessarily need to use templates at all.

Tuiles make perfect serving vehicles for other dessert items. Ice cream, sherbet, sorbet, and mousse all love nestling close to tuiles. They provide the perfect crunch factor and their lack of assertive flavor works to their advantage. Case in point: What might go well with a wacky item like blueberry banana sorbet? A thick chocolate cookie? Yuck. An overwhelmingly lemony cookie? Ehh, not so much. A lovely, crunchy, sweet-but-subtle tuile? YES!

About these recipes . . .

I adapted this sorbet from pastry chef David Lebovitz's book The Perfect Scoop, including twice as much banana as the recipe called for, along with a bit more sugar and slightly more blueberries (yeah . . . I had to get rid of those speckled bananas languishing on the counter . . . again). It's a simple, casual treat, and it's even fat free. The flavor combo seems a little off the wall, but if it's good enough for David Lebovitz, well, enough said. You could make this and have it chilling in your freezer inside of half an hour if you're quick on your feet. It's easier than heck--no fussing required.

The tuile recipe is from Professional Baking, by Wayne Gisslen. That was the textbook used for my Pastry I class last autumn, my Retail Baking class a year ago, and even for my Plated Desserts I class that ended a couple of months ago. It's a pretty thorough volume. Another remarkably easy formula, it's practically impossible to screw up. And, you can make the dough ahead of time because it has to chill for at least an hour before you spread it.

Blueberry Banana Sorbet and Tuiles
(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

Yield: One quart of sorbet and at least two dozen average size tuiles

Equipment for sorbet:
-- food processor or blender

-- ice cream maker, or ice cream maker attachment for your mixer
-- 1 quart container in which to chill finished sorbet

Equipment for tuiles:
Food scale to measure tuile ingredients
1 or 2 Silpats (silicone pan liners) or parchment paper
1 or 2 very flat cookie sheets
1 small offset spatula
scissors
flexible tuile templates

Ingredients for sorbet:
2 and 1/2 cups frozen wild Maine blueberries (They're little, very blue, and sweet; I buy them in large bags from Costco. Of course, if you have good fresh berries on hand, don't hesitate!)
4 medium size very ripe bananas
1 and 1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup cold water
1 Tbsp. lemon juice

In a food processor or blender, pulse together all of the ingredients until the blueberries look almost pulverized and the mixture looks not-quite completely smooth.

Then process the mixture according to the instructions for your ice cream maker. (I used the ice cream maker attachment for my KitchenAid mixer, mixing on low speed for almost 20 minutes. Then, I put the sorbet into a container and froze it for several hours before serving. It doesn't freeze rock hard, and it scoops nicely.)

Ingredients for the tuiles:
2 and 1/2 oz. (5 and 1/3 Tbsp.) of unsweetened butter (An extra high-fat brand like Plugra is often recommended for tuiles.)
3 oz. cake flour or all purpose flour, sifted (one scant cup)
3 oz. powdered sugar, sifted (about 3/4 cup)
2 and 1/2 oz. egg whites (approximately, the whites of two or three large eggs)

In the bowl of a mixer, cream together the butter and powdered sugar; start on low speed, then increase to medium as the sugar mixes in. Add in the egg whites and flour alternately, mixing until combined. The dough should be kind of thick, sticky, and stretchy.

Scoop all of the dough into a disposable pastry bag with an un-cut tip (not critical to have a pastry bag, but helpful to do it this way!) and refrigerate it for one hour or more.

You'll trim the tip off the pastry bag right before you use the dough.

If you'd like to make decorative little designs in the tuiles after the dough has been spread on the templates, separate out a couple tablespoons of the dough before it's chilled and mix a teaspoon or two of cocoa powder into it.

Put this cocoa dough into a very small pastry bag, preferably one made of parchment paper (here's a site that shows how to make one of these; it's a foundation skill for cake decorators and pastry chefs!). It will need to have a tiny opening tip that you will trim with scissors right before you're ready to use the dough.

Once the dough has chilled sufficiently and you're getting ready to bake, preheat the oven to 325.

Take a perfectly flat cookie sheet without sides (or use the back of a cookie sheet with sides), and place your Silpat or parchment sheet over it. This process is stress free if done on a Silpat type of pan liner, just fyi. If you're using parchment, it should be cut to fit the cookie sheet without overlapping the sides.

Place your tuile template over the Silpat/parchment. Cut the tip off of the filled pastry bag, about an inch up from the point. Squeeze a plump line of dough onto each template shape you'll be using.

With the offset spatula, carefully spread the dough smoothly into each cut-out. You may need to hold the template sheet in place with one hand if you're doing this on parchment.

If you want to add decorative designs in the dough with the cocoa dough, do it now. Cut the tip of the parchment cone with the cocoa dough in it and create any designs you like, just squeezing a tiny line onto the plain dough.

When all the shapes you're using have been filled, gently lift the edge of the template and peel it off.

Bake the tuiles for approximately 6-7 minutes,just until they begin to get lightly golden. They bake quickly and burn easily; keep a close eye on them.

Using the offset spatula, carefully lift each piece, working with just one at a time, and mold it quickly with your hands or press it over a form (like a small, upside-down drinking glass) to make it into a bowl shape. It will be quite hot so use care. If a tuile cools into a shape you didn't intend, you can put it back in the oven to soften it and try again. The tuiles will start to harden within about 15 seconds, so you don't have any time to fool around once you start doing this. Store the finished tuiles away from moisture.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click the purple COMMENTS below!)

Vidalia Onion Tarts with Smoked Bacon . . . Relying on the Kindness of Onions

2011-04-29T11:18:00.001-04:00

"Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep." -- Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

This time of year, is there anything lovelier than a lustrous and golden Vidalia onion? The moist heft and smooth skin of the typical one-pounder naturally appeals to us. It's fresh and ripe in a way that most onions can only dream about. The way in which the Vidalias show up just once a year, have their coming-out party, and then, for the most part, quietly recede into the background endears us to them. They're similar to the New England cranberry crop in that respect--fragile in their brief longevity, and very distinctly American.

One could say that Vidalias didn't appear on the scene by design; they just happened. They were in fact a fluke, planted by a Depression-era Georgia farmer (Mr. Moses Coleman) who didn't get quite what he expected upon tasting his onion crop in 1931. Onions weren't supposed to be sweet! Who'd want a sweet onion? Indeed. Turned out everybody wanted a sweet onion. And they still do.

Personally, I tend to feel that Vidalias are the most cooperative member of the allium family (allium cepa vidalia, to be specific). They kindly refrain from burning my eyes when I slice them. Despite their rather forward juiciness, they shy away from causing discomfort. Most vegetables aren't that thoughtful. That fact alone sets the Vidalia apart from its less civilized and more barbaric cousins, as far as I'm concerned. How can you not love an onion that cares about your feelings? I mean, really.

Some folks even claim you can bite into one and munch it like an apple. Not sure I'm quite brave enough to try that just yet . . . but maybe one of these days I'll give it a go.

About this recipe . . .

One of my favorite pastry chefs, Nick Malgieri, has published at least two onion-tart recipes over the years that are very similar. This particular recipe, which he calls Swiss onion tart, is adapted from his book The Modern Baker; it is the less rich of the two I am familiar with (the other recipe, which calls for lard in the crust and higher quantities of eggs and cream, appears as Alsatian onion tart in an earlier book, A Baker's Tour).

Malgieri notes that he doesn't like to use onions that are sweet in this type of tart, but I have to disagree. I thought it was the perfect venue for beautiful sugary Vidalias. (This is blog is called Jane's Sweets, after all.) I reworded the instructions to reflect exactly what I did when I made these.

This satisfying little tart makes a nice main dish for a light lunch, alongside a spring-greens salad, and a thick wedge of melon. I can even see packing these tarts into a picnic basket.

Vidalia Onion Tart with Smoked Bacon
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: Eight individual small tarts, or one large 10" - 12" tart

Ingredients for the tart dough:
1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
1/2 tsp. salt (I used sea salt.)
1 tsp. baking powder
10 Tbsp. unsalted butter, very cold, cut into chunks
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk

To make the tart dough:
In the large bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade, combine the flour, salt, and baking soda. Add into that the butter chunks, and pulse about 20 times until finely mixed.

Add in the egg and the egg yolk; pulse just until the dough begins to form into a ball.

Dump the dough out onto a lightly floured surface, gather it together, and press it into a round disk about 1/2" in thickness.

Cover the disk with plastic wrap and refrigerate it for one hour before rolling out.

Ingredients for the filling:
6 or 7 strips of thick cut smoked bacon, cooked until crisp (Be sure to make enough to equal 1/2 cup when fully cooked, well drained, and diced. Leave a very small amount of the bacon fat in the pan you used to cook the bacon; you'll use the same pan to cook the onions.)
3 Tbsp. butter, unsalted
1 and 1/2 lbs. Vidalia onions, peeled, halved, and sliced 1/4" thick
Salt (I used sea salt.)
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
1/2 cup milk (I used 2 percent.)
1/2 heavy cream
Fresh ground black pepper
Fresh ground nutmeg (Don't use too much. Seriously.)
3 eggs, large

In the same pan that you used to make the bacon, melt the butter on medium heat. Add in all of the onions and generously salt them. When they begin to sizzle, lower the heat, and cover the pan. Cook for 20 minutes, stirring now and then; you want the onions to exude most of their water. Remove the lid, and continue to let the onions cook slowly for about 20 more minutes. They should be golden and quite reduced (aka caramelized!). When they're done, set them aside in the pan.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Remove the dough from the fridge and cut it, pie style, into as many pieces as you'll need (eight equal sections for eight small tart pans, etc.), shaping each piece into a small disk. On a floured surface, using a floured rolling pin, roll each piece of dough out one at a time into a circle a little larger than your tart pan. Gently press the rolled piece down into the pan (best to use tart pans with removable bottoms) without stretching the dough.

Run the rolling pin right over the top; it will cut off the overhanging dough to give each tart a clean edge. Do this for all of your tarts. Put the tart shells onto a baking sheet.

In a large mixing bowl, place the 1 Tbsp. flour. Pouring slowly, whisk in the milk first, and then the cream. Stir in all of the cooked onions, excluding any extra drippings from the pan. Add salt, pepper, and a scant pinch of nutmeg to taste. Whisk the eggs in a small bowl with a fork, then add them in as well. Stir well to completely combine.

Portion the filling into each tart shell evenly (I used a small ladle to do this), making sure to put some onions into each one. Sprinkle bacon over the top of each tart.

Bake the tarts, on the baking sheet, for approximately 30 minutes, or until golden all over.

Let the tarts cool slightly before removing them carefully from their pans. Leftover tarts reheat well in the oven or microwave and can be refrigerated for a couple of days without losing their gusto.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

Brie Cheesecake with Shortbread Crust and Strawberry Sauce . . . (Step aside, Chocolate Bunny.)

2011-04-21T21:28:00.001-04:00

Dear Chocolate Bunny,

Your appeal is undeniable. No question about it. You've shown up faithfully, year after year, in Easter baskets across the continent. Though your crinkly pastel foil is often askew, you'll always be a snappy dresser in our eyes. We love you, it's true. But, this year,  we're opting for the cheesecake with strawberries on top. 

Hey, you had a great run, but isn't it time to take a break? Maybe reassess your career goals? Think about it, won't you?

Fondly,

 Jane

P.S. The truth can hurt, I know. But I had to give it to you straight.

About this recipe . . .

Don't be thrown by the presence of the brie in this voluptuously rich cheesecake. It's a secret ingredient that pretty much stays hidden.

I was a bit concerned, while mixing the filling, that the brie's edgy bitterness might lend an odd aspect to the flavor of the baked cake, but that didn't happen. Which, I suppose, begs the question: Why even use the brie? Why not just use all cream cheese? After all, a wedge of high-quality brie costs a heck of a lot more than a brick of good cream cheese. So what's the point of the brie? Hmmm. Well, honestly, I'm not sure. The texture of this cake is beautiful, but is that necessarily because of the brie? I don't think so.

Would this dessert have been any less wunderbar had I used all cream cheese, instead of the called-for cream cheese and brie combo? Seems like further research is the only thing that might solve the mystery. Perhaps we'll do a double-blind study. Shall I apply for government funding?

Anyway, I found the recipe here, in a Wisconsin milk industry site. For the crust, I decided not to use their graham cracker version so I winged my own, using some homemade shortbread cookies I had in my freezer, and adding in the usual suspects (melted butter, sugar) along with a scant pinch of salt and an even tinier pinch of cinnamon. The fresh strawberry sauce is so simple, I just improvised that one, too.

Brie Cheesecake with Shortbread-Crumb Crust
and Fresh Strawberry Sauce

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Wrap the bottom and sides of a 10" spring-form pan in heavy duty foil. Have a large shallow roasting pan, or a 12" to 14"-round cake pan, on hand to use for the water bath.The use of a water bath helps prevent the top of the baked cheesecake from cracking. Have a tea kettle full of water on hand as well. You'll need to boil the water shortly before you put the cheesecake in the oven to bake.

For the crust:
1 and 1/4 cup finely ground shortbread cookie crumbs
1/3 cup almond meal (finely ground blanched almonds)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 scant pinch coarse kosher salt
1 tiny pinch ground cinnamon

For the filling:
16 oz (1 lb). cream cheese, softened to warm room temperature
10 oz brie; rind completely cut off, and cheese softened to warm room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar
Seeds scraped from 1 vanilla bean (I used a Madagascar bean.)
3 large eggs, room temperature (not at all cool)
3/4 cup heavy cream (not ice cold)

For the sauce:
1 pint ripe strawberries; hulled, cleaned, and quartered
1 pint ripe strawberries; hulled, cleaned, and halved
3 to 6 Tbsp granulated sugar
1/2 tsp fresh lemon juice

To make the crust:
In a medium size bowl, mix together all of the dry ingredients.

Add in the melted butter, and mix together using a fork until the crumbs are well coated.

Dump the crumbs into the spring-form pan. Press the crumbs evenly and firmly onto the bottom of the pan and an inch or so up the sides.

To make the filling:
In the large bowl of your mixer, on its lowest speed, mix together the brie, cream cheese, and sugar, and vanilla seeds. Mix until smooth.

Still on the lowest speed, mix in the eggs one at a time. Make sure each egg appears well incorporated before adding the next one. The batter should look quite smooth when you're done adding in the eggs.

Slowly add in the cream, mixing just until well combined, still on the lowest speed.

Pour the batter into the crust in the foil-wrapped pan.

Lift the pan off of your work surface by an inch or two and drop it one or twice, or hold onto it and bang it straight down. This helps allow air bubbles hiding within the batter to float up and be released before baking.

Don't forget, also, to start some water boiling on the stove shortly before you need to put the cake in the oven.

Place the foil-wrapped spring-form pan into the large roasting/cake pan. Place it onto the middle shelf of your preheated oven. Pour the boiling water into the roasting pan so it rises only about an inch or less up the side of the wrapped cheesecake pan. Be very careful not to let any water get on the cheesecake batter.

Bake the cake for 70 - 80 minutes, or until it's just a little jiggly. (I would not, personally, bake this until "golden" on top as the original recipe states.) Let the cake cool in a somewhat warm and draft-free spot, for about one hour.

Run a very thin metal spatula or knife all around the outer edge of the crust. Then let the cake cool another hour at normal room temperature. Refrigerate it in the pan, lightly covered, several hours or overnight before removing the sides of the pan and slicing.

To make the strawberry sauce:
In the bowl of your food processor, puree the strawberries until extremely smooth.

Place a fine mesh sieve over a medium size bowl and pour the puree into it, pushing it through the sieve with a spatula or spoon.

Mix in the sugar to taste (start with just a couple of tablespoons and add more as you prefer) and sprinkle in a few drops of lemon juice. Add in the quartered strawberry pieces and stir to combine. Let the sugar dissolve completely before using the sauce.

Serve on individual slices of the cheesecake. Be sure to keep the cheesecake, as well as the sauce, refrigerated.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click on the purple COMMENTS below!)

NYC: Finally, I Bit the Big Apple! . . . (Black Bottom Cupcakes)

2011-04-13T09:35:00.003-04:00

You know that concept of the bucket list? The list of things you feel you simply must do before you cash in your chips? Well, last week my list got slightly shorter. Finally, for the first time in my life, I visited New York City. Along with my husband and sons, we spent five days immersed in all it had to offer. Unequivocally, we had an extraordinary time. From the chaotic traffic, to the distinctive sounds and smells, to the beauty of the architecture and the diversity of the crowds, to all of the remarkable food, I must say I loved it.

What did we do? A better question might be what didn't we do. Of course, we had to visit the Statue of Liberty (and, as expected, she was glorious), just as we had to take in the view from the top of the Empire State Building, gawk at the neon spectacle of Times Square, and ponder the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center.

We strolled through Washington Square, paid our respects to Central Park, and swooned over the vibrant contents of MOMA's galleries. We managed to make two visits to the Strand Bookstore--that historic catacomb of towering shelves, snugly packed with volumes of every description. We walked and walked and walked. Then we walked some more.

One afternoon, a quiet excursion into St. Patrick's Cathedral offered respite from the churning street for a few minutes and we lit a candle there for my late father in law, Grandpa Joe. With my husband as our chief orienteer, we negotiated the subway, marveling at the freedom it allows (what heaven it must be to be unencumbered with the need for a car).

And, of course, we sampled NYC's culinary wonders. From a shared slice of the Stage Deli's classic, gargantuan, and profoundly dense cheesecake, to Magnolia Bakery's moist and homey cupcakes vs. Crumbs Bake Shop's hefty jumbos, to Francois Payard's delicate French macarons (his beautiful little bakery in Soho is pictured just below), to bialys from Kossar's, the delights just kept presenting themselves.

We sipped fizzy chocolate egg creams while sharing a delicious knish in Eisenberg's Sandwich Shop. We compared the fluffiness of a slice of Lindy's cheesecake to the creaminess of a slice from Junior's Restaurant (Junior's won, in my opinion). If I had a dime for every steaming hot dog my husband and sons bought from street vendors throughout the week I could buy my own cart and set up shop on the next corner. From stem to stern, Manhattan lived up to its reputation as a foodie's paradise. We had great dinners at a lively Cuban restaurant, an Italian hideaway, and an upscale burger joint (appropriately named 5 Napkin Burger) that literally produced the best hamburger I've ever tasted.

All in all, it was a rich introduction to a city that I hope to visit again and again. What did I adore the most? Well, the Brooklyn Bridge was a huge highlight and something I would have been quite sad to miss. Late on Friday afternoon, the four of us walked across the bridge on its wide wooden foot/bike path, high above the traffic. (I think it's a remarkable thing that there is neither a fee to cross this iconic bridge nor a lurid gift shop at its entrance to exploit the pocketbooks of the tourists who flock to it like medieval pilgrims.)

My kids gaped with astonished amusement as I recited to them Hart Crane's famous poem about the bridge as we strode along. I know few poems by heart, but that's one of them. The meaning of its lines can be clear as mud, but the poem reads like music nonetheless. Here's my favorite one of the eleven stanzas:

Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift
Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars,
Beading thy path--Condense eternity:
And we have seen night lifted in thine arms.

To me, that magical and shadowy image sums up not just the grace of the bridge, but the magnificence of this enormous city.

Clearly, I'm still processing the whole luscious adventure. And, having been absent from my kitchen for an entire week, I naturally felt the need to bake. Thus I present today's recipe from The Complete Magnolia Bakery Cookbook, by Allysa Torey and Jennifer Appel, which I came across in the Strand Bookstore and promptly purchased. Cookbooks often make the finest souvenirs, yes?

I needed to change this recipe just a smidgen, because I didn't have buttermilk on hand. In its place I used half a cup of plain Greek yogurt mixed with half a cup of 2 percent milk. Also, I decided to make 12 jumbo cupcakes vs. 18 regular size. And, I sprinkled a pinch of grated dark chocolate onto the top of each cupcake before they went in the oven. (Don't panic when your cupcakes sink in the middle as they begin to cool off. That's supposed to happen. It's part of their charm!)

Black Bottom Cupcakes
(For a printable version of this recipe click here!)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line cupcake pans with paper liners for either 12 jumbos or 18 regulars.

For the cream cheese filling:
3/4 lb. full-fat cream cheese, not softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg, room temperature
1/3 cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

For the cupcake batter:
1 and 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup Dutch process cocoa
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher salt.)
1/2 cup vegetable oil (I used canola oil.)
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup plain Greek yogurt mixed with 1/2 cup 2 percent milk (Or, use 1 cup buttermilk, as original recipe called for.)
2 tsp. vanilla extract

Garnish (optional):
3 Tbsp. finely grated dark chocolate

In a medium or large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the cream cheese and sugar until smooth. Add in the egg and vanilla, and beat well to blend. Stir in the mini chocolate chips. Transfer this mixture to a small bowl and set aside. Clean the paddle attachment and the mixer bowl.

In a medium size bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside. In the large bowl of your mixer, again using the paddle attachment, blend the oil and sugar on medium speed for a couple of minutes. In two parts, add in the dry ingredients alternately with the yogurt-milk and vanilla. Beat until well blended.

Using a portion scoop, if you have one, spoon the chocolate batter evenly into the paper-lined cups. Top evenly with the cream cheese filling. Sprinkle grated dark chocolate over each.

Bake for about 30 to 35 minutes, until a toothpick inserted comes out mostly clean. Use care not to over-bake them, or the edges will come out kind of dry (I think I over-baked mine by just a few minutes). Cool the cupcakes in the pans set on a rack for at least 15 minutes before removing them from the pan to finishing cooling on the rack.

Just like cheesecake, they taste best when they're not warm.

(If you'd like to comment on this post, or to read any existing comments, please click the purple COMMENTS below!)