Raspberry White-Chocolate Bread Pudding . . . and a Gift Certificate Giveaway from Blog2Print!

I have two good things to share today. One is a raspberry white-chocolate bread pudding, and the second is a very special giveaway. Imagine my delighted surprise last week when I opened an email from Blog-2-Print, inquiring if I'd have any interest in sponsoring the giveaway of a $35 gift certificate! It will come as no surprise to you that I responded in the affirmative. Yes! Yes!

Are you familiar with Blog-2-Print? If you have a blog yourself (or perhaps you have a friend who does?), you owe it to yourself to get familiar. Blog-2-Print is a service that allows you to make a bound book from a range of your blog's posts, in paperback or hardcover, via their incredibly easy-to-use website. The entire assembly process, from the blogger's standpoint, takes just a few minutes and it literally could not be more user-friendly. Anyone can give the blog-to-book assembly process a free trial run by visiting B2P's website. It's extremely fun to see what your blog would look like as a book, and to flip through it virtually, page by page, with no commitment at all.

Okay, so let's say you decide to actually make a book and place your order. Then what? Well, before you know it your shiny new volume is delivered to you, safe and sound. Expect your heart to skip a beat as you slide it out of the package, inhale that classic new-book aroma, and reverently page through your very own creation. I can tell you this with first-hand certainty because a couple of years ago I gave Blog2Print a whirl myself, using their service to compile a sleek volume covering three months' worth of my own blog's entries. I was especially pleased with the bright color and clarity of the photos, the quality of the paper, and the strong, tight binding. According to Julie, my friendly contact person at Blog2Print, a $35 gift certificate will allow for the production of a paperback book of about 77 pages or a 48 page hardcover. (I'm looking forward to making a new book, too, since Blog2Print generously offered to provide me, as well as our winner, with a $35 gift certificate--woo hoo! Thank you so very much, B2P!)

To enter this giveaway . . .

All you have to do to enter this giveaway is leave a comment on this post telling me why you'd like to make your blog into an actual book. And, please leave a name of some sort in your comment, okay? (Don't just call yourself "anonymous," because I know you're not really anonymous anyway--you're most definitely someone worth knowing.) Entrants can be from any country--there are no geographic restrictions, so I've been told by Blog2Print. I will announce the winner on Friday, May 4th, and ask that person to contact me via email. I will then provide that lucky individual with instructions so they can retrieve their $35 gift certificate from B2P. So simple . . . yes? Okay, then, we're good to go.

About this recipe . . .

This is an original, non-adapted recipe. I made it using day old Italian bread from a little local bakery, but if you prefer to use a homemade loaf, here's the link to my own favorite Italian bread recipe from a past post; if you use it to make your own bread for the bread pudding, just be sure to leave out the herbs and garlic, and consider substituting melted butter for the olive oil.

I suggest you indulge in a warm serving of this bread pudding topped with a soft dollop of whipped cream. As my dad always used to say, after eating something especially satisfying that my mom had served him, this humble dessert "really hits the spot."

Raspberry White-Chocolate Bread Pudding

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

Preheat oven to 350, and generously butter a small casserole dish (mine was about 9" x 9" and 2" deep; I recommend using a clear glass dish so you can easily tell if the bottom of the pudding is fully baked before removing it from the oven).

12 oz. frozen raspberries, or about two cups fresh
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 water

In a sauce pan, stir together the raspberries, sugar, and water. Cook over a medium flame until the mixture just comes to a gentle boil; lower the heat, stirring periodically, and let it simmer until it thickens and has reduced by about one third. It should look like raspberry jam that's not terribly thick when it's ready. Remove the pan from the heat and set it aside while you prepare the other ingredients.

6 to 7 large slices of day-old Italian bread, cut into large bite-size chunks (I left the crust on. If you prefer not to use the crust, you'll need a couple of more slices and you may want to consider reducing the amount of milk in the recipe a bit.)
1 cup half & half
2/3 cup milk

3 large eggs
1 and 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 pinch kosher salt

3/4 of grated/shredded white chocolate, or 1/2 cup of mini-white chocolate chips

In a large bowl, whisk together the half & half, milk, vanilla, eggs, sugar, and salt.

Spread half of the bread chunks in your buttered dish. Drizzle half of the milk mixture evenly over the bread, and then pour half of the raspberry sauce evenly over that. Sprinkle with half of the shredded white chocolate. Using the rest of the bread chunks, spread another layer on top. Drizzle with the remaining liquid, and pour the rest of the raspberry sauce over that. Sprinkle with the rest of the shredded white chocolate.

Cover the dish with plastic wrap and let it sit for about twenty minutes before baking; this will allow the bread to absorb some of the liquid. (If you want to delay baking your pudding, you can refrigerate it at this point and bake it within a few hours.)

Bake on the middle rack of your oven for about 35 to 40 minutes, until the top and bottom  look lightly golden and no longer obviously wet. Check it at about 25 minutes; if the pudding seems to be browning on the top too quickly, cover it loosely with foil.

While the baked pudding is cooling on a rack, whip some cream to serve along with it. The pudding is best served warm, not steaming hot. Be sure to refrigerate any leftovers.

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Retro Desserts, Part IV: Just Give the Man What He Wants -- Devil's Food Cake!

We celebrated my husband's birthday last weekend and, as you can plainly see, I made a very tall buttercream-frosted cake for the occasion. I wanted to make it just as he'd requested--a devil's food cake that would satisfy his childhood memories of what a birthday cake is supposed to be. Three layers high, with the classic, simple, American-style buttercream . . . rich, sweet, and completely chocolatey. No extraneous frills allowed. No foil-covered cake board or lacy doily. No fancy frosting decorations all over the place. Not even any lettering, and thus no "Happy Birthday Andy!!" written in icing on the top. I had to kind of twist his birthday-boy arm, in fact, for clearance to put even a few hastily piped dots around the messy bottom edge; they were legitimately needed to cover up the inevitable smudges.

Because of the clear requirement for a certain level of simplicity, I figured I should also forego the fussy niceties that frequently accompany the assembly of a layer cake like this. Niceties like what, you ask? Well, like piping on an icing "dam" around the outer edge of each layer before spreading the rest of the icing on each one; this is a very useful tactic, even if the whole cake is being frosted inside and out with a single type of icing, and I usually utilize it. But not for this cake, no sir. And, I opted out of the nicety of putting a "crumb coat" (a thin, initial icing layer intended primarily to seal in crumbs) on the cake before laying on the final icing layer. I never go without the crumb coat. Never. But this time I forced myself to just not do it.

"It's all one big frosting layer, baby, and you'd better like it!" That's what I was thinking as I plopped on glob after glob of buttercream icing, helter skelter, as if I had a plane to catch. My youngest son, Nathan, helped with the frosting too (perhaps he needed to catch the same plane?). Those are his hands in the photo below, holding that little offset spatula. (He's still a bit reticent at the prospect of appearing on camera. I guess his hands aren't shy, though, luckily.)

Once the cake was safely sealed within its hefty buttercream carapace, I rebelled just a smidgen by putting it on a cake pedestal with a ruffly edge. Looking at the cake from a few feet back, Nathan remarked that it resembled a bizarre top-hat of sorts. True, I responded, but a really good smelling top-hat.

As far as the recipe goes, I was pleased to finally have an opportunity to try out a book I've been reading lately called Sky High: Irresistible Triple-Layer Cakes, by Alisa Huntsman and Peter Wynne. This is the first cookbook I've ever encountered that focuses exclusively on cakes that are three layers. On the surface it may seem like an overly specific concept for a cookbook, and it is unique in the vast field of baking books that I've encountered. But I must say it's convenient, if not downright comforting, to have the exact proportions for a cake of that size already figured out for you. And, it's nice to know that the cake you're constructing was designed from the get-go to be sturdy enough to hold up without problems. Afterall, the last person you want to have to call in the middle of a baking crisis is a structural engineer. (Sadly, unlike our dear friends the plumbers and furnace repair guys, they're not on call to the general public 24 hours a day.)

Because I'd never used this recipe before, I changed nothing at all in terms of the ingredients, nor did I mess with the process for putting it together. Yeah, I know, it's shocking. ( "How the heck did she restrain herself?" you may be wondering . . . "maybe she had to take a tranquilizer first . . . ?") But seriously folks, I'm glad I didn't fiddle with it, since the finished cake's texture and depth of flavor were all I could have hoped for and more. Truly an exceptional devil's food that's highly likely to end up on my permanent list of reliable favorites. And not only that, there must be at least a dozen more recipes in this book that I already know I'd like to try. They all sound so interesting and look so good--lots of luscious photos, too, to back up the author's claims. It's worth shelling out a few bucks for this book, bakers. (And you know I don't make a purchase recommendation lightly.)

The recipe for the chocolate buttercream is, as I noted earlier, very American and traditional. That said, it's not one that I'd describe as stupefyingly sweet and it has no trace of the grittiness that sometimes afflicts this type of frosting. It's a soft, deeply chocolatey, easily spreadable buttercream, and the recipe is rock-solid reliable. It's from an older book that I think I've mentioned before, quaintly titled The Magical Art of Cake Decorating. I've made this icing several times in the past, and never had the slightest problem with it.

Alrighty then . . . now that I've talked your ear off . . .

Devil's Food Cake
(from the book Sky High, by Alicia Huntsman & Peter Wynne; I've reworded the instructions only very slightly, with no significant changes from the original)

For a printable version of this recipe, click here!

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter the bottoms and sides of three 8"round cake pans. Line the bottoms of each pan with a parchment paper or wax paper circle, then butter the paper.

1 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder (Do not use Dutch processed cocoa. Apparently, it's the action of the regular cocoa powder with the baking soda that gives the cake its trademark reddish-brown tint!)
1 and 1/4 cups hot water
3 cups light brown sugar, packed
2 and 2/3 cups cake flour
1 and 1/2 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. salt
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 eggs (I used large)
1 and 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
3/4 cup cold water

Place the cocoa powder in a medium bowl. Pour in the hot water and whisk until smooth. Set aside to let the mixture cool to room temperature.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, combine the brown sugar, flour, baking soda, and salt on low speed. Add in the butter and the dissolved cocoa, beating briefly to blend. Raise speed to medium and beat until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes.

In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs, cold water, and vanilla until blended. Add this liquid to the batter in three additions, scraping down the sides of the bowl well and mixing only to incorporate between additions. Divide the batter equally among the three prepared cake pans.

Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out almost clean. Cool the cakes in their pans, on racks, for 15 minutes. Invert the cakes from the pans onto the racks, and carefully remove the paper circles. Let the cakes finish cooling completely before frosting or storing.

Classic Chocolate Buttercream Frosting

(from the book The Magical Art of Cake Decorating, by Carole Collier)

Readers, please note: You will probably want to double this recipe, in order to have enough to generously frost a three-layer cake. The proportions listed here, though, are adequate for a two-layer cake. And if you have extra leftover icing, you can always refrigerate or freeze it. It keeps very well in the freezer, for months, in my experience.

Prepare classic vanilla buttercream first, before adding in chocolate components, as follows:

3/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup white vegetable shortening
1/2 cup milk (I used 2 percent)
1/4 tsp. salt
1 and 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 pounds confectioner's sugar, sifted (If you use Domino brand "10x" and you don't plan to use the frosting in a piping bag, you can probably easily get away with no sifting! Yay! Seems like every baker I know hates sifting powdered sugar.)

Place the butter, shortening, milk, salt, and vanilla, along with one pound of the sugar, in a large mixer bowl. Beat at low speed until combined, then gradually add in the other pound of sugar. Stop the mixer and scrape the sides and bottom of the bowl. Continue beating, now on high speed, for 8 to 10 minutes, until the frosting is very light and fluffy.

To make it into chocolate buttercream:

For each pound of confectioner's sugar you used in preparing the plain buttercream, allow 2/3 cup of sifted, unsweetened cocoa (I used a mixture of natural cocoa and Dutch process for depth of color and richness of flavor, but either works fine; be sure to sift whatever cocoa you use), 3 Tbsp. softened unsalted butter, and 1/8 tsp. salt. Add these ingredients right into the plain buttercream and beat until thoroughly distributed. To achieve the consistency you prefer, you can mix in milk, just one teaspoon at a time.

* * * * * *
Enjoy!

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Retro Desserts, Part III: Double-Stuffed with Nostalgia . . . Will the Real Faux-Oreo Please Stand Up?

"Oreos?"

I'll say it again, in case you missed it . . . "Oreos?"

Spoken as a question, that one little word murmured just about anywhere in the U.S. almost always engenders an immediate affirmative response. You don't have to elaborate. You'd probably never have to actually say, "Hi . . . um . . . would you like to have a Nabisco brand Oreo sandwich cookie? It's made with two crunchy chocolate wafers that are filled with sweet white stuff. It's really good." Such details are rarely, if ever, required. Most commonly, in response to the one-word offer, one hears something akin to, "Oh, are you kidding, I LOVE Oreos!"

And love them we do. The shy Oreo, petite though it is, carries on its tiny shoulders a heap-load of responsibility. Afterall, it is one of those distinctly American foods that tend to evoke our most idealized vision of America in the 20th Century, right up there with hot dogs and apple pie. The Oreo connotes brown-bag lunches packed lovingly by our moms, picnic baskets hauled to the beach, cookie jars, and the more positive aspects of a typical suburban childhood.

As an icon, I'd say it even tops the warm-hearted personage of Betty Crocker (sorry Betty). Though it's surely one of the shiniest and most lucrative golden eggs in Nabisco's mighty basket, we're not scared off by the specter of its parental corporate-giant. No, we don't care about that aspect in the least. Oreos have been a part of our culture for decades and, clearly, we'd be mighty upset if they went the way of the dinosaur. Lucky for us, that just ain't gonna happen.

As for today's recipe, it's my stab at a homemade version. I read through quite a number of faux-Oreo recipes before I settled on trying this one. It hails from a website called Nosheteria.com (for full recipe attribution info see the very bottom of this post under, "Recipe Full Disclosure!"). The cookies are yummy, though they will certainly never be confused with the original. That's okay, though. I had fun making them this afternoon, and I just had even more fun watching my younger son chow one of them down. I asked him if he thought they matched up to the real thing at all. He pondered the query thoughtfully for a moment and, mouth stuffed with cookie, remarked seriously, "Well . . . sort of. They're good anyway." And that's good enough for me.

Faux Oreos

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

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

For the chocolate wafers:

1 and 1/4 cups All Purpose flour (I used bleached)
1/2 cup Dutch process cocoa (I used Penzey's brand)
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 and 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
1 large egg

For the cream filling:

1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened
1/4 cup vegetable shortening
2 cups confectioners' sugar (I didn't bother to sift it, as the recipe indicated, but it was just fine; if you're going to be squirting the cream filling out of a piping bag--not something I did--you'd need to sift this sugar)
1 and 1/4 tsp. vanilla extract (the recipe called for 2 tsp. but I really think that'd be overkill)

In a medium-sized mixer bowl, with paddle attachment, mix the flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and sugar on low speed to combine. Add in the butter on low speed, and then the egg. Mix until the dough comes together.

Scoop rounded teaspoonfuls of the dough onto parchment lined cookie sheets, spacing them about 2" apart. (I used a portion scoop that held slightly over one tsp. and it worked out fine. I tried chilling and then rolling out this dough, but it's really way too sticky for that. Scooping is the way to go.) Flatten the balls of dough with the dampened palm of your hand, or use something flat like a metal spatula that's been very lightly greased, or dusted with cocoa, or dampened with water to prevent the dough from sticking.

Bake the cookies about 7 minutes and then check on them, baking longer if it seems necessary. They shouldn't look wet or feel mushy. Try not to overbake them or they'll be not only pretty hard but also taste kind of burned. They're pretty thin, so they bake quickly. Keep an eye on them. Cool them on the cookie sheets until they can be moved without breaking.

To make the cream filling:

In a medium mixing bowl, with paddle attachment, at low speed, mix the butter and shortening until well combined. Gradually beat in the confectioners' sugar and the vanilla. Beat on high for a minute or so, until the filling looks fluffy.

To assemble the cookies:

When the cookies are completely cooled, use a small spoon or scoop to put about a teaspoon of cream filling onto the least attractive side of one wafer. Cover it with another wafer, exposing the nicest side up, and press down gently so the cream is pushed to the edges of the cookie.

And voila, you have faux oreos! Now get a cold glass of milk, or a cup of coffee, and treat yourself to one. Oh, and don't forget to mark your calendar for 2012, because little Mr. Oreo's gonna have one heck of a 100th birthday party!


Recipe full disclosure! Within the site Nosheteria. com, this recipe is credited to a cookbook called Retro Desserts by Wayne Harley Brachman. I changed the recipe very slightly, and rewrote the instructions my way!

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Retro Desserts, Part II: Dark-Chocolate Bread Pudding . . . with Whipped Cream

Chocolate bread pudding wasn't really on my agenda this week, one might say it just happened. And what a happening it was.

Of course, for typical American-style bread pudding you need typical American bread, and, typically, that means white. In my household we're not regular consumers of prefab, sliced, white bread at all--I can't even remember the last time I bought it. But, in my efforts to gain some skill in baking yeast bread, I figured I'd better learn to walk with the easy, fluffy, white stuff before I try to run with the chewy, nutty, brown breads. So a few days ago, using a new recipe, I made a batch of of white sandwich-bread dough, and the loaves it yielded were . . . well . . . they were lovely.

And speaking of "retro" . . .

As I pulled the pans one by one from the oven, I gazed at the loaves and thought to myself, ". . . my gosh, they're too perfect . . . they look like they're right out of one of those old 'Dick and Jane' books." (Yeah, right, the one titled "Dick and Jane Convince Their Mother, Who is Always Neatly Coiffed and Clothed in a Freshly Ironed Dress and Moderately High Heels, to Bake Her Own Bread" -- haa! I don't think that one's been written yet.) Needless to say, I was pleased with them. Coupled with the French baguettes I managed not to destroy last weekend, I've chalked up two yeasty successes in one week--previously unheard of for me. I'm on a roll.

Anyway, I made three sandwich loaves, all in pans of differing sizes. They were warm, golden, and charmingly rounded on top. Just like the three bears--big, medium, and small--they were darn cute. And let's face it, I'm so grateful when yeast cooperates with me that I could just about weep whenever things actually turn out the way they're supposed to. It's kind of pathetic, I know.

But enough about the bread, get to the pudding already!

My kids aren't big on white bread and that, of course, is a very good thing nutritionally, but they loved this stuff, especially slathered with peanut butter and jam. Thus the two smaller loaves went quickly, and just slightly less than half of the large loaf was still available yesterday when I happened to be sitting at the kitchen table sorting through some old handwritten recipe cards. As I pondered the dog-eared card for chocolate bread pudding, I realized I had just enough homemade bread left to give it a whirl, and I had all the other ingredients on hand as well. Nothing to stop me.

It seems to me (and perhaps you've noticed too?) that bread pudding recipes often indicate you should remove the crust from the bread before you cut it into cubes. I've always figured, though, if the bread itself is of really nice quality, and the crust isn't too chewy, stale, or tough, why not leave the crust on? I mean, let's be reasonable. So, in my instructions below I don't recommend removing the crust unless you feel compelled to do so, perhaps by forces beyond your control.

Now, bread pudding, as you know, isn't the type of dessert that will ever win a beauty contest. It's majesty lies not in its looks and form, but in its texture and taste. A dollop of softly whipped cream atop a little bowl of chocolate bread pudding enhances its visual appeal considerably, of course, but also adds immeasurably to its ambrosial yum factor. So be sure to have some cream for whipping on hand when you make your pudding . . . you won't regret it.

(And as for this recipe's attribution, well, all I know is that my late mom said she got it "from a newspaper" a few dozen years ago. That's not much to go on, but in this case it'll have to do. That's retro enough for me!)

This fantastic stuff can be eaten warm, room temp, even cold--you name it--it's that good.


Dark-Chocolate Bread Pudding

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

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Butter a 2-quart shallow baking/casserole dish.

4 cups whole milk (I didn't have any whole on hand so I used 2 cups of 2-percent and 2 cups heavy cream instead)
1/4 c. unsalted butter (I think it'd be fine with less butter, especially if you're using any cream)
4 oz. dark, bittersweet chocolate
4 oz. semisweet chocolate
2 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. salt
3 cups soft fresh white bread cubes, about 1" square (with or without crust as you prefer)

In a medium saucepan, combine the milk/cream, the butter, and all of the chocolate. Heat the mixture over medium heat, just until it comes to a boil, stirring frequently.


In a large bowl, whisk the eggs with the sugar, cinnamon, salt, and vanilla extract.


Add the bread cubes to the egg mixture and stir to completely coat all the bread cubes well.


Pour the hot milk and chocolate mixture over the bread cubes in the large bowl. Gently stir to mix, without breaking up the bread cubes.

Pour it all carefully into your buttered dish.

Bake until pudding is just "set" and still wobbly in the center but not wet looking, usually 45 minutes at least. Try not to overbake. (I baked mine on top of a cookie sheet to catch any spills.)

Cool on a wire rack. Serve warm or cold, plain or with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. Makes at least six servings.

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Retro Desserts, Part I : The American Dream of Banana Cream

Banana cream pie is not what you might call a fashionable dessert. It contains no exotic ingredients, requires knowledge of no arcane methodologies for its preparation, and--God knows-- it's not low in either fat or calories. And yet, despite all of those factors, a hefty percentage of casual American restaurants still offer it on their menus. Why? Besides its obvious creamy lusciousness, there must be something more behind its perennial appeal. Personally, I think it's due to a pervasive nostalgic yearning. Let's call it Go to the Diner for a Piece of Pie Syndrome. Enjoying a nice slice of a traditional cream pie, especially if we're under the impression it's been made from scratch, satisfies a deeply rooted need of ours to believe that the Soul of Americana still thrives, despite fierce odds. Afterall, if little restaurants from coast to coast are still crankin' out the cream pies, then I guess everything can't be all bad, can it?

Banana cream pie even looks comfortingly retro, don't you think? There's all that soft, fluffy, whipped cream on the top. That's all, just whipped cream. No fancy spun-sugar garnishes. No bittersweet curls carved from chunks of pricey European chocolate. And I could be wrong, but as far as I know, there is no dessert wine that exists solely in order to be paired with it. Banana cream pie is humble. It doesn't discriminate. I'd wager it will never be the focus of a full-blown Food Network Challenge, but that's okay because you see . . . it doesn't care. Banana cream pie didn't seek fame; fame sought the banana cream pie.

And so begins a series of periodic posts I plan to do on retro desserts. That is, desserts that don't even come close to fitting into the ultra-modern mold but that still persist within the American psyche. What kind of stuff am I talking about? Well, maybe things like classic devil's food cake with chocolate frosting, Boston cream pie, chocolate bread pudding, cherries jubilee on vanilla ice cream, and so on. Maybe even baked Alaska, if that's not pushing the anachronistic envelope too much. Do you have any ideas or suggestions? Because I could really use some. I'd like to have a good-sized list to choose from. Let me know if you think of anything, okay? Seriously. :)

So now for today's recipes. There are actually two--one for the pastry cream, and one for the crust, which I made out of the crumbs of homemade cookies. The pastry cream recipe is from the King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion cookbook, and it's a very good one. I wouldn't hesitate to use it again. The cookie recipe, which I've included below directly after the pie recipe, is from the book Cookie Craft by Peterson and Fryer. It's the recipe I typically use if I am making the type of cookies that will be elaborately decorated. These cookies, ground into crumbs, are perfect for pie crust because they're not very sweet (thus I hesitate to call them sugar cookies, though that is in fact what they're called), they're very firm (these babies are built to be tough), and they have very little moisture.

If I do say so myself, my pie turned out to be extremely delicious. One might say it was a stark raving success, and that's the best kind of success to have in the kitchen.


Banana Cream Pie with Cookie-Crumb Crust

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

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Have ready a 9" pie plate.

1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. unbleached flour
1 Tbsp. plus 1 tsp. cornstarch
1/2 tsp. salt
2 large eggs
2 cups whole milk (I didn't have whole so I used 1 cup 2-percent milk and 1 cup heavy cream)
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract or almond extract (I used vanilla)

3 medium-sized bananas, cut into pieces that are sliced on an angle (the recipe said 2 medium but I found that wasn't enough)

Enough cookies to yield 2 cups of crumbs
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar

To make the crust:

Place several cookies, broken into small pieces, into bowl of food processor. Pulse repeatedly until they're the proper consistency (not too finely; you don't want them to be like paste!).


In a medium bowl, place the cookie crumbs, confectioner's sugar and mix together.


Add in the melted butter and mix well with a fork until all the crumbs are a bit moistened.


Pour the buttery crumbs into your pie plate. Press them down evenly in the pan, and up the sides.

Bake the crust for approximately 10 to 12 minutes. Check the crust early to make it's not getting brown. You just want it to be golden. Set aside the baked crust to cool.


To make the pastry cream:
In a medium bowl, whisk the sugar, flour, cornstarch, salt, and eggs.


In a medium-size saucepan, over medium heat, bring the milk/cream to a boil.


Add the hot milk/cream to the egg mixture slowly, whisking constantly to ensure smoothness. Pour the liquid back into the saucepan and return it to the stove; bring it back to a boil. Stir continually with the whisk (if you don't, you'll get undesirable lumps!).



The pastry cream will thicken quickly. When you see it start to boil in the center, immediately remove it from the heat.


Add in the butter and vanilla and stir until smooth. Set aside.


To assemble the pie:

Place the sliced banana pieces in the pie shell in concentric circles, more or less.

Spoon or pour the warm pastry cream over the bananas and smooth out the top.


Cover the top with plastic wrap; the wrap should touch the pastry cream to help prevent a skin from forming.


Refrigerate the pie for at least a couple of hours before serving. If you like, top it with sweetened or unsweetened whipped cream.


Recipe for Sugar Cookies (to use as crumbs for pie-crust)

3 cups All Purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg 2 tsp. vanilla extract

Whisk together flour and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside. Using mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, using the paddle attachment. Add the vanilla. On low speed, add in the flour mixture gradually, mixing until the two are thoroughly blended.

Chill the dough. Roll sections of dough out to about 1/4 inch thickness (or thinner if you prefer; adjust baking time accordingly if thinner). Bake on parchment covered cookie sheets, on middle oven rack, at 350 degrees for about 12 minutes--not until golden brown all over. They should just be light golden on the bottom. Cool on sheet for a few minutes, then remove from sheets to finish cooling on racks.


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

Recipe full disclosure! Besides any changes mentioned in the post above, the only other change I made to the recipes was to reword the instructions for clarity.