tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312744662024-03-13T15:20:24.372-07:00The Modern Apron: Menus, Methods and MusingsThe recipes are original. I make no such claim about the thoughts.TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.comBlogger220125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-18702241743054915742012-07-15T10:07:00.004-07:002012-07-15T10:26:11.658-07:00Luncheon Dishes: Sausage and Shallot Tart<div>When it comes to cooking, I am notorious for making things hard on myself. I always sail into a situation with the best of intentions, and end up overcomplicating things to the point that I’m stressed out and panicky. I’ve been struggling with this for years, and it’s true that if I consider a full retrospective of my culinary progress, I’ve come a long way, I still feel like I have quite a ways to go. </div><div> </div><div><br />The hard part for me— in fact, for both me and my usual partner in entertaining crimes—is editing. Not so much in an individual dish, but in the overall composition of an event. We think of this or that to make, and every single thing sounds great, so we make it all. We wind up over budget, with too many servings of each dish and too many options.<br /><br />What makes this interesting is that one of my first jobs was in catering sales. I talked with clients about their events, understood what their culinary needs were, and came up with menu options and pricing for them. Part of my role was to help them stay within their budget, which was often accomplished by finding lower priced alternatives, or by reworking a menu to exclude certain items.<br /></div><div><br />So it should come as no surprise that when my third grader’s teacher announced that they would be having “heritage day” during the last week of school, and that each child would be responsible for bringing a dish that represented their ancestry in some way, I immediately made the jump to hypercomplication. </div><div> </div><div><br />I gave my son the choices for his ancestry: German, Dutch, French, Welsh, English, Irish, and Polish. He immediately picked French. Naturally this is where the complication comes in. Last names, of course, can signify many things—a trade or profession (Miller), a relationship (Johnson), a characteristic (Small), or a region or town or origin (DiCaprio), among other<br />things. Our name falls into this last category.<br /></div><div><br />For reasons that I cannot articulate, I decided that thedish had to be authentic to the region that my husband’s family was actually from. Or at least, the ingredients did. Why did I make this decision? Would twenty three 9-year-olds call bullshit if I served them something from Provence or Alsace or Burgundy? Would they even know where the town that our last name comes from was in France? Was I just crazy?<br /></div><div><br />Of course the answers to those questions are: I have no idea, no, no, and probably. I suppose I should have been grateful he didn’t pick Polish, since I’ve never tried to make pierogi, and I’m sure it would have been a disaster. As it was, I was grasping at straws to figure out what to make. So I turned to the modern day Oracle at Delphi: Google. I looked at some of the menus of restaurants in the region and found something that sounded both interesting and palatable to 9 year olds. A sausage and shallot tart.<br /></div><div><br />Because I was dealing with children, I minced the shallots pretty finely, a preparation I modified when I made it for a broader audience. The rest of the dish, however, is exactly the way I presented it to the kids. My son declared it to be tasty, although not the best thing I’d ever made. I excuse this faint praise, because unless we’re talking about brownies, Toll House cookies or chicken pot pie, his enthusiasm for my cooking is best described as “restrained.” Not that he doesn’t like it, but if it’s not one of his favorites, it’s generally dismissed as “good” or “fine.”<br /><br /></div><div>This tart consists of a savory short crust base, with a slightly custardy filling topped with sautéed shallots and sausage. I made it initially with sweet Italian sausage, and then again with hot, because the store was out of sweet, and decided I like it better with the sweet. The heat of the hot sausage was just too fighty with the rest of the flavors for me. But it’s entirely a matter of preference, and if you like hot sausage better than sweet, it will still be good. </div><div> </div><div><br />The shallots are cooked in the residual fat from the sausages, to give them a flavor kick as well. To add a little authenticity to the dish, I used fromage blanc as the dairy component of the filling, with an egg and an additional yolk. Although I’ve made no secret of my feelings for quiche and nything that closely resembles it, I was pleasantly surprised by the result of this tart, and the way the bottom crust stayed crisp, even with the cheese/egg filling.</div><div><br />You should be able to get fromage blanc in a decently stocked grocery store. My grocery store keeps it with “specialty” cheeses. It has a consistency rather like sour cream, but I can’t speak to substitutes. Online sources offer both quark and Greek yogurt as ideas, and those may work, but I didn’t try them, so I can’t say if they’ll hold up to the oven’s heat.<br /><br /></div><div>I made this in a rectangular tart pan because it was necessary for me to cut it into 30 2-bite portions, but it could just as easily be made in a round pan. The cooking time for the blind baking would be the same, but it might need a little longer in the oven the second time around to set the filling in the middle.<br /><br /></div><div>So the story has a happy ending—the tart turned out, the kids liked it reasonably well, it was pretty easy to make. I don’t think my overcomplication complex is cured, but I’ve identified another symptom. In the past I’ve recognized the “too many servings” and the “too many options” symptoms as primary. Now I see that I need to add, “excessive need for authenticity” in certain situations to my list. I guess I can categorize this discovery as, “life is a journey, not a destination.” But next time I swear I’m just making French bread and calling it a day.</div><div><br /></div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5765446797157117634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsn0vg4jN3C2qoqiG_Lql-HugdRILIgVb6-xnGoS6fMEFrBQxxZ4wPZ7qxVuoS-EWNp0qAzz0wANqw-XeIY0ubbiYCQ2uKSFQoRGQjw6kJO6PKi23n54hhrGUQE0R08HziI42C6Q/s320/sausage+and+shallot+tart.JPG" /><br /><strong>Sausage and Shallot Tart<br /></strong><em>Serves 6-8</em><br /><br />For the crust:<br />2 cups all-purpose flour<br />½ teaspoon salt<br />16 tablespoons cold butter (two 4 ounce sticks),<br />cut into small cubes<br />3-5 tablespoons ice water<br /><br />For the filling:<br />¾ pound of Italian sausage, casings removed<br />1 teaspoon olive oil<br />2 medium shallots, sliced into thin rings<br />½ cup white wine<br />¾ cup fromage blanc<br />1 large egg + 1 large egg yolk<br />2 teaspoons Dijon mustard<br />Salt + freshly ground pepper<br /><br />Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 12” x 4” rectangular tart pan with a removable bottom.<br /><br />To make the crust:<br />In the work bowl of a food processor, combine flour and salt. Pulse 2-3 times to combine. Add cubed butter and pulse 10-12 times, until butter is in small bits. It will look something like almond meal. With the motor running, add the water, a tablespoon at a time, through the feed tube. The mixture should be damp but not sticky. Check the consistency by stopping and squeezing the dough together. It should clump and form a mass, but not stick to your fingers like a paste. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board, and work it gently into a cohesive mass. Pat it into a rectangle, and roll it out to a large rectangle, approximately 14” x 6” and about 1/8” thick.<br /><br />To move the dough into the tart pan, roll it up on the rolling pin (rather the way a roller shade rolls up), and move the rolling pin over the pan. Starting at one end, unroll the pastry. You should start unrolling over the counter an inch or two before the edge of the pan. This will give you enough dough at that end to pat down into the pan and up the side.<br /><br />Gently work the dough into the crease of the pan and up the sides, trying not to stretch it (stretched dough shrinks. There will be some shrinkage, but you want to minimize it). The biggest problem with rectangular pans is that the corners punch through. If that happens, just patch the hole with some of the excess dough. <br /><br />Once you have the pan well lined, remove the excess overhanging dough by rolling your rolling pin over the top. The sharp edges of the pan will cut the dough, and you can just pull the excess away.<br /><br />Line the dough with a piece of aluminum foil, and fill it with beans, pie weights, or uncooked rice. Bake for 12-15 minutes. Remove the foil and the weights. The dough will have a partially cooked appearance. Parts of it will be translucent, parts will be opaque. Return the pan to the oven for an additional 10-12 minutes, or until the crust is just starting to turn golden. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely before filling.<br /><br />For the filling:<br />Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the sausage, breaking it up into small pieces with the side of a spoon as it cooks. Cook the sausage through, 10-15 minutes. Remove the sausage from the pan to a bowl, leaving as much of the residual fat in the pan as possible.<br /><br />Add the shallots to the fat in the pan, and sauté until just starting to brown, about 10 minutes. Add the wine, and scrape up the bits in the bottom of the pan. Allow the wine to cook down until almost completely evaporated. Scrape the shallots into another bowl and allow to cool slightly.<br /><br />In a bowl, combine the fromage blanc, egg, egg yolk and Dijon mustard. Add a pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Turn sausage out onto a cutting board and chop it a little more finely. Do the same with the shallots (this makes them easier to eat, as they’re not in long strands). When the crust is cool, pour the egg mixture over the bottom of the crust and spread evenly. Scatter the shallots over the egg mixture, and the sausage over the shallots.<br /><br />Return the tart to the oven and bake 20-25 minutes. Remove from the oven, allow to set up for 10 minutes, then serve warm or at room temperature.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-61540013800545828802012-04-16T14:08:00.006-07:002012-04-16T14:26:44.876-07:00Desserts: Flourless Chocolate CakeWell the last of the Candy Holidays is behind us until the fall. Just as people think of Thanksgiving as the start to the winter holiday season, so I consider Halloween as the start of the Candy Holiday season. And the Candy Holiday season is a lot longer than the winter holiday season.<br /><br />I’m as big a fan of chocolate as the next person, but I also have four small children (and an almost non-existent personal will power). Starting with Trick or Treating, there seems to be some event for which the stores are stocking their “seasonal” shelves with various-shaped Peeps for between six and seven months (depending on the timing of Easter). Candy corn of various shades—yellow/orange,red/green or pastel colors (really?)—calls to me with its corn syrupy siren song. And don’t even get me started on Cadbury Crème Eggs.<br /><br />The Candy Holidays kick off with Halloween. Once they’ve cleared out the last of the orange-wrapped miniature candy bars, they truck in Hershey’s kisses in silver, red, and green foil. From there it’s but a moment before the heart shaped Whitman’s samplers are displayed. On February 15th, it’s Reese’s Eggs (another notable weakness of mine) and chocolate bunnies. When I bought a package of Cadbury Mini Eggs in February, and confessed to the checker that I just couldn’t resist them, even though Easter was weeks away, she told me that, in fact, they’d received all the Cadbury stuff in DECEMBER, I suppose in the hopes that they’d dedicate some floor space to it during the Christmas holidays.<br /><br />I’m just grateful it hasn’t occurred to Brach’s to make patriotic candy corn yet.<br /><br />So this year, Easter brunch was at my house. After a morning of eating pastel M&Ms and Kit Kats wrapped in cheery pink and blue, I wanted something more sophisticated for the grownups. I teetered between a pound cake served with…something (I never actually got very far down the pound cake path), or a chocolate cake of some description. I decided on a flourless chocolate cake because I’d been working on this recipe and it seemed like a good time to break it out. This cake is not a little bit of work, but it’s a departure from the usual traits you find in a flourless chocolate cake, which to me makes the work it requires worthwhile. At least it’s effort expended for something a bit different.<br /><br />This is not a flourless chocolate cake for people who like the thick, dense, fudgy product that normally represents the genre. This is a flourless chocolate cake for people who want something a little more cake-like (although, let’s face it, it’s still exceptionally rich from the chocolate). This also has a lovely crusty top provided courtesy of the brown sugar.<br /><br />It’s also a flourless chocolate cake for people who can’t eat almonds. Often flourless chocolate cake recipes substitute almond meal to provide some of the structure that would normally come from the flour. While my family has no food allergies, plenty do, and nuts are one of the usual suspects.<br /><br />In fact, it’s rather like a cross between “true” flourless chocolate cake (by which I mean the kind with almond meal), and a brownie. Whatever you call it, the recipe calls for a fair bit of whipping. In fact, you may think I’m exaggerating when you read how much whipping there is. Or that I’m kidding.<br /><br />You start by beating a lot of air into the eggs, and then folding in whipped cream. The eggs will expand hugely in volume. They’ll then deflate somewhat when you add the chocolate, and you’ll reintroduce some volume in the form of the whipped cream. All of this sort of evens out, and you wind up with a cake that bakes down but doesn’t slump as much as the almond flour variety. As a matter of fact, my husband said he <em>didn’t</em> care for it precisely because it <em>isn’t</em> the usual fudgy, squidgy product that we usually think of when we think of a flourless chocolate cake. So you might want to prepare your audience before you serve it to them.<br /><br />I presented it with vanilla ice cream and homemade caramel sauce. You could also serve it with whipped cream or crème fraiche, if that’s more your speed. If you like fruit and chocolate (I don’t) you could serve it with strawberries or with a strawberry sauce. However you serve it, it’s a fitting end to the Candy Holiday season.<br /><br />A note about the picture: the ice cream may make it appear that the cake is quite thick—possibly as much as 2 inches. However, the scoop I used for the ice cream was one of those smaller ones that holds about a rounded tablespoon. So the ice cream scoops themselves are only about 2” high. The cake is probably just over an inch thick. I don’t want anyone to look at the picture and think that the ice cream scoops are “normal” ones, because perspective would then dictate that the cake was quite a bit thicker than it really is.<br /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732109641201605346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJmfkuZlRdnclCUEMLVWa8Iqj8FhbbBC-mw-gEFeo7i5KzHEFtnjIBdeHz2pyPhClwt8CYyhRh-TsUqVQRt1sjgeHfB1Z9EjyfVH5_eoF4VPyn7qNbB7PUchtWlTf4CwSB__55CA/s320/flourless+chocolate+cake.JPG" /><br /><br /><strong>Flourless Chocolate Cake</strong><br /><em>Makes 8 – 10 servings</em><br /><br />1 cup light brown sugar<br />6 eggs<br />14 oz chocolate, melted (I use a mix of bittersweet and semi-sweet—about 9 oz of bittersweet, the rest semi)<br />½ cup cocoa powder<br />4 tablespoons Frangelico, divided<br />1 teaspoon salt<br />1 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />1 ¼ cup heavy cream<br />3 tablespoons powdered sugar<br /><br />Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray a 9” or 10” round springform pan with nonstick spray.<br /><br />In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine eggs and brown sugar. Add salt, vanilla, and Frangelico. Beat 10 minutes or until eggs are 4-5x greater in volume than they were. They’ll deflate a bit later on—that’s OK.<br /><br />Place all chocolate in a bowl and microwave until melted. Best to melt it in 1 minute increments, checking between each. Once it softens, reduce to 30 second increments. In my microwave this takes 2 ½ minutes total, but power varies by microwave. Stir in the cocoa. Allow to cool slightly. You want it to still be pourable, but not so hot it will cook the eggs when you add it to the egg mixture.<br /><br />In a separate bowl, whip the cream (if you have a second work bowl for your stand mixer, lucky you. Otherwise I recommend using a hand mixer in another bowl). Once the cream thickens slightly, add the powdered sugar a tablespoon at a time, beating it in to avoid lumps. Once the powdered sugar is all added, beat in the Frangelico. Continue beating until the cream is thick. As the beaters go around, they will leave a path through the cream, and you’ll be able to see the bottom of the bowl. This will take probably 5 minutes.<br /><br />Remove the mixer bowl from the stand mixer, and scrape the melted chocolate into the egg mixture. This is where the egg mixture will deflate by about half. This is expected. Also, because the egg mixture is cooler than the chocolate will probably be, the chocolate will solidify a bit. Turn the mixer back on and let it run while you’re whipping the cream (if you’re using a hand mixer and separate bowl for the cream. Otherwise, turn the mixer on and let it run for a minute before swapping out the work bowls and cleaning the whip attachment so you can beat the cream). Use a spatula to scrape the bottom of the egg mixture bowl to get any chocolate that may be lurking there. Don’t worry if there seem to be some lumps of chocolate. Even if they don’t get incorporated during the folding that comes next, they’ll melt when it cooks.<br /><br />Once you have the chocolate well incorporated into the egg mixture, fold in the whipped cream carefully, trying to lose as little volume as possible. You won’t be able to get the two mixtures completely combined—just try to fold until there are no obvious white streaks. The mixture may appear somewhat mottled—lighter and darker chocolate streaks. This is fine. Scrape the mixture into the prepared springform pan.<br /><br />Bake at 350 for 1 hour and ten minutes, checking at 50 minutes. The cake will appear craggy and cracked. You want it quite well set.<br /><br />Allow the cake to cool completely. After about 15 minutes, you can run a knife around the edge and release the springform pan. The cake will sink in the middle during cooling. This is normal. Serve with the accompaniment(s) of your choice.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-28351727084154471312012-03-18T07:27:00.006-07:002012-03-19T11:09:23.446-07:00Side Dishes: Parmesan Fennel<div>Every August I feel guilty. Bloggers and food magazines are raving about and providing recipes for sweet corn and super ripe tomatoes. And while I like those things just fine, I don’t feel like I live for tomato season. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me as a food person. Really, I prefer fall, winter and early spring vegetables. Butternut squash, Brussels sprouts, leeks, celery root, fennel. Some people feel their heart go pitter-pat when they see the first ripe tomatoes in the market. I feel that same emotion when I see the first stalks of Brussels sprouts, like enormous lumpy unopened parasols, or the bunches of Swiss chard that look like (and are probably somehow botanically related to) a weed we used to pick when I was a kid—they were the same shape, but green all the way through, and we’d pick them on walks during preschool and hold them over our head as “umbrellas.”<br /><br /></div><div>I can’t really say why this is the case. Surely nothing is more versatile than the tomato, and nothing is easier to prepare than corn on the cob. But maybe that’s it—maybe I like the challenge of fall/winter vegetables. Their edible parts are so often hidden under tough rinds or strange skins (for which see: squash, butternut and root, celery). Some of them seem more like additions to things, rather than things themselves (Exhibit A: leeks). They insist that you be a bit creative with them. For this reason, I love vegetarian cookbooks. I probably have a dozen cookbooks with titles like, “Vegetables” and, “Vegetables from an Italian Garden” and, “Rose Elliot’s New Complete Vegetarian.” I am as devoted a carnivore as you’ll find, but I consider myself to be more of a meat-and-broccoli gal, than meat-and-potatoes gal (not that I don’t love the starches too—it makes me sad that there’s no such thing as a carbotarian, because I’d be such a good one. I guess I just love it all. *sigh*).<br /><br /></div><div>So I’m always trying to think of new ways to serve these sort of odd-man-out vegetables. Flip through your average cookbook, and about the only way cabbage is presented is in cole slaw. Broccoli or cauliflower might be roasted. Brussels sprouts (if they appear at all) are generally roasted or sautéed with bacon. All fine, but like anything they become less interesting with repetition. And I’m as guilty of that repetition as anyone. For a long time, the only way I cooked fennel was to quarter it and roast it with some olive oil, salt, and pepper. Delicious, but after awhile, dull.<br /><br /></div><div>So I thought to change it up a bit. I cut the fennel into strips about the size of a French fry, tossed it with olive oil and salt, and spread it out on baking sheets. I grated parmesan cheese over it, and roasted it at 450 degrees. The result was soft fennel with a crisp coating of cheese. There were a few strands that had roasted to an almost charred state, and all of it was beautifully brown. It required little effort beyond slicing and grating. The oven did all the work.<br /><br /></div><div>If you’ve never had fennel, or never had it cooked, this is a good introduction. The resemblance to French fries makes it approachable, and so far I haven’t found too many things that can’t be made palatable with some cheese. I highly recommend this as a side dish for steak or rack of lamb. If you’re one of those tomato-and-corn lovers, it may help to tide you over until the summer produce shows up. If you’re a winter vegetable lover like me, you may have found a new favorite.<br /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721245288536745602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7BU707naX2GQzNWu7TjwECETWbOzEcES4s1vnzkjWa6_oIyF1kb4oAqu-06c-92XY7eKrgwKPdthWxSHbHbi8NKBXLpd6citirw11YrB3O1JdnK_UMvP0htafhLe09iJoRReFDQ/s320/parmesan+fennel.jpg" /></div><div> </div><div><strong>Parmesan Fennel<br /></strong><em>Serves 4</em><br /><br /></div><div>Two large fennel bulbs<br />2 tablespoons olive oil<br />Kosher salt<br />About ½ cup grated parmesan cheese<br /><br />Preheat oven to 450 degrees.<br /><br />Trim fronds and stalks from fennel. Using a vegetable peeler, shave off any browned spots. Ideally you want to choose unblemished bulbs, but sometimes you have to pick the best you can get. If there’s lots of discoloration, pick really large bulbs that you can peel a layer off and still have a reasonable amount left.<br /><br /></div><div>Cut the bulb in quarters and cut out the solid core in the middle. Cut the quarters into strips about ¼” thick, about the thickness of the average fast food French fry. Don’t worry if the slices fall apart—some will stay together, but some won’t. Toss the strips and slices in a bowl with the olive oil and a pinch of salt.<br /><br />On a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, spread the fennel in a single layer (you may need more than one baking sheet to achieve a single layer with this much fennel). Using a microplane grater, or the smallest holes on a box grater, grate the parmesan over the fennel. The fennel should be well coated with cheese—it will look like it’s been through a heavy frost, or a light snowfall. It’s best to grate the cheese over the fennel, rather than grate it ahead and scatter it. It becomes somewhat compacted when you pick it up to scatter it. It will scatter more evenly if you grate and scatter at the same time.<br /><br />Roast the fennel for 20-25 minutes, or until the cheese is golden brown. Some of the pieces on the outer edges may get a bit darker—that’s fine. You want some contrast between the soft/crisp pieces and the crisp/crisp pieces. If you let the cheese get quite brown, you’ll actually get two dishes for the price of one. The bits of parmesan webbing between the fennel pieces are a sort of parmesan crisp or “tuille” that will add nice contrast to the dish as well. Remove from the oven when done to your liking and serve.</div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-63358633758947587882012-02-21T09:09:00.007-08:002012-02-21T09:27:33.057-08:00Basics: Scones<div><div>I have two recipes for you today: Plain Scones, and Bacon Scones with Maple Sugar.<br /><br />The first thing I realized about scones is that there’s not really anything particularly amusing to say about them. I’ve been trying for a week now to come up with some clever or witty take on scones, and I come up short every time. It’s not like they’re an object of ridicule, nor do they require a particularly challenging technique that can be unwittingly executed incorrectly with hilarious results. They’re just a fairly basic quick bread. So for Plain Scones, I fear I have nothing diverting to offer.<br /><br />This recipe makes eight very simple, very mildly flavored scones. They’re the recipe to use if you’ve made your own jam (or been given some). If you want to pep them up with dried fruit (blueberries or cherries) or other flavorings (cinnamon, perhaps), you could. I went with a very basic nutmeg, which I grate fresh using a little grater I have, and grate until the dusting of nutmeg is visible on top of the flour. Then I pulse it in. It amounts to probably two two-finger pinches. You can use more or less, depending on your affinity for nutmeg.<br /><br />Although the flavor is mild, the texture tends to the soft side. The bit of sugar over the top gives them a nice crunch and a bit of contrast. This is a good recipe to memorize (and not hard to do either, since almost everything is in quantities of two) and be able to whip up quickly on a Sunday morning when it turns out it’s much nicer outside than you thought it would be, and everyone decides to sit out on the porch and have coffee or tea. Appear 25 minutes later with a plate of scones and some nice jam, when everyone is just ready for their second cup of coffee, and you’ll be a hero.<br /><br />Now, the bacon scones actually have a bit of a backstory. Not a ton, I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high, but more than the Plain Scones. The idea for these came out of a passing remark. A batch of the plain scones was in the oven, and my husband walked in and said, “Bacon scones?” I said, “No, regular scones.” He said, “They smell like bacon scones.” When he tasted them, I asked him what he thought. “Not enough bacon,” was the response. OK, OK, I <em>get</em> it.<br /><br />Naturally, my first move was to post about it on FB: “Bacon scones: a good idea, or a disaster waiting to happen?” One friend commented that they would probably need a maple glaze of some kind. I remembered a bottle of granulated maple sugar I had picked up some time ago. This happens—I’ll buy non-perishable ingredients and just hang on to them until they come in handy. I scattered a bit of the sugar over the tops while they were baking, and realized when I tasted them that the sugar needed to be in the scones, as well as on them.<br /><br />The second batch was perfect. Which makes a sort of a dull story in the end—I told you not to get your hopes up—but a really excellent scone.<br /><br />However, a couple of comments on ingredients:<br /><br />I use a very thick cut bacon for these. This recipe has five primary ingredients—if any one of them is less than great, it will be apparent. So I use my “best” bacon for them. I also cook it in the oven. I’ve never been able to figure out why everyone doesn’t do this, but I know people who don’t. I think the bacon gets crisper (I like really crisp bacon), and there’s less mess. Although I don’t, you can even cook it on a rack over a pan and let the fat drip down away from the bacon, making it “healthier” (theoretically). You do need a rimmed baking sheet (but a 9 x 13” roasting pan would do fine), and I use nonstick foil. It goes in a 400 degree oven for about 25 minutes. I drain it immediately, and it crisps up so I can crumble it.<br /><br />Granulated maple sugar, which is really key in these, is hella expensive. It runs about $20 a pound at my grocery store. You can order it from The King Arthur Flour Company. Eight ounces will set you back about ten bucks, plus shipping. The good thing is you don’t need much, and it keeps for a really long time. The King Arthur website has lots of uses for it, if you decide you don’t want to keep it hanging around. Of you could use it the way you use Turbinado sugar (sometimes sold as Sugar in the Raw)—use it on cookies or muffins to add a little crunch. It has the benefit of adding the maple flavor as well. If you don’t have the maple sugar, you could try using brown sugar, or Turbinado sugar. I didn’t try the recipe with either of these, so I can’t certify your results, but if you go that route, I’d be interested in hearing if they’re successful.<br /><br />So there you have it: one basic recipe, and one amped up recipe. Not as much in the way of chat as accompany some other recipes, perhaps, but that’s how it is sometimes.</div><div><br /> </div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 241px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711640313218956450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYFNb4GdHs8UBcENx_-Vuu7QCcjVvSjhWaQka_zJuHEnGFprFIhB5zDzjFU0haAOz7CFApYb5cvp84fxQoul5YYhNM3kZLBPoLCHCPXeM_1AQ5fKhVzHxxaqYLoW_rFbfgIGC0A/s320/basic+scones.jpg" /><br /><strong>Plain Scones</strong><br />2 cups all-purpose flour<br />2 teaspoons baking powder<br />3 tablespoons granulated sugar<br />1 teaspoon kosher salt</div><div>1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg<br />2 tablespoons butter, cut into cubes<br />1 cup heavy cream<br />1 tablespoon Turbinado sugar<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F<br />2. In a food processor, combine flour, baking powder, sugar, nutmeg, and salt. Pulse 2-3 times to combine<br />3. Scatter butter cubes over top of flour mixture. Pulse 8-10 times until butter is in small pieces (it will be barely visible in with the flour).<br />4. With the motor running, pour the cream into the flour mixture, and continue pulsing until barely combined. The mixture will seem a bit damp and clumpy.<br />5. Turn dough out onto a floured board or counter top. Pat into a circle about 7” across and about ½” – ¾” thick. Using a knife or a bench scraper, cut the circle into 8 wedges. Place the wedges on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.<br />7. Using a pastry brush or small spoon, and the last of the cream in the measuring cup, brush the top of each wedge with cream, and scatter with 1 tablespoon of Turbinado sugar.<br />8. Bake 20-22 minutes, or until golden. Remove from oven and cool on a rack for 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.<div><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711639697678633378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65lVOJsyohNvgrReXRkk5YB7Vi_LAKlPGctdYhczoBGi2qNZrp5HI1aff0DdMunIK6K3uIKBvLOn4D4CeQRPL2SMD1kk76a61LqlNTWs7rwES1WeOV_5xOFJDHP-AU-OL1lP5jA/s320/bacon+scones.jpg" /><br /><br /><strong>Bacon Scones with Maple Sugar</strong><br />4 – 5 strips thick cut bacon, cooked very crisp, crumbled<br />2 cups all-purpose flour<br />2 teaspoons baking powder<br />2 tablespoons + 1 tablespoon granulated maple sugar<br />1 tablespoon granulated sugar<br />1 teaspoon kosher salt<br />2 tablespoons butter, cut into cubes<br />1 cup heavy cream<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F<br />2. In a food processor, combine flour, baking powder, 2 tablespoons maple sugar, regular sugar, and salt. Pulse 2-3 times to combine.<br />3. Scatter butter cubes over top of flour mixture. Pulse 8-10 times until butter is in small pieces (it will be barely visible in with the flour).<br />4. With the motor running, pour the cream into the flour mixture, and continue pulsing until barely combined. The mixture will seem a bit damp and clumpy.<br />5. Scatter the dough with the bacon crumbles and pulse 5-6 times to distribute evenly.<br />6. Turn dough out onto a floured board or counter top. Pat into a circle about 7” across and about ½” – ¾” thick. Using a knife or a bench scraper, cut the circle into 8 wedges. Place the wedges on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.<br />7. Using a pastry brush or small spoon, and the last of the cream in the measuring cup, brush the top of each wedge with cream, and scatter with 1 tablespoon of granulated maple sugar.<br />8. Bake 20-22 minutes, or until golden. Remove from oven and cool on a rack for 10 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.</div></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-72611664790724825042012-02-04T10:51:00.000-08:002012-02-04T14:55:00.401-08:00Starters: Roasted Beets with Blue Cheese, Hazelnuts, and Sour Cream Dressing<div>Poor beets. They are much maligned, that despised vegetable of childhood. So much abuse leveled at them: they’re old people food, they taste like dirt, they’re spongy, they’re just boring.</div><div><br /> </div><div>I won’t defend canned beets. In my opinion canned beets deserve the criticism they receive. But fresh beets are quite different. It’s like in high school when you meet your archenemy’s older sibling and discover that, while your archenemy is a jerk, his or her sibling is actually a nice person and you get along really well with them. It makes you wonder if they have the same parents, or if one of them was adopted.<br /><br />I spent years avoiding beets. I breezed past them on salad bars without a second look. They were those jerky canned beets. No way. Then one evening, at a very nice restaurant, I met cubed roasted golden beets. They were actually a garnish on something or other, and I decided to try them.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I have a theory about food. If there’s something I think I don’t like, or haven’t had an opportunity to taste (let’s be honest: often people say, “I don’t like X,” when what they mean is, “I’ve never had X,” or, “I had X that someone made at a party once and it tasted bad,” or, “I’m not sure how to prepare X, so I never have”), I make a point of trying it at a really good restaurant. My thinking is that if a good restaurant can’t make a disliked or feared ingredient taste good, we’re probably just not meant to be. This method has served me well. I ate cream of mushroom soup and developed an appreciation for mushrooms, and tried oysters on the half shell and came to see how good they can be, among other things.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>So here I was, in a quite nice restaurant, with roasted cubed yellow beets before me. They were a world away from those nasty canned beets of my childhood (which were served, I recall, with instant mashed potatoes, and a hamburger patty with American cheese on it—no bun, just a patty with cheese. All of which could possibly—although not completely—account for my aversion to beets). So I tasted these and was immediately smitten.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>I started experimenting with fresh beets, and found a new friend. I like them roasted with just a little olive oil, and then cubed, and possibly sautéed in a touch more oil, seasoned with salt and pepper. </div><div> </div><div><br />But one day, I started musing. This is something else I do. I muse. An ingredient will pop into my head—beets, polenta, halibut—and I’ll start turning over things to do with it. I’ll start running through other ingredients that might go with the one. It’s almost like a slot machine—the potential pairing ingredients will roll past (not quite as quickly as a slot machine, of course) and then all of a sudden, it’ll be a *chunk*chunk*chunk* and a combination will present itself. Sometimes I’ll keep one and discard the other two and start the process over. Sometimes all three or four will strike me as a winner. Then I start experimenting.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>This is how this beet concoction came to be. I suppose it’s technically a salad. Something in my head said, “Roasted beets. Blue cheese. Hazelnuts. Sour cream. Dijon mustard. White wine vinegar.” So I tried it. I roasted and cubed the beets, combined sour cream, Dijon mustard and white wine vinegar, scattered the cubed beets with the cheese and the nuts, drizzled over the dressing, and was completely won over.<br /><br /></div><div> </div><div>I took this to work for lunch and heated up the beets in the microwave (not ideal, but cooking facilities at my office are somewhat limited, obviously). I made it at home and reheated the beets in a pan on the stove with the merest splash of olive oil to keep them from sticking to the pan, and they were a delight.<br /><br />I think one of the reasons people think beets taste like dirt is that they sometimes do. My grocery store sells only organically grown beets. More often than not, they’re caked in mud (and can someone please explain to me why America equates, “organic” with, “filthy”? It seems to me that all organic produce I encounter in grocery stores is encrusted with vast quantities of dirt. I don’t get this.) As a result, if you don’t scrub beets really well—and I mean <em>really</em> well—they will taste like dirt, because they’ll be lightly dusted with soil. To use a term coined by one of my six year olds, roasted soil is undelicious. Ew.<br /></div><div><br />So scrub your beets really well. You can use any color beet you like—plain old magenta ones, golden ones, or the striped ones called Chioggia. The blue cheese I use is a moderately priced “Amish” blue cheese. This is strange, since I live thousands of miles from the nearest Amish person, but even if they’re imposters, they make decent blue cheese. You want a firm blue cheese that crumbles—Maytag blue is the texture you’re looking for, and it’s available most places. The hazelnuts are just hazelnuts. Buy them in the bulk section already skinned and chopped, and save yourself the chore of roasting, skinning, and chopping them.<br /><br /></div><div>As for the dressing, thin the sour cream to a drizzling consistency with white wine vinegar. You don’t want it too bitey, just enough to mellow the sour cream so it’s not too rich. The Dijon adds an extra dimension of flavor. If you’re serving this to guests, you can make everything up ahead of time—beets, dressing, cheese and nuts—but keep them separate until you serve. If you use regular beets (as opposed to golden beets), the dressing will turn pink, which is fine if you’re scraping up the last of it with your fork, but not so nice if the plate is just being set down in front of you.<br /><br /></div><div>I’m providing quantities, but you can also use your appetite, guests, menu, and palate as a guide. If you’re having this as a starter before a heavy winter meal, you might want to go lighter on the cheese and nuts, so everyone doesn’t fill up. If you’re using this in a transitional menu (a winter/spring one in which you’re serving something a little more delicate than a big stew or a braise, for instance) you could be a little more generous with the toppings to make sure no one goes home hungry. The same goes for the dressing—taste and see what you think. Too tart? More sour cream. Not assertive enough? A little more vinegar and perhaps another teaspoon of Dijon.<br /><br /></div><div>If your only experience with beets has been with canned ones, be assured that when you taste fresh beets, there will be hardly any resemblance. You’ll wonder if they even have the same parents as those jerky canned ones.<br /><br /></div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705355360023525218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYzoj4u6gmCASUrHU0P6XHXqkWQGhgVhKIXilgI6CJDBrfJZ_N5hMi2izh5aWNmOuZnuW9sHaF7a4jKOHhpi-8xy3ikWaTMWJOqC1QFTFNnMjapOWMLXwOtp1P_z13mu132qRuw/s320/beet+salad+wtih+sour+cream+dressing.JPG" /></div><div> </div><div><br /><br /><strong>Roasted Beets with Blue Cheese, Hazelnuts and Sour Cream Dressing</strong><br /><em>Serves 4-6 as a starter</em><br /><br /><u>Salad</u></div><div>4 medium beets (about 1 pound, greens removed)<br />Olive oil<br />2 ounces crumbly blue cheese, crumbled<br />¼ cup chopped hazelnuts<br />Baby arugula or baby spinach for serving (optional)<br /><br /><u>Dressing<br /></u>4 tablespoons sour cream <br />2 teaspoon Dijon mustard<br />2-3 teaspoons white wine vinegar<br /><br /></div><div><u>Directions</u><br />1) Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Scrub beets very well with a brush, and dry with a towel.<br /><br />2) In a small pan (you can even use an ovenproof skillet) pour a little olive oil. Add the beets, and roll them around to coat with the oil. Pour over a little more oil, if necessary to coat completely.<br /><br />3) Cover the pan with aluminum foil and roast for 30 minutes to an hour, depending on the size of your beets. (A note about beet size and roasting times, the variation of the former of which will greatly influence the latter: My beets, generally, are about the size of an average woman’s fist. Four beets of this size is about a pound. However, you may sometimes find ones that are smaller. In this case, you’ll want to roast them a shorter time. A good rule of thumb is that you should be able to stick a fork into them, but it should resist a little. If it just slides in the way it would into a baked potato, they’re overdone. Start checking big ones at 30 minutes, smaller ones at 15).<br /><br />4) Allow the beets to cool until they can just be handled, then rub the skin off with a piece of paper towel. If you let them cool too far, and the skins resist rubbing off, just get out your vegetable peeler and peel them. Beets have skin like carrots—very thin and easily scraped<br />off.<br /><br />5) Cut off the root and top ends of the beets and cut into ¼-1/2” cubes. Set aside<br /><br />6) For the dressing, in a small bowl, combine the sour cream and Dijon mustard. Stir to combine. Add in the white wine vinegar, a little salt and a little pepper. Taste and adjust seasoning. Set aside.<br /><br />7) If you decide to do the beets well ahead, you’ll need to reheat them. To do this, heat a teaspoon or so of olive oil in a medium skillet, and add the beets. Allow the beets to just heat through, tossing from time to time to keep them from sticking.<br /><br />8) To serve, you can put down a small bed of baby arugula or baby spinach, if desired. On each plate, mound up some beets, and season lightly with a little salt and pepper (just a pinch of each per plate). Scatter with blue cheese and hazelnuts, and drizzle with a tablespoon or so of dressing.<br /><br />9) Serve immediately.<br /></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-14969399755836293352012-01-16T10:30:00.000-08:002012-01-16T12:09:13.027-08:00Luncheon Dishes: Mushroom & Tallegio Tart<div>I have to say this. I've been holding it back for years. Only a few of those closest to me know this, but I feel now that I have to make this more widely known.</div><p>I hate quiche.</p><p>"Oh no," some will say, "'Hate' is such a strong word." OK, Mom, you're right, it is. How about, "I loathe quiche"? I do. I loathe quiche.</p><p>Quiche lovers (or, as we quiche loathers refer to them, "the unwashed masses") will claim I've not had a good one. I have eaten quiches in people's homes, in restaurants, and made them myself, and I have yet to come across one that I would friend on Facebook, much less have as a meal. (As an aside, is "quiche" like "sheep"? Are the singular and the plural the same word? Or is "quiches" a word? I am too indifferent to look it up, so I will just use whichever suits me at the time. If you see me use "quiche" as the plural, you'll know I was too lazy to execute the additional keystroke.) </p><p>I've had quiche that were no thicker than the average IHOP pancake, and ones that were 4+ inches deep (true story). Every single one was completely, and in all ways, feh. I think this whole response to milk and eggs cooked together actually dates back to my early childhood. When I first was able to eat solids, my mother lovingly made me a custard of the finest ingredients, carefully coddled, and served with the deepest maternal pride. (This is my mother's version of the story, as you may gather.) She popped a spoonful into my precious little mouth, whereupon I turned my head to one side, and ever so delicately pushed it right back out with my tongue and refused to take so much as one more bite. When you consider knowledge of this event--an event that took place long before my conscious memory could have recorded it--you will deduce that my mother told the story many, many times over the years. (MANY times.)</p><p>So it is, perhaps, not suprising that quiche is not on my list of Dishes to Serve at My Last Meal on Earth. Nor even on my List of Things I Like to Eat Very Much. Every quiche I've ever had has been an unfortunate combination of bland and soggy. It's just not possible to put milk and eggs into a pie crust and not have the crust get sodden. And no matter how much bacon and cheese you put in, milk and eggs are just never going to be that flavorful. I am a firm believer that there is almost nothing on this earth that can't be improved with the addition of some combination of bacon, cheese, heavy cream and/or Dijon mustard. But quiche, in my opinion, is beyond redemption, even by those most holy of ingredients.</p><p>Poor quiche. What did it ever do to me to excite such venom in my being? And so, because I feel in my deepest heart a bit guilty over my unqualified aversion to a foodstuff that never really caused me any harm, I offer an alternative to it.</p><p>If you've never had mushrooms with Taleggio cheese, I'm quite envious of you, because you're in for an amazing discovery. It is, in my opinion, one of the classic pairings, like mozzarella and tomatoes. Because the crust of this tart includes some cornmeal, it's sturdier than a regular pie crust. And since the filling is held together by just a suggestion of creme fraiche and an egg yolk, it doesn't turn the crust to mush. </p><p>The filling can be varried according to your taste and the tastes of your guests. If you're serving vegetarians, you can leave out the proscuitto and increase the red onion and mushrooms. If you don't have (or don't like) red onion, you can substitute something else--scallion, perhaps, or shallot. </p><p>And, in the cliched words of every cookbook author that ever wrote, this tart, along with a green salad, makes a nice lunch or light dinner. </p><div> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 181px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698317438071386210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UCiLoEqS3Bku-EPeLnH1ahcDCX64a7zSgJBzew083HoBQcFfd8UzUEwKiAr7JIJ7HNllRw5ENGHNhQKe0v-qhuwVQBKh50E869kKZR7eqHnTjw1Wb5Ygae10L7W20MnVE6I1Sg/s320/mushroom+and+taleggio+tart.JPG" /></div><div><strong></strong> </div><div><strong>Mushroom & Taleggio Tart</strong></div><div> serves 6-8</div><div> </div><div><u><em>Ingredients</em><br /></u></div><div>Crust<br />1 ½ cups all purpose flour<br />½ cup cornmeal<br />11 tablespoons butter, chilled<br />3-6 tablespoons ice water<br />1 egg yolk<br />¼ teaspoon salt<br /><br />Filling<br />¼ cup crème fraiche<br />2 egg yolks<br />1 ½ ounces prosciutto, chopped fine<br />½ pound mushrooms, washed and sliced<br />2 tablespoons butter<br />½ red onion, diced<br />2 tablespoons olive oil<br />¾ pound of Taleggio cheese, rind removed, sliced thin</div><div> </div><p><u><em>Directions</em></u><br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly coat a 9” tart pan with a removable bottom with cooking spray and set aside.</p><p>2. In a food processor, combine the flours and salt and pulse a couple of times to combine. Add the butter, cut into small pieces, and pulse 10-12 times until butter the butter is in pieces the size of a pea. </p><p>3. With the motor running, add the egg yolk and ice water until the dough pulls together. Start with 3 tablespoons and add more tablespoon by tablespoon as needed. Do not overprocess.<br /></p><p>4. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and roll out to a 12” circle. Roll the dough up on the rolling pin and unroll it over the tart pan. Press the dough down into the pan and up the sides. Roll the rolling pin over the top of the pan to cut off the edges. Using a fork, prick the dough all over. Line the pan with foil or parchment paper and fill with pie weights or dried beans.<br /><br />5. Bake the crust for 15 minutes, then remove from the oven, take out the pie weights. Return crust to the oven for another 10 minutes. The crust is done when it’s lightly brown. Remove and allow to cool for 10-15 minutes. </p><p>6. Make the filling. Combine the crème fraiche and egg yolks in a small bowl. Set aside.<br /><br />7. Over medium heat, melt the butter until foaming, then add the mushrooms. Sautee until the mushrooms release their liquid and it evaporates, and the mushrooms are starting to get golden brown, about 10 minutes. Turn the mushrooms into a bowl, and return the pan to the heat. </p><p>8. Add the olive oil and sauté the red onion until soft, about 5 minutes. Turn the onion into the bowl with the mushrooms. Return the pan to the heat and add the prosciutto. Sautee until crisped, about 4 minutes. Stir into the mushroom and onion mixture.<br /></p><p>9. Reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees. </p><p>10. Once the crust has cooled slightly, spoon the filling into the crust, making sure to distribute it evenly around the crust. Pour the egg yolk mixture over the top, distributing it evenly (use a spoon to push it around—you may need to push the filling along with it, but you can smooth the filling back into place; there should be a thin coating of the egg yolk mixture all over the tart). </p><p>11. Top the tart with the cheese, placing slices close to, but not touching, each other. They’ll spread out as they cook.<br /></p><p>12. Bake for 22-27 minutes until the filling is set. The cheese will puff slightly and may turn golden in spots. Allow to cool for 5-10 minutes for the filling to set up. Slice tart into 6 or 8 wedges and serve warm.<br /></p>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-21026166072983778692012-01-07T14:59:00.000-08:002012-01-07T15:16:30.062-08:00Basics: Two Ingredient Bread<div>A little over 15 years ago, my mother in law died very suddenly. This was, as you can imagine, hard on everyone, but it was particularly hard on my father in law, and for reasons beyond the obvious lonely/sad that comes with the loss of someone who’s been part of your life for most of your adulthood. My mother in law, as is the case for so many men of his generation, was his conduit to the world. She arranged his social life, sent out the Christmas cards, and was the primary point of contact for their kids.<br /><br />She was the one who called us, extended invitations for holidays, organized family gatherings when we were visiting. She knew what was going on in our lives and what we were planning—buying and selling houses, changing jobs, etc. With her gone, my father in law really didn’t know how to connect with us.<br /><br />As he struggled to forge a different kind of relationship with Alex and me, he sought a common interest among the three of us, and settled on food. The problem is, my father in law is a really bad cook. Alex describes his “signature dish” from their childhood, which evidently consisted of a can of corned beef hash mixed with ketchup and a few other components (after the canned hash and the ketchup, I’m always too nauseous to absorb the rest of the ingredient list, so I can’t tell you what’s in it beyond that, but really, does it matter? Ick). This food (I use the term loosely) was known as “Special Dish” and was evidently the pinnacle of my father in law’s culinary abilities.<br /><br />So our conversations about food were primarily limited to his descriptions of what was currently in his refrigerator, along with what kind of soup he’d recently made or was planning to make. With my mother in law gone, he became an almost fanatical consumer of soup, it seemed. Any and every ingredient was fair game. I remember his coming for Fourth of July one year and Alex made, as he did every year, a big pot of dirty rice to take to an annual party. At the end of the party, there was still quite a lot left, and my father in law lamented that he couldn’t take it home and make soup out of it.<br /><br />On a related note, he was also notoriously bad about throwing things out that were past their prime. During one visit, my sister in law and I decided that we couldn’t bear the fug of the refrigerator any longer, and launched a campaign to clean it out. He agreed, but insisted on overseeing the operation. Things went fairly well until we came to a little Styrofoam bowl of mashed potatoes. As we pulled them out, he kept insisting that those were “perfectly good” and that they were “just from when Shirley was here!” (Shirley being my husband’s aunt, and her visit had happened a good six weeks earlier. "That's just from when Shirley was here!" has become a catchphrase in our family, used when disposing of leftovers or containers of ingredients that are past their prime.) My sister in law made the mistake of opening them and actually taking a whiff, causing her to lunge for the sink, unsure if she was going to be sick, and to immediately dump the offending potatoes down the drain. She said later she had no idea why she’d bothered to smell them, as the green fuzz growing all over them left not a shadow of a doubt as to their fate. Doubtless they would have found their way into a pot of soup if we hadn’t intervened.<br /><br />All of this is a very roundabout way of getting to the recipe I have for you. Not unlike my earlier <a href="http://themodernapron.blogspot.com/2011/12/dessert-cinnamon-roll-cookies.html">ramblings on Christmas cookies,</a> these stories and this recipe have only the most tenuous of connections. The recipe is for the world’s simplest bread. It’s two ingredients, and both of them are cheap and easy to come by. If you can turn on the oven and stir, you can make this bread. It’s great hot from the oven, but also makes good toast if you have it left the next day. I urge you to use the cheapest beer you have for this. Anything with any real distinctive flavor is going to make the beer taste in the bread too strong. When I was in college, we went to the grocery store and happened on generic beer. It came in white cans and had the word “BEER” written in black letters on it. If you can find this, it would be perfect. Budweiser or PBR is fine too. The flour must be self-rising. Regular all-purpose won’t do the trick. You should be able to find self-rising flour along with all the other flours in the grocery store. And don’t bother adding salt either. Self-rising flour has salt already in it, along with the leavening it contains.<br /><br />I love this bread because it means we can have hot bread with dinner on a cold night with very little effort. You can leave it plain, or you can jazz it up with a couple of handfuls of shredded cheddar cheese, or some chopped herbs, depending on what you’re having with it (of course, then it’s no longer two ingredient bread). It’s nice with chili, stew, or even soup, if that’s what you happen to be having. Too bad I never thought to give my father in law this recipe when he was in his soup phase all those years ago.</div><div><br /> </div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 233px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695030420267324690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3GB-ynAXA0R-gtnodTR2yu9HmK2UEiXOscyXtuPvu87vVd2Tkw7YAzdgesgUPlJShonwKFC4MQ_rTxnkdPmazBTmn0R5HOvvEo-tbJdkYdqNFGWH1utUjGXjR12_Lka4MOtDGQ/s320/beer+bread.JPG" /><br /><strong>Two Ingredient Bread</strong><br />Makes 1 loaf<br /><br />2 ½ cups self-rising flour<br />1 can (12 oz) cheap beer<br /><br />1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Grease a loaf pan (mine is about 8 ½” x 4 ½”—you can use any size you like, even two smaller ones, but if you use one substantially larger, your loaf will be wider and shorter as the batter spreads to fill the pan).<br />2. In a large bowl, combine the flour with the beer. Turn the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top.<br />3. Bake about 40-50 minutes. The loaf will sound hollow when you knock on the bottom, but really, if your oven is reasonably accurate, after about 45 minutes, this bread will be done. It’s such a cinchy thing to make that I don’t want to stress you out by even worrying about knocking the bottom of loaves, or checking it with skewers or thermometers.<br />4. Allow to sit for about ten minutes, then slice and serve.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-42276873900480889232011-12-27T14:21:00.000-08:002011-12-27T14:38:26.294-08:00Dessert: Cinnamon Roll Cookies<div><div>This is a meandering musing about Christmas cookies. It’s kind of two unrelated stories that I’ve joined together, but it’s what popped into my head when I started thinking about what to say about the cookies I made.<br /><br />I was having a conversation with a friend about Christmas cookies a week or so before Christmas, and we got to talking about the deterioration of quality of baked goods as people age. I won’t lie—it was a pretty mean conversation, in some ways. She was complaining about her mother’s poor execution of the sausage balls over Thanksgiving (Bisquick, bulk sausage, and cheddar cheese, the recipe is <a href="http://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes/bisquick-sausge-balls/1e4b70e6-9fcf-40e7-baf8-57cfce15f2b6">here</a>, if you want it; in the manner of so many things that are made with what I call “low rent” ingredients, they are embarrassingly tasty), and I was telling her about Alex’s grandmother’s Christmas cookies.<br /><br />I was assured that at one time, Grammy’s cookies were second to none. I’m not sure if that was an opinion clouded by the passage of time, or biased by affection, or possibly both, or if Grammy’s cookies had really once been great and had just gotten awful. But trust me, they were horrible. The only ones I can actually remember her making are Mexican wedding cakes. I think the truth was that she made several things—chocolate chip, fruitcake cookies and some fudge as well as other things, but they all seemed to be little stones covered with powdered sugar (they were all little stones, but I think the fact that they were all covered in powdered sugar had to do with them all being in the tin together and the sugar sifting off of the wedding cakes and on to every other thing around them). We always thanked her profusely and assured her we’d eat them on the way home.<br /><br />Of course we never told her how they really were, nor what we really did with them (I can be mean, but I’m not that mean), which was to sow them along the roadside between Adams, MA and Falls Church, VA at regular intervals. Every so often we’d declare it to be time for a cookie, choose one, and announce the type. Only what we’d say was something like, “Mexican wedding anvil!” or “Chocolate chip brick!” or similar, and hurl it out the window. Then we’d say something witty like, “Oops! Sorry about that, Mr. Squirrel! I’m sure the swelling will go down in a couple of days!” or “Uh oh—that Jersey wall will never be the same again!” And you’re wondering why CBS still has Letterman in its late night line up instead of us.<br /><br />And then when I started making my own Christmas cookies this year, I realized I’m bored with the same old Christmas cookies we’ve made every year. Chocolate chip. Oatmeal raisin. Peanut butter. “Magic” cookies (which aren’t “magic” cookies in the Eagle Sweetened Condensed Milk recipe definition, and in fact are actually a recipe called Favorite Chocolate Caramel Nut Bars and came out of a package of Kraft Caramels in the 1980s, but for some reason my grandmother always called them magic cookies, so that’s what I call them, but it always confuses people, who think they’re the kind made with a can of sweetened condensed milk, shredded coconut, and chocolate chips, and my high school English teacher just had an aneurism because this whole parenthetical aside is textbook case of comma abuse). Toffee Nut Bars. Brownies. I guess I’m just jaded, but all of those things just sound boring, boring, boring.<br /><br />So I decided to come up with something a little different, and all my own. I got to thinking about things I’d like to translate into cookie form, and for some reason I thought of cinnamon rolls. At first I thought about doing them as an actual roll, but that experiment wasn’t much of a success. The dough I chose is pretty easy to work with, but doesn’t lend itself to being rolled out, filled, and rolled back up. It would make an admirable refrigerator log cookie (in fact, that’s its true application), but as a rolled up filled deal, not so much. So I decided to make them a thumbprint cookie, something I’ve had trouble with in the past, but figured I’d give another try.<br /><br />I won’t keep you in suspense--they did work. My husband even liked them (he’s my harshest critic when I’m developing my own recipes, and he usually curls his lip at about 1/3 of everything and sends me back to the drawing board. With, I should hasten to add, constructive feedback for improvement). I got feedback from some other tasters, primarily about the distribution of filling within the cookie, which I’ve included within the recipe instructions.<br /><br />The cookie part of these isn’t particularly sweet, which is good because the filling would make your teeth ache if you ate it on its own, and they both have a sort of crumbly tenderness to them. So they balance and complement each other pretty nicely. The topping could be piped on or spread on with a spoon, or if you prefer to drizzle for aesthetic purposes, you could—just add a bit more heavy cream until the icing is thin enough.<br /><br />It’s possible that in another 40 years, my children or grandchildren will toss these out a car window yelling, “Cinnamon Roll rock!” but as long as they thank me profusely when I give them the cookies, I’ll be none the wiser.</div><div><br /> </div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690940088106472898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyERB_eU2Ll663dsu9DnQrEQDStopIgfSlqjGHXwdAWLQXDWN_JakYtc3h6ex9aCOMqNkudC_qRbWX9RNBdxoGxEke-NFhjdVkajW5-ZgXh_NP-zO5P_vqST3wakc0PfsaeRUnA/s320/cinnamon+roll+cookies.JPG" /><br /><strong>Cinnamon Roll Cookies</strong><div>makes 24-30 cookies<br /><br /><u>Ingredients</u></div><div><br />Cookie dough<br />2 sticks butter, softened<br />½ cup + 1 Tablespoon granulated sugar<br />2 ½ cups all purpose flour<br />1 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />1 teaspoon ground cinnamon<br />½ teaspoon kosher salt<br /><br />Pecan Sugar Filling<br />½ cup pecans<br />½ teaspoon cinnamon<br />¼ cup light or dark brown sugar<br />1 teaspoon water<br /><br />Icing<br />2 ½ ounces cream cheese at room temperature<br />3 Tablespoons powdered sugar<br />1 teaspoon lemon juice<br />2-3 teaspoons heavy cream (enough to make a<br />spreadable or pipable paste)<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees<br />2. In a large bowl cream together butter and sugar.<br />3. When butter is light and fluffy, and sugar is fully incorporated, add the vanilla, salt, and cinnamon. Beat to combine.<br />4. Add flour slowly, mixing until just combined.<br />5. Form dough into 1” balls and place on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper.<br />6. In a food processor, combine pecans, sugar and cinnamon, and process until pecans are finely ground. With the motor running, add the teaspoon of water and pulse 8-10 more times until the mixture forms a thick paste.<br />7. Using your thumb, make a depression in each cookie. You can spread them out a bit<br />and make a fairly wide, shallow indentation, or make a deeper, more narrow indentation (the feedback I got was that the taster would have preferred the wide shallow configuration, because then they would have gotten a bit of filling in each bite; it’s a personal preference). These cookies don’t spread much as they cook.<br />8. Using a spoon or your fingers, fill each indentation with about a teaspoon of the pecan/sugar paste.<br />9. Bake 17-22 minutes, or until cookies are light golden and filling is set. Allow to set up for 5 minutes on the baking sheet, then transfer to racks to cool completely.<br />10. While the cookies bake and cool, make the frosting. Combine cream cheese, lemon juice and sugar in a small bowl and mix to combine. Pour cream in ½ to 1 teaspoon at a time, beating after each addition, until the mixture reaches a consistency you can either pipe or spread on the cookies (it should be a bit thinner than toothpaste).<br />11. Once the cookies have cooled completely, top each cookie with a dollop of icing (the icing can be piped using a pastry bag, a plastic bag with the corner snipped off, or you can just use a spoon to spread it gently over the filling).</div></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-11058106530848483432011-12-19T19:58:00.000-08:002011-12-21T16:49:53.585-08:00Desserts: Butterscotch Sauce<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><span>The </span><a href="http://themodernapron.blogspot.com/2011/09/desserts-salted-caramel-cheesecake.html"><span>Salted Caramel Cheesecake</span></a><span> I posted here back in September has taken on a life of its own. This is entirely thanks to </span><a href="http://pinterest.com/"><span>Pinterest</span></a><span>. It got pinned once or twice, and has been repinned and repinned. I'm delighted that so many people are interested in it, but I have to tell you, it's somewhat harrowing as well.</span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>This particular recipe is my own creation, not something I "adapted" from another source. It's rather like looking at your child and hoping that people find him or her as appealing as you do. </span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>At the same time, "salt" is a very personal taste. What you find salty, I may find bland. What I find unpalatably saline, you may taste as perfection. Also, I am very sensitive to both the disappointment that comes from making something for a special occasion that turns out to be less than expected, and additionally to the wastefulness that comes from having to toss 3/4 of a finished dish. So when a few people said it was just too salty for them, I felt personally responsible. </span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>And so I am back today with another dessert concoction, but not a "salted" one. This time I am resurrecting my love affair with butterscotch. From a child I have felt that a butterscotch sundae beat the pants off of hot fudge. True butterscotch (as opposed to caramel sauce, which is what many sundaes are made with) has the same warm, sugary notes that caramel has, but with an added complexity from the molasses in the brown sugar that generally goes in butterscotch. Also, caramel is such a small amount of butter in a greater amount of cream and sugar syrup. My butterscotch is almost as much butter as sugar and cream. </span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>I read dozens of butterscotch and sticky toffee recipes before making this. I thought about including some kind of liquor--rum or similar--but decided to keep it pure. But I did want to emphasize the molasses, so I added just a smidge. I have Lyle's Golden Syrup in my pantry, but I realize not everyone has access to this, so I used dark Karo syrup instead. The difference in flavor is minimal in the finished product.</span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>It took a lot of self control not to eat the whole recipe with a spoon right out of the container. I'm planning on serving this on Christmas Day for dessert with a Brown Sugar and Brandy Pear Turnover served with homemade vanilla ice cream. This isn't the best picture of it--I just shot it with my phone because I was worried that if I didn't, I'd eat it all and then I wouldn't have anything to show you.</span></div><div><span> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 240px; height: 305px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688724913328035314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNplTutu13kqLCzPyzWfgt4E5JV5qlF8xrKXRMLlEDkBje0lhmjK0kjdkiCJrw9fEjRU51mLN39rphn6su8qW2OBJG4vnSTsgdGXpHbAakKTCuXYd_rJNpd5mpkj4cNtjlwfJr2w/s320/butterscotch+sauce.jpg" /></span></div><div><span> <strong>Butterscotch Sauce</strong></span></div><div><span> </span></div><div>Makes a little more than 1 cup of sauce</div><div> </div><div><em><span>Ingredients</span></em></div><div><span>2T butter</span></div><div><span>1/4 cup + 1T dark brown sugar (you can probably use light, but I had dark on hand)</span></div><div><span>1/2 teaspoon molasses</span></div><div><span>1T dark Karo syrup</span></div><div><span>1 teaspoon vanilla extract</span></div><div><span>pinch of salt</span></div><div><span>1/2 cup heavy cream</span></div><div><em></em><span> </span></div><div><em></em><span> </span></div><div><em><span>Detailed Instructions</span></em></div><div><span>1. In a small saucepan over low heat, melt butter with brown sugar, molasses and Karo syrup. When butter has completely melted, add vanilla and salt and stir to combine. </span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>2. Increase heat to medium, and add heavy cream. Over medium heat, cook stirring frequently until mixture has the consistetency of cream of tomato soup, about 5-7 minutes. It's fine if it's at a strong simmer (lots of medium sized bubbles around the edges) but you don't want the whole thing to boil or you'll end up with pralines. </span></div><div><span> </span></div><div><span>3. Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Resist the urge to eat it all as though it were soup. Transfer to a container and refrigerate. The sauce will thicken up as it cools.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11942223629303845455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-90431446139250408292011-11-28T11:23:00.000-08:002011-11-28T11:23:17.129-08:00Appetizers: Puff Pastry Bacon Spirals<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">N.B. I wrote this over the weekend. I am no longer quite this cranky. But boy was I ever when I wrote this.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I want to apologize because I’m kind of cranky today. I really don’t know why. I don’t have anything to be cranky about, when you come right down to it. And it almost feels wrong to be cranky over the Thanksgiving holiday. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I mean, I know people are—their families drive them crazy and they get grouchy. I’m lucky because I genuinely like my family. They’re people I’d want to be friends with, even if I wasn’t related to them. And I live close enough to all my family that we don’t have to go and stay with them to celebrate with them. We can eat and go home to our own space and our own beds and so on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And today is my birthday. You might think that’s what’s making me crabby—another year older and all that—but honestly that’s not it. I kind of like birthdays and I don’t get grumpy about getting old or anything like that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’re decorating for Christmas, which I always really like too. Getting all the lights up, taking out all the fun things we bought on clearance last year (I mean, really—I bought one of those Charlie Brown trees, the sad little stick with the five needles and a single red ball to put on it—last year for a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">buck</i>, and now I’m seeing them in stores again for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">twelve and fifteen dollars</i>; it’s just crazy). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think one thing that’s contributing to my cranky is that I cut my finger a week or so ago, and now I have this massive bandage on it. I was slicing leeks, and while I had my fingers in the correct curled under position when I was cutting most of the way along, I got to that last quarter inch and changed my grip, and nearly cut off the tip of my left middle finger. I’ll spare you the graphic description, but suffice to say there were sutures involved and it wasn’t pretty. So with this massive bandage, it takes me three times longer to do much of anything, and I’m supposed to be making another Thanksgiving dinner again tomorrow night so we have leftovers for next week. On Thanksgiving day, we had 18 people, so had very little left over (well, not the stuff I wanted left over—stuffing and gravy, and besides, I want to make my stuffing, which I love but which consists primarily of a bag of Pepperidge Farm and some cooked bulk sausage).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I’m kind of just accepting my cranky. But I think that’s putting me in a worse mood. Being in a bad mood is putting me in a worse mood. How’s that for logic?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So I decided to share a recipe for something that, if I had it, would make me feel better. Puff pastry bacon spirals.These are great party food. You can make them up ahead and cook them off just before you need to serve them, although they also are pretty decent at room temperature. They’re not supposed to be particularly pretty, so kids can help with the assembly. And they’re bacon. How can you go wrong?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m not usually much of a one for “during” shots, but I’m including two for this recipe because I wanted to make sure you got a feel for how done “halfway” is for the bacon, and to illustrate the “twist.” If you cook the bacon too done in the first step, you’ll have a hard time twisting it in the second step. If it’s not done enough, it won’t get nicely crisp. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Bacon Spirals</strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><u>Ingredients</u></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 sheet puff pastry, thawed and cut into ¼” strips (about 36 strips, about 3” long—if your pastry comes folded in thirds, you can cut each third into 12 or so strips; I use Pepperidge Farm brand)</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 pound bacon, each strip cut in half the short way (don’t use the really thick cut artisan bacon for this—you really want the thinner cut because it’s easier to twist; you probably won’t use the whole pound but how many pieces are in a package will depend on the brand and the thickness of the slices; I use Smithfield brand)</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><u>Directions</u></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Preheat oven to 375 degrees. On a rimmed baking sheet lined with foil or parchment, lay out the bacon slices. Bake for about 7-10 minutes, or until partially cooked (see picture).</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjYScdIUOrdE2UB0-CTiyXaSZzkUbfZdf_0ZvfscDa9f2h3U4lLzrQaAra9njbKeo5XSSTQ5uH6JmmyTBfjsoOB2emI6FPy4iLiQ7vu570BBmFoPy8vgGCFt6GKMRGVmddV-MMw/s1600/bacon+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjYScdIUOrdE2UB0-CTiyXaSZzkUbfZdf_0ZvfscDa9f2h3U4lLzrQaAra9njbKeo5XSSTQ5uH6JmmyTBfjsoOB2emI6FPy4iLiQ7vu570BBmFoPy8vgGCFt6GKMRGVmddV-MMw/s400/bacon+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cooked about halfway--a bit of browning around the edge, and the fat starting to render, but still flabby and pliable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Remove bacon from the oven and allow to cool slightly, until it can be handled, about 10 minutes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Twist together one slice of bacon with one strip of the puff pastry. Pinch the ends together to keep them from untwisting. You’re sort of wrapping the pastry around the bacon. As you twist, you can pull the pastry out slightly to make it longer, if necessary, to get it around the whole piece of bacon. (See picture.) Place each spiral on a rimmed baking sheet lined with foil or parchment (you might want to use a new liner, and not just return them to the pan the bacon cooked on the first time, because the residual bacon fat from baking off the bacon half way may make them too greasy).</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0E4wKFjqRv_opvYqJ0A8Hij53j4qUIXQAgaE3-GWCWad6psgmORgcK-aHIWbIbLVcArIQDyMTAM_gozEXsyPmzVNBSzrCTFsl_7Sb6yRB-n6e-65FEMsLE9zmQi02M20V0YhxA/s1600/bacon+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0E4wKFjqRv_opvYqJ0A8Hij53j4qUIXQAgaE3-GWCWad6psgmORgcK-aHIWbIbLVcArIQDyMTAM_gozEXsyPmzVNBSzrCTFsl_7Sb6yRB-n6e-65FEMsLE9zmQi02M20V0YhxA/s400/bacon+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? Not very pretty or tidy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;">Return the pan to the oven, and cook 18-22 minutes, or until the pastry is puffed and golden, and the bacon is cooked through. Serve warm or at room temperature.</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-OnPP36W_R_k_vn0LFsaKjI2xE03pcLIOpJzzMbso35APSC6ox_SA1HlP1HdNKDGoOXSznXDsfK_fpl83s1I-OrzGnkHd1IzrFWPFFmfl_ifecK1xSzm_Zyqz_wfY0_pZXpioQ/s1600/bacon+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT-OnPP36W_R_k_vn0LFsaKjI2xE03pcLIOpJzzMbso35APSC6ox_SA1HlP1HdNKDGoOXSznXDsfK_fpl83s1I-OrzGnkHd1IzrFWPFFmfl_ifecK1xSzm_Zyqz_wfY0_pZXpioQ/s400/bacon+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-24409461996968711532011-11-22T10:53:00.000-08:002011-11-22T11:46:55.453-08:00Dulce de Leche Cheesecake Follow UpThere were a lot of questions about the dulce de leche--what kind, how much, can I make it myself? Here's the comment I posted in the comments:<br />
<br />
OK so to address everyone who is asking about dulce de leche--I buy it in the "latin foods" section of the grocery store. And that's in my local Super Wal Mart. If you're buying it by the can, I think it's a 14 oz can. Also, you can buy it on Amazon in a 6 or 8 pack.<br />
<br />
Now, if you simply can't find it and don't want to order it, you can make it yourself. Take 1 can of sweetened condendensed milk (the 14 oz size), pop a couple of holes in it with a churchkey (the pointy single-hole style can opener) and put it in a water bath with the water almost to the top of the can. Bring the water to a simmer and keep it there for about four hours. You'll have to watch it and top up the water as it boils away. The longer you let it cook (and you can't really overcook it) the more caramely and rich it will be.<br />
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The salt in all three parts is kosher salt. DON'T USE TABLE SALT.<br />
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I don't use a water bath when cooking the cheesecake--just goes right in the oven. :)<br />
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Here's a link to Amazon--this is the brand of dulce de leche that my grocery store carries.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lechera-Dulce-Leche-13-4-Ounce-Container/dp/B001EPPBMW/ref=sr_1_1?s=grocery&ie=UTF8&qid=1321991192&sr=1-1">http://www.amazon.com/Lechera-Dulce-Leche-13-4-Ounce-Container/dp/B001EPPBMW/ref=sr_1_1?s=grocery&ie=UTF8&qid=1321991192&sr=1-1</a><br />
I hope everyone enjoys this!!<br />
<br />
If you have any other questions, leave them in the comments either on the original post, or on this one, and I'll be better about checking, I promise!TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-90933250252402609802011-10-14T14:07:00.000-07:002011-10-14T14:08:21.667-07:00Side Dishes: Potato Stacks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6C7qaozozymXIuTUEFN-45FToyZ_4M6panWHO5Sr0cCOPsr5PjDdSecgpXDcipmAtV0xP-xcjHDBGwpngb2VtplQ7BdtA6UCZQR29Ky_xmh6NI85hjEZnhAUJktmd9kPizGSCNA/s1600/potato+pile.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6C7qaozozymXIuTUEFN-45FToyZ_4M6panWHO5Sr0cCOPsr5PjDdSecgpXDcipmAtV0xP-xcjHDBGwpngb2VtplQ7BdtA6UCZQR29Ky_xmh6NI85hjEZnhAUJktmd9kPizGSCNA/s400/potato+pile.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m always looking for something new to do with potatoes. I oven roast the small ones—the ones that are about the size of a ping pong ball--whole with some olive oil, I mash russets, I slice Yukon Golds thin and cook them with a little cream and some Gruyere cheese for a gratin. I’ve also cooked the small potatoes in boiling water, smashed them, and roasted the smashed potatoes. Sooner or later, though, I just can’t face another potato, roasted, mashed or gratineed. Enter this recipe. But there’s something distinctive about this recipe, or rather, about its name.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes a family has a name for something that other people would find unpleasant or even downright gross. My grandmother used to call every fairly sticky, globy food “goop.” At the dinner table she’d hold up a serving spoon full of something like macaroni and cheese or mashed potatoes and ask, “Would anyone care for more goop?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What always made this unfortunate was that's what she called what came out of your nose too. My mother always had a particular dislike for this reference, as she said the association always took her appetite away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My grandmother’s reference was a sort of all-purpose one. Ours is more specific. We have this recipe--we call it potato piles. It doesn’t sound very appetizing, but really potato piles (or potato stacks, to use the term we use around company) are quite wonderful. The reason we don’t call them potato stacks in our day to day vernacular is…well, because we just don’t, but really these aren’t stacks. They really are just little piles of potato slices with some herbs and olive oil. As a result, they’re less of a recipe than a technique.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The herbs can be to your taste. Swap out sage or finely chopped rosemary, if that’s what you happen to have. Or use a combination of herbs. They can be as large or as small as you like, but for my purposes I like about piles that are an inch or so high, and spread out about 5” .They settle a bit as they cook. The higher they are, the longer they’ll take to cook, and you could end up with overdone edges and an underdone middle. The beauty of these is that you get the contrast of soft and crisp in the same dish. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One average size russet potato makes about four stacks, which can be either two servings or four, depending on what you’re serving with them. They’re easy enough that they could accompany a simple weeknight dinner, but fun and tasty enough to serve to company. And you can call them stacks or piles, depending on how proper your company is.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong><u>Potato Stacks (Potato Piles)</u></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Ingredients</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 medium baking potato, peeled</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 -2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 Tablespoon olive oil</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Salt and pepper, to taste</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Summary</u></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">· </span></span>Peel potato into strips</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">· </span></span>Toss with herbs and olive oil</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">· </span></span>Season</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">· </span></span>Pile on baking sheet covered with parchment</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">· </span></span>Bake at 400 for 15-20 minutes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Detailed Instructions</u></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1. </span></span>Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2. </span></span>Using a vegetable peeler, remove potato in strips. Some strips will be very narrow (1/4” wide) and some will be much thicker (up to 1”). When it becomes difficult to get the strips off, either because of the position of the peeler, or because the strips are getting too wide, rotate the potato slightly, and begin on another section. As you go around, you’ll end up with something that looks like an elongated apple core. When you’re in danger of adding sliced finger to the mix, stop and discard the remaining potato. You’ll have about 3 cups of loosely packed potato strips.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3. </span></span>In a large bowl, toss the potato strips with olive oil. Add the thyme and toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper and toss again.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4. </span></span>Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil. Using tongs or your hands, make piles of potato strips about 5” across and an inch or so high. Scrape any remaining oil and herbs out of the bottom of the bowl, and distribute over piles. Scatter with a little additional salt and pepper.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5. </span></span>Bake for 15-20 minutes or until piles are golden brown. The edges will be crisped and the center will be cooked through.</span></div>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-58221368778364219502011-09-18T08:08:00.002-07:002012-08-20T19:53:53.105-07:00Desserts: Salted Caramel Cheesecake (Updated with A Note on Salt)<div style="text-align: center; clear: both;" class="separator" align="left"> </div><div style="text-align: center; clear: both;" class="separator"> </div><div style="text-align: center; clear: both;" class="separator"><a style="margin-right: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLJev9pf4CGhJhHow6XHajtmHZ1MCL6XcmU-6fF-QrVPgFCR615mwQqaBiBOeSEl8MRsmSZ9grK78QuYk_ca5em7WhK9WD16hPgWwh2QLujpEZnbDHvGeMOIxmPCUkbYEdJ41ww/s1600/cheesecake.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLJev9pf4CGhJhHow6XHajtmHZ1MCL6XcmU-6fF-QrVPgFCR615mwQqaBiBOeSEl8MRsmSZ9grK78QuYk_ca5em7WhK9WD16hPgWwh2QLujpEZnbDHvGeMOIxmPCUkbYEdJ41ww/s400/cheesecake.jpg" width="300" height="400" rba="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; clear: both;" class="separator"><br /></div><class="separator" align="left"><br />This post has gotten so much traffic via Pinerest that I have to comment further on those who say, "It's too salty." The idea is that it's a salty caramel dessert. But, everyone has a different level of salt tolerance. So, here's my suggestion--make the crust with just a little salt--a teaspoon or two. Then make the filling with just a teaspoon or two of salt. Then TASTE IT. People watch Food Network and see those people just scatter in some salt, take a small taste, and go, "Mmmm GOOD!" But that's just TV--they're supposed to say that so they don't spend precious air time adjusting the seasoning. You MUST TASTE as you go. Make the filling with everything but the eggs (raw eggs can be dangerous--I can't recommend eating anything with raw eggs in it) then TASTE it. The idea is that you taste some salt, but not that you go, "Ugh, salty." You're supposed to taste the contrast between sweet and salty. If you don't like things pretty salty, just leave the majority of the salt out and make a caramel cheesecake--caramel cheesecake is delicious too! If you taste it and it's not salty, and you want it salty, add a 1/2 teaspoon salt at a time until you get it to where you think it tastes OK. But I strongly recommend you taste as you go. </class="separator"><br /><div style="text-align: left; clear: both;" class="separator" align="left"> <br /> </div><div style="text-align: left; clear: both;" class="separator" align="left">N.B. It was brought to my attention that if this recipe is made with regular salt, it is WAY too salty. I always use kosher salt. Don't use table salt or this will be truly inedible. My apologies to anyone who may have tried it already without that caveat!</div><div style="text-align: left; clear: both;" class="separator"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:inherit;">Here it is at last. I’ve been trying to get a picture of a single slice of this for months. And you know what happens? That’s right—every time I’m ready to photograph it, I look for the slice I saved as my “model” and it’s gone. Someone has eaten my model. So you’re just going to have to content yourself with the picture of the whole cheesecake that I happen to have snapped once with my camera phone. It doesn’t really do it justice, but you get the idea (and yes, it’s also my profile picture).</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:inherit;">I made this for Thanksgiving in 2010. It was proclaimed, “The best dessert you’ve ever made.” Praise, indeed. Well, actually, considering all the desserts I’ve made in 15 years of marriage, plus probably 3 years of dating, that could be saying quite a bit. In the event, I was asked to make it again for Christmas. And again for Alex’s birthday. And again for our anniversary. And every time I made it, I would post about it on Facebook, and my friends would say how much they wanted a piece. Finally, in August of this year, I made a cheesecake, and invited all my friends over for a Friday night Happy Hour and Cheesecake Devouring Event. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:inherit;">I could have taken numerous pictures of my friends eating it, but when the dust settled, once again, I was left with no model. In fact, <em>I</em> didn’t even get a piece. So the next day, I made <em>another</em> Salted Caramel Cheesecake. I took it to a birthday party for a friend, where once again it was completely consumed, and while I didn’t have anything left to take a picture of, at least I got a slice of it this time.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:inherit;">So, rather than make you wait until November for this recipe, when I might actually be able to get a decent picture of it, I’m giving it to you now and <em>you </em>can make it for Thanksgiving and Christmas and your husband’s birthday and your anniversary. I hope it’s the best dessert you’ll ever make.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:inherit;"><strong><u>Salted Caramel Cheesecake</u></strong></span><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">Serves 2</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">Ha ha! Just kidding—I’ve served up to 20 people with one cheesecake. Ideally it probably serves about 10-12 people.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><u>For the crust</u></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">About 15 graham crackers</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">3 tablespoons granulated sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 stick unsalted butter, melted</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt (note: I reduced this from 2 teaspoons. A number of folks in the comments said they found it was too salty. I made this recipe 4 times before posting this, and checked the measurements pretty carefully, I thought. However, I made it for Thanksgiving 2011 and realized that they WAY the crust is distributed in the pan can make it seem quite salty--if there's a significant slope between the bottom and the sides, that fairly dense piece of crust can be overpowering to the rest of the recipe. So I'm recommending the reduction to the salt to account for the possible variations in the way people make the crust.)</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span> </span></span></span>Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In a food processor, grind graham crackers to crumbs. (If you’re using premade crumbs, you want about 8 oz or 2 cups, and you’ll want to do all these steps in a bowl.) Add sugar and salt and pulse to combine. With motor running, add butter through feed tube. Process for another few seconds until combined.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span> </span></span></span>Transfer the mixture to a 9” or 10” (I have a 10” myself) springform pan sprayed with cooking spray. Pat crumb mixture into the bottom of the pan, and up the sides about 2”. Don’t worry if it’s not perfectly even around the top; you just want to be sure it’s deep enough to hold all the cheesecake mixture.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span> </span></span></span>Bake crust until slightly brown. You’ll just be able to smell it. This will take anywhere from 10-12 minutes. Remove crust from the oven and allow to cool on a rack. Reduce oven temperature to 300 degrees F.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><u>For the cheesecake</u></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">3 8oz packages cream cheese, at room temperature</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 13-14 oz. can dulce de leche</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">2 tablespoons all purpose flour</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">3 teaspoons kosher salt</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 ¼ cup granulated sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 tablespoon vanilla extract</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">4 large eggs, at room temperature</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span> </span></span></span>In a stand mixture fitted with the paddle attachment beat cream cheese until smooth, add dulce de leche and beat to combine. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span> </span></span></span>Add flour and salt, beat to combine, stopping to scrape down the sides as necessary. Beat until smooth and fluffy, about 5 minutes. There should be no lumps. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span> </span></span></span>Add the sugar and beat to combine. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span> </span></span></span>Add the vanilla, and then beat in the eggs one at a time until just combined, about 30 seconds each. Don’t overbeat once the eggs are added; the cheesecake will puff up too much while baking, and the top will crack.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span> </span></span></span>Pour the cream cheese mixture into the cooled crust and smooth the top.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span> </span></span></span>Bake at 300 degrees F for 55 – 65 minutes. The center will seem to be only slightly set, and will be wobbly if you nudge it. The sides will puff slightly. </span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">7.<span> </span></span></span>Cool completely on a rack, then cover and refrigerate 8 hours or overnight (I have gotten away with a 5 hour cooling, but I was on edge that it wouldn’t turn out; overnight is really best). When I put it in the refrigerator to set up, I remove the ring from my springform, and put the cheesecake on a cake stand. You can leave it in the springform if you don't have a cake stand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><u>For the caramel</u></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">½ cup granulated sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">3 tablespoons water</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">½ cup heavy cream</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">2 tablespoons butter</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 teaspoon kosher salt</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;">1 teaspoon vanilla extract</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><br /></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span> </span></span></span>In a large saucepan over medium heat, combine the sugar and water. Swirl to combine. All those warnings about stirring caramel and brushing down the sides of the pan with a wet pastry brush to avoid crystal formation? I avoid all that by just never stirring it at all. If I need to move it around the pan, I just swirl it.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span> </span></span></span>Continue cooking until the sugar turns golden brown, swirling occasionally. You’re looking for something that’s about the color of dark honey. The problem with caramel is that it goes from perfect to burnt in the blink of an eye, so just when you find yourself thinking, “Any second now…” pull it off the heat. It should take 3-5 minutes.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span> </span></span></span>Off the heat, carefully add the butter, then the cream. Don’t wait until the butter is melted; toss in the butter, give it a whisk, then pour in the cream. It will foam up, seize, and otherwise look like a total failure. Persevere! Add the vanilla extract and salt and continue whisking.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span> </span></span></span>Return to medium low heat and whisk until smooth. (Added note: if your caramel is too thin, let it cook for awhile over a low heat. I've actually let it boil a bit--unintentionally--and just when I thought I'd ruined it, it turned out to be perfect.) Allow to cool slightly, about 15 minutes.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span> </span></span></span>Remove cheesecake from the refrigerator and pour caramel over the top. I try to encourage mine to pool in the middle, but if you’re more of a drip-down-the-sides type, you can go with that. I just think the drippy makes sort of a mess on my cake stand, but maybe that doesn’t bother you.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in; mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3;" class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><span style="font-family:inherit;"><span style="font-family:Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">6.<span> </span></span></span>Return the cheesecake to the refrigerator to let the caramel set, about 30 minutes. To serve, cut in slices (it’s pretty rich) with a sharp knife, wiping the blade clean after every slice.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: left; clear: both;" class="separator"><span style="font-family:inherit;"></span></div><br />TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com183tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-32765763991474579362011-08-29T10:57:00.000-07:002011-08-29T10:57:48.685-07:00Appetizers: Rosemary Honey Hazelnut Crackers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITFkXqzbVwdEGlHb3gviFfmJSY8BHysLf3yX4pojiuFRxE1SJCyWK4xZlFLGf8e8JpoQi1AfJCol_AvD2pYp_EO2eYppYAuNUhUOwnLBrahykFt7y8x9hkqUwpRHRzcYgAsmUwg/s1600/rosemary_honey_hazelnut_crackers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITFkXqzbVwdEGlHb3gviFfmJSY8BHysLf3yX4pojiuFRxE1SJCyWK4xZlFLGf8e8JpoQi1AfJCol_AvD2pYp_EO2eYppYAuNUhUOwnLBrahykFt7y8x9hkqUwpRHRzcYgAsmUwg/s400/rosemary_honey_hazelnut_crackers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My local grocery stores used to carry crackers that were specifically flavored to go with certain types of cheeses. At this point the only one I can recall is that the celery-flavored crackers went with blue cheese. The amazing thing was, they really <em>did </em>complement the cheeses they were supposed to accompany. Often in the food world, you hear about things that are supposed to go together, and really, it's just a vile combination. The one that springs most readily to mind is chocolate and red wine. I'm not sure if this is the chocolate lobby, or the red wine growers association, or an evil alliance between the two, but it needs to stop because red wine with chocolate is just gross.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So like many good things in life these crackers seem to have vanished (and it's always the good things, with Exhibit A being Stouffer's vegetarian lasagna, and Exhibit B being Stouffer's broccoli in cheese sauce you could boil in the bag--clearly Stouffer's has let me down over the years, although in this case the crackers were not, to the best of my knowledge, made by Stouffer's). But something got me started thinking about those crackers, and I know crackers are a cinch to make, so why not make my own? And then I started thinking even more (your suspicions are confirmed--I admit I spend about 45 minutes out of any given hour thinking about food and food-related topics), and realized what fun I could have with cracker flavors. So I started with one that was inspired by another cracker I saw at the grocery store: rosemary raisin pecan. I swapped out the raisins and used honey for sweetness instead, and went with hazelnuts instead of pecans, because I like hazelnuts better than pecans.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I let my husband have one, and was accused of being "subtle." This rather surprised me, because I'm almost never accused of subtlety. He didn't think the flavors were super assertive, but that's the point. They're not supposed to clobber you over the head. And I think if you taste them carefully, you can in fact taste every flavor. However, if you want them stronger, add more rosemary, honey, and hazelnuts (keeping in mind that they're not intended to be a particularly sweet cracker in my execution, and if you add much more honey, you may need to add more flour--I haven't tested this).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On a technical note, it's best to try to cut all these crackers the same size, so they cook evenly. They may be a bit on the soft side when they come out of the oven, but they'll crisp up as they sit. And don't worry about appearances--they're intended to look rustic. Rustic, of course, is what we say when we mean "homemade and unprofessional." Rustic just sounds more deliberate.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next I'm thinking of trying something like a Thai flavored cracker, with red curry paste, peanuts (or maybe peanut butter?) coconut milk and possibly curry or ginger or maybe even lemongrass. I also think if the basic dough were made with basil that they'd be an excellent thing to serve with tomato soup. I have a long list of things to try. I might even try to recreate the ones that went so well with blue cheese.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u><strong>Rosemary Honey Hazelnut Crackers</strong></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Ingredients</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 cup + 2 tablespoons all purpose flour</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
2 tablespoons butter</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/4 cup water</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 tablespoon chopped rosemary</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2 tablespoons chopped hazelnuts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2 tablespoons honey</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Summary</u></div><ul><li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In a food processor, combine flour, salt and rosemary, and pulse to combine</div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Add nuts and butter cut in 8 pieces and pulse 5-6 times</div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Add honey and pulse, then add water and pulse again</div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If dough is sticky, add 1-2 tablespoons of the additional 2 tablespoons of flour</div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Roll out 1/4" thick on a lightly floured board</div></li>
<li><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cut and bake at 400 degrees for 12-15 minutes or until lightly browned</div></li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Detailed Instructions</u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the workbowl of a food processor, combine 1 cup of flour, salt and the chopped rosemary. Pulse a couple of times to combine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Cut the butter into 8 pieces and add it, along with the nuts, to the flour mixture. Pulse a few times to combine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Add the honey, and then the water, and pulse a few more times to make a dough. Feel the dough, and if it feels quite sticky, add an additional tablespoon of flour, pulse, and check again. You may need the second tablespoon of flour as well. If so, add it and pulse a few times to combine.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured board or counter. Roll out with a rolling pin to 1/4" thickness. Using a knife or a cutter, cut to desired shape. I make little rectangles, but you could certainly stamp out circles or something decorative. You can't overwork this dough, so don't worry about that. You can reroll the scraps as often as you want.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Transfer the cut out dough to a cookie sheet lined with a Silpat or parchment paper. Bake for 12-15 minutes, or until lightly browned. Remove to a rack and allow to cool slightly. You can serve them warm, or let them cool completely and put them in a tin to keep at room temperature. They keep well for several days, and if they're a bit soft when they're warm, they'll crisp up quite a bit over time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Makes about 2 dozen crackers, depending on what shape you cut them.</div>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-12911822690813016532011-08-23T09:43:00.000-07:002011-08-23T09:44:21.741-07:00Desserts: Chocolate Caramel Tart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsVJqezP0rhFAo1guzpdXWJS23_6fVs8AEDajIGA32whLJeIZUJAQZG92llIU9wRqkIVtp5RktSPjXPhzroBnYp5xvfvv4spTX5z2EbKk5BKSHb4A_RMeoQ-mV6HOSbNEdbWxYg/s1600/caramel_chocolate_tart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsVJqezP0rhFAo1guzpdXWJS23_6fVs8AEDajIGA32whLJeIZUJAQZG92llIU9wRqkIVtp5RktSPjXPhzroBnYp5xvfvv4spTX5z2EbKk5BKSHb4A_RMeoQ-mV6HOSbNEdbWxYg/s400/caramel_chocolate_tart.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<u><strong><span style="font-family: inherit;">Caramel Chocolate Tart</span></strong></u><br />
<u><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ingredients</span></u><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For the crust:</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter, softened</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">½ cup + 1 tablespoon powdered sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">¼ cup cocoa powder (I use Hershey’s Special Dark)</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 egg yolk</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">¾ teaspoon vanilla extract</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">1 ¼ cups flour</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the caramel:</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2 cups granulated sugar</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">¼ cup corn syrup</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">8 tablespoons (1 stick) butter</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">½ cup cream</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2 tablespoons crème fraiche</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the Chocolate Glaze:</span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3 ½ ounces bittersweet chocolate</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">½ cup cream</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Summary</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
Crust<br />
· Cream together butter, sugar, and cocoa in a bowl<br />
· Mix in egg yolk and vanilla<br />
· Sift over flour and mix in<br />
· Wrap dough in plastic and chill 30 minutes to an hour<br />
· Preheat oven to 350 degrees<br />
· Roll out dough and transfer to tart pan<br />
· Blind bake crust for 15 minutes, remove weights and liner and continue cooking for 10-15 minutes<br />
· Remove crust from oven and allow to cool<br />
<br />
Filling<br />
· Combine sugar and corn syrup in a large saucepan<br />
· Cook over medium heat until golden brown<br />
· Off the heat, add in butter, cream, and crème fraiche<br />
· Once butter is melted, pour into cooled crust<br />
· Allow to set up for 30 minutes (refrigerate if possible)<br />
<br />
Glaze<br />
· Heat cream over medium heat<br />
· Pour over chocolate and whisk until smooth<br />
· Pour over tart and tilt pan to distribute evenly over caramel<br />
· Let set 1 hour (refrigerate if possible)<br />
<br />
<u>Detailed Instructions</u><br />
<br />
Crust<br />
In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or on a large bowl with a hand mixer, cream together butter, sugar, and cocoa powder. Add the egg yolk and vanilla, and beat in. Sift in flour and mix to combine. Turn dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap, pat into a circle, and wrap. Refrigerate for 30 minutes to an hour.<br />
<br />
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9” or 10” tart pan with a removable bottom. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to a 10-11” circle (depending on the size of your pan). Transfer the dough to the tart pan (the easiest way to do this is to set your rolling pin at one end of your dough, then roll the dough up on the pin, just as though you were rerolling an unrolled length of paper towel. Position the “loaded” rolling pin over the tart pan at the edge, then unroll the dough and drape it over the pan. Press the dough gently into the pan, letting the excess hang over the side. When the dough is fitted in, roll the pin over the top of the pan and let the edge of the pan “cut” the dough. If there are places that are in any way uneven—the dough tears before you can pat it into the pan, etc—just use some of the scraps to “patch” those places). Gently line the dough with parchment paper or aluminum foil, and fill with either ceramic pie weights or dried rice or beans, and bake for 15 minutes. Remove the filling, return to the oven, and bake for 10-15 minutes more. It’s hard to tell with a chocolate crust when it’s truly brown, but when you start to smell that chocolaty smell, it’s time to take it out.<br />
<br />
Remove from the oven and allow to cool, about 20-30 minutes. This is about how long it will take to make the filling.<br />
<br />
Filling<br />
In a large saucepan, combine the sugar and corn syrup. Bring sugar mixture to a boil over medium heat, swirling the pan occasionally. This will look strange at first, until the sugar starts to melt, but it will eventually all be liquid. Keep cooking until the sugar mixture is the color of dark honey. Watch it carefully—sugar goes from perfect to burnt in a twinkling. Just when you think, “Maybe ten more seconds…” pull it off. Off the heat, carefully add the butter and cream (mixture will foam up), then the crème fraiche (don’t wait for the butter to melt, just add it and stir to combine and melt the butter). Once the butter is melted, pour into the tart shell and let set, at least 30 minutes. If you can refrigerate it, this will help.<br />
<br />
Glaze<br />
Place the chocolate in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan over medium heat, bring the cream to a boil. Pour the cream over the chocolate and whisk until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Pour glaze over set caramel, tip pan to distribute chocolate evenly, and let glaze set, 1 hour. Again, refrigeration is helpful here.<br />
<br />
Serve in slivers, each scattered with a few grains of fleur de sel. Makes 10-12 servings.<br />
<br />
<u>Thoughts</u><br />
<br />
Have you ever had the feeling that certain aspects of your life were jinxed? I've often heard people say they have "bad luck" with this or that. They go through three DVD players in two years, or they keep buying travel mugs that keep breaking, or every time they have the battery changed in a watch, it dies within two months. You know what I mean.<br />
<br />
When I decided to make this tart, I had one of those moments when I was convinced I was just cursed. Rather than use my stand mixer to make this, I decided to use a hand mixer. I was feeling lazy, and the clean up would be easier, I reasoned. Years ago we bought (or were given, I sort of forget now) a hand mixer. It was just your basic hand mixer, nothing remarkable. Then one day, about three years ago, the beaters vanished. I mean they disappeared into thin air. One day I used them for something, and ran them through the dishwasher, and the next time I went to look for them, they were gone. My kids were too little to have put them in a weird place, we hadn't had any houseguests (often after we have guests, I discover things in odd places--well, odd to us, obviously not odd to them), and my husband didn't know where they were either.<br />
<br />
We looked everywhere those things could be, and in three years they have yet to materialize. Every so often (usually when I had the bright idea to use the hand mixer) we'd say, "Really, we should just buy a replacement set--this is silly!" but it was never a priority except in the 10 or so minutes around the time during which I wanted to use the mixer. Then it was gone from my mind until the next time I wanted to use it.<br />
<br />
Flash forward to maybe a month ago, when my grandmother was moving out of her condo and getting rid of things she no longer used on a regular basis. I asked if I could have her hand mixer, and she gave it to me. I wanted it for two reasons: first, it was a 1950-something Westinghouse (my grandparents always bought either Westinghouse or GE appliances--my grandfather worked on the Westinghouse and GE accounts when he was in advertising in the 1950s and 60s, and he was a firm believer that if you were going to tell other people to buy the products, you should use them yourself) and after 50+ years it was still going strong, and second, it had beaters.<br />
<br />
So, to make a long story short (too late), I now have a mixer with two beaters, and this great tart recipe to make. I get out the ingredients. I get out a bowl. I get out the mixer. I get out the...wait, where are the beaters? Where are the beaters? You're never going to believe this. I couldn't believe this. I could not find those beaters for love or money. I looked everywhere. I could only stand there in bewilderment, and assume that when it came to mixers (or, more accurately, beaters for mixers), I was simply doomed. Going forward I would be one of those people who says, "I have terrible luck with..." and would finish that sentence with, "hand mixer attachments." I was completely floored. I checked every drawer, every cabinet. Could. Not. Find. Argh!<br />
<br />
Finally, after doing what anyone in this day and age does when something utterly maddening happens (which is to say, I posted about it on Facebook), I looked one more time. And I did find them. Not in any bizarre or unreasonable place. Just toward the back of a drawer. Now I've put them in the drawer with the whisks (which I think makes sense, since that's essentially their function). We'll see how that goes.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, this tart is amazing. I've made it twice now, and the first time it was a bit overly gooey (but really, overly gooey caramel--so what?) and the second time the consistency was perfect, but I decided that the chocolate glaze constitutes lily gilding, and I'd skip it next time. In fact, I think it would be better without the glaze, but with some chocolate whipped cream (cream with a couple of tablespoons of cocoa powder and some powdered sugar beaten into it, then whipped). <br />
<br />
Lately my recipes have been my own. I shamelessly admit that I got this directly out of Amanda Hesser's new New York Times Cookbook (and she got it from the pastry chef at Gramercy Tavern who developed it in the first place). I wrote up the detailed instructions from my own execution. It's very rich, so a little goes a long way, but this is truly an amazing dessert. Assuming you can find the attachments to your mixer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-44933784741113819532011-08-10T09:10:00.000-07:002011-08-13T14:04:50.753-07:00Side Dish: Fennel Cabbage Slaw<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H614H2vg9ikl6NEYmjSKPnu_WB9SefiWOx8wHNjNlk5jyeZbWK_XnAtVZvS1kkYfnnc3Jl95Epy56ie9nFQZHmH0kvYTEA0R74u28Vywx37cTI01DI_C8kz5FQ0lEYjWZe54ww/s1600/coleslaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="270" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1H614H2vg9ikl6NEYmjSKPnu_WB9SefiWOx8wHNjNlk5jyeZbWK_XnAtVZvS1kkYfnnc3Jl95Epy56ie9nFQZHmH0kvYTEA0R74u28Vywx37cTI01DI_C8kz5FQ0lEYjWZe54ww/s400/coleslaw.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong>Fennel Cabbage Slaw</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><u>Ingredients</u></strong></div>½ head of green cabbage, shredded (4-6 cups)<br />
1 medium fennel bulb, shredded (about 2 cups)<br />
1 large carrot, grated<br />
Dressing<br />
1 ½ cups mayonnaise<br />
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar<br />
¼ cup apple juice<br />
2 teaspons fennel seed, toasted and ground<br />
Salt and pepper to taste<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Summary</u></strong><br />
• Combine vegetables<br />
• Combine dressing ingredients<br />
• Toss dressing with cabbage mixture<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Detailed Instructions</u></strong><br />
In a large bowl, combine the cabbage, fennel and carrot. In a smaller bowl, combine the dressing ingredients. Toss the dressing with the cabbage mixture. You can refrigerate this for a couple of hours before serving. If so, give it a good stir when you take it out of the refrigerator to redistribute the dressing.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Thoughts</u></strong><br />
Fennel is one of those vegetables that can be intimidating. Which part do you eat? Do you cook it or eat it raw? It’s not unlike a carrot, in that you’re supposed to lop off the fronds and eat the bottom, but unlike a carrot, it’s not a vegetable that we’ve been watching cartoon rabbits gnaw on since we were little tykes.<br />
<br />
I happen to love fennel, both raw and cooked. It’s a great winter vegetable when you get tired of the usual suspects (broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower). In the summer, it’s great raw, with the sort of cool refreshing flavor you get with cucumbers. In fact, I add it to my cole slaw every chance I get because I think it’s a nice flavor twist with the usual cabbage. Unlike cucumber, it’s not watery, so it doesn’t weep uncontrollably into the dressing and make it nasty. (Caveat: since all vegetables have a high water content, the dressing will eventually get nasty, but not in 30 minutes or an hour, the way it would if cucumbers were involved.)<br />
<br />
So this recipe has a double shot of fennel, with the toasted ground fennel seed and the raw fennel. The toasted fennel seed gives the dressing another dimension—it’s not just mayonnaise cut with vinegar, as so many slaw dressings are. Also, sugar in slaw dressing makes it gritty to my taste. A little is needed to balance the vinegar, but the grit is off-putting. Since I was using apple cider vinegar in this, I decided to use the juice to sweeten it. I have four kids, so there’s always a gallon of apple juice lurking around in my refrigerator. <br />
<br />
Fennel is one of those vegetables that will eventually oxidize and turn colors that we normally associate with a bad bruise. It takes a little longer, so you can safely make this the day before you serve it, but in my experience within two days it’s looking a bit suspect, and within three it has a distinctly sad appearance. It’s still fine to eat, and tastes OK, but after the second day I do take the time to cut the little darkened bits off the fennel when I eat the slaw. It seems to mostly change at the corners and tips, so they’re easily removed and pushed aside. However, you might want to take that under advisement in your planning.<br />
<strong><br />
</strong>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-77903919516158026072011-07-27T08:50:00.000-07:002011-08-10T09:11:37.028-07:00Side Dishes: French Fries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgks_lnptqAwYeDbxjJvBA2SHTh6KsmCxkdkIYa9qBx0Uh8QNkOZ9swNAXrGwGFZLY_yzFxlWs8dqcHPkOy_MouG51G3wS6hIG9VVGBGN_FJ0wcFYcXdzB3bwE-LaV78yq0rOAzAA/s1600/fries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgks_lnptqAwYeDbxjJvBA2SHTh6KsmCxkdkIYa9qBx0Uh8QNkOZ9swNAXrGwGFZLY_yzFxlWs8dqcHPkOy_MouG51G3wS6hIG9VVGBGN_FJ0wcFYcXdzB3bwE-LaV78yq0rOAzAA/s400/fries.jpg" t$="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong>French Fries</strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><strong><u>Ingredients</u></strong></div>2-3 medium baking potatoes, peeled and cut to desired “fry” size<br />
Canola or vegetable oil to cover<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Summary</u></strong><br />
<ul><li>Arrange potatoes in a large skillet, cover with cold oil</li>
<li>Turn heat to medium, turning fries after 15 minutes</li>
<li>Drain on paper towel, add salt to taste</li>
</ul><strong><u>Detailed Instructions</u></strong><br />
Using a pan large enough to hold the potatoes in no more than two layers, scatter the fries, making sure to separate them as much as possible. Any two fries that are right next to each other may stick together. It’s not possible to get every single one separate, but arranging them so that most of the fries are perpendicular to one another, versus side by side, is preferred.<br />
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Add enough canola or vegetable oil to just cover the fries. Turn the heat on to medium, and bring to a rapid simmer. You probably won’t have to adjust the heat much, but keep an eye on it. You don’t want it to boil over.<br />
<br />
In the first 15 minutes, don’t stir the fries. After 15 minutes you can move them around gently. After about 20 minutes, use tongs to move them around and flip them over so you can see the undersides. When they start to turn golden, they’re close to done. You’ll end up with a few that get a little more brown than golden. Once they’re done, remove from the hot oil with tongs and drain on paper towel. Salt to taste.<br />
<br />
This makes enough fries for 4 people.<br />
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<strong><u>Thoughts</u></strong> <br />
Dinner at my house on Thursday night is the same thing every week in every season. We have hamburgers and French fries (the exception being the fourth Thursday in November, of course). By the end of a long week I’m ready for a meal that I can prep in 12 minutes, let cook largely unattended, and serve <em>without having to listen to any whining</em>. Everyone likes it, I get no groans of protest when I announce what’s for dinner, no one saying, “Why can’t we have x <em>instead</em>?” <br />
<br />
I read about these fries in several places and they really are as easy as they sound. There are a couple of small caveats, but nothing too daunting. I use a 12” nonstick skillet. I’ve used a 12” chefs pan (with straight sides, as opposed to the sloping sides of a skillet) that was not nonstick. I recommend the nonstick because it does make it easier to get the fries out. If you use a regular pan, you’ll have to pry a few off the bottom of the pan, which is a bit tricky when what you’re doing is attempting to dislodge something that’s under an inch or two of boiling hot oil. I’m not saying it can’t be done—it can—but be very, very careful and be prepared to still do some scrubbing once you’ve removed the oil.<br />
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A word on the oil—I use canola. I buy a big jug of it at Costco. You can reuse the oil 2-3 times before it starts to break down. We just pour it back into an old oil jug and keep it on hand. When it’s time to dispose of it, we usually line a trash bag with lots of newsprint and pour the oil on that. The newsprint absorbs the oil, and goes out with the garbage. The plastic jug gets recycled.<br />
<br />
The primary trick to these fries is not to stir them until they’re mostly done. I made them once with great success, then made them subsequent times and couldn’t understand why I was ending up with piles of fried potato bits. Then I realized I was trying too hard to keep them from sticking, and kept stirring them every few minutes. Don’t do it. Wait 15 minutes, then you can move them around. I use tongs to flip them over because the ones on the bottom get a bit more brown than those on the top. Turning them over and rearranging them gives them a more uniform appearance.<br />
<br />
We’ve been making these for so long that I actually have a commercial French fry cutter. It can be mounted on the wall (I’m not quite to that stage yet) and the potato rests in a sort of trough that has a grid cutter at one end. There’s a plunger or pushing mechanism with a handle on it. As you lower the handle, the potato gets pushed up to and through the grid cutter, making perfect ¼” square fries. Before I owned it, I had one of those round apple slicers that switched out the apple sectioning insert for one that had a ¼” fry cutter. The fry insert never stayed in very well, and I often had to trim my potatoes so that the cutter would fit over them. After months and months of Thursday night hamburgers and fries, we bought the more efficient commercial one from Amazon. The price was surprisingly reasonable. <br />
<br />
I’m not suggesting you rush out and buy a commercial French fry cutter (they are rather heavy and bulky to store, and they really do only do one job), but these fries are worth a try—they don’t make as big a mess as a “traditional” deep fry (admittedly they make some mess, but it’s not to the degree of the deep fry method), nor do they make your house smell like burning fat for two days. And I’ve never met anyone who whined about being served French fries.TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-91315293329877168042011-07-19T11:02:00.000-07:002011-07-19T11:02:36.649-07:00Appetizers: "Mascarpone" Torta<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjJLkSJ0W2ap42jQgcrcOrTwjo7_DPL8wI9B4fYKdhl6AOPNERihONh9Rd4h4FiQcYGdCKa5RwC6p-y0_bDNoGNIHyBOi6Td6v2mQYnrGT3rQc3bNUvdXW7dFC7ZBFejQALhzFg/s1600/mascarpone_torta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjJLkSJ0W2ap42jQgcrcOrTwjo7_DPL8wI9B4fYKdhl6AOPNERihONh9Rd4h4FiQcYGdCKa5RwC6p-y0_bDNoGNIHyBOi6Td6v2mQYnrGT3rQc3bNUvdXW7dFC7ZBFejQALhzFg/s400/mascarpone_torta.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<strong>"Mascarpone" Torta</strong><br />
<br />
½ lb butter at room temperature<br />
½ lb cream cheese at room temperature<br />
2-3 tablespoons prepared pesto <br />
2 tablespoons chopped walnuts <br />
French bread slices, to serve<br />
<br />
<u><strong>Summary</strong></u><br />
<ul><li>Process cream cheese and butter in a food processor until smooth</li>
<li>Spread half of cream cheese mixture into a mold lined with damp cheesecloth</li>
<li>Spread pesto over cream cheese mixture, scatter with walnuts</li>
<li>Spread remaining cream cheese mixture over pesto and walnuts</li>
<li>Chill to set, unmold, serve with bread, toasts or crackers</li>
</ul><strong><u>Detailed Instructions</u></strong><br />
In the work bowl of a food processor or stand mixer (or in a regular bowl with a handheld mixer), combine the butter and cream cheese. Whir it around until they’re completely combined and quite soft. In the food processor the mixture will appear almost liquid as it flows around. That’s fine—you’re going to chill it back up in a few minutes.<br />
<br />
Dampen and wring out a square of cheesecloth large enough to fit in your cake pan and fold over the top of the cheese. Drape the cloth over the pan and push it in a bit. Spoon about half of the cream cheese mixture into the pan and smooth it out. Carefully spread the pesto over the cheese. You want a nice layer of pesto, but it shouldn’t be thick. Just enough that each bite contains enough that the flavor comes through, and it’s obvious that it’s pesto. You want to leave as little border as possible—you don’t really want the pesto to show, but neither do you want the first few servings around the edge to be nothing but cream cheese mixture. Scatter the pesto with the chopped walnuts. Spoon the remaining cream cheese mixture over the pesto and walnut layer. This is where it gets a bit tricky, trying to smooth the cheese without disturbing the filling. Remember that what is the top right now will be the bottom, so any flubs won’t show when it’s turned out.<br />
<br />
Fold the extra cheesecloth up over the top, press down gently, and refrigerate 8 hours or overnight.<br />
<br />
When ready to unmold, unfold cheesecloth and position a platter over the cheese. Flip the platter and pan over and lift off the pan. If it should resist at all, tug gently on the edges of the cheesecloth to loosen the cheese from the bottom of the pan. Remove the cheesecloth. You can serve it at once, or let it sit at room temperature for a half hour or so to soften up.<br />
<br />
Slice French bread into rounds for spreading. Toast in a 350 degree oven until lightly crisped, if desired. I often just leave the bread plain. You can also serve this with water crackers.<br />
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<strong><u>Thoughts</u></strong> <br />
Originally this was to be a, "What do you DO with all that basil?!" post, a suggestion to make pesto, and then this recipe. And that may still be your problem if you live in most of the United States, but if you live where I live, you're wondering not what to do with all that basil. No, you're wondering if you're ever going to have any basil at all ever pretty much as long as you live. Then you sigh. Then you go buy a tub of pesto to make this recipe. Which, to be fair, is pretty great, no matter what the weather. <br />
<br />
This was something we used to make when I worked in catering. It serves a large number of people for a very low cost per person, and it can be made in a huge batch, so it’s not labor intensive. The hardest thing to do is slice (and toast, if desired) the bread. A food processor (or mixer) does all the work for the torta. It’s molded in a cake pan, so you can get fun with the shapes if you like. We used to make this in a heart shaped pan for weddings and decorate the platter with flowers. I have also used just a plain 9” round cake pan. I cut the usual recipe in half because it makes a simply enormous amount when you use the proportions we used in catering. It’s really enough for 30 or 40 people. This reduced version I made in 6” loaf pan and it was perfect for the 15-18 people I was entertaining. To serve the larger number, just double the butter and cream cheese, and increase the pesto and walnuts to get the same even coverage (you'll just about double them as well).<br />
<br />
The name of this recipe is in quotes because there’s actually no mascarpone in it. Perhaps at one time it was all mascarpone (if you're not familiar with it, it's a soft cheese that’s sort of half way between ricotta and cream cheese, often found in tiramisu), but by the time this recipe made its way to me, it was completely devoid of it. Just as well—it’s a little pricey to use in this volume. If you have recently won the lottery, or inherited a substantial fortune, you might try using all mascarpone, but if you’re like the rest of us peasants, the (relatively) inexpensive ingredients here will work just fine.TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-31862006269138650812011-07-10T08:17:00.000-07:002011-07-10T10:47:50.067-07:00Desserts: Strawberry Cream Cheese-Sour Cream Ice Cream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8UMN8WX11lScqxDHzY2DhpyLaBRheWeEp4pcc20e2SNi6_TvjvyZOAF_ZaWFv6hGdK4SpbKEkX8zrgkjC7NoUnDCp_WgXdzTBjtA-xFY9l7uPwNjllGV9koBnaVKBPa6AAvd8g/s1600/strawberry_ice_cream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8UMN8WX11lScqxDHzY2DhpyLaBRheWeEp4pcc20e2SNi6_TvjvyZOAF_ZaWFv6hGdK4SpbKEkX8zrgkjC7NoUnDCp_WgXdzTBjtA-xFY9l7uPwNjllGV9koBnaVKBPa6AAvd8g/s320/strawberry_ice_cream.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<strong>Strawberry Cream Cheese-Sour Cream Ice Cream</strong><br />
<br />
1 pound strawberries, hulled and sliced<br />
1 cup granulated sugar<br />
1- 8 ounce package cream cheese, room temperature<br />
½ cup half and half<br />
½ cup sour cream<br />
½ cup heavy cream<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla<br />
½ teaspoon salt<br />
1 ounce plain vodka<br />
<br />
<u><strong>Summary</strong></u><br />
• Cook strawberries down with sugar until syrupy and soft, and cool<br />
• Combine cream cheese, ½ & ½, sour cream, heavy cream, vanilla & salt in food processor until smooth<br />
• Combine cream cheese mixture with strawberry mixture in a bowl<br />
• Chill in an ice cream maker, adding vodka at the very end<br />
• Spoon into containers and freeze until firm<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Detailed Instructions</u></strong><br />
Combine strawberries and sugar in a small saucepan (I used a 2qt). Cook over medium high heat, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved. This will take about 5 minutes. The strawberries will end up swimming in a light syrup. At no point do you want the syrup to boil (you could end up with strawberries in caramel if you do, which probably wouldn’t be horrible, but I haven’t tested that); if you start to see lots of bubbles, turn the heat down slightly. Continue cooking, stirring occasionally, until the strawberries are soft, but not falling apart, another 3-5 minutes. Set aside and let cool until almost room temperature, about 10-25 minutes, while you make the cream cheese mixture. You don’t want it to be too warm when you add it to the ice cream maker, or it won’t set up properly.<br />
<br />
In a food processor, combine the cream cheese and ½ & ½ and pulse until smooth, scraping down the bowl as necessary. With the motor on, add the heavy cream, sour cream, vanilla, and salt and process until well combined and smooth. You’ll have a very thick liquid, kind of like melted ice cream.<br />
<br />
In a large bowl, combine the cream cheese mixture and the strawberry mixture. Stir well to combine. In an ice cream maker (I have the kind with a cylinder and a motor base) add the ice cream mixture to the cylinder and chill according to manufacturer’s instructions (mine calls for letting it run for about 15 minutes). Don’t worry if it’s not really ice creamy—it will firm up nicely in the freezer. In the last minute before you turn off the ice cream maker, add the vodka and let it blend through the ice cream.<br />
<br />
Spoon the chilled ice cream into containers (I just use disposable plastic ones) and chill in the freezer for 4-6 hours or until set to desired consistency. You can take it out and stir it from time to time (you have the opportunity to lick the spoon you use for this when you do it), and once it reaches the consistency that you like, you can serve it. Because of the vodka it won’t freeze solidly. The ice cream will keep for about two weeks in the refrigerator. Eventually it will start to form ice crystals and ice chunks. Eat it before that happens. I’m not worried about that, to be honest.<br />
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<strong><u>Thoughts</u></strong> <br />
This is not an ice cream in the classic sense. That is, it doesn’t start with a cooked custard base. That’s a plus for me—I don’t have the patience to wait for a custard to cool overnight in the refrigerator, which is why I seldom make ice cream. This recipe is largely attributable to my friend Julie Tiramisu (as I think of her—she has a real last name, but she also has a degree in Pastry, so I think of her as Julie Tiramisu). <br />
<br />
I first made this for Mother’s Day as a cream cheese-ice cream mixture. When I described it to Julie, she said, “I’d put some sour cream in it, but that’s what I do—I tweak recipes.” I said, “Me too,” and made a mental note. I jotted down some changes in my recipe book along the lines of switching out some of the ½ & ½ in the original recipe for sour cream and moved on.<br />
<br />
Then my neighbor gave me some strawberries from her patch, because they were just rotting on the vine, she said. While the first use for them that came to mind was strawberry daiquiris, the strawberry ice cream recipe seemed more family friendly, so I went with that. The berries weren’t terribly big, but they had big flavor, so I used them, making the changes I’d noted to the recipe when Julie T and I had talked.<br />
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There are only a few words appropriate to describe the result, and all of them should be followed with exclamation points. Wow! Incredible! Amazing! You get the idea. The sour cream makes the ice cream silky, while the cream cheese adds that lovely tang. You’d think that was the sour cream that added the flavor twist, but having had it made with and without, I can assure you it’s not the sour cream that adds the zing—that’s the cream cheese—while the sour cream changes the consistency. The sour cream makes it taste like liquid pink silk. If it were possible I’d have a dress made out of this stuff, it’s so beautiful. <br />
<br />
It’s nice to have it in the freezer for any time, but I did serve it as dessert on Mother’s Day with great success. Because homemade ice cream is somewhat out of the ordinary, it makes a nice “special occasion” dessert. When I took some over to the woman who gave me the strawberries in the first place, her whole family said, “You made it? You made ice cream?” People just don’t expect it, but it’s easy with an ice cream maker, and with a base like this, that doesn’t require overnight chilling, it’s right up my (impatient) alley.TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-61268926571186185532010-03-24T11:55:00.000-07:002010-03-27T11:06:05.414-07:00Quick!When you have children--any children, not necessarily a particular number of children--it can be very challenging to execute a reicpe.<br /><br />It goes something like this:<br /><br />Me: "Let's see...a quarter of a cup of flour..."<br /><br />Child 1: "Mama, can I have a cereal bar?"<br /><br />Me: "Wait, a cup of flour...and two teaspoons of baking powder..."<br /><br />Child 2: "Mommy, where's my DS?"<br /><br />Me: "No, two of soda, only one of powder..."<br /><br />Child 3: "Mama, can I have some juice?"<br /><br />Me : "And three quarters of a cup of..."<br /><br />Child 4: "Mama, is it my turn to choose [what gets watched on TV]?"<br /><br />Me: "Three quarters..."<br /><br />Child 1: "Mommy, no! It's my turn!"<br /><br />Me: "Three..."<br /><br />Child 3: "Mama, are we going to the pool?"<br /><br />Me: "Where's the white wine??"<br /><br />And that was at 10 a.m.<br /><br />So you can see that a recipe that contains a minimum number of ingredients, and spends most of it's time in a "hands off" state is practically a necessity. If what it delivers is also fun and tasty, well, bonus.<br /><br />The recipe for "flapjack" in the March Bon Appetit magazine is just such a recipe. Flapjack, it would seem, is a British specialty, a sort of chewy oat bar. I checked my British cookbooks (of which I have three) and found no mention of it. No matter, I made it anyway. Five ingredients, a few minutes on the stove, into a pan in the oven, and 20 minutes later, a lovely little snack. I made it the first time and it was so quick and easy I was able to make it again a couple of nights later to take as a treat for my friends on the ferry. We often have these little morning nibbles, usually when it's someone's birthday. I figured we'd celebrate Tuesday with flapjack.<br /><br />I made a couple of small changes and presented them to overwhelming approval. And so, because I also have a job, and need to get back to said job, I offer without further ado, my adapted recipe for flapjack.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUiH2SzZdIyXGBAKIFUYSK9QWdJ1IEWjKTRO0rusmlpJ41boJMGpZBo8kvOl2SgqA4yycLfCtOI2Own6V2YYGvdnsC_hTwpFKX-Fi5mMDvfc4rdnHWw36IVo-5lnFOKYF0qr-zg/s1600/flapjack.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452293725306833890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVUiH2SzZdIyXGBAKIFUYSK9QWdJ1IEWjKTRO0rusmlpJ41boJMGpZBo8kvOl2SgqA4yycLfCtOI2Own6V2YYGvdnsC_hTwpFKX-Fi5mMDvfc4rdnHWw36IVo-5lnFOKYF0qr-zg/s400/flapjack.bmp" /></a></p><p align="left">This was the last bit of it left--I had to snap a picture quickly before it disappeared. Which it did about 12 seconds later.</p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"><strong>Flapjack<br /></strong><em>adapted from Bon Appetit magazine<br /></em>makes 16 triangles<br /><br />1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces<br /></p>1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar <p></p><p align="left">1/4 cup Lyle's golden syrup (available at specialty stores and some grocery stores--it's with the maple syrup in mine)</p><p align="left">2 cups quick-cooking oats (not instant or old-fashioned--they say "Cooks in 1 Minute!" on the label)<br /></p><p align="left">1/3 cup hazelnut meal (finely ground hazelnuts--I use Bob's Red Mill brand; you could also use almond meal)<br /></p><p align="left">1/2 teaspoon cinnamon<br /></p><p align="left">¼ teaspoon salt</p><p align="left"><br />Preheat oven to 350 and spray an 8" square pan with cooking spray. Combine first three ingredients in a pan over medium heat. Heat stirring until butter is melted, sugar dissolves, and mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and add oats and hazelnut meal, cinnamon and salt. Stir until well combined. Pat oat mixture into the prepared pan.<br /><br />Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes, until outside edges are golden and crisp. Remove from oven and use a knife to loosen the mixture from the sides of the pan, and carefully cut it into four squares, and cut each square into four triangles. Do NOT attempt to remove the flapjack from the pan. It needs to cool completely in the pan. Once cool, it goes perfectly with tea.</p>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-39376791276497258382010-03-21T09:41:00.001-07:002010-03-21T09:48:19.658-07:00Here, There, and EverywhereHave you ever noticed that when you become aware of a thing, you suddenly see it everywhere? This happens to me a lot with magazine text. I’ll be minding my own business, and all of a sudden it will occur to me that I’ve seen a particular word or phrase recently, and here it is again, and suddenly <em>here it is everywhere</em>.<br /><br />The two that spring immediately to mind because they are current are “go-to” and “spot on.” Suddenly every food magazine I get is offering me a “go-to” recipe for this or that, and they’re all “spot on” in terms of flavor and deliciousness.<br /><br />This happens to me primarily with magazines because I am what could be not so nicely called a magazine whore. I have even been known to stoop to the Family Circle/Ladies Home Journal variety of magazine when all other sources fail me. And I have a good friend who is similarly whorish, and she and I take great pleasure in pointing out these repeated words and phrases to one another (via email, which is our primary…well, actually our only means of communication, since I now live 3,000 miles away from her). We even have a shorthand abbreviation for when one of us points out something to the other. The other person responds “TNIWBE,” which stands for “Thanks Now It Will Be Everywhere.” And sure enough, it’s inevitable.<br /><br />I remember it started with “bling.” I’d never heard the term before, but she remarked that it was ALL OVER and boy was it getting tiresome. I shrugged, but before my shoulders could drop back to their original position, I’d seen it four times (OK, I exaggerate, but <em>almost</em>). Since then we’ve pointed out such gems to one another as “spuds” (food magazines often substitute this word for potato in articles), “tresses” (you know, hair) and “kicks” (sneakers—my friend reads more health and exercise magazines than I do; I pretty much confine myself to food magazines, so I see the non-food ones from time to time, but the food ones are under my nose all the time).<br /><br />Now it’s starting to happen to me with recipes. I’ll see a recipe and think, “Oooo, that sounds good” and I’ll make it, and the next thing I know, every magazine I read has a recipe for that same thing. Or an article about food trends in the New York Times mentions it. Or I read some of my favorite bloggers, and they’re making the same thing. In fact, this happened with the recipe I have for you today. I saw it in one place, thought it looked interesting, and since I made it myself I’ve now seen it at least three other times, most recently in (surprise) an article in the New York Times.<br /><br />These are called Cat Head Biscuits. And they’re from that persnickety source that the <a href="http://themodernapron.blogspot.com/2010/02/bye-bye-chicken-pie.html">chicken pie </a>came from, so I will Not Mention Their Name, but as usual, I had to mess with their recipe. I also saw them in a cookbook I was perusing, and in an article about a Southern cook in the New York Times Magazine. They call them Cat Head because they’re as big as a cat’s head (in theory—I have cats and they’re really more the size of a kitten’s head, but we can overlook this).<br /><br /><em>Anyhoo</em>, the thing I like about them is that they’re a biscuit, but you don’t roll them out and cut them. You blop the dough into a cake tin or cast iron skillet and bake. I love biscuits, but I get tired of digging out my pastry board, flouring it, rolling them out, and cutting them. Plus you waste dough that way, because you can really only reroll the scraps once before you start to develop the gluten when you’re kneading it into a cohesive mass, and they start to get tough. These call for no rolling, hallelujah! Even if you think you’re one of those people who just can’t make biscuits, you can make these (I am one of those people who just can’t hard cook an egg, but that’s a story for another time).<br /><br />There’s also no fretting about keeping the butter super cold. In fact, it’s supposed to be slightly soft. However, I’ve also made them with butter that was effectively right out of the fridge, and they were fine. That’s another nice thing about this recipe—it’s flexible and forgiving.<br /><br />Alex and I disagreed on the amount of sugar needed in these. The recipe I saw called for none, but I really thought they needed some. The amount I added was too much for Alex, who declared them sweet enough to be a shortcake base. I said they’d need quite a bit more sugar to be suitable for that. So I’m offering you a range of sugar amount, in case you don’t like your biscuits on the sweet side and/or you want to use them for strawberry shortcake.<br /><br />So here are easy, tasty biscuits that could double as dessert component. You can use them as your go-to recipe, and they are spot on.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjIsk_f1WY9kVkXhE4LHdsX6lS0xI2uMcfvmWH9XC522xb4PgkdBLcIoNs4Oy5hvKcel5TllkjEHHnbTXZukpX8qQz2T_cYSr5R8pGNRreGpJ_yLwJ_dbWuko0tSqGg9gHsaO2g/s1600-h/cat+head+biscuits.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451128439932227170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjIsk_f1WY9kVkXhE4LHdsX6lS0xI2uMcfvmWH9XC522xb4PgkdBLcIoNs4Oy5hvKcel5TllkjEHHnbTXZukpX8qQz2T_cYSr5R8pGNRreGpJ_yLwJ_dbWuko0tSqGg9gHsaO2g/s400/cat+head+biscuits.JPG" /></a></p><br /><strong>Cat Head Biscuits<br /></strong><em>Makes 6 biscuits</em><br /><br />1 ½ cups all purpose flour<br />1 ½ cups cake flour<br />2 teaspoons baking powder<br />½ teaspoon baking soda<br />2 teaspoons salt (I use kosher salt; if you’re using table salt, err on the side of 1 teaspoon)<br />1-3 Tablespoons granulated sugar (I’d add up to a quarter cup if you want to use them for shortcake, but taste before you take that leap)<br />8 Tablespoons (1 stick) butter cut into ½” cubes, slightly softened (or not)<br />4 Tablespoons solid vegetable shortening, cut into ½” cubes<br />1 – 1 ¼ cup buttermilk<br /><br />Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Spray a 9” cake pan or cast iron skillet with cooking spray (the cast iron skillet would make a nice presentation if you were serving them directly from the pan). In a large bowl, combine flours, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt. Using your hands or a pastry blender, cut butter and shortening into the flour mixture until it resembles coarse crumbs. Add buttermilk and stir to combine. Begin with 1 cup, adding remaining quarter cup if the mixture is too dry. The consistency will be very pasty and thick, which is what you want. It will actually hold a mounded shape when you plunk it into the pan. If you use too much buttermilk, you’ll get more of a batter than a dough, and they won’t work the way they’re intended to.<br /><br />Using a half cup measure, or an ice cream scoop, or just a large spoon, create five distinct mounds around the perimeter of the pan. Place one mound in the center.<br /><br />Bake until golden, 20-25 minutes. Cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then transfer to a wire rack. While the biscuits are cooling in the pan, use a knife to score between them (this will make them easier to remove from the pan once they’re cool). Serve warm.TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-11448093983874616122010-02-28T08:26:00.000-08:002010-02-28T11:12:39.458-08:00Bye Bye, Chicken PieSometimes (my husband would say, often) I become obsessed with a recipe that doesn’t work, and I have to make it work, even if that means making the same thing four times and driving my family crazy discussing changes and additions. “NO,” he’ll say, calmly, “I REALLY DON’T THINK IT’S GOING TO MAKE THAT MUCH DIFFERENCE IF YOU USE SEEDLESS RASPBERRY JAM INSTEAD OF THE KIND WITH SEEDS. NOW CAN WE PLEASE CHANGE THE SUBJECT?!?”<br /><br />So is it a coincidence that my kids started saying, “Bye bye, chicken pie,” just about the same time I started my relationship with this recipe? Maybe.<br /><br />Let’s talk about the first time I made this pie. I saw the recipe in a magazine (and never mind which one, because it’s one that tends to be a bit persnickety about its reputation—which I have to suspect is largely self-assigned—for printing Perfected Recipes, and they seem to feel there’s no improving on them, which I have found to be Just Plain Wrong. But I digress.) and it just looked so wonderfully unhealthy I had to try it. This is not, you understand Chicken Pot Pie. There are no peas, no carrots, no onions, no potatoes. This is chicken in a creamy sauce in pie crust. That right there is three of my favorite things: pie crust, chicken, and cream sauce.<br /><br />I made it with the ingredients listed according to the instructions given. They referred you to a pie crust recipe two pages ahead, which made so much crust that I probably could have made one two-crust pie, and one single crust. It was wasteful. (Although I’m willing to accept some blame as far as the crust is concerned; it’s possible I rolled it too thin the first time.) The proportions they gave for the filling were so generous that I had to use a 10” deep dish pie crust to hold it all, which meant that the cooking time was more like an hour and a half. The thing spent so much time in the oven that the sauce broke. Even if it hadn’t broken, the original recipe called for lemon zest, which gave it a weird puckery flavor that I found off-putting.<br /><br />I wanted to love this pie, but it needed some adjustments.<br /><br />I walked through the original recipe.<br /><br />Chicken: Originally the instruction was to roast over two pounds of bone-in breasts. Not only do I not normally keep bone-in breasts on hand, that was way too much chicken. I cut it back to two breasts, and used boneless skinless, which I always have around.<br /><br />Aromatics: The one rib of celery and two cloves of garlic in the original recipe didn’t add enough flavor to the sauce. I increased the garlic and tossed in one medium chopped onion. Much better.<br /><br />Sauce: That lemon zest was the first thing to go. Then to up the creaminess, I added some heavy cream, and at the same time reduced the amount of chicken broth so that the sauce recipe made much less overall.<br /><br />Cheese: I had intended to reduce the amount of cheese the second time I made it, but actually ended up forgetting it altogether. Frankly, I didn’t miss it. I decided it was totally optional, and in the future I won’t be using it at all.<br /><br />The result was deemed good but “missing something.” I thought it was fine, but if my tasters wanted a little added layer of flavor, I was happy to oblige (since it meant I got to make the pie yet again and I’d developed a deep affection for this pie reheated for breakfast. I actually don’t recommend this, because pie crust doesn’t take kindly to being microwaved, but if you do have pie leftover and you’re willing to put up with slightly tough crust, it makes a lovely breakfast).<br /><br />The third time I made it, I simmered ¾ cup of heavy cream with rosemary, sage, and thyme. Bingo.<br /><br /><br /><div>The result is a crisp flaky crust with a heavenly creamy sauce full of shredded chicken. The cheese doesn’t add much; I barely notice it. In fact, when it cooks during baking, it makes the sauce a little watery. It thickens up as it cools, but the first piece was a little looser than I prefer.<br /><br />I think this would make an outstanding brunch dish. I myself loathe quiche. It’s always watery and the crust is soggy. This is a fabulous substitute with the same sort of ingredients profile: crust, creamy filling, some protein to get everyone going. And it’s different; not the same old thing.<br /><br />And so, we bring to a close my chicken pie obsession. I know my family will be grateful (or maybe not, since this means we move on to something else). Bye bye, chicken pie. </div><div><br /></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRu_MpeeyMIPnlWzFIFTuDid2IXZqkTKNeOK_HkPtG5TY5mN3tflQfs3t4f2XB_oW-vaGbSusaWk0HLnPkvEZ5WyHtg41-utUj68yBwExolcQXfeunMdeEt4Ise_AEPQEDUVOXqA/s1600-h/chicken+pie.JPG"></a></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRu_MpeeyMIPnlWzFIFTuDid2IXZqkTKNeOK_HkPtG5TY5mN3tflQfs3t4f2XB_oW-vaGbSusaWk0HLnPkvEZ5WyHtg41-utUj68yBwExolcQXfeunMdeEt4Ise_AEPQEDUVOXqA/s1600-h/chicken+pie.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 259px; HEIGHT: 297px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443332900287322738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRu_MpeeyMIPnlWzFIFTuDid2IXZqkTKNeOK_HkPtG5TY5mN3tflQfs3t4f2XB_oW-vaGbSusaWk0HLnPkvEZ5WyHtg41-utUj68yBwExolcQXfeunMdeEt4Ise_AEPQEDUVOXqA/s400/chicken+pie.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhubpvlVzhETDjWymtHv82vrBY9hZT-ZG1PqnkpQJ78q8VhKCyR3p-A1cke5u-FdetjiK6qgtag9TEOXKrOizP8zi3egfMtVifMgKx2Tj2TyqFX-1T9Q_h1-44Dql0mDLFQUXYQ/s1600-h/chicken+pie+2.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 262px; HEIGHT: 296px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443332906511103346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhubpvlVzhETDjWymtHv82vrBY9hZT-ZG1PqnkpQJ78q8VhKCyR3p-A1cke5u-FdetjiK6qgtag9TEOXKrOizP8zi3egfMtVifMgKx2Tj2TyqFX-1T9Q_h1-44Dql0mDLFQUXYQ/s400/chicken+pie+2.JPG" /></a></p><div><br /></div><strong></strong><div><strong>Chicken Pie</strong><br /><em>Makes 1 9” pie<br /></em><br />Crust<br />12 ounces flour (about 2 ¼ cup; use weight if at all possible, it’s much more reliable)<br />8 ounces (one stick) butter<br />2-4 ounces of ice water<br />¼ teaspoon salt<br /><br />In a food processor, combine butter, flour and salt and pulse 10-12 times until butter is in quite small pieces. With the motor running, add the ice water until the dough just comes together. Divide dough between two sheets of plastic wrap and wrap tightly. Refrigerate for 15 minutes or so, up to overnight.<br /><br />Chicken Filling<br />2 boneless skinless chicken breasts<br />8 ounces (1 stick) butter<br />1 rib celery, chopped<br />1 medium onion, chopped<br />3 cloves garlic, chopped<br />1/3 cup all purpose flour<br />1 12 ounce can evaporated milk<br />½ cup chicken broth<br />¾ cup heavy cream<br />1 spring rosemary<br />2-3 sage leaves<br />2 thyme sprigs<br />Salt and pepper, to taste<br />1 bunch scallions, chopped (green parts only)<br />½ cup shredded cheddar cheese (optional)<br />1 egg + 2 teaspoons water, beaten<br /><br />Preheat oven to 375. Season chicken breasts with salt and pepper, and roast for about 25 minutes, or until done. Allow to cool, then shred into 2” pieces (shredded chicken really does taste different from cubed chicken, for some reason; I hate shredding chicken—it gets under my nails and it takes forever—but it’s totally worth the improved taste).<br /><br />In a small saucepan, combine heavy cream and herbs over medium-low heat. Allow to simmer while you make the rest of the sauce.<br /><br />In a 3 qt saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Add the garlic, onion and celery, and cook until softened but not coloring. Add the flour and cook about 3 minutes. It’s OK if the flour browns slightly, but don’t let it get too dark. Add the evaporated milk, cream (and all the herbs), and chicken broth. Taste for seasoning and correct as needed with salt and pepper. Reduce heat to low and simmer until sauce is quite thick.<br /><br />Remove sauce from the heat and strain through a fine sieve into a large bowl. Discard solids. Stir in chicken and chopped scallions (I taste for seasoning again here). Allow to cool slightly (about 30 mins).<br /><br />Roll out pie crust, and fit into a 9” (1” deep) pie pan (spray the pan with cooking spray, and be sure to spray the edge of the pan so the crust doesn’t stick when you crimp it). Pour the filling into the prepared crust, and roll out the top crust. If you’re using the cheese, scatter it over the top of the filling now. Cover with the top crust and crimp the edges with a fork. Brush the crust with the egg and water mixture.<br /><br />Bake at 375 for 45 minutes to an hour (start checking at 45 minutes—the top crust should be golden, and if using a glass pie plate, you should see little bubbles around the sides of the bottom crust through the dish). Allow to cool for ten minutes. Serve. </div>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-15953235709177130092010-02-22T10:31:00.001-08:002010-02-22T10:36:14.909-08:00Up Next: Chicken PieI've been working on a chicken pie that I'll make one last time this weekend and then reveal it to the world. I found the recipe and it just sounded amazing, but like so many things, it fell short. So I set out to retool it and work out the kinks, and if the fact that my husband ate half of the "beta" version this weekend says anything, we're almost there!<br /><br />This is not a chicken pot pie. This is a chicken pie. And oh my is it a good chicken pie. It's not an everyday dinner--for one thing it takes a little time--but for a special occasion, I think it would be stellar.<br /><br />OK, that's enough preview--coming soon: Chicken Pie!TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-54199241631426451922010-01-31T14:19:00.000-08:002010-01-31T14:44:33.354-08:00Moving OnOK, I need to get past this. You see, I've been <em>haunted</em> for the last...wow, almost three months now, by these eclairs! They just never turned out the way I wanted them too, and I've just been too discouraged to talk about them. <div><br /></div><div>It's not that they were bad, mind. They just weren't what <em>I</em> expected them to be. But I watched some Julia Child a couple of weeks ago and one of the things she said was (to paraphrase), "Never apologize; just because it disappoints <em>you </em>doesn't mean the people you're serving know that it's not the way you intended it to be." In effect, keep your mouth shut and everyone will probably think it's just fine. Well, that surely is what happened with these eclairs. My friends thought they were just dandy. Bless them.</div><div><br /></div><div>But to bring myself to closure here, let me explain what disappointed me. I made the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">choux</span> paste, and it was fine. For all the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">kerfluffle</span> out there about how tricky cream puffs are, they're not. You make the batter (you can even do it in a food processor) and steam does all the work for you (which is why I picked this particular dessert for this supper club--the theme was "air" and I felt that a pastry in which the "air" technically did all the work was right in line). </div><div><br /></div><div>So, crisp little fingers of puffy buttery dough, the creamy <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">custardy</span> filling. No problem, right? Wrong. The directions for these eclairs call for lightening the filling with whipping cream. Nice idea, but guess what? You can't pipe it. If you look inside a cream puff or <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">gougere</span>, you'll see that the steam has indeed fluffed everything up nicely, but it leaves this sort of spider <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">webby</span> network of dough that you have to force aside to while you're filling them. That light airy cream just didn't have enough muscle for the job.</div><div><br /></div><div>As a result, I was forced to slit the eclairs down the side and plop the filling in. Worst thing in the world? Of course not. Actually the way the instructions described the filling process? Why, yes. Not in line with my personal expectations? Ah, no, and this is where we come to the crux of the problem, and the aforementioned haunting.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's not that they turned out badly, or even that they turned out differently than the recipe described, it's that they did not meet my expectations, and because I let myself down, I labeled them a flop. Of course I didn't stop cooking after this, I just stopped talking about it here. I was too mortified by my own <em>perceived</em> failure to come back and discuss it. </div><div><br /></div><div>So now I am back, and I have discussed it. I didn't mention that the chocolate glaze let me down too, in part because I waited too late to make it and it didn't harden up the way it was supposed to until the <em>next day</em>. Again, my fault. If I'd made the chocolate in the morning, it would probably have been fine by 5 p.m. or so, when I needed to use it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well, live and learn. I think I have some pictures of this mortifying experience somewhere. </div><div><br /></div><div></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGtmL7WQkB6HLY2g53BgRRbExIPiyv4UuabW26qEGMFyL6wgjwsJG1vQHkSjt44DXWA165NvplNNj1cSQY2OxNTFVag6VAW_yRLDYF74T63OZycY_B0u6qB90LTpV6B7611O5Qg/s1600-h/eclair.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433037491162674002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGtmL7WQkB6HLY2g53BgRRbExIPiyv4UuabW26qEGMFyL6wgjwsJG1vQHkSjt44DXWA165NvplNNj1cSQY2OxNTFVag6VAW_yRLDYF74T63OZycY_B0u6qB90LTpV6B7611O5Qg/s400/eclair.JPG" /></a></p><div>Right, you see? Fine. They're fine. The picture is a little heavy on glare for my taste, but I didn't edit it at all, just dropped it in here.</div><div> </div><div>Now that we're past that, I'll start working on some other things that won't disappoint. I'm not even going to bother giving you the recipe for the eclairs, I'm so annoyed at how I let them ruin my life for three months. They are dead to me. Let's move on!</div><div> </div><div><br /> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6nO8q8PORoKXxmm9t0INn3qwSNOlknqB98CNinMsfelFKDT9VL-AiXRLjoizJ4cip3KhF0iOlS1Rdpr3CHbZPOXWfz8b4N2vIbyBECj4queUhlXyKKxoIvuB9lawvzndzMh-7rA/s1600-h/eclair.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6nO8q8PORoKXxmm9t0INn3qwSNOlknqB98CNinMsfelFKDT9VL-AiXRLjoizJ4cip3KhF0iOlS1Rdpr3CHbZPOXWfz8b4N2vIbyBECj4queUhlXyKKxoIvuB9lawvzndzMh-7rA/s1600-h/eclair.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6nO8q8PORoKXxmm9t0INn3qwSNOlknqB98CNinMsfelFKDT9VL-AiXRLjoizJ4cip3KhF0iOlS1Rdpr3CHbZPOXWfz8b4N2vIbyBECj4queUhlXyKKxoIvuB9lawvzndzMh-7rA/s1600-h/eclair.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6nO8q8PORoKXxmm9t0INn3qwSNOlknqB98CNinMsfelFKDT9VL-AiXRLjoizJ4cip3KhF0iOlS1Rdpr3CHbZPOXWfz8b4N2vIbyBECj4queUhlXyKKxoIvuB9lawvzndzMh-7rA/s1600-h/eclair.JPG"></a></div>TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31274466.post-70211759104706352142009-11-07T11:52:00.000-08:002009-11-07T12:20:46.534-08:00Chocolate Eclairs in Real TimeWe have a quarterly supper club that meets tonight. Our theme for this meal is "air." All the components have to have some relation to air. That relationship can be as vague or as specific as desired (and if someone says, "I'm serving rack of lamb, because lambs breathe air," I won't be the least bit upset). The hostess provides the entree, and the other three couples provide an appetizer, sides, and dessert. We rotate who does what, and tonight I'm to provide dessert.<br /><br />I cast aside the obvious "air" references in dessert--meringue because it looks like the clouds, souffles because they're airy. Instead I chose chocolate eclairs--the heated air is what causes the choux pastry to puff. Choux pasty is so easy to make, it's a shame people don't make it more often.<br /><br />I decided to do this recipe in stages. That way, if any one step failed, I could chuck the whole thing in the garbage and go buy a pavlova or some Miss Meringe cookies at the grocery store. So I thought I'd share this as I made it.<br /><br />Step one is the pastry cream, because it needs to cool for at least an hour, and it was the most intimidating piece to me. I've made choux pastry many times, but I can't recall ever having made pastry cream. Anything where I'm heating up raw eggs or yolks to the point where they could potentially scramble makes me a little uneasy.<br /><br />And truth be told, I think I did scramble it a little, but at the end of the recipe the pastry cream gets folded into whipped cream, so I think the stirring I'll be giving it prior to the folding will take care of any little lumps.<br /><br />But here's the result of my efforts:<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss-EagfqxBAkOfT4IS8_sWjtJC5JxuYA8d_c_aqrKD4H3DUmq7wGXW-Xe7xMo4JEL1C49QNhyphenhyphenbqOTO2Mhdjn833vnwTKZGnV_IaVO8obHj-O1jkx_nyIKmdN5nfw5TXtghD1EXQ/s1600-h/pastry+cream.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401455169111891026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiss-EagfqxBAkOfT4IS8_sWjtJC5JxuYA8d_c_aqrKD4H3DUmq7wGXW-Xe7xMo4JEL1C49QNhyphenhyphenbqOTO2Mhdjn833vnwTKZGnV_IaVO8obHj-O1jkx_nyIKmdN5nfw5TXtghD1EXQ/s400/pastry+cream.JPG" /></a></p><p align="left">Not bad. This spoonful went right in my mouth, of course, and I can report that it has a nice vanilla flavor. It looks like vanilla pudding, and I guess that's pretty much what it tastes like (indeed, pretty much what it is). But I'm pleased that it turned out and I don't, at this point, at least, have to make a grocery run.</p><p align="left"><strong>Vanilla Pastry Cream</strong><br /><em>Enough for 12 – 13 éclairs<br />From Fine Cooking magazine<br /></em><br />1 cup whole milk (I was out of whole—I used ½ and ½)<br />3 large egg yolks<br />¼ cup granulated sugar<br />2 tablespoons cornstarch<br />1/8 teaspoon salt<br />½ teaspoon vanilla extract<br /><br />Warm the milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat until tiny bubbles appear around the edges. In a medium bowl, combine egg yolks, sugar, and salt. Whisk to combine. Add the cornstarch and salt and whisk. Pour half of the hot milk into the egg yolk mixture and whisk well. Add remaining hot milk and whisk again. Return the milk mixture to the saucepan and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly. Continue cooking until mixture thickens to the consistency of vanilla pudding. This will happen all of a sudden. One minute you’ll be whisking milk, the next minute you’ll look up to see how hard it’s raining and when you look down, you’ll have pudding. It may look lumpy as it starts to thicken, but it will smooth out.<br /><br />Remove from the heat, and scrape into a clean bowl. Whisk in the vanilla, and cover with a sheet of plastic wrap directly on the surface of the pastry cream. Refrigerate until chilled, at least an hour.</p>Next up: the dough and the ganache, but not until this afternoon.TDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00665343970056841693noreply@blogger.com6