White Fluffy Icing

Musings of a reasonably competent home cook.

Posts Tagged baking recipes

(In Search Of) King Cake!

Mar 7

Posted by Laura in Baking, Food of Love | 10 Comments

I have lived all of my years in the Lone Star State, save for three — and in those three short years, Louisiana stole a piece of my heart.

Right out of college, Matt took a job at a company called CAMECO in Thibodaux, Lousiana (which is now part of John Deere).  I still had a year to go at Southwestern University, and some day I’ll tell you the story of how we “met” (hardly the right word when you’ve known someone your entire life), fell in love, and eventually married — but for purposes of brevity, I’ll just say that I finished school, spent a year working in Houston, and then got hitched and moved to Louisiana.  We’d heard that living in the same state ups your odds of staying married, at least in the first year or two.  Not knowing any better, we were willing to try it.

People back home often asked me how I liked it “over there,” and my pat answer was that it was like living in an entirely different country.  How a place we share a state line with can be so different, I cannot say — but it’s true.  And I loved it.

Of course, one cannot comment on the peculiar culture of Louisiana without mentioning Mardi Gras — and as you’ve probably guessed by now, that’s exactly where I’m going.

It all begins with the three wise men — you know, the ones from the second chapter of Matthew’s gospel.  Every January 6th, the Catholic Church celebrates the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord — that is, the revelation of Jesus to the Gentiles.  I won’t go into the theological details, but let’s just agree that it’s a pretty big deal, and therefore, worthy of a party.

On the Church’s liturgical calendar, Christmas season technically begins on December 25 and runs through Epiphany, on January 6th — what we all simply know as the Twelve Days of Christmas.  Europeans traditionally celebrated Epiphany with huge Twelfth Night parish parties, which featured a king cake.  In honor of the three kings, or wise men, of the Epiphany story, hidden in the cake would be three beans or coins, and whomever found the prizes were crowned the kings and queens of the day.  While the royalty were being outfitted for their office, the Christmas tree was taken down and “plundered,” which means the ornaments were removed, the branches were stripped, and it was stored until Lent, when it was made into a processional cross.  Meanwhile, the kings and queens held court… which is to say, they partied till the break of dawn.  Cheap beads imported from China may or may not have been involved.

I'm ready for my close-up...

These days, Epiphany still marks the end of Christmas season, but it also signifies the beginning of Mardi Gras season.  Along the way, the beans and coins turned into ceramic charms, and then into plastic babies.  Parades were added.  Krewes were formed.  Inappropriate behavior and overindulgence ensued… but one thing still holds true: the king cake.

And that’s all very well and good, you see, but here’s the thing: in the entire time I lived in Louisiana, I met many an expert home cook.  But never, not once, did I have a homemade king cake.  They’re kind of like doughnuts, in the sense that everyone picks them up at a bakery or grocery store, and next to no one makes them at home.  Is it me, or is that odd for a confection with such a rich cultural heritage?

For years, I’ve been casually looking for a good king cake recipe, but never found one compelling enough to warrant an attempt.  Then recently, I made the acquaintance of Jim Gossen, a perfect Cajun gentleman that lives here in Houston, but grew up in Louisiana and still has a home on Grand Isle.  Certainly he’d have a recipe for king cake, right?

Right.  Jim very graciously shared with me that his family enjoys the French version in Julia Child’s Mastering The Art of French Cooking: Gateau des Rois.  Of course!  The recipe I’d been searching for had been under my nose all along.  I eagerly consulted my 2003 anniversary edition of Mastering, and I’m ashamed to say, I couldn’t find it.  Before you suggest it, yes, I checked Volume II, too.  Either Julia can’t write an index, or I can’t read.  Maybe both.

Just as I finished turning every page of the desserts section of both volumes of Mastering, the universe reached out to me.  John Besh shared his king cake recipe via a link on Twitter, and when I clicked through, get this: it was this article by the Houston Chronicle‘s very own Greg Morago.  Sure, John is no Julia — no one is — but the recipe was from his beautiful My New Orleans cookbook, which is basically a love letter to Louisiana and its food culture.  So I had to try it.

As you can see, I went a little over the top with the tri-colored glazes and the beads, and Matt walked in just as I finished utterly destroying our kitchen.  But a funny thing happened when I cut him the first slice and handed him a fork.  He started talking about Louisiana.

While I did the dishes, he told me stories I hadn’t heard before, about his time there before I arrived.  He was a young engineer, still wet behind the ears and from out of state, much less out of town.

At the CAMECO offices, a lady named Pat traditionally brought the first king cake of the season, on January 6th.  Knowing that Matt didn’t know a king cake from his elbow, Pat stopped by his desk and told him to be sure and get a slice, which he did.  And sure enough, when he cut into the cake, he hit something rock hard.  Oh no, he thought.  What’s wrong with this cake?!

Immediately his co-workers started exclaiming, He got the baby!  Big Tex got the baby!  Hey Matt, that means you gotta bring a king cake tomorrow.

Great.  Not only was there a foreign mass in his slice of cake, which he would have to somehow politely ignore, but he had no idea why his colleagues were going on and on about a baby.  Or how he was going to produce a king cake on less than 24 hours’ notice.  Knowing him like I do, I’m sure Matt turned beet red while he tried to figure it out.  And having later gotten to know many of the folks that were in the room that day, I’m sure they lapped it up.

What an outstanding example of how food connects us to a time and place. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

p.s.  While I greatly enjoyed Mr. Besh’s king cake, I still want to try Julia Child’s recipe.  If any of you have time to point a dim-witted food blogger in the right direction on how to find it in a book she already owns, please let me know…

Tags: , , , , , ,

A Very Special Pie

Feb 19

Posted by Laura in Baking, Food of Love | 11 Comments

A horticultural miracle.

My mother made every effort to attend parties and weddings.  Without a darn good reason, not accepting an invitation was, well, rude.  If they like us enough to invite us, then we like them enough to go, she would say.  I didn’t really understand this as a child, especially because my mother’s most frazzled moments involved darting around the house in bare feet, makeup partially applied, simultaneously telling my dad which tie to wear, my brother that tennis shoes were not acceptable, and me to put down that book and get dressed, for crying out loud.  It’s a wonder we ever got out of the house.

The part about being rude didn’t sink in until middle school, when I started receiving event invitations of my own.  The first time I told Mom I wasn’t going to Little Johnny’s party because he [is mean] / [is weird] / [smells funny] / [insert juvenile excuse here], she quickly put me in my place.  How would it feel, she asked, if you had a party, and no one came?  Decorations up, invitations sent, special outfit on, and then no one showed? I admitted that it was a pretty rotten scenario, and after that, I became quite the party-goer.

But as strongly as she felt about parties, Mom went to even greater lengths to attend funerals.  She went to funerals for people she’d barely met, without knowing a single other person in attendance.  Why?  It’s not for the deceased, she would say, it’s for their family. I didn’t understand that either – wouldn’t the family be more occupied with their own sadness than keeping tabs on attendees?

What I didn’t realize is that the truly sad part for the immediate family begins after the funeral, when life goes on and abandons them in their grief.  Before that, there’s simply no time.  It’s a whirlwind of activity, very much like planning a wedding on about three days’ notice: food, flowers, lectors, pallbearers, officiants, details, details, details.  Don’t even get me started on figuring out what to wear.  How bone-deep awful would it be to do all that for a mostly empty church?  What would that say about the deceased?

That’s why I had such mixed feelings during my own mother’s funeral.  I was stressed about the arrangements, and I was worried about giving the eulogy.  Seeing my mother in her casket was completely surreal.  But the giant offset to all that was the throngs of people who were there, some from far-flung places, and their tremendous outpouring of love and support.  I’ve never been in a sadder, more anxious, happier place in my life.

Now, when people ask me what they can do to help a friend who’s lost a loved one, my immediate suggestion is to attend the funeral, if at all possible.  It matters more than you might think.  That being said, I also understand that there are myriad reasons why some people simply can’t attend a funeral.  That’s why I want to tell you about what Janet did.

About a week after the funeral, the doorbell rang.  It was my neighbor, Janet.  Next to her was a small tree in a container, with a pretty stained glass cross hanging from one of the branches.

I wanted to give you something to honor your mom, she said.  It’s a Meyer lemon tree.

What she didn’t know was that my mother adored homegrown lemons.  She used to give gifts of pre-measured lemon juice with a recipe attached for lemon pudding or some such, and instructions on how to freeze it if they couldn’t use it right away.

Carnage.

And of course, as a cook, I use lemons all the time – and Meyers are my favorite.  It was an incredibly thoughtful gesture, and I immediately started fighting back appreciative tears.

But there was just one problem: I’m a terrible gardener.  The worst, actually.  I have a gruesome trail of dead houseplants, vegetables, herbs, and yeast starters in my wake.  One of my irrational fears while pregnant was that I’d be tasked with keeping a real human baby alive.  (Seriously.)

Normally I would have delegated tree stewardship to Matt, who is almost as good at growing stuff as building stuff – but as a budding entrepreneur, we both knew our little citrus gem wouldn’t be top of mind for him, either.  His solution? An automatic watering device.  Or, as I like to call it, my plant nanny.

A year later, there were exactly thirteen lemons hanging on my mom’s tree.  I was astonished, and thrilled.

About the same time, I was browsing Mom’s ridiculously large cookbook library, researching mincemeat pie.  Mincemeat’s popularity is on a steep decline, but it was quite popular as recently as a couple of generations ago — so I made an educated guess that an older cookbook would have the depth of information I wanted.  Sure enough, I found a goldmine: Farm Journal’s Complete Pie Cookbook from 1965, with an entire chapter on mincemeat.  Bingo.

But that’s not even the best part.  When I took the book off the shelf, I immediately noticed a little flag sticking up, marking a page.  Ladies and gentlemen, would you like to guess which chapter it opened to?  Why, that would be “Beautiful Lemon Pies,” of course.  The first recipe of the chapter is “Best-Ever Lemon Meringue Pie,” with a note in my mother’s handwriting: Delicious!

"Delicious!"

And that, my friends, is why mincemeat research was postponed until next fall.  I went home and made Meyer lemon meringue pie instead.  In the process, I learned that people go absolutely bonkers for lemon meringue – bonkers, I say!  I can’t remember how many people said, “Ohhhhhh, lemon meringue is my FAVORITE.”  Who knew?  And haven’t these people ever eaten chocolate?!

How this information had eluded me before, I don’t know – it probably has something to do with the fact that I’m more of a cake baker than a pie maker.  What I do know is that Mom is still giving me recipes and nudging me in new directions.  If I’m lucky, it will take me the rest of my life to sift through all of her cookbooks and find her other notes – sort of like an Easter egg hunt for the ages.

What a wonderfully comforting thought.

All because of Janet and her very special tree.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Best-Ever Lemon Meringue Pie
From Farm Journal’s Complete Pie Cookbook, 1965

“A Farm Journal 5-star special”

Baked 9-inch pie shell
1 ½ cups sugar
1 1/2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup cornstarch
1/3 cup water
4 egg yolks, slightly beaten
1/2 cup lemon juice
3 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon grated lemon peel

Meringue
4 egg whites
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar

Combine 1 1/2 cups sugar, 1 1/2 cups water, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in saucepan; heat to boiling.

Mix cornstarch and 1/3 cup water to make a smooth paste; add to boiling mixture gradually, stirring constantly; cook until thick and clear.  Remove from heat.

Combine egg yolks and lemon juice; stir into thickened mixture.  Return to heat and cook, stirring constantly, until mixture bubbles again.  Remove from heat.  Stir in butter and lemon peel.  Cover and cool until lukewarm.

Preheat oven to 325°F.

For meringue, add salt to egg whites; beat until frothy.  Gradually add 1/2 cup sugar, beating until glossy peaks are formed.  Stir 2 rounded tablespoons of meringue into lukewarm filling.

Pour filling into cool pie shell.  Pile remaining meringue on top and spread lightly over filling, spreading evenly to edge of crust.

Bake at 325°F about 15 minutes, or until lightly browned.  Cool on rack at least 1 hour before cutting.

Tags: , , ,

I Further Resolve…

Jan 22

Posted by Laura in Baking, Food of Love | No Comments

It's officially called Cashew-Date Bread, but I call it Pantry-Cleaner-Outter Bread.

Sooooo, what if your kitchen needs more of a detox than your diet does?

It never fails that in January, I can barely close my pantry door for all the food stuffed in there.  It reminds me of trying to get away with “cleaning” my room by shoving it all out of sight.  It was exceedingly obvious to me that no one in the history of the world had ever thought of such a clever concept.  I was a genius!  I know you know what happened next: Mom walked in, went straight to the closet, opened it, and a heap of crap tumbled to the floor.  Then I thought SHE was a genius.  Oh, to be eight years old again.

That closet from the early 80s is my post-holiday pantry of today.  And don’t even get me started on the freezer — extracting something from that overpacked thing is like playing a hard-core game of Jenga.  Freezer Jenga.

There are two factors at play here: First, I probably do more cooking in November and December than the rest of the year combined.  Okay, well… that’s a stretch.  But it’s a lot.  And there are tons of stray ingredients still hanging around — soldiers left on the battlefield, if you will.

An almost full package of crystallized ginger, because I needed one ounce for a recipe.  More panko than any one person should legally own.  And ohhhhhh, the cranberry inventory.  When the fresh stuff hits the produce aisle, I start hoarding it like the apocalypse is coming, and half of it winds up in the freezer.

Second, I have the luxurious problem of receiving quality ingredients as gifts during the holidays.  Which I love, by the way.  This year, I have about five pounds of pecans left, and a mixed case of cane syrup and sorghum molasses.  I tell ya, if everyone had my problems, the world would be a better place.

I fancy myself as a bit of an amateur test kitchen cook all the year round, but in January, the experimenting really gets out of hand. I try all sorts of new stuff, based solely on all the surplus.  When it’s over, I usually feel like I’ve Tom Sawyered myself into cleaning out the kitchen, but hey, I have a clean kitchen.  And I almost always learn something new.

For example, at the moment, I’m focusing on the pecans.  There’s no room for them in the freezer, and they always go rancid more quickly than I expect.  The thought of tossing out five pounds of beautiful Texas pecan halves… well, I don’t even want to think about it.

Consequently, I’m about halfway through a study on pecan pie.  Light syrup vs. dark syrup vs. cane syrup vs. sorghum molasses.  White sugar vs. brown sugar.  Adding melted chocolate.  Adding chocolate chunks.  You get the idea.  I’ve already made some serious tweaks to my standard recipe, which, to be honest, wasn’t all that great. When I finish all my “research”, I’ll let you know the results.

In the meantime, I have a bread recipe that I use every January, because it can accommodate almost any combination of dried fruit and nuts.  That means it’s perfect for all the bits of this and handfuls of that that are lying around.

It’s a humble little loaf — the oats and wheat flour give it a little body, and it’s ever so slightly sweetened with honey.  With a house smelling of freshly baked bread and a pantry that’s under control, I could almost forget all about the Christmas decorations I shoved into the guest bedroom…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Cashew-Date Bread
From The Bread Bible, by Beth Hensperger

1 cup plus ¼ cup warm water (105° to 115°F)
2 tablespoons (2 packages) active dry yeast
Pinch of sugar
1 cup warm buttermilk (105° to 115°F)
½ cup honey
½ cup rolled oats
4 tablespoons (½ stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1½ cups whole-wheat flour
¾ cup coarsely chopped pitted dates (or whatever dried fruit you have on hand)
¾ cup coarsely chopped raw cashews (or whatever nuts you have on hand)*
About 4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, or bread flour

Pour 1 cup of the warm water in a small bowl. Sprinkle the yeast and sugar over the surface of the water. Stir to dissolve and let stand at room temperature until foamy, about 10 minutes.

In a large bowl using a whisk, or in the work bowl of a heavy-duty electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine buttermilk, remaining ¼ cup warm water, honey, oats, butter, salt, and cinnamon in a large bowl. Add the whole-wheat flour and yeast mixture. Beat until creamy and smooth, for about 3 minutes. Add the dates, cashews, and all-purpose flour, ½ cup at a time, stirring with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough that just clears the sides of the bowl is formed.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead until smooth, about 5 minutes, dusting with flour only 1 tablespoon at a time as needed to make a soft and springy dough. Take care not to add too much flour. Push back any fruit or nuts that fall out during kneading. The dough will have a slightly dense and sticky quality.

[If kneading by machine, switch from the paddle to the dough hook and knead for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the dough is smooth and springs back when pressed. If desired, transfer the dough to a floured surface and knead briefly by hand.]

Place the dough in a greased bowl. Turn to grease the top and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm area until doubled in bulk, 1 to 1½ hours.

Gently deflate the dough. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Grease the loaf pans — either two 8½ x 4½-inch pans or five 6 x 3½-inch pans. Divide the dough into 2 large or 5 small loaves. Shape the loaves and place them in the pans. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rise until level with the tops of the pans, 30 to 40 minutes.

Twenty minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 375°F. Bake large loaves 35 to 40 minutes, and the small loaves 25 to 30 minutes, or until brown and sound hollow when tapped. Transfer immediately to a cooling rack. Cool completely before slicing (because it won’t slice well when hot… or do like I do, and use an electric knife immediately!).

*When I use cashews in this recipe, I leave them raw. For pecans or walnuts, I toast them. In fact I almost always toast nuts before baking with them, whether the recipe directs me to or not.

Tags: ,

Lagniappe: A Note From Tom

Dec 20

Posted by Laura in Baking, Lagniappe | 1 Comment

Remember Tom, from Williams-Sonoma?  He helped me breathe while resisting the urge to buy all those vintage culinary books at his store.

You might have thought I was exaggerating when I referred to him as The Most Helpful Sales Guy in the History of Retail.  Which would be understandable, really, because I have been known to embellish this thiiiis much (thumb and forefinger spaced exactly two microns apart) on occasion.  But not this time — I have proof.

I sent Tom a link to the post last week, and he wrote back with a very gracious note, along with three recipes that look amazing.  They were obviously meant to be shared:

Hi Laura:

Thank you for your kind words and great posting.

I have attached a few recipes that you and your readers might enjoy.  The Stuffed Pear Salad is from Cooking Light, I have made it so many times that I added the chart of how much for how many people.  The other two were my mother’s favorite things to make at Christmas time.

I wish you and all your loved ones a Blessed Christmas and all the best in 2011!

Tom

Was I right or was I right?  Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty.

Thanks, Tom — and all the best to you and yours as well!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stuffed Pear Salad
from Cooking Light, 1996
(I couldn’t get Tom’s very cool chart to display correctly in HTML. If you’re interested in scaling this up, email me at whitefluffyicing (at) gmail (dot) com and I’ll zip you his original.)

½ cup nonfat ricotta cheese
2 tablespoons golden raisins
1 tablespoon honey
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 firm ripe red pears
½ teaspoon lemon juice
2 cups torn watercress or other lettuce
Piquant Dressing (recipe below)
1 ½ tablespoons pine nuts, toasted

Combine first 4 ingredients in a small bowl, stirring well. Set aside.

Core pears; cut each in half lengthwise. Brush cut sides of pears with lemon juice.

Place ½ cup watercress on each individual salad plate. Place one pear half on watercress on each salad plate. Spoon ricotta cheese mixture evenly onto pear halves. Drizzle Piquant dressing over pears, and sprinkle with pine nuts. Serve immediately. Yields 4 servings.

Piquant Dressing
¼ cup unsweetened applesauce
1 tablespoon white balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper

Combine all ingredients in a small bowl, stirring well. Yields ¼ cup plus 1 tablespoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apple Cranberry Pie

Pastry for 9-inch two-crust pie
3/4 cup brown sugar
¼ cup sugar
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
4 cups peeled, sliced tart apples
2 cups Ocean Spray fresh or frozen cranberries (whole or chopped)
2 tablespoons butter or margarine

Preheat oven to 425ºF.

In a large bowl, combine sugars, flour and cinnamon. Add fruit, mix well, turn into pastry lined pan. Dot with butter. Cover and cut slits in top crust. Seal edges.

Bake 40 minutes or until golden brown.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cranberry Nut Loaf
“This was my mother’s favorite thing to bake for people or serve at Christmas every year.”

2 cups all-purpose sifted flour
1 cup sugar
1 ½ teaspoons double-acting baking powder
½ teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon salt
¼ cup shortening
¾ cup orange juice
1 Tablespoon grated orange rind
2 eggs, well beaten
½ cup chopped nuts
1 cup fresh cranberries, coarsely chopped

Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder, soda and salt. Cut in shortening until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Combine orange juice and grated rind with well beaten egg. Pour all at once into dry ingredients, mixing just enough to dampen. Carefully fold in chopped nuts and cranberries. Spoon into greased loaf pan (9x5x3″). Spread corners and sides slightly higher than center. Bake at 350°F for about 1 hour, until crust is golden brown and toothpick inserted comes out clean. Remove from pan. Cool. Store overnight for easy slicing.

Tags: , , , , ,

Cake vs. Pie

Nov 6

Posted by Laura in Baking, Food of Love | 4 Comments

Food & Wine's version.

Let’s face it: cakes are kind of flashy.  They love the limelight, and always make their appearances at big celebrations like birthdays and weddings.  They’ve got fillings, they’ve got layers, and if they’re really good, they’ve got ganache.  Cakes are complicated and often misunderstood.  At night, when the lights at the bakery are off, they cry a lot.

Pies are different.  They’re humble.  Pies have filling and crust, the end.  If they’re really spiffed up, a pie will sport a lattice crust, or perhaps some meringue or whipped cream.  But in general, pies are meant to leave you satisfied at the end of a meal, not awestruck.  They’re the blue-collar backbone of the dessert world.

That’s why pie rocks Thanksgiving so well.  At the end of a gluttonous feast of turkey and trimmings, when your belt is loosened and you’re wondering what the football score is, you’re not in the mood for Rock Star Cake.  You want a date with Old Friend Pie.

And that’s great…  to a point.  Let’s say that you’ve been serving up the same old pie every year, and you’re ready to mix it up a little.  If you go too far, you’ll have a mutiny on your hands… your guests will take up clubs and torches and demand to know where their Old Friend is.  But you’re bored out of your flipping mind.  What’s a baker to do?

My version.

This month’s issue of Food & Wine might have the answer: Sweet Potato Meringue Pie.  That’s right, meringue on a sweet potato pie, with a healthy shot of bourbon to boot.

There’s fresh ginger in the crust, and I like it so much, it’s officially my go-to graham cracker crust.  The filling is rich and smooth, and as I mentioned, comes with a kick of alcohol.  The meringue is a little unexpected, but it works.

(Speaking of alcohol, Matt disclosed during the baking of this pie that he does not like alcohol in his dessert.  I was shocked at this news, but he swears he’s informed me of this before.  I’ve decided that I must have expunged this detail from my brain, because I simply cannot contemplate living with someone with such barbaric taste.  And now, facing this information yet again, I’ve decided to invoke the same coping mechanism of denial… )

Anyway, try the pie, for Thanksgiving, or just for the heck of it, or just for the bourbon… and let me know what you think!

Tags: , , , ,

Lagniappe: Starbucks Petite Vanilla Scones

Oct 25

Posted by Laura in Baking, Lagniappe | 2 Comments

Maybe pumpkin cream cheese muffins aren’t your thing.  Maybe at Starbucks, you’re more of a petite vanilla scone person… and really, no one can blame you.  I’m happy to say that you’re in luck.

Cheerleader Lisa sent me a super sweet note last week, with lots of good things to say about the muffins, along with a link to another blog she reads.  Turns out that Ree over at The Pioneer Woman has re-created those petite vanilla scones, and I have to say, they look amazing.  These are going on my to do list, because while you might conceivably take issue with pumpkin or cream cheese or pepitas, I daresay that no one can possibly take issue with vanilla scones.  This has “crowd pleaser” written all over it.

And speaking of amazing, I’ve developed an inferiority complex just looking at Ree’s blog (not to mention the photos of her on said blog).  I’m just going to decide in my mind that in addition to evidently being a genius with a needle-sharp wit, she has a lot of help.  I don’t care if she’s actually a one-woman show, I’ve added her live-in nanny, large capable writing staff, and photo editor to my own version of reality —  which, by the way, also includes the fact that I’ll one day be a size 4 again, that money grows on trees, and that I have a Pulitzer prize-winning book lodged somewhere in my brain that will one day make its presence known.

I’ll continue to live in La La Land, but don’t join me.  You’re better off making these scones.  Mail me some, won’t you?

Tags: ,

Bon Appétit Challenge: Apple Torte with Breadcrumb-Hazelnut Crust

Oct 24

Posted by Laura in 2010 Bon Appétit Covers, Baking, Cover Recipe Results | 5 Comments

It might look okay, but it's not. It's really not.

Swing and a miss!  BA is oh-fer-two on desserts in 2010.  This apple torte was a big ‘ol flop, and the worst part is, it’s probably due to technical reasons. 

When I took a good look at the recipe, two problems presented themselves right away.  First, 8 cups of breadcrumbs were called for in the ingredient list, but only 3 were referenced in the directions, with no explanation for how this “new math” would work.  Oops. 

Second, the apples are cooked for quite a long time before filling the crust, and the whole thing is then baked for an additional hour.  Call me crazy, but that sho’ is a whole lotta cookin’ for delicate apple flesh.  When baking the guh-jillion other apple pies I’ve made in my life, the apples are tossed in sugar and spices and then placed into the crust still raw.  Hmmmmm. 

With that in mind, let us begin. 

Lidia’s Problematic Apple Torte, Take One.  Action! 

(A Sunday afternoon, weeks ago.) 

I purchased all the ingredients, which was a non-event except that I had to go to my slightly-larger-but-still-in-the-suburbs supermarket to get the hazelnuts.  I got home and started the prep, beginning, naturally, with the breadcrumbs.  Having made the aforementioned guh-jillion apple pies before in my life, how hard could this be? 

Well, I de-crusted my grocery store French bread, chunked it up, pulsed it in the processor, and dumped it into my handy 2-quart measuring cup… and only had 4 cups.  Drat.  I’d have to go back to the store.  I stowed the crumbs temporarily in the refrigerator.  Because, you know, I was gonna back run to the store.  Any second.  That day. 

Lidia’s Problematic Apple Torte, Take Two.  Action! 

(The following Sunday afternoon, still weeks ago.)  

After a week of cramming our fridge contents around a giant 2-quart measuring cup, I finally froze them for later use on something else.  As you know, refrigerators are more than just coolers, they’re also de-humidifiers.  So crumbs stashed in the fridge for a week would be pretty darn dry before they ever see the oven, where they would might do something unexpected, like overbrown quickly.  And I wanted to be true to the recipe.  

So I bought two fresh loaves of French bread.  My apples and lemons still looked pretty good. 

And then my back went out.  Bah! 

Lidia’s Problematic Apple Torte, Take Three.  Action! 

(The third Sunday afternoon in a row, still weeks ago.) 

Well, my back was still bothering me a week later, but being the young nimble thirty-something that I am, I just knew a full recovery was right around the corner.  So I asked Matt (who was doing the grocery shopping, due to the back injury) to pick up my torte ingredients, so that I’d be able to hit the ground running.  The apples and lemons had gone south, and the second round of bread was petrified long ago. 

But my back didn’t get better; it got worse.  Pill popping commenced, with the ancillary benefit of helping me cope with my frustrations.  And the third set of petrified bread on the counter.  Grrrrr. 

Lidia’s Problematic Apple Torte, Take Four.  Action! 

(Yesterday.)  

Last week, the back still wasn’t great, but better.  However, I was so busy catching up on work and life that the apple torte had to wait.  Plus, somewhere during the interlude, I made the mistake of checking the online version of the recipe.  Bad move.  Comments were flying about the technical problems with the recipe.  Even Jasmine, a fellow blogger who’s also covering all the BA covers, pans the thing, and she’s normally a pretty sunny optimist.  It’s hard to get pumped over something you know isn’t going to go well, you know? 

Yesterday, I sucked it up and made the thing, muttering something about if I’d only gone back for that second loaf during Take One, this Frankenpie would be behind me.  Matt stopped by the kitchen, during the bread grinding process, to ask what I’m up to.  “Apple Torte, Take Four,” was my reply.  “Noooo,” he said.  “I’ve seen four sets of bread come through this kitchen, and I can tell you with certainty that this process does not yield pie.”  (I reminded him that he’d been properly Mirandized, and anything he said could and would be used against him on the blog.  He sported a half-smile, then left.) 

Luckily, no tragedies befell me before cranking out an actual pie this time.  And the result? 

Well, it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but it was pretty bad.  As expected, the filling was overcooked apple mush (albeit overcooked apple mush with a pleasant kick of cider).  And as expected, there was a metric ton of breadcrumbs left unused at the end.  Jasmine said that she tore the bread into chunks, measured 8 cups of chunks, toasted the chunks, ground them, and that gave her 3 cups of crumbs.  If that’s what the recipe intended, then that’s the most poorly written recipe I’ve seen in a long time.  

But I actually think it was a simple typo, and the 3 should have been a 6 or an 8.  The crust was so wet as to be impossible to work with — I had to add shocking amounts of flour just to get it to behave, which is normally a show-killing mistake when working with pie crust.  And the final product was chewy and tasted too much like butter; further evidence that the proportions were off and more crumbs were needed. 

The other beef I have with this recipe is the hazelnut husking, which is a task I reserve for only the most promising of recipes.  Like squeezing cooked greens dry, the final product better be eye-rolling good to make it worth all the effort.  That was obviously not true in this case: in addition to the crust weirdness I’ve already mentioned, the flavor of the hazelnuts was completely lost in the mix.  Not cool. 

I had more of an issue with the crust than the filling; for Matt, it was the other way around.  I think this recipe is the worst of the year so far; Matt still thinks the gingersnap wannabe cheesecake parfait thingys were unforgivable. 

To any would-be testers of this recipe out there: proceed with caution.  Sorry Lidia, sorry Bon Appétit.  If BA responds to the online comments (which they normally do), I’ll be sure to give an update here.* 

On to turkey!  (Gulp.) 


*Actually, the BA web editor had already addressed the breadcrumb issue before I wrote this post, and I missed it because it was on the second page of comments.  She wrote, “When the recipe says “spread breadcrumbs on large rimmed baking sheet”, use all 8 cups of fresh breadcrumbs. After the breadcrumbs bake/dry, they’ll shrink – leaving you with about 3 cups to proceed with. Hope this helps!” 

Of course, that doesn’t really help. In my case, the crumbs shrank to about 6 cups, not 3, and in my view, the crust needed more crumbs.  (Cringe.)

Tags: , , ,

Starbucks: The Great Harbinger of Baking Season

Oct 19

Posted by Laura in Baking, Food of Love | 19 Comments

I’m kind of reluctant to admit it, but I’m a regular at Starbucks.

It’s been this way for a while… at least for the nine years that I’ve been working in my office building, because guess what? The nearest twin-tailed mermaid logo is only about a block away. Her siren song lured me there long ago, and try as I might, I can’t stop going.

At some point along the way, Starbucks opened a new location along my route to the office, this time with a drive-through, which had zero appeal until The Boy came along. You see, when I returned from maternity leave, I changed my hours and starting driving in much earlier. Let’s do the math:  sleep deprivation + non-morning person anyway + convenient coffee shop location = caffeine addiction.

At first, I considered just getting to work a success. Ponytail, wrinkled clothes, no makeup, and a high likelihood that The Boy’s DNA was smeared somewhere my person, in one form another. I didn’t care. I’d made the journey.

Interestingly, as my son’s sleeping patterns changed, so did my interest in looking human. But makeup didn’t make the cut… that is, until I discovered the Starbucks drive-through.

It didn’t matter how backed up the drive-through was, because drive-through time = makeup time. It was perfect. I didn’t have to sacrifice any crucial moments of Mike & Mike by going in, AND I no longer had to look like a pale walking corpse at the office. It was a coup for this working mom: a brilliant mix of luxury, innovation and empowerment, with caffeine kicker. Once in a rare while, I’m just so proud of me.

I do occasionally still wander in on foot, especially this time of year. You see, in late September, the Starbucks marketing machine fires up for fall and winter. It’s a process to behold, and I’m a total sucker for it.

It starts gradually… with a menu change. Suddenly, there’s pumpkin scones, pumpkin cream cheese muffins, and pumpkin spice lattes everywhere. Which is weird, because here in Houston, late September is still hot. Like 90 degrees hot. Like is-summer-ever-really-going-to-end hot, so all this autumnal loveliness on the menu feels out of place. The same thing happens in department stores in February, when they replace the coats with bathing suits: there’s excitement that spring is coming, but also a distinct feeling that we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves.

The problem is that the pumpkin marketing, while sickeningly transparent, always works. And every year, I buy a pumpkin cream cheese muffin. And every year, it sucks.

I’m not sure how that’s possible, because pumpkin and cream cheese are dang near the top of my list of flavor combinations. And while I am a baker, and now, I suppose, a bona fide food blogger, my standards aren’t really that high… I’m just a junkie looking for a fix. But this is a standard thawed-from-frozen, preservative-laden, factory-aftertaste pastry. They’re not even trying.

So this fall, I did something about it. Something I’ve never ever done before in my whole entire life, and something, quite frankly, I never thought I’d do:

Oven ready.

I developed a recipe. For pumpkin cream cheese muffins.

I looked hither and yon for a recipe, including Google, and found nothing to my taste. But I did find my mother-in-law’s pumpkin bread recipe, which happens to be Matt’s hands-down, tippety top, Favorite Food Of All Time. And I also found my mom’s favorite pumpkin roll recipe, which includes a cream cheese filling. So I combined the two, jacked up the spices, added some pumpkin seeds, and voilà! Pumpkin cream cheese muffins.

I thought they were pretty good, definitely better than Starbucks, but I wanted to be sure. So I bought another muffin on my next drive into the office, and submitted it alongside some of mine to my good friend John, who happens to have quite an elegant palate. Now, before I tell you what he said, you need to know that John and I think the world of each other, and aren’t afraid of saying so… in fact, when I’m feeling a little blue, I go upstairs to see John. He’s the kind of friend that makes you feel like a rock star, no matter what kind of curveballs the world is tossing at you.

Anyway, he sent this note:

Oh! Laura!

Thank you so much for the incredible treat you left with me Monday. I think your pumpkin muffins are truly one of the most wonderful things I have ever tasted!! I can’t imagine how you manage to obtain the earthy depths of pumpkin taste while not losing the delicate heights of subtle sweetness of this incredible gift from the earth. It is such a layering and separation of tastes that it’s just amazing. After YOU pull something out of the oven everything else is never quite the same!

It’s actually very cruel to even allow “the other muffins”in the same room. The tragically sad comparison – after your muffins – of the Starbucks version sadly consists only of the clawing sweetness of corn syrup attempting to disguise the sour gumminess of preservatives in cardboard tasting dough. I suppose if one had never had “The Laura Version” it would be OK if you got it out of a vending machine!

Happy to be your guinea pig ANYTIME!

Starbucks' version on the left, mine on the right.

See what I mean about the rock star thing? Honestly, they weren’t all that… I’m not sure muffins even can be all that, really. But John is very good to me, and I am extremely fond of him, and I’ll accept his effusive praises any day of the week. Wouldn’t you?

When I make these again, I’ll make a few tweaks. I’ll jack up the spices even more, and I’ll try leaving out the water in hopes of a slightly denser muffin. On half of them, I’ll leave the seeds off and flirt with a different muffin topping. In fact, I have a second John whose culinary opinions I also highly respect, and the new muffin topping was his suggestion. Sadly, the details flew out of my head about 2 seconds after he provided them. He’s a WFI reader, the comment shy type, but if we keep our fingers crossed, he’ll just might cave to the pressure and leave his suggestion below…

In the meantime, I’m grateful to Starbucks for getting me all stirred up about fall, and for leaving me unfulfilled enough to try something new.

Happy baking season!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Readers, beware! As I mentioned, this is my first recipe ever. Feedback from any and all testers would be highly appreciated, especially regarding the bake time and yield.

 

PUMPKIN CREAM CHEESE MUFFINS

Cream Cheese Filling:
16 ounces cream cheese, softened
2 cups powdered sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla

Pumpkin Batter:
3 1/3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons cinnamon (I’ll try 3 tsp next time)
2 teaspoons nutmeg (I’ll try 3 tsp next time)
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves (I’ll try a full tsp next time)
1 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs
2/3 cup water (I’ll omit this next time)
1 (15-ounce) can pumpkin pack

1/2 cup pumpkins seeds (aka pepitas), toasted

Combine filling ingredients in a large bowl and mix well. Refrigerate until firm, for at least an hour and up to 24 hours.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray muffin cups with nonstick spray (or line with baking cups). Combine all pumpkin batter ingredients in the large bowl of an electric mixer and beat until light and smooth. Divide batter among muffin cups (I think mine made 4 dozen standard sized muffins), filling only half-full (to leave room for the cream cheese filling).

Drop cream cheese filling into centers of muffin batter by the spoonful (a quenelle or bullet shape is ideal, so that the filling runs through most of the muffin vertically), about a scant tablespoon for each muffin. Sprinkle toasted seeds on top.

Bake at 350°F until a toothpick tests clean, checking after 20 minutes. Makes approximately 4 dozen standard muffins.

Tags: , ,

Bon Appétit Challenge: As American As Italian Apple Pie

Sep 14

Posted by Laura in 2010 Bon Appétit Covers, Cover Announcements | 12 Comments

Woo hoo!  Another shot at a dessert.  We’re going from the all-American burger (which was even more American because regular fat wasn’t good enough… we had to amp up our fatty McFattness with special luxury cow fat.  How American is that?) to apple pie.  It’s enough to make me want to pop in a Lee Greenwood album.

But seriously, with the anniversary of 9/11 just having passed, along with the anniversaries of three hurricanes that changed the Gulf Coast (Katrina, Rita, and Ike), I am feeling a little wispy about the good old U. S. of A.  So bring on an Italian version of apple pie!  Err, I mean apple torte with breadcrumb-hazelnut crust!

Although I certainly know who Lidia Bastianich is from her cookbooks and her show on PBS, I’ve never actually made any of her recipes, so I’m looking especially forward to this one.  And it appears that this month’s issue has a whole feature on Lidia and the flavors of Fruili, her childhood home in northeastern Italy, which might be pretty interesting.

As far as the recipe goes, there’s nothing incredibly exotic going on ingredient-wise, but the crust will certainly be unique.  Ground hazelnuts and breadcrumbs are used in place of flour, and milk instead of water.  Sounds sticky and rustic to me… this one might require a second, or even third, take before I have something to put on the table.  We shall see!

Tags: , ,

Redemption Cookies

Sep 5

Posted by Laura in Baking, Lagniappe | 8 Comments

You may have noticed that I’ve been away for a while.

It’s not that I don’t love WFI, but Life has been more foe than friend lately, and I’ve needed some time to deal with her.  She can be a real b—-, you know, and quite messy at times.  Plus, she has absolutely no qualms about kicking you when you’re down.

Oh, but things aren’t all that bad, really.  I’m just being pulled in lots of different directions.  And when you get down to it, Life is really amazing.  She’s kind of a tough love freak, but in the end, she’s a genuine friend.

To make up for my shortfalls in the blogosphere, all I can offer you is this chocolate chip-peanut butter cookie.  It’s not much, I know, and honestly this cookie is a little too cakey for me – I like mine rich and ultra chewy.  But it’s something, right?

This isn’t the first time I’ve given this cookie as a redemption offering.  Recently, I confused a Saturday with Sunday, and basically no-showed on long-standing plans with Lisa, one of my very closest friends.  At what age are schoolchildren taught to read a calendar?  Second grade?  I must have been sick that week.

Luckily, Lisa was still available the next day, and when I showed up at her door, I basically said, “Lisa.  I am soooo lame.  Hey look!  Cookies!”  I’m quite sure it didn’t work, but I’m also quite sure that she forgave me the second we figured out what had happened.  That’s part of why she’s so important to me.

The bottom line for you, dear reader, is that I have a lot going on.  We all do.  So I’m going to make a small change from posting every Monday night to a more freestyle approach.  That means that sometimes you’ll hear from me several days in a row, and sometimes you won’t hear from me for a couple of weeks. 

I don’t particularly care for this change.  As many of you know, I’m a weirdo about commitments, and I feel like I made a commitment to myself to write each week.  But as my friend Joy taught me, when circumstances change, we must renegotiate accordingly.  And as I have taught me, it’s important for me to be nice to myself.  So I’m going to accept my own renegotiation and try this new format on for size.  Hopefully we’ll all like it.

Tags: ,