FOOD ON THE FOOD

Foolproof Chocolate Fudge

In my new cookbook, New England Desserts, I have a recipe for old-fashioned chocolate fudge made with pure sugar, butter, and cream (and chocolate, of course). It's amazing. But like any skill worth learning, it takes practice for the texture to come out just right: creamy and smooth instead of dry and crumbly or weirdly soft and granular. It also requires a candy thermometer for best results.

For folks who don't have the time or inclination to go to heroic lengths for fudge, I'm reprising this easy fudge recipe that I started making in high school. It doesn't require a candy thermometer and it's basically foolproof. I mean, I'm sure it can fail if you try hard enough, but I find it 99% reliable (1% user error). Honestly, I'm not sure I could tell the difference between this recipe and the more complicated cookbook version in a blind taste-test (note to self: that would be a super-fun experiment). People love it either way.

So here's the easy version. It's good to have this recipe in your back pocket for when you really want to impress someone and/or sit alone and indulge yourself in secret.

 

Chocolate Fudge

Use quality chocolate. The better the chocolate, the better the fudge.

1 cup (6 oz.) semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 tsp. vanilla
2¼ cups sugar
1 stick (4 oz.) unsalted butter
¾ cup evaporated milk
16 large marshmallows
¼ tsp. salt

Line an 8-inch square cake pan with foil. Get your handheld electric mixer ready and have some oven mitts nearby.

To a large bowl, add the chocolate chips and vanilla. Set aside.

In a medium, 4-quart saucepan (no smaller or it will boil over), add the sugar, butter, evaporated milk, marshmallows, and salt. Stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, bring to a boil over medium heat. You want the marshmallows to be just about melted by the time the bubbling starts. If they’re not, reduce the heat a bit until they do. Once melted, bring the mixture to a heavy boil and, always stirring, set the timer for 5 minutes. Careful—the hot mixture can spatter.

Remove the pot from the heat immediately, and carefully pour the hot mixture over the chocolate chips. On low speed, blend with the mixer until uniformly brown (blending on a higher speed will introduce air bubbles, which you don’t want). Quickly pour the fudge into your prepared pan. Let it cool. Cover and refrigerate until firm. Cut into 1-inch blocks with a hot knife (run the knife under hot water and wipe). Store covered in the refrigerator for about 1 week. Makes 2 lbs.

The Next Chapter

Well, hello, dear readers. Fancy seeing you still here. I know I’ve been a very bad food blogger lately. My posts are sporadic and not very interesting, recipes are few and far between, and there’s hardly any swearing at all. What gives?

OK, I’ll come clean. I’ve decided to retire Food on the Food.

I’ve been wrestling with this for a while. This is my 10th year blogging, and that’s an eternity in internet years. In fact, it’s the longest job I’ve ever had. It was also my favorite job. Sure, the pay stunk, but what else is new? Instead of raking in the dough, I raked in the doughnuts. There’s something to be said for alternative currencies.

When I first started FotF, I was a brand new parent grappling with my untested role as a mother while trying to conserve a piece of my pre-mom psyche. This blog was my sole creative outlet, a place to experiment with my writing, my food, and myself. It always made me feel free. Writing is a somewhat selfish act for me, so I was surprised when other people starting reading too. I really enjoyed this newfound audience—any writer would—but the truth is I still would have written for an audience of one.

Over the years, the blog saw me through some tough times. It also brought incredible opportunities my way, like the chance to write a cookbook, which I enthusiastically embraced (and then another book). I got to be on NPR's All Things Considered. And I wrote a cover story for Fine Cooking magazine. It also brought me the chance to be on a Food Network reality show, which I declined. (That's just not me no matter how you slice it.)

Now I find myself in the role of a more experienced parent, author, cook, teacher, and, against all odds, gardener. More things are competing for my attention now, and I feel like I need to let go of some of the old in order to experience more of the new. And I know this is weird coming from the girl who hates change, but change is coming whether I like it or not. It’s time.

I’m excited to find out what’s next. I hope to write lots of new stories in new ways. Maybe not about food. Maybe further afield. I don’t have any idea what the future holds, but I’m going to keep an open mind. I was very lucky to be able to do what I love for 10 years, and there’s no reason to believe I won’t continue to do what I love for 10 more. I’ll keep the blog up and searchable for the foreseeable future, so don’t panic if you haven’t printed out your favorite recipes yet (but don’t wait too long!).

Thanks so much for reading, whether it was for all 10 years or just the past 10 seconds. I enjoyed sharing my life with you (from a safe distance). I hope you all continue to cook, read, and live joyfully. Maybe drop me a line sometime and let me know how you’re doing. Life is short. Make it count. And eat well!

 

Sugared Cranberries

It doesn’t really feel like the holiday season quite yet. The temperature seems too warm, the Halloween candy is still plentiful, and our pumpkins are in various states of non-frozen decomposition on the front stairs.  (For those of you following along on Husband’s Facebook page, our Jack-o’-lantern’s disgusting metamorphosis is finally complete—or is it?)

But now comes the scariest time of the year: holiday shopping season. It puts Halloween to shame. I shan’t be leaving the house until December 26. God help them if the kids outgrow their shoes during that time. Sorry, kids, no way am I going to Target today. Just wear socks and sandals. Oh, it’s snowing out? Tie a bread bag around each foot, you’ll be fine.

I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the perfect holiday gift is a mere click away. People always say they have too many cookbooks, but they don’t really mean it. True, they might not be willing to buy one for themselves, but they will always happily accept one under the tree. Trust me. And don’t forget your Aunt Mildred. She seems like a Wintersweet kind of gal, and she’s very sorry for what she said about you that time she got into the cordial!


Sugared Cranberries  

These festive treats are sweetly tart and fun to eat. Use the freshest, bounciest cranberries you can find—not frozen.

1 cup fresh cranberries, washed, picked over
1 cup water
1 cup granulated sugar, plus 1/3 cup for coating
2 strips orange peel (no white pith)

Set the cranberries aside in a small glass bowl. In a medium saucepan, stir the water, 1 cup of sugar, and the orange peels together over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Bring the syrup to a bare simmer and remove from heat. Let the syrup cool 2-3 minutes, and then pour it over the cranberries. Set a small bowl on top of the cranberries to submerge them. Cover the bowls and refrigerate for 8 hours or overnight.

Strain the cranberries and set them on a plate. Remove the orange peels, cut into thin strips, and add to the berries. Sprinkle about 3 tablespoons of sugar over the berries, a little at a time, tossing well to coat. Let dry for 2 hours. Sprinkle another 1-2 tablespoons of sugar over them, rolling the berries until well coated. Let dry another hour before serving. Store uncovered at room temperature for 1-2 days.

Source: From Wintersweet by Tammy Donroe Inman (that's me!)

Chocolate Pumpkin Cookies

The 10YO has a new favorite dessert for fall: chocolate pumpkin cookies.

The recipe came from this year’s Whole Foods calendar (October 2015), but he made a few changes. For one, he asked to use the Extra Dark Chocolate cocoa because he takes after his mom. Then he eliminated the chopped up walnuts and dates from the recipe, because, well, he’s a kid. That’s fine, I said. If you’re the one doing the work, you can make them however you want.

The result is a deliciously soft chocolate spice cookie he’s made twice already: once before Halloween and once for his school’s Election Day bake sale at the local polling station last week. They’d be a great addition to your Thanksgiving smorgasbord as well.

Chocolate Pumpkin Cookies  

They're also good with the original 1 cup of chopped walnuts and 1 cup of chopped dates mixed into the batter.

2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup Extra Dark Chocolate cocoa powder (or regular)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 cup molasses
1/2 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 tablespoon demerara sugar (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking soda, cloves, cinnamon, pepper, and salt in a medium mixing bowl. Whisk together the molasses and pumpkin puree in a separate smaller bowl.

Beat the butter and sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer on medium-high until light and fluffy, 2-3 minutes. Beat in the egg, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients and wet ingredients alternately, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Mix until well combined, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

Drop the batter in heaping tablespoonsful about 1 inch apart onto the prepared pans. Sprinkle with demerara sugar if desired. Bake until just firm around the edges, 12-14 minutes. Allow to cool slightly on baking sheets, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Makes about 3 dozen.

Source: Adapted from the 2015 Whole Foods calendar (October).

Boston Cream Puffs

The 12YO asked if I would make cream puffs over the weekend. I haven’t made cream puffs in ages—maybe since culinary school—but he had read about them in a book recently and developed a craving, so I said sure.

I probably should have asked what he was envisioning first. I don’t think he’s ever had a cream puff before, and sometimes the way things sound and the way things actually are don’t match up in a kid’s mind. Like the way Italian pastries always looked so good in the case to me when I was young, but then they usually turned out to be too dry and crumbly or not chocolaty enough and spiked with some unwelcome flavor like rum—blech! (I like rum now, but I was always super-bummed-out by rum as a kid because it detracted from the pure chocolate flavor I loved so much.)

Maybe that’s why I decided to put chocolate on these cream puffs. Or maybe because he loves Boston cream doughnuts (like mother, like son). Or maybe because we’re from Boston. Either way, they were all gone in 48 hours, mostly due to the 12YO’s winning argument that I should allow him to eat them for breakfast because they’re practically doughnuts. Touché!


Boston Cream Puffs  

These are just like little éclairs, just a touch sweeter to appeal to the young at heart. Reserve the leftover egg whites in the freezer for pavlova. Makes about 16.

Filling
1/2 cup granulated sugar
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/4 tsp. salt
4 large egg yolks
1-1/2 cups milk
2 tsp. vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

Dough
1 cup water
1/2 cup unsalted butter
3/4 tsp. salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
4 eggs, beaten

Glaze
3 oz. semisweet chocolate chips
1/3 cup heavy cream

To make the filling, whisk together the sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a medium saucepan until uniformly powdery. Add the yolks and whisk until smooth. Add 1/4 cup of the milk and whisk until combined, then whisk in the rest of the milk. Place the pan over medium heat. Cook, whisking constantly, until thickened like pudding, 7 to 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and add the butter, whisking until smooth. Stir in the vanilla extract. Transfer the custard to a bowl and cover with plastic wrap pressed up against the surface of the pudding to prevent a skin from forming. Poke a few holes in the plastic with the tip of a paring knife to let out steam. Chill until firm, at least two hours.

Preheat the oven to 425°F. Line two sheet pans with parchment paper.

In a medium saucepan, combine the water, butter, and salt, and bring to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat and add the flour. Stir the mixture with a wooden spoon (it will resemble mashed potatoes) and return the pan to medium heat. Stir vigorously to dry out the mixture until it is shiny with small beads of butter (3 to 4 minutes). Remove from the heat and transfer the mixture to a bowl to cool for 5 full minutes so the eggs don't scramble.

Reserve a tablespoon of beaten egg in a small bowl. Add the rest of the eggs in four parts to the dough, beating well after each addition with an electric mixer or a strong arm until fully incorporated. Spoon tablespoons of dough onto the prepared pans spaced at least two inches apart (you can also use a piping bag with a plain tip, but I’m much too lazy for that). Brush the tops with the reserved egg. Bake 25 to 30 minutes until the dough is puffed, golden-brown, and dried. Remove from the oven and poke a hole in the side of each puff with a toothpick to let the steam out while they cool.

When ready to assemble, make the glaze. Pour the chocolate chips into a small bowl. Heat the cream to a simmer and then pour it over the chocolate chips. Let stand for 1 minute and then stir (not too fast) with a spoon until the chocolate is melted and the mixture is completely smooth.

Carefully cut the puffs in half across the equators with a serrated knife, but keep the halves paired up. Fill the puffs with custard and replace the tops so the filling is hidden inside. You might be tempted to overfill them, but keep in mind that you need some airspace inside to keep the filling from squeezing out everywhere when you eat them. Spoon some chocolate glaze over the tops (if the ganache has solidified too much, heat it gently in the microwave for 10 to 20 seconds and stir until loosened). Refrigerate the puffs until the chocolate is set. Store in the refrigerator for 2 to 3 days.

Mexican Lime Curd

If you want to taste sunshine without leaving the frosty confines of your ice house, have I got a recipe for you: Lime Curd.

Maybe initially that doesn’t sound very enticing. Perhaps it conjures up images of congealed proteins bathed in sour juices. If so, that’s entirely the wrong idea. Think of citrus curd as a smooth, luscious pudding packed with tartness. The bright acidity hits you like a smack of cold air while the generous butter content swaddles your tongue like a warm blanket. Lemon curd is usually what people swoon over, especially when Meyer lemons are in season. But I love limes, and I’m here to tell you that lime curd can do battle with lemon curd any day of the week.

First, a bit about limes. Supermarket limes are typically Persian limes. You can make lime curd with these limes and it will be delicious (in fact, there’s a recipe for curd using regular limes in my cookbook). But I had the great fortune to end up with Mexican limes the other day. Mexico grows two kinds of limes, the ubiquitous Persian limes I just mentioned and a slightly smaller native lime, a variety that is better known as the famous Key lime. Here in the States, when limes are labeled as Mexican limes, you’re usually just getting Mexican-grown Persian limes. But every once in a while, you’ll end up with Mexican-grown Mexican limes. You probably won’t even know it until you leave them on the counter for a while and instead of staying green (or turning brown), they turn yellow like lemons. These limes are more acidic and have a bracing complexity that's hard to resist. They are widely considered to be the very best limes by the people in charge of limes.

You know how crazy people get for Key lime pie, right? Well, this Mexican lime curd is like Key lime pie without the crust. You can just spoon it out of the jar for a spontaneous burst of happiness. It’s also good on biscuits, scones, or coconut macadamia shortbread (WINTERSWEET, p. 92). Mexican limes tend to be larger than Key limes, so it doesn’t take as many or as long to juice them, but the two are interchangeable.

This curd is magical. It is delightful. And it is yours.

Mexican Lime Curd  

I’d recommend organic limes for this recipe since you’ll be using the outer peel. If not, you’ll want to scrub them well. Also, just a note that the finished curd is bright yellow, not green. That’s no mistake. The color is influenced more by the egg yolks than the juice or zest.

1 Tbsp. finely grated lime zest (shiny outer part only, not the bitter white pith)
1 1/4 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs, well beaten
3/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice from 6 Mexican limes (or ~12 Key limes)
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter
Pinch of salt

Place a large bowl half-full of ice water near the stove. Next to that, set a wire-mesh strainer nested inside a medium metal bowl.

In a medium saucepan, rub the lime zest into the sugar with your fingers until moist and fragrant. Whisk in the beaten eggs and lime juice. Add the butter and salt, and set the pot over medium-low heat. Cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until the butter melts and the mixture thickens, 5 to 10 minutes. Do not boil. Wait for when the mixture thickens to the consistency of a loose pudding. It should coat the back of a spoon, leaving a distinctive track when you run your finger through it. At this point, remove the pot from the heat.

Set the bowl with the strainer inside the ice bath, and quickly pour the curd through the strainer into the bowl, using a rubber scraper to force the curd through the sieve. (The ice bath halts the cooking and the strainer is insurance to remove any overcooked egg proteins that may arise. Be sure to scrape as much of the curd as possible off the underside of the strainer.)

Let the curd cool for a half hour before pouring it into small jars. The curd will thicken further and the flavor will intensify as it chills. Keep refrigerated for up to 2 weeks.

English Toffee

I bumped today’s exciting salad post in favor of something sweeter. What can I say, Cupid wasn’t really feeling the greens. He tried to shoot a head of lettuce at my face with his bow, but it bounced right off.

Anyway, it’s snowing again here in Boston. Another day, another blizzard, and I’m going to need something more powerful than love to help me heave all of this snow over the existing 10-foot snow banks. Something that will give me the strength and agility to do so in subzero wind chills while simultaneously dodging all of those dagger-like icicles hanging from the rooflines.

So consider this toffee recipe my form of blizzard insurance. With any luck, it’ll get me out there and back inside in under three hours. That it might also pass for something Valentine-y is purely coincidental.


English Toffee  

Sometimes I add 1/2 tsp. of vanilla to the toffee if I want a stronger, more butterscotchy flavor.

1 cup unsalted butter
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup sliced almonds, toasted
Pinch or two of coarse sea salt

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the butter, sugar, water, and salt. Stir constantly until the butter and sugar melt, and then stir occasionally until a candy thermometer reads 300°F. Remove from the heat and pour the mixture into an ungreased 13x9-inch pan.

Let the toffee sit undisturbed for 3 to 5 minutes until it stiffens a bit (don’t touch it with your fingers—it’s hot; you just want it stiff enough to hold the weight of the chocolate chips—set one on top and see if it sinks). Once the toffee has cooled a bit but still radiates heat, scatter the chocolate chips on top. Let them sit for 5 minutes to melt, and then spread the chocolate evenly over the toffee, all the way to the edges. Scatter the nuts on top, pressing gently to adhere. Sprinkle with sea salt. Let cool completely for several hours.

To remove the toffee from the pan, stab it with a butter knife near the corner to crack it and remove a piece. Continue to break off irregular pieces with your hands or remove the whole slab to a cutting board. Store the pieces in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Strawberry Rhubarb Crumb Bars

I think I've mentioned how much I love rhubarb: rhubarb pie, rhubarb crisp, rhubarb parfaits. I may be a minority on this, but I like my rhubarb to stand alone. However, in the interest of diversity on my blog, I offer you these Strawberry Rhubarb Crumb Bars. The rhubarb in our school garden is going gangbusters, and there's no way elementary school kids are going to eat it all unless it's mixed with something they know is good. Like strawberries. And a sweet crumbly topping. You have to earn their trust first, and then maybe you can subtract the berries. (Maybe.)


Strawberry-Rhubarb Crumb Bars   

This makes enough to feed a crowd. For a smaller group, halve the recipe and make it in an 8x8-inch pan. Prepare to eat it all within a few days as the moisture from the fruit tends to uncrisp the topping over time.

Dough
21/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided
1 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
12 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cold, cut into 6 pieces
2 oz. cream cheese
1 large egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (optional)
1/4 tsp. ground cardamom (optional)

Fruit
1/2 pound (2 cups) strawberries, hulled, halved, and thinly sliced
1 pound (4 cups) rhubarb, cut into roughly 1/2-inch thick pieces

1/2 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed
1 tablespoon lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch pan.

For the dough, put 2 cups of flour into the bowl of the food processor along with the brown sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add the butter and cream cheese, and pulse the motor until the mixture is moist and crumbly. Dump everything out into a medium bowl. Measure 3 cups of the mixture and add back to the food processor along with the remaining 1/2 cup of flour, egg, and vanilla. Blend just until it starts to come together into a dough. Press the clumps evenly into the pan. Bake for 10 minutes until puffy.

Meanwhile, combine the strawberries, rhubarb, brown sugar, and lemon juice in a large bowl. Spread the fruit in an even layer over the surface of the partially baked crust.

To the bowl of reserved streusel topping, add the walnuts and cardamom if desired, and work in with your fingers until pebbly. Sprinkle the topping over the surface of the fruit. Bake again for 40 to 50 minutes until the topping is light golden brown. Let cool completely before slicing. Store uncovered for a day or two to keep the streusel from getting soggy.

Source: Adapted from The Kitchn and The Tart Tart

Grapefruit Poppy Seed Cake

Well hi, long-lost readers! Did you think I disappeared for good? No such luck.

This was the post that was supposed to go up last week before we drove down the Cape for Easter, but then things got all biblical in the blogosphere. Typepad, my blog hosting service, was cyberattacked on the eve of Good Friday, rendering thousands of blogs inaccessible, mine included. FotF was resurrected on Saturday, then crucified again on Easter Sunday in ironic fashion.

We were too busy eating quiche and jellybeans to really care on Easter. I sort of noticed on Monday, but then promptly forgot because the Boston Marathon was so exciting! Americans like Meb and Shalane digging deep for #BostonStrong was an amazing thing to watch. But then on Tuesday, when service was still down, I definitely noticed. I needed to write. Was my blog coming back? Ever?

I hadn't considered a scenario in which you could actually lose access to all of your work indefinitely. I took it for granted that my eight years worth of words and pictures would always be there until I died and stopped paying the bills. Now I wonder: is that really true?

FotF seems to be running smoothly at the moment, so thank you for your patience. Also, thanks to Typepad for pulling those all-nighters. Hopefully, that's the last time this happens, but if you should arrive here to find a big empty space again in the future, check my Twitter or Facebook feeds for status updates. I also have a space on Medium that can serve as my emergency backup blog in a pinch. Because there ain't no emergency like a food blog emergency.

Anyway, here's that cake. You're probably guessing it's Lemon Poppy Seed, and you're close but no cigar. This version is made with grapefruit, an adaptation of the Grapefruit Buttermilk Cake in my book. It's tender and moist with a subtle, citrusy flavor. The 8YO adores it. It's something sweet and bright and hopeful. Just do me a favor and don't give any to the hackers. No cake for them.

 
Grapefruit Poppy Seed Cake    

I prefer tart white and pink grapefruits for baking, but the sweeter red grapefruits will also work.

Cake
1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar
1 teaspoon finely grated grapefruit zest (shiny yellow or pink part only)
1 cup (225 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
11/3 cups (190 g) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (125 ml) buttermilk
1 tablespoon poppy seeds

Syrup
1/3 cup (80 ml) freshly squeezed grapefruit juice (from about 1/2 grapefruit)
1/3 cup (70 g) granulated sugar

Icing
1 tablespoon grapefruit juice
1/2 cup (65 g) confectioners’ sugar

Preheat the oven to 325°F (165°C). Butter a 91/2 x 51/2-inch (24 x 14-cm) loaf pan. Tear out a sheet of parchment paper. Fold it in half or thirds so that it can lie inside the whole width of the pan, ends hanging over the long sides of the pan. This paper hammock makes it easier to lift the cake out of the pan later.

For the cake, mix the sugar with the grapefruit zest in a small bowl. Rub the mixture together with your fingers so the zest releases its oils.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter with the sugar mixture until fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well and scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. Add the vanilla and mix again.

Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt into a medium bowl. Add one third of the dry ingredients to the sugar mixture and mix on low speed just until combined. Alternate adding the buttermilk and the rest of the dry ingredients in halves to the sugar mixture, mixing until just combined and scraping down the sides of the bowl in between. Add the poppy seeds with the final addition of dry ingredients. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan.

Bake the cake for 55 to 60 minutes or until the top is golden and puffed, and a toothpick inserted into the center of cake comes out clean. Remove the cake from the oven and let it cool for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, for the syrup, combine the grapefruit juice and sugar in a small saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Boil the syrup 1 minute and then remove it from the heat. With a toothpick or skewer, poke holes all over the top of the cake. Pour the syrup over the cake, a little at a time, brushing it with a pastry brush to ensure even soaking. When all of the syrup has been added, let the cake cool completely. To remove the cake from the pan, lift up the edges of the parchment paper and set the cake on a plate, then slide the paper out from underneath.

For the glaze, whisk together the remaining 1 tablespoon of grapefruit juice with the confectioners’ sugar until smooth. You want the consistency to be loose enough to drizzle, but not so thin that it soaks into the cake. If it’s too thin, add more sugar. If it’s too thick, whisk in some water a few drops at a time. Drizzle the icing over the top of the cake with a whisk (if it dribbles over the sides, all the better). The cake can be stored at room temperature covered in plastic wrap for 2 to 3 days.

Pistachio and Cardamom Meringues

Ever since my friend Red made Ottolenghi's cinnamon and hazelnut meringues for a dinner party, I've been dreaming about their sweet, cloud-like forms. I love anything with nuts and meringue. Just say the word dacquoise and I swoon.

Recently, I found myself with a backlog of egg whites in the freezer, and if there's anything that makes Husband crazy, it's random little Tupperware containers of things kicking around that he claims I'll never use. But I will use them. You bet I will! Quickly, before he chucked them in the trash or out the window, I got my hands on that Ottolenghi recipe. I made a few changes, substituting regular table sugar for the caster sugar and dark brown sugar for the turbinado since that's all I had. Then I flavored the meringues with pistachios and cardamom instead.

Boy, was I smitten. I can't imagine a more regal treatment for those precious not-forgotten egg whites. Gluten-free folks, take note—these are excellent. Keep them in mind for Easter, when they'll serve as a more elegant, grown-up version of marshmallow Peeps. They'll also work for Passover.

Move over coconut macaroons!

 

Pistachio and Cardamom Meringues    

My only stipulation for meringues is that they be soft in the middle. Hard, chalky, dried-out meringues get no love from me.

7 large egg whites
1-1/3 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 cup pistachios, roughly chopped

Preheat the oven to 225°F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Place the egg whites and both of the sugars in the bowl of a stand mixer and whisk together. Put about an inch of water in a small pot and bring it to a simmer over medium heat. Reduce the heat to low, and rest the bowl on top of the pot making sure the bottom of the bowl doesn't touch the water. Stir the mixture occasionally as it heats until the sugar dissolves, about 5 minutes. Rub some of the mixture between your fingers to make sure you can't feel any sugar crystals. If you still feel some grit, you can put it back on the heat, stirring, for a few minutes longer, but you don't want the mixture to overheat. Remove the bowl from the heat before it gets too hot to touch.

Fasten the bowl back to the stand mixer. With the whisk attachment, whip the mixture on medium-high for about 8 minutes until it cools and the meringue is firm, glossy, and holds its shape when you lift up a bit with your spoon. Mix in the ground cardamom. Using a large spoon, scoop up an apple-sized amount and use another spoon to scrape it onto the lined cookie sheets. Space them an inch or two apart and sprinkle with nuts.

Bake for about 1-1/2 to 1-3/4 hours, until the meringues are crisp and dry on the outside, but still a little soft in the center. Poke your finger through the bottom of one of them to be sure they're done to your liking. They should not be brown in any way. Remove from the oven and let cool completely. Store the meringues covered at room temperature. Makes about 20.

Source: Adapted from Ottolenghi: the Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi

Salted Dark Chocolate Tart

As I mentioned before, it was my dad's birthday over the weekend. I usually make baklava, per his request, but this year he wanted to try something different.

He picked up my book (proudly on display on his coffee table for all of his cats to see), and picked out the Salted Dark Chocolate Tart (page 83). He loves chocolate and pistachios, so it was a logical choice. Also, it's rich and delicious. I knew he would like it, and I know I like it, and even the kids were enthusiastic about it once they scraped all the pistachios off. Or maybe they ate two pieces each because they were just so glad to be done with their death march around Sturbridge Village. Either way, we capped off a nice afternoon of barbecue and American history with what essentially is a chocolate truffle pie. And now I'm offering the recipe here. Because I know some of you aren't going to buy my book, but I love you anyway.

Also, want to know what makes a great serving plate for desserts in a pinch? The rotating plate on the inside of your microwave. It's perfectly flat, and the textured, tempered glass almost reads as "fancy." You'll want to clean it off first, of course. Spaghetti sauce splatters detract from the presentation and flavor, but it's nothing a little soapy water and some elbow grease can't handle. Just a little bachelor wisdom from my dad I'm passing on to you!

Salted Dark Chocolate Tart    

The recipe is straight out of my cookbook, except I'm substituting a potentially easier way to make the crust. Have at it!

Crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup cold unsalted butter (1 stick), cut into 8 pieces
1 to 2 tablespoons milk
Few drops of vanilla

Filling
1-1/3 cups bittersweet chopped chocolate or chocolate chips
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon Chambord or crème de cassis (optional)
1-1/4 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Topping
1 to 2 pinches large, coarse-grained sea salt, like Maldon or Fleur de Sel
2 tablespoons finely chopped pistachios (optional)

For the crust, add the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, and salt to the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter pieces and pulse in 1-second beats until you have chunks of butter the size of peas, 8 to 10 pulses. Add 1 tablespoon of milk with a few drops of vanilla through the feed tube, and pulse until the dough starts to clump. If it doesn't clump after 12 pulses, dribble in the remaining tablespoon of milk a little at a time, pulsing the motor after each addition, until the mixture clumps together. (You can also cut the butter into the dry ingredients with an electric mixer, a pastry blender, or your fingers. Add the milk in increments, fluffing with a fork, until the dough holds together when pressed.) Dump the dough onto the counter and form it into a ball. Flatten it into a disk about 3/4-inch thick and wrap it in plastic wrap. Let the dough rest in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Roll out the dough on a well-floured surface into a circle about 1/4-inch thick and 12 inches in diameter. With a bench scraper or spatula, flip one side of the dough over the top of the rolling pin, gently loosening the dough if it sticks to the counter, until it is fully draped over the pin. Center the dough over a 10-inch tart pan and unfurl. Gently fit the dough into the corners of the pan without stretching it. Clip off the excess dough by rolling the pin over the top. Gently press the dough against the sides of the pan with your fingers so the dough level rises slightly above the pan's edge to compensate for shrinkage. Use the scraps to reinforce any areas that are too thin. Poke the bottom crust with a fork about a dozen times. Line the dough with aluminum foil. Fill with pie weights all the way to the sides to keep the dough from shrinking (dried beans or rice work well). Bake the crust for 20 minutes, and then carefully remove the foil and weights. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes more, or until the bottom crust is cooked and dry. Let it cool completely before filling.

For the filling, combine the chocolate, sugar, salt, and Chambord in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan, heat the cream and butter until the butter has melted and the cream is hot with some bubbles forming around the edges. Do not boil. Pour the cream mixture over the chocolate and let it sit for 1 minute. Gently whisk just until smooth so as not to create air bubbles. Pour the filling into the tart shell and set it on an even surface in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours, or until firm.

Just before serving, sprinkle the tart with sea salt, or ground pistachios, or both! The tart can be stored covered in the refrigerator for 1 to 2 days, but the salt will start to break down (totally edible, just not as pretty).

Source: Adapted from WINTERSWEET by yours truly.

The Best Plain Doughnuts You Will Ever Make

A few weeks ago, I promised the kids I'd make doughnuts if school was cancelled on account of the big bad blizzard that was predicted to slam the Boston area. But Waltham turned out to be one of the only communities NOT to preemptively declare a day off for the 2 inches of snow we ended up getting (the Cape got slammed, not us). So to celebrate prudence and restraint on the part of the Waltham public schools, I decided to exercise my own version of prudence and restraint by making doughnuts anyway.


As I'm sure you all know, I love doughnuts. Yes, I do believe this has come up before. My favorites are old-fashioned cake doughnuts, but I can be tempted by any doughnut, anytime. That means I have eaten a lot of disappointing doughnuts in my day. So when I say that the particular doughnuts pictured above are the best plain doughnuts I've had in recent memory, I'm speaking from a place of experience. They are damn good doughnuts and you can make them yourself. These are not squishy, yeast-raised doughnuts a la Krispy Kreme. These are crusty and craggily on the outside, tender and cakey on the inside with a hint of nutmeg. The secret to the tender crumb is sour cream and a quick rest in the refrigerator before frying. You don't want them to be perfectly round and smooth. Perfectly round and smooth equals machine-made doughnuts. You're making these with your own two hands—let your hands take the credit.

The kids go crazy for the glazed version, but I love them plain best of all.




Old-Fashioned Plain Doughnuts    

This recipe makes 8 or 9 doughnuts and holes. There's probably not quite enough glaze for the whole batch, but that's because you need to keep some plain for me, for when I arrive unannounced through the chimney for my late morning doughnut fix.

1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
2 large egg yolks
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
2/3 cup sour cream
Vegetable or canola oil, for frying

With an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar together for 1 minute on medium speed until sandy. Add the egg yolks and beat for 2 minutes more until light and fluffy, scraping down the bowl as necessary. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg together in a medium bowl. Add 1/3 of the dry ingredients to the sugar mixture and mix until just combined. Alternate adding half of the sour cream and half of the remaining dry ingredients, mixing on low just until combined. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Heat the oil (2-3 inches deep) in a large, heavy bottomed pot until a candy thermometer reaches 350 F. Turn out the dough onto a floured counter and roll out to a thickness of 1/2 inch. Using a 3-1/4-inch biscuit cutter or drinking glass, cut out as many circles as you can, flouring the cutter to prevent sticking. Gently pat together and reroll the scraps to make additional doughnuts. Use a 1-1/4-inch biscuit cutter to cut out the centers. (Don't have a cutter that size? Poke a hole with your finger and twirl the doughnut around on the floured counter until the hole is the size you want. You'll just have to forego the munchkins.)

Add the dough to the hot oil in batches of 2 or 3, being careful not to crowd the pot and drive the oil temperature down. After a few seconds, the doughnuts will float to the top. Fry for 75 to 90 seconds until golden brown and cracked. Flip and fry the other side for 60 to 75 seconds until golden. Transfer to a rack set over a pan lined with paper towels to drain. For best results, ice as soon as possible while still warm.

A note on frying: Do not splash the dough into the hot oil. You will burn yourself and hate me forever. Dip one end of the dough into the oil, then let the top fall towards the back of the pot, so the splash goes away from you, while simultaneously moving your hand away. Same goes for the doughnut holes. Don't plop them all in or you'll be sorry. Find a slotted spoon and lower the dough balls into the oil, then gently wiggle the spoon out from underneath.

Glaze
2 cups confectioners' sugar
1 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoons sour cream
3-4 tablespoons hot water

In a medium bowl, whisk together the confectioners' sugar, honey, and sour cream. Whisk in the hot water, starting with just 3 tablespoons and then dribbling in only as much additional water as it takes to make a smooth, runny glaze that still coats the back of a spoon well. If the slurry ends up too runny, add more confectioners' sugar. Dip the warm doughnuts into the glaze, one side at a time, letting the excess run off for a few seconds. Allow the doughnuts to dry completely on a rack until the glaze crisps up, at least 15 to 20 minutes.

Local Sources:
Sour cream, butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA
Honey: Boston Honey Company, Reseska Apiaries, Holliston, MA

Goat Cheese Ice Cream

I love the public library for many reasons, one of which is free access to a huge collection of cookbooks. I take great pleasure in parasitizing old and new releases alike, serendipitously latching onto a select few food titles and not letting go. Sometimes they're not exactly what I expected once I get them home, but other times, they're so much more.

Such was Rustica: A Return to Spanish Home Cooking. I have a soft spot for Spain, having spent a formative period of my life exploring its less famous corners. The food in this cookbook is not necessarily the food I remember. It's more the style of the food that strikes me now, so in tune it is with the seasons and the local bounty. Not everything appeals to me (Cold octopus terrine? No, thank you.), but much of it does. White beans with wild mushrooms. Shrimp fritters. Simple tomato salad. Quince pies with ricotta and honey. I ended up flagging so many pages that I finally made Husband buy it for me for Valentine's Day (nothing spells love like a list of demands).

Last week, I made the goat cheese ice cream (helado de queso de cabra). I spooned some dried cherries soaked in anisette over the smooth, rich custard. Whoa. This ain't ice cream cone material. Save it for something special. One small scoop in a fancy bowl with a spoonful of cherries is all you need. Amazing!


Goat Cheese Ice Cream with Dried Cherries and Anisette     

The original recipe called for fresh cherries, but, since they're out of season at the moment, I substituted dried tart cherries and macerated them in anisette. It's lovely, but if you're not fond of anisette's licorice flavor, feel free to substitute brandy, red wine, or water.

5 large egg yolks
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 1/2 cups heavy cream
8 oz. soft goat cheese, crumbled
3 oz. dried cherries
4 oz. anisette

In a large bowl, mix the egg yolks and sugar until combined. (Save the leftover egg whites in the freezer for macaroons or pavlovas.)

Pour the cream into a small saucepan and heat it over medium heat. As soon as it comes to a boil, remove the pan from the heat. Gradually whisk about 1/2 cup of the hot cream into the egg mixture to temper the eggs and prevent them from scrambling. Slowly whisk the egg mixture into the pot of cream. Heat the mixture over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until it thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon. Do not let it boil. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the goat cheese. Let cool completely. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. Pour into a container and freeze until scoopable, 6 to 8 hours.

For the cherry topping, simmer the dried cherries in the anisette in a small saucepan for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the cherries are soft and the liquid is reduced to a syrup. Remove from the heat and chill until cold. (I like the resulting subtle anise flavor, but for a stronger hit, add a splash of anisette off the heat.) Serve a scoop of ice cream with a tablespoon or two of cherries and syrup drizzled over the top.

Source: Adapted from Rustica: A Return to Spanish Home Cooking by Frank Camorra and Richard Cornish

Local Ingredients:
Goat cheese: Vermont Butter & Cheese Creamery, Websterville, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA

Magic

What was I up to this week besides being sad? Stuffing myself senseless with magic bars, that's what. I did a little Christmas shopping, too, in between binges (plenty of time for resolutions later). But what I didn't do were my Christmas cards. At this point, they'll never arrive on time even if Rudolph himself delivers them, so if you're wondering where yours is, that's where.

I'm rerunning this recipe for magic bars because I'm still not in a writing sort of mood, plus I've adjusted the recipe slightly since my original post five years ago. More people know these as magic bars, but I will always call them seven-layer cookies because that's what Nonni called them when she made them for Christmas every year. Whatever you call them, they continue to be a favorite, and who couldn't use a little more magic in their lives.

Magic Bars (or Seven-Layer Cookies) (print-friendly version)

This is probably the easiest cookie recipe there is, perfect for bake sales and gifts.

1-1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs (or 14 whole graham crackers crushed)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
12-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips
12-ounce package butterscotch chips
2 cups walnut halves
2 cups shredded sweetened coconut
14-ounce can condensed milk

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter a 9x13-inch pan.

Mix the graham cracker crumbs with the melted butter and press onto the bottom of the pan. Pour the chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and walnuts on top, distributing evenly. Sprinkle the coconut over the top. Drizzle the condensed milk evenly over everything.

Bake about 20 minutes, until some of the coconut develops toasty tips and the condensed milk along the edges starts to caramelize. Cut the hot cookies into squares no bigger than an inch and a half (they're very sweet), which will allow for easier cutting later. Let cool completely and refrigerate until ready to serve. Recut along the lines.

Cracking the Recipe: The Local's Peanut Butter Pie

Recently, the whole family went to The Local in Newton where the fried pickles are good and the macaroni and cheese is even better.  (Holy crap, their mac 'n' cheese is good, and I don't even like mac 'n' cheese.  It's on par with Silvertone's, in my opinion, so if you don't feel like driving into Boston to luxuriate in a bowl of cheesy mac, now you know: West Newton, baby.)

Anyway, TeenNiece ordered the peanut butter pie for dessert.  She really liked it.  Later on, I noticed, peanut butter pie kept coming up in conversation.  I suggested that maybe we should try to make one ourselves.  Peanut butter is something we always have on hand, after all.  And chocolate.  At least for a little while. 

TeenNiece and I worked on this together, and what we came up with is a little bit dangerous: peanut butter mousse in a salted peanut-graham cracker crust with thick ribbons of bittersweet chocolate sauce poured on top. Consider what your waistline is worth to you before you commit to making this pie.   It's somewhat airier than the version we had at The Local (maybe ease up on the whipped cream if you want to get picky about the details), but TeenNiece likes it this way so that's how it's going to stay.


Peanut Butter Pie with Bittersweet Chocolate Sauce

Inspired by The Local, 1391 Washington St., West Newton, MA

Crust
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
1 cup graham cracker crumbs (or 10 whole graham crackers crushed)
1/3 cup dry-roasted, salted peanuts, ground in the food processor

Filling
1 8-oz. package cream cheese
3/4 cup confectioner's sugar
3/4 cup smooth peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla
3/4 cup heavy cream

Sauce
1/3 cup heavy cream
4 oz. bittersweet chocolate chips (like Ghirardelli) or shaved chocolate
Pinch of sea salt
1/2 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 F.  For the crust, combine the melted butter, graham cracker crumbs, and ground peanuts.  Press into a 9-inch pie dish and bake 7-9 minutes until edges start to color and you can smell the peanutty aroma.  Set aside and let cool.

For the filling, beat the cream cheese and sugar with the paddle attachment of a stand mixer until smooth.  Mix in peanut butter and vanilla.  In a separate medium bowl, beat the cream with a whisk or electric mixer until stiff peaks form.  Stir about a half cup of the whipped cream into the peanut butter mixture, then gently fold in the rest of the whipped cream just until no longer streaky.  Carefully pour the mousse into the crust and chill at least 3 hours or overnight.

For the sauce, combine cream, chocolate, and salt in a small saucepan and simmer for 2 minutes.  Remove from heat and stir in vanilla.  Transfer to small bowl and let cool.  If the sauce starts to separate or you want it a little thinner, whisk in a bit of extra cream until smooth.  When ready to serve, reheat just enough to get a pourable consistency (don't pour hot molten fudge on your nicely chilled pie).  To serve, ribbon chocolate sauce over each slice of pie, letting it puddle on the sides.

Local Sources:
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT

Rhubarb-Blood Orange Parfaits

Last year, I saw a sudden spike in my blog traffic and, come to find out, Tori Spelling had tweeted about my rhubarb pie post.  Yes, that Tori Spelling. 

It really threw me for a loop.  You mean to tell me the busty Beverly Hills 90210 teen star cooks?  With rhubarb?  And is able to spell it correctly?  These were the thoughts that instantly ran through my head, proving that not only am I a judgmental a-hole, but I also confuse actors with their television roles, despite knowing better, and simultaneously freeze them in time—say, 1992 in this case.  For all I know, the actual Tori Spelling of 2011 in whatever zip code she currently resides is super-smart and a fantastic cook and a warm and wonderful person unspoiled by wealth and fame.  And if that's true then fuck you, Tori Spelling.  You can't have rhubarb, too!  Save something for the rest of us!!!

Over here in Waltham 02453, my modest success this week was helping somebody who didn't like rhubarb to like rhubarb.  (My victories are small but sweet!)  The idea behind these rhubarb-blood orange parfaits is to layer lightly sweetened rhubarb compote with fresh whipped cream.  It's a lovely balance of sweet/tart, and a nice prelude to strawberry shortcake.   Keeping the layers separate provides more flavor contrast while folding them together mellows the rhubarb tang.  If you've ever heard of a dessert called a "fool," that's what it is: cooked, sweetened fruit lightened with whipped cream.  As in, I pity the fool that doesn't like rhubarb fool!  Anyway, I've been dying to try this with wild Japanese knotweed, but I keep missing the window of time when the shoots are young and tender.  Too busy chasing down mushrooms, I guess. 

What I'm trying to say is, Rhubarb Haters and/or Shannen Doherty, this one's for you! 

 

Rhubarb-Blood Orange Parfaits

You can use a regular orange, of course, but I found that the blood orange deepened the color of the fruit compote, making for prettier contrasting layers.

1-1/2 lb. rhubarb, washed, trimmed, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 cup sugar
1 medium blood orange, zested (about 1 tsp.) and juiced (2-3 Tbsp.)
1 tsp. vanilla
Pinch salt
2 cups heavy cream, cold

Place rhubarb in a medium saucepan with all but 1-2 Tbsp. of the sugar (reserve remaining sugar for whipped cream).  Add orange zest, juice, vanilla, and salt, and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat.  Reduce heat slightly and gently simmer 7-10 minutes until rhubarb is soft but still chunky.  Let cool.  Transfer to medium bowl and refrigerate several hours until chilled.

Just before serving, whisk the heavy cream in a medium bowl until the wires leave trails.  Add the remaining sugar and continue whisking until thick and an upswing of the whisk leaves medium peaks.  To assemble, layer rhubarb mixture and whipped cream in each of four bowls, beginning with rhubarb and ending with cream.  Serve immediately.

Source: Adapted from Raquel Pelzel.

Local Sources:
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Bowl: The Concord Shop, Concord, MA

National Pie Day: Banoffee Pie

Did you know that yesterday was National Pie Day?  Don't ask me why they picked January of all months to formally celebrate pie instead of midsummer when fresh, seasonal fruit is readily available.  But who am I to argue with the people who come up with arbitrary holidays for marketing reasons?  I like pie!

My plan for Sunday was to present you with a recipe for banoffee pie, a seductive variation on banana cream pie with a silky caramel filling reminiscent of dulce de leche.  It's a popular dessert in Britain and other places where British influence lingers.  The recipe I was working with came straight from my sister's South African mother-in-law, who has all kinds of delicious things in her repertoire.  But, for some reason, which I chalked up to inaccurate metric conversions or possible hemispheric differences, the filling only worked for me half the time.  One day I'd make it, and it would be perfection.  The next, it would be a soupy mess.  It went on like this for years.  Finally, I decided I would get to the bottom of the problem once and for all.  On National Pie Day 2011.

I reviewed my notes from previous attempts and proceeded to make the first pie.  The result: pie soup.  So, I made another pie.  That one ended up with a filling as firm as fudge.  Good for fudge, bad for pie.  I cursed and cursed, but at least I had the two extremes mapped out.  I continued to zero in on the sweet spot, making adjustments to the amount of liquid and heat in the recipe.  The clock, however, was ticking on National Pie Day.  I considered posting my best recipe guess without retesting it.  But what if it failed again?  I could just see the police arriving to tape off my comment section.  Or maybe they would be too mad about their failed pies to even bother. 

In the end, quality trumped punctuality.  National Pie Day passed me by.  This morning, after letting the fricking freezing morning air slap me across the face a few times, I retested the filling based on my new hypotheses.  Twice.  Both were winners.  So now you have a confirmed recipe for banoffee pie.  It's a day late, but less likely to leave you a dollar short.  And after all, in the real world, Pie Day is any day you want. 


Banoffee Pie

Make the crust and caramel filling ahead.  Then, slice the bananas and whip the cream just before serving (or no more than a few hours in advance so the bananas don't brown).  Plan on eating the whole pie at serving time since it doesn't keep well.  Your guests won't require much convincing.

Crust
4 oz. (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
2 cups finely ground graham cracker crumbs

Filling
5 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1/4 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup condensed milk (6 oz.)
1 cup heavy cream
5 bananas

For the crust, mix melted butter with graham crackers crumbs, and press into 9-inch pie plate or tart pan.  (I actually like to rub cold butter into graham cracker crumbs to make a more cohesive dough, but this takes more time.  Your call.)

In a small saucepan, melt butter and brown sugar over low heat, stirring constantly.  When mixture starts to foam up to a simmer, stir in condensed milk.  Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat.  This is where you need to pay attention.  Turn down heat and simmer, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes.  Set a timer.  While you're stirring, scrape every inch of the bottom and sides of the pot to prevent scorching and unsightly lumps.  When the spoon starts to leave a trail on the bottom of the pot, around 2 minutes, remove from heat.  More than 3 minutes and you'll end up with something too stiff to be enjoyable in pie.  Pour caramel over crust.  Let cool in refrigerator for 45 minutes. 

When ready to serve, whip cream in a large bowl with a whisk or electric mixer (no sweetener necessary).  Stop when the cream mounds softly and forms soft peaks when you lift up the whisk.  I try to stop before the cream goes from smooth to rough and rumpled,  almost styrofoamy in appearance.  It's still edible at this point, but not as texturally pleasing.  If you go much beyond that, you'll end up with waxy butter flecks in your cream.  I made that mistake my third day in culinary school and I shan't make it again.

Slice bananas and pile on top of caramel.  Top with whipped cream.  Dust with cocoa if desired.  Devour.

Note: You may substitute canned dulce de leche for the homemade caramel filling.  Use caution, though, when using jars of charming, locally made, farm-fresh cajeta, which are typically too runny.  Save that ambrosia for another purpose, like drizzling over ice cream.

Local Ingredient Sources
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Snow Day 3: Maple Sugar on Snow

By the third snow day, I was pretty ready to be done with snow.  We had already spent the past two days doing every possible no-cost snow activity I could think of: shoveling, sledding, snowball fights, snow-fort construction, snow-fort demolition, and my personal favorite: cramming as much snow as possible up the sleeves of our coats and then crying about it. 

Still, we had all that beautiful snow, so I decided to try something new: making maple taffy (also known as maple sugar on snow).  Have you heard of it?  Basically, it's a soft candy made by heating up maple syrup to a certain point and then rapidly cooling it down.  That's where the snow comes in: you pour the hot syrup directly onto the snow.  Then, once cool, you take a popsicle stick and roll the taffy onto the end like a lollipop.  The cold temperature of the snow cools the taffy into a soft, sticky mass.  The snow also tends to stick to the taffy, making it as icy cold as it is sweet. 

A half cup of maple syrup makes a snack for 4 to 6.  Scope out an area of snow that is clean and not yellow ahead of time.  You want the snow at least two inches deep as the top layer will melt and sink when the hot syrup comes in contact with it.  You need a candy thermometer, a small pot, and a willingness to babysit the pot as it boils to make sure that the syrup doesn't bubble up and over the sides of the pot.  It really wants to.  Just lower the heat as necessary.  When the syrup reaches a temperature range of 234° to 238°F (recipes vary), turn off the heat and immediately bring the pot and your popsicle sticks outside.  Pour the syrup onto the snow in lines about 6 inches long.  Adhere a popsicle stick to one end of the amber ribbon and roll it onto itself.  Rest it in the snow while you complete the others.  Eat immediately (off its icy bed, the taffy tends to fall apart).  Once you're done, you can use the stick to dig any residual maple syrup out of the snow and eat it like a snow cone.  For me, this was half the fun. 

So there it is: possibly the only exception to the "Don't Eat Yellow Snow" rule!

 

Local Ingredient Sources:

Maple syrup: Williams Farm Sugarhouse, Old Deerfield, MA

Foolproof Chocolate Fudge

I thought I had given you all of my holiday recipes, but it turns out that I forgot the most important one of all.  Fudge! 

As you know, I make fudge every holiday season without fail.  No Christmas is complete without the requisite fudge-packing jokes.  This particular fudge recipe is the same one I’ve been making since high school.  My dad brought home a plate of holiday cookies from a company party in the late eighties, and I immediately zeroed in on the fudge.  For weeks, I badgered him to get the recipe.  I nagged him as only a 16-year-old adolescent female with a cocaine-like chocolate addiction can (count your blessings, Dad).  Finally, he tracked down the source of the fudge, and she wrote out the instructions.  I still have her original hand-written note, though I never got her name.  With the secrets to delicious fudge in my possession, I could presumably get back to the important business of shellacking my entire head in a candy-like shell of Aqua Net.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized there was a slight error in the recipe.  The following was written in the ingredient list: "¼ cup (1 stick) butter."  Since I’m a parenthetical kind of girl, I used 1 stick.  Well, ¼ cup is actually half a stick of butter, but my high-school self didn’t catch the mistake.  My early-thirties self didn’t either, so I’ve been making this stuff extra delicious for years!  Still do.

I hesitate to use the word foolproof with any recipe, especially for fudge.  Especially on the Internet.  I mean, anything can fail if you try hard enough.  This recipe is no different.  But it’s certainly more forgiving than most fudge recipes.  The small dose of corn syrup from the marshmallows prevents the sugar from recrystallizing in a coarse, grainy fashion, ensuring a nice, creamy texture.  If you’re good at stirring, then you can make this fudge.  You don’t even need a candy thermometer.  (Now before you write off this recipe as substandard because it doesn’t use a candy thermometer, I’ll have you know that I made a batch yesterday WITH a candy thermometer just for kicks, and guess what?  It still works.  As long as you live at sea level and don’t double the recipe, five minutes of hard boiling will get you to the soft-ball stage.)

Now that I’m older and snobbier, it has occurred to me that maybe I should move to a fancier, non-marshmallow-based recipe.  But why?  Everybody loves this fudge.  They tell me it’s the best fudge they’ve ever had.  I, for one, can eat a whole pan on my own.  I certainly pay my dues with the other candy I make this time of year, a time-consuming and finicky praline-ish butter-pecan fudge (also known as Boston cream candy).  I figure I’ve been making this version of chocolate fudge for 20 years and I’m probably not going to change.  Not unless you can direct me to a recipe that calls for two whole sticks of butter! 

Happy New Year!

 

Fudge

The better the chocolate you use, the better the resulting fudge.

1 cup (6 oz.) semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 tsp. vanilla
2¼ cups sugar
1 stick unsalted butter (or half!)
¾ cup evaporated milk
16 large marshmallows
¼ tsp. salt

Line an 8-inch square cake pan with foil.  Get your handheld electric mixer at the ready.  Also, have some oven mitts nearby.

To a large bowl, add chocolate chips and vanilla.  Set aside.  In a medium, 4-quart saucepan, add sugar, butter, milk, marshmallows, and salt.  Stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, bring to a boil over medium heat.  You want the marshmallows to be just about melted by the time the bubbling starts.  If they’re not, reduce the heat a bit until they do.  Bring mixture to a heavy boil and, always stirring, set the timer for 5 minutes.  Careful—hot mixture can spatter.  Use an oven mitt if necessary.  After 5 minutes, the temperature should be in the soft ball range (235°F-240°F). 

Remove pot from heat immediately, and carefully pour hot mixture over chocolate chips.  On a low speed, blend with mixer until uniformly brown.  Blending on high speed will introduce lots of air bubbles, which you don’t want.  Quickly pour fudge into your prepared pan.  Let cool until firm.  Makes 2 lbs.

Rhubarb Pie

Oh, my god, you guys, I am obsessed with rhubarb pie.  Obsessed!  Do you know how many rhubarb pies I’ve made in the past two weeks?  Three.  Three pies and nary a strawberry to be found in any of them.  Strawberries have their time and place, don’t get me wrong, but that time is when they’re raw and right out of the garden, and that place is far away from my rhubarb pies. 

This recipe comes from my friend, Cathy, whom I stalked until she gave it to me.  Yes, I’m back to my stalking ways.  Get it?  Rhubarb?  Stalks?  Shut up.  Her recipe is tart, the way I like my rhubarb, with a touch of cream, which is how I like pretty much everything.  I had to add a little more sugar to appease Husband, and double the flour because my particular rhubarb seemed to have a high water content.  I also added a lattice crust so you wouldn’t be subjected to a photo of a pie that looked like someone just vomited into a pie shell.  Now it looks like someone vomited into a pie shell and I added a decorative lattice crust!  But you know I never discriminate against ugly food on this blog.  Ugly food is the best food.

Make this pie.  Make it early and often.  And I know one of you is going to ask me if you can leave out the cream, and my answer, as always, is that you could, but why would you want to do a silly thing like that?

 

Rhubarb Pie

Yes, you can use a premade crust, but I won’t stop nagging you to make your own at least once.  Below is a recipe for a homemade butter crust.  Using half butter, half shortening will give you extra flakiness (the tradeoff is transfats).  Or you could make a lard crust.

Crust
2 cups flour
12 Tbsp. cold butter, cut into pieces
1 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. salt
8-10 Tbsp. ice water (or more)

Filling
1 lb. rhubarb, cut into 3/4-inch pieces (3½-4 cups)
¾ cup sugar
¼ cup flour
¼ tsp. salt
½ cup heavy cream
1 Tbsp. lemon juice

For the crust, mix flour, sugar, and salt in food processor.  Add cold butter and pulse in 1-second beats until butter is the size of small peas (around 20 pulses).  Dump mixture into a large bowl and add ice water, a few tablespoons at a time, fluffing with a fork until gently absorbed.  You don’t want it wet and sticky, but if there’s too much dry flour, the dough won’t come together right.  It should just hold together when you press on it.  Don’t knead or it will become too tough.  Tear off two pieces of plastic wrap.  Dump a little over half of the dough mixture in the middle of one, and the rest in the middle of the other.  Folding over the sides of the plastic wrap, flatten the mixture into disks about an inch thick, then wrap them up, and refrigerate at least an hour or until ready to use.

Preheat oven to 450°F.  Have your 9-inch pie plate at the ready.  In a large bowl, toss rhubarb with sugar, flour, and salt.  In a small bowl, whisk together cream and lemon juice and set aside.  Retrieve your pie dough from the fridge.  Flour your counter and rolling pin well.  The dough shouldn’t stick at all.  Take the larger disk and roll it out about ¼-inch thick, about a foot in diameter.  Roll from the middle out in all directions.  Don’t grind the dough down into the counter—push it out to the sides.  If the dough sticks, sprinkle more flour.  Transfer to your pie dish by lifting the edge of the dough over the top of the rolling pin.  Gently lift and push until the dough is draped over the rolling pin (a bench scraper or even a spatula under the dough really helps).  Align dough over pie plate and gently unfurl.

Dump rhubarb mixture into pie shell.  There will be a small pile of sugar and flour in the middle.  Redistribute evenly.  Pour cream mixture over the top evenly.  Roll out the second pie crust the same way as the first, only slightly smaller.  Using a pastry wheel or sharp knife, cut thin strips for a lattice topping.  Arrange strips like so.  Fold over edges of bottom crust and crimp however you like.   Place in oven on top shelf with a baking sheet on the bottom shelf to catch any drips.  Bake 20 minutes.  Reduce heat to 350°F and bake until bubbly, puffed, and crust is richly caramelized, about 45 minutes more.  Keep an eye on the crust—if it starts to brown too much, cover with foil.

Let cool.  Serve with vanilla bean ice cream.

Local Sources:
Rhubarb: Verrill Farm, Concord, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Phyllo Isn’t Scary

Okay, let’s cut the chitchat and get to a recipe for a change. 

It was my dad’s, um, 49th birthday over the weekend, so I had to get off my lazy butt and make him some baklava.  His words, not mine.  This is one of the very best things that I make, so you can pretty much stop reading me after this (finally, right?).  It ranks right up there with this, and reminds me, lest I forget, of my character flaws where my sweet tooth is concerned. 

Baklava isn’t particularly hard.  It’s just a little time-consuming so I usually reserve it for special occasions.  And though phyllo has a reputation for being high-maintenance, it’s really not that bad.  Honest.  Personally, I think making pie dough without a food processor is way scarier.  In fact, when the Preschooler was a toddler, I had him help me by painting melted butter on each layer of phyllo with a wide brush.  He, of course, only wanted to paint the same spot over and over again until it was saturated and the bristles tore gashes through every single layer underneath.  But, it doesn’t matter.  No one’s checking every layer.  If a sheet breaks, just stick it back on there and keep going.  See:

For shame, Baklava.  Cover up your goodies!

Phyllo can be found in the freezer section, usually near the frozen pie crusts and such.  You’ll need to give it time to defrost (a few hours at room temperature or overnight in the fridge).  Some brands of phyllo come in sheets just the right size for a 9”x13” pan.  The stuff in the big, long yellow box, though, needs to be cut in half.  A pizza-cutter works great.  You’ll want to keep the dough covered in plastic wrap while you’re working, with a slightly damp towel on top of the plastic.  Then, you can pretty much take as long as you like to work.

Use whatever nuts or spices your heart desires.  Pistachios, almonds, acorns.  I’ve tailored this so it comes out just the way I like it.  To hell with all of you.  Walnuts, cardamom, enough sugar syrup so it’s drenched in sweetness, yet still crispy.  God, how does it stay crispy and moist at the same time? 

Witchcraft.  That’s how.  Wanna join my coven?

Baklava

I like to clarify the butter and make the sugar syrup ahead of time so everything is ready to assemble when opportunity strikes.

1 package phyllo dough, defrosted
3 sticks butter

Syrup:
2 cups sugar
1½ cups water
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
2 Tbsp. corn syrup

Filling:
1 10-oz. bag finely diced walnuts (2½ cups)
½ cup sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 tsp. cardamom

Melt butter.  Skim foam off the top and discard.  Pour off the pure butter into a clean container, stopping short of the cloudy white stuff at the bottom.  Discard the white solids, and set the yellow clarified butter aside.

Place sugar, water, lemon juice, and corn syrup in a small saucepan.  Over medium-low heat, stir until sugar dissolves.  Then increase heat, bring to boil, and simmer for 5 minutes.  Remove from heat, cool, and chill in refrigerator.

Mix walnuts, sugar, and spices in a medium bowl and set aside.

Preheat oven to 350ºF.  Arrange stack of phyllo sheets on plastic wrap and cover with more plastic wrap.  Set a slightly damp dishtowel on top of that.  Using a pastry brush (or unused paint brush, 1-inch or wider), brush 9”x13” glass baking dish with melted butter. 

Place one sheet in the bottom of the dish and brush with butter.  Repeat this process until you have 12 layers in the dish.  Spread half the walnut mixture evenly over the dough.  Add 8 more buttered phyllo sheets.  Spread the remainder of the walnut mixture.  Top with 12 more buttered layers. 

With a sharp knife, carefully cut diamond shapes all the way through the layers by cutting diagonally across one way, and then diagonally across in the other direction.  Pour any remaining butter over the top.  Bake for 30 minutes.  Then lower oven to 300ºF and continue baking for 45 minutes.  Cool 10 minutes.  Pour cold syrup evenly over warm pastry.  Let cool completely before serving.  Store at room temperature.

Carrot Cake for President

Wow.  Three whole days without posting.  That must be some kind of a new record for me.  If you must know, I’ve been very busy honoring our presidents, past and current.  But especially current.  God, I don’t think we’ll ever be able to top him.  Is there any way to keep him in there for a third term?  Any way at all?

Apparently, I’ve chosen to honor our presidents by eating all of the carrot cake I made for Husband for Valentine’s Day.  Presidents like cake, right?  And this exercise of honoring our presidents made me remember just how good this carrot cake is, which is why I’m back with the recipe. 

The single most important thing about this cake from Husband’s perspective is that it’s totally raisin-free.  Not a single raisin in sight, though there are pecans aplenty, which ought to make Jimmy Carter happy (what did he grow again?).  Lucky for FDR, there should be no Pearl Harbor flashbacks since there’s no pineapple or coconut or anything weird like that in here, either.  Just carrots.  Carrots in a cake aren’t weird.  Right, Bill Clinton?  And, of course, it has cream cheese frosting, which is the other obvious requirement.  And if anyone liked cheese, it was Calvin Coolidge.

I always make a habit of doubling frosting recipes.  Even my own, which I had already doubled the last time I made it and probably the time before that.  I hate the idea of running out.  This policy just guarantees that the cake gets better and better every year, just like our presidents.

Husband's Favorite Carrot Cake

1½ cups canola oil
2½ cups sugar
4 eggs, separated
5 Tbsp. hot water
2½ cups flour
1½ tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt
1 tsp. nutmeg
1 tsp. cinnamon
½ tsp. cloves
1½ cups grated carrots (about 3)
1 cup chopped pecans

Frosting
½ lb. butter, softened (2 sticks)
1 lb. cream cheese (2 bricks)
1½ lb. confectioner’s sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Grease two 9-inch circular cake pans.  Line bottoms with parchment paper and grease that, too.  Dust with flour by shaking it around the pan until it completely coats the bottom and sides.  Shake excess into the other pan and repeat, emptying the extra flour into the trash.  Set aside.

In a large bowl, mix oil and sugar until well blended.  Beat in the 4 eggs yolks.  Add the hot water and mix well, scraping down the sides.  In a large bowl, sift flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices.  Beat into sugar mixture until just combined.  Stir in carrots and nuts.  Batter will be very thick.

In a medium bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form.  Stir about a quarter of the egg whites directly into the batter to lighten it up.  Then, gently fold the rest of the egg whites into the batter.  Pour into cake pans to the same height and bake 50-60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out pretty cleanly (a few moist crumbs are okay).  Let cool.

To make frosting, whip together butter and cream cheese with an electric mixer.  Add confectioner’s sugar and mix until lumps are no longer of a worrisome size.  This varies from person to person.

To assemble, remove cakes from pans and arrange one cake on a plate.  Spread top with frosting and stack second cake on top.  Frost the sides, then the top.  If you’re getting crumbs in the frosting and it’s pissing you off, do a thin coat of frosting and then refrigerate.  That will lock in the crumbs so that you can use the remaining frosting to give it a final, crumb-free coat.  Decorate attractively.  Or stupidly.  It’s a free country.

Fudge Addict

When it comes to addictions (drugs, porn, farmers), you really have to be 100% disgusted with yourself before you can move on.  I know because that’s how it is for me every holiday season with fudge. 

I make two kinds: chocolate fudge and a sort of buttery, penuche-like fudge with pecans.  Then, I spend the remainder of the year trying to decide which I like better.  I can’t seem to break the horrible chain of events.  I make the fudge.  I eat the fudge.  I make fudge to give to someone else.  But, then I end up eating it.  So, I have to make more.  Which I then eat. 

So, that’s where I am at this point.  Thoroughly.  Completely.  Disgusted.

Send help.

 

Boston Cream Candy

You need a candy thermometer for this one.  Also, I hope you like stirring, because there’s going to be a lot of that.  A lot.  Furthermore, if you live at high altitudes, you’ll need to consult someone smarter than me to figure out how to adjust the temperature.  Or just hold off until you move to sea level.  It’s awesome down here.

4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, plus more for the pan
2/3 cup chopped pecan pieces
¾ tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 cups sugar
Pinch salt
½ cup light corn syrup
¼ cup half-and-half
¼ cup heavy cream

Butter an 8x8-inch baking pan.  Line the pan with enough parchment paper to hang over the sides.  Butter the paper, too, which will help it stick to the pan.  Have your pecans, baking soda, and vanilla all measured out and ready in their own little bowls by the stove.  Also, have your oven mitts and candy thermometer within arm’s reach.

In a heavy-based 3 qt. saucepan, combine the butter, sugar, salt, corn syrup, half-and-half, and cream.  Stir with a wooden spoon over low heat until all of the sugar is dissolved.  It takes a while and you can’t really tell by looking at it.  The best thing to do is drag your finger along the spoon and rub the mixture between your fingers.  Yes, it’s hot.  Listen, no one said addiction was going to be easy.  If there’s any graininess at all, keep stirring until it’s gone.

Once the sugar is dissolved, turn the heat to medium and cook, stirring, until the mixture foams to a boil.  Add the baking soda.  Lower the heat and stir like mad.  Your oven mitts are right there if you need them.  The mixture will double in volume, and then gradually subside and take on a golden hue.  At this point, hook your candy thermometer onto the pot.  Stir over medium-low heat until the temperature just registers 240°F.  It takes a while and will hover at 239°F before jumping up, so pay close attention.  You must remove the pot from the heat before it passes 240°F.

Okay, so with the pot off the heat, you can take out the candy thermometer so it doesn’t keep getting in the way of the stirring.  Which you need to keep doing, fast.  What you have will look like loose caramel sauce.  Add the vanilla and stir carefully (it may spit).  Add the pecans and continue stirring quickly.  Now, you really have to pay attention, again.  Keep stirring.  I’m serious, if you stop, you’re screwed.  You’ll notice that it seems to be getting thicker and lighter.  Then, it will start to make this squeaky, sticky candy sound.  I don’t know how else to describe it.  You’ll know it when you hear it.  When the spoon starts making a path on the bottom of the pot, you’re almost there.  Yes, keep stirring.

The moment you notice that the mixture is starting to lose its gloss and turn kind of matte, start pouring into your buttered baking dish.  You’ll have about 15 seconds to debate this with yourself.  If you wait too long to pour, the mixture will get too dry or, worse, harden in the pot.  If you stop stirring too soon, it might not solidify at all, so then you’ll have the best caramel sauce ever, but no fudge.  So, go ahead, make a decision.  I’m sure I’ll hear all about it in the comment section.  Let cool until fudge-like (you can refrigerate it), and cut into squares.

Die and go, hopefully, to heaven (or whatever other plans you might have for the afterlife).

Source: Fine Cooking, from an article written by Kay Fahey.

Cookbook Friday: Pecan Tassies

I found this 1940's picture of my great aunt Dava [Barbaresi] Catone, so I thought I’d post it even though it’s out of chronological order.  Dava is holding my Aunt Margaret, who was the daughter of her sister Dora [Barbaresi] and Freddie Donroe, before her baptism (I’m guessing it was before the blessed event since the baby seems peaceful and blissfully dry about the head). 

Dava was Margaret’s godmother, but what makes this picture astoundingly prophetic is that Margaret’s godfather, standing next to Dava, was her father’s brother, Albert Donroe.  Soon after, he became Margaret’s stepfather when his brother was killed in World War II.  Confused, yet?  The backstory is here, in case you missed it.  If that doesn’t help, maybe a cookie will.

Back to Dava.  Pecan tassies were among the fabulous cookies that she produced by the bushel for various family gatherings.  Others included: chocolate spice cookies, coconut meltaways, and chocolate chip cream cheese cookies.  More to come. 

These particular cookies are like bite-sized pecan pies, though I’d recommend spreading out the enjoyment over more than one bite or they’ll be gone WAY to fast.  That’s just me.  Baked as they are in miniature muffin tins, using paper liners will spare you some cursing later on when you try to pry them out.  Especially if you’re making them for something like a baptism (pssst…priests don’t like the cursing). 

These are one of my favorite Dava cookies.

Pecan Tassies

Crust
2 sticks oleo (or butter)
2 3-oz. packages of cream cheese (or shave 2 oz. off of an 8-oz. package)
2 cups flour

Filling
3 eggs
1 lb. brown sugar
3 Tbsp. melted oleo (or butter)
½ tsp. vanilla
1¾ cup chopped pecans
Dash salt

Preheat oven to 350°F.

For crust, cream together oleo and cream cheese in a large bowl.  Add flour gradually and mix with a fork.  Chill 2 hours (much longer and it will get annoyingly stiff).  Place a piece of dough the size of a walnut in muffin tins.  Does anyone know how big a walnut is anymore?  Think cherry tomato.  Press dough ball so that it forms a cup against the bottom and sides of the muffin liner.  The deeper the depression, the more filling can fit inside.  I’m just saying.

For the filling, beat eggs in another large bowl.  Add brown sugar, oleo, vanilla, and salt.  Sprinkle a few chopped nuts on the bottom of each dough cup, spoon filling almost to the top, and sprinkle with more nuts.  Bake at 350°F for 15 minutes, 325°F for 10 minutes.  Cool.  Remove from pan.

Makes four dozen.

Dava [Barbaresi] Catone
New Haven, Connecticut - Hamden, Connecticut
1921 - 1998

Next Recipe: Bambury Tarts

     (Previous Recipe: Chocolate Chip Cream Cheese Cookies)

Cookbook Friday-ish: Wands

Last week, the Preschooler informed me that on Fridays, all of our food must be fried.  The apple dumpling, it seems, didn’t fall far from the frying pan.  So, this past Friday (the day before the Eat Local Challenge), we made wands.

Wands are what Nonni, Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe, always calls these little strips of fried dough dusted in confectioner’s sugar.  But, the word doesn’t look Italian in the least, and for the life of me, I can’t find anything to support it or my great grandmother’s pronunciation, “ee-wands.”  So, who knows.  The Marchigianos are crazy.  I’m not sure you can believe anything they say.

You’ll need a pasta machine for these.  Part of the fun is to develop your own signature shape.  My great grandmother, Lydia [Belbusti] Barbaresi, used to make large circles by tracing a knife around a saucer, but her daughters started making them all sorts of crazy ways.  Nonni’s version had a style all its own: a few twists, if you will.  The recipe below is for her method.

These were always a personal favorite of mine.  Nonni knew this.  While everyone else was busy fighting over the cappellettis, and passatellis, and crescia, Nonni would pull out a HUGE Tupperware container of these things just for me.  I’ve never seen Tupperware that big before or since.  Now that I know how long it takes to make them, I realize that a grandmother’s love knows no bounds.

 

Wands

I’ve taken the liberty of cutting the recipe in half so you don’t find yourself in front of the frying pan for six hours.  If you have an army to feed, or are just Italian, feel free to double it back again.

2½ cups flour
1 Tbsp. granulated sugar
½ tsp. baking powder
3 eggs
¼ cup canola oil, plus more for frying
Confectioner’s sugar for dusting

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, and baking powder.  Make a well in the center, and add eggs and oil.  With a fork, gently beat the eggs and oil together.  Then, gradually mix in the dry ingredients, a little at a time, until too thick to stir.  Knead dough slightly until it holds together.  Cut into 8 pieces and cover until ready to use.

Set up pasta machine with rollers at their widest setting.  Using a rolling pin, roll out one piece of dough until thin enough to fit through the pasta machine.  Run it through, and then decrease the space between the rollers by one notch.  If pasta gets stuck, just back it up by cranking the lever in reverse, flatten it again with the rolling pin, and try again.  Continue decreasing the space between the rollers and running the dough through until you get to the thinnest setting (the thinner the dough, the more delicately crispy they become). 

Cut into rectangles about 1-inch wide and 3 inches long.  Cut a 2-inch slit the long way, so each rectangle looks like a pair of pants.  Twist each leg, then seal at the ankles.  Set on floured pan and cover with plastic wrap.  Repeat for remaining pieces of dough.

In a medium frying pan, add enough oil to reach at least a depth of ½ inch.  Heat until very hot.  Test the oil by dropping in a wand; it should only take about 20 seconds to fry it (turning once halfway through).  Remove before it starts to brown.  Repeat for the others, frying several at a time.  Let drain on paper towels.  When cool, dust generously with confectioner’s sugar.  Serve immediately or store in an airtight container for several days.

Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe
Hamden, Connecticut
1918 –

Next Recipe: Chocolate Spice Cookies

     (Previously: Remembrance)

Blueberry Cobbler

I have to jump on the blueberry cobbler bandwagon this week because, well, I made blueberry cobbler.  (Yeah, it’s not really much more complicated than that.)

And why should cobbler be complicated, anyway?  Some sweetened fruit, some flaky dough, and vanilla (bean) ice cream melting all over the place.  So, here’s my favorite recipe, an adaptation of something that came out of the Cook’s Illustrated test kitchen many years ago.  Did I mention I worked there once?

I learned a great many things in those hallowed halls, including the best way to peel garlic (with the back of a knife and a mighty thwack) and how to mince it finely (with a little salt and your knife at an acute angle making a sort of rhythmic mashing motion).  I also learned that sometimes I like things better when they’ve only been tested, say, 7 times, as opposed to 57.  So, I started making this recipe at home before the head recipe-tester was even done, yet.  Good enough for me, I thought.  (This attitude might have something to do with why I no longer work there.)

Anyway, the “best” recipe is always a matter of opinion.  For me, though, it doesn’t get any better than this.

 

Maybe the Best Blueberry Cobbler (print-friendly version)

6 cups blueberries
1 Tbsp. cornstarch
½ cup sugar, plus 1 Tbsp.
Pinch ground cinnamon
Juice from ½ lemon
2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
12 Tbsp. cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
½ cup milk, plus 1 Tbsp.

Preheat oven to 400°F.

In a 9-inch deep-dish pie plate, combine blueberries, cornstarch, ½ cup sugar, cinnamon, and lemon juice.  Stir well and cover with foil.  Place pie dish on rimmed baking sheet and bake until berries start to release their liquid, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, add flour, baking powder, and salt to the work bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine.  Add butter and pulse until the mixture forms a coarse meal, about 15 seconds.  Dump mixture into bowl and add ½ cup milk.  Combine with fork until a scrappy dough ball forms.  Turn onto counter and knead briefly.  Press into a disk about ½-inch thick.  With a biscuit cutter, cut into a dozen or so shapes, enough to cover the cobbler (recombine the scraps to make extra biscuits).

After 15 minutes, remove blueberries from oven, uncover, and stir.  Arrange biscuits on top, brush with 1 Tbsp. milk, and sprinkle with remaining 1 Tbsp. sugar.  Bake uncovered until biscuits are golden brown, 25-30 minutes more.  Cool 10 minutes before serving.  Don’t forget the ice cream.  Vanilla.  Bean.

Source: Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated (specifically, Kay Rentschler).

Cookbook Friday: Italian Cream Pie

This is a picture of my Great-Aunt Dava on her wedding day to her second husband, Joe Catone, in New Haven, Connecticut in the early 1950s.  Dava’s first husband died young in World War II, as did her sister Dora's (my grandmother's) first husband.

Dava always had a sweet tooth, which may explain why she was such a great baker.  Nonni tells the story of when they were young (Dava was 7, Dora was 9) and they found themselves at a bakery with their mother, Lydia.  Dava wanted a pie.  But, the family couldn’t afford such luxuries, so Lydia said no. 

Still, Dava continued to loiter close to the pies that were on display out in the open.  Angela, the shop-owner, got suspicious.  She warned Dava that if she so much as touched one, her mother would have to pay for it.  Dava promptly stuck her finger right into that pie.  Lydia was furious, but she paid up.  The apple pie, Nonni remembers, was delicious!

This recipe for Dava's Italian cream pie is also delicious. 

Italian Cream Pie

The basic recipe is for a vanilla cream pie, but Dava also sometimes made a half vanilla/half chocolate cream pie by melting a couple of chocolate squares into half of the Italian cream.  Then, she would pour the chocolate and vanilla creams into the crust at the same time (easier with help) so that they bump up against each other, but don’t mix.  You can also pour the cream in two layers.

1 recipe Italian pie crust
1 quart milk
1 cup flour
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. lemon extract
1 Tbsp. Galliano*
1 oz. chocolate (optional)

Heat milk until hot, but not boiling.  In another pot that’s more wide than tall, bring an inch or two of water to a boil.  Lower heat to a simmer.  In a large bowl (one that will be able to sit comfortably on top of the pot), mix flour, sugar, and eggs.  Stir in vanilla and lemon extracts.  Whisk in heated milk, then set bowl on top of pot.  Alternatively, you can use an actual double boiler, if you have one.  Cook, whisking constantly to remove lumps, until thickened.  Remove from heat and mix in Galliano.  Let cool.  (If you want to make a pie with both vanilla and chocolate cream, divide cream in half into two bowls.  Melt 1 oz. of chocolate in the double boiler, and stir into the cream in one of the bowls.  Let cool.)

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Roll out one pie crust on a well-floured counter until ¼-inch thick and at least 12 inches in diameter.  Dough will be soft and sticky, so flour rolling pin well.  To transfer dough to a 10-inch, deep-dish pie plate.  I use a bench scraper to loosen the dough from the counter and push it up and over my rolling pin.  Once half the dough is draped over the pin, I center it over the pie plate and gently unfurl it. 

Pour the Italian cream into the pie shell.  If using two flavors, either gently layer them without mixing, or pour into two different sides at the same time to create the half-and-half pie.  Roll out the second pie crust the same way as the first and place on top of the cream.  Press edges together and tuck under itself along the rim of the pie plate and crimp.  Brush crust with milk or beaten egg, if desired.

Bake about 50 minutes, until crust is puffed and golden-brown.  If crust starts to brown too much too early, just cover top with foil.  Let cool.  Chill before serving.

Dava [Barbaresi] Catone
Hamden, Connecticut
1921 - 1998

* Galliano has an anise flavor that some people don’t like, but I happen to love.  In the Italian cream, you can barely notice the licorice-like flavor and instead get more of an herbal tinge.  It really does add something, so I’d recommend trying it once (even though the smallest bottle of Galliano costs $15).  I’ll have to come up with some interesting cocktails to polish off the rest of the bottle.  Or make more pie.

Dava’s Italian cream pie on the dining room set that Great-Uncle Joe gave us.

Next Recipe: Stuffed Artichokes

     (Previously: The Cherry Tree)

Cookbook Friday: Pignoli Cookies

This picture was taken around 1950 with some of my grandmother’s siblings.  From left to right: sister Jean [Barbaresi] Borrelli, sister Edith [Barbaresi] Piccolo, niece Terese Bontempo, sister-in-law Regina [Lipowski] Barbaresi, and brother Gerry Barbaresi.  Notice the milk bottle and what appears to be an untouched piece of pie in the center of the table.  What’s up with that?

While I was growing up, Edith lived with my grandmother, Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe, for some number of years.  In her sixties at the time, Edith always struck me as a tornado of fury.  It seemed best just to stay out of her way.  But, I remember coming out of the woodwork for these pignoli (pine nut) cookies.  They were totally worth it.

Edith shaped these into crescents, not an easy task with such a sticky dough.  I never have any luck with this, and today was no different.  I gave up halfway through and just dropped them in circles with the rationale that, who the hell cares?  When I pulled them out of the oven, I saw that all of the crescents had transformed themselves into circles anyway, so it was like I didn’t even try.  I’m not sure, but I think I heard her laughing.

Gluten-free peeps, this is the cookie for you.  (Unless you’re allergic to nuts, too.)  (In which case, man, that sucks.)

Pignoli Cookies

This moist and chewy Italian cookie is one of my all-time favorites.

1 lb. almond paste, crumbled finely
1 ½ cups sugar
3 egg whites
1 lb. pine nuts

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Line two cookie sheets with aluminum foil or parchment paper.

Crumble the almond paste into tiny pieces.  You can do this painstakingly by hand, or you can whiz it in the food processor in a flash.  Your choice.  With an electric mixer, beat the crumbled almond paste, sugar, and egg whites together until mixture fluffs up, about 2 minutes.  Spoon ½ teaspoon dough, dip spoon upside down into pine nuts, and push dough onto baking sheet, nut side up.  I find a regular teaspoon (as opposed to a measuring teaspoon) is easier to work with. 

Bake until just golden, 12 to 15 minutes.  Pull the foil off the pans to allow these cookies to cool while baking the rest.  Be sure to reline the pans.  Although the baked cookies may appear to be stuck to the foil, once they have cooled sufficiently, they can be gently peeled right off.  Makes 50 cookies.

Edith [Barbaresi] Piccolo
West Haven, Connecticut
1917-1994

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Cookbook Friday: Italian Pie Crust

This is the wedding photo of my grandmother Dora’s younger sister, Dava Barbaresi, taken sometime in the early 1940’s.  Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe was her maid-of-honor.  Dava’s husband, Eddie Apuzzo, and Dora’s husband, Freddie Donroe, were best friends.  On the far right is my great grandfather, George Barbaresi.  On the far left, I’m not sure, but it looks like maybe a brother of Eddie’s.  The young men, as well as Freddie, were getting ready to ship out with the military, headed for Europe during World War II.

Dava was the baker in the family.  She used this pie crust for her famous rice and Italian cream pies.  The crust, I was told by Dava’s daughter, Roseann, is temperamental, and no one in the family has been able to master it.  After my first attempt, it was clear that I hadn’t mastered it, either.  Unless Dava’s technique happened to involve causing the dough to fall apart into a million pieces and then pressing them into the pie dish in a perturbed fashion.  Could that have been it? 

So, I’ve taken some liberties to make the recipe easier to work with.  My apologies in advance for inserting a food processor into an otherwise vintage recipe.  Also, under normal circumstances, you want to handle your pie dough as little as possible so the gluten doesn’t develop and cause the crust to toughen up.  But, in this case, I found that gently kneading the dough really helps the eggs to incorporate and allows just enough gluten to develop to hold everything together.  It also improved the texture, making the finished crust flakier.

Anyway, it meets my specs as far as crusts go, but I’ll need someone else in the family to try this and see if the crust tastes the way you remember it.  The rice pie filling is coming up next week and, by god, if you do decide to try it, make sure your wills are in order.

Italian Sweet Crust

This spiced crust is like a cross between your typical pie crust and a soft sugar cookie.  Dava used it for her rice pie and Italian cream pie.

3 cups flour
¾ cup sugar
3 tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. cinnamon
¾ cup shortening, cut into medium hunks
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla

By hand: In a large bowl, mix flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices.  Cut in shortening.

In a food processor: Mix together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and spices.  Add shortening and, using the on/off turns, pulse 10-12 times until the shortening pieces are the size of peas.  Dump mixture into a bowl.

Make a well in the ingredients, and add eggs and vanilla.  Fluff until eggs are incorporated.  Knead gently until dough is smooth. If you’re worried you overdid it, just wrap in plastic wrap and set in the refrigerator for a half hour to relax the gluten.  Dough will be soft.  Cut into three parts.  Roll as a pie crust. 

Makes enough dough for two 10-inch rice pies plus lattice, or one 10-inch Italian cream pie with a top crust (plus an extra crust you can freeze).

Dava [Barbaresi] Catone
Hamden, Connecticut
1921-1998

Next Recipe: Sweet Rice Pie

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Cookbook Friday: Zeppole

Another photo from my grandmother’s wedding in 1940.  From left to right, we have Eddie Apuzzo (friend of the groom), George Barbaresi (father of the bride), Dava Barbaresi (sister of the bride), Dora Barbaresi, Freddie Donroe, Albert Donroe (brother of the groom), and Lou Donroe (brother of the groom). 

Nonni’s maid of honor was her younger sister, Dava.  Eddie Apuzzo was Freddie’s best friend.  Dava and Eddie had taken a liking to each other and got married, themselves, not too long afterwards. 

The following recipe is Dava's.  Zeppole, much like the fried dough we know, is very popular with kids, and is best eaten when just cool enough to handle.  Adults might want to test out five or six before letting the kids dig in, you know, just to be sure it's safe.

Zeppole

Dava often made these around the holidays.  It makes about 2 dozen, but you can easily halve the recipe using 1 teaspoon of yeast.

1 pkg. dry yeast
1½ cups warm water
4 cups flour
¼ tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. salt
2 eggs
Canola oil, for deep-frying
Honey, for drizzling

Mix dry yeast with warm water in a small bowl.  In a large bowl, add flour, cinnamon, and salt.  Make a well in the flour with a wooden spoon, and add the eggs, water, and yeast.  Mix dry ingredients into well, little by little, until it reaches bread dough consistency (if the dough still sticks to the bowl, add more flour).  Cover and let rise until double in bulk.

In a deep pot, pour oil to a depth of 2 inches and heat to 375°F.  Fry dough by the tablespoonful in hot oil (dip spoon in flour, if necessary, to keep dough from sticking).  Drain on paper towels.  Place zeppole in large bowl and pour honey over them.

Dava [Barbaresi] Catone
Hamden, Connecticut
1921-1998

Zeppole drizzled with local honey.

Next recipe: Fried Artichokes

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