FOOD ON THE FOOD

Olympic Smoothies

The kids had a nice, mellow school vacation last week. The 11YO was in great shape by then. He probably didn't need that third week of recuperation after his appendectomy, but who's going to argue with another seven days of lazing around reading, building with Legos, and watching the Olympics? You enjoy those things so much more when you don't feel like crap.

I made the kids some healthy smoothies to help get the 11YO's digestive tract back on track after his no-nonsense course of antibiotics. Time to repopulate all the good bacteria that were cleared out of his gut. So we blended up some local yogurt with some very far-flung ingredients, like pineapple mango coconut and strawberry blackberry banana. Of course, the one he liked best was the one with chocolate, peanut butter, and banana. Who could blame him? He could use some fattening up anyway. We enjoyed sipping them while watching ski cross, which was by far the kids' favorite Olympic sport. Seeing the skiers bouncing over the hills and into the air (and each other) made for super-exciting viewing, but the sport also struck me as infuriatingly random not to mention a one-way ticket to the hospital. (The other highlight of ski cross, in case you missed it, was this.  Yes, Slovenia gets the gold medal for the winningest Olympic mustache.)

I did kick the boys out of the house once in a while so they could engage in some low-impact sports like snow-fort-building. Maybe that will be added to the Olympic roster at some point. If so, I know what we'll be using for an energy boost.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Banana Smoothies    

For children who suddenly decide that they hate bananas (I'm looking at you, 8YO), you can make the smoothie without banana, pour some off into a glass, and then add the banana to the rest. Because it really is much better with the banana. (No it isn't, says the 8YO.)

1 pint vanilla frozen yogurt
1 cup milk
1/4 cup natural peanut butter
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tablespoon honey (or sugar)
1 banana

Mix everything together in a blender on high, and voila. Serves 2, maaaaaybe 3.

Source: Adapted from Jon Olinto and Anthony Ackil of b.good. I'm reprising this recipe from 7 years ago because I made a few changes and took a (slightly) less shitty photo.

Local Ingredients
Frozen yogurt: Stonyfield Farms, Londonderry, NH
Milk: Our Family Farms of Massachusetts, Greenfield, MA
Peanut Butter: Teddie, Everett, MA
Honey: Boston Honey Company, Reseska Apiaries, Holliston, MA

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

Peppermint Stick Ice Cream

Candy canes are the perfect Christmas tree ornaments. The red and white stripes are always festive, they're light enough not to weigh down the branches too much, and they come with convenient built-in hooks. Also, they're cheap!         I caught on to this fact when I was just out of college with not a lot of money and a whole lot of empty tree. For a dollar, you could get a box of 12 to 15 candy canes. That's 12 to 15 ornaments for the price of one. Twenty years later, those numbers still look good and candy canes continue to grace our tree.

Inevitably, though, with cats or kids or simple gravity, some of these candy canes will break. When that happens, don't throw them away! Make ice cream!

The kids love this old-fashioned peppermint stick ice cream. Tastes like Christmas, they say. I have to agree. This recipe got cut from my cookbook on account of space, so the book's loss is your gain. If you like, you can top a minty scoop with more crushed candy canes and perhaps a drizzle of bittersweet chocolate sauce (WINTERSWEET, page 81). Or maybe let some melt into your hot cocoa? I'm just thinking out loud here. But do yourself a favor and keep your peppermint stick stash on the DL. Santa's been known to leave empty containers in the freezer.


Peppermint Stick Ice Cream    

Needless to say, be sure to use peppermint candy canes, not the gross fruit-flavored ones.

2 large eggs
3/4 cup (150 g) granulated sugar
2 cups (500 ml) cups heavy cream
1 cup (250 ml) milk
1½ teaspoons peppermint extract
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
4 to 5 peppermint candy canes

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs for 1 to 2 minutes. Whisk in the sugar a little at a time, then whisk for 1 minute more. Pour the cream, milk, peppermint extract, and vanilla into the egg mixture and whisk for another minute until the sugar is dissolved. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions (usually spin for 25 minutes).

While the ice cream is churning, put 4 to 5 peppermint candy canes into a resealable plastic bag and zip it tight. Smash them with a can into pieces 1/4-inch (6-mm) or smaller. During the last five minutes of churning, add the candy pieces. Spoon into a freezer-safe container and freeze until scoopable, at least 6 hours.

Author's Note: I make my ice cream the old-fashioned way: with fresh, local, raw eggs. You are under no obligation to do the same. If you're worried about salmonella, your options are many: Use pasteurized eggs instead. Or leave out the eggs entirely for a perfectly good Philadelphia-style ice cream. Or pull out your favorite cooked custard-style ice cream cookbook (like David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop) and modify this recipe using egg yolks and a thermometer. Or pull out your favorite cornstarch-based, egg-free ice cream cookbook (like Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream at Home) and modify her base. It's your kitchen after all.

Local Sources:
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Milk: Our Family Farms of Massachusetts, Greenfield, MA

An Early Taste of Winter(sweet)

Photo by Megan Gordon

A couple of bloggers have already tried recipes from my newly released book, WINTERSWEET. They've played with them, adapted them, and written about them in their own unique way. Have a look:

Appalachian Whiskey Applesauce Cake by A Sweet Spoonful (see photo above)

Cranberry Torte by Lottie + Doof

Chocolate Pavlova with Winter Fruits by Simple Bites

Many thanks for the great posts! If I've missed yours, let me know and I'll include a link in the next roundup.

I'd also like to thank everyone who reviewed WINTERSWEET on Amazon. I really appreciate the nice comments. I'm enjoying the five-star rating while it lasts because it's only a matter of time before someone receives a damaged book from Amazon—shredded in transit, rained upon, pecked at by angry birds, defiled by stray dogs—and posts a scathing, one-star review that ruins the average. Still, that's better than someone reading the book from cover to cover and absolutely hating it with a burning passion. That's always a possibility, too, but one I shan't entertain at this time.

Grape Nut Ice Cream

I'm going out on a limb to say this will probably be one of my least popular posts of all time. Why? Because I'm pretty sure I'm the only one under the age of 80 who buys Grape-Nuts on a regular basis. But I can't help it. I love that cereal!   And I especially love the ice cream!

Grape nut ice cream is one of those flavors that lurks in the far corner of the menu board for one reason and one reason alone: to appease the grumpy guy down the street that orders a single scoop at the same time every day like he has for the past 40 years. If you took it off the menu, you'd never hear the end of it.

For everyone else, though, the decision is tough. What would you rather find in your ice cream: cookie dough, cake batter, candy bars, or Euell Gibbons' favorite health cereal? Then there's the temptation of chocolate-peanut-butter this or coffee-mocha-caramel that or some new maple-walnut-butterscotch-bourbon-pistachio-pecan-praline mash-up, which I will surely love, to complicate matters. Peaceful treaties between historically hostile nations could be hammered out in less time than it takes me to order an ice cream.

That's why I make my own grape nut ice cream at home. I have everything I need right in the pantry and it's always consistently good. (Sometimes grumpy guys have a point!) The secret is in the cereal itself: how those crunchy little nuggets of barley soften and mellow into malty, toothsome perfection. A little bit of malted milk powder sweetens the deal. If you can't find malted milk powder at the store, you can order it through King Arthur Flour or just ask your local ice cream shop for a take-out container of the stuff while waving a couple of dollar bills around. Nothing motivates the teenage summer help like cold hard cash. Or maybe it's the prospect of getting certain indecisive, troublesome female patrons to finally leave. We may never know for sure.


Grape Nut Ice Cream    

I make my ice cream the old-fashioned way: with organic raw eggs. You are under no obligation to do the same. If you're worried about salmonella, your options are many: Use pasteurized eggs instead. Or leave out the eggs entirely for a very serviceable Philadelphia-style ice cream. Or pull out your favorite cooked custard-style ice cream cookbook (like David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop) and modify this recipe using egg yolks and a thermometer. Or pull out your favorite cornstarch-based, egg-free ice cream cookbook (like Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream at Home) and modify her base. It's your kitchen after all.

2 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar

2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
2 heaping tablespoons malted milk powder, like Horlick's or Carnation
3/4 cup Grape-Nuts cereal



In a large bowl, whisk the eggs for 1 to 2 minutes. Whisk in the sugar a little at a time, then whisk for 1 minute more. Add the cream, milk, and malted milk powder, and whisk for another minute until the sugar is dissolved. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions (usually spin for 25 minutes).

During the last 2 minutes of churning, pour in the grape nuts. Transfer the churned mixture into a freezer-safe container. Freeze until firm, at least 8 hours.

Christmas Came Early This Year

Guess what I'm holding right here in my hot little hands? An actual, real-life advance copy of my book!

The package was sitting on my porch when we got back from vacation. I was almost afraid to open it, which is ridiculous since I've already seen the proofs. But what if I opened the package to find a book that I didn't recognize at all, on a subject with which I was completely unfamiliar, in a language unknown to me, with all kinds of abstract art I don't understand and would somehow have to try to explain because my name is on the book?

Could that happen? Could it?

I eyed the package suspiciously for some time until, finally, I just opened it. It was exactly what I remembered—in English no less—and all of the good feelings came rushing back like I was reuniting with an old friend.

A few observations:

1. It's beautiful. The cover is stunning. The photos are gorgeous. The whole design is just lovely. It's exactly the kind of book I'd be delighted to find under the tree on Christmas morning. I feel so fortunate to have worked with a publisher that somehow managed to align the art with my own personal aesthetic so closely (or, more accurately, the aesthetic I strive for). Don't you just love when you get some good luck once in a while?

2. Wow, it's really thick. Sure, I saw the manuscript pages numbering into the high two-hundreds, but I still couldn't picture what 280 pages of nice, thick paper would look like between a jacket-less hardcover. It looks really substantial. Not "intimidating" substantial, but certainly "you're getting your money's worth" substantial.

3. How the hell am I ever going to top this?

Last week, I was on my computer when the 7YO came in, sat down, and started quietly paging through the book, which was sitting on the armchair next to my desk. We used to do this all the time when he was little. He would sit on my lap in that very chair and we'd go page by page through whatever cookbook he picked out, usually a dessert cookbook (like mother, like son!). He'd look at all the pictures, read all the recipe names, and decide which ones we would make. He learned how to read that way.

At the time, I never considered that we would be sitting down doing the same thing in a handful of years with a cookbook I wrote myself. But there we were, cuddled up on the chair, the 10YO soon joining us as we plotted peanut butter blondies and whoopie pies. I was sure we wouldn't make it all the way to the end of the book in one sitting, but we did. I don't think there's a single review or sales statistic that could top that feeling!

 

Just a reminder that the book will be out next month. If you've already pre-ordered, thank you so much! Every copy supports my family and this blog. If you'd like to come to the book release party, it is open to the public and will be held on Friday, October 25 at 7 p.m. at Back Pages Book in Waltham. You can RSVP here so I know how much cake to make. (If you can't come, you can still purchase signed copies here.)

 

Afloat

root beer + vanilla ice cream = summer bliss

Mocha Berry Trifle

I found this lovely bowl at TJ Maxx for under $10. The label said it was handmade in Poland. I'm pretty sure nothing made of hand-shaped hot molten glass should cost under $10. I hope that doesn't mean underpaid, underage workers are being chained to high-temperature glass-blowing equipment so that I can enjoy my precious trifle. I was conflicted about buying it at such a great price until another woman made a move toward the footed bowl, and suddenly my inner conflict was resolved. 'Cause, you know, it was already made. I wouldn't want all that work to go unappreciated.

This recipe is not a trifle exactly. A trifle is made with layers of boozy cake, custard, and fruit. This dessert is made with chocolate cookies, no booze (shame on me!), and coffee-flavored whipped cream, making it "technically" another version of icebox cake. But I put it in a trifle dish, so I'm calling it a trifle. It's a breeze to make and puts those amazing fresh summer berries on the pedestal they deserve. When assembling the dessert, try not to squash all the layers to the very edge of the bowl if you can. Better to leave a little space along the sides so you can see all the layers intact. That's why the top half of my trifle up there looks so much better than the bottom half. I wised up eventually.

Mocha Berry Trifle     

Don't have a pretty trifle dish? Use an 8x8-inch casserole dish instead, or try individual mason jars.

3 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1-1/2 Tbsp. espresso powder (or instant coffee granules ground with a mortar and pestle)
1 tsp. vanilla extract
9-oz. box chocolate wafers (Nabisco brand is okay)
1 pint raspberries, blackberries, or both

In a large bowl, whip the cream with the confectioner's sugar, espresso powder, and vanilla starting on low and gradually increasing to medium speed for 4 to 5 minutes until the cream thickens and forms soft peaks when the beaters are lifted. You don't want the cream over-whipped to the consistency of spray confetti. The cream mixture should still be smooth, but mound easily and hold its shape when you spread it.

Add a very thin layer of the whipped espresso cream to the bottom of your serving vessel of choice. Add a single layer of chocolate wafers. On top of that, add a layer of cream. Scatter some berries on top of the cream. Repeat the order (cookies, cream, berries) for as many layers as you can fit in your trifle dish until you run out of ingredients or space, ending with the berries. (For an 8x8-inch casserole dish, you can fit 2 or 3 layers.)

Refrigerate the trifle covered for at least 4 hours or overnight. Be forewarned that it is virtually impossible to serve this dessert in a neat and tidy way. Just accept it and move on. Showtime was back when everything was on display in the trifle bowl and now showtime is over. It still tastes great.

Local Sources:
Raspberries: My backyard!
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Peaches and Cream Icebox Cake

A few people have asked whether I plan to follow my winter dessert cookbook with a summer dessert cookbook. The answer: Probably not. I think I've already proven that I can't be trusted in any scenario where I have 24-hour access to dessert. The other reason is, come summertime, the last thing I want to do is turn on the oven. I'll do it once in a while when we get a stretch of dry air and mild temperatures like we've had this past week, but not during the sweltering, blast-furnace heat of the previous weeks. No, thank you. I'll have a whole eternity in hell as Lucifer's personal pie baker for that.

But I still have a sweet tooth that just won't quit. In other words, I'm still making dessert occasionally, just mostly no-bake ones. And by no-bake, I mean: no oven, no stove, no heat at all besides that which emanates from the horrible blazing sun you're presumably hiding from.

That's why I hereby declare this summer to be "The Summer of Icebox Cakes."

Icebox cake is a cool, creamy, layered affair that only improves with time sitting in the refrigerator (or icebox, as Nonni always called it). Graham crackers usually define the layers of whipped cream, mousse, or custard, but you can use other types of cookies, too. Think of icebox cake as a white-trash napoleon. A dumbed-down tiramisu. Don't let my disparaging language fool you, though. Simple, unpretentious icebox cakes can be perfectly delicious. My childhood version (made by Nonni on hot summer days) featured chocolate and vanilla pudding and sliced bananas between the graham cracker layers. We loved it.

My grown-up version alternates slices of fresh peaches with creamy whipped mascarpone and vanilla wafers. It's ridiculously fresh-tasting. And stupefyingly easy. Because there's so little to the recipe, it's especially important to use really good ingredients: super-ripe peaches, fresh organic cream, real mascarpone, and good-quality vanilla wafers. Not Nabisco Nilla Wafers. If you use those, you will ruin this recipe. You need something good. I recommend Mi-Del Vanilla Snaps from the "natural" aisle of the supermarket. Feel free to sneak a few raspberries in there, too, to get a peach melba thing going on. It's also fantastic with nectarines.

Peaches and Cream Icebox Cake     

Once assembled, let the cake sit in the fridge for several hours before serving to give the peaches and cream a chance to soften the crispy cookies into spongy cake-like layers.

4 to 5 ripe peaches, peeled, pitted, thinly sliced
3 cups heavy cream
8 ounces mascarpone cheese
3/4 cup confectioner's sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
12 ounces best-quality vanilla wafers

In a large bowl, whip the cream with the mascarpone, confectioner's sugar, and vanilla starting on low and gradually increasing the speed to medium for 4 to 5 minutes until the cream thickens and holds soft peaks when the beaters are lifted. The cream mixture should mound easily and hold its shape when you spread it.

Add a very thin layer of mascarpone cream to the bottom of an 8 x 8-inch pan. Line the pan with a layer of vanilla wafers. On top of that, add a layer of overlapping peach slices. Add a thick layer of mascarpone cream on top. Repeat the order for 1 or 2 more layers as desired, ending with cream on top. (If you run out of cookies, don't worry, just spread them out the best you can.)

Refrigerate the icebox cake for at least 4 hours or overnight. Slice and serve with a spatula.

Local Sources:
Peaches: Carver Hill Orchard, Stow, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Mint Stracciatella Ice Cream

I've spent a fair bit of time over the past few weeks helping to get the kids' school garden cleaned up and productive. A lot of the weeding involved removing mint bent on world domination. I thought of saving it to make pesto, but it was the wrong kind of mint. This tasted more like peppermint. While peppermint pasta doesn't appeal, I couldn't see throwing all of that perfectly good mint into the compost. Plus all that weeding makes you hot and sweaty. Soon I was craving something cool and refreshing. And minty.

Light bulb!

Mint chocolate chip was always a favorite flavor of mine growing up, but I'd never made it at home. Turns out, there's nothing to it. Tear up the mint leaves and steep them in hot milk until cool, strain out the greenery, and proceed with the usual steps. Drizzling some melted chocolate over the churned mixture as you pack it into a container to freeze gives you instant chocolate chips (you get to use your favorite chocolate, too). It's a nice reward for an honest partial-day's work.

Mint Stracciatella Ice Cream     

I make my ice cream the old-fashioned way: with organic raw eggs. You are not required to do the same. If you're worried about salmonella, your options are many: Use pasteurized eggs instead. Or leave out the eggs entirely for a very serviceable Philadelphia-style ice cream. Or pull out your favorite cooked custard-style ice cream cookbook (like David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop, for example) and modify this recipe using egg yolks and a thermometer. Or pull out your favorite cornstarch-based, egg-free, gelato-style ice cream cookbook (like Jeni Britton Bauer's Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream at Home) and modify, modify, modify. It's your kitchen after all.

1 cup mint leaves (or more), packed
1-1/2 cups milk
2 large eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1-1/2 cups heavy cream
3 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

Tear up the mint leaves and add them to a small saucepan with the milk. Heat the milk until little bubbles form around the edges. Remove the pot from the heat and let it sit until cool. Refrigerate until ready to use (the longer it sits, the more flavor becomes infused). Strain the mixture into a medium bowl, pressing on the leaves to extract as much liquid as possible. Discard the leaves.

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs for 1 to 2 minutes. Whisk in the sugar a little at a time, then whisk for 1 minute more. Pour in the cream and minty milk, and whisk for another minute until the sugar is dissolved. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions (usually spin for 25 minutes).

While the ice cream is churning, heat the chopped chocolate on top of a double boiler (if you don't have one, improvise your own by setting a metal bowl atop a smallish saucepan with an inch of simmering water; the bottom of the bowl should not touch the water). Stir the chocolate until melted and smooth, 1 to 2 minutes.

Transfer the churned ice cream mixture into a freezer-safe container in layers, messily alternating big spoonfuls of soft ice cream with drizzlings of melted chocolate. Freeze until firm, at least 8 hours.

Springtime and Rhubarb Crisp

So far this spring, we've had very little in the way of April showers and lots in the way of freezing cold Arctic blasts that take your breath away. But I know you're coming, Spring. I know it because the snow piles have finally receded, exposing all the computer monitors that have been dumped in the woods behind our house, sun glinting off the screens at various times of day. I also know because the turkey vultures have returned to roost back there, as they do every year around this time, lured by rumors of carrion and free wifi.

But it's the appearance of rhubarb in the markets that truly announces warmer days ahead. Nothing says spring like weird pink vegetables. I made this ginger-laced rhubarb crisp for Easter weekend as the mercury inched past sixty degrees. The first real taste of spring!

I'm ready for more.


Rhubarb Ginger Crisp     

Bracing and bright, these two flavors were made for each other. You want fresh ginger here, not ground.

1-1/2 pounds rhubarb, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 Tbsp. minced fresh ginger
1-1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
Pinch of salt
4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Butter the inside of a 9-inch pie plate or 8x8-inch baking dish.

Combine the rhubarb, ginger and 1 cup of the sugar in the prepared dish. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar. Cut the butter into the dry ingredients with your fingers (pinching the butter into smaller and smaller pieces) or using a pastry blender until the mixture resembles a coarse meal flecked with pea-sized pieces of butter (you can also do this in a food processor). Scatter the mixture over the rhubarb.

Bake for about 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and the rhubarb juices are bubbly. Remove from the oven and let it cool slightly. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

Source: Adapted from The Country Cooking of Ireland by Colman Andrews.

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

Banoffee Parfaits

A few years back, I featured a recipe for banoffee pie. For those unfamiliar, banoffee pie is an amazing—and amazingly simple—combination of bananas, whipped cream, and dulce de leche (milk caramel) that everyone should try. However, I'm pretty sure nobody made the pie.

Show of hands: who made the pie?

See? Nobody.

So today, I'm offering you an even easier way to make this pie—by removing the pie aspect altogether and layering the filling components inside mason jars or wine glasses or whatever containers you happen to have at hand.

Since I got rid of the graham cracker crust, I inserted little Swedish ginger cookies between the layers (delicious!), but you could also use actual graham crackers, digestive biscuits, or Maria cookies. Break them up if you have to. You can buy dulce de leche already made in little cans in the Latin American section of the supermarket (you'll want to heat it up a little to loosen it slightly), or you can make your own by boiling the hell out of a can of condensed milk (remove the label, boil the can for 3 hours making sure the water level never falls below the top of the can, and let it cool completely before opening). If you're local, Fat Toad Farm in Vermont makes a killer cajeta (dulce de leche made from goat's milk). Russo's stocks it sometimes.

Then, slice some bananas thickly. Whip some cream (no sugar required, though a dribble of vanilla never hurts). Layer it all together and top it with chocolate shavings, a dusting of cocoa, or chopped pecans.

It's delicious and easy. Husband ate two.

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.

Sticky Cranberry Gingerbread

If your Thanksgiving menu is not yet firm, and even if it is, here's something else to consider for the dessert table: moist, spicy gingerbread cake with a sticky layer of cranberries on the bottom.

Sound tempting? It's from Melissa Clark's newest book, Cook This Now. I thought the title of her book was a little presumptuous at first. Now, Melissa? Right now?? I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas, and I need to go to the store! But I'm very glad I didn't wait. I loved every bite. The bourbon-spiked whipped cream didn't hurt, either.

Here's my advice: stock up on in-season cranberries right now while they're at their peak, and store the bags in the freezer. Then you can make sticky cranberry gingerbread anytime during the holidays, not to mention delicious pancakes and muffins all winter long!


Sticky Cranberry Gingerbread (print-friendly version)

The recipe calls for golden syrup, which is a sugar-processing byproduct similar to molasses, but lighter. It's more of a British thing. I didn't have any golden syrup handy (and neither did my local grocers), so I planned to sub in honey or sugar, come what may. That is, until I remembered the jar of date syrup my friend brought me back from Israel (also called date honey). I used that instead and it was wonderful! You won't be able to find that, either, probably, but I see no reason why regular honey or just sugar wouldn't work. Follow your own instincts.

2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries (8 ounces)
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup molasses
1/4 cup golden syrup (or date syrup, honey, or sugar)
1-1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon grated fresh gingerroot

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an 8x8- or 9x9-inch square baking pan generously. Line the bottom with parchment paper.

In a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan, stir together the cranberries, granulated sugar, and water. Stir the slushy mixture over medium heat until the sugar is completely dissolved and the cranberries form a sauce that is syrupy and bubbling thickly, 8 to 10 minutes. Aim to have about half of the cranberries broken down, with the remainder more or less whole. Remove from the heat and set aside.

In a separate small saucepan, combine the butter, brown sugar, milk, molasses, and golden syrup over medium heat. Stir until the butter has melted and the mixture comes to a bare simmer, and then remove it from the heat. Don't let it boil or the mixture could curdle.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, ground ginger, cinnamon, baking powder, salt, baking soda, and black pepper. Beat in the butter-molasses mixture, and then beat in the eggs. Stir in the grated gingerroot.

Pour the batter into the pan. Drop fat dollops of cranberry sauce onto the surface of the batter. Drag a long, slender knife through the batter in a swirly design, as if you are marbling a cake. Transfer the cake to the oven and bake until the top is firm and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 50 to 55 minutes. Let cool completely on a wire rack before serving.

Source: Adapted minimally from Cook This Now by Melissa Clark.

Local Ingredients:
Cranberries: Willows Cranberries, Wareham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Milk: Stonyfield Farms, Londonderry, NH

Pumpkin Cupcakes for Halloween

I guess there's some kind of storm coming, so I've been advised to get my Halloween post up before the power goes out and/or any one of these dead trees falls on my house. I don't know what the big deal is. As long as the winds don't go much above 20 mph, it should be fine. No problemo.

Here's a recipe for pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting that you may decorate in whatever ghoulish fashion you might envision. I'm sure one of you is good at making jack o'lantern faces out of icing or what have you, but I am not. Bad things happen when I try to be creative. You'll just have to use your imagination. Keep me out of it!

But the cupcakes themselves are very, very tasty. Suffice it to say that a power outage is the only way I won't be making these again in the next 48 hours.


Pumpkin Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting (print-friendly version)

This is my neighbor's pumpkin bread recipe paired with the cream cheese frosting I normally reserve for carrot cake. This recipe makes about 16 cupcakes or one 9-inch cake (double the recipe for a stacked cake).

Batter
1-2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1-1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup canola oil
2 large eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree (fresh or canned)
2 tablespoons water

Frosting
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature (not light or whipped)
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2-1/4 cups confectioner’s sugar

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a standard muffin tin with wrappers.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. In another medium bowl, mix the sugar, canola oil, eggs, pumpkin puree, and water until well combined. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and stir well. Spoon the batter into the muffin tins until about 2/3 full. Bake about 20 minutes, or until the middles rise and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool to room temperature.

To make the frosting, whip together the softened butter and cream cheese with an electric mixer. Sift the confectioner’s sugar into a medium bowl (sifting is very important to prevent lumps). Add half of the confectioner’s sugar and mix until smooth, starting at low speed so that the sugar doesn’t fly everywhere and then gradually increasing speed. Mix in the rest of the confectioner’s sugar. Frost the cooled cupcakes, and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Note: Bring on the fresh pumpkin if you have it (sugar pumpkins or long pumpkins are best). Cut in half, scoop out the seeds, and bake at 375°F cut-side-down on a rimmed baking sheet for 45 minutes to an hour. Scoop the tender flesh out of its skin and puree in a food processor for about a minute. Set the pulp in a fine-mesh strainer to drain for an hour before using. (You can substitute squash, too!)

Chocolate-Covered Strawberry Ice Cream

Do you guys remember that chocolate sauce you pour over ice cream that hardens into a crisp, chocolatey shell? Did your parents let you have that when you were kids? Yeah, me neither. But guess what? I just made some! My lost youth has been resurrected!

I was flipping through Bon Appetít at our friend's lake house in New York two weeks ago, and there was a recipe for just such a topping. It's very simple: just melted chocolate and coconut oil. When the sauce hits the ice cream, the cold temperature causes all of the saturated fats to solidify into a chocolate shell. Yay, saturated fats!

I had a pint of ratty-looking strawberries in the fridge, so I made some strawberry ice cream to go along with it. Who doesn't like chocolate-covered strawberries, right? Well, in ice cream cone form, it makes for some messy eating so be warned. The shell slips around as you try to crack it with your teeth, and meanwhile the ice cream melts underneath it creating a drippy mess. Best to send the kids outside and hose them down afterwards. For myself, I preferred to scoop some ice cream into a dish, drizzle the sauce on top, and, once hardened, crack it with a spoon.

Because one must always use spoons when reliving one's youth. Spoons and napkins!


Strawberry Ice Cream (print-friendly version)

If you don't like raw eggs in your ice cream, just leave them out. Swear to god.

1 pint fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
1/3 cup granulated sugar, plus 3/4 cup
Juice of 1/2 lemon
2 large eggs
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk

Combine the strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate at least 1 hour. Pulse the mixture briefly in a blender until it forms a chunky puree.

Whisk the eggs in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, 1 to 2 minutes. Whisk in the sugar, a little at a time, then whisk 1 minute more. Pour in the cream, milk, and strawberry puree. Whisk 1 to 2 minutes until the sugar is dissolved. Pour into an ice cream machine and follow the manufacturer's instructions, usually spin for 25 minutes. Transfer to a container and freeze until scoopable.

Source: Adapted from Ben and Jerry's Homemade Ice Cream & Dessert Book by Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield


Magic Chocolate Shell (print-friendly version)

I used cold-pressed, unrefined coconut oil, which lent a subtle coconut flavor to the shell. However, if you want your chocolate untainted by coconut essence, try organic refined coconut oil, which has a more neutral flavor. This makes enough for 4 to 6 servings.

6 ounces semisweet or bittersweet chocolate (chopped or chips)
3 tablespoons coconut oil

Combine the chocolate and coconut oil in a medium metal bowl. Set over a medium saucepan of simmering water. Stir until the chocolate is almost melted. Remove from heat and continue stirring until the mixture is completely smooth. Let cool 10 to 15 minutes so it doesn't melt your ice cream.

Drizzle chocolate over bowls of ice cream. Or quickly dip ice cream cones into the mixture, sprinkle with chopped nuts if desired, set upright in a glass, and freeze 10 minutes until hard.

Source: Adapted from Bon Appetít and Jeni Britton Bauer of Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams in Columbus, Ohio

Vacation Bacon

TeenNiece hopped a flight home earlier this week. As her parting gift, she's sharing her recipe for candied bacon. Yes, you read that right: candied bacon. As if bacon weren't delicious enough on its own, TeenNiece wove slices of the cured pork into a meaty mat, sprinkled the whole thing with brown sugar, and baked it until crispy and caramelized. Then—and this is the best part—you break off pieces and dip them in Nutella. Have you had a heart attack, yet?

Listen, I never said I was going to be virtuous on vacation. I told you it was going to be ice cream morning, noon, and night. I just failed to mention the bacon part. My bad. The good news is that the kids fattened up quite nicely last week. As for the adults? Well, let's not talk about the adults!

Candied Bacon

You will be a ruined woman (or man) after eating this. Best to restrict it to vacation only.

1 pound bacon
1/4-1/3 cup light brown sugar
Nutella

Preheat oven to 350°F. On a rimmed, foil-lined baking sheet, weave bacon together like so:

Sprinkle the bacon with about 1 tablespoon of brown sugar. Bake 5 to 7 minutes. Remove it from the oven, sprinkle with another tablespoon of brown sugar, and bake 5 to 7 minutes more. Continue sprinkling and baking until the bacon turns golden-brown and crispy, and the sugar caramelizes, 20 to 30 minutes. Cooking time depends on the thickness of the bacon. Oscar Meyer will cook quickly. Thicker farm bacon will need more time and perhaps longer spacings between sugar sprinklings, say 7 to 10 minutes. The sugar may burn on the foil around the bacon—that's no big deal—but you don't want the actual bacon to burn.

Remove the bacon from the oven, and use a spatula to transfer it to a paper towel-lined plate to drain. Let cool 5 minutes. Seriously, let it cool—hot sugar burns! Then, break off pieces and dip them in Nutella. Swoon!

Peanut Marzipan

I first tasted peanut marzipan in the Bronx one steamy summer circa 1987. Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance with Somebody was playing on my Walkman. We were visiting a family friend, one of those transient people who passes in and out of your life almost unremembered. He produced a package that contained what in essence was a dense cake of powdered peanuts. He said it was Mexican marzipan. When you peeled off the cellophane, there was a thin film of grease clinging to it from the oil that had separated from the nuts in the summer heat. The marzipan was delicious! It reminded me of the inside of a peanut butter cup, but less sweet. Thirteen-year-old me wasn't a whole lot different than I am now. The package didn't last long in my hands.

Since then, I've never seen or even heard of peanut marzipan. It created a bit of confusion for me many years later when confronted with traditional marzipan, which has an entirely different flavor and texture, and isn't made from peanuts at all, but rather almonds. It's soft, sweet, and moist, almost perfumey with almond flavor. Peanut marzipan is sandier, crumblier, and, well, peanuttier. Whenever I mentioned marzipan made of peanuts, no one knew what the hell I was talking about.

Vindication came last week. Better 25 years late than never. I was at the library flipping through the cookbook My Sweet Mexico by Fany Gerson, which contains recipes for traditional and modern Mexican desserts. Right there on the page was a recipe for none other than peanut marzipan. Could it be, I thought? I swung by the store for some peanuts on the way home and whipped up a batch that afternoon. This never happens, but it was EVEN BETTER than what I remembered. Like peanut butter fudge but much easier to make. It had all of the peanut flavor and almost none of the guilt (there's always a smidgeon of guilt when you're enjoying yourself a little too much).

My youngest is a peanut butter fiend and he was enraptured at first bite. I promised he could have a bigger piece for dessert later on. In fact, all I saw of his dinner that night was an empty plate. He only had eyes for peanut marzipan. He's his mother's son, after all.

Peanut Marzipan

Two ingredients and five minutes in the food processor and you're done. You can make it with other nuts, too.

2 cups plain roasted unsalted peanuts, skins removed (not raw)
1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar

Grind the peanuts in a food processor until finely ground. Add the sugar and continue to process, scraping down the sides of the bowl occasionally, until peanuts release their oil and mixture clumps together. For me it took somewhere in the 3-5 minute range. You can roll the mixture into balls or form small disks by pressing it into a circular cookie cutter until compacted. Carefully remove cookie cutter and wrap in wax paper. Can be stored at room temperature for a little while at least, though long-term storage should probably be in the fridge.

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

Hawaiian Sunshine

For the next two months, we will be a family of five.  My teenaged niece who lives on Maui is staying with us for the summer. 

In the two weeks since she arrived, TeenNiece has brightened our home with her sunshiny personality and charming expressions like "awesome possum!"  She won over the 5YO immediately with descriptions of exotic Hawaiian birds.  She and Husband exchanged important, possibly life-saving tips regarding the zombie apocalypse.  An excellent swimmer (a more graceful butterfly stroke I've never seen), TeenNiece has proven to be a motivating personal trainer—one who can also be counted on to quickly and reliably rescue her sputtering, partially drowning Auntie T.  Aaaaaand, she can cook!  While we were on tornado alert last week, she prepared creamy fettuccine with breaded chicken strips (which Husband dubbed "chicken and tornoodles") all by herself.  It was delicious!  Perhaps she will be guest-posting this summer!  Did I mention she's a prolific writer?

In the spirit of our visitor from more tropical shores, here's a recipe I developed for passion fruit bars with macadamia nut shortbread shown above.  Think lemon bars with a Hawaiian twist.  It's currently being featured on Babble.com.   Enjoy!

Local Sources:
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Eggs: Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA
Plate: The Concord Shop, Concord, MA

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

Snow Day 5: Maple Cookies

Not that I'm counting or anything. 

I know maple cookies might not seem very original given that we already talked about cookies on the first snow day, and learned how to make maple taffy on the third.  But for our fifth snow day, I thought maybe I would take the maple and the cookies and combine them.  To make maple cookies.  Aaaaand use the exact same cookie cutters as before.  And take a crappy picture.  This is the kind of half-assed posting you can expect if we have any more snow days.

The recipe, however, is quite tasty, especially for rolled-out cookies, which tend to err on the side of boring, flavor-wise.  I tweaked it from an old New England family recipe I found.  A splash of maple syrup in the standard powdered sugar icing makes them extra tasty.  You could also add walnuts to the dough, shape it into a log, chill, and then slice into rounds before baking if cookie-cutter whimsy isn't your thing.  I might skip the icing in that case.  Maybe not.

Just please, for the love of god, no more snow days.

Maple Cookies

Dough
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into quarters
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup maple sugar (or another 1 cup brown sugar)
2 eggs
1 Tbsp. vanilla
3 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt

Icing
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1 tsp. maple syrup (preferably Grade B)
Few drops of lemon juice (optional)
Water

Preheat over to 375 F.  Lightly grease cookie sheet or line with silpat or parchment paper.

In a stand mixer, cream together butter and brown sugar.  Add eggs and vanilla, mixing well after each addition.  Sift together flour, baking soda, and salt.  Add to sugar mixture, and mix until combined.  Chill about an hour to make the dough slightly firmer and easier to handle.  Roll out about 1/4-inch thick.  Cut out shapes, gather scraps, and reroll.  Bake 8-10 minutes, or until cookies start to color along the edges.  Monitor closely as they burn easily.  Let cool completely on rack before making icing.

For the maple glaze, whisk confectioner's sugar, maple syrup, and lemon juice in a small bowl.  Add water as needed to make a slurry that both runs off the spoon and has some body.  Start with 1 teaspoon of water and go from there.  It doesn't take much.  If the icing gets too watery, add more sugar.  Frost and decorate.  Let dry.

Local Ingredient Sources:
Maple sugar: Warren Farm & Sugarhouse, North Brookfield, MA
Maple syrup: Williams Farm Sugarhouse, Deerfield, MA (via Russo's)
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Eggs: Red Fire Farm, Granby, MA (via Wayland Winter Farmer's Market)

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.

A Cranberry Christmas

We spent Christmas with the in-laws on the Cape this year.  The kids were tickled to get to experience Christmas morning in a different place, and were careful to note the change of address in their letters to Santa. 

Santa, for his part, was none too happy about the extra mileage.


Nevertheless, he arrived on schedule, with NORAD surveillance hot on his trail.

Earlier on Christmas Eve, the boys, vibrating with anticipation, finished their dinners early and then proceeded to sneak off and quietly change into their pajamas, go to the bathroom, and brush their teeth—activities that are rarely accomplished without a fair amount of cattle-prodding.  The sudden quiet alerted my spider senses.  I arrived on the scene to find the two little stinkers in bed with the lights off—at 6 o’clock!

I did a few calculations in my head:

                They get up at 6 a.m. normally
        +
                On Christmas, it’ll probably be more like 5
        +
                They’re going to bed 2 hours early
                ______________________________

                Oh, shit, I’m going to have to get up at 3 o’clock in the morning!

Spurred into action, I flipped the lights back on, threw back the covers, and jabbed fingers into their ribs until all visions of sugarplums disappeared into a cloud of giggles.  Then I heard something very out of character come out of my mouth: Get up and go watch TV.  The two fleecy bundles skipped down the hall and pig-piled onto the couch.  Either way, Christmas came early for my kids.

We got up at a merciful hour the next morning to squeals of delight over Lego sets and Pillow Pets, Hess trucks and a seriously cool electronic snap circuit set, comic books and bird books and mushroom identification books.  (Hey, I can squeal if I want!)  Then we admired our new toys over bacon strata, lobster quiche, and this cranberry buckle I brought. 




Cranberry Buckle with Vanilla Crumb

I’ve added more cranberries to the original recipe.  More!  This is Cape Cod,
after all.

Topping
½ cup flour
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. packed light brown sugar
Pinch fine sea salt
¼ cup (4 Tbsp.) cold, unsalted butter, cut into ¼ inch cubes
1½ tsp. vanilla extract

Cake
1¾ cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. fine sea salt
½ cup unsalted butter
¾ cup granulated sugar
Zest of 1 orange
2 eggs
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
½ cup sour cream
3 cups fresh cranberries, 1 cup reserved for topping

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Butter a 9-inch square baking pan.

Using a food processor, combine flour, sugar, brown sugar, salt, and butter.  Pulse until you get coarse crumbs.  Drizzle vanilla over the mixture and pulse briefly to distribute.  Set aside.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt.  Using a handheld mixer or a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar, and orange zest on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, 3-5 minutes.  Add the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition, then stir in the vanilla.  Add the flour mixture in three installments, alternating with sour cream and ending with the last of the flour, scraping down the sides of the bowl.  Fold in 2 cups of cranberries, reserving the remaining cup for topping. 

Spread mixture into prepared pan.  Distribute remaining cranberries on top and sprinkle crumb topping over the cranberries.  Bake about 50 minutes, or until lightly golden and firm on top.  Let cool.  (Wrapped in plastic wrap, this cake will keep at room temperature for 2 to 3 days.)

Source: Adapted from Rustic Fruit Desserts by Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson.  This is one of my favorite cookbooks of the year, and one that will likely come up again in the summertime.

Cookbook Winner and Consolation Cupcakes

Wow, guys, you don’t make things easy for a ruthless dictator, do you?  So many great stories about Flour Bakery, from weddings saved by doughnuts and brioche, to a cross-continental flight undertaken in the name of sticky buns, even a brush with celebrity.  In the end, and after much deliberation, I declare Manasi the winner of the Flour cookbook for demonstrating a deep and long-abiding love for the bakery, which remains as such despite the fact that she is now stuck in med school out in Worcester.  A worse fate, I cannot imagine.  Get this girl some sticky buns stat!

As for the rest of you, I have the recipe for Flour’s popular chocolate cupcakes, which I hope will distract you from any coups.  I let the 5YO select today’s recipe since he is the keeper of all of my dessert cookbooks in a stack next to his bed.  That is actually how he learned to read—by flipping through cookbooks with me, learning the correct pronunciations for “ganache,” “brioche,” and “meringue” (though, for the latter, I much prefer his own interpretation, “mangaroo”). 

The 5YO was particularly taken with the photo of these cupcakes and what was billed as “crispy magic frosting.”  I’ll admit, I was, too.  They turned out fantastic and they have since superseded all others as our go-to cupcake and frosting recipe.  I have a feeling this is going to make at least one of my readers (hi Marika!) very happy!


Flour Bakery’s Chocolate Cupcakes with Crispy Magic Frosting

Cupcakes
2 oz. unsweetened chocolate, chopped
¼ cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1 cup granulated sugar
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1/3 cup water
½ cup milk
1 egg
1 egg yolk
½ tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. kosher salt

Frosting
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 egg whites
1½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature, cut into chunks
1 2/3 cups confectioner’s sugar
¼ tsp. kosher salt
2 Tbsp. milk
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract

In a small heatproof bowl, combine the chocolate and cocoa powder.  In a small saucepan, heat the granulated sugar, butter, and water over medium-high heat, whisking occasionally, for 3 to 4 minutes, or until the butter is melted and the sugar is dissolved.  Pour the hot butter-sugar mixture over the chocolate-cocoa mixture and whisk until the chocolate is completely melted and the mixture is homogenous.  Whisk the milk, egg, yolk, and vanilla into the chocolate mixture until thoroughly combined.

In a bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until well mixed.  Dump the flour mixture on top of the chocolate mixture.  Whisk until are totally combined.  Let the batter sit for at least 1 hour at room temperature (or transfer to an airtight container and store in the fridge for up to 3 days).

Heat the oven to 350°F.  Butter and flour a standard 12-cup muffin tin, or line with paper liners.  Spoon the batter into the prepared muffin cups, dividing evenly and filling the cups just shy of the rim.  Bake 25-30 minutes, or until the tops spring back when pressed.  Let pan cool completely on a wire rack.

Meanwhile, in a small heatproof bowl or the top half of a double-boiler, whisk together the granulated sugar and egg whites to make a thick slurry.  Place over a saucepan of simmering water (not touching the water) and heat, whisking occasionally, for 3 to 5 minutes or until the mixture is hot to the touch.  Remove from heat and scrape the mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whip attachment (or use a handheld mixer).  Whip on medium-high speed for 6 to 8 minutes, or until the mixture becomes a light, white meringue and is cool to the touch.  Turn down the speed to medium and add butter, a few chunks at a time, beating for 3 to 4 minutes or until the butter is fully incorporated.  Add the confectioner’s sugar, salt, milk, and vanilla, and continue to beat on medium speed until the mixture is smooth and satiny.  You should have about 3½ cups.  Use immediately, or transfer to an airtight container and store at room temperature for up to 3 days, or in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.  (If storing, beat with a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment for a few minutes until smooth before using.)

Remove the cupcakes from the muffin tin.  Spread the frosting on the cupcakes with a spatula or fit a pastry bag with a small round or star tip, fill the bag with frosting, and pipe frosting onto the cupcakes.  They are best eaten immediately, but can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for 2 days.

Source: Joanne Chang’s Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston’s Flour Bakery + Café. 

Almond Cheesecake with Fig Confiture

All right, I think I’m done ranting about grocery shopping.  No, wait…okay, yes, I’m done.  I feel so much better now.  My apologies to the West Coasters who have an entirely different checkout culture.  It’s just that I’m feeling very pressed for time, generally speaking, as if I have to cram 40 years of living into the next five years just in case.  I don’t want to be stuck in line the whole time.  Focusing my energies in the form of mentally hating unsuspecting strangers maybe isn’t the best way to seize the day, but, you know, it was worth a try.

Let’s now direct our attention towards the cheesecake.  After all, that was the reason I was at the grocery store in the first place.  To get cheese and figs.  I was concocting a birthday dinner for my BFF, which included a homemade porchetta and various roasted fall vegetables from my winter farmshare. I thought almond cheesecake in an amaretti crust with fig preserves dribbled over the side would be the perfect seasonal ending to the meal.  I was not wrong.  For a change.

This cheesecake is excellent: smooth and rich with just the right amount of almond flavor.  I’ve made it many times.  The secret is almond paste (similar to marzipan) whipped into the filling.  You can use a regular graham cracker crust instead of my amaretti/graham cracker crumb combo.  Crushed almond biscotti would also be nice.  Start a day ahead if you want to make the fig topping because the fruit needs to macerate overnight.  If figs aren’t really your thing, you can serve the cake with whatever preserved or fresh seasonal fruit you like.  Blackberries.  Sour cherries.  The world is your orchard.

Almond Cheesecake

Freeze any remaining almond paste for future baking: macaroons, pignoli cookies, croissants (or another almond cheesecake!). 

Crust
1¼ cup crushed amaretti cookies (I use the food processor)
¾ cup graham crackers crumbs
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted

Filling
½ cup sugar
4 oz. almond paste
2 8-oz. packages cream cheese, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 large eggs
½ cup heavy cream
¼ tsp. almond extract

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Combine amaretti and graham cracker crumbs in a small bowl and mix in melted butter.  Press over bottom and 1 inch up sides of 9-inch springform pan.  Bake until crust starts to color, about 10 minutes.  Cool.

In a food processor, blend sugar and almond paste until mixture resembles a fine meal, about 1 minute.  Add half of cream cheese and process until smooth.  Add remaining cream cheese and process until completely smooth and no graininess remains.  Add eggs, cream, and almond extract, and blend until just combined.  Pour filling into crust. 

Bake cake until just set in the center and beginning to crack at the edges, about 40 minutes.  Turn off oven and open oven door to let the cake cool slowly for about 20 minutes.  A gradual cool-down helps to minimize cracking.  Take cake out of oven and let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate until well chilled.  If your cheesecake cracks, it’s no big deal.  These minor imperfections give things character.  Run knife carefully along edge of springform pan, unbuckle ring, and remove cake.  Slice and serve with...

Fig Confiture

These preserves would also dress up a Thanksgiving cheese plate alongside Manchego or a local blue goat cheese, for example.

1 lb. figs, both ends trimmed
2 cups sugar
¼ cup honey
½ lemon, zested and juiced
1 bay leaf
¼ tsp. wild fennel pollen or fennel seed (optional)

Cut figs into quarters and add to a medium bowl.  Gently mix in sugar, honey, lemon juice, bay leaf, and fennel pollen.  Let sit in the fridge overnight.

In a medium pot, bring mixture to a full boil and skim off the foam.  (The foam is delicious, by the way, it just clouds up the finished product.)  Reduce heat slightly to keep things boiling without overflowing the pot.  Cook, stirring occasionally, about five minutes.  You want the syrup to be somewhat loose for the purpose of cheesecake topping.  If you boil it too long, you’ll end up with a thick jam more suitable for biscuits.  Ladle into a pint jar and keep refrigerated until ready to use.  Before serving, let the preserves warm at room temperature to loosen up a bit, if necessary.  

Sources: Cheesecake adapted from Bon Appétit.  Fig confiture adapted from Saving the Season, a wonderful preservation-themed blog that you should check out right now at its new location!

Making Madeleines

To kick off our experimental loaner program, one of the first things I borrowed from The Concord Shop was a madeleine pan.  I’ve never made madeleines before because I’ve never had the required pan, and I try not to make a habit of buying one-use items.  Even one-use items that result in delicate, lemony teacakes.

[Husband would just like to interject to say that I have PLENTY of one-use-items, and he will refer you to Exhibit A: the cake pedestal.  Which, yes, I own.  And I will readily admit that not very many meticulously constructed, pedestal-worthy cakes get made on my watch.  However, I got that cake pedestal as a wedding gift.  I merely added it to the registry.  If somebody else agreed that, yes, I should have a cake pedestal on my wedding day, that, in fact, one’s wedding day is the perfect day for such a gift, then I think certain husbands should take that up with the friend in question, not me.  And, anyway, if you can’t satisfy your deepest, most profound culinary desires on your wedding day, then I’d like to know when you can.]

So, madeleines.  Right.  By law, I am now required to talk about Marcel Proust and his early childhood memories of France conjured up by tea-soaked madeleines in his epic, semi-autobiographical novel In Search of Lost Time.  I have not read this book, nor do I have any similar nostalgic remembrances to report.  My only memory of madeleines are from a Madrid subway station during my junior year abroad, where I purchased something billed as a madeleine and was struck by how genuinely tasty it was.  This, I remember thinking, really illustrates the difference between Europe and the U.S.  In Europe, you can buy quality confections in the bowels of the subway.  Some days later, I returned to that same subterranean pastry case and bought a cream-filled something or other, and just barely made it to my stop before I threw up the whole curdled mess.  It would seem that all of my autobiographical stories come back to vomit.

But not anymore.  Here’s what madeleines conjure up to me now: a pleasant and windy Sunday afternoon spent nibbling the soft, buttery cakes with a mug of chamomile tea while everyone else was watching the football game.  Warmth and comfort.  Now I’m thinking a madeleine pan might be a one-use item I could stand to have around. 

 

Madeleines 

This makes enough batter to fill one standard-sized madeleine pan, plus a little extra for eating straight out of the bowl.  No one, not even Proust, will cure me of that habit.

2/3 cup all-purpose flour
¾ tsp. baking powder
Pinch of salt
½ cup sugar
Grated zest of 1 lemon
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
Confectioner’s sugar for dusting

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt.

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or in a large bowl), rub the sugar and lemon zest together with your fingertips until the sugar is moist and fragrant.  Add the eggs to the bowl.  Working with the whisk attachment (or a hand mixer), beat the eggs and sugar together on medium-high speed until pale, thick, and light (2-3 minutes).  Beat in the vanilla.  With a rubber spatula, very gently fold in the dry ingredients, followed by the melted butter.  Press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface of the batter and refrigerate at least 3 hours, or up to 2 days.  This relaxes the gluten and makes a more tender cake.

Preheat the oven to 400°F and center a rack in the oven.  Take one end of a stick of butter and apply a thick, chapstick-like coating to the madeleine pan.  Use a paper towel to smear the butter entirely into the crevices.  Dust the insides with flour and tap out excess.  Place the pan on a baking sheet.  Spoon the batter into the molds, filling them not quite to the top.  Batter will spread in the oven, so don't worry about smoothing the tops.  You don't want to deflate your lovely batter.  If you accidentally overfill the molds, you will end up with a lip around the edges like mine, which is only a very minor aesthetic issue.   Bake 11 to 13 minutes, or until the tops are golden and the tops spring back when touched.  Remove from oven and rap edge of pan against the counter to release the madeleines, nudging them out with your fingers.  Transfer cakes to a rack to cool.  Dust with sifted confectioner’s sugar before serving.

Source: Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

Local Business Credits:
Madeleine pan, green Emile Henry mug: The Concord Shop, Concord, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Eggs: Chip-in Farm, Bedford, MA