a little zaftig » Most Popular Posts

Crispy French Toast

Laura — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 21:53:35 +0000

The house is quiet now—very, very quiet. I return in distracted moments to small things: the view of the bare branches of the trees against the sky from the chair I read in, the deep blue sky beginning to glow just before the sun rises as I drive my Sweet Boy to high school. It’s just the two of us now. I’m beginning to enjoy the good parts of that: dan dan noodles and wrinkled Szechuan green beans and a movie together; dancing in the kitchen; walks, mostly in silence, just the two of us; and time to talk after school and in the evening each day about everything that occupies the mind of a 17-year old boy. These things are gifts in my Dear Husband’s absence. I baked a homey apple cake this weekend and cleaned the house and slept for the first time since mid-August, and I feel a little more alive again. These things are gifts, too. My Sweet Boy and I are going to cook Thanksgiving dinner together this year, but we have a few days before we start dry brining a turkey and rolling out piecrust and tackling our list of sides. In the meantime, I’m going to recreate a crispy French toast we had years ago at a greasy spoon in St. Paul, when we were all together, laughing and mopping up syrup.

Crispy French Toast
Yield: 6 thick slices

Ingredients:
An unsliced loaf of good white bread
3 c. corn flakes cereal
3 eggs
½ c. cream, or half and half, or whole milk
½ t. vanilla extract
Canola oil (or other neutral oil) for the pan
Pure maple syrup (See how it’s made here.)

Method:

Slice the bread with a serrated bread knife into 1 ½” slices.

In a plastic zip-top bag, crush the corn flakes with a rolling pin until they are small pieces and not yet dust. Place them in a shallow bowl large enough to dip a piece of bread, or on a plate.

In a shallow bowl large enough to dip a slice of bread, beat together the eggs, milk, and vanilla.

Heat a griddle or fry pan filled with ¼” of oil over medium heat until it is 312 degrees F, or a small piece of bread sizzles when dropped into the oil.

Line up the bread, the egg mixture, and the corn flakes to the right of your griddle.

Dip a slice of bread into the egg mixture, soak it, and turn it over to soak the other side.

Dip both sides of the bread into the corn flakes and place it gently onto the griddle or frying pan.

Repeat to fill the pan with slices. Do not overcrowd the pan, as your oil temperature will drop too much.

Fry the French toast until it is golden brown and crisp, about three minutes. Then turn each slice gently and fry until golden brown and crisp.

Serve with pure maple syrup.

Rhubarb Baked Oatmeal

Laura — Thu, 26 May 2011 13:17:39 +0000

It has rained and rained and then rained some more here this spring. So it’s put us in the mood for something warm and comforting for breakfast. I sweetened my version of baked oatmeal with rhubarb sauce, and then a couple of days later with rhubarb conserve, and scattered the top with diced rhubarb, which roasts as the oatmeal bakes up. If you don’t have rhubarb sauce or conserve, substitute an equal amount of sugar or any other sweetener you like.

Rhubarb Baked Oatmeal
Ingredients:
butter for the baking dish
2 c. rolled oats
1 t. baking powder
½ t. salt
½ c. milk
½ c. half and half
1 egg
½ c. rhubarb sauce (recipe here) or substitute rhubarb compote or conserve or an equal amount of sugar
¼ c. melted butter
1 c. diced rhubarb
2 T. sugar

Method:

Generously butter an eight-inch square baking dish and preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

Toss the oats, baking powder, and salt together in the baking dish.

In a medium bowl, mix together the milk, half and half, egg, rhubarb sauce, and melted butter until they are well combined.

Pour it over the oats and toss them together.

In a small bowl, toss together the diced rhubarb and sugar.

Scatted the rhubarb over the oats.

Bake until the oatmeal is toasted on top and creamy in the center, about 30 minutes.

Serve warm with a pour of cold cream, half and half, or milk.

Champagne Jelly

Laura — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 20:58:40 +0000

Yesterday a childhood friend from France came for a visit. I served caramel rolls and pecan sticky buns and cinnamon rolls and pots of coffee. And then we moved on to champagne. I had half a bottle left and decided this morning to mold it into a shimmering champagne jelly. I used a small mold, but you could use a couple of bottles of champagne and a standard mold if you were making this with a plan and for a group. It couldn’t be easier. Warmed, with a wee bit of sugar for some added sweetness and some plain gelatin whisked in, it will be set in a few hours. I am going to serve it with some barely sweetened and softly whipped cream tonight. It’s a nice way to use up leftover bubbly and makes a sweet and easy finish for a weeknight supper. It would be lovely, too, on an Easter buffet. I couldn’t resist a tumble of these golden raspberries as a garnish.

Champagne Jelly
Yield: 1 16-ounce molded gelatin, about four to six small servings

Ingredients:
½ bottle champagne
2 T. sugar
2 packets (½ oz.) unflavored gelatin

Method:

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, bring the champagne to a simmer.

Whisk in the sugar and sprinkle the gelatin across the top. Whisk it in vigorously.

Simmer for a minute.

Pour the champagne into a small mold and refrigerate it until it is set, about 3 hours.

To unmold the jelly, pull the jelly gently away from its mold with your fingertips to encourage it to release. Then center a plate over the mold with the serving side of the plate touching the mold. Holding them tightly together, flip them over, so the the mold is upside down and the plate is right side up. Remove the mold. The jelly should be wiggling happily on the plate. If it is being a little stubborn, you may dip the bottom of the mold into hot water for a few seconds until it is willing to slither out.

Bread and Jam for Frances & Spaghetti and Meatballs

Laura — Wed, 30 Mar 2011 22:43:20 +0000

This is the first in a new series of posts. So many of my happiest hours were spent reading to my two children and cooking together. And so many splendid picture books lend themselves to a particular recipe, sometimes more. When my Honey Girl and Sweet Boy were little ones, we walked to the library with our wagon in tow every week. They could fill the wagon as high as was possible with books, and we’d walk home with it wibble-wobbling behind us, with books threatening to topple and held steady by little hands. During the winter, if it was terribly cold or the sidewalks were too icy, we loaded the wagon into the trunk of our car and hauled it into the library. At home, we would work our way through the stacks, setting aside the best books. Then we would read those, over and over and over again, sometimes until my voice was hoarse. Each of us had favorites for the week; our Honey Girl preferred silly books, our Sweet Boy loved books with a lovely music about them, and I favored sweet storytelling. But we all loved that time together on our ratty sofa. “Again, again, again!” my sweet ones would chirp. And I would begin again.

The first book I’ve picked is Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban, illustrated by Lillian Hoban; I think we must have read it three hundred times. It was my favorite book as a girl, and my two peanuts loved it, too. Frances the badger loves bread and jam, and has interest in eating little else. Her story unfolds over the breakfast and dinner tables of her sweet badger family, and at school, over desktop lunches with her friend, Albert. When Frances grows weary of bread and jam, she is finally beguiled by a plate of her mother’s spaghetti and meatballs. Russell Hoban’s descriptions of Frances and her family, their quiet exchanges, Frances’ and Albert’s lunches, and Frances’ little songs are charming. And Lillian Hoban’s pencil illustrations are tender and evocative. Curl up with it, and then make some spaghetti and meatballs together. And when you eat them, like Frances, make the meatballs, the tomato sauce, and the spaghetti come out even.

Spaghetti and Meatballs
Yield: four generous adult servings, plus leftovers

Ingredients:
1 recipe meatballs (recipe below)
1 recipe tomato sauce (recipe below)
1 pound spaghetti
finely grated Parmigiano Reggiano

Method:

Make the tomato sauce.

While it simmers, make the meatballs.

When it’s time to add the sauce to the meatballs, bring a large covered pot of water to a boil over high heat.

When it reaches a boil, add some salt and the spaghetti. Stir the pasta so that it won’t stick. Reduce the heat a bit, so that the water will not boil over, but will maintain a rolling boil. Cook according to the package directions, or until it is tender but still has a little bite.

Drain the pasta into a colander.

Plate some spaghetti, top it with a couple of meatballs and a ladle of sauce. Grate some Parmigiano Reggiano over the top.

Tips:
If you can’t find strained tomatoes or passata, you can puree tins of whole tomatoes in a food processor or blender.

You know the child(ren) in your life best, but it’s probably not a good idea to have the very young handle raw meat or roll the meatballs, as they might touch their faces. Raw meat can harbor pathogens. There are lots of other ways they can help with this meal.

Simple Tomato Sauce
Yield: 6 c. sauce

Ingredients:
48 ounces strained tomatoes or passata (pureed tomatoes) (I prefer BioNaturae brand.)
2 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled
A pinch of sugar
Salt and pepper to taste
2 t. dried oregano
a handful of fresh basil leaves, roughly torn

Method:

Place all of the ingredients into a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir them together, and bring the sauce to a simmer.

Reduce the heat to the lowest possible setting and allow the sauce to simmer. You will pour it over the meatballs later.

Meatballs
Yield: 15 meatballs

Ingredients:
1 pound ground beef
1 pound ground pork
4 extra large eggs
1 c. Italian breadcrumbs, such as Progresso
1 t. red pepper flakes (optional)
1 T. fennel seed (optional)
1 c. finely grated Parmigiano Reggiano
salt and pepper

Method:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

Place all of the ingredients in a large bowl and mix them together with your hands until they are well blended.

Using the palms of your hands, roll the mixture into balls a little smaller than a tennis ball.

As you make them, place the meatballs into a large baking dish. (I use a 9×13” glass baking dish.)

Bake the meatballs for 25 minutes.

Pour the tomato sauce over the meatballs and bake for an additional 20 minutes. (You may have extra sauce.)

Graham Cracker Pancakes + Exciting News

Laura — Sat, 26 Mar 2011 03:28:17 +0000

My Honey Girl and I went maple sugaring this week, at a small family farm in Delano, Minnesota. The article I wrote about it will soon be published in Honest Cooking magazine. It’s my first piece as a contributing writer for them, and I’m quite excited about it. In the meantime, we are lapping up the finished maple syrup made by the Hoen family on these silky-tender pancakes, and planning some other maple syrupy recipes in which it will play the starring role. It’s the best maple syrup I’ve ever had, bar none, a little thicker than most and with a pure maple flavor. We all stood around the griddle this afternoon, haggling and dickering for the last pancake while we licked our plates and wished we had bought more syrup. According to our Honey Girl’s Mr. Right, these are the best pancakes he’s ever had. I’ll take that as a mighty compliment coming from a Southern boy who loves to eat. In fact, I think they’re so good they might need a recipe category of their own: Aces? Champs? Nonpareils? Just make some.

(*There has been some chatter on boards about going out to Delano to get syrup. The Hoens make syrup at their private home; please do not disturb them. Their syrup is available at the Excelsior Farmers’ Market.)

Graham Cracker Pancakes
Yield: ten five-inch diameter pancakes

Ingredients:
1 c. all purpose flour (I prefer King Arthur.)
1 generous c. very finely crushed graham cracker crumbs (from 9 graham crackers)
1 T. baking powder
¼ c. brown sugar
a pinch of salt
½ t. freshly grated nutmeg
1 t. ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
1 ½ c. buttermilk
1 ¼ c. whole milk
¼ c. (½ stick) unsalted butter, melted
canola or other neutral oil for the griddle

Method:

In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, graham cracker crumbs, baking powder, brown sugar, salt, nutmeg, and cinnamon.

In a small bowl, beat the eggs with a fork and stir in the buttermilk, milk, and melted butter.

Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients with a fork, mixing only until combined. There will be lumps in the batter. Do not overmix. (The batter will thicken as it rests while you heat up a griddle or pan.)

Heat a griddle or large frying pan over medium heat. When it is hot, drizzle in a little oil. When the oil is hot, pour in ½ c. batter per pancake.

Fry the pancakes until bubbles form across the top and the edges look dry.

Flip each pancake and fry on the other side.

Add a bit more oil to the pan with each batch to fry.

Serve hot with butter and maple syrup. (Pure maple syrup is best.)

A Banana Bread Spectacular :: From Plain Jane Loaf to Homey Dessert: Banana Bread Sautéed in Clarified Butter with Caramelized Bananas & Flaming Whisky Sauce, Tea Cake with Celtic Crossing Frosting, and More!

Laura — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 22:31:03 +0000

Our Sweet Boy Freddy woke up to a happy surprise. His friend Carly came over to bake with me Sunday morning. Much silliness ensued.

I told my friend William yesterday that I suffer from recipe brain. It’s a blessing, until it isn’t. It wakes me up, keeps me up, and seldom lets me rest. I see images, literally, of recipes, ideas for any ingredient I see, and how to take something I’ve made, a custard or a jam or a loaf of bread, say banana bread, and turn it into something else. So that’s what I’m up to today, sharing some of the thoughts that popped into my head when I used up some overripe bananas with Carly.

I think everyone should have one really good recipe for all of the basics. This banana bread is the best I’ve ever had. I may be a bit biased since it’s my great aunt’s recipe, which I’ve tweaked just a little over the years, but when I made it for a friend some years ago, she hunted all over the Twin Cities for it, thinking it had come from a pastry shop. It’s ultra moist—almost bread pudding-esque—sweet and homey.

This is how I remember my great aunt, whom I called Grandma Sherry: sweet, old school Catholic, the kind of person who dreamed of having a grand stone fireplace and who painted one on the wall of her modest house with little pots of color from the craft store. When she was older and I lived nearby, I used to bring her dinner every afternoon and then we’d have cocoa and a little chat. I learned that she was a feisty, daring young woman—a kind of uber-cool ingénue. She changed her name from Kaye to Sherry because she thought it more sophisticated, dropped out of school, and met her then-boyfriend Mac who worked on the railroad for late-night dates in the city. She’s pictured above on the right with my grandma. And here, the two of them off to my grandma’s wedding in St. Paul.

I like this bread best unadorned with a cold glass of milk. It’s the perfect after school nibble or mid-afternoon pick me up.

But it’s also nice as a simple teacake with a little Celtic Crossing frosting. (We added a few chocolate chips to a couple loaves just for Carly.)

And if the loaf has lasted more than ten minutes, it’s also delicious sliced and toasted with a bit of mascarpone laced with powdered sugar and Celtic Crossing liqueur.

When I’m feeling fancy, I might caramelize some bananas slices, add some whisky and extra butter to the pan and light it ablaze tableside to be spooned over the sautéed slices of bread. (Pyrotechnics not pictured.) A little plain whipped cream or whipped crème fraiche on top would be nice, too. If you refrigerate the banana bread before you make it this way, the contrast of temperatures is appealing, and the bread has an exceptionally creamy texture. Serve with a dram of whisky and toast to Grandma Sherry!

Banana Bread
Yield: two loaves (I like to eat one loaf and pop the other in the freezer so that I can make an impromptu dessert later.)

Ingredients:
¼ c. shortening (Don’t overthink it. Just plop it in.)
½ c. unsweetened applesauce
2 c. sugar
2 eggs
3 c. all purpose flour
1 t. salt
1 t. baking soda
1 c. milk (I use whole milk but any milk you have will work.)
1 t. vinegar
2 t. vanilla extract
3 large overripe bananas, mashed until they are liquid

Method:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

Grease and flour two bread pans.

Mash the bananas until they are liquid.

Cream the shortening and the sugar.

Add the applesauce and mix thoroughly.

Add the eggs and mix thoroughly.

Sift the flour, baking soda, and salt.

Add the vinegar to the milk and allow it to sit for a few moments.

Add the dry ingredients alternately with the milk to the batter, mixing gently between additions. I add half the flour, then half the milk, then half the flour, then half the milk.

Add the bananas and the vanilla and mix gently.

Divide the batter evenly into two loaf pans and smooth the tops.

Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out nearly clean. Do not overbake.

Cool in pans for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the breads and remove them from their pans. Finish cooling on a rack. When cool, wrap tightly in cellophane and then foil.

This bread may be stored at room temperature, wrapped well, for several days. It is also delicious served cold from the refrigerator.

The bread may be wrapped in cellophane and then foil and stored in the freezer. Bring to room temperature on the countertop.

Celtic Crossing Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients:
8 ounces cream cheese
½ c. unsalted butter, softened
¼ c. Celtic Crossing liqueur
1 1/3 c. powdered sugar

Method:

Mix all ingredients until creamy and smooth.

Sautéed Banana Bread

Ingredients:
1 loaf banana bread, sliced
a knob of butter (or clarified butter if you have some), about 3T.

Method:

In a large sauté pan, melt the butter over medium heat.

Add the banana bread slices in a single layer and fry lightly until golden brown.

Flip the slices and fry the other side until golden brown.

Serve immediately.
This is delicious topped with Sweet Mascarpone with Celtic Crossing Liqueur or with Caramelized Bananas with Flaming Whisky Sauce and Whipped Cream or Whipped Crème Fraiche, all below. If you don’t want to fuss with these, it’s nice with a dusting of powdered sugar. I could go on all day, but let me just add that it’s also wonderful as the basis for bread pudding.

Sweet Mascarpone with Celtic Crossing Liqueur

Ingredients:
8 ounces mascarpone
powdered sugar to taste, about ½ c.
a little dribble of vanilla extract, about 1 t.
a good dribble of Celtic Crossing Liqueur, about 3 T.

Method:

Mix all ingredients until creamy and smooth.

You may substitute any liqueur that appeals to you, of course. A bit of orange zest might also make a nice addition.

Caramelized Bananas with Flaming Whisky Sauce
Yield: 4 to 6 servings

Ingredients:
2 bananas, sliced
a good knob of butter, perhaps 3 T.
a generous sprinkle of brown sugar, about ¼ c.
a few glugs of whisky, about ¼ c.

Method:

In a large sauté pan, melt the butter.

Add the banana slices and the sugar.

Cook until the sugar melts and the bananas take on a nice bit of color.

Add the whisky and ignite it. (Be careful!)

Continue to cook after the flames die down until the sauce is a nice syrupy consistency.

A few toasted pecans or walnuts or spiced nuts might make a nice garnish.

Simplest Whipped Cream or Whipped Crème Fraiche

Ingredients:
1 c. cold heavy cream or crème fraiche
sugar to taste, perhaps ¼ c.
a little dribble of vanilla extract, perhaps 1 t.
You may add a dribble of any complimentary liqueur, too.

Method:

Add the cream or crème fraiche, the sugar and the vanilla to a cold metal bowl.

Whip the cream or crème fraiche until soft peaks form.

Vanilla Custard

Laura — Sat, 05 Mar 2011 19:48:03 +0000

I made coconut macaroons yesterday. This recipe is an Ole to their Lena, a Hardy to their Laurel. It’s a pairing recipe in every sense, a frugal sister to egg-white only recipes, and a happy partner for a crumble or a figgy pudding or a slice of chocolate cake. You could eat it with a spoon, a kind of childhood dessert, simple and comforting, and oft overlooked. But I think it’s best as half of a pair. And it’s awfully nice to have a little jar of vanilla custard in the refrigerator when the mood strikes. You’ll find yourself dribbling it on all sorts of things—into a pool over a sugared biscuit, or nested in a trifle between layers of sherry-soaked gènoise and homemade jam. I first had this kind of pourable custard when I was a student at Oxford, with a gooseberry crumble, a doubly happy discovery. I was a visiting student at Keble College, and I had finally learned that if you didn’t get your paws in there to grab the family style platters of the night’s offerings, you might sit the entire dinner, quietly and politely, holding up a platter in the hopes that one of the waitstaff would kindly refill it. Alas, you might also walk away hungry. I was even more shy then than I am now, so I left more than once without a single morsel crossing my lips. (Thank goodness for pub grub. ) But on a student budget, I eventually learned to get in there and fight for my supper. English students, I should clarify, were otherwise extrememly polite; conversation was lofty (when it wasn’t banal) and manners were definitely on display. Thank goodness I got my act together before they served the gooseberry crumble with a pourable, old-fashioned custard like this one. Mine is a little less gummy than the version served in the Keble dining hall. It’s thicker than crème anglaise but not quite a pudding, a dreamy partner for just about anything sweet, and especially so for anything tart. Since it only takes a few minutes to stir up, bookmark it and make it when you next make something with egg whites and need an Astaire to your Rogers.

Vanilla Custard
Yield: about 1 ½ cups

Ingredients:
6 egg yolks
1 pint (2 c.) heavy cream (I love Cedar Summit Farms.)
1 vanilla bean (or a dribble of vanilla extract in a pinch)
¼ c. sugar

Method:

Fill your kitchen sink with a few inches of ice water. This will be your insurance policy against grainy or curdled custard.

Place the egg yolks in a medium saucepan and give them a quick whisk.

Add the cream and whisk together thoroughly.

Split the vanilla bean lengthwise and scrape out its pulp with the dull side of a knife.

Add the pulp and the vanilla bean to the pan and whisk together.

Whisk in the sugar.

Over medium heat, warm the soon-to-be custard, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Do not allow it to boil.

Stir more vigorously as the custard begins to thicken. Watch carefully here. You want a silky, thickened custard but do not want the custard to become grainy. Keep in mind that the chilled custard will be a bit thicker than the hot.

If your custard appears grainy, plunge the pan into the ice water in your sink, and whisk madly. It will come around. Actually, I always whisk it in the sink, as it brings the temperature of the custard down so that you can eat it sooner.

Cinnamon Cream Caramel Surprise Coconut Macaroons

Laura — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 17:28:59 +0000

I’ve been spending a good bit of time in the car recently, making trips down to St. Olaf College, my alma mater, in Northfield, Minnesota, which is about an hour away. Barbara Kingsolver has been my companion. (Books on tape, I love you.) I’m about ten hours into The Lacuna. It’s hard to imagine being distracted from Barbara’s prose, but the roads have been so bad this year, the worst in memory. I find myself distracted by images of horse and buggy. And then by memories of my Norwegian grandfather and his last car, a Lincoln Continental, which would make this trip so much smoother. Even in the late 1980s, it was a boat. How nice this drive would be with him. We’d wash over the soft waves of the potholes. And we could share a little box of the coconut macaroons that I just made. He would like that. We’d chat, the car bobbing, as we used to—about fishing and antacids and the wisdom of ordering a malt with dinner at the kind of place that you can do that, the usual nothings that meant so much. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful surprise, if we could conjure such things, if only for a few minutes? The surprise of my distracted thoughts got me thinking about culinary surprises, and about those macaroons sitting at home on my kitchen counter. Wouldn’t they be nice with their own surprise? An injection of caramel, maybe cinnamon cream caramel? This is how my brain works. Like a cat. (Pretty yarn. Pretty yarn.) The good news is that my little distractions lead to recipes like this. Not too bad for daydreaming.

Music for making Cinnamon Cream Caramel Coconut Macaroons:
A crooner my grandpa would approve of: Andy Williams’ Moon River

Cinnamon Cream Caramel Surprise Coconut Macaroons
Yield: four dozen cookies

Ingredients:
1 batch coconut macaroons (recipe below)
1 batch cinnamon cream caramel (recipe below)

Method:

When you caramel is cool enough to work with, fill a pastry bag fitted with a plain tip. Be careful. The trick here is waiting until you won’t get burned, but not so long that the caramel is thickening too much.

Take out an egg carton, place your eggs in a basket or bowl, and place a sheet of waxed paper or parchment over the carton. You’re going to nest your macaroons in the egg carton. Place them into the carton tops facing down, so that you can put a little caramel into the bottom of each cookie.

Inject a little squirt of caramel into the center of each one and allow the caramel to cool.

Remove the macaroons from their temporary nest, return your eggs to the carton, and enjoy!

Macaroon Tips
To separate an egg white, crack an egg in half. Pour the egg white out of one half of the shell and discard that half shell. Then, holding your hand over the measuring cup, gently pour the yolk into your hand. Allow the white to run through your hand and into the measuring cup below. Reserve the yolk for making custard or another yolk-rich dessert.

Coconut Macaroons
Yield: four dozen cookies

Ingredients:
1 c. egg whites
2 c. sugar
16 ounces unsweetened desiccated coconut

Method:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F and line two baking sheets with parchment.

Separate the whites from about seven eggs into a one-cup measure until you have one cup of egg whites.

In a large bowl, mix the egg whites and the sugar well.

Add the coconut and stir to mix.

Scoop out little macaroons using a tablespoon or a small scoop and place them on the baking sheet with ½“ between each cookie.

Bake for 12 minutes.

Rotate the trays from top to bottom and 180 degrees.

Bake for another 12 minutes.

Allow the cookies to cool to room temperature.

Store them between layers of waxed paper in a tin or other container. They will keep about one week.

Caramel Tips
Use a very large pan for this recipe in case it boils up.

I use a candy thermometer for this recipe, but you don’t have to purchase one to make it. In fact, I made it for many years without one. Have a saucer or small bowl of cold water ready at your side. When the caramel begins to thicken and darken a bit, begin dropping a dab of caramel onto the saucer. Give it a little pinch with your fingers. It’s ready when it forms a defined but very soft ball that you can squish easily.

If you’re using a candy thermometer, have a hot pad ready. The thermometer can become quite hot. And if your candy thermometer isn’t very tall, hold it rather than clipping it to the pan. If the caramel burbles up over the numbers you’ll be in a pickle.

If you’re using a digital thermometer, do not clip it to the side of the pan. The constant heat is hot a happy partner for its delicate innards, and mine have gone on the fritz and then died. Conventional candy thermometers are perfectly happy clipped to the side of the pan, and I recommend them over their high tech counterparts.

Use the best cream you can for this recipe. A higher butterfat content is better. I love Cedar Summit Farms’ luxurious cream.

Do not scrape the pan with a spatula when you pour the caramel. The caramel against the bottom and sides of the pan are hotter and will form a hard sheet in your caramel.

To fill a pastry bag, fold down the top of the bag a few inches. This will keep the top clean so that it will be easy to fold or twist the bag closed without a mess. Then fold the tip up against the bag. This will prevent the bag from leaking when you fill it. Place the bag, tip folded up, into a glass. Then fill, remove from the glass, and fold up or twist the top closed. Use gentle pressure at the top to pipe.

Store leftover caramel in a jar in the refrigerator, warm it, and drizzle over ice cream.

Cinnamon Cream Caramel

Ingredients:
2 c. sugar
1 T. ground cinnamon
¾ c. light corn syrup
½ c. unsalted butter
1 pint (2 c.) heavy cream

Method:

In a large pan, mix together all of the ingredients except one cup of the cream.

Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring constantly.

Gradually add the remaining one cup of cream.

Continue stirring. It will thicken significantly and darken a bit.

Cook almost to the soft ball stage, or to 230 degrees F, or until a dab dropped onto a saucer filled with cold water forms a very soft but defined ball. (See caramel tips above.)

Allow the caramel to cool at room temperature until it is cool enough to work with. Don’t wait too long or it will begin to solidify.

Homemade Cultured Butter Pressed with a Hand-carved Butter Mold

Laura — Tue, 01 Mar 2011 17:26:26 +0000

My Norwegian grandfather had something of a love affair with butter; he loved a pool in which to cook an egg or some hash, or a thick smear on toast. But mostly, it was his tableside companion at every home-cooked dinner I can remember eating with him, and he was not shy with it. A dinnertime ritual, stick of soft butter at his side, he would take a swipe of butter for his roll, cloverleaf or farmhouse, a drag through the gravy, pheasant or duck, and pop the mouthful into his gob, happy as a lad. He ate the better part of the stick. I always had the chair next to him, and I can remember being acutely aware of the butter, the generous sweep, his mouth full of butter, and another dip, and another, the roll disappearing, and the butter stick a little smaller with every bite. He would have loved this recipe.

I haven’t made butter since I was a schoolgirl, and I can remember the first time I did quite vividly. We shook little jars filled with cream until it separated into butter and buttermilk, and I was spellbound. It’s funny, really, the small moments that we remember. I can tell you the rules around the graham crackers and milk we ate at nursery school, about the details of the first fig cookie I ever ate, too.

I was ordering some cookie molds last month, to use next Christmas, when I saw this butter mold. It was so charming, and brought back memories of the excitement of making that butter. Gene Wilson hand-carves each of his beautiful wooden molds, and they are quite simple to use. I highly recommend them. Their details are lovely.

You could make butter by simply separating cream in a food processor, or even in a jar shaken vigorously. But I decided to try cultured butter after seeing it on the Playing With Fire and Water blog. There are excellent step-by-step photos of the process on Chef Linda’s blog. Cultured butter is made by introducing a culture, here the live culture in buttermilk, and by ripening the cream. Culturing creates a subtle flavor profile which intensifies the taste of the butter and creates a lovely, creamy mouthfeel. As it has a higher percentage of butterfat and no added water, it ideal for pastry such as laminated doughs. Of course, I think it’s ideal on a piece of toast or a stack of hot pancakes, too. I think I’ll make some tomorrow! Mmmm.

Note: These photographs are unaltered. I used Cedar Summit Farms’ incredible cream, and the resulting butter really is this lovely soft yellow.

Cultured Butter
Adapted from the Playing With Fire and Water blog
Yield: about one cup of butter and two cups of buttermilk

Ingredients:
3 c. heavy cream (not ultrapasteurized) (I love Cedar Summit Farms.)
1 c. buttermilk with live cultures

Method:
Day one:

Pour the cream and buttermilk into a medium bowl and cover loosely with a draped piece of aluminum foil.

Let the cream sit at room temperature until thickened, about 12 to 24 hours

Day two:

Cover the bowl tightly with cellophane and refrigerate for 8-12 hours.

Day three:

Chill the bowl and blade of a food processor in the refrigerator for an hour.

In the bowl of a food processor, process the cream until the butter separates from the buttermilk. Pay close attention to the process, and stop as soon as you see the buttermilk separate.

Separate the butter from the buttermilk by pouring it through a fine-mesh strainer placed over a medium bowl.

Fill a large bowl with ice and water.

In a medium bowl, place one cup of ice-cold water and the butter. Press the butter to remove as much buttermilk as possible.

Pour off the milky water and replace it with another cup of ice-cold water.

Continue this process until the butter is creamy and the water is increasingly clear.

Pour off the last of the water.

With a wooden spoon or paddle, work the butter in a folding motion until it is smooth and creamy.

Place the butter on several layers of cheesecloth or an immaculately clean and tightly woven kitchen towel. Press the butter once or twice.

Your butter is ready to be used or molded. It will keep in the refrigerator for about five days.

Butter Mold Tips

To mold the butter in a hand-carved wooden mold, place the mold into the freezer for 30 minutes.

Line a shallow container or a very small bowl with cellophane. I used a glass dessert cup.

Press the butter into the container and press the mold into the butter.

Refrigerate or freeze the butter and mold for about 30 minutes.

Using the point of a sharp knife, pry the mold from the butter.

Remove the butter from the container and pull away the cellophane. You may smooth any rough edges with a knife warmed under hot water.

Fennel & Almond Pound Cake with Sambuca Syrup

Laura — Fri, 25 Feb 2011 20:51:14 +0000

I used to love that little pinch of fennel seed and rainbow-colored licorice candy as I paid the check at our favorite Indian restaurant. Rory Gilmore ruined it for me with her, well, I’ve posted it below for those willing to risk never being able to enjoy his or her little pinch again.
…
From The Gilmore Girls
Mother and daughter Lorelai and Rory Gilmore discuss the progress of Rory’s date…
Lorelai: So the guy’s a dud?
Rory: Trevor’s fine, I’m moronic, I bring the conversation to a crashing halt every time I speak.
Lorelai: Where is he now?
Rory: In the bathroom, probably pondering my brilliant anecdote about urine mints…
Lorelai: What?
Rory: You know, when people go to the bathroom and they don’t wash their hands and they come out and take a mint.
Lorelai: [gasp] Oh my God, I’ve been eating those mints for years!

(See what I mean?)
…
I love all things licorice, so I always looked forward to it. I suppose I could go out and buy myself a box of Good & Plenty, but I never have. And I never buy licorice either, don’t know why. My Dear Husband has a theory about time and place and the pleasure of serendipity. We didn’t grow up in the digital age, so if you missed the A Charlie Brown Christmas because you were naughty or because your mom talked too long at church on Wednesday night (ugh), it was over. Over. You had to wait a year to see it again. Today, you could pull out your DVD copy and watch it any night, and, sadly, it’s not quite as magical anymore for just this reason. Stumble on something, or wait for it, and it’s imbued with a little magic. So, even though I knew that I could always have that little pinch of candy every time we went out for Indian, it was still a taste I had to wait for, and one made special by time and place. My Dear Husband still throws back a handful at the little hostess desk, but I just can’t. (Did you read the scene? You know it’s true.) Well, I was sipping a little glass of sambuca recently, the Italian anise-flavored liqueur, thinking about how madly in love with licorice I really am, when it occurred to me to drown a pound cake in the stuff (not really). The beauty of the Indian candy is the pairing of the fennel seed with the licorice, so I decided to grind some fennel seed for the cake. Ooh, it’s good. (Little dance here.) Now I (and you) can enjoy a slice of this cake, which has its own little bit of magic: dreaming it up, making it myself, and remembering the seven years my now-all-grown-up Honey Girl and I watched Gilmore Girls together.

Pound Cake Tips
This pound cake recipe does not include a leavening agent, such as baking soda or baking powder, which acts to make cakes rise as they bake. Beating air into the butter and sugar creates volume, but it takes time. The butter and sugar will be nearly white when ready and very fluffy. This takes perhaps five to ten minutes depending on the power of your mixer.

Don’t be afraid to really poke this cake all over, and spoon the syrup over it very, very slowly so that it soaks in.

Inexpensive kitchen scales are available now at discount stores such as Target. If you’re on the fence about buying one, take the plunge. Whenever you have the option to weigh your ingredients for baking, your final product will be better. Totally worth the $20.00!

When I use my kitchen scale, I like to place a sheet of waxed paper or parchment paper in the bowl. Lift two or three of the corners and easily transfer ingredients to your mixing bowl. No need to clean up between ingredients in the scale, too.

If you don’t want to bother making the sambuca syrup, just pour two shots of sambuca over each cake. Yummy, too, just a little stronger.

Fennel & Almond Pound Cake with Sambuca Syrup
Yield: two loaves

Ingredients:
1 pound of unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 pound of sugar
2 T. fennel seed, ground finely in a mortar and pestle or in a dedicated spice grinder
1 pound of eggs
a pinch of salt
2 t. almond extract
1 pound of all purpose flour (I prefer King Arthur.)

Method:

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Prepare two standard loaf pans by buttering them generously and dusting them with flour. (I use the butter wrappers to grease the pans.)

In an electric mixer, cream the butter, the sugar, and the ground fennel seed on high speed until they are very light and fluffy. Scrape down the bowl frequently.

Add the eggs, one at a time, beating between additions. Scrape down the bowl frequently.

Add the almond extract and mix.

Add the flour and salt and mix gently until it is just incorporated.

Divide the batter into your two pans and bake for 55 minutes, or until a toothpick pressed into the center of a loaf comes out clean.

While the cake bakes, stir up the syrup.

Allow the cakes to cool slightly. Then remove them from their pans by running a knife around the edge and inverting the pan gently into your towel-covered hand. Place the cakes on a cooling rack over waxed paper or a paper bag.

While the cakes are still warm, poke them all over with a toothpick or wooden skewer and pour the syrup slowly over the cakes.

Sambuca Syrup

Ingredients:
¼ c. sugar
¼ c. water
4 shots sambuca

Method:

Bring the sugar and water to a simmer in a small saucepan.

Remove from the heat and stir in the sambuca.

Kouign Amann

Laura — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 22:12:12 +0000

I don’t know whether to write a love poem to the Breton people, to David Lebovitz, or to kouign amann itself. Oh, I love you, all three of you! I have been daydreaming about a homemade kouign amann since I found out this week that a long lost friend from childhood has been living in France for the last 13 years. And then I found, serendipitously, that David Lebovitz, of pastry cheffing blogging book fame, had posted recently about kouign amann and had done the homework on perfecting a home recipe for them. (Curtsy now to David.)

Kouign amann, pronounced quinn ahmahn, means butter cake in the Breton language. It is a laminated dough laced with sugar and baked until it emerges from the oven, gloriously caramelized. If you’ve made Danish pastry, it’s a snap. If you’ve never made a laminated dough before, don’t be intimidated. It’s not difficult, it just requires that you set aside a morning or an afternoon to wait while it rises and rests between turns. And, let’s face it, the messiest attempts at laminated dough are pretty spectacularly delicious. Nom nom. Give it a try.

Kouign Amann Tips
Lamination is a baking term that refers to creating layers of pastry and butter. Butter is enclosed in an envelope of pastry. When the pastry is rolled and folded repeatedly, a process referred to as turns, it creates layers which rise during the baking process. Lamination is used to create puff pastry, Danish pastry, and croissants.

David recommends French butter. I used Plugra European-style butter with happy results. He also recommends adding some additional grains of coarse salt to the butter. It helps to approximate the flavor of Breton salted butter.

To knead dough, grasp the dough with your fist and press it down and away from you with the heel of your hand. Lift the dough and continue this motion, grabbing the dough, and pressing it away from you. The dough will become increasingly smooth and elastic.

David recommends keeping a bench or pastry scraper nearby in case your dough sticks to your countertop as you’re working. A bench scraper is basically the culinary version of a paint scraper. If you have one of those, and it’s immaculately clean, use it here in lieu of a bench scraper.

If you’re looking for a warm place in your home in which to rest dough, consider a closet through which a heating duct runs. A high shelf in such a closet is a very toasty place.

I used a 10-inch springform pan, which I wrapped tightly in aluminum foil. I placed it on a foil-lined baking sheet, as well.

Kouign Amann
From David Lebovitz
Yield: about eight to ten buttery servings

Ingredients:
1 T. dry yeast (not rapid rise)
¾ c. tepid water
2 c. all purpose flour (I prefer King Arthur.)
½ t. salt
1 c. sugar, divided, plus additional for rolling the pastry
½ c. salted European-style butter, such as Plugra, cut into ½ “ pieces and chilled
2 to 3 T. salted European-style butter, melted

Method:

In a medium bowl, stir together the yeast and the water with a pinch of sugar. Let the yeast rest until it blooms and becomes foamy, about 10 minutes.

Slowly add the flour and salt, stirring to combine. You are aiming for a soft dough that is not too sticky. If the dough is quite sticky, add a tablespoon of flour at a time until it is workable.

Dust your countertop lightly with flour and transfer the dough.

Knead the dough until it is smooth, about 3 minutes.

Brush a medium bowl with butter and place the dough in the bowl. Cover it and place it in a warm place for an hour.

Lightly dust your countertop with flour again and roll out the dough into a large rectangle 12” x 18,” short sides to your right and left.

Scatter the slices of butter across the pastry and sprinkle the dough with ¼ c. of the sugar.

Fold the short sides of the pastry in to the center, as you would fold a brochure.

Sprinkle the dough with sugar again and fold it as you would a brochure once again.

Wrap a plate in cellophane and place the dough on it. Refrigerate the pastry for one hour.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and sprinkle your countertop liberally with sugar. Place the dough on the sugar and top it with another ¼ c. of sugar.

Roll it into a large rectangle again.

Fold it as you would a brochure again, in thirds with short ends towards the center, and allow it to rest for another hour in the refrigerator.

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees F (220 degrees C) and brush a 9” pie plate with melted butter.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and roll it into a circle about 9” in diameter.

Use a bench scraper or two spatulas to transfer the dough to the pie plate.

Sprinkle the dough with ¼ c. sugar and 1 T. melted butter.

Bake 40 to 45 minutes, or until the pastry is deep golden brown.

Allow the finished cake to rest briefly. Then run a knife around the edge of the pan and transfer the cake to a cooling rack.