Blueberry Hibiscus Panna Cotta with Wild Blackberry Swirl

FORAGING

On the motionless branches of some trees, autumn berries hung like clusters of coral beads, 

as in those fabled orchards where the fruits were jewels . . . 

– Charles Dickens 

It was a beautiful day. Certainly not a day for sitting inside, even with the windows thrown open. This was not a day for work, for burying one’s head underneath a pile of papers and a heap of ideas. No, this was a glorious day for heading out of town, for a brisk country walk. This was a day for liberating both body and soul, getting a bit of fresh air and just thinking of other things. Little did we realize just what we would discover.

JP wanted to see the storks. There is a secluded, wild area, a bird reserve where storks gather and breed, high up on the perches built especially for them in the marshes outside of Nantes. Just slip on boots and wade thigh-high among the grasses and reeds and you will surely come upon families nesting. But a cross between having lost our rubber boots and having lost our map and nature guide book in the move (or not quite being able to put our fingers on them), and after circling around in the countryside a bit, we pulled the care over to the side of the road, climbed out, leashed Marty and just dove into the trees, taking the first path we came across.

An unexpected hot wind was blowing against us as we made our way past the cows and deep into pastureland. Marty, unused to the harsh conditions of the great outdoors as he is these days, not having really adventured outside with us for many months, was weaving in and out among the prickly grass, lifting his short legs as high as possible in a failed attempt to bypass the sharpness of the flora. He dashed for the rare spots of shade where he would plop down and roll around in the grass to cool down. But happy he was to be outside and off the leash! We eventually came to the edge of a wide field and discovered a narrow river or deep stream edged with thorny bushes thick with leaves. An opening in the greenery and JP pushed Marty into the drink once, twice, thrice, forcing him to bathe and cool off.

We walked along the bushes, around the edge of the field and lo and behold what do we spy? Wild blackberries plump and ripe from the sun and the heat! We picked a few and popped them into our mouths. “Let’s pick some!” I shouted to him, thinking of my friend Nancy Baggett and her foraged berries. “But we don’t have anything to collect them in!” he shouted back, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “But I have a bag that I brought a snack in!” I answered back to his utter delight. (Thank heavens someone thinks to pack snacks!). And so we dove in and brought home over a pound of wild blackberries, our fingers black and sticky with juice.

What to make? We batted a few ideas around until finally I mentioned Panna Cotta. I know how he loves Panna Cotta.

BLUEBERRY HIBISCUS PANNA COTTA with Wild Blackberry Coulis

Blackberry Coulis:

1 lb (500 g) blackberries, cleaned
1 - 2 Tbs granulated white sugar and more to taste

Select and put aside 6 or 12 whole blackberries for decorating/serving.

The coulis can be prepared one of two ways:

Either

1) Cook the blackberries with 1 tablespoon of the sugar over very low heat, pressing and mashing the blackberries as they cook until soft and the sugar is dissolved, about 8 – 10 minutes. Add more sugar, one teaspoon at a time, until the berries and juice is sweet enough and to your liking (how much sugar you add will depend on the natural sweetness of the berries as well as how sweet you like them. If mixing with the panna cotta, it is better to under-sweeten them. Once cooked, allow the berries to cool for about ten minutes or so, then press through a fine strainer, pushing them through with a soft spatula until only seeds are left; discard the seeds and impurities. Taste the resulting liquid coulis and again add a bit more sugar if desired.

Or

2) Purée the berries in a blender or with an emulsion mixer. Cook the berries over very low heat with one tablespoon of the sugar until the sugar is dissolved (if they are very juicy, you can cook for a few minutes, stirring or whisking, until slightly thickened. Strain the berries through a fine mesh strainer, pushing them through with a soft spatula until only seeds are left; discard the seeds and impurities. Taste the resulting liquid coulis and again add a bit more sugar if desired.

Allow the coulis to cool. This can be done ahead of time and chilled in the refrigerator before preparing the panna cotta.

Blueberry Hibiscus Panna Cotta:

3 cups (750 ml) cream or a combination of heavy cream, light cream/half-and-half and milk, either whole or lowfat
2 tsps (1/4 oz, 8 g) unflavored gelatin powder
½ cup (100 g) sugar, 1 tsp replaced with 1 tsp blueberry hibiscus sugar (or similar) - alternately, use all white granulated sugar and make vanilla panna cotta

In a medium-sized, heavy saucepan, place half (about 1 ½ cups) of the cold cream or cream-milk blend; sprinkle the gelatin on top and gentle press down into the liquid with the back of a spoon or whisk. Allow to sit for 5 minutes to soften.

After the 5 minutes, turn the heat under the saucepan to low and gently allow the liquid to warm; once warm allow to cook for 5 minutes, whisking constantly, until the gelatin has dissolved completely (you won’t see anymore golden spots on the surface of the liquid). Do not allow the liquid to boil.

Remove 1 tablespoon of the white sugar from the half-cup and replace with the 1 tablespoon of the flavored sugar. Add both the sugar and the remaining cream or cream-milk blend to the saucepan and heat. Continue cooking over low heat, whisking constantly, until completely warmed through and the sugar has dissolved. Do not allow the mixture to boil. Stir in the vanilla.

Let the panna cotta mixture cool to tepid or room temperature before pouring into serving glasses.

Once the coulis is cooled and the panna cotta is at least warm or tepid, you can assemble the desserts. Have 6 or 8 glasses (depending on how much panna cotta you like to serve as a dessert – I made 6), transparent ramekins or cups ready. Pour 2 tablespoons of the blackberry purée/coulis in the bottom of each glass. Place the panna cotta liquid in a container with a spout, like a large measuring cup, for example; pouring from a spouted container simply allows dividing the liquid between the glasses with more ease and less mess. Carefully and slowly fill each glass with panna cotta almost but not quite up to the rim or as much as desired for one serving. If poured slowly, the dark coulis will swirl into the lighter panna cotta (see photos).

Cover each glass tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for several hours to overnight to set. 

To serve, simply drizzle a bit of the blackberry coulis on each panna cotta, top with one or two blackberries and serve. Leftover coulis is perfect on yogurt, ice cream or cake.

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Hazelnut Meringue Cake with Berries and Cream

A SLOTHLIKE EXISTENCE & A BREAK FROM WRITING

With summer comes a slothlike lassitude that invites little more than lying prostrate on the sofa, feet up, arm over eyes, waiting for someone else to place a tray of fruit, bread and cheese on the coffee table within easy reach. Oh, and please do not forget the glass of chilled Muscadet, thank you very much. No energy to cook, no desire to stand over a flame or in front of the oven. Although I never do mind when JP is game to cook.

We have been surviving on ready-made gazpacho, feta cheese, fresh bread and fruit. Why bother cooking? Once those 50 cupcakes were out of the way – do not mention the frenzy of getting those done, frosted, decorated and boxed – and other than an uncontrollable, inexplicable urge to make Berry Prosecco Sorbet and Lamb & Feta Gözleme, I have stayed well away from the kitchen. Nothing drives me. Au contraire, I feel a slight loathing, an overwhelming laziness where cooking and baking are concerned. I feel only a slight guilt at having nothing on the table for son to eat when the mood strikes his young, lanky body. As he slinks into the kitchen and inquires as to my plans for lunch or dinner, he is well prepared with the shrug of his shoulders and the roll of his eyes, somehow knowing what my harried… or languid answer will be.

Blame it on the summer heat.

 A trip to Paris

The elder son, fresh from his Master’s Degree, sends the occasional, odd message of his travels through Vietnam via Facebook, only mentioning in private the tasty dishes of snake and mouse that he and his traveling companion dined upon or the rat discovered bunking up with them in their hut on the beach:

* Sains et saufs dans la jungle urbaine de Saigon. 

   Ile de Phu Quoc, tout juste formidable. 

   Sur la route de Dalat .... 7 heures de train avec Tham Han, Hanh, et une pelletée de gamins. 

   Après Dalat, Nha Trang, avant de partir demain pour un voyage de 14h vers Da Nang. Serpent, souris et croco au menu. (surement un peu de chien aussi). 

While the younger, proud to have succeeded his first year of university and accepted into his first choice of section, applies himself to his summer job with all of the passion and minuteness and compulsion as does his own father when taking on a task or responsibility. (They are more alike than either would care to admit) He is up with the sun and done with his working day by late morning, plopped onto the sofa ready to explain in fine detail the ins and outs of his job to any and all who walk through the room or he returns to bed, not to be seen again until late afternoon. When he wanders back out to the kitchen to ask, hopelessly, what my plans are for dinner.

I work on my various articles and I pound out the chapters of my story as time taps me on the shoulder then rolls her restless, impatient eyes in the direction of the big black clock that hangs menacingly over my head. It is slow going, this memoir thing; I am not quite on a roll, still stuck in that limbo of 27 or 28 years ago when I first arrived in Paris, wide eyed and full of belief in myself. Full of hope and quiet deception.

But although our days were filled with museums and walks along the Seine, memories snapped on my pocket instamatic, it was also a time fraught with discomfort and worry. First there was language: 

Off we trotted to Paris, confident in our few years of high school and college French, feeling armed to take on any market vendor or restaurant waiter, any salesgirl or museum ticket seller. Off we flew to Paris convinced that we were not one of those Americans, the ones who can be spotted and labeled by the shoes they wear or that telltale accent. We were determined not to commit one faux pas from that long dictionary list of unmistakable mistakes young Americans make on their first trip to Paris. We were as chic as the chicest parisienne, our accent right out of Gigi, more Leslie Caron than Stan Laurel! We were worldly yes indeed we were, comfortable anywhere but heavens! especially in Paris! Why, we may never have visited the City of Lights before but we were so sure of ourselves, feeling as if we already belong. 

And then we made that first trip to the market, all agog at the splendor stretching out before us: stalls as far as the eye can see filled with cherries, apricots and peaches, fragrant cheeses, tumbles of tomatoes and a froth of lettuce! And the boulangerie at the corner! And we stumbled rather hesitantly up to the burly man on the other side of the ramshackle wooden stall spilling over with gorgeous summer fruit and….our minds went blank. How does one ask for two peaches? A pound of cherries? The first true test after years of reciting "Je vais à la piscine. Avec qui? Avec Sylvie." and "Je suis dans le salon. Je regarde la télévision." And we stood, mouth open, sweating just a little under the hot sun and, holding up two fingers with one hand, we pointed to the pile of peaches with the other and mumbled "Deux." We slunk away from the stall and headed to the bakery and, pointing at the gorgeous, golden croissants behind the glass, held up two fingers and mumble "Deux!" We had that studio apartment for the time of that first visit, one month, a bright month of August. Our initiation. The time to accept the fact that our French, just as our American manners and mannerisms, were not as we had imagined. 

And then suddenly, between interviewing chefs and organizing rendezvous out in the vines of Anjou-Saumur, between writing articles and writing a memoir, after lunches at favorite restaurants and while battling the incessant, pressing heat, the sticky, sleepless nights, I decided to bake. I returned to a recipe from long, long ago, one I haven’t made for quite possibly twenty years. But, I reminded myself, filled with loads of whipped cream and summer’s ripest, sweetest berries, a cake light and moist, that this is the most wonderful summer dessert.

A cross between a cake and a dacquoise, the nutty flavor, the light, crispy top and the dense, moist yet light layers are the perfect accompaniment to cream and berries – I filled the cake with blackberries and raspberries but strawberries would be heavenly, creating a treat even better than the classic strawberry shortcake.

* Safe and sound in the urban jungle of Saigon. 

   Island of Phu Quoc, just simply astounding. 

   On the way to Dalat, 7 hours of train with Tham Han, Hanh, and a “shovelful” of kids. 

   After Dalat, Nha Trang before leaving tomorrow on a 14 hour trip to Da Nang. Snake, mouse and crocodile on the menu (surely a little dog, as well). 

HAZELNUT MERINGUE LAYER CAKE with Whipped Cream & Berries

Don’t be afraid of the meringue if you are a novice; a hand or stand mixer and the trick is done practically with one’s eyes closed. Fold in the ground nuts lightly but firmly, spread in a pan and the deed is done. Just give yourself the time to very slowly and carefully turn or lift the layers out of the pan – I only had regular cake layer pans but springform pans would definitely work the best – so as not to allow the surface of the cake to crumble too much. 

I used gelatin in the Whipped Cream in order to stabilize it: it will better support the top cake layer and will stay firmer for longer. Feel free to make straight whipped cream without the gelatin if serving and eating this cake the same day. The choice between using 1 and 1 ½ cups whipping cream depends on how much whipped cream you want between the cake layers. Do store this cake in the refrigerator.

For the Hazelnut/Almond Meringue Layers:

8 egg whites (approximately 1 oz/30 g per white = total 8 oz/240 g but no more)
Pinch cream of tartar or pinch salt + a couple drops lemon juice
Pinch salt (about 1/8 tsp)
2 tsps white vinegar
2 cups (400 g) granulated white sugar
2 cups (approximately 8 oz/240 g) ground nuts – either hazelnuts or almonds or a combination of the two
2 tsps flavoring: either hazelnut or almond liqueur, orange liqueur such as Grand Marnier or Cointreau or vanilla extract or a combo of a liqueur and vanilla

For the Cream & Berry Filling:

1 – 1 ½ cups (250 – 375 ml) chilled heavy whipping cream (please read the head note)
1 Tbs granulated white sugar
3 Tbs liquid: a combination of cold water + the liqueur used in the cake or all water if not using liqueur
1 tsp powdered gelatin
½ pint each raspberries and blackberries or 1 pint strawberries (trimmed and sliced)
Confectioner’s/powdered sugar for dusting

Prepare the Hazelnut Meringue Layers:

Preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C). Butter the bottom and the sides (butter the sides well all the way to the top of the pan) of 2 x 8 ½ or 9-inch springform pans, line the bottom of each with parchment paper then butter again and dusted with flour.

Put the egg whites with the pinch cream of tartar and the pinch of salt in a large mixing bowl. Beat on low speed for 30 seconds and then increase the speed to high. Beat on high speed until soft peaks form. Beat in the vinegar and then gradually beat in the 2 cups of sugar until the mixture is glossy, very thick and stiff peaks hold, about 5 minutes.

Using a wide spatula or spoon, fold in the ground nuts (fold in about a quarter or a fifth of the ground nuts at a time) and the liqueur/extract until well blended; make sure no pockets of ground nuts are hiding in the meringue.

Divide the meringue between the two prepared pans evenly and gently spread all the way to the edges. Bake for 1 ¼ hours until the top of the layers is golden, hard when gently tapped and is pulling away from the sides.

Remove the pans from the oven to cooling racks and allow to cool.

Run a knife around the edges carefully to loosen; remove the sides from the pans. Use a long, thin spatula to loosen and lift the meringue layers from the parchment paper when ready to fill.

Prepare the Cream Filling:

Have the bowl and the beaters chilled in the refrigerator at least 15 minutes before preparing the whipped cream for best results. Make sure the whipping cream is quite cold.

Place the 3 tablespoons liquid (I used 1 Tbs Cointreau + 2 Tbs cold water) in a small saucepan and sprinkle on the teaspoon powdered gelatin. Allow to sit for 5 minutes. Over very low heat, heat the liquid for 5 minutes, stirring or whisking, careful not to let it boil, to allow the gelatin to completely dissolve (there was so little liquid in the pan I held it away from the heat for part of the time as I whisked). Remove from the heat.

Place the heavy whipping cream in the bowl and beat on high speed until soft peaks begin to hold; add the gelatin liquid in a slow stream as you continue to beat. Beat in the tablespoon sugar and 1 teaspoon liqueur if NOT adding gelatin and as desired. Beat until thick, stiff peaks hold. Place in the refrigerator to firm up for about 15 minutes or longer (if adding gelatin, this allows the gelatin to work).

Assemble the cake:

Gently and carefully slide one Hazelnut Meringue Layer onto a serving plate. Cover with the Whipped Cream. Evenly distribute the berries over the whipped cream then very gently and carefully slide or place the second Hazelnut Meringue layer on top. Dust with powdered sugar and serve. Slice with a serrated and chilled knife. Store leftovers in the refrigerator.

 

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VANILLA CUSTARD BERRY TART

BLEU BLANC & ROUGE RED WHITE & BLUE

I have no consistency, except in politics;
and that probably arises from my indifference to the subject altogether.
- Lord Byron

The excitement mounts! An electric current zips through the apartment as the date approaches. We sit, night after night, glued to the television set, listening, observing, trading viewpoints and arguing opinions. The four of us gather every evening at 8 sharp for the news, following each candidate’s every word, every step. We compare the campaigns waging on both side of the Atlantic, the stream of candidates, from their policies to their faux pas, dissecting their political histories, analyzing their records, arguing their strengths, their weaknesses and whether or not we each consider their program, well, realistic.

To tell the honest truth, we also spend just as much time making fun of each candidate, each campaign move. As the evening news rolls to a close, the stream of back-to-back spots runs in glorious red white and blue, or rather bleu blanc rouge, and we love this part of the French presidential campaign. For one minute or two, this candidate or that one’s head looms large against the backdrop of searing red, crisp white or pale blue the color of sky, campaign motto splashed across the screen, La France Forte, Le Changement C’est Maintenant, Un Pays Uni Rien Ne Lui Resiste, Oui La France. Talking heads growling, barking, bellowing or mellow yet urgent, explaining as a teacher addressing a class of naughty children who refuse to follow the lesson. One son chuckles in self-satisfaction as he imitates this voice or that, following the words scrolling across the bottom of the screen, husband remarking on the insignificant, tiny mistakes made in editing while the younger son explains what is wrong with this policy or that. We sadly watch as the night’s series of campaign spots comes to an end, yet the discussion is far from over.

Everything is changing. People are taking their comedians seriously
and the politicians as a joke.
- Will Rogers

Our sons are well versed in politics. We raised them on television and radio news programs, often eating lunch or dinner in front of a panel of political pundits, never missing the evening infos, reading newspapers and debating, dissecting, explaining and, as they grew up, arguing, thrashing out, discoursing on everything French, American, Italian, European. We each have our own strong opinions and ideas of what works and what doesn’t, who is right and who is not and often lock horns. So this year, with presidential elections in both of our “home” countries, it is particularly exciting! The atmosphere is charged; we are geared up for a long year of exuberant, exhilarating, stimulating, often frustrating but definitely animated discussion.

And the fun has already begun with posters of our “favorite” candidates taped to each of our bedroom doors, faux campaign headquarters (although who put them there I have yet to learn), Our imitations are refined and in order, our clocks and watches synchronized so as not to miss even one well-regulated campaign announcement or candidate interview. Everything down to the second is timed and regulated in this beautifully over-regulated country, but how much better than the wild free-for-all in that vast cultural and political landscape (madhouse, some would argue) across the ocean. Words are measured, accusations tempered, and, as we are taught, everything is easier in moderation.


J - 2 (or as the French say it gee moins deux), two days until le premier tour, the first round of voting when the field will shrink from ten to two. Ah, yes, we will miss the odd candidates, and we may be sorely disappointed in the results. We may even be driven totally crazy by the madness of the final two weeks when things may get completely out of hand, wound up two notches or five, but we revel in everything political, no matter how insane.

And soon, France will have a new President and things will certainly return to the old humdrum, the same old same old, le retour à la normale, the status quo. And then the next one Over There will just be getting started.

From politics, it was an easy step to silence.
- Jane Austen

Bleu blanc rouge. Red white & blue: a little tribute to the fun and games that these mad, interminable, delirious, frenetic elections allow us but every four or five years. A luscious red, white and blue tart, worthy of our finest French pastry shop, worthy of our finest French election period, that brings together my little family of political animals as no election can. Or, well, at least not in quite the same spirit. A sweet pastry crust holds a voluptuously smooth, creamy, cool vanilla custard topped with a choice of berries: red raspberries, blue blueberries and wild blackberries. I prefer using frozen berries for tarts. Why? I find that frozen berries offer a much more intense flavor, sweeter, tarter, fruitier than fresh berries which gives wonderful results when baking. But use fresh berries when you can get full-flavored fruit all summer long.

Once baked and cooled, this tart offers sensational, winning, victorious results: tangy berries, sweet, creamy custard and just the right bite from the perfect crust. No analogies here, just a sublime dessert everyone will love. No matter their political bent or favorite candidate.


I will be adding this to my own April in Paris Monthly Mingle.


BAKED VANILLA CUSTARD BERRY TART

For the Pie Crust:
Or use your own favorite sweet pastry crust.

1 ¾ cups (250 g) flour
1/3 cup (40 g) powdered/icing sugar
8 Tbs (115 g) unsalted butter, slightly softened, cubed
1 large egg yolk
Scant ¼ cup (50 ml) milk, slightly more if needed

Sift or whisk together the flour and powdered sugar in a large mixing bowl. Drop in the cubes of butter and, using the tips of your fingers and thumb, rub the butter and flour together quickly until all of the butter is blended in and there are no more lumps; it should be the consistency of slightly damp sand. Add the egg yolk and the milk and, using a fork, blend vigorously until all of the flour/sugar/butter mixture is moistened and starts to pull together into a dough. If needed, add more milk a tablespoon at a time, blending vigorously after each addition, until the all of the dry ingredients are moistened.

Scrape the dough out onto a floured work surface and using the heel of one hand smear the dough inch by inch away from you in short, hard, quick movements; this will completely blend the butter in. Scrape up the smeared dough and, working very quickly, gently knead into a smooth, homogeneous ball. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 20 to 30 minutes if the dough is too soft to roll out immediately.

Lightly grease with butter the sides and bottom of a 13 ½ x 4-inch (35 x 10-cm) rectangular baking tin, preferably with removable bottom.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and unwrap. Working on a floured surface and with the top of the dough kept lightly floured to keep it from sticking to the rolling pin, roll out the dough into a large rectangle and line the tin by gently lifting in and pressing down the dough. Roll the dough fairly thinly – you can see that mine is just a bit too thick. For a baking tin this size you will have dough left over. Trim the edges. Cover the lined tin with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes. This can also be done ahead of time.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Remove the baking tin from the refrigerator and discard the plastic wrap. Prick the pastry shell with a fork (not too hard or deep as you don’t want holes going all the way through the dough) and place a large piece of parchment paper over the shell and weigh down the parchment with pastry weights or dried beans, pushing the beans into the corners and up against the sides. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove from the oven, carefully lift out the parchment paper and beans, pressing the bottom of the shell down with your fingertips if puffed up, and prepare the Custard Filling.

For the Vanilla Custard Cream Filling:

3 large egg yolks*
¼ cup + 2 Tbs (75 g) sugar
2 Tbs cornstarch or corn flour
1 cup (250 ml) milk (I used 2% low fat)
¾ cup (200 ml) heavy cream
2 tsp vanilla
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
1 – 2 Tbs slivered blanched almonds
Powdered/confectioner’s sugar for dusting

* Reserve the whites in a clean jar for Macarons!

Gently whisk the egg yolks with the sugar, cornstarch and the milk in a medium-sized saucepan until blended and smooth. Cook gently over very low heat, whisking constantly, for 5 minutes until thick like custard or pastry cream. Remove from the heat, quickly stir in the cream, the vanilla and the nutmeg; whisk until smooth. Transfer the cream to a bowl or glass/Pyrex measuring cup, cover with plastic wrap, pushing the plastic down to touch the surface, and allow to come to room temperature.

The Berries:

About 1 to 1 ½ cups fresh or frozen berries; I like a combination of blueberries, wild blackberries and raspberries. If using frozen, place the berries in a colander and run very, very quickly under running water to defrost then spread out on paper towels.

Just before baking the tart, place the berries (less any juice that has run off) in a small bowl and toss with 1/8 cup sugar (or slightly more to taste) and a dash of ground cinnamon.

Assemble and Bake the Vanilla Custard Berry Tart:


Once the pastry shell is partially prebaked and cooled and the vanilla custard is prepared and cooled, simply spoon the custard into the shell, spread to smooth and spoon the berries onto the custard. Bake in the 350°F (180°C) hot oven for about 40 to 45 minutes.


Remove from the oven to a cooling rack or wooden board and allow to cool to room temperature. Serve at room temperature or, better still, chilled, dusted with powdered sugar.

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Strawberry Lemon Quick Bread

I’ve said it before a million times that I am so blessed to live in Florida in the winter time…summer time not so much, and this year doubly so.  With our mild temperatures all of our food crops did amazingly well.  I found that I had an abundance of things that I love.  Two of them being lemons and strawberries.
This year the strawberry and lemon crops have been so plentiful that I had so many lemons and strawberries that I just had no way of getting them used up unless I made something with them.  I searched high and low for a recipe for that used both strawberries and lemons. Weird huh?  Not many out there.  So I adapted a strawberry bread recipe from Union Street Eats and it turned out perfect!

Strawberry and Lemon Quick Bread (adapted from Union Street Eats)
Preheat oven to 375F

Grease and flour a 9X5 inch bread pan

Ingredients:
2 Cups fresh strawberries, roughly chopped
1 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour
zest of one lemon
3/4 Cup granulated sugar
1/4 Cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 Cup vegetable oil
1/4 Cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 tsp vanilla extract

Directions:

• Place chopped strawberries in a large strainer or colander and sprinkle with a couple of Tbsp of sugar.  Let sit for about 15 minutes
• In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, lemon zest, both sugars, cinnamon, baking soda and salt
• In a separate bowl whisk together eggs, vanilla, oil and lemon juice.
• Stir in the strawberries.
• Pour wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir until combined.  Do not over-mix.
• Pour batter into prepared loaf pan.  Bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the loaf comes out clean.
• Remove from oven and let cool before removing from pan.

**This is a moist and delicious bread.  It was gone in no time and I’m looking for another sale on strawberries to make it again!
I also want to give a quick shout out to the folks at The Food Channel.  They featured my blog in “Thing We Love”  So honored…Head on over and check them out.  They have some great stuff on their site (besides me!! LOL)

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RASPBERRY COCONUT MACARONS FOR WORLD MACARON DAY!

WORLD MACARON DAY!


AND OLD FASHIONED BREAD PUDDING


I am anti-trend. Yes, I have worked in the arts. And fashion. Now food. How much trendier, how much under the influence can one get than art, fashion and food? Yet I recoil from trends, fads and crazes with a knee-jerk reaction, like being faced with the plague. Never one to easily fit in, I found that no matter how I tried to wear the latest styles or act like the others I looked little more than a misfit, a goon (yes), so why bother? While others were oohing and ahhing over the hot new artiste du jour, the David Salle or Julian Schnabel or whoever was being promoted as hot, I was too much of a naturally born skeptic to follow the crowd blindly, analyzing, over-analyzing and doubting the sincerity of this one or that. Too much is made over a film, a book or an exciting new gadget? I steer clear. I may purchase something – a cool pair of shoes, a lovely skirt, all the rage – but then I will safely tuck it away in the back of the closet only to pull it out 5 or 10 years later when the fad has passed and happily slip it on, pairing it with the most unlikely things. I may deign to discover a book or a film several years down the line, but first impressions and doubts tend to stick and I have been known to regret the money spent, close the book with disgust and give it away without having read further than the first chapter. Cell phone? Had to have one forced on me when I began working outside of the house. Iphone? Just got my first and my men still roll their eyes in dismay that I only use it…to phone.


And food. Once one is plugged into the world of food blogging, one has a front row seat to all the newest trends and crazes, watching the hottest, the coolest, the funkiest scroll by with a flick of the wrist: cupcakes, macarons and cake pops, bacon or pork belly, this new restaurant or cookbook. Mini this or fried that, edible dirt, molecular and foam, have absolutely no charm for me. If you must tack the word gourmet, heirloom, redefined or gastro- onto the name of whatever you are selling, then count me out. Farmer’s markets and eating more leafy, green vegetables, eating local and seasonal…wait a minute? Well, we’ve been doing this for years! I wouldn’t call these trends as much as I would call them smart!

Screeeeeech…. Wait a doggone minute there. Did you say….macarons? Ah, the trendiest of food trends, that lovely little French confection, that wisp of powdered sugar and almonds, that mouthful of delicate, feminine froth. Since these tiny, colorful treats have taken the world by storm, shops spreading like wildfire across the globe, one pastry chef creating even more eye-popping, astonishing flavor combination after the next, I have tasted exactly five store-bought macaron selections: Ladurée (much too gooey and sweet), Fortnum & Mason (a tad dry, a tad bland), Pierre Hermé (luscious! Some I could have passed over but his cassis-chocolat and caramel au beurre sale are exquisite) and Vincent Guerlais and Sucré (my favorites, beautiful flavors, perfect shell-filling balance and not overly sweet, simply suggestive, seductive), but I tend to prefer purchasing a box of handmade chocolates to macarons any day. Macarons for a treat, a snack, a dessert are simply not my thing. There is little attraction and, quite possibly, the fact that everyone seems to go wild over them, everyone dreams of nibbling on a chocolate-truffle macaron by PH or is willing to spend hours queuing on the sidewalk in front of Ladurée, so many have elevated this tiny sweet to dizzying heights, had me simply turned off from the get go. Just another trend, fad, craze. And I am so not interested.


“So then why do you make macarons?” you ask with a sneer or a laugh. “I mean, just take a gander at your blog, stroll through your own recipe index and there they are for all the world to see: Espresso Sea Salt Chocolate Macarons, Coffee Macarons, Gingerbread Macarons, Blueberry Hibiscus Macarons with Blueberry Vanilla Mascarpone Cream, Tulip Macarons with Honey-Pistacho Mascarpone Cream, Violet Macarons, Vegetable Macarons with Chili Chocolate Ganache, Beetroot Macarons with Smoked Salmon, even Cotton Candy Macarons. Guilty as charged! I’ve been caught red-handed falling in line and succumbing to this latest food trend. But I can honestly say that I was seduced by the baking challenge rather than beguiled by the treat. Never one to be tempted and turned on by any dessert not rich and hearty, creamy and gooey, I would have never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would have taken to the delicate, ethereal French macaron. Husband despises them and I did long avoid both eating and making them, but THIS challenge got me started, thanks to Deeba, the wonderful baker behind Passionate About Baking, and ever since we have baked macarons side by side, in failure and in success, gathering around us so many passionate, talented bakers in our own virtual Mactweets’ Kitchen. And today is World Macaron Day, so I will heartily and lustfully shout out a cheery Happy Macaron Day to you all and share my latest creation: Raspberry Coconut Macarons with Chocolate Ganache for Mac Attack Challenge #27.


These rather brown macarons are indeed Raspberry-Coconut – having mysteriously turned the color of mud in the oven after beginning their round life a stunning, deep fuchsia pink. I added 2 tablespoons of dried raspberry powder – sifting out the seeds – and a couple of tablespoons sifted dried coconut powder to the powdered sugar/ground almond blend of my traditional recipe (without the spice, cinnamon or cocoa of course). I filled the shells with a simple dark chocolate ganache, although if I did not have such a persnickety family I would have stirred some raspberry or cherry preserves into the chocolate. In spite of their sad murky color, the flavor was brilliant, a mild yet wonderful fruity flavor which paired beautifully with the chocolate. The macarons were perfect: a thin crispy outer shell giving way to a perfect, tender, mildly chewy inside. Wonderful.


But to end this anti-trend, non-fad, craze-free sentiment and blog post, I will add on a recipe that immediately became a family favorite: Pudding au Pain. We always prefer the old fashioned, the homey, the comforting over the latest and the hottest. And what is better or more delightful or, for that matter, more popular than a Bread Pudding? But this Bread Pudding is no regular Bread Pudding…. This is French Bread Pudding. The stale bread is soaked in hot milk and then the softened bread is mashed into a purée into which is blended the rest of the ingredients. Plump raisins are added for sweetness to an otherwise lightly sweetened pudding and baked under a lovely caramel. Of course, I based the recipe on JP’s favorite Françoise Bernard from Recettes Faciles, but giving it my all-American twist of finely grated orange zest, a dash of cinnamon and a splash of vanilla.


The result? Instead of chunks of bread rising to the top and getting crusty while others remain soft and rather than, as so often happens, the custard separating during the baking, the puréed bread blends into a batter-type mixture and creates a dense, chewy, pudding-like cake. This is a marvelous way to use up any type of stale bread or cake, any and all kinds blended together; this is a staple of most French boulangeries: leftover breads and cakes are used to create a very popular, old-fashioned dessert, either vanilla or chocolate and topped with either gooey caramel or a chocolate glaze or ganache. Next time you crave bread pudding, next time you have stale bread piling up around you calling for attention, make this fabulous French Bread Pudding. Gorgeous, addictive, a perfect balance between very delicately sweetened pudding and sweet, sweet raisins, mildly bitter caramel and the hint of orange and cinnamon….a truly stunning treat.


PUDDING AU PAIN –or- FRENCH BREAD PUDDING
Adapted from Recettes Faciles by Françoise Bernard

3.5 oz (100 g) raisins, dark or blond
7 oz (200 g) stale bread, cubed
2 cups (500 ml or ½ litre) milk, whole or low fat
¾ cup (150 g) sugar
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
Finely grated zest of one orange, preferably untreated
Dash of ground cinnamon, ¼ to ½ tsp
½ tsp vanilla

10 sugar cubes (2 oz, 60 g)
2 Tbs water
Couple drops lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Have ready a regular loaf pan.

Rinse the raisins and place in a small bowl; cover with hot water and allow to soak for 15 minutes to plump. Drain and set aside.

While the raisins are plumping, cube the stale bread (smaller is better, but about an inch square is fine) and place in a large mixing heatproof or Pyrex mixing bowl. Bring the milk to the boil in a small saucepan and immediately pour the hot milk over the bread cubes. Allow the bread to soak up all of the milk, tossing and pressing the cubes down into the hot milk regularly. This should take several minutes.

Once the bread has soaked up all of the hot milk and is softened, either run it though a food mill or purée it using an emulsion mixer or robot until fairly smooth. Return to the mixing bowl and whisk or stir in the sugar, the lightly beaten eggs, the plumped and drained raisins, the finely grated orange zest, the ground cinnamon and the vanilla. Stir to blend well.

Place the sugar cubes, the water and a few drops of lemon juice into the loaf pan. Place the loaf pan over medium-low heat and carefully cook. The sugar will melt and the mixture will bubble; allow to cook gently, shifting the pan around and back and forth gently, until it turns into a deep golden/light brown caramel. This can take from 5 to 10 minutes but watch very carefully for as soon as the sugar begins to turn into a caramel (turning brown) it goes very quickly and can burn easily.

Remove the loaf pan from the heat and carefully tilt the pan back and forth so the caramel evenly coats the bottom of the pan and goes a little way up the sides. Immediately pour the pudding batter into the loaf pan on top of the caramel and smooth. Bake for one hour until puffed and golden.

Remove the loaf pan from the oven and allow to cool just until the pan can be handled (the pudding should no longer be hot but should still be warm). Run a sharp knife around the edges to loosen the pudding then place a serving platter upside down on top of the loaf pan. Quickly invert the platter and the pan and lift the loaf pan off of the pudding.


The Bread Pudding is delicious eaten warm or at room temperature, plain, with yogurt, whipped cream or ice cream. We love it plain with a cup of coffee.

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OLD FASHIONED NEW ORLEANS BLUEBERRY BUCKLE

A BIT OF COMFORT WHEN REQUIRED

The common eye sees only the outside of things, and judges by that, but the seeing eye pierces through and reads the heart and the soul, finding there capacities which the outside didn't indicate or promise, and which the other kind couldn't detect.
- Mark Twain, Joan of Arc

He sits hunched over his ipad, tapping, tapping his forefinger against the screen, a quick occasional glance up at the film on the television. Every now and then, up he pops and scoots over to the other sofa to show me something he’s working on, a discovery, an idea, always interested in my opinion, excited to share. The intermittent dazzle of sunshine energizes and gives us hope, yet the somber leaden skies that normally greet us each day with a mournful shake of the head and an oppressive sigh keep us huddled inside, so we spend our days putting together our projects and pushing towards the future.

I find that I write less and less about food. Strange for a food blog, you may say. As life forges ahead in time, my thoughts are wrapped up in our day to day, our plans and projects. Our conversations are concentrated on our sons’ educations and how they can possibly build a safe and secure future while living out their passions. We waver between moving to the States, staying in France and wandering off to distant, exotic lands, far-flung and isolated where we can live out an adventure away from the madness of the world. Discussions rage, peppered with laughter and dotted with hijinks, lists are made and blueprints laid out for each and every idea that crosses our minds. As philosophical and thoughtful as we normally are anyway, as practical and orderly as we naturally are, this time of our life, this period of transition and change has made us even more sagacious and reflective and I cannot but help myself, this all comes out in my writing. These momentous decisions haunt my every thought and writing is my own personal way to think each one through, weigh out the consequences. Seeing it all in black on white is my way to measure our words against my own desires and judgment, to fix my emotions and come to my own conclusions. I am, after all, a writer and this process is necessary to me.


Yet this is, as you know, a food blog. And it may seem to those who visit that I randomly throw out recipes, that my choice of what I prepare for my family is haphazard and that the blog posts that I write are totally unconnected to what ensues in the kitchen and vice versa. But there is rhyme and reason to what we, my husband and I, cook and bake. Hidden behind each story I write, each tale of our daily life that I tell is a particular meal, a dish, a cake or treat tacked onto the end with little apparent explanation as to why it is there, yet I do assure you that all is intimately connected. You see, I do not cook simply to feed and nourish my family nor do I simply have the automatic gesture of recreating family traditions. Food and life are intertwined, woven together in a delicate, complicated dance. Yes, we see this at holiday times or when we celebrate one of those many events that dot our lives: births and deaths, marriages and holidays. We flip through our recipe cards handed down from parent to child, the old family favorites, the dishes created without thought or discussion on this special day or that. Yet our every day is a gentle blend of ritual and chance, the predictable and the unexpected. And each requires some carefully thought out and selected sustenance, some comforting refreshment, for normally a craving is triggered, a need kicks in, a desire sparked.


Chez nous, cold, drizzly days call for something rich and steaming, a dish spicy and succulent, chunks of long-simmered lamb or chicken and tender vegetables. Couscous finds its way to the table, a variety of tagines, tangy with preserved lemons and olives or sweet with prunes and almonds, bringing with it memories of old days in hotter, sunnier, more colorful and exotic climes. Misery loves company? Quite possibly, but nothing feeds the blues like a hearty plate of Parmentier, cozy mashed potatoes studded with sweet caramelized onions and blended with sautéed beef or sausages or a bowl of mussels in a wine and shallot broth, the aromatic steam circling up and around your head. Breathe in the goodness and a smile will quickly be found playing on satisfied lips. Soups appear as the cold, damp weather sets in, offering healing and soulful contentment when resignation and despondency threaten to settle in; pizza, focaccia and everything in between are lazy-day recipes when we want to lounge around the television in front of a fun movie, en famille, the four of us together as a family; these, as with all breads, take up a healthy chunk of preparation time, so this usually happens when things are looking up, good news has rolled in and we are all feeling chummy and positive. And desserts, whether fancy cakes or simple, homey goodness like cookies and brownies, well, these are made as a son or husband requires, as the pitter patter of man-sized shoes is heard on the parquet, tromping through the house bored and restless. When fruit is the main ingredient, it usually means there is guilt to be appeased; apples, pears, peaches or citrus assuage a need to return to childhood pleasures and running barefoot in the sun. Berries are for celebration, sweet, tangy and special for their rarity, local strawberries, plump and bursting with flavor, delicate raspberries and tart red currents, also grown in the neighborhood of Nantes, signal something special happening in our lives when we have the ability and desire to splurge just a little. And the familiar is needed, the same old is demanded when the house is filled to overflowing with more men than this lone woman can count, comforting panna cotta or sponge cake, chocolate chip cookies or cinnamon buns, when discussion bordering on argument is on the agenda and when Starting Over tends to make us all restless and introspective; chocolate is required in any shape or form when the American in each of them calls or when one or the other wants to impress.


So, as you see, one can easily read meaning into each recipe I post on my blog without the typical “why I made this recipe and what I found at my local greengrocer” introduction. Philosophy in food form, edible therapy, if you will. No need for me to explain or lead into a recipe, just follow the dots and you should be able to get the general ambiance around here without my having to speak. Like making eye contact across a crowded room or playing charades, the dishes I prepare and then post on my blog along with a seemingly unconnected story are in fact interconnected, one inspiring the other or both inspired by the same general mood, an up or a down, a success or a series of bumps and bruises and together indubitably relay some meaning. Which is why today’s sweet treat is a Blueberry Buckle. Good old fashioned American comfort food at its best. Winter blusters and fusses outside, decisions are being hashed and rehashed inside, boys are giving us the same crazy mélange of satisfaction and frustration and the world seems to want to put all of our plans on hold (with some horrid musak version of a Liberace classic piped in as we wait) and nothing consoles and cheers like a classic confection, nothing rich and fancy, just a plain, delicate cake, light and fluffy, studded with sweet spots of fruit and topped with streusel with a hint of cinnamon. Nothing. Believe me.

An afternoon spent with Dianne wandering around the old French Quarter of New Orleans on a steaming afternoon of August found us in a wonderful shop filled with kitchen goodies, local treats and specialties and, yes, cookbooks. I always purchase one cookbook wherever I travel to, a tradition that brings great pleasure, and I try and find a cookbook of local or regional dishes or baking. This, I find, is a wonderful way to carry the memories and experience of a trip and a special place with me back home. While in that bookstore in New Orleans, I happened upon a book that intrigued: Cooking Up a Storm, Recipes Lost and Found from The Times-Picayune of New Orleans. This wonderful cookbook is more than just a collection of recipes, the renowned, authentic dishes of this city and a tale of a rich, diverse, fascinating culinary history. You see, The Times-Picayune newspaper became a post-hurricane Katrina swapping place for old recipes that were washed away in the storm. Marcelle Bienvenu and Judy Walker have compiled more than 225 of these delicious, authentic recipes along with the stories of how they came to be and what they mean to those who have searched so hard to find them again. As my son spent a year volunteering in the aftermath of Katrina, helping to rebuild the destroyed Lower Ninth Ward, I feel a personal connection to what happened and how the city is pulling itself together and working to preserve and safeguard their culinary legacy.


And I settled on the Blueberry Buckle for one rainy winter afternoon of hardcore family discussion. I made a few subtle changes: I used frozen blueberries for fresh – blueberries are extremely rare to find in Nantes (thus very expensive not to mention flown in from far away) and impossible in the winter months, and frozen wild blueberries, I find, have more flavor than fresh – and I did not thaw them before using; I had no buttermilk so substituted a blend of 0% low fat fromage frais and lowfat milk, about half and half; I ran out of unsalted butter – believe it or not – and used salted butter for the cake (not the streusel) and so reduced the salt quantity to ¼ teaspoon. Well, the cake is fabulous! Light, fluffy, delicate and flavorful, just as it should be, with tangy sweet berries and just the perfect balance of streusel. I will make this over and over again. And am now looking forward to making many more of the delightful recipes in this cookbook.


BLUEBERRY BUCKLE
From Cooking Up a Storm edited by Marcelle Bienvenu and Judy Walker

Streusel Topping

¼ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup packed light brown sugar
¼ cup flour
4 Tbs unsalted butter
½ tsp ground cinnamon

Cake

¾ cup sugar
4 Tbs unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups flour
2 tsps baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ cup buttermilk
2 ½ cups fresh blueberries or 2 cups frozen

Prepare the Streusel Topping:

With a fork or your fingers, combine all the streusel ingredients in a small bowl until the mixture has a crumbly consistency. Set aside. (I put the bowl of streusel in the refrigerator while I prepared the cake batter so the butter wouldn’t get soft which would make it more difficult to crumble over the cake).

Prepare the cake:

Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). Lightly grease (with butter) a 9-inch square pan.

Beat the sugar and butter together with an electric mixer in a large mixing bowl until fluffy. Beat in the eggs, then the vanilla.

Mix together the flour, baking powder and salt in another bowl. Add this to the sugar and butter alternately with the buttermilk, beating well after each addition. Fold in the blueberries just until evenly distributed then spread the cake batter out in the pan and top with the streusel.

Bake in the preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes or until a cake tester inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean.


Serve warm or at room temperature.


We all fell in love with this Blueberry Buckle and find that it makes the perfect breakfast or snack cake.

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