CHOCOLATE AMARETTO POUND CAKE

BAKING BASICS AND BEYOND

I learned early that the most important thing in life is a good story.
- Ruth Reichl

La Folle Journée, Glinka, Prokofiev. DCL, Angers, The Tapestry of the Apocalypse. Creation, entrepreneur, business plan. L’ancien palais de justice, the new, modern, luxury hotel, architects and design. Submission, conference, workshop, networking. Lambretta, 3-D reindeer, applications and cover letters. 6 Nations, fondue, Don Giovane; bamboozled, rig’marole, la Segerdahl et lo Jeep.


Buzz words and a changing life. French, English, Italian; words that only have meaning to us and the evolution of a family. A mixed bag of cultural references, not all clearly understandable to the outside world, events and happenings that may not be intelligible to others who don’t live the same thing as we do. Is it absolutely necessary that one always bare one’s life on a blog and recount the day to day activities? I have made an attempt in my own way, sharing our adventures, our daring Starting Over decisions, our sons’ vagaries, choices and personal combats. I illustrate our story with fancy flourishes and infuse it with a touch of whimsy, a dash of romance, a dollop of humor but sometimes I wonder if it isn’t all just a lot of incomprehensible babble to those on the outside looking in. Revealing the daily details of anyone’s most personal moments to those who have never found themselves face to face in the same room with those individuals, that particular family seems so absurd, slightly gratuitous. Utterly foreign, rather irrelevant tidbits of what I did today, what the kids said, how we are each advancing in our own personal exploits and projects, how can one package it all up and flip it around into entertainment? What can I recount that will make you smile, and what tales will make you roll your eyes, shrug your shoulders and skip down to the recipe? And how much is the truth, how much is real and how much is utter fiction?

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.
- Maya Angelou

So I can tell you with how much joy we received Simon’s perfect notes on his Language (English) Proficiency Test or how pleased we are that Clem snagged the best Third Year Internship in his entire architecture class as he now follows the reconstruction of the old Law Courts (inaugurated in 1851) and their transformation into a luxury hotel; I can rattle on about JP’s new project and the excitement that zips through the apartment like electricity as he advances with the force of a steam roller; the satisfaction at the rapt fascination held by those with whom he shares the details; I can blather on about my own work and successes, give you an inside look and an indulgent chinwag on all that I am writing, for whom and what they said. I can leave you photographs scattered across my desktop, smiling faces that tell the tale of a weekend that you couldn’t attend. And what is it worth, I wonder? Am I capable of touching your life, somehow, and making you understand mine?

If you've heard this story before, don't stop me, because I'd like to hear it again.
- Groucho Marx

Today, I simply wanted to share a few links and some news. And a cake.

From Plate to Page spoke with the wonderful, multi-talented Denise Vivaldo, culinary consultant extraordinaire and author of the successful The Food Stylist’s Handbook. Visit her guest post over on the Plate to Page blog where she gives us an inside look at her own fascinating career as well as the world of food styling.


And speaking of From Plate to Page, there are still a couple of spaces open for our exciting Somerset workshop in May. If you are looking for an intimate, hands-on, practical workshop providing you with the tools, instruction and inspiration to define and hone your food writing, styling and photography skills and kick start your creativity all in a convivial, fun- and food-filled weekend then Plate to Page is for you! For details about the workshop, the four instructors (I teach food writing) and registration, please visit out our website! But hurry, spaces are limited to 12 and they are going fast! Questions? Visit our new FAQ page!


My lovely friend Nancy Baggett, talented food writer and cookbook author, interviewed me for her blog Kitchen Lane as part of her new series on Who's Behind the Blog (my title, not hers). Please visit Kitchen Lane and I hope you enjoy the interview!


I was recently asked to be one of the featured Foodie 100 on the new food community site Foodie.com. I have shared 3 previously unpublished recipes on Foodie.com that I particularly love: my best Sweet Potato Pie (the old family recipe of a colleague of an old roommate shared with me some 30 years ago), a gorgeous Apple Frangipane Jalousie and perfect Gingersnaps. And it really is a great new food community.


And now a cake. Food is indeed a universal language, and no matter whether you read my stories (I hope you do) or feel connected emotionally (I do try) or understand my humor or my meaning (if I am lucky), everyone can understand and love a great cake. The kind people at Agate Publishing sent me Pat Sinclair’s book Baking Basics and Beyond. As a food blogger passionate about baking who has many friends and readers who are not experienced bakers and look to me for great yet simple-to-make cakes and confections, I was truly interested in trying the recipes in this book and seeing if it was one I would recommend. As I desired to bake something for my family this weekend and as my son was complaining about the lack of snacks in the house, I decided to turn to Pat’s book and start testing. I will give a more indepth review once I have tried a few more recipes, but if this Chocolate Amaretto Pound Cake is anything to go by, well, I think I am going to love this book.


CHOCOLATE AMARETTO POUND CAKE
From Baking Basics and Beyond by Pat Sinclair – with a few personal minor adjustments

6 oz (168 g) bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 ½ cups (300 g) flour (I weighed 2 ½ cups flour at 350 g)
2 tsps baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 cup (225 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
¾ cup (150 g) granulated sugar
¾ cup (170 g) firmly packed brown sugar (I used light brown packing sugar)
4 large eggs at room temperature
2 Tbs Amaretto (out of Amaretto, I replaced it with 2 Tbs Grand Marnier)
1 tsp vanilla
¾ cup (175 ml) milk

Place the chopped chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl and set the bowl over (not in) simmering water just until chocolate is almost melted, stirring with a silicone spatula or similar. Remove the bowl from the bain marie and stir until all the chocolate is completely melted and smooth. Allow to cool.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) with the rack in the lower third of the oven. Generously grease a 10-inch (25-cm) Bundt or other fluted tube pan with butter then dust with flour until evenly coated; tap out the excess flour.

Sift the flour, baking powder and salt into a bowl.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened butter with the two sugars on low speed just until blended; scrape down the sides then increase the mixer to medium speed and beat for 1 ½ to 2 minutes until fluffy, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides after each egg is added, beating just until the egg is blended in. Add the Amaretto or Grand Marnier, the vanilla and the melted chocolate; beat for 2 minutes until the batter is light and creamy.

Reduce the mixer speed to low. Add the flour in 3 additions alternating with the milk in 2, starting and ending with the dry ingredients. Scrape down the bowl after each addition. Beat until smooth but no longer than 15 seconds. Pour into the prepared pan and spread evenly.


Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out dry. The cake will just start to pull away from the sides. Cool for about 10 minutes in the pan on a wire cooling rack.

Loosen the cake in the pan using a metal spatula or long, thin-bladed knife. Place a wire cooling rack over the cake and invert; lift off the pan. Allow to cool completely.


Drizzle the cake with Chocolate Ganache or, more simply do as I did here, drizzle small amounts of melted white and dark chocolate over the top of the cake.

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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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APPLE FRITTERS & RICH FUDGE BROWNIES FOR HANUKKAH

IN THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT


The excitement mounts. Elves bustle from room to room, digging out decorations, hiding gifts, grinning impishly as they slither and slide ever-so discreetly from room to room. Cupped hands around whispering lips, winks and nudges the latest form of communication; the glee is uncontrollable and contagious as the countdown to the first candle begins. Silver and gold flutter through the house creating a festive backdrop, both Christmas and Hanukkah decorations find their way out of drawers and cupboards in abundance and we find ourselves humming old tunes, from Silver Bells to I Had a Little Dreidl to Winter Wonderland. Our favorite holiday movies, Christmas in Connecticut, The Holiday, The Nightmare Before Christmas and Swing Time (really, anything with snow and romance will do!) are pulled off of the shelf and begin to fill the house with the enchanting sounds and flickering images of the holidays. Yes, even How the Grinch Stole Christmas with the magical voice of Boris Karloff makes its seasonal appearance to the still-excited child in each of us.


Though the purse strings are tugged a tad tighter this year, the Scrooge-like tendencies have evaporated faster than one can say “Twas the night before Christmas” or, more appropriately, “Hanukkah Oh Hanukkah”. A Festival of Joy, indeed! As is our habit, we celebrate alone, en famille, just the four of us, and happy we are to do so. During the year, the boys are rarely seen, Simon just returning from a year-and-a-half-long hiatus and working holiday in the States now down in Milan since early November, Clem spending his days at school, out with friends or closeted away in his room, door firmly closed against nosy, chatty parents, working, working, working. Little time for family nonsense, his company and undivided attention is almost as rare as his brother’s. But together we will be, like old times…but better.

Ghosts of Christmasses – and Hanukkahs – past. No Christmas ever crossed our threshold when I was a tot. My secret joy was always being invited next door to help the neighbors decorate their ceiling-high, gorgeous tree. Hours of pleasure was mine as we hung heirloom ornaments, tossed shimmering tinsel and wove garlands in and out among the branches, overabundance in all of its Christmas glory! The bright, chilly afternoons of a Florida December were spent wandering the streets around our house, ogling the crazy, romantic, ethereal and silly decorations, only to return at night under cover of darkness to see entire streets ablaze with lights, dizzy with gaudy baubles and bulbs dangling from palm trees, reindeer and Santas perched atop chimney-less roofs or standing proudly among dancing, prancing elves on green lawns. Life-size crèche scenes brightly illuminated, Snowmen innumerable, at home even in the balmy Florida evenings, grinning in delight at the amazing display of which they are a part, rising up from the dirt and sand like a brilliant phoenix in glorious, blinding Technicolor. And the mystical, eerie, entrancing luminaries dotting the night, lining the street, heralding the celebrations.


Hanukkah was always rather low key, our simple family menorah aglow, a plateful of sizzling latkes, a rambunctious game of dreidl with peanuts or M & M’s passed hand to hand, losers to winner, edible prizes pooled around our impatient fingers itching for our turn to spin the top. One present each night as the candles were lit, gifts we had more than likely helped our mother pick out for ourselves. The greater celebrations were reserved for Sunday School festivities with our friends, exchanging gifts, singing songs, clamoring for a much-coveted role in the yearly play of the story of Hanukkah: the Maccabean fight for Jewish survival against the Assyrian army, the oil that kept the Eternal Light glowing in the destroyed Holy Temple miraculously lasting 8 days and nights instead of the expected one. Christmas carols and Christmas plays filled our public school Decembers, but glory be the year I was the motivating factor in getting permission for our Sixth-grade class to write and perform a play about Hanukkah in front of the entire elementary school. The one year, the festivities I will never forget.


We’ve brought the quiet, low-key, intimate family tradition into our own home. Once or twice we’ve had friends over, offering gifts, explaining the rituals and introducing them to traditional – and not-so traditional Hanukkah foods and dishes amid the warm glow of the flickering flames. But normally we celebrate amongst ourselves, just the four of us. We excitedly exchange gifts, enjoy meals of latkes and sweet and sour chicken, play board games and watch films. And just talk and laugh together, the true joy and meaning of the holidays. And I love to cook and bake. Happily, we rarely have guests…happily because I am random, without rhyme or reason when it comes to my holiday cooking and baking. I will prepare piles of cookies, tin upon tin of sweet cakes and breads, macarons and truffles to please an army. Yet I cook and bake when the whim comes upon me, pulling out flour and apples, sugar and eggs, potatoes and cinnamon when the mood strikes and creating from morning to night. Then I may not cook or bake again for days or weeks. If I must prepare a complete meal for a certain number of people, for a particular date, an approaching hour, my nerves fray, my brain sizzles and I panic. But for my little family or as gifts for friends, the holiday goodies, the festive treats come rolling out of the door, the oven in an almost continuous display. Just like the gifts I buy for my family.

Hanukkah is the holiday not only to cook and bake but to fry as well! Sizzling potato pancakes; cheese latkes both savory and sweet; donuts of all types, shapes and sizes; chicken or fish, breaded and slid into bubbling oil; anything and everything is good as long as it is fried, the oil a reminder and celebration of the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days and nights instead of one, keeping alive the Holy Temple’s Eternal Flame after the Temple’s destruction while new oil was prepared. And these fried Hanukkah treats are almost always served up with something sugary and fruity: jam nestled inside fluffy donuts, a generous dollop of homemade applesauce or other fruit compotes atop fritters, pancakes and latkes both savory and sweet; chicken bathed in luscious, glistening sweet & sour sauce and rugelach, our favorite cookies, find a favorite jelly or bits of chocolate rolled up in the decadent, cheesy, moist crescent of dough. Add to the equation tiny sacks of chocolate Hanukkah gelt, candy coins wrapped in shiny gold tinfoil, and you truly have a Hanukkah to remember.


For our first night of Hanukkah, I turned to Jewish food maven Jayne Cohen’s Jewish Holiday Cooking, the updated version of her first cookbook The Gefilte Variations, a book I have loved and cooked out of for years. A Food Lover’s Treasury of Classics and Improvisations is the oh-so appropriate subtitle of Jewish Holiday Cooking; this book is filled with more than 200 fabulous recipes inspired by Jewish holiday dishes from communities and cuisines around the world, both Ashkenazi and Sephardi. Jayne offers scrumptious contemporary renditions of traditional dishes and creative, exciting reinterpretations, twists on the classics, as well. Her beautiful stories, her luscious, mouthwatering descriptions, tales of her childhood and growing up in a Jewish household, as well as concise, entertaining, informative explanations of each holiday and the rituals and traditions surrounding those holidays make this book more than delightful to cook from as well as simply to read. The perfect gift, the perfect holiday companion for any Jewish – or non-Jewish – kitchen.


This is one of my holiday go-to cookbooks… I make Jayne’s Hungarian Chocolate Walnut Torte and her Hazelnut Macaroons, her stunning Snapper Filets in Pistachio-Matzoh Crust and her Lemon Fried Chicken over Tart Salad every single Passover; her Almond Challah has graced many a Rosh Hoshana, the Jewish New Year, celebratory dinner table; her Chopped Chicken Livers, one of my favorite foods, is just like my dad used to make! And this year, for Hanukkah, I decided that it was time to make her Apple Fritters (among others). They were perfect, the beer batter coating was light and crisp (although to be perfectly honest, not the easiest thing for me to photograph!), the apple slices nestled inside delicate, meltingly tender and sweet with just a hint of cinnamon. And to top it all off, I spooned dollops of just the batter into the sizzling oil for light, crispy fritters – without apples! Delicious and sweet!


I also had to make her Rich Fudge Brownies. One can tell by the photographs just how dark and gooey these are. Perfect, fudgy texture, deliciously chocolate, the perfect brownie!

N.B. Jewish Holiday Cooking was a gift to me from the author herself, and I want to express my heartfelt appreciation for her kindness in both the book and her kind words. A very Happy Hanukkah to Jayne and her family! But the decision to write about the book was my own and all views and opinions are my own.

ITALIAN APPLE FRITTERS
From Jewish Home Cooking by Jayne Cohen


6 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and cut into 1/3-inch rings
6 Tbs brown sugar
1 Tbs vanilla
½ tsp ground cinnamon
3 large eggs at room temperature, separated
3 Tbs mild olive, canola or avocado oil
2 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
2 tsps baking powder
Salt
1 ½ cups beer
Canola oil for frying
Confectioner’s sugar, brown sugar or maple sugar for sprinkling

* I used Royal Gala apples and as I noticed too late I had run out of brown sugar I used granulated white sugar.


Put the apple slices in a large, resealable plastic bag and add the brown sugar, the vanilla and the cinnamon. Seal the bag then move the apple slices around in the bag until the seasonings are evenly distributed. Let the apples macerate at room temperature for about 1 hour.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the egg yolks with the oil until well blended. In anther bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and ½ teaspoon salt. Stir the dry ingredients into the yolks, alternating with the beer, squooshing the batter up against the side of the bowl to break up any lumps. Stir the batter until smooth. Let it rest at room temperature for 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 200°F (about 100°C) if you want to bring all of the fritters to the table at the same time instead of serving and eating them right from the pan as they are done.

Beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt until stiff but not dry. Gently fold into the batter until there are no more lumps of whites.

In a large, heavy skillet (do not use nonstick!), heat ½ inch of oil over medium heat until gently sizzling (about 360°F/180°C). Dip the apple rings one at a time into the batter making sure it is completely coated, then letting the excess batter drip off before slipping it into the hot oil. Fry in batches, about 5 rings at a time so you don’t crowd the pan, until golden brown on each side, the fritter is puffed and the apple inside is tender and cooked through. Use two spatulas or one spatula and a large spoon to turn them.

Line a serving plate or large ovenproof platter with crushed paper towels. Serve the fritters immediately, sprinkled with one kind of sugar or another or, less desirably, keep warm on a rack placed over the platter in a low oven (in one layer) until all of the fritters are done and ready to be brought to the table.

RICH FUDGE BROWNIES
From Jewish Holiday Cooking by Jayne Cohen


1 cup granulated white sugar
1 cup granulated bight brown sugar
16 Tbs unsalted butter, melted and cooled; ¾ cup mild oil; or 16 Tbs unsalted kosher-for-Passover margarine
4 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla or 2 tsps coffee liqueur
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch processed)
½ cup matzoh cake meal (if you don’t have matzoh cake meal, try flour)
1 ½ tsps finely ground espresso coffee or instant espresso powder
¼ tsp salt (omit if using margarine)

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Lightly grease or line with parchment an 11 x 7-inch rectangular or 9-inch square baking pan.

In a large bowl, combine the white and brown sugars with the melted butter, oil, or margarine. Add the eggs and vanilla or coffee liqueur and beat until light and fluffy. In a separate bowl, stir together cocoa, cake meal, coffee and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the batter and blend until smooth.

Spoon the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 25 minutes. Do not overcook: the brownies should be moist. They are done when the batter is just set, the to dry to the touch but no crust has yet formed around the edges. A toothpick inserted halfway between the center and the edges of the pan should come out just about clean; a toothpick inserted in the center will emerge with some batter still clinging to it. The size and material of the pan will affect cooking time, so begin checking after about 20 minutes.

Transfer the pan to a rack and let stand until cook. Cut into squares

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PECAN CARAMEL CHOCOLATE UPSIDE DOWN CAKE

SOMETIMES A FLOP IS NO FLOP!


Success!

I hate failure. More particularly, I hate failure in the kitchen. My dread of a baking fiasco began so many years ago when, young girl barely in her teens, I attempted to recreate in our own kitchen the cranberry muffins I had fallen in love with during 7th-grade home economics class. Those cranberry muffins, warm and delicate vanilla-scented cake laden with plump, tangy ruby red fruit and memories, my first love, were my initiation into the joys of baking. But after a disastrous re-edition of these muffins for my family a year or so later when I mistakenly blended in 3 CUPS of solid shortening instead of the required 3 tablespoons, producing a muffin top afloat a pool of liquid fat, I pushed this newfound love to the back shelf like a rejected suitor, and didn’t dare make an attempt to produce a baked good until my college days. I was horrified at my error, felt it deeply and have been scarred ever since.

I am not one of those bloggers who grew up learning to cook from the best. No mother or grandmother whipping up those special dishes she was famous for, sharing kitchen secrets, taking me by the hand and showing me the ins and outs of how to be an amazing cook. Baked goods were mostly from a box, no matter how passionately prepared. I grew up in a Space Age kitchen where we reveled in every new-fangled food invention, from the powdered and freeze-dried, the boxed, canned and frozen. So, while my chic New York cousins were dabbling in gourmet fare and preparing dishes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I was living the American Culinary Dream of the 1960’s and 70’s: recipes learned at Girl Scout Camp, all the odd flavor and textural combinations I could make starting from a peanut butter sandwich and, well, boxed brownies.


And how many years did it take before I could turn out a decent loaf of yeast bread? How many loaves of sweet quick bread or cream tarts ended up in our well-fed trash bin for lack of experience and understanding, my rushing precipitately through a recipe in not enough time or simply trying to substitute one thing for another in my mad desire to bake? We all make mistakes, but some of us use that fallen soufflé or leaden loaf of bread, curdled custard or green cake tasting of metal or reeking of oven cleaner as an inspiration, a learning experience, an incentive to work harder and try again. While those of us who doubt our own talents or who lack patience and self discipline drag our sorry body out of the kitchen and go and hide in the bedroom, nose buried in a novel, waiting for the baking gods to forget we exist or, better yet, to flog us silly for our inexcusable behavior!

My dirty little secret.

I approach new recipes and experiments tentatively, as I do most things in my life. Self-doubt is in constant battle with my sense of adventure and curiosity, each elbowing the other for just a little more room, trying to force their way forward like teens at a standing-room-only concert. Each dish that I serve, every cake or sweet treat that I pull out of the oven gets the once over, a poke and a prod, a taste and my brow furrows with apprehension, my fists clench with tension and my heart pounds in worry and anticipation of the worst. Too dry? Undercooked? Flavorless? Just plain didn’t work? And my men just sneer or slap their foreheads in disbelief, wondering why I just didn’t stick to the tried and true or angry because “There you go again, complaining, all flustered about nothing and not able to enjoy what you put so much time and energy into.” Call me crazy (and they do), but I just cannot help myself or my baffling, complex reaction.


But then sometimes an apparent flop turns out to be an unexpected success. I lovingly measure and stir with pleasure, feel the knife push through a fragrant mound of pecans with that gentle, satisfying give and snap, watch the smooth, creamy batter ribbon down thickly into the pan, the heady scent of chocolate tickling my nostrils and setting my tastebuds aquiver. Anticipation mounts as I peer into the oven, nose practically pressed against the burning window. And I wait. I pray. I watch as the cake rises and firms, hoping aloud that the edges don’t burn or turn crusty before the center is set. And I pull it out and place it on the rack with a clickety clack, allowing it to cool just as it demands. So what can go wrong? My instinct kicks in and….

I love The Weekend Baker! This fabulous book for bakers of every level is a wonderful collection of homey, comfy recipes both old fashioned cozy and contemporarily cool by my wonderful friend Abigail Johnson Dodge (Abby to her fans and friends). This is a book for a passionate home baker such as I to read, coddle, indulge in and dream over. I have made several of Abby’s recipes from The Weekend Baker, Bon Appetit Magazine and from Desserts 4 Today and they were each stunning and so delicious. So after much thought and consideration, I decided to make her Nutty Caramel-Chocolate Upside Downer, a cake I was sure would please everyone in my family. So I made the caramel – a snap – and chopped the pecans – pure pleasure – and whipped up the chocolate cake batter – simple and sumptuous! And the cake baked. I followed the instructions to a tee – although I knew that my caramel had turned out too watery; I ran and twittered Abby asap… but it was too late and neither one of us could figure out the snafoo. And so as I flipped the cake over onto my pristine white cake platter, well, the caramel did not so much ooze thickly down, velvety smooth, lusciously creamy as caramel should but rather it rushed out of the pan, ran down watery and thin and puddled onto the table. So of course, hysteria set in. I screamed, cursed and panicked! I succeeded in salvaging the cake – well I am being a bit overdramatic as the cake was in perfect shape, but, yes, I made my usual scene. So there was no caramel other than the lovely essence that had soaked into the top of the chocolate cake now studded with pecans. After allowing the cake to cool, we sliced. We tasted. And, lo and behold, we absolutely loved it!

So my flop was no flop at all. No gooey caramel dripping elegantly down the sides, but the cake was perfect, dense, moist with an incredible chocolate flavor heightened by the crunch and earthiness of the pecans. And my sons, the biggest test of all, two fine young men who refuse my baked goods more often than not for such reasons as “I don’t like the flavor of caramel.” “It isn’t the chocolate cake I asked for.” “Why don’t you just keep making the cake I like the best instead of always trying new recipes?” and my favorite “Stop all the baking already! Stop forcing food down our throats!” Well, they couldn’t eat this cake fast enough.

Abby’s Pecan Caramel Chocolate Upside Down Cake was a roaring success.


The Weekend Baker is a fabulous and perfect gift for anyone who loves to bake: beginner, the more advanced or you!

Disclaimer (as bloggers love to say!): I purchased this book on my own. It was a gift from no one and no one asked me to say wonderful things about this book. Yes, Abby is a great friend of mine, but I bake from this book because I love to bake and I absolutely love the recipes in this book.


PECAN CARAMEL CHOCOLATE UPSIDE DOWN CAKE
From The Weekend Baker by Abigail Johnson Dodge

For the Nuts and Caramel:

¾ cup (6 oz/170 g) firmly packed dark brown sugar (I used packed light brown sugar)
5 Tbs (71 g) unsalted butter
2 – 3 Tbs water (I used 3 and it was obviously too much)
1 ¼ cups (6 oz/170 g) coarsely chopped nuts (I used pecans, Abby suggests adding slivered blanched almonds and walnuts as well), toasted

For the Cake:

1 1/3 cups 170 g) flour
½ cup (45 g) unsweetened cocoa powder (not Dutch process), sifted if lumpy
¾ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp table salt
10 Tbs (145 g) unsalted butter softened to room temperature
1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar (Abby’s measure was 227 g)
1 tsp vanilla
3 large eggs, well beaten
½ cup (115 ml) buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) and position the oven rack on the middle rung. Lightly grease the sides (not the bottom) of a 9 x 2-inch (23 x 5-cm) round cake pan.

Prepare the nuts and the caramel:

In a small saucepan, combine the brown sugar, butter and water. Set the pan over medium heat abd cook, stirring often, until the butter is melted and the mixture is smooth. Bring to a boil and pour into the prepared pan, swirling to coat the bottom evenly. Scatter the toasted nuts evenly over the caramel and gently press into the caramel.

Prepare the cake:

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt and whisk until blended. In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until smooth. Gradually add the sugar and continue beating until fluffy. Beat in the vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating briefly after each addition. Sprinkle half the flour mixture over the butter/sugar and mix on low speed until the dry ingredients disappear. Add the buttermilk and beat until blended. Add the remaining dry ingredients and beat just until blended. Scoop the batter by spoonfuls into the pan evenly over the caramel and nuts. Very gently and carefully spread to even out the cake batter, trying not to disturb the nuts. Tap the pan a few times on the counter to settle the batter.

Bake in the preheated oven about 45 minutes until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Remove from the oven when done and immediately run a knife around the sides of the pan to loosen the cake. Using a thick, dry kitchen towel to protect your hands, invert a large serving or cake plate on top of the pan and, holding both the pan and the plate, invert them together. Leave the pan over the cake for about 3 minutes to allow the caramel to drip onto the cake then lift off the pan. Using a small spatula or knife, scrape out any caramel that remained stuck to the pan and spread on top of the cake.


Serve the cake warm or at room temperature.

Just slightly undercooked, but just the way we love it.

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SWEET & SOUR OSSOBUCO AND RICOTTA TART

GO ITALIAN!


Our very first From Plate to Page workshop is approaching like a speeding train coming at us head on and we are tied to the tracks (though no Damsels in Distress, we four!)! I have been neck deep in conversation and preparation with Ilva, Meeta and Jeanne, tying up loose ends, planning the menus, dealing (happily) with our fabulous sponsors and finalizing details for our own writing workshop sessions with Jeanne so I have had very little time to devote to my own blog and my own dear readers. Bear with me for just a little while longer then hopefully I will be back with you a little more often.

Today I want to share a tale of two girlfriends who met across oceans and cyberspace, meeting somewhere in the middle. At first we tiptoed around each other, curious but hesitant, nervous yet intrigued, feeling the tug of compassion and interest yet not sure how fast to move forward. But we had too much in common and found that friendship grew in spite of our timidity. We were just two nice Jewish girls who had married Europeans, lovely, creative, talented men each. We share a peculiar subtle, intellectual yet wickedly sly sense of humor. We are both somewhat innocently naïve about people and the world at large and I can only hope and pray that I am half as generous and kindhearted as she. We each harbor a passion for travel and culture, a love of great food and feeding others and a joy of family. We are both passionate writers, loving the magic of the word, the beauty of black on white and the potential power contained in each word, phrase, story. And we both love Italy. Yes, of course, these two women are Lael and myself.


But I must backpedal a bit first. Lael was far from the first of her family whose notice was brought to my attention. It was actually in Italy about 15 years ago that I first learned of the illustrious name of Hazan. Living in the center of Milan, there was never a doubt that such a reader as I would not rapidly discover the tiny, dark English bookstore barely off the beaten track, slightly askew from the main stretch of road that rambled and bustled through my part of the city. I would spend hours in that warm, homey space, heaven for the book passionate, my fingers skimming softly along rows of book spines, murmuring titles softly under my breath. Occasionally, one would call to me, luring me into the pages between an intriguing cover or arousing my curiosity with a catchy title. I would carefully pull it from amongst the others, slide my hand down the cover as against a lover’s bare skin, hold it up to my nose and, eyes closed, breathe in the luxurious bouquet like a fine wine, the new book aroma making me dizzy with thoughts of quiet childhood moments nestled in an armchair or in the branches of a favorite tree, hidden from the world, losing myself in an adventure. Or I, already fascinated by food and cooking and the magic of a great cookbook, would wander over to the cookbook shelves and scan the meager offerings. And there it was, Marcella Hazan, the name veritably jumped out into my waiting hands, book after beautiful book on, yes, Italian cuisine. But as new a cook as I was, it was all too overwhelming for me and, losing all confidence, I always came to the conclusion that I simply could not live up to her recipes, my novice to her master, and sadly I would walk away, back out into the harsh Italian sunlight and find my way back home with yet one more Charles Dickens carefully tucked under my arm.

Many, many years later, traveling through space and time and happily ensconced in my new life, somewhat more confident in my cooking abilities, albeit much more secure in my talent as a writer than ever a cook I could be, I published my first articles on The Huffington Post. And lo and behold, the appearance of the second illustrious Hazan in my life: Giuliano left a warm, exuberant comment on one of those pieces I had written. And contact was made, Facebook and Twitter, such a charming, friendly man. And this connection followed quickly by an introduction to his wife, Lael. Oh we found each other without his help but the excuse was there to meet. And meet we did and slowly but surely a friendship bloomed across the miles, flying over that wide expanse of ocean. And finally, finally I bought a cookbook by a Hazan, Giuliano.

Far from Italy now, much too far for my own good, flipping through Every Night Italian brought all the sights and sounds, odors and flavors of my fabulous years in that marvelous country, a country where I truly learned the value of good food, ingredients straight from the dirt, simple cooking that turned those basic ingredients into something delectable, homey yet luxurious all at once. Arrosto, spezzatino, carciofi, budino and crostata, words that jump out at me from the page, are words heavy with memories for me, the first language of food for my baby boys, words infused with our seven years in Italy. My courage now stronger after years of experimenting and learning, I decided that it was time to delve into this book and….cook. And cook I did.


I began with Ossobuco in Agrodolce, Sweet and Sour Braised Veal Shanks, a twist on the traditional Ossobuco that I love so well, a favorite family meal. Normally I would serve this with a traditional Risotto alla Milanese, yellow saffron risotto, but selected instead Giuliano’s Risotto ai Pepperoni e Pomodoro Fresco, Red and Yellow Pepper Risotto, just to try two of his recipes at once. The meal was such an incredible success that several days later I made Pollo alle Olive Verdi, Chicken with Green Olives which, he explains, was actually first published in Marcella’s Italian Kitchen!

Well, friend or no friend, I warned Lael that I would be brutally honest – as friends should be – in my review of this book and the recipes. Well, to be totally upfront, I have to say that the food was stunning, amazing and simply fabulous! Each of the recipes was so simple to put together, even for the frazzled and less-than-confident such as me! And JP and I couldn’t get enough! The Ossobuco with the exotic flavors of a sweet and sour dish was probably one of the best meals we have eaten, although I will admit a simpler risotto would highlight the complex flavors of the Ossobuco much better. The Chicken with Green Olives was fabulous and maybe JP preferred this one of the two, yet I knew that both of these dishes were so heavenly, so flavorful and, yes, delicious, that each would become a part of my repertoire of family meals. All I know is that I had fallen in love with a cookbook and I will be making many, many meals out of it.


And an exchange of birthday gifts between Lael and me, who happen to both have birthdays in January, and I became the thrilled owner of How to Cook Italian, Giuliano’s third cookbook. Well, the book quickly filled up with tiny yellow stick-its bookmarking so many must-make recipes that it was truly hard to choose. But I settled on one filled with memories, a family favorite from Italy, Torta di Ricotta, a simple but far-from-humble Ricotta Tart, a special treat ordered after so many meals in so many Italian restaurants during those heady Italian years in Milan. And how was it? I must admit here that I had trouble with his pie crust, possibly because I had no food processor and it didn’t quite come together by hand (I felt it needed more butter), so I fell back on my own Sweet Pastry Crust. But the filling was a snap to put together, baked up beautifully, and created a simple yet luxurious, light yet creamy and just perfectly, tenderly sweetened ricotta tart and one that I most definitely will be making over and over again. JP swooned in delight and satisfaction with each mouthful, a sure sign of a great recipe in my home!


I already have so many recipes bookmarked that I will most definitely be making: the Torta della Nonna, Grandmother’s Custard Tart, Fettuccine or Risotto with Artichokes and of course Lael has heartily suggested that I make Giuliano’s Tiramisu and compare it to my son’s, all recipes from How to Cook Italian and his stunning Crostata all’Arancia, a Sicilian Orange Tart, and an incredible-sounding Semifreddo al Caffé from Every Night Italian. Do I have your attention yet?

Now, don’t think that I am going to give you every recipe from his wonderful books. No, no, you must go and find at least one of Giuliano’s Italian cookbooks very soon and make it your own to caress, ogle, stroke, read in the privacy of your own home. And cook. And cook. And cook. He offers us Italy in between the covers, simple, clean, flavorful dishes redolent of tradition and home.


Here is one recipe from each book, just enough for you to try and be tempted once you discover how easy and how fabulous they are. And if you are hungry for more delightful, delectable, thoroughly Italian recipes, visit Lael and Giuliano’s own blog The Educated Palate where you can also savor and enjoy Lael’s wonderful writing, her tales of family life and family cooking with some travel stories and fascinating facts and information thrown in. Thanks and a hug to Lael for being such a wonderful friend and to Giuliano for bringing me back to Italy in my own kitchen.

OSSOBUCO IN AGRODOLCE (Sweet and Sour Ossobuco)
From Every Night Italian by Giuliano Hazan

As Giuliano writes, this is a “different approach to the usual ossobuco… It is cooked with vinegar and raisins, whose sweet and sour flavors…complement the richness of veal shanks splendidly.” I say this is a stunning dish whose complex flavors and succulent, fall-off–the-bone-tender veal are my version of heaven.


¼ cup golden raisins
2 cups yellow onion, very thinly sliced crosswise
3 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
Salt
2 to 3 Tbs vegetable oil
About ½ cup flour, or enough to coat the veal
Four 1 ½-inch-thick pieces veal shank or veal for ossobuco
Freshly ground black pepper
1 small beef bouillon cube (I use chicken)
1 Tbs shredded fresh basil leaves
½ tsp chopped fresh thyme leaves
1 tsp grated lemon zest

Place the raisins in a small bowl and cover with warm water.

Put the onion slices and the olive oil in a heavy braising pan large enough to hold all the veal in a single layer (I used my large Le Creuset Dutch oven). Place it over medium heat and sprinkle the onion lightly with salt. Cook until the onion turns a light caramel color. It may be necessary to raise the heat at the end to get the onion to color.

While the onion is cooking, put enough vegetable oil in a large skillet to come about ¼ inch up the sides and place it over high heat. Place the flour on a plate, roll the veal shanks in it and shake off the excess. When the oil is hot, carefully slip in the meat and brown it on both sides. Transfer to a platter and season with salt and pepper.

Once the onion is colored, raise the heat to medium-high. Add the vinegar and let it bubble for about 30 seconds. Put in the browned veal shanks. Add enough water to come halfway up the shanks and add the bouillon cube. Add the basil, thyme and lemon zest. Lift the raisins out of the water, squeeze out the excess water and add them to the pan. Cover and cook at a moderate but steady simmer until the meat is very tender, about 2 hours, turning the veal occasionally. Add more water if the water evaporates before the veal is done; you want to end up with a thick sauce. If the sauce is too watery at the end, remove the meat, raise the heat and reduce the sauce until thick enough to coat a spoon. Serve hot with Saffron Risotto.

This is one of those long-simmered dishes that gets better over time, improving as the flavors meld and the meat tenderizes in the sauce over a day or two. Simply reheat the veal in the sauce, adding a bit of water if necessary, over moderate heat.

TORTA DI RICOTTA (Ricotta Tart)
From How to Cook Italian by Giuliano Hazan

Lusciously creamy yet light and almost mousse-like, Giuliano adds chopped candied citron or lemon to the filling which I left out. Instead, inspired by my love of chopped chocolate bits in the rich ricotta filling of my Cannoli, I simply drizzled the top of the chilled tart with melted chocolate which solidifies as it hits the top of the cold ricotta filling and adds that fabulous crunch and a hint of slightly bitter chocolate flavor to the tart’s creaminess as you are eating it.


1 pre-baked Sweet Pastry Crust

1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup flour
3 Tbs confectioner’s or powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups whole milk
2 cups (1 lb/500 g) whole-milk ricotta
2 Tbs chopped candied citron, optional

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Lightly but thoroughly butter a deep dish 9-inch pie pan, pie dish or springform pan.

Prepare the Sweet Pastry Pie Crust following my directions found here then line the prepared pie dish. Place a piece of parchment paper on top of the dough fitted and crimped into the dish and weigh down with pastry weights or dried beans. Bake in the preheated oven for 8 minutes. Very carefully pull the pie plate out of the oven and lift out the parchment and beans then return the pie crust to the oven and bake for an additional 10 minutes or until very lightly browned and completely set. If using a glass pie plate, you’ll be able to see that the underside of the crust is uniformly golden brown. Remove from the oven to a cooling rack or hotplate.

After the crust is done, raise the oven temperature to 375°F (190°C).

Prepare the ricotta filling while the Sweet Pastry Pie Crust is baking:

Whip the egg, the yolk and the granulated sugar in a large mixing bowl with an electric mixer on high speed until the mixture is smooth, thick and creamy and pale yellow. Add the flour, confectioner’s/powdered sugar and the vanilla and mix just until homogenous. Slowly pour in the milk while whisking on medium-low speed. Add the ricotta and blend thoroughly. If adding candied citron, stir it in now.

Pour the ricotta filling into the pie crust and bake until the filling is firm and begins to brown on top, 1 to 1 ¼ hours. Test by jiggling the pan gently. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours or overnight before serving. Serve chilled, drizzled with a bit of melted chocolate, if desired.


The pie will keep for a few days in the refrigerator.

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