recipe Archives - Page 2 of 3 - Patent & the Pantry

Pine Nut Rosemary Shortbread

December 21, 2008 9 Comments

I only have one cookie cutter. It’s shaped like a dog bone. I bought it for a book club function — we bring foods that can be linked back to the book; this time it was The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night and I was going to make dog-bone cookies. And then I didn’t.

So, when I was overtaken by the impulse to make Pine Nut Rosemary Shortbread, I realized they were going to be dog-bone shaped.

Or so I thought.

It’s no wonder I was drawn to this recipe. Rosemary? Sugar? It was going to be like the Barefoot Contessa’s Rosemary Cashews, but in cookie form. What could be better? And, there is no doubt, this recipe was a winner.

But it wasn’t without its problems. Shortbread and I don’t get along. Once again, the dough absolutely shattered into pea-sized bits when I added the flour. I squished it into a ball and then two flat disks before putting it in the fridge, but when it came to rolling it out, it was a no go. Instead, I squished it back into logs and sliced it. I definitely liked the thicker slices better and would not hesitate to make them again this way. But, next time, I will take my mum’s advice and let the butter get so warm it’s almost sloppy before attempting this recipe. Apparently, I am too impatient when it comes to letting the butter get to room temperature and it was likely too cold when I started.

So, there were no dog-bone shaped shortbread cookies. Perhaps next time. Or perhaps not. It doesn’t matter, frankly, what shape these are, just as long as they get made.

This recipe comes from Heidi over at 101 Cookbooks. I’ve made a few changes, namely doubling the rosemary and using all-purpose flour. I am considering making this next time with brown sugar, just to see what that would be like.

Pine Nut Rosemary Shortbread

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature (seriously)
2/3 cup sugar
zest of one lemon
2/3 cup pine nuts, toasted and loosely chopped
2 teaspoons fresh rosemary, finely chopped

Mix flour and salt in a small bowl, using whisk to combine.

Cream butter until light and fluffy. Add sugar and lemon zest, then beat again. Add flour mixture, nuts and rosemary and mix until the dough goes just past the crumbly stage and begins to clump together (Heidi’s words, not mine, obviously, because mine never got past this stage). Turn dough out onto lightly floured work surface and knead once or twice to bring it together. Divide into two balls and flatted into disks about one inch thick. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 15 minutes. My way: squish into logs about one inch in diameter. Roll in plastic wrap and then refrigerate.

Preheat the oven to 350. Line a baking sheet with parchment. If you went with the log method, slice into 1/4 inch rounds and place on baking sheet. (Some of mine were thicker than this and I liked them better.) If you have a disk, roll out on lightly floured surface to 1/4 inch thickness. Cut with cookie cutters and place on baking sheet. Either way, bake for about 10 minutes or until slightly golden.

Baking, Desserts

Key Lime Pie

December 12, 2008 7 Comments

Any Dexter fans out there?

Season Three has turned out to be even more intense than the previous two — something I didn’t think the writers could do. But after the episode where … WARNING, possible spoilers and a little bit of profanity ahead for anyone not keeping up with this season … Camilla asks Dexter to find her the perfect piece of key lime pie, I found myself wanting a taste of that myself.

Camilla: You know, Dexter, my whole life I’ve been searching for…

Dexter: The meaning of life.

Camilla: The perfect key lime pie. And what do I get when I’m about to croak? Fucking pie crust, Reddywhip and green Jell-o

End spoilers and profanity.

So, the research began. And, after flipping through pages of recipes, it became clear there were two things that made a key lime pie authentic: key limes and no dairy. (My understanding is that this pie was born at a time when there was no real refrigeration in the Florida Keys, which is why canned condensed milk is used.)

As usual, this adventure was not without its disasters, er, learning experiences.

One valuable lesson: just because a can doesn’t have an expiry date doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a shelf life.

I was all excited that I already owned a couple of cans of sweetened condensed milk. (Side rant: Why are the cans in Canada 300-milliletres and the U.S. ones come in 14 ounces? That means I need to use one full can and most of another, but am left with some, which really bugs me. We share a border, why can’t we share can sizes? Also, on that note, a lot of recipes that come from the States simply say “one can of sweetened condensed milk” so I had to find out exactly how much that was. Yes, yes, I could have mathematically figured out how to use up both cans, but that was going to be a lot of fractions. Not that I don’t love math, I just don’t want to do it all the time. Okay, moving on.) And I was excited that they had no expiry dates.

And then I opened them.

They had gone golden coloured, looking a bit like they were turning themselves into dulce de leche. A little googling indicated they were safe still to eat, but one person posted in a forum that they probably shouldn’t be used for something like Key Lime Pie, which should come out a very pale, creamy yellow colour. So, it was off to the grocery store for two more cans. Thinking about it later, it occurred to me that I actually had no idea when I bought those first two cans. Yikes.

Key limes. Teeny, tiny limes. Full of teeny, tiny amounts of juice. They weren’t hard to find — most grocery stores around here have mesh bags of them amongst the Persian limes and lemons — nor were they hard to squeeze. But it took about 16 of them to get all the juice the recipe called for.

So, I could have made one big pie (in my still relatively new pie dish), but then I was out shopping and spied baby tart tins. Oh yeah, have to have those. First, who doesn’t love individual desserts? Second, they were just so darn cute. And they were on sale. There, three very fine reasons to purchase more bakeware.

The tarts ended up a bit shallow for all that filling, so I threw the rest of the mixture into a ramekin and just baked it off. That was a pretty tasty dessert too.

I cut it close, but had them ready to go for Sunday when I and my Dexter-watching friends dined on them while watching the next episode.

And I get what Camilla was searching for.

I kind of combined a couple of recipes here, and this is what I ended up with.

Key Lime Pie

15 graham crackers, crushed
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup butter, melted
4 large eggs, yolks only
1 3/4 cups sweetened condensed milk (14-ounce can)
12 key limes, juiced (1/2 cup fresh lime juice; it took 16 limes for me)
2 teaspoons lime zest

Preheat oven to 350

Beat egg yolks with a mixer until they lighten in colour and thicken. Add the zest and beat again. Add the juice and condensed milk, then thoroughly mix and let sit for 30 minutes as the mixture thickens.

Mix the crackers in a food processor until they are crumbs. Add sugar, then turn on processor and slowly pour in melted butter. Press into a nine-inch pie dish or tart pan and push up the sides slightly. Bake for 12 minutes until the pie shell is golden.

Pour mixture into the pie shell, and bake for 15 minutes. (Less if you are doing smaller, individual servings.) The centre should jiggle slightly when the pan is shaken.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool to room temperature before putting in the fridge. Let cool for another three hours before serving. Serve with whipped cream if desired. (I liked it with the whipped cream, even if it isn’t traditional, because it cuts the richness of the pie.)

Baking, Desserts

Apple Crisp

December 2, 2008 4 Comments

Somewhere in the pit of my storage room is a blue binder with Cook Book written in scraggly, child’s printing — possibly in silver crayon. There are a handful of pages of three-hole punched, lined paper inside and a series of dividers labelled with things like “dinner” and “dessert.” And on one of those pages is a recipe for Apple Crisp. For some reason I can even remember misspelling the recipe title and then making a doodle out of the error so the A in Apple was a little house with a chimney. Because, you know, that’s the kind of stuff I remember.

Apple Crisp was not necessarily a staple in my house growing up, but it is a dessert that conjures up memories of home and family. (For the record, we did have a fair share of this homey dessert.) There is comfort in the smell of cinnamon and apple cooking together in the oven, in the taste of the golden crumbly topping and the soft, sweet apples underneath, and the intermingling of hot dessert and cold vanilla ice cream. It’s no wonder I view it as the security blanket of desserts.

It’s equally no wonder that when I find myself with a plethora of apples that there is only one recipe I turn to.

It’s relatively fast, doesn’t take much prep and offers up the best kind of aromatherapy — a house that smells of apples and cinnamon.

I’m sure most people peel their apples first, so you get nothing by smooth apple goodness when you bite into a spoonful of crisp. But I am:

a) lazy

b) aware that there are many good nutrients in the peel

(The answer is A.)

So, I just cut chunks of apple off the core and then slice into uniformly sized pieces before dumping them all into the pie dish where I then toss them with the spices and sugar.

I found several recipes online where the cinnamon and nutmeg were designated for the topping, but that makes no sense to me. I want to flavour the apples and let the simplicity of the brown sugar-oat topping to stand on its own.

Apple Crisp

1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup rolled oats
6 cups sliced apples
1/4 cup white sugar
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 375. Slice the apples and toss with white sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg before pouring into pie dish (or a casserole dish works just as well). In separate bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, salt and rolled oats. Cut butter into flour mixture with pastry blender or two knives until mixture is crumbly. Pour over apple mixture. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes until topping is golden and juices are bubbling up at the edges.

Dinner, Vegetables

Roasted Tomato Soup

November 20, 2008 9 Comments

Sometimes, my apartment is the place where tomatoes go to die. I buy them, forget about them, and the slowly grow old, wrinkling away in their clamshell package until I’m utterly baffled about what I can do with them.

And then I had a brainwave (triggered in no small part by a recipe I saw over at 101 Cookbooks and then combined with an article from one issue out of my random collection of Cook’s Illustrated): why not roast them and make them into a soup? Then it doesn’t matter if they’re wrinkled. Or if they are wintry supermarket tomatoes that have virtually no flavour. Roasting will take care of both problems, especially the lack of flavour aspect as their summery, tomato flavour will intensify in the oven. Throw a couple of garlic cloves in with the tomatoes while they roast and add a hint of buttery, roasted garlic flavour to the soup.

The first time I made this, there was a tomato emergency. The collection I had was rapidly going south and was going to have to be tossed soon if I didn’t figure out something to do with them. Of course, since I was just playing around in the kitchen, I didn’t bother documenting the process.

The soup was full of flavour and velvety smooth. It was definitely a keeper.

The second time I made the soup, it was almost as good, but I’m going to suggest not using as much stock as I did this round. The first soup, which only had about two cups of stock, had a much more intense tomato flavour, which is what made the soup so great. The second one, I used three cups of stock. The tomato flavour was duller and I won’t be doing that again.

Roasted Tomato Soup

Six or seven tomatoes, cut in half or quarters depending on their size
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
one onion, diced
four cloves garlic, unpeeled
1/4 cup brandy, optional
1 tablespoon sugar
2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1/4 cup cream, milk or half-and-half
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 375. Cut tomatoes in halves or quarters, depending on their size, and lay cut side up in a roasting pan. Throw in unpeeled garlic cloves amongst the tomatoes. Drizzle everything with one tablespoon of olive oil and sprinkle with kosher or sea salt and fresh ground pepper. Roast for 30 to 45 minutes until the tomatoes and garlic have started to caramelize.

Heat the remaining tablespoon of olive oil in a saucepan on medium heat, then add the diced onion and saute until transluscent — about four or five minutes. Add brandy, if using, and cook for another minute or two. Add sugar, then stock. Bring to low boil.

Remove paper skins from garlic, then add the tomatoes and garlic into the pot with the stock. Let cook for a few minutes. Pour everything into blender and whiz until velvety smooth. Add cream or milk and whiz for another minute. Taste for seasonings. (Since there is salt on the tomatoes and in the stock, I advise waiting until the end before seasoning because you may not need to add anything.)

Baking

One-Cup Cookies

November 6, 2008 25 Comments

I’m not sure if these are a Prairie phenomenon or if it’s coincidence that I had never heard of them before moving to Calgary.

But they showed up in the newsroom one day, courtesy of a fellow reporter, and I was intrigued. Not quite oatmeal, not quite chocolate chip, not quite peanut butter, these One-Cup Cookies are like the best combination of cookies. The baker offered up a pair of recipes to try, but they essentially boil down to the simplest of formulas: one cup of everything. (OK, obviously not the leaveners.)

The main difference between the two recipes is the amount of peanut butter. One calls for a cup of the stuff, the other only 3/4 of a cup. After trying both (several times), I’ve decided I like the one with less peanut butter. The taste is barely noticeable, but adds just another dimension to these cookies.

The best thing about this recipe is that it’s infinitely adaptable. Add nuts, seeds, raisins as you see fit. Don’t like cranberries? Don’t add them. Don’t want your kids hopped up on chocolate? Omit the chips. And so on.

I love the addition of cranberries, though. The play of sweet chocolate against the tang of the slightly tart of the dried fruit is really nice.

Like all cookies, the trick to keeping these chewy is to pull them out of the oven, while they’re still slightly puffed and gooey looking in just the centre. They’ll keep cooking from the residual heat even after you pull them out, but won’t get overly crisp.

One-Cup Cookies

1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup peanut butter
2 eggs
1 cup rolled outs
1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup coconut
1 cup dried cranberries
1 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350. Cream butter and sugars, then beat in the eggs. Add peanut butter, then dry ingredients. Drop spoonfuls onto cookie sheet. Bake for 10 minutes, until edges are golden but middles are still slightly gooey looking. Let rest on cookie sheet for a few minutes before cooling on a wire rack.

Dinner, Vegetables

Risotto with Roasted Butternut Squash

October 29, 2008 8 Comments

Last week I worked a couple of night shifts.

I used to have a position where I worked nights for a month at a time, every three months. That was too much for me. Over the course of the weeks, I’d start to feel more and more ghost-like, spending my days alone and my nights with only a handful of colleagues; the final hour I was pretty much alone and I would slink out into the dark night, drive home and stay awake until three in the morning before finally crawling into bed.

But I don’t mind the odd night shift, actually. Sleeping in? A sunny day to one’s self? A few hours to bake and cook and photograph and eat? Sounds good to me. (Especially in these days of waning winter light, when full sun has been minimized to just a few short hours in the early afternoon.)

Plus, who doesn’t love the idea of waking up and having Risotto with Roasted Butternut Squash for breakfast?

That morning, searching around for something to eat, I realized I had better use up some butternut squash that was otherwise going to have to be imminently pitched. Roasting it was the only reasonable answer. And, as I dumped the cubes into a roasting dish and drizzled it with olive oil and sprinkled on salt and pepper, I remembered a Barefoot Contessa recipe for a risotto with roasted squash.

In pulling out my recipe book, however, I realized I was missing some key ingredients, including shallots and pancetta. I’m sure these things make her version even better, but this bastardized version made me swoon when I sat down less than an hour later with a big bowlful and the contented feeling that comes from hot food and knowing work is still hours away.

Luckily, I did have a small box of saffron — another of my myriad food impulse purchases that had not been cracked open. Saffron, those delicate threads, so scarlet, so fragile. I remember growing up, seeing the same type of small, clear plastic box in my mum’s cupboards. But I have no recollection of her ever using it. The red threads impart a lovely orange-yellow colour to the risotto and also their own flavour, which I can’t really attempt to explain. Still, while I made this with saffron, if you don’t have it, I wouldn’t panic.

This made enough to feed two adults generously, likely four as a side dish. Or, one of me over the course of several meals.

Risotto with Roasted Butternut Squash

1 small butternut squash (1 pound)
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
salt and pepper
1/2 onion, diced
3/4 cup arborio rice
pinch saffron (optional)
1/2 cup white wine
3 cups chicken stock
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan

Preheat oven to 400. Peel the butternut squash, halve it and remove seeds. Cut into 3/4″ cubes. Place squash in roasting dish or on sheet pan, toss with olive oil, 1 teaspoon salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Roast until tender and golden in spots, about 25 minutes. Toss once to ensure even roasting.Meanwhile, heat the chicken stock in a small covered saucepan. Leave it on low heat to simmer.

In saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon olive oil, add diced onion and saute until translucent. Put chicken stock in microwave safe bowl or measuring cup and heat. (Time will vary on the microwave; start with two minutes. This can also be done by warming the stock on the stove, but I find the microwave system saves me another pot to wash. If the stock cools too much, just microwave it again.)

Add rice to onion and oil mixture and stir until the grains are coated. Add the wine and let it reduce slightly. Add one cup of stock, along with the saffron, if using. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until the stock is absorbed — about five to 10 minutes. When the stock is almost gone, add the next cup. Repeat with the last cup of stock. When the liquid is all absorbed, remove pot from heat, stir in butter and cheese. Toss in roasted squash. Add salt and fresh pepper to taste.

Baking, Desserts

Pumpkin Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Icing

October 22, 2008 78 Comments

Hello fall!

Um, actually, that would have been more accurate about a month ago during the exactly two-day period that it was autumnal here.

Fall here leaves me wanting. One day the leaves are amber, gold, red; the next, they are brown, scattered, shredded on the ground. I want more time when there is only a slight nip in the air, when watery sunlight filters through the increasingly bare trees, when there is a crunch underfoot from those already fallen.

But, at least I can taste fall.

Pumpkin and squash and warm spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, ginger. Roasting and baking, soups and stews and pots simmering on the stove.

I went a little crazy at the grocery store, inspired by a host of pumpkin recipes I wanted to try out: pumpkin cinnamon rolls, chicken enchiladas with pumpkin sauce, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin pies. I walked out of there with six cans of pumpkin. Why do I always buy things like I am part of a family of six instead of a single girl in a tiny apartment with no discernable cupboard space?

(And, as an aside, why do all American recipes call for 15-ounce cans of pumpkin? They don’t appear to exist on this side of the border. I can only find 14 ounces or 28 ounces. Are we Canadians stingy with our pumpkin supplies?)

And which of all these recipes would have me cracking open the first can? It wasn’t much of a struggle to decide. I am increasingly drawn to cupcake recipes. I like individual desserts (perhaps I have sharing issues?) and cupcakes are so darn cute. So, when a friend invited me over for dinner, I shamelessly offered to make dessert. (One does not willingly make cupcakes when one lives alone. It is, literally, a recipe for disaster.)

So, Pumpkin Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Icing it was.

These were lovely and moist, full of flavour and ridiculously easy. I give two thumbs up to any recipe that doesn’t require me to soften the butter first. Sometimes I just can’t quite plan that far ahead. Since this one calls for melted butter, you can impulse bake these puppies. A dangerous thought indeed. And the icing was a breeze, even if you do need to pull out the butter and cream cheese early to make it whippably soft.

When I arrived at my friend’s house, she put the cupcakes up on the counter, but not far enough out of reach from her young son, who managed to swipe a finger over the icing of one cupcake. I agree, Erik, the icing is irresistible!

I used the same recipe from my Red Velvet Cake (hot pink velvet cake?) for the icing. It’s foolproof and ridiculously good.

The batter was a little too delicious, though. This recipe, according to Martha Stewart, will give you 18 cupcakes. (Find hers here.) I don’t know what size of pan Ms. Stewart is using, but this easily made two batches in my 12-cupcake pan. Or, more accurately, it made 23 cupcakes. It would have made 24 had I not eaten so much batter. Good lord.

Pumpkin Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Icing

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon coarse salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (I doubled this because I love nutmeg.)
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 can (15 ounces) pumpkin puree (I used a 14-ounce can and it was still lovely and pumpkin-y)

Preheat oven to 350. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and the spices. In another bowl, whisk together the butter, brown sugar, granulated sugar and eggs. Add dry ingredients and whisk until smooth. Then whisk in pumpkin puree.

Line the cupcake pan with liners and fill each about halfway with batter. Bake until tops spring back when touched and a cake tester comes out clean, about 20 to 25 minutes. Rotate the pans if needed. (I have one pan, so did not bother with that step.) Transfer to wire rack and let cool completely before icing.

Cream Cheese Icing

8 oz. cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
3 cups icing sugar, sifted
1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

Beat butter and cream cheese until light and fluffy. Add vanilla and sugar.

Dinner, Vegetables

Butternut Squash and Caramelized Onion Pastries

October 13, 2008 5 Comments

I was first intrigued by this combination when I saw a posting about butternut squash and caramelized onion in a galette that referred me back to Smitten Kitchen. I printed it out and was ready to go until I looked over the instructions for the galette’s pastry and got a bit confused. I’m not going to lie, pastry intimidates me to begin with, so I just wasn’t sure I would be able to pull this recipe off. But I had bought the butternut squash already and had some fontina that was quickly going south. And, oh, what’s this, a package of puff pastry in the freezer that’s not getting any younger too….

Could I overcome my fears after the puff pastry disaster?

So, I hauled out the puff pastry and let it defrost overnight in the fridge. There’s only one way to overcome such fears — confronting them.

In the end, this was relatively easy to assemble. I peeled and cut up the squash, tossed with it some olive oil, salt and pepper and threw it in the oven while I puttered around tidying up, checking email, playing a few scrabble moves on Facebook. Later, I caramelized the onions, grated the cheese and then rolled out the puff pastry. I didn’t quite think that step through, and cut the puff pastry dough along the diagonal line, leaving me with triangles to roll out. I ended up with these totally nonsensical shapes, but luckily I was able to fold them into little packages nonetheless.

All assembled, I brushed the parcels with whipping cream (because I had some and I had to use it up) and sprinkled with Himalayan pink salt. (I am the worst impulse shopper. What compelled me to buy pink salt? Sigh.)

These were fantastic, but now I’m going to try the combination over pasta.

Butternut Squash and Caramelized Onion Pastries

1 small butternut squash, about one pound
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 large red onion, halved in thinly sliced
1 teaspoon salt
pepper
pinch sugar
3/4 cup fontina cheese, grated (I’d be tempted to try this with other cheeses too)
1 package frozen puff pastry, defrosted overnight in the fridge
milk or cream

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Peel the squash, halve, scoop out seeds and dice into 1/2″ squares. Toss with olive oil, salt and pepper in a baking dish, then roast for about 30 minutes until it is starting to get golden and soft. Let cool.

Melt butter in a pan, add onion, sugar and salt and cook over low heat, stirring occassionally, until the onions are golden. Let cool.

Divide the puff pastry in four and roll out on lightly floured surface. Add one-quarter of the cheese in the centre of the pastry, then top with about a half-cup of the squash and one-quarter of the onions. Fold one side over the mound of cheese and vegetables and then the other, tucking the edge of the pastry under the parcel. Repeat with the other two sides, so you end up with a rectangle. (Or, frankly, close up the parcels however you like.)

Put the parcels on a baking sheet and brush the four parcels with milk or cream. Bake at 350 until golden — about 20 to 25 minutes.

Baking, Desserts

Nutmeg Shortbread

October 3, 2008 8 Comments

I am completely addicted to other food blogs and find my need for a quick fix completely appeased by Foodgawker and Tastespotting. No, no, go on, take a look. I’ll wait. (Although, some of you, hopefully have just come from there.)

As a result, an ever-growing list of recipes to try is starting to clog up my bookmarks folder and I’m realizing that I have to actually start making some of things rather than just drooling over images of what other bloggers have made.

Which leads me to Nutmeg Shortbread.

These had been advertised as “tea cookies” at Apple Pie, Patis and Pate, but as I made them I realized they were shortbread. (Is “tea cookies” a common alternative name for shortbread?) This was kind of funny because I don’t love shortbread. But I really liked this recipe. I suspect using granulated sugar instead of powdered sugar gave them a slight chew I don’t find in other recipes.

Since there are so few ingredients, I have to say that this recipe really requires freshly grated nutmeg. Like other spices, pre-ground nutmeg loses something. I don’t think you will regret buying fresh nutmeg. These little nuggets are so innocuous at first appearance, but are beautiful marbled loveliness on the inside and the smell and taste is intoxicating.

When I wrote out the recipe, I only copied the ingredients, the oven temperature and the time the cookies should be in the even, believing the method would be the same as other cookies. So, I used my hand-held mixer to add in the flour and the dough seemed to shatter into granules. And that’s when I really began to freak out. Apparently, I was supposed to mix the flour in by hand. Whoops. But I thought I’d see it through anyway. It’s not really a disaster, I figured, until they come out of the oven as a disaster. So I packed the dough into logs, wound them up in parchment and threw them in the fridge overnight.

When I unwound the packages the next afternoon, the dough had formed into nice logs and, for the most part, were easily cut into slices. There were the odd pieces that crumbled a bit when I tried to cut off a slice — mostly, I suspect, because this is where I had joined the lumps of dough and I guess it was not quite as seamless as it looked..

Still, they baked beautifully and were super tasty. My love of intense flavours, however, was still left wanting. Next time, more nutmeg.

Nutmeg Shortbread

1 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 large egg
2 1/2 cups flour
pinch of salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (But you may want to consider adding more if you really like the taste of this spice.)

Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla and the egg. In a separate bowl, stir together flour, salt and nutmeg. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture by hand until just combined.

Divide the dough in four and roll into logs about 8″ long and 1″ in diameter. Wrap in wax paper, plastic wrap or parchment and chill until firm, from two hours to overnight.

To bake, preheat the oven to 350. Cut each log into pieces 1/2″ thick and space evenly on baking sheet. Bake for 10 minutes or until just golden.

Baking, Desserts

Earl Grey Cupcakes with Lemon Buttercream

September 21, 2008 63 Comments

I don’t drink coffee.

I know, I know. Take a minute to digest that fact. It is a bit strange.

But I grew up in a household where there was always a pot of tea sitting around. And it was always Earl Grey. And it still is.

I’m sure it’s partly that because I grew up with it, but it’s still my favourite flavour of tea. But I also love the taste of perfume-y Bergamot — an essence from the skin of a sour fruit. While my family likes Twinings for it’s faint Bergamot taste, I prefer Tazo, which has a bit more of the essence in its mix. Even better? Stash Tea’s Double Bergamot.

And, full disclosure, I like the smell of Earl Grey tea so much, I even bought the Demeter fragrance of it.

While here at home I drink it with milk, at my parents’ house I always have my Earl Grey tea with lemon and sugar. So when I came across a recipe for Earl Grey Cupcakes with Lemon Buttercream Icing, I immediately bookmarked it. And then, like about a thousand other recipes, I forgot about it for some indeterminate amount of time until I got bored and began going through the aforementioned bookmarks looking for something to surf to.

I had some extra lemons lying around after making Whiskey Sours on the weekend, was bored and basically wanted to hang out in my kitchen baking and listening to good music. So, I whipped up these babies, ate two and then realized I was going to have to take the rest to work the next day lest I eat them all.

These will be made again. I might add more tea next time. Also, it was a particularly juicy lemon I used in the buttercream and, in hindsight, I should have measured instead of squeezing through a sieve and right into the bowl. So, it wasn’t all that surprising the icing was quite sloppy. Another cup or so of icing sugar did the trick, but next time I’ll be more careful.

Then again, when I took some into work (I think my colleagues were more excited about me launching a food blog for the inevitable leftovers), almost every comment revolved around the icing. It seems I’m not the only one that loves a lemon dessert.

This recipe originally comes from Desert Candy. Here is her post on it.

She made 24 cupcakes, but I halved it to make 12. This is the version I used. Double if you wish. Also, the original recipe called for self-rising flour. I didn’t have any, wasn’t going to go out and get some (is it even available in Canada?), so some googling led me to several versions of how to make “self-rising” flour (which basically just has leaveners and salt added already). The recipe below uses all-purpose flour.

I also “lemoned up” the icing by using the zest of an entire lemon and more than the required amount of lemon juice. Feel free to tone it down, if you wish.

Earl Grey Cupcakes with Lemon Buttercream

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 egg
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/4 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. salt
1/2 cup milk
1 tbsp. Earl Grey tea (I used 1 bag and didn’t measure. I might add more next time.)

Preheat the oven to 350. Beat the butter and sugar together until it is light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, making sure they are thoroughly combined before adding the next one. Mix together the dry ingredients, including the tea. Beat in half of the dry mixture with the wet, then add the milk and the rest of the dry mixture, stirring until just combined. Line the cupcake pan with 12 cups and fill them about two-thirds full. Bake 20 to 25 minutes. Cool thoroughly before frosting.
Lemon Buttercream

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
2 cups icing sugar
zest of one lemon
2 tbsp. lemon juice

Cream butter, then add the icing sugar and beat until fluffy. Add the lemon zest, juice and beat until smooth. Spread over cooled cupcakes.

Baking, Desserts

Brown Butter Plum Cake

September 8, 2008 24 Comments

It’s not often that I see a recipe, print it off and then make it immediately. But when I saw Julie’s post on what she has called Browned Butter Bliss, I was intrigued.

Not only had she raved about this baked dessert, but it sounded delicious and ridiculously easy. If that doesn’t tempt someone (namely me) to try it out, what will?

Plus, making such a fantastic looking dessert also meant I would have to purchase a pie plate. Any excuse to buy new kitchen goodies! Of course, now I might actually have to learn how to make pie.

A cake/cobbler type of dessert, its flavour is heightened by browning the butter before making the dough, adding a nice nuttiness. But, other than the added step of watching and swirling the melting butter to make sure that it doesn’t go from browned loveliness to black, this recipe is a cinch.

I ate a piece as soon as it had cooled enough for, you know, scientific, recipe-testing purposes. And then I ate another piece a few hours later when it was well and truly cooled to room temperature for, you know, comparison purposes. And I have to say that while Julie seemed to prefer it fresh from the oven, I had different feelings. Once it had cooled, the purply plummy juices had soaked more into the cake, which had solidified slightly.

This recipe is adapted from Julie (see her post here), which in turn appears to be adapted from elsewhere. That’s one of the things I love about cooking: it’s about taking something and making it your own.

Brown Butter Plum Cake

8 or so plums, thickly sliced (or try peaches, apples, apricots)
3/4 cup + 3 Tbsp. sugar, divided
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
dash nutmeg
1/2 cup butter
2 large eggs
1 cup all-purpose flour

Preheat the oven to 350F and butter a pie plate.

Toss the fruit in a bowl with about 2 tbsp. of the sugar, the cinnamon and nutmeg. Spread into the plate.

Melt the butter in a saucepan or small frying pan and keep cooking it for about five minutes until it turns golden. (Swirl the pot occasionally and watch it carefully; it goes quickly from brown to black.)

Pour the butter into a bowl and add the 3/4 cup of sugar, then the eggs and flour. Pour over the fruit and sprinkle with one tablespoon of sugar.

Bake for 40 to 45 minutes until golden and the juices are coming up around the edges.

Delicious with vanilla ice cream.

Salads, Vegetables

Heirloom Tomatoes with Balsamic Reduction

September 1, 2008 4 Comments

I have virtually given up on tomatoes. The ones from the supermarket are bland, flavourless faux tomatoes and are hardly worth buying. Grape tomatoes are about the only ones I bother buying any more because they still seem to have some tomato-y taste.

As a kid, summers were spent with my grandparents on one of the Gulf Islands. They grew their own tomatoes and I would eat them off the vine, warm from the sun and bursting with that summery taste. I loved too the green, fresh smell that came when I brushed up against the dark green plants. Years later I bought a perfume from Demeter called Tomato that has somehow recreated that smell of the tomato vines. When I put it on, I’m transported back to my grandfather’s garden with its tall chicken-wire walls to keep the deer out.

So, when I saw a package of Heirloom Tomatoes at the farmer’s market recently, I ignored the price tag and put them in my basket. It was an odd little collection of cherry tomatoes, green tomatoes, some purplish ones and pear-shaped ones.

When I got home, I started eating them right out of the cellophane package, some straight up, others split in half and sprinkled with a bit of sea salt.

Most tasted like tomatoes, with the exception of the Green Zebra.

While I could have eaten them all just standing at the kitchen counter, I decided to make a very basic salad with just tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil and some reduced Balsamic vinegar.

I know I have already mentioned my love of all things vinegar, but reducing Balsamic gives it a sweeter, more syrupy consistency. Which makes it great for this type of salad because then you don’t need to make a full vinaigrette. It’s also great on sliced strawberries or on tomato tarts, among other things.

Making a Balsamic Reduction is super simple. Just pour a cup of the vinegar in a saucepan, put it on medium-high heat and let it reduce until it is thick and coats the back of a spoon. Some recipes suggest adding some sugar, but I have always liked my dressings tarter than not, so I don’t bother.

Drizzle over cut tomatoes and then add a bit of olive oil.

This would also be great on a more traditional Caprese salad with tomatoes, fresh mozzarella and basil.

Vegetables

Beans with Caramelized Onions

August 26, 2008 1 Comment

I have certain web surfing rituals.

Each morning, if I have time, I quickly check The Morning News for its quirky collection of news from various US newspapers. On Sundays, I visit the New York Times and read the Modern Love column and the Ethicist. (Okay, yes, I read the Vows section too; it’s a bit of a secret shame really. But I do love reading how these people met and how their lives have come to be intertwined. And, uh, I judge the dresses.)

And on Wednesdays, I check in with the New York Times Dining & Wine section where I read through great stories, get inspired by recipes and print out my fair share to try at home.

But, of all the recipes I have printed from there in the last year, very few have actually been translated into food on the table.

That is until I read a recent article about green beans (which I love) that I knew I had to try immediately. And, what serendipity! I already had a nice package of green beans from the Farmer’s Market sitting in my fridge. Must have been food fate.

I am now in love with this recipe. The softened tomatoes, the beans and the sweet onions with the tang of herbs….

Of course, I had to make a few changes. The recipe suggests adding water when the liquid evaporates. Um, no. I’ll add some more wine, thanks. Oh, and I don’t let all of that delicious liquid evaporate away. Leave some and then use a chunk of baguette to sop it up from your plate.

This is adapted from Melissa Clark’s A Good Appetite column at the New York Times. (Her original recipe is Grilled Sausages and Summer Beans with Herbs, Tomatoes and Caramelized Onions, but I only did the beans part of it and, therefore, have only included the beans aspect of the recipe. Also, instead of copying out her recipe word for word, I’ve written it including the changes I made.)

Beans with Caramelized Onions

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
4 fresh thyme sprigs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Pinch of sugar
1 cup halved cherry tomatoes
1 pound green beans
1/4 cup white wine (but, as indicated above, I kept using it for adding more liquid. So, likely more like a cup of white wine, unless you want to use water.)
1/2 cup chopped mixed fresh herbs, including basil and parsley

Heat oil in a large skillet until shimmering. Add onion, thyme and a pinch of salt, pepper and sugar. Saute over medium-high heat until onions are golden in spots and browned around the edges, about seven minutes.

Add the cherry tomatoes and cook until they start to release their juices, about two minutes. Add the beans and wine and toss everything. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low and cook three minutes. Uncover pan, add herbs and continue to cook. Toss beans occasionally, until there is only a bit of liquid left and beans are cooked to taste — five to 30 minutes depending on if you want them tender crispy or a little more cooked. Add more wine to the pan if it gets too dry. (You can also use water, if you’d like.)

Consider serving with chunks of fresh bread for mopping up the wine/bean/tomato juices.

Dinner

Balsamic Steaks

August 12, 2008 9 Comments

I love vinegar.

As a child, when I used to visit my grandparents on the weekends by taking a ferry to one of the Gulf Islands, I used to take packages of white vinegar from the on-board cafeteria and suck on them during the 50-minute boat ride. Yes, it kind of makes me shudder now. I have always preferred Salt & Vinegar chips to any other flavour. And I swear I’m addicted to dipping focaccia in olive oil swirled with deep purple-black Balsamic vinegar.

I love steak too.

So, it only seemed natural to marry the two together in some divine marinated bliss.

I think I first came across the idea several years ago when I found a recipe online for steaks marinated in, among other ingredients, Balsamic vinegar, garlic and olive oil. But it involved searing on the stove and then finishing in the oven and, after making it once, I decided that was a bit of a hassle that didn’t interest me. And then, last week, I impulsively bought some steaks. (Honestly, I love them, but do find them a bit baffling.)

I’m sure part of the temptation was because the label on them gave some instructions on how to cook them (which is the part I find most baffling. I have no idea what this stems from; it all seems straight forward when I’m watching TV chefs do it). Anyway, I came home and realized I would now have to actually DO something with them. So I popped them in a freezer bag with olive oil, Balsamic and several cloves of chopped garlic. Then I put them on the counter to marinate and started making the lemon custard cakes. But, by the time those babies were in the oven, I was no longer interested in dinner. (Full disclosure: one of those became my dinner that night.)

Best lazy move ever.

They marinated for 24 hours before I could finally throw them on a piping hot grill pan (a city-girl-with-no-balcony-and-no-barbecue’s best friend). A few minutes on each side and a wee rest under a tin foil blanket and dinner was ready. (Yes, there were side dishes, but, the steak was the star of the show.) Medium-rare goodness with a garlicky-sweet-vinegar undertone.

It was so good I made it again a week later.

There is no official recipe here. Gauge measurements based on how much steak you have. This is a rough estimate for the two steaks I made. And, yes, I love garlic. You may want to ease up (or add more).

Balsamic Steaks

1/2 cup olive oil (don’t bother with extra virgin here; all that lovely grassy flavour will evaporate in the smoke)
1/3 cup Balsamic vinegar
4 cloves garlic, chopped (I don’t completely mince them because burnt garlic is disgusting and this way, bits that cling to the steak still taste good.)
freshly ground pepper

Mix all the ingredients in a freezer bag. Add the steaks and let it marinate. One hour is probably the minimum, 24 hours is fantastic.

Heat a grill pan/normal pan/barbecue/hibachi etc. until it is sizzling hot. Add steaks. Cook to your preference. I add the salt after cooking, so it doesn’t draw out any of the steak’s moisture. Let the steaks rest for several minutes after pulling them off the heat, so the juices can redistribute. Otherwise, if you cut into it immediately, they’ll all drain out and the steak will be dry.

Good with baby potatoes, which can sop up all the luscious vinegar-steak juices.

Salads, Vegetables

Fresh Corn Salad

August 4, 2008 4 Comments

A group of friends and I were talking about things we like to make for dinner a couple of weeks ago, when one mentioned her relatively recently acquired love of all things barbecue. And that, inevitably, led to a discussion about side dishes.

There has been a lot of recipes lately for grilled corn, which sounds delicious (especially when there is also talk about chili-lime butter to spread on after), but I am a sad city dweller with no patio/balcony/deck and, subsequently, no hibachi/grill/barbecue. But that doesn’t mean that I miss out when corn is in season.

Every summer I make a few rounds of Fresh Corn Salad, when corn on the cob is ripe and basil is plentiful at the Farmer’s Market. There are only seven ingredients in this salad, and that includes the dressing.

This is really easy to throw together and well worth the effort. (Okay, maybe the actual cutting-the-corn-off-the-cob is a bit messy.) (I recently saw this gadget that strips the kernels from the cob and while I love all things gadgety, even I feel that’s a bit much.)

I did initially have a tough time finding cider vinegar, but then found some at my local Safeway (along with another much-loved Barefoot Contessa ingredient: champagne vinegar. Um, actually, I just looked and mine is “champagne style.” What can I say? I’m a champagne girl on a “champagne-style” budget.) They come in pretty small bottles, but I don’t use cider vinegar all that often, so it works out.

This recipe is from The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook.

Fresh Corn Salad

5 ears corn, shucked
1/2 cup small-diced red onion (1 small onion)
3 tbsp. cider vinegar
3 tbsp. good olive oil
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup chiffonade fresh basil leaves

In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the corn for 3 minutes until the starchiness is just gone. Drain and immerse it in ice water to stop the cooking and set the colour. When the corn is cool, cut the kernels off the cob, cutting close to the cob.

Toss the kernels in a large bowl with the red onions, vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Just before serving, toss in the fresh basil. Taste for seasonings and serve cold or at room temperature.

Baking

Berry Scones

July 21, 2008 3 Comments

I’m behind on my blogging due to many reasons, including the fact that I am unsure what I’ve even been subsisting on for the last two weeks. (Well, that’s not completely true; I had about four days’ worth of mustard-butter broccoli pasta to get through.) And I guess I was also hesitating to post these scones for several reasons, not the least of which is that they were only mostly successful. I mean, who wants to read a cooking blog by someone who keeps making mistakes? It doesn’t scream confidence.

That’s not to say these Berry Scones weren’t light and flaky and fully of raspberry deliciousness. It’s just that I really should have moved the oven rack up about two levels so the bottoms didn’t bake (um, brown) quite as quickly as they ended up doing. However, perhaps we can all use this as a lesson about making sure your oven rack is in the middle of the oven when it comes to baking and not being lazy about moving it when you discover it’s a bit low.

So, this really all began because I had this extra buttermilk lying around and I really didn’t want to waste it. And I was on a bit of a scone kick because I do believe that practice makes perfect. Oh, and because I believe in full disclosure, it was also a bit because I had just bought my first set of biscuit cutters — a lovely batch of three varying sizes that nest inside each other. So, really, a buttermilk scone made perfect sense. And, bless the Internet, I found a nice recipe.

All went surprisingly well, though it did get a bit messy because I broke apart the frozen raspberries as I wanted them to be a little more well distributed. I now have a pink-stained rolling pin, but it was worth it. I’d much rather have raspberries in every bite than just one or two in an entire scone.

Thankfully, because they were pretty tall and flaky, it was easy to just cut the less-than-desirable bottoms off and continue to enjoy.

In future, I would add more lemon zest because I love all things lemon and I feel it would have perked these up even more, adding to the summery flavour.

Berry Scones

4 3/4 cups flour
1 cup, 1 tbsp. unsalted butter
1 tbsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup fruit (fresh or dried)
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1 tsp. lemon zest

Preheat oven to 400. Mix together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and sugar. Using a food processor, a pastry blender or two knives, cut the butter into the flour until it looks like coarse oatmeal. Add the lemon zest and fruit and mix to combine. Add all of the buttermilk at once, then stir just until the dough comes together. Topple out onto floured counter and form into a ball before rolling out until it’s about an inch thick. Cut out using cutters or into rustic triangles using a knife.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, though I would start checking sooner.

Eat. Especially if you can find devonshire cream somewhere.

Dinner, Pasta, Vegetables

Mustard-butter Broccoli Pasta

July 9, 2008 30 Comments

I have very particular feelings about condiments. These may verge a bit on condiment OCD.

Growing up, I refused to eat — in no particular order — mayo, mustard, relish, chutney. And mushrooms. Not a condiment, I know, but it was something I refused to eat. My burgers were dry except for ketchup and that was just fine with me. Except, oddly, McDonald’s hamburgers with their thin scraping of yellow mustard. Somehow that was OK with me.

Nowadays, things have relaxed slightly. I still ask for no mayo, if it’s just straight-up, out-of-the-jar, spread. Bring on the pesto, lemon, dill, herb, curry variations. I won’t go out of my way to add relish or mustard, but I enjoy them on my burger. (Oh god, when I decided to finally try a White Spot burger — the real ones from B.C., not these faux Alberta versions —and had the Triple O sauce? Damn, that is good condiment.)

(Ketchup is good, but belongs only on fries, hot dogs, hamburgers and sausages. That is all.)

And the turning point may have been Mustard-butter Broccoli Pasta.

Until I had this, I was certain I didn’t like Dijon mustard. I was wrong. Oh, so, very wrong.

This is a wonderful summer pasta, partly because of the bright colour and fresh taste, but also because it requires but one pot. And, if you’re quick on the ball and plan ahead, you can use the summer heat to soften butter, which is one of the “sauce” ingredients. Of course, if you’re a bit forgetful (like me), there is always the microwave. That said, softening the butter naturally is much tastier. (Full disclosure: I have used Becel to make this and it’s still good.)

My Mum first made this many, many years ago, then photocopied it for me while I lived for a summer in Kitimat with her own notes neatly written out in red pen. And this recipe has become one of those comfort ones that has followed me as I lived in teeny-tiny towns across B.C., slogging my way through jobs at teeny-tiny newspapers, and over to Japan where I lived for a year. Sure, finding Dijon was tricky, but it was doable. And, more importantly, it was worth it.

I like to use penne with this because then it’s super easy to eat, plus the penne rigate’s ridges pick up more sauce. Of course, the big carriers are the broccoli spears; they become sponges for the mustard-butter sauce. And, frankly, I’ll use whatever pasta I have on hand. Case in point: tonight’s dinner was farfalle.

I’ve made some changes from the original recipe, so this is the version as I make it.

Mustard-butter Broccoli Pasta

1/2 cup butter
4 tbsp. Dijon mustard (I use generic — gasp! — Safeway brand. I like it better than Grey Poupon.)
2 cloves garlic, finely minced (I use my lovely, lovely rasp.)
Salt and pepper
Herbs (chives, parsley or green onion tops), about 4 tbsp. total (And if I don’t have them, I don’t worry about it.)
2 or 3 cups broccoli florets, from two crowns
3/4 pound pasta

Let the butter soften, then mix in the mustard, herbs and pepper. Check for seasonings before adding more salt. Set a huge pot of water on the stove to boil. When it comes to a rolling boil, season liberally with salt, then add the pasta. Cut the broccoli florets off the stem and set aside. When the pasta is about two or three minutes from being cooked to al dente, throw in the broccoli and stir to let it cook with the pasta. Drain when the pasta is tender and the broccoli is still green. Throw back into the pot and stir in the mustard-butter mixture. The heat from the cooked pasta and broccoli will melt the butter mixture. Check for seasonings and serve.

Note: I usually hold back some of the mustard-butter. Often you won’t need all of it. But when I put away the leftovers in containers, I spoon a bit of the mixture on top. That way, when you reheat it the next day (or whenever) in the microwave, it’s still a bit saucy.

Baking

In pursuit of focaccia perfection

July 1, 2008 25 Comments

There is a restaurant in Victoria that I am almost incapable of avoiding during any visit to that lovely little city. Pagliacci’s was the scene of more than a few fun nights out with friends while we procrastinated on assignments from UVic and has subsequently become a place that speaks to me of good memories along with good food. I am positively addicted to their dish called the Prawn Broker (spinach pasta, prawns and cashews in a coconut-curry sauce) and will admit with no hesitation that I always order the full size — which is far too big for one sitting — so that I can enjoy just a little bit more later. (Side note: Every few weeks I search the Internet in the apparently feeble hope that the recipe will magically appear. Future blogging may include attempts to recreate the thing myself. Success is not guaranteed.)

But, while the Prawn Broker is my main dish of choice, I could very easily live on the baskets of focaccia set on the table shortly after ordering. Chewy, thickly crusted, salty. I have no idea what magic lies in that recipe which leads to such bready perfection. I can only presume part of the reason is a thick dousing of olive oil. But there are no apparent herbs or crystals of salt to hint at what else goes into this recipe.

My pursuit of focaccia perfection began about a year ago when I bought (finally!) a handheld mixer. (Friends were unsurprisingly baffled when I made cookies without a mixer, using my own arm strength to cream butter and sugar together.) To my delight, it came with two dough hooks, which opened up the world of bread baking. Okay, so, it’s a pretty limited world at this point, but nevertheless. Since then, I’ve tried to make focaccia a few times, but found it lacking. Where i wanted dense and chewy, these attempts were light and, at one point, crumbly (don’t try to make bread with all-purpose flour, apparently). The top was delicious, owing mostly to a liberal sprinkling of flaky Maldon salt, chopped rosemary and a few generous glugs of olive oil that filled in the divots I had dimpled across the surface of the pale dough. But it wasn’t the best ever.

Baking bread, I fear, is one of those arts that is being lost in my generation. The reason I never made bread before was that, frankly, kneading baffles me. I never seem to get the dough to come together and never seem to have the patience to keep going. Growing up, my mum often made homemade bread and I would “help” but eventually she would take over the kneading. (This is why the dough hooks were such a welcome addition to my mixer.) But also lost is the knowledge on how to affect the outcome of recipes.

I was sharing the focaccia dilemma with my friend Shelley one afternoon when she asked me a few questions about the recipe and I mentioned that it called for the dough to rise three times. Well, she said, that explained why it was so light. Fewer chances to rise = denser dough. Of course, now that she has said that, it makes perfect sense. But since I didn’t know much about baking bread, it didn’t occur to me to play around with the recipe. Of course, now that i *do* know, I’m making it a mission to make the best focaccia possible.

This time I tried a different recipe, but modified it slightly by not letting it rise a second time in the hope it would produce a chewier end result. It definitely did. But it’s still not as good as the bread from Pagliacci’s and I felt the focaccia overall could have used some more flavour. The top was pretty good, though, owing I’m sure to the generous amount of salt, olive oil and chopped rosemary.

And so, the pursuit continues.

Here is the latest attempt. It comes from the fabulous Rebar Modern Food Cookbook, which, as previously mentioned, I bought only for a salad dressing recipe. In this case, however, I didn’t let it rise a second time and I didn’t bother with the garlic, as I find it very hard to keep it from burning. There are few tastes worse than burnt garlic. This is the recipe as printed.

Rosemary Garlic Foccacia

1 3/4 cups warm water
1 tbsp. traditional baking yeast
1/2 tsp. sugar
2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup olive oil
4 cups unbleached flour

Topping

4-6 garlic cloves, minced
4 tbsp. olive oil
2 tsp. coarse salt
2 tbsp. chopped rosemary
cracked black pepper

In a large mixing bowl, combine the warm water, yeast and sugar. Let the mixture sit until it foams. Stir in salt and olive oil, then start adding flour, one cup at a time, beating well with a wooden spoon. (Yeah, I used my mixer here.) When you can no longer stir, turn the dough out on a floured surface and knead in the remaining flour. Knead the dough until smooth and elastic, sprinkling just enough flour on the counter to prevent sticking.

Form the dough into a ball and place a large, lightly oiled bowl. Cover with a clean, damp cloth and set the bowl in a warm, draft-free spot. Let rise until doubled in bulk (1 – 1 1/2 hours). Punch the dough down and let it rise again until doubled.

Pre-heat the oven to 350F. Place the dough on a well-oiled 12″x16″ baking sheet with 1/2″ sides. Gently stretch the dough to roughly fit the dimensions of the pan. Drizzle the surface with olive oil and spread the minced garlic over the entire area. Sprinkle chopped rosemary evenly on top, followed by coarse salt. Finish with cracked pepper. Using your fingertips, gently poke indentations over the entire surface. It should appear dimpled and rustic-looking. Let rise again for about 15 minutes, or just until it puffs up slightly.

Place the loaf in the center rack of the oven. Bake for 20 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through. The garlic should be lightly golden. Be careful not to over bake. Serve warm.

Baking, Desserts

Chocolate Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Icing

June 25, 2008 6 Comments

Most smart bakers know to make sure everything is ready to go in advance of getting started. I am, apparently, not a smart baker.

We were celebrating a (much belated) birthday for a good friend. Some wiggling around with the schedule had the celebration moved from brunch to Sunday night dinner and I volunteered (most willingly — any excuse to bake) to bring the birthday dessert. All week I Googled for moist, rich chocolate cake recipes and then sat there trying to decide which would be better: mayo-based or buttermilk; white icing or chocolate; cupcakes or layer cake. Finally, when I shared my dilemma with a friend, she queried why I wasn’t using a Barefoot Contessa recipe. Indeed! Why wasn’t I?

She has two recipes in her books and one online at Food & Wine. Since I already bought the books, I figured I may as well try one of those and, at last, settled on the Chocolate Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Icing. My love of this combination knows no bounds, so I’m kind of surprised I didn’t think of this recipe immediately.

Initially, it was all going very well. I ran out to the store to buy sour cream, buttermilk and coffee, along with whipping cream for the icing, then returned to begin. There was butter to soften and dry ingredients to sift (and, boy did I sift those. I learned my lesson from the Red Velvet cake when not sifting the cocoa with the flour led to brown swirls through the cake.) and, of course, photos to take to document my progress.

Cakes still make me a bit nervous. I’m worried I’ll overmix and make a tough cake and that is not eased by the fact most recipes have this whole “mix in thirds” step. What if it’s not exactly thirds? Also, I think a lot of recipes these days assume people have stand mixers, which makes this step (among others) much easier, then when trying to hold the mixer while pouring in a third of the dry mixture and not end up covered in cocoa and flour dust.

But, for the most part, it all went really well. The batter seemed incredibly light at the end (Okay, and, yes, it did taste good.) and I was all ready to put the batter into the tins. I pulled out my cupcake liners and found I only had five left. Gah! Thankfully, there’s a grocery store a little over a block away, so I turned off the oven and bolted down there where I bought some liners and then raced back. I was really worried that extra time would ruin the batter somehow.

In the end, it was only a 15-minute delay and I don’t think it affected the cupcakes. They baked up perfectly, though for less time than the recipe suggested owing, I suspect, to the fact that my muffin tins are more shallow and took less batter to fill. (I used a 1/8 cup scoop, which worked perfectly. No spillage.)

The cupcakes are not overly sweet, which was a nice counterpoint to the rich peanut butter icing.

This recipe is from Barefoot Contessa at Home.

Chocolate Cupcakes with Peanut Butter Icing

12 tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature (that’s 3/4 cup for those of us that don’t use sticks of butter)
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
2 extra-large eggs, at room temperature
2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
1 cup buttermilk, shaken, at room temperature
1/2 cup sour cream, at room temperature
2 tbsp. brewed coffee (Full disclosure: I don’t drink coffee. I made a cup of instant and it tasted awful to me, so I only threw in less than a tablespoon. I suspect good coffee may be a great addition.)
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup good cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. kosher salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line cupcake pans with paper liners.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and two sugars on high speed until light and fluffy, approximately five minutes. (For those of us without a stand mixer, a handheld is just fine. It just makes it a bit trickier when mixing in the wet and dry ingredients.) Lower the speed to medium, add the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla and mix well. In a separate bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, sour cream and coffee. In another bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt. On low speed, add the buttermilk mixture and the flour mixture alternately in thirds to the mixer bowl, beginning with the buttermilk mixture and ending with the flour mixture. Mix only until blended. Fold the batter with a rubber spatula to be sure it’s completely blended.

Divide the batter among the cupcake pans (one rounded standard ice cream scoop per cup is the right amount). Bake in the middle of the oven for 20 to 25 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes, remove from the pans, and allow to cool completely before frosting.

Frost each cupcake with peanut butter icing and sprinkle with chopped peanuts, if desired.

Kathleen’s Peanut Butter Icing

1 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 cup creamy peanut butter
5 tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 tsp. pure vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
1/3 cup heavy cream (I used whipping cream)

Place the confectioners’ sugar, peanut butter, butter, vanilla and salt in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. Mix on medium-low speed until creamy, scraping down the bowl with a rubber spatula as you work. Add the cream and beat on high speed until the mixture is light and smooth.

Baking

Carrot-Rosemary Scones

June 17, 2008 1 Comment

I love scones. I like sweet ones with devonshire cream and jam. I like savoury ones with a little butter.

But scones don’t seem to feel quite the same way about me.

Or maybe they sense fear.

One of the last times I remember making scones was when I was living in a small town in southern Japan. While I was the only foreigner in my community of 10,000, I was eagerly welcomed by many of the locals, including my next door neighbour who preferred to be called Susan. She was married to one of the teachers at the high school where I also taught and they had a young son. (We lived in a rather unattractive triplex — is that what a set of three townhouse-type homes is called, if a duplex means two? — that was teachers’ housing, along with the school’s vice-principal.) She was a very sweet woman who often had me over for dinner and hosted a pretty large (when one considers the relatively tiny size of her living room) dinner party when my then-boyfriend, mum and little sister came over to visit. At any rate, she signed us up for a cooking lesson with a women from the U.S. Naval base, stationed in nearby Sasebo. The subject was, of course, scones.

So, here I was, the lonely foreigner amongst a group of Japanese housewives learning to bake scones from some southern U.S. navy wife. Truly one of the stranger experiences.

Susan and I followed all of the directions faithfully, or so I believed. But our lovely little scones were nothing more than dough rocks by the time they came out of the oven. The instructor was convinced we had done something wrong (and I guess we must have), but I was so confident we had followed the recipe exactly.

I didn’t bother to attempt scones again for several years. Mostly, I suspect, because it’s one thing to bake cookies for a crowd and quite another to show up at work with a pile of scones. And also likely because deep down I harboured some anxiety that I would put in all that effort and still come out with flavoured rocks.

And then I saw a recipe for Carrot and Rosemary Scones.

I love rosemary. And carrots. And dijon mustard. And garlic. And parmesan cheese. The fact that all of these things were combined into a flaky scone was enough to jolt me out of my scone slump.

But it wasn’t going to be a breeze.

When I first attempted these, I found the mixture unbearably dry, but was nervous to add more liquid since I know making a light and fluffy scone requires some delicate baking chemistry. In the end, I did add some more cream, but it was still quite a dry dough. Once baked, the scones were still quite flat and not very brown. That’s not to say they weren’t tasty; they were. But not scone perfection.

The next time I called my mum (to whom I turn for all baking advice, her being a stellar baker and, I suspect, slightly amused by my ongoing need for guidance) and she said to not fear the addition of even more cream as the lack of liquid may have contributed to the rather flat outcome of the first attempt. Take two on the scones was slightly more successful — they were, at least, a little more golden and the dough had come together more easily — but only just. They were still flattish, though.

I sent the recipe along to my mum in advance of a visit out to Vancouver so that we could have a hands-on attempt together. (Baking, I feel, is best learned by participating at the side of an expert.) Not only did we almost double the amount of liquid, but, in the end, they still didn’t rise as much as other scone recipes. We eventually concluded the weight of the carrots was likely the culprit.

On the next attempt, I used my food processor to cut in the butter (justifying it as that I had to pull it out for grating the carrots anyway) and then added much more cream (a mixture of whipping and half-and-half because I wanted to use up the heavier cream) than originally called for. I also accidentally forgot the parmesan. So, I’m unsure which, if either, of those decisions played a role in the outcome, but these scones were beautiful.

They rose! They were tasty! They were flaky!

They still didn’t rise as much as other scone recipes; I blame it on the carrots.

While this recipe originally comes from Clotilde at Chocolate and Zucchini, I have made some adjustments. Below is the recipe as I make it.

Carrot and Rosemary Scones

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 tsp. baking powder
1 1/4 tsp. salt
9 tbsp. chilled, unsalted butter (this is a little more than 1/2 cup if that helps)
1 1/2 cups grated carrots
2 tbsp. fresh rosemary, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely minced (I use my handy rasp for this.)
2 tbsp. Dijon mustard
3/4 cup cream (whipping, half-and-half or a mixture of the two, it doesn’t really matter.)
1 cup grated parmesan (I’d go with optional for this because they were so tasty even without the cheese)

Preheat the oven to 350. In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the butter and rub it into the flour mixture with your fingers or using a pastry blender or in a food processor, if you have one. It should resemble coarse crumbs when it’s blended enough. Add the carrots, rosemary and cheese if you’re using it.

Mix together the mustard, cream and garlic (I find this distributes the garlic better, but you can also add it when you mix in the carrots) and then add to the dry ingredients. Mix together gently until the dough comes together and then empty out onto floured counter. Pat together into a ball and then roll out until the dough is about a half-inch thick. Cut out using biscuit cutter or whatever is handy. (I used a narrow drinking glass and that worked fine.)

The original recipe calls for 20 minutes in the oven. Mine baked for 17 before they were nice and golden. Cool on a rack. And then try to keep yourself from eating too many.

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it

Share it