It’s Not a Bug; It’s a Feature

Don’t you, like me, hate that moment when, in making pancakes or waffles, you mix the melted butter into the other liquid dairy products and the butter immediately seizes up? Yes, the resulting clumpy mess still works in the recipe, but it’s a dismaying sight.

What if I told you I had a recipe that not only makes that clumpy mess a good thing, but also lets you have light, crumbly, yummy biscuits with such little effort that you can add them to any working-day dinner? Or, given what is coming upon us in a matter of days, so that you can instantly have bread for your Thanksgiving table if you were so tied up with turkey wrangling that you didn’t realize until twenty minutes before eating that you forgot the rolls?

I will not say these are the best buttermilk biscuits ever, because that honor so clearly goes to Shirley Corriher’s Touch of Grace Biscuits from Cookwise that we might as well not waste time debating it. If you’ve never tried them, go out right now, do whatever you have to do to find southern self-rising flour, and make these biscuits, because they will blow your mind. (Incidentally, the first time I had them was from Shirley’s very own hand, since we happened upon her giving a cooking demonstration in Reading Terminal Market years ago when the cookbook first came out. You may envy me if you choose. I wouldn’t blame you.)

These are not as good, because they couldn’t possibly be. They do have, however, an amazingly high excellence-to-effort ratio. They come together in minutes, give you crisp edges and fluffy interiors perfect for absorbing extra butter, and you can play around to your heart’s content with adding herbs or grated cheese, or even a little extra sugar and lemon zest for a lightning-quick shortcake base.

The fact that deliberately causing clumping makes you feel like a teeny bit like a mad scientist is nothing to sneeze at either.

Buttermilk Drop Biscuits
(Adapted from America’s Test Kitchen’s Best Drop Biscuits)
Makes 1 dozen

1 cup each unbleached all-purpose and “white” whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon sugar
3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup cold buttermilk

Adjust the oven rack to the middle position, and heat the oven to 475F.

Whisk the flours, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt in large bowl.

Melt the butter and allow to cool for 5 minutes. Add in the buttermilk, stirring until the butter seizes into small clumps.

Add the buttermilk mixture to the dry ingredients and stir with a rubber spatula until just incorporated. Using an ice cream scoop or a greased 1/4-cup measuring cup, scoop the batter and drop onto the baking sheet, spacing 1 1/2 inches apart.

Bake 12-14 minutes, until golden brown and crisp on top. Transfer to wire rack and let cool 5 minutes before serving.

Notes:

The reason that clumpy butter is a good thing is that melting and resolidifying butter into little bits accomplishes the same thing cutting cold butter into flour under the traditional method does: dispersing solid fat throughout the dough creates a fluffy end product. This gets you to the same place with much less work and mess.

ATK says you can use clabbered milk if you don’t have buttermilk on hand. To make it, add 1 tablespoon lemon juice to 1 cup of milk and let it stand until it curdles, around 10 minutes.

If you really are making these for Thanksgiving, I would use 2 cups total of all-purpose flour for a holiday-appropriate, lighter biscuit instead of the half-and-half mix I prefer for a more workaday dinner or post-Thanksgiving I-should-dial-it-back recovery brunch.

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Pie Squared

When I said earlier that there’s a lot of “it’s that time of year again” in my life during the autumn months, I should have included in the list the annual pie-making ritual that is His Lordship’s birthday.

I usually spend the weeks before his birthday with my ears open for any new options, and this year I happened upon the episode of America’s Test Kitchen on apple desserts. The Skillet Apple Pie not only looked perfect but also provided a ready-made gift idea: a 12-inch oven-safe skillet, which we did not have. (I know! Kitchen equipment I don’t own! Inconceivable!)

The idea here is that the filling is pre-cooked on the stove, then covered with just a top layer of dough and baked for a much shorter-than-usual length of time. The sheer brilliance of this is that it sidesteps the double-hassle of rolling, fitting and crimping, and avoids the largely inevitable risk of a soggy and/or tough bottom crust. You also don’t have to worry about finding an oven temperature that will soften the fruit, set the liquids, bake the dough, and avoid burning or overbaking any of the components. Since the filling is already mostly cooked, you’re free to flash-bake the crust at a temperature so high that the layers of dough “EEK!” away from each other and create beautifully crispy strata.

I did have to make some important changes to the procedures to accommodate the special needs of non-hydrogenated shortening, but even so, this was as effortless as pie could ever possibly be. The outcome was, if I may say so, even better than the birthday pie I deemed perfect a couple of years ago. This one may not be quite as refined as that standard double-crust apple pie, but it has its own kind of beauty, and by every measure it was a smashing success. The apple filling was sweet and juicy, neither gummy with too much thickener nor runny with too little. The pastry was utterly perfect: flaky, tender, shatteringly crisp. His Lordship positively adored it, both the day it was baked and the next morning for breakfast.

I love the ease, speed and deliciousness of this recipe so much that the birthday apple version was followed two weeks later by a pear and cranberry version (see the notes in the recipe below). Pretty much anything that would work as a cobbler or crisp will work here, so I’ve been dreaming up zillions of other filling possibilities ever since. I just found a new source for quinces and may have some left over for pie experimentation even after making jam, and I’m also eager to try cherry and peach when summer comes back around.  Don’t be surprised if pie makes repeat appearances in the next several seasons!

Best-Ever Birthday Apple Pie
(Adapted from America’s Test Kitchen’s Skillet Apple Pie)
Serves 6-8

For crust:
1 cup (5 ounces) all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons non-hydrogenated shortening
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
3–4 tablespoons ice water

For filling:
2 1/2 pounds of various kinds of apples (about 6; see notes)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup apple cider
1/3 cup maple syrup
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

To bake:
1 egg white, lightly beaten
2 teaspoons granulated sugar

Cut the butter into 1/4 inch pieces and place into a small bowl with the shortening. Cover and refrigerate until the fats are very cold and firm, at least 20 minutes.

Place the flour, sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor, and pulse several times to combine. Add the cold fat and pulse again 10 times, until the mixture resembles crumbs. Err on the side of leaving visible pea-sized bits of butter.

Dump the flour and butter mixture into a medium bowl. Sprinkle 3 tablespoons of ice water over it and fold with a rubber spatula, pressing down gently. If the dough isn’t sticking together, add the extra tablespoon of water and fold again. Transfer the still-crumbly dough onto a large sheet of plastic wrap and press out into a small disk. Wrap tightly and refrigerate at least 1 hour, and preferably overnight.

Fill a large bowl with cold water, and squeeze in some lemon juice. Peel and core the apples, and cut them into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Place the peeled slices in the acidulated water to keep them from browning while you’re working on the rest.

Heat the butter in a 12-inch oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. Lift the apples out of the water and toss into the pan. Stir infrequently until they’re starting to caramelize but not cooked all the way through, about 5-7 minutes, then turn off the heat. Whisk together the cider, maple syrup, lemon juice, cornstarch and cinnamon and pour over the apples, stirring gently to coat. Set aside to cool while you’re rolling out the pastry.

Adjust the oven rack to the upper-middle position and preheat to 500F. While the oven is heating, roll out the dough to an 11-inch circle between layers of plastic wrap or parchment paper. Transfer the dough to a large cookie sheet, still encased in the plastic or parchment, and place in the freezer for the last few minutes of the preheating to re-chill the shortening.

When the oven is hot, peel the top layer of plastic or parchment off the pastry, flip the dough gently onto the apple filling in the skillet, and peel off the second layer. Fold under or trim off any edges that are hanging over the sides, brush the top with the egg white, and sprinkle evenly with the sugar. With a sharp knife or pizza cutter, cut the dough into six quadrants (once down the middle, and twice across). Bake until the crust is a deep golden brown, 20-25 minutes.

Let cool 15 minutes before serving warm with vanilla ice cream.

Notes:

ATK said to combine sweet and tart varieties, so I used equal amounts of Macoun, Empire, Jonagold and Cortland. Using apples with different characteristics gives you a more complex apple flavor and ensures that some apples will stay firm while others are almost applesauce-soft and add more body to the filling.

I use an apple corer/divider to segment the apples, which gives me eight wedges that can each be halved to get the perfect thickness.

Non-hydrogenated shortening can be found at health food stores and some bigger supermarkets. If you can’t find it and have to resort to regular shortening, you can skip the freezer step since it’s more forgiving of abuse.

If you don’t have an oven-safe skillet, the filling can be spooned into a shallow casserole or 9×13 Pyrex dish before being covered with the dough.

For the cranberry-pear variation, substitute pears for the apples and add one cup of cranberries plus 1/3 cup of sugar and the maple syrup once the pears have begun to soften up. Cook until the cranberries are just starting to pop, but be sure to turn off the heat while at least a few are still intact. Before you add the cider and thickener (I left out the cinnamon, but it’s your call), taste the filling and add a little bit more sugar if it’s still too tart. Proceed as usual with the recipe.

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Don’t Underestimate Your Audience

Not your garden-variety carrot cake

I must confess that this entry in the weekly baking series had me a little nervous, and I even considered lying by omission with respect to one of the key ingredients when I brought it into work on Monday. I mean, I’m a massive fan of the lowly parsnip and consider it utterly inoffensive, but I know people can have weird knee-jerk reactions when it comes to vegetables, especially in baked goods. I’ve known people to freak out over plain old zucchini bread.

But I obviously worried over absolutely nothing, because I can’t even adequately describe what a huge hit this was with the coworkers. The “parsnip” prominently displayed on the accompanying Post-It note doesn’t seem to have deterred anyone, and people were gushing and demanding the recipe for days after. And who could blame them, when these muffins are so fantastically spicy, chewy, sweet and moist that the cream cheese frosting I offered on the side really was viewed as superfluous?

So what possessed me to mix parsnips into a carrot cake recipe in the first place? It was a lucky impulse born of nostalgia and facilitated by the fact that, just as I do with cranberries, I hoard parsnips this time of year. They start showing up in supermarkets right before the holidays before disappearing rapidly again in January. Don’t ask me why, since I think they’re lovely even after Christmas has passed, but produce buyers can be short-sighted that way.

I had been intending to make carrot cake for the past month or so, since our anniversary. My prior love of carrot cake for its own sake was amplified when it unexpectedly became our wedding cake thanks to the very obliging host of the B&B His Lordship and I had eloped to. We hadn’t planned on having one and had in fact gone all-out at dinner, but were surprised and touched when we got back to our room and found the prettily decorated top tier of her friends’ anniversary cake, which the host had brought home for us from their party. It made a great breakfast the next morning, and ever since I’ve had a special craving for carrot cake this time of year.

While I was pulling the carrots out of the vegetable bin, I saw the parsnips and thought what the heck. Parsnips are practically the same as carrots anyway, and although they’re pretty rare, I had heard of parsnip cakes before. Just to play it safe, I went with a 50-50 ratio and added the resulting shred to my favorite carrot cake recipe, which is already fabulously easy and delectable.

Do you notice the parsnips? Well, not unless you really concentrate. They’re so pale that they disappear into their speckled surroundings once baked, and all you see are the sturdier carrots. If you focus, you can taste their distinctively spicy sweetness behind the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, but the non-cognoscenti could just as easily assume that was a pinch of cardamom or ginger instead. If you’re really skittish about the parsnip thing, or want to try this in May when there’s nary a parsnip to be found, you can make it with all carrots instead, and I promise you’ll love them just as much.

If you do fancy an adventure or want to sneak some additional variety into your kids’ or your coworkers’ diets, though, try this out! It’s fun, and who says you shouldn’t play with your food?

Carrot-Parsnip Spice Muffins
(Adapted from Carrot Cake in America’s Test Kitchen’s The New Best Recipe)
Makes 2-3 dozen muffins

1 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup “white” whole wheat flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1 1/2 cups grated carrots (about 3 medium)
1 1/2 cups grated parsnips (about 3 medium)
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cups canola or grapeseed oil

For the frosting (seriously optional):

8 ounces softened cream cheese
5 tablespoons softened unsalted butter
1 tablespoon sour cream
1/4 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup confectioner’s sugar

Adjust the oven rack to the middle position and preheat oven to 350F. Line 2-3 muffin tins with paper liners.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flours, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spices.

Combine the sugars and eggs in a food processor fitted with the metal blade and process until the brown sugar has completely broken up and distributed throughout, about 30 seconds. With the machine running, add the oil through the feed tube in a steady stream, and continue processing until the mixture is light in color and resembles mayonnaise.

Add the liquid mixture to the dry ingredients and fold until the flour is mostly incorporated, then fold in the carrots and parsnips.

Fill the tins with the batter half to two-thirds full, depending on how many muffins you would like to end up with and how ample their tops. Bake until a skewer inserted into a muffin comes out clean, 25-28 minutes. Cool the muffins completely in their tins.

In a food processor, combine the cream cheese, butter, sour cream, honey and vanilla. Process until well combined, then add the powdered sugar and continue processing until smooth. If the frosting is not sweet enough, add a bit more honey and pulse again.

Ice the cooled muffins with the frosting, or serve the frosting alongside as a spread. Unfrosted muffins will keep at room temperature for a day, but frosted ones and any leftover frosting should be covered and refrigerated.

Notes:

If it seems as though I’m using a lot of this “white” whole wheat flour, which is made by King Arthur and a few other vendors, it’s because I really love the stuff. Not only is it a snap to swap out some of the white flour in a recipe and add some extra nutrition value without any textural harm at all, but the extra wheatiness really plays well in recipes with a lot of spice, like this one. If you don’t want to go that route, simply use 2 1/2 total cups of all-purpose flour instead.

I didn’t want any embellishments this time, but if you’re a fan of walnuts and/or raisins in your carrot cake (I like the former but can seriously leave the latter), you could stir in 1 to 1 1/2 cups of either or both along with the carrots and parsnips.  In that case, you will probably also have to add at least 5 more minutes to the baking time.

In the future, I may try making this entirely with parsnips. If it’s a success, I’ll definitely report back.

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