My loss, your gain

I’ve been dithering for years about entering the Scharffen Berger annual chocolate adventure contest, never quite pulling the trigger until finally, this winter, I got myself together enough to do some testing and submit something.  I have to admit I didn’t love this year’s theme of sandwich cookies, but I went for it anyway, never really expecting I had a chance.  And, of course, I didn’t, because I didn’t even get an honorable mention.

But my loss, as the title says, is your gain, because I already have the pictures taken and the recipe written up, and since Scharffen Berger has no further claim on it, you all can have it instead.  The point of the contest, besides using their chocolate, is to incorporate at least one “adventure ingredient”, which this year included coconut milk or coconut cream, sweet potato, tapioca or tapioca flour, tequila, banana, chili pepper, pine nuts, corn meal, Sumatra coffee, fresh ginger, yerba mate tea, and cacao nibs.

I ended up using coffee and coconut milk in a sandwich of coffee-flavored shortbread rounds, rolled in coconut and pressed around a coconut milk and milk chocolate ganache spiked with coconut rum.  They’re good, but apparently not good enough. Oh, well. Maybe next year.

Coconut Mocha Buttons
Makes approximately 3 dozen cookies

For coffee shortbread:

2 tablespoons coffee liqueur
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons finely ground Sumatra coffee
1 tablespoon instant coffee
8 ounces (16 tablespoons) cold, unsalted European-style butter, cut into tablespoon-sized cubes
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
6 tablespoons cornstarch
Unsweetened, finely shredded coconut for rolling

For coconut milk chocolate ganache:

8 ounces Scharffen Berger Extra Rich Milk Chocolate, finely chopped
4 ounces (1/2 cup) coconut milk (not low-fat)
1 tablespoon unsalted European-style butter
1/8 teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons coconut rum

Combine the coffee liqueur, vanilla extract, Sumatra coffee and instant coffee in a small bowl.  Allow to sit for 5 minutes.

In a food processor, blend the butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar and salt until a fluffy paste forms.  Scrape down the bowl and add the coffee mixture, processing again until fully incorporated.  Whisk the flour and cornstarch together in a medium bowl and add to the creamed butter, pulsing just until a ball of dough begins to form around the blade.

Divide the dough in half and shape the first half into a roll 1 1/2 to 2 inches in diameter on a sheet of parchment paper.  Sprinkle several tablespoons of coconut along the edge of the cookie dough and roll it through the coconut until fully coated.  Tightly wrap the roll in the parchment paper, repeat the process with the second half of the dough, and chill the wrapped rolls until very firm, 2 hours to overnight.  (The dough can also be further wrapped in plastic or a zip-top freezer bag and frozen up to a month.)

While the dough is resting, prepare and chill the ganache filling.  Place the chopped chocolate in a medium mixing bowl.  Combine the coconut milk, butter and salt in a liquid measuring cup and microwave just until simmering.  Pour the hot coconut milk over the chocolate and whisk until the chocolate is fully melted and the ganache is glossy, then whisk in the coconut rum.  Allow to cool to room temperature, then cover and refrigerate until ready to assemble the cookies.

Preheat oven to 325 F and line several baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.  Remove one roll from the refrigerator and, using a sharp knife, slice off rounds 1/8 inch thick, rotating the roll a quarter turn between slices to preserve its round shape.  Place cookies 2 inches apart on the baking sheets and bake until the coconut is golden and the bottoms of the cookies are just beginning to darken, 12-15 minutes.  Remove cookies to a wire rack to cool completely, and repeat with the second roll.

When the cookies have cooled and the ganache has firmed up, place 2 teaspoons of ganache on the bottom of one cookie and place a second cookie right-side up over the filling, gently pressing down just until the filling reaches the edges.  Repeat with remaining cookies.  If not serving immediately, store cookies in refrigerator for up to a week.  Leftover unfilled shortbread keeps very well in an airtight container at room temperature for several weeks.

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The Christmassiest Damn Thing I’ve Ever Baked

That’s a provocative statement, I know, but what else are you going to call a buttery coffee cake pierced by a bright red layer of cranberries and sprinkled with a cinnamony walnut streusel?  It practically screams “Ho ho ho!” at you, and on top of being so blatantly festive visually, it’s also pretty quick and easy to put together and feeds an entire phalanx of revelers.

As a bonus, the cranberry filling drains off about a cup or so of a stunningly crimson, sweet-tart syrup that can be mixed into your favorite punch or cranberry cocktail recipe, or mixed with iced tea if your occasion isn’t quite so adult.

Cake and drinks should get you all through First Night and whatever lentil recipe I come up with for 2013, right?

Cranberry-Walnut Coffee Cake
Serves an entire party (16-24 depending on slicing)

For filling and topping:
1 bag fresh or frozen cranberries
1/3 cup granulated sugar

1 cup walnuts, chopped medium-fine
2/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cinnamon
6 tablespoons melted unsalted butter

For cake:
3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon sea salt
4 large eggs
2 cups granulated sugar
¾ cups buttermilk
4 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted
¼ cup walnut oil

Pulse the cranberries and 1/3 cup sugar in a food processor just until finely chopped, being careful not to carry it over into a puree.  Set a fine-meshed strainer over a large liquid measuring cup and scrape in the cranberries, and allow them to drain for 15 minutes.

In a medium bowl, stir together the walnuts, sugar, cinnamon and melted butter.  Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350 F and line a 9 x 13 rectangular cake pan with parchment paper, leaving a slight overhang to help you lift the cake out later.

Whisk together the dry ingredients for the cake in a medium bowl.  Do the same in a glass measuring cup with the buttermilk, melted butter, walnut oil and vanilla extract.  In a large bowl, beat the sugar and eggs together until frothy.  Add the dry and wet mixtures in two additions each, starting with the flour, and stirring just until mixed before the next addition.

Stir a third of the walnut streusel mixture into the drained cranberries, reserving the cranberry syrup for later use.  Spread half the cake batter into the prepared pan, then sprinkle in the cranberry filling, leaving a clean ½ inch border of batter all around the edge.  Smooth the remaining batter over the top, and sprinkle the top with the rest of the walnut streusel.

Bake for 45 minutes, or until the top is golden and springy to the touch and a tester inserted through the cake comes out clean except for any clinging bits of cranberry filling.  Cool the cake completely in its pan on a wire rack, then lift it out using the parchment overhang.  Use a serrated knife to divide into slices 1 to 1 ½ inch thick or slightly bigger squares.

Notes:

If you don’t have a party to take this to, you can halve the recipe, although in my opinion you might as well make the whole thing and freeze the leftover slices, tightly wrapped in plastic wrap in bundles of two slices and then placed in a zip-top bag.  They defrost with just a quick 30-second zap in the microwave, supplying you with instant cake straight through the post-holiday doldrums.

If you don’t have walnut oil, you can just substitute an additional ½ stick of melted butter.  In that case, you could swap out the walnuts for pecans, if you prefer.

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This Year’s Birthday Pie

I think, as of this year, I can safely say I’ve covered the whole universe of apple pie. I’ve done all manner of tarts, tatins, single-crust pies, and traditional double-crust pies, and now I can add fried pies, which was His Lordship’s birthday request this time around.

Because no fried apple pie recipe had every quality I was looking for, I mashed together and made further changes to this recipe for the pastry and Shirley Corriher’s recipe in Cookwise for an apple pie in which the filling, top and bottom crusts are all cooked separately and assembled at the last minute to keep the pastry from going soggy. I mixed the apples (Stayman, Cortland, York and Honeycrisp) for a nice balance of sweetness and tartness, and a blend of firm pieces and almost-melting ones. To further bump up the apple flavor, I used a blend of apple cider and Calvados in the filling.

The resulting pies are really good, blisteringly crisp outside and oozy-apple-y inside, although I’m not going to kid you; they’re a fair amount of work and not remotely speedy to prepare. Still, once a year, you might as well really do it up right, right?

Fried Apple Pies
Makes 7-8 individual pies

For the dough:

2 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¾ teaspoon sea salt
3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, in ½ inch cubes
3 tablespoons very cold non-hydrogenated vegetable shortening, in lumps the same size as the butter
1 egg, lightly beaten
Ice water

For the filling:

5 medium apples, preferably a mix of pie varieties
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ cup apple cider
2 tablespoons Calvados
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
6 tablespoons granulated sugar
6 tablespoons light brown sugar
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
¼ teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons cornstarch dissolved in 3 tablespoons apple cider

Oil for frying
Confectioner’s sugar for dusting

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add the butter and shortening and work with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Whisk the egg with ¼ cup of the ice water, sprinkle over the dry ingredients, and stir gently until fully incorporated. Add more water as necessary until the dough holds together, kneading a few times in the bowl to be sure. Divide the pastry in half, press into disks, and wrap tightly in plastic wrap or in zip-top bags. Chill at least one hour.

Peel the apples and divide into segments with an apple corer/slicer. Further chop each segment into ½ inch chunks.

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat and sauté the apples 2-3 minutes, stirring gently with a heatproof spatula. Add the ¼ cup cider, Calvados and vanilla and cook 1 minute longer before adding in the sugars, spices and salt. Simmer the apples until starting to become tender but not mushy, 5 or so minutes more. Add the cornstarch mixture and continue simmering until the juices have thickened. Cool the filling completely and refrigerate until ready to assemble the pies.

Roll a disk of the pastry on a lightly floured surface to a thickness of about a quarter inch. Cut six-inch circles from the dough, laying the circles in a single layer onto parchment-lined baking sheets. Refrigerate until firmed up again.

Place two heaping spoonfuls of the apple filling in the center of a pastry circle. Brush the edges with water, fold in half, and pinch to seal closed, pushing out any air as you go along. Place the filled pie back on the parchment-lined sheet and crimp the edges with a fork. Repeat with remaining circles. Chill again, until the pastry is cold and the pies are easily picked up.

Heat 2 inches of oil in a heavy, high-sided pot to 360 F. Fry two to three pies at a time, turning once, until well browned. Drain on a rack set over a baking sheet until cool enough to handle. Dust with confectioner’s sugar before serving.

Notes:

Don’t be tempted to skip the re-chilling steps with the pastry, because the non-hydrogenated shortening really needs to be kept as cold as possible or it will be too floppy to handle easily.

There will be both extra filling and dough scraps. You can re-roll the scraps for more pies, although the second batch will be tougher so I don’t bother. The leftover filling is a nice topping for waffles or pancakes, or can be served as a compote with yogurt.

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You Can Keep Your Oreos

Well, hello there, strangers.  Long time no see!

While I was off in my start-of-the-year teaching crunch, which left me no evenings or weekends free to blog, I understand we had the 100th anniversary of America’s favorite sandwich cookie.  I can appreciate the basic charms of the Oreo as much as anybody, and when I was a teenager in Mexico I was obsessed with them, because this everyday All-American snack couldn’t be had by anyone not affiliated with the US Embassy and thus, they were the perfect symbol for my expatriate adolescent angst. I would insist on my father bringing as many packages as he could from his business trips back to the home office, just so I could feel “normal” for the few days they lasted.

But that phase is mercifully in my past now, and as a grown-up I can also look critically at the little hockey pucks and acknowledge the fact that they’re not really all they’re cracked up to be, which is why I’m going to make up for my latest intermittent silence with a recipe for what I think is the best sandwich cookie in the world.

Alfajores are to Argentina what the chocolate chip cookie is to the U.S.  They’re ubiquitous and can be found in iterations from the mass-produced, individually-wrapped Hostess-equivalent kinds purchasable at the convenience store to the high-end boutique variety in beribboned boxes. When I was growing up and into my adulthood, every relative who visited was expected to bring us at least one box of my personal favorite brand. (Are we sensing a theme about international cookie commissioning by me as a kid?  I was way ahead of the curve on free trade.)

So what are alfajores?  Well, besides being sadly unknown in this hemisphere, confusing to pronounce (all-fah-hor-es) and what I think should replace the macaron as the next fad, they’re shortbready disks faintly hinting at lemon pressed around a layer of dulce de leche, although you can also find fruit-filled ones.  The commercial kind are generally enrobed in either a crackly, powdery sugar glaze or a smooth semisweet chocolate one, which is wonderful but way too much bother for home baking.  Home bakers instead make an easier but no less delicious version in which the cookies, made with cornstarch (the maizena of the name below) for a perfectly delicate crumb, are filled and rolled in coconut to keep the dulce de leche from sticking to your fingers.

Like the Oreo, this is one of those things that sounds too basic to be all that great, but is actually dangerously addictive instead.  The cookies are buttery and tender and neither too oily nor too soft, the dulce de leche adds just the right amount of sweetness to the not-very-sweet cookies, the hint of citrus makes everything sparkle just the tiniest bit, and it all just really, really works.

If you absolutely insist on chocolate in your sandwich cookies, I still have you covered, because not having enough regular dulce de leche on hand, I made part of the batch with chocolate dulce de leche I picked up on sale at the local Whole Paycheck.  Personally, I remain unconvinced by the chocolate kind, which tastes generically fudgy to me and lacks the lovely milky, caramely flavor I think dulce de leche really ought to put front and center in order to live up to the name.  Man, did my coworkers disagree with me, though, because the chocolate ones were by far the favorites and were gone in a blink.

I also filled some with the hurricane plum jam I previously posted about, which worked so splendidly that I hoarded them at home and took none to work. If you use jam, be sure to use a very firm one so that the cookies don’t ooze apart.  You may need to cook it down a bit if what you have is too runny.

However you fill them, seriously, you have to try these.  The minute you do, I know you too will recognize their undeniable awesomeness.

Alfajores de Maizena
Makes about five dozen small cookies, or 2-3 dozen larger ones

For cookies:
1 ½ cups (200 grams) unbleached all-purpose flour
2 ½ cups (300 grams) cornstarch
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon sea salt
14 tablespoons (200 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¾ cup (150 grams) granulated sugar
3 large egg yolks
1 tablespoon brandy
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Zest of one medium lemon

For assembly:
One 16-ounce jar dulce de leche or very thick jam
1 cup shredded unsweetened coconut

Preheat oven to 350 F and line three baking sheets with parchment paper.

Sift the flour, cornstarch, baking powder, baking soda and salt through a fine sieve twice, the second time onto a large sheet of parchment or wax paper for easy transfer, and set aside.

In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream together the butter and sugar.  Add the yolks one at a time, scraping down between additions. Beat in the brandy, vanilla and lemon zest.

Add the dry ingredients in three batches at low speed, mixing until just combined.  Turn onto a Silpat or the reserved parchment sheet that held the dry ingredients, and gently roll to a thickness of about a quarter of an inch or half a centimeter for thinner cookies, and double that for slightly puffier ones.  (Dust the rolling pin with cornstarch if sticking starts to occur.)

Cut the dough with 1½ to 2-inch diameter round cutters, being as careful as you can to minimize the waste.  Use a bench scraper or spatula to transfer the cookies to the baking sheets, spacing about an inch apart.  Gently pull the scraps together and re-roll to use up all the dough.

Bake the cookies just until firm and barely gold on the bottom.  Do not allow to brown on the top or sides.  Remove to a cooling rack immediately and cool completely.

Once the cookies have cooled, form sandwiches by spreading a teaspoonful of dulce de leche or jam onto the bottom of one cookie, and covering with a second. Squeeze gently, just enough to push the filling out to the edges of the cookies.  Place the coconut in a small, shallow container and roll the edges of the cookies in the coconut to evenly coat the exposed filling.

Store the filled cookies in an airtight container, and consume within the next day or two.

Notes:

Because of the very high proportion of cornstarch to flour, the dough is much more resilient on re-rolling than standard dough, but it’s still a good idea to treat it gently to ensure tender cookies.

This is my mom’s recipe, by the way.  I just did the conversions from metric and put back the coconut, which she hates.  Thanks, Mom!

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Tropical Splendor

We’ve already established that I’m frequently overly ambitious on a rainy Sunday, and sometimes I’m just stupidly excessive.  This cake is the product of one of those stupidly excessive times, or perhaps two of those times, if you count the fact that I put up the mango butter that ended up as cake filling on a similar Sunday about two months earlier.

I’d been thinking for quite a long time about combining cashews and mangoes in a cake, since mangoes and cashews are close botanical relations and natural partners the same way almonds and apricots are. It’s so logical to pair them that I was really rather surprised at the dearth of cake recipes featuring them when I went a-Googling. There seem to be a lot of cashew-mango cheesecake and upside down cake recipes, but I actually rather dislike cheesecake (shocking that there’s cake I don’t like, I know) and wanted a proper layer cake for my Sunday afternoon tea.  Since I couldn’t find what I wanted, I decided to adapt the recipe for almond cake that ended up as my birthday cupcakes last year.

I was, I have to admit, a wee bit apprehensive about how the cake would turn out, given that cashews are higher in fat and waxier than almonds.  I was worried they might behave weirdly in the cake and make it dense or grainy, but it turns out I had no cause for concern.  The cashews melted right into the batter and the baked cake was just as wonderfully tender as it was with almonds.  I even think the extra richness of the cashews might have slightly bumped up the butteriness of the cake, which, as I suspected, went beautifully with the brightness of the mango butter.  To keep things really simple, I iced the cake with a very plain powdered sugar icing with just a hint of lime, and I covered the top with some more roasted, chopped cashews.

I made a huge rectangular cake because I have a largish workplace and have to make sure everyone gets their Monday treat, but you could cut all the quantities in half and make a 9-inch round cake for your tea party. Earl or Lady Grey would work especially well given the citrusy undertones of the mango butter, but any kind of tea should be lovely with this cake.

If you’re in an even more stupidly excessive mood and more inclined to fancy decorating than I ever am, I’d venture to say that this would make quite a lovely and unusual wedding or other special-occasion cake.  You could even go full-bore tropical by incorporating coconut into the buttercream or fondant and surrounding the layers with white or pale yellow orchid blossoms.

Cashew Layer Cake with Mango Butter Filling
(Adapted from Rose Levy Berenbaum, The Cake Bible)
Serves a large party (at least 24)

For the cake:

1 cup roasted unsalted cashews
2 tablespoons granulated sugar

3 ⅓ cups sifted cake flour
2 cups granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon fine sea salt
4 large eggs, at room temperature
1 ⅓ cup sour cream, at room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
24 tablespoons (3 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

For assembly:

2 cups mango butter (see notes)
2 cups powdered sugar
Juice of half a lime
2 tablespoons hot water
1 cup roasted unsalted cashews, coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Butter a 9 x 13 rectangular cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper, then re-butter and flour the pan.

In a food processor, pulse 1 cup of cashews with 2 tablespoons sugar until finely ground, but be sure not to process so long it turns into cashew butter.  Measure out ⅔ cup plus 1 tablespoon of the ground cashews and reserve the rest for decorating the cake.

In a large glass measuring cup, whisk together the eggs, vanilla extract, and ⅓ cup of the sour cream.

In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the flour, ⅔ cup plus 1 tablespoon ground cashews, 2 cups sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt.  Briefly mix on low to blend the dry ingredients.  Add the butter and remaining sour cream and mix on low until combined, then increase the speed to medium and beat for 1 ½ minutes to lighten the batter.  Scrape down the sides and add the egg mixture in 3 additions, scraping the sides and beating for 20 seconds between each one.

Spread the batter evenly in the pan, flattening the top.  Bake for 45-50 minutes, until the top is lightly springy and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.  Cool in the pan for 10 minutes and then invert onto a rack to cool completely, pulling off the parchment.

Once the cake is cool, split into two layers with a serrated knife. Carefully slide off the top half and spread the exposed lower half evenly with the mango butter.  Replace the top half, making sure the edges line up properly, and smooth out any of the filling that dribbles out the sides.

Whisk the powdered sugar, lime juice and water in a medium bowl until a thick paste forms.  Place the bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and continue whisking until the icing warms up and the sugar has dissolved completely, about 1 minute.  Immediately spread the icing in a smooth layer over the top of the cake, and sprinkle first with the reserved ground cashews and then with the chopped cashews.  Gently press down a bit to cement the cashews into the icing.

Let the cake sit for 15 or so minutes for the icing to firm up, and then slice with a serrated knife to serve, wiping the cake crumbs and mango filling off the knife between cuts for clean slices.

The cake should keep well for about a day at room temperature. To keep it longer, tightly wrap the filled but not iced cake in plastic and refrigerate or freeze, decorating it shortly before serving.

Notes:

To make a normal-sized cake for 8-12, cut all quantities in half and bake the batter in a 9-inch round or springform pan for 35-45 minutes. It could also be divided among lined cupcake tins for about two dozen cupcakes.

If you don’t have pre-roasted cashews, spread 2 cups raw cashews on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 for 10-15 minutes, until evenly dark gold, checking often to avoid burning.  Cool completely before grinding half of it with the 2 tablespoons sugar in the food processor.

I made my own mango butter shortly before I made the hurricane plum jam, because I had half a case of them getting ready to turn when I got back from a weekend trip.  It would be far more sensible for you to use store-bought, but I’d suggest adding about ¼ teaspoon of ground cardamom and the juice of an orange to the butter and gently heating it until the dusty raw cardamom flavor cooks out and the extra liquid evaporates.  If you’re not a mango fan, apricot or peach butter would also go quite nicely with the cashew cake and give you the same pretty color contrast.

In case you’re wondering, the reason to bother with the whole double boiler business with the powdered sugar icing is that it helps it set up quickly.  If you just mixed in the liquid and poured it over the cake, it would flow right down the sides after barely covering the top, not leaving you enough structure to embed the cashews in afterward.  Because it does set up VERY quickly, be sure to have the cashews at hand for pressing into the top when you start to spread the icing. If you don’t want the hassle at all, the cake is still yummy, if slightly less pretty and more mildly cashew-flavored, without the decoration.

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The Last of the Hurricane Posts

This is the third and final post about how I cooked my way through the hurricane.  While it’s been good for my blogging productivity, let’s hope there are no more natural disaster-induced motivators, hmm?

Anyway, having survived Irene basically unscathed, I found myself with far more time than I expected the day after.  So I baked, but just because I had the time doesn’t mean I had the inclination to pull out all the baking stops and do something stupidly “Thank God, we’re alive!” manic like eclairs (though I did make eclairs during the blogging hiatus, because there is, in fact, a correct time and place for stupidly manic cooking).  I just wanted something comforting, low on the effort scale, and, since I didn’t know if commuter rail was going to be back up in time for me to go to work on Monday morning, capable of keeping an extra day if necessary.  What fit that particular bill excellently was gingerbread.

As we all know, my quest for ever more obnoxiously in-your-face gingery things is a lifelong one, and in that quest, I had tried the Classic Gingerbread Cake recipe in this January’s issue of Cook’s Illustrated. Apart from the bordering-on-foolhardy quantities of both fresh and powdered ginger, the recipe had two other things going for it: the clever use of stout to deepen the flavor, and the promise of eliminating the sunken and damp middle gingerbread is so often prone to. The recipe delivered on both intense gingery flavor and structural soundness, and was particularly well-received by the coworkers, who as we’ve established are surprisingly amenable to having their palates challenged via their weekly baked goods.

The one snag was that I had no stout on hand, and because I live in a state with patently absurd liquor laws and was not going to make a special trip to the beer distributor on the day after a hurricane to buy stout by the full case, I had to substitute what I did have: a nice hard cider.  To make up the required volume and add some more depth, I spiked it with some really spectacular rum we picked up on our now-annual summer jaunt to the Berkshires with His Lordship’s community orchestra. Despite the fact that the CI people said it wasn’t worth making the recipe with anything but stout, I noticed no dumbing down of the cake once baked.  The cider, rum and very dark blackstrap molasses I had in the pantry contributed more than enough low notes to support the double-ginger assault.  Honestly, I think it’s just as good with the substitution, and since we have not much use for stout while I adore hard cider, I’ll be going with this combination from now on.

For ease of distribution, as usual with Monday treats, I converted the recipe to cupcakes, which I spread with a cream cheese and lemon curd frosting. The frosting is seriously optional, and if it were up to His Lordship there would be no question about leaving it off, since he didn’t care for the additional sourness.  For those of you who are similarly less obsessed about citrus than I am, feel free to eat them plain or with a dab of salted butter for just the merest bit of decadence.

Gingerbread Cupcakes with Lemon Curd Frosting
(Adapted from Classic Gingerbread Cake, Cook’s Illustrated, January/February 2011)
Makes 30 cupcakes

For the gingerbread:
3 cups all-purpose flour
4 tablespoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon sea salt
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 bottle (11.2 ounces) hard cider plus enough dark rum to make 1 ½ cups
1 teaspoon baking soda
⅔ cup blackstrap molasses
⅔ cup honey
1 ½ cups packed light brown sugar
½ cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs
⅔ cup canola oil
2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger

For the frosting (utterly optional):
4 ounces (half a block) of cream cheese, at room temperature
4 tablespoons butter, at room temperature
½ powdered sugar
2 pinches sea salt
Half a (10.5 ounce) jar of lemon curd, or more to taste

Whisk together flour, ginger, baking powder, salt, cinnamon and black pepper in a large bowl and set aside.

Bring the cider and rum to a boil in a small pan over medium heat.  In the meantime, set the oven rack to the middle position, preheat the oven to 350 F and line 2 ½ muffin trays with cupcake liners.

Pour the hot cider and rum into a medium bowl and stir in the baking soda, which will foam up aggressively, then stir in the molasses, honey, and sugars.  Once the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is a bit cooler, whisk in the eggs, oil and grated ginger.

Add the wet mixture into the dry ingredients a third at a time, whisking vigorously between additions until completely smooth before adding the next third.  (For once, you need not be afraid of over-mixing.)  The batter will be quite liquid after the final addition, so use a ladle to divide it evenly among the lined muffin cups.

Tap the filled muffin trays gently against the counter a couple of times to release any air bubbles, and bake 25-30 minutes, until the tops are firm to the touch and a tester comes out mostly clean.  Cool briefly in their tins before lifting out by the liners onto a wire rack and cooling completely.

While the cupcakes are cooling, beat the cream cheese, butter, powdered sugar and salt together in a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment until light.  Beat in the lemon curd and taste, adding more if you want a more pronounced lemon flavor.  Spread the frosting thinly over the cooled cupcakes.

Unfrosted cupcakes will keep for several days at room temperature in an airtight container.  Once frosted, they really should be refrigerated, though you should bring them back to room temperature before serving since the chill will blunt some of the spicy kick.

Notes:

I could have stretched the batter among three full muffin tins, yielding 36 cupcakes, but they would have been slightly smaller than I wanted.  If you prefer that many, start checking them at 20 minutes for doneness. If you want to make a large sheet cake instead, pour the batter into a 9×13 pan, greased and floured, and bake 35-45 minutes.  Cool completely in the pan before frosting and slicing.

The quantity of frosting here is just enough to thinly cover the full batch of cupcakes.  If you want to be much more generous or to pipe designs with it, double the quantities.

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I’m Still Here

I know it’s been forever, and I will detail some of the reasons why at the end of this post.  Those reasons having come to a satisfactory conclusion about a month ago, I’d basically been dithering about for a few weeks, looking for the right theme and recipe for finally breaking the silence, and then the East Coast experienced an epically ridiculous confluence of events (an earthquake AND a hurricane in the same week?  Seriously, Universe? Seriously?) that presented me with the perfect solution.

I mean, once all the flashlight batteries have been replaced, the patio furniture has been brought inside, and the hatches have been battened as far down as they’re going to go, there’s really only one thing you can do, right?

Make jam.

Now, stay with me here: Jam is shelf-stable, so it doesn’t matter if the power goes out.  It uses up fruit that would just speed up its sitting-around-getting-squishy process without refrigeration. It goes excellently with all the classic natural disaster foods: ice cream that needs to be consumed immediately, peanut butter sandwiches eaten by candlelight, and, of course, French toast the next morning.  Not to mention, it keeps your mind off the impending doom, and gives you the sense that at least one thing is under your control despite the increasingly hysterical news coverage.

See?  It makes total sense.

Since plums were the fruit preparing to give up the ghost in my crisper, that’s the kind of jam I made.  Plums are an excellent jam candidate, since the skins are often too acidic and leathery while the interior flesh can be squishy in texture and unexciting in flavor.  Cook them down with a few spices, though, and they make really stunning amethyst-colored jam the likes of which you can’t find in a store for less than $8 a jar, so you shouldn’t actually need meteorological insanity to nudge you to try this recipe.

I also made a huge pot of black bean soup to pass the time waiting for the basement to flood, and I will write that up next. As for what’s been occupying me for the past six months and kept me off the blogosphere until Irene gave me the kick in the pants….

Well, just after the holidays I taught my first seminar, which was an amazingly rewarding experience but also one of the most intellectually and physically tiring things I’ve ever done.  NaNoWriMo is a walk in the park compared to that, let me tell you.  I don’t think I enjoyed a full night’s sleep until Easter, and I needed about a month to get my energy back afterward.

I didn’t get it, though, because — and this is of more pressing relevance to you all — at the same time, His Lordship and I were in the process of shopping for a house.  It was a confusing, stressful, nerve-wracking time, but we did finally end our long reign of renting at the beginning of the summer, and now have a proper Chez Disdain.  The new manse needs a fair amount of work, so I may well be grumbling about contractors and repair people for some time to come, but the one thing I can’t really complain about is the kitchen, which is fab.  I’ll provide more details and some pictures along with the black bean soup recipe, but for now, here’s just a wee bit of a tease:

Know what that is, my little chickadees?  Need a close-up (kindly overlooking the obvious need to clean, if you would)?

That’s right, a Viking range.  SCORE!

Oh, and in case it wasn’t self-evident from my reappearance, His Lordship, the Monster and I made it through the eye of the hurricane with minimal trauma; just a bit of basement flooding that was dispatched with a few rounds of wet/dry vacuuming and mopping. Now, on to the jam!

Hurricane Preparedness Plum Jam
Makes 3 cups

1 1/2 pounds plums, halved and pitted
Zest and juice of 2 clementines or 1 orange
2/3 cup water
1 vanilla bean, split
2 large slices candied ginger
1/2 small cinnamon stick
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
Juice of half a lemon

Place the plums in a heavy medium pan with the clementine zest and juice, water, vanilla, ginger and cinnamon stick and bring to a boil over medium heat.  Cover, lower the heat to a simmer, and cook until the plums are very soft and starting to break up, about 20 minutes.  Cool to room temperature.

While the plums are cooling, clean and sterilize about half a dozen 4-ounce jam jars with their rings and lids, along with any other equipment you feel you need for the preserving process (e.g. a ladle, a wide-mouthed funnel and long-handled tongs).

Remove the cinnamon stick, vanilla bean and ginger slices from the fruit.  Run the plums through a food mill or push it through a sieve into a large measuring cup.

Return the pureed plums to the pot, along with the sugar and lemon juice. Stir over medium-low heat until the sugar dissolves, then increase the heat to medium to bring the jam to a boil.  Continue cooking at a low boil, stirring frequently, until it’s thickened and holds its shape when spooned onto a chilled plate, 20-25 minutes.

Transfer the jam into the prepared jars, then seal using the boiling water method.  Refrigerate any jars that don’t seal properly.

Notes:

I used about half a dozen varieties of plums from the farmers market in this batch: yellow-fleshed ones with mottled skins, giant plain red ones, purple ovoid Italian ones, and little unassuming ones with hearts the color of blood. Mixing your plums will give you a more complex and interesting jam, but any variety should be delicious.

This jam is tart and rich enough for savory applications too.  It made a lovely post-hurricane lunch with Manchego on whole wheat for me, and slow-cooked pork loin for His Lordship. I strongly suspect it’d also be smashing with turkey instead of or mixed into cranberry sauce in a couple of months, if you want to get a jump on your holiday prep.

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Twas the Night Before Christmas

…aaaand I didn’t give a reindeer’s fluffy behind, honestly. I have zero holiday spirit this year. Literally zilch, zip, nada, rien, nichts. There are no lights or ornaments up, no stockings have been hung with care, and I’m planning on spending the majority of my Christmas Day getting acquainted with TSA measures and enjoying all the other delights of trans-continental air travel these days. The Grinch ain’t got nothing on me.

But since I can’t let the year ring itself out without one more blog post no matter how Scroogey my outlook, I would like to share a recipe that just might make your heart grow two sizes, should you need a no-fuss showstopper of a brunch or dessert item between now and Twelfth Night. I whipped it up during my November novel writing-related insanity, so if I say you can do this one with only half a functional brain, you can take my word for it.

As is my wont this time of year, I had bought a panettone before Thanksgiving, but since it’s just me and His Lordship, I quickly sated my eggy, fruity cravings and still had a little over a quarter of the loaf left, forlornly sitting in its box. I thought about making French toast, which is a perfectly lovely application for leftover panettone, but decided bread pudding would be even better. I adapted an America’s Test Kitchen recipe and made four individual puddings in the high-sided ramekins I picked up at IKEA some time back, and have found a bazillion uses for since.

And then, because I’m me, I also decided that a salted caramel sauce would make it even more inspirational to my writerly efforts, and modified Nigella Lawson’s quick butterscotch sauce to fit the bill.

The puddings, I’m not ashamed to say, are stupendous. The custard is neither too eggy nor too sweet, and the bread absorbs just enough of it to stay airy and light without going mushy. The bits that stick out the very top get lovely and crispy, while the dried fruit in the panettone stays moist and chewy. You could leave off the sauce if you like, and as His Lordship did, but I think it adds both elegance and a nice intensity to contrast with the soothing softness of the pudding.

So there you have it, my little Cindy Lou Whos. I may have a raging case of the bah humbugs, but you can’t say I didn’t deliver any holiday cheer. Ho, ho, ho!

Panettone Bread Pudding with Salted Caramel Sauce
(Adapted from America’s Test Kitchen’s The Best Recipe and Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat)
Serves 4

For the puddings:

4 cups panettone, sliced into 2-inch cubes (approximately 1/4 of a standard panettone)
2 eggs
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 cup milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons bourbon
1 tablespoon vanilla
Pinch of salt

For the sauce:

4 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons light brown sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/3 cup Lyle’s Golden Syrup
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large pinches Maldon salt

Move the oven rack to the lower-third position and preheat oven to 325 F. Generously butter 4 large, high-sided ramekins.

Spread the panettone cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet and bake 5-7 minutes to dry them out a bit, removing immediately if they start showing signs of browning. Divide the panettone evenly between the ramekins and set back on the sheet.

In a large measuring cup, whisk together the eggs and sugar until well combined, then blend in the milk, cream, bourbon, vanilla and salt. Pour a quarter of the custard mixture into each of the bread-filled cups.

Bake the puddings 30-35 minutes, until golden brown on top and rising up in the cups, and just barely jiggly when shaken. Set aside to cool to just warm while making the sauce, or cool completely and refrigerate for later.

To make the sauce, combine the butter, sugars and golden syrup in a small, heavy pan and melt together over medium heat. Allow to simmer enthusiastically for 5 minutes, then remove from heat and stir in cream, vanilla, and salt. Stir well to melt the salt, then decant into a pitcher.

Notes:

This recipe can be scaled up easily to accommodate however much leftover panettone you have. Should you not have any leftover panettone (though why wouldn’t you, since they’re everywhere now and will be everywhere and on sale after the holidays?), you could use raisin challah or brioche instead.

If you can’t find Lyle’s Golden Syrup, you could substitute light corn syrup or honey. Likewise, if you don’t have Maldon salt, another good-quality coarse sea salt will do.

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A Balm for Writer’s Block

Blogging is going to be light this month, because I have more pressing matters to attend to. I’m still baking for the coworkers every Sunday because they’ve made it clear it’s no longer optional to bring in treats on Monday morning, so there will be things to blog, but it’s bound to be more hit-and-run in nature than I’d normally like.

So, since I have a daily word quota hanging over my head, here’s a very quick write-up of the perfect cookie for the November insanity. Not only are they the kind of yummy calories your brain needs for heavy thinking, but they are practically instantaneous to make because there’s no creaming of butter and they go straight from bowl to oven.

Interestingly, making these cookies last night for a lunch with students today also kicked me out of what had been a pretty weak start to this year’s NaNoWriMo. I was really organized about preparing for it last week, but I was also still pretty tired from a very busy October so the words weren’t coming as fast as they should have. Having fixed fifteen-minute windows between batches actually made me more productive than I had been with unstructured evenings on Monday and Tuesday, and since then I’ve been much more enthusiastic about the whole thing.

These cookies are adapted from the recipe for chewy sugar cookies in this month’s Cook’s Illustrated. Normally, I am no fan of sugar cookies, because almost every one I’ve ever had has been the equivalent of a white canvas — not in a stripped-down-to-essentials, purity of ingredients way like a good shortbread, but in a bland, bland, boring, nothing but flavorless-fat-and-sugar way. I gave this recipe a try, though, because His Lordship loves a chewy cookie, and the recipe relied on the same liquid-fat-ratio math that recently produced the first batch of brownies to really meet his chewiness requirement. I made changes to inject some interest, though, because I still wasn’t buying the whole plain sugar cookie idea.

The texture of these cookies was everything that was promised: crackly on the outside and beautifully chewy on the inside. With my additions of toasted coconut and macadamia nuts, they also have rich coconutty flavor and tender crunch, enough to inspire at least a couple of hundred words.

Since I now have cookies and an awesome new caffeine delivery vehicle, I have no excuses. Back to work!

Coconut-Macadamia Sugar Cookies
(Adapted from Chewy Sugar Cookies, Cook’s Illustrated, November/December 2010)
Makes 4 dozen cookies

1/2 cup finely shredded unsweetened coconut
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
2 ounces cream cheese, in 8 pieces
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 large egg
1 tablespoon coconut milk (or regular milk)
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup unsalted roasted macadamia nuts, coarsely chopped
Additional sugar for rolling

In a small nonstick skillet, toast the coconut on medium-low heat, stirring frequently, until golden brown. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 350 F and line multiple baking sheets with parchment paper.

Place the sugar in a large bowl and scatter the cream cheese cubes over the surface. Melt the butter and pour it over the sugar and cream cheese while still warm, stirring and folding with a spatula until most of the cream cheese has melted (streaks and a few small lumps are OK). Switch to a whisk and mix in the oil, then the egg, coconut milk and vanilla until smooth.

Whisk together the flour, baking soda and powder, and salt, and add to the wet ingredients. Whisk until almost incorporated, then stir in the toasted coconut and macadamia nuts.

Fill a shallow bowl with about half a cup of sugar. Scoop up heaping tablespoon-sized bits of dough and roll into balls, dropping them into the sugar and rolling to coat. Set the balls on the baking sheets, two inches apart.

Bake on the middle rack for 12-13 minutes, until turning golden at the edges. Allow to cool to room temperature on the sheets. Store in an airtight container for up to a week.

Notes:

This makes a very soft, oily, weird-looking dough, but it will come out fine, I promise!

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Better Than Pie

A couple of months back, His Lordship and I checked out the newest upscale barbecue joint. I was pleasantly surprised by the vegetarian chili, which was pleasantly spicy and full of chewy seitan pieces and chunks of vegetables in a not-too-thick tomato base. I was equally impressed by their pecan pie, which nimbly sidestepped all the usual dangers of the genre. It was sweet but not tooth-destroying, had quite a decently flaky crust, and was bursting with nicely-sized pecan pieces.

Good though it was, the pie reminded me of an even-better bar cookie I’d previously made. The cookies poured a decadent honey and brown sugar caramel over a buttery base and covered it with a blanket of chopped toasted nuts, taking all the charms of a really good pecan pie and ramping them up to dazzling. A week or so later, I made the bars again, and was wowed all over again.

The price to be paid for this degree of wonderfulness is getting out the dreaded candy thermometer, but I promise it’s absolutely worth it. The bourbon-infused caramel offers all the symphonic roundness the standard one-note corn syrup substrate can’t. Since the cookie base holds up much better than pie crust, I’d even venture to suggest that these bars, cut into more pie-sized slices, would make the perfect make-ahead dessert for Thanksgiving.

Honey Caramel Pecan Bars
(Adapted from Nancy Baggett, The All-American Cookie Book)
Makes 36-48 small bars

For cookie layer:
9 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

For caramel pecan layer:
2 cups whole pecans
1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butter
1/2 cup mild honey
6 tablespoons light brown sugar
3 tablespoons heavy cream
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons bourbon

Preheat the oven to 400 F. Line a 9 x 13 baking pan with nonstick aluminum foil, leaving several inches of overhang all around.

In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the butter, sugar and egg and beat until fluffy, about 2 minutes. Whisk together the dry ingredients and add to the butter mixture, beating just until smooth. Spread the cookie dough in a thin, even layer in the lined pan. Bake on the center oven rack for 12-15 minutes, until golden in the center and a bit darker at the edges. Set on a wire rack while preparing the caramel layer.

Lower the oven temperature to 350 F. Spread the pecans on a baking sheet and toast just until they darken slightly and release a nutty aroma. Chop the pecans moderately fine and set aside.

Bring the butter, honey, brown sugar, and cream to a boil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Insert a candy thermometer and continue to cook at a low boil until the caramel reaches 250 F. Remove from the heat and stir in the bourbon and half the chopped pecans.

Pour the caramel over the crust, spreading all the way to the edges, and sprinkle the remaining cup of pecans over the top. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until bubbling and browned. Cool to room temperature on a wire rack, then refrigerate until well chilled, at least 1 1/2 hours.

Use the overhang to lift the cookie slab out of the pan and onto a cutting board. Pull the foil away, then use a sharp knife to cut the slab into narrow bars, cleaning the sticky residue off the blade between cuts for a clean slice.

Notes:

The original recipe was made with hazelnuts, which are wonderful but obviously more work. It also had a chocolate garnish on top, formed by sprinkling the still-warm bars with very finely chopped chocolate and leaving it to melt. Uncharacteristically, I found it to be a wee bit overkill, since the chocolate distracted from the clean flavor of the hazelnuts and definitely would have overwhelmed the pecans, but feel free to add that back in if you disagree.

If you don’t have a thermometer, you can test the caramel for doneness by dropping 1/2 a teaspoon of it into a glass of ice water once it thickens and starts to darken. It should form a soft ball in the water which flattens once lifted out.

The unsliced slab can supposedly be wrapped tightly and frozen for several weeks, although I have never had the necessary level of willpower to put theory to practice.

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