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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Soup for a Blustery Day

Despite my love of fall produce, especially cranberries, for some reason I’m not quite ready for autumn just yet.  Ready or not, the temperatures are dropping, the rain and wind have definitely arrived, and so have the seasonal offerings at the market.

Since I can’t hold it back, this rich, just barely gingery bisque of kabocha squash is a great start toward embracing the inevitable.  I roasted the diced squash first for extra depth, and separately toasted the seeds with butter and five-spice powder for a crunchy garnish.  Apple cider mixed with the vegetable stock and diced apples in the garnish added a hint of sweetness and brought out even more of the squash flavor.

Although it was the backbone of a very casual rainy-day dinner tonight, the smooth simplicity and seasonally-appropriate colors of this soup would make it a great first course for your Thanksgiving dinner.

Roasted Kabocha Squash Soup with Apple and Five-Spice Seeds
Serves 4

1 small (2-lb) kabocha squash
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon Chinese five-spice powder
1 tablespoon each unsalted butter and olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
3 stalks celery, diced
2 cups vegetable stock
1 cup apple cider
2 tsp grated fresh ginger
Salt and pepper
1 eating apple (preferably Honeycrisp or Fuji)
Juice of 1/2 lemon

Preheat oven to 400 F.  Line two baking sheets with foil.

Peel and empty out the squash, reserving the seeds.  Chop the peeled squash into 1-inch dice and toss with canola oil, then spread onto sheet in single layer.  Bake until tender and beginning to brown at the edges, 30-35 minutes, stirring once or twice.  Remove from oven and reduce oven temperature to 375 F.

Remove the seeds from the squash pulp, clean well in a bowl of water, and pat dry between paper towels.  Stir the salt and five-spice powder into the melted butter, add to the cleaned seeds, and toss to combine.  Spread onto the second sheet and roast until golden and crisp.  Set aside to cool.

Heat the butter and olive oil in a heavy stock pot over medium heat.  Saute the onion and celery until translucent, then add roasted squash and ginger cook a few minutes more.  Add stock, cider, salt and pepper.  Bring to a boil, then cover and lower heat, simmering for 30 minutes.

Using an immersion or regular blender, puree the soup until smooth. Taste and correct with additional salt and pepper as needed.

Peel and dice the apple, tossing with the lemon juice, then mix with the roasted seeds. Ladle the soup into bowls and top with the seed and apple garnish.

Notes:

Any orange squash, from butternut to pumpkin, could be substituted here, although pumpkin seeds are tougher and more fibrous than kabocha.  In that case, I would use toasted pecans in the garnish instead, as I did when I first made this soup with sweet potatoes, which was also great.

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