There’s been lots of cookie talk around here lately, which is always a good development. We should talk about cookies all the time, not just the holidays.
Between all the cookie talk, and a friend asking me if I’ll be baking for the holidays, I got to thinking about what I bake and when. It occurred to me that, other than the pumpkin pies I make for Thanksgiving (not making them would be grounds for divorce), the “what and when” barely applies. I bake when I feel like it, and I bake the same things.
Regular readers won’t be surprised to learn that everything I bake is easy and simple – Tollhouse cookies, brownies, chocolate chocolate chip cookies and poundcake. I have nothing against fancy, pretty holiday sweets. I usually try a few of them. But I contend that, between a specialty item and a simple one, the simple one generally wins out.
Maybe it’s because people prefer to stick with what they know. In my case, it’s just because I’m picky. I don’t like cookies with jam in the middle or glaze on the top. Sprinkles are pretty, but I don’t see the point. I don’t even like those cookies topped with a Hershey’s Kiss. Maybe it’s the cookie itself. They usually taste like dust to me.
I admit that, when it comes to baking, I’m a bit lazy. I want to make something I can do in my sleep. I’m also cheap. I don’t use recipes that require lots of ingredients I don’t already have or don’t regularly use.
For me, simple and classic is the way to go. What qualifies as a classic? There’s no debate over the status of the Tollhouse cookie. Brownies and poundcake are classic, but they can be all kinds of gussied up. And there are holiday classics – gingerbread (which I’m currently eyeing up, even though I’ve already had a piece), the aforementioned pumpkin pie, fruitcake (if only to pass on to an unsuspecting friend or relative).
Families have their own classics. My mother used to make mincemeat pie every year. I think she was the only in the family who ate it. She still makes chocolate truffles for Christmas, and it wouldn’t seem like Christmas without them. She also makes a traditional New York style cheesecake. No topping. A cheesecake should stand on its own.
I know that eating something you only get once a year can be a bigger treat than having something familiar. But I will always prefer the fabulousness of a simple, unembellished cookie to one with bells, whistles and sprinkles.
What do you bake for the holidays, and what are your favorite things to eat?
This week, I've got two recipes of my own to share first, then I'll give a roundup of the best vegan chocolate desserts that I've found. Enjoy!
This cake is always a hit and is so easy to make! I've made this recipe at least a dozen times and each one was perfect. This is for a double-layer cake.
Ingredients
3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
6 tbsp unsweetened cocoa
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
3 tsp vanilla
2 tsp vinegar
2/3 cup vegetable oil
2 cups cold water
Directions
In a large mixing bowl, mix flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda and salt. Make three wells in the flour mixture. In one put vanilla, in another the vinegar, and in the third the oil. Pour the cold water over everything and stir until moistened (don't stir too much). Pour equal portions into two 8-inch round cake pans. Bake at 350F until it springs back when touched lightly - about 40 minutes. Cool for 20-30 minutes in the pan, then carefully remove to a cooling rack for another 30 minutes.
Basic chocolate frosting
5 tbsp flour
1 cup water
6 tbsp dairy-free margarine
1 cup sugar
3 tbsp cocoa powder
Whisk flour and water in small pan over medium heat until smooth with a glue-like consistency. Place pan into another pan which is filled with cold water to cool. While that cools, cream together the margarine, sugar, and cocoa. Then slowly incorporate the flour glue, mix well, and put in fridge for 30-60 minutes. Spread chilled icing over the top and sides of the bottom cake, then place the top cake, and continue with the icing. Eat any icing that you have left over, and transfer the cake to the refrigerator for about 30 minutes until the icing sets.
This is very similar to the reader recipe that Kate posted a few months ago, although mine calls for fewer ingredients. This pie is a big hit with everyone in my family, even the die-hard meat eaters who detest tofu.
Ingredients
2 -12 ounce boxes firm silken tofu
1 12 oz bag of chocolate chips
1 pie crust - graham or chocolate
Directions
Puree the tofu in a food processor (include any liquid in the box). Melt chocolate chips over very low heat, stirring constantly or melt in the microwave at 50% power. Combine the pureed tofu and melted chocolate, then pour into the pie crust. Refrigerate at least 45 minutes.
Here are some of the best vegan chocolate desserts that I could find. If you have a favorite, please leave a link in the comments!
Gluten-Free Chocolate Chip Cookies
Thanks to Flickr user QuintanaRoo for the photo below.
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See you next week!
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Now Playing: Music For The Masses by Depeche Mode.
| Ben is a graduate student at NCSU studying Crop Science with an emphasis on Sustainable Agriculture. Official foodie credentials are non-existent, other than the fact that he has been cooking for himself since he was 12 years old. You can find his personal blog at bengarland.com, photos and videos at bengarland's Flickr photostream, and his plans for a self-constructed earthen home and organic farm over at Our Farm Adventure. |
The Royal Winter Fair is currently on in Toronto and runs through to November 16th. Not only is this the world's largest combined indoor agricultural fair and equestrian show, it's an amazing opportunity to look how our food makes it to the table. I posted several adorable animal photos on my blog yesterday, but realize not everyone can make it to the fair.
My recent walk amongst the pig pens and goat stalls got me thinking about our connection to the land and livestock. Not everyone gets to see barnyard animals close up or dig in the dirt. While this gaping chasm between us and our food can be closed an inch or two by visiting fairs, the hedonist in me loves that I can also accomplish this by going on vacation.
Agri-tourism is on the rise. When I first heard of this travel option, I imagined a form of barnyard boot camp, complete with aching muscles and manure encrusted Wellingtons. But a visit to Black Star Farms, just outside Suttons Bay, Michigan, proved me wrong. This Kentucky-style luxury inn does more than cater to guests. It's an "Agricultural Destination" with a vineyard, winery, CSA farm, livestock, Farmer's Market, creamery and stable.
You can stay for a week, weekend or just drop by for a few hours. You can see cheese being made, pat a pig, sample wine, or -- my favourite -- eat.
When I was there, Jen Welty, the pastry chef, had just made a fresh batch of the best apple galettes I've ever tasted for the Farmer's Market cafe. She generously shared her recipe with permission to pass it onto you. Although Jen usually bakes for crowds, she's reduced this recipe to make a tidy dozen. I've included her original measurements in grams and added my measurements in volume. Since my kitchen scales are not digital, my measurements might not have been as precise as Jen's, but the results were ...
Rustic Apple Galettes with Raisins and Apple Brandy
Yield: 12 individual galettes
For the crust (Pâte Brisée):
4 cups (510 g) all-purpose flour
2 tsp (11 g) salt
1 cup + 2 tbsp (255 g) butter, cubed
1/2 cup (120 g) water
1 large (57 g) egg
1. Combine the flour and salt in the bowl of an electric mixer. Add the cubed butter and mix on low speed with the hook attachment until you reach a course, mealy consistency.
2. Combine the water and egg. Add the egg and water mixture gradually to the flour while mixing on low speed, until it just comes together. The dough should not look smooth or uniform. Tightly wrap the dough in plastic and let rest under refrigeration for at least one hour.
For the apple filling:
2 1/4 pounds (1kg) apples, unpeeled, small diced.
1 tbsp (7 g) cinnamon
1/4 cup (60g.) sugar
2/3 cup (3 oz) raisins
1 tbsp cornstarch
1/2 cup (120 ml) Black Star Farms Spirit of Apple Brandy (or another apple brandy such as Calvados)
6 tbsp butter, divided into 12 equal parts (1/2 tablespoon per galette)
For the glaze:
3/4 cup (180 g) apricot jam
water, as needed
1. In a small bowl combine the apple brandy and raisins. Soak for 30 minutes.
2. In a bowl, combine apples, sugar, cinnamon and cornstarch. Toss to coat evenly.
3. Lightly flour the work surface for rolling out the crust. Gather the pâte brisée and press it together. Roll the dough out very thinly into a rectangle 14” X 42”. (The dough should be no more than 2mm thick).
4. With a sharp knife, cut out 12 circles, about 7 inches in diameter each.
5. Dock (pierce) each circle with a fork a few times. Divide the apple mixture evenly between the circles. Spread the mixture in a circle even with the dough circle until it is 3 inches in diameter. Fold the edges of the dough over the apples. Transfer to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
6. Place 1/2 tablespoon of butter in the center of each galette.
8. Bake at 400ºF for 50 minutes, or until the apples in the center begin to brown on the edges. Remove from oven and top with brandy-infused raisins. Drizzle the remaining brandy in the center of each galette. Return to oven and bake for an additional 5-10 minutes.
9. When galettes have cooled to room temperature, heat apricot jam with one tablespoon of water until boiling. Brush the crusts and the center of each galette with the hot apricot mixture.
In France, Halloween isn't a very big deal, and so it's one of the few times that I allow myself to be super-American. I got dressed up as a vampire, went out to a Canadian bar with a bunch of Americans from my school and basically allowed myself, for one night, to be everything that I hate about American ex-pats living in France: loud, boisterous and ultra-American.
My obsession with Halloween did have one good side-effect, however: I bumped baking Saturdays to baking Fridays in order to make these Chocolate Peanut Butter Cupcakes, the recipe for which I found over at Peabody's site. She fills them and frosts them with ganache, but by the time I had gotten through the fiasco that was baking the things (baking in my tiny Paris kitchen is often a fiasco), I decided to use the filling as a frosting instead.
You can find the recipe on Peabody's site, but I made a few changes. I only had sweetened baking chocolate, so I used that and cut the sugar in the recipe to a quarter cup. I also added about a half-shot of espresso when I added the boiling water (you could also use espresso powder). These changes left the cupcakes sweet, but not cloying, and topped with the frosting, they were the perfect Halloween treat.
The pumpkin toothpicks and cupcake wrappers that my mom brought back from the States helped too.
This is pastry chef Marit Kaszubwoski making her decadent Chocolate Truffle Cake at Tapawingo, a restaurant so good, it lures Chicago diners to tiny Ellsworth, Michigan -- a six-hour drive from The Windy City.
Even unbaked, the recipe makes me long for a spoon.
Going behind the scenes at restaurants like this inspires me to try new dishes, but also leaves me in awe. Despite having just whipped together a dessert that involved melting chocolate, fly-away cocoa powder and beaten egg whites, the kitchen -- and the pastry chef -- remained immaculate. When I tested the recipe? My counters ended up dusted in cocoa powder and dribbles of chocolate stained on my apron and face. Kaszubwoski might not sample the batter like I do, but how does she defy gravity?
During my travels, I've found most chefs to be as generous as they are tidy. Without hesitation, Kaszubwoski shared her recipe with me, passing along a few baking tips as well.
Here is her recipe for Tapawingo's extremely dense truffle cake. Your kitchen might be messy by the time you're done, but dark chocolate lovers will find it's worth the effort.
Note 1: The recipes calls for dark chocolate couverture, a coating chocolate available at specialty shops. If you can't get it, substitute equal amounts of dark chocolate and add 1/4 to 1/2 tsp of butter for each ounce of chocolate.
Note 2: Like most chefs, Kaszubwoski weighs her ingredients for accuracy. In case you don't have scales, I've put measurements in brackets, but keep in mind, these are approximate since scales can vary.
Tapawingo's Chocolate Truffle Cake
12 oz dark chocolate couverture
14 oz (about 4 1/2 cups) pure cocoa powder
10 fl oz (1 1/4 cups) water
12 oz (about 1 3/4 cup) sugar
18 oz (2 1/4 cups) soft butter, at room temperature
12 egg whites
6 oz (1 scant cup) sugar
1. Melt the dark chocolate couverture (or chocolate and 1 tbsp butter) and combine it with the cocoa powder in a metal bowl.
2. Bring the water and the first amount of sugar to a boil.
3. Remove sugar water from the heat and pour it into the chocolate.
4. Add the butter, in small pieces, and stir until the chocolate is smooth.
5. Whip the egg whites with the second amount of sugar until they form soft peaks.
6. Gently fold the whipped egg whites into the chocolate mixture.
7. Pour the batter into a cake pan and bake it at 350F for about 25 min. (Note, when I tested the cake, I made it in one pan as the recipe suggested. The resulting cake was twice the height of the dessert served at Tapawingo. It took 45 minutes to bake. Based on Kaszubwoski's timing, I would make two 10" pans the next time or halve the recipe.)
KASZUBWOSKI'S TIPS:
1. The chocolate needs to be still warm, but not hot, to produce a smooth consistency of batter.
2. Try not to incorporate too much air into the batter, as it will make the finished product crumbly and difficult to work with.
Those of you who read the comments have come across Leisureguy before. He's a regular here, and I find his contributions to the discussions often insightful and spot on. He sent me an e-mail, about two weeks ago, extolling the virtues of pie recipe that he was fond of, made of chocolate and soy. He ended the e-mail to me by saying "you probably won't try it."
I can guess why he wrote that, as I am not a fan of soy. I am, however, a tremendous fan of pie, and am also curious enough to see if I can get it to work.
The result? A very interesting pie, with a lighter chocolate taste, especially when compared against a typical chocolate silk pie. Dare I say it? This pie has nuance.
It's also a breeze to make, once one is able to find the key ingredient - soy. The site from which the recipe first appears recommends a specific brand, as others tend to be less silky in texture, a key aspect of this pie.
The recipe calls for a no-bake pie shell, which I also purchased rather than made myself. This was intentional, as I wanted to replicate Leisureguy's take on the recipe. For those of you who feel I should lose my pie-making license over this, I humbly apologize.
Melt the chocolate in the top of a double boiler until the chips retain their shape but are soft as warm butter. Remove from heat and let stand a couple minutes.
Puree the tofu in a food processor (about 2 minutes) frequently scraping down the sides of the mixing bowl to ensure that all of the tofu is converted from a soft brick into a warm-pudding consistency. Add the water to the sugar, then mix both into the tofu. Add the softened chocolate and stir until thoroughly mixed. Pour into a chocolate-cookie pie shell and swirl the top to make soft peaks, like frosting a cake. Garnish with berries. Then chill to set. Ready in 1 hour.
Serves 8 - 10
Kate is going to love me. Today I'm talking pie. Both crust and filling.
I'm being a bit sneaky by posting the pastry recipe here and the recipe for Marty's Big Ass Muskoka Maple Pie on my blog. But this pie is so big it requires two posts.
Let me start by saying that I have been known to make pastry so bad I wasn't able to roll it. The rock hard lump I'd somehow conjured from flour, fat and water was the closest I'll ever get to owning granite counter tops. I sent my attempt to landfill and used a "no fail" pastry from then on. It was perfectly fine. Two damning words for pastry.
Then I found a recipe in Marty Curtis's book, Marty's World Famous Cookbook: Secrets from the Muskoka Landmark Café. I'd heard about Marty, aka The Michelangelo of Buttertarts, for a while and figured if the pastry was good enough for him, I should give it a try. I'd glad I did. This pastry is more than perfectly fine. It's perfect.
And the proof is in the pudding, or in this case, the pastry. I tested this dough when I was tired, cranky and rushing. Even my mood couldn't ruin it. Marty says this old family recipe originated from an order of nuns in Quebec. It's a hundred years old and nothing works better. Maybe the sisters gave it a special blessing?
Or maybe Marty put some good karma into the mix? Not only has he published the recipe in his cookbook, along with his previously well-guarded butter tart recipe, he's provided step-by-step illustrations and a video on his website.
While Marty's buttertarts are good enough to serve to the legendary Maple Leaf goalie Johnny Bower on a hockey stick, out of loyalty, I'm sticking to Mom's version -- although I'll be using the following crust.
Century-Old Nuns’ Pastry Dough
Excerpted with permission from Marty’s World Famous Cookbook (Whitecap Books)
by Marty Curtis
Makes enough dough for 3 10-inch, deep dish pies
Marty writes: We use this pastry for our buttertarts, pies, strudels, and apple dumplings. People often wonder what makes our pastry so flaky and tender. Wonder no more! This is the recipe used by La congrégation des Soeurs grises in Quebec, and was passed on to my family in Montreal, the Desjardins, then to me, and now — with my pleasure — it’s being passed on to you. It amazes me how a recipe can survive so long, but there’s a simple explanation. Love.
When I’m making the pastry for our buttertarts, I often visualize myself living in a monastery and imagining the peace and tranquility the lifestyle instills. This may seem odd to some but the pastry turns out perfect every time. Coincidence? You decide.
Ingredients:
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp kosher salt
rind and juice of ½ a lemon
1 lb lard (we recommend Tenderflake)
1 egg, separated
Directions:
Sift the flour into a large bowl. Add the salt and lemon rind (reserving the juice), and stir with a whisk. Cut the lard into small cubes. Use a pastry knife to chop the lard and flour together into smaller pea-sized pieces until the mix resembles a light, floury crumble.
Separate the egg white into a bowl for whisking and the yolk into a measuring jug. Add the lemon juice to the egg yolk, top with ice-cold water to the 1-cup line, and stir well.
Whisk the egg white until foamy and white.
Make a well in the flour mixture.
Add the egg yolk, lemon juice, and water mixture to the flour mixture and gently fold 7–12 times by hand. While the mix is still a bit floury, add in the whipped egg white and gently press, fold, and press again until all the flour combines into a paste-like ball.
If you’re making buttertarts, divide the dough into 2 balls, wrap with plastic wrap, and chill for 1 hour before using. If you’re making 10-inch pie crusts, divide it into 3 before wrapping and chilling. If you’re making 1 Big Ass pie, divide two-thirds of the pastry into one ball, and the remaining one-third into another before wrapping and chilling.
This has not been a good week for me, for several reasons, mostly all of them dealing with the pain in the ass that is my regular, paying job.
Due to these stresses,I was looking forward to this recipe. As regular readers here know, pie is my paxil, my "go to" food when I need to make sense of the world. It is also the bane of my doctor's perspective on how I approach my life, but that's a different post.
It also seemed a bit exotic. I mean who uses watermelon in a pie recipe? And how does one incorporate a highly volatile fruit into a solid pastry format? The answers to the above rhetorical questions are "Fans of chiffon pies" and "you use gelatin, and a fair bit of it".
So, using a recipe found in my "Go to" pie cookbook, (Ken Haedrich's Pie:300 Tried-and-True Recipes for Delicious Homemade Pie) I set upon the task of making my week a little better.
The result? A Pie that I'm still unsure about. I taste's okay, don't get me wrong. But it a tad bit disconcerting to have watermelon flavor come from a slice of pie. My mind simply wasn't ready to make the correlation between seeing a slice and expecting the flavor of the summer fruit. It's as if my mind can only allow for a specific set of flavors to be used in pie, and when faced with a new one, it treats it as if it's some sort of rare novelty.
And it takes a pretty horrible picture to boot. A slice is unable to hold its own weight for any length of time, and physics then dictates that the slice of watermelon chiffon has to collapse upon itself. Thus this picture above, where the pie tin has the task of ensuring a decent looking slice.
But here's the thing...It's not that bad. In fact it's pretty good. But if you've never had watermelon in anything but the natural watermelon format - slices at a barbeque- you may be bound to say "Well that tastes weird...but in a good way".
For the Crust:
Pre heat oven to 350 degrees F.
Mix together graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and butter until well-combined.
Press mixture into the bottom and up the sides of a 9-inch pie plate or tin.
Place in the oven and bake the crust for 7 to 9 minutes. Place in the regrigerator to chill.
For the Filling: Place the watermelon and the granulated sugar into a large bowl. Using a potato Masher (Mr. Haedrich's method) or immersion blender (my method), liquify the flesh as fully as possible. Set aside for 15 minutes. Then strain the mixture, ensuring you have 2 3/4 cup of sugared watermelon juice. Discard the pulp and any extraneous liquid.
In a medium sized bowl, pour in 1/4 cup of watermelon juice and sprinkle the gelatin on top. Set aside for 4 minutes, allowing the gelatin to dissolve. Meanwhile, place 1/2 cup of the watermelon juice in a sauce pan, and bring to a boil. Whisk the hot juice into the gelatin mixture.
In a larger bowl, place in the remaining watermelon juice, and stir in the watermelon gelatin mixture. Add the lime juice, and then cover and place in the refrigerator.
Using an electric beater, beat the egg whites in a medium sized bowl until stiff peaks form. Set aside. In yet another bowl (that's # four) that has been chilled, pour in the heavy cream and beat with an electric beater until peaks form. Add the sifted powdered sugar, and incorporate until smooth. Place in the refrigerator.
When the watermelon gelatin starts to firm (my took about an hour) remove and add 1/4 of the whipped cream. Whisk the contents with the electric beater until smooth. Fold in the egg whites and remaining whipped cream, ensuring consistency of the filling. You want to avoid pockets of white from either the egg whites or whipped cream. Pour into the chilled pie shell. Cover with aluminum foil and allow to chill overnight.
Serves 10
2101 views • Categories: Cakes, Pastries & Pies 
For those of you who do not live in or near a city with a high concentration of people with Japanese ancestry, the above picture may be a little unfamiliar. So let me make an introduction.
This is daifuku. A rice cake if you will. The outside pastry is a very chewy rice dough (some would call it glutonous), the filling is called anko, a redish bean paste made from azuki beans and sugar. My understanding is that, while available all year round, they become quite popular around the new year celebrations.
I had my first run in with these treats about four years ago, when Derrick, a friend of mine from here in Seattle, took me into a local pastry shop and forced me to have one. As a person weened on cookies and pies, it's taste and especially it's texture came as a bit of a shock. But I found myself returning to them every so often when I would visit my local Japanese grocery store. They go quite well with hot tea.
They do have a certain aesthetic about them that draws me to them. As you can see, this one does have the dreaded green food coloring added to the dough, but I'm willing to give this a temporary pass, for the color may have some traditional meaning of which I am unfamiliar.
One of the bigger problems in making dessert is the fear that one might consume the entire fruits of one's labor in one sitting. It takes a great deal of discipline and determination to not have a second serving of the sweet treat that one had just spent an hour or so creating.
This peach tiramisu (found in Reinhardt Hess's flawed yet still fabulous book) found itself the center of attention for several days after its creation. Moderation won these battles, but it should not be seen as a reflection of the tiramisu. This is a wonderful interpretation of the Venetian classic.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Blanch the peaches for 1-2 minutes, and the shock them in a bowl of ice water. Peel, pit, and slice the peaches, then place in a sauce pan placed over medium heat.
To the peaches add 1/4 cup of the sugar, lemon juice, and the scraped insides of the vanilla bean. Simmer for five minutes, and then remove the peaches from heat and set aside.
Separate the eggs, putting the whites in one bowl and the yolks in another. Beat the egg whites until peaks start showing.
Beat the egg yolks in 1/4 cup of sugar until fluffy. Incorporate the mascarpone into the egg yolk mixture, and then fold in the egg whites.
In a 7" by 11" glass baking dish (or any approximate size), place 12 of the lady fingers on the bottom of the dish. (Do not worry if all 12 cannot fit...more for you). Top with 1/2 of the peaches. Then spread with anywhere between 1/3 to 1/2 of the mascarpone. Repeat, adding the next layer of lady fingers, the rest of the peaches, and finally the rest of the mascarpone.
Cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours.
Toast the nuts in the butter for 2-3 minutes over medium/medium-high heat. Crush the nuts and dust over the tiramisu. Dust the tiramisu with cocoa powder to taste.
Serves 10
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