I've been thinking long and hard about what to write for this post. With the new year should come reflections on what has gone by, resolutions or goals for what's ahead, or maybe some deep thoughts on life in general. The truth is, when I think about the passing of yet another year, my mind comes up blank. Time keeps going, whether we're prepared for it or not, and as much wisdom as there is to be gained through experiences and relationships, it doesn't always come in a nice neat package marked by each year that passes. So with that said, I decided instead to simply focus on food, which has its way of helping to move life along pleasantly.
One of my favorite bakeries is Bouchon Bakery. I must have mentioned this before. Some months ago, though, the Yountville Bouchon Bakery was damaged by a fire, and it was a very very sad day. It isn't exactly close to me, so I don't know if it's reopened yet, but going there was always a treat. To my surprise, I received the Bouchon cookbook for Christmas--a gorgeous and completely impractical (not only because of the complexity of the recipes, but because of the book's sheer size and weight) compendium of photos, stories and recipes from the Bouchon bistro and bakery. Flipping through the book, even though it was all about bistro cooking (more "basic" French food), I thought I would never be able to make anything from it, though the pictures looked enticing. It would be the perfect coffee table book, something fun to peruse and dream about but not really to cook from.
I have, however, found one recipe I dared to try. The ingredients were so few, I thought there must be something missing, or it needed cinnamon or some other spice. But this is Thomas Keller--he must know what he's doing, and I decided to trust the recipe. The most complicated thing about it was the caramelization process, which took over an hour on the stove top, but when all was said and done, it was well worth the wait. Baking alone won't achieve the same color and flavor that the slow cooking process can. And there are few things I dislike more when it comes to baking than peeling and coring apples, because I go about it so slowly. But even that won't deter me from making this again.
Tarte Tatin
Adapted from Bouchon, by Thomas Keller (with John Cerciello)
For the pate brisee:
1. In a stand mixer, using the paddle attachment, mix together on low:
- 1 cup flour
- 1 t. salt
- 2 sticks of butter (1 cup), cut into cubes
Add the cubes of butter into mixer a few at a time
2. Turn the mixer up to medium to completely blend the butter and flour.
3. Add the following, adding the water after the flour has been combined completely:
- 1 cup flour
- 1/4 cup ice water
Don't over mix, though the flour and water should be completely incorporated.
4. Divide the dough in half and form into round discs. Refrigerate at least an hour. This recipe will only require one half.
For the tart:
1. Peel, core, and cut into quarters:
- 3 pounds of apples--apples that will hold their shape when cooked (e.g. Golden Delicious, Granny Smith, Fuji)
(Thomas Keller provides slightly different instructions on how many apples to use and how to cut and arrange them, but I found that it was easier to do them as I describe it here--though I might try his way next time.)
2. Heat in a 10" cast iron skillet on medium heat:
- 2 T. unsalted butter, cut in small pieces and distributed on the pan
- 3/4 cup sugar, also evenly spread on the pan
- as many apple wedges as can fit in concentric circles in the pan, with the wedges resting on the rounded side
3. As the butter and sugar melt and juices from the apples come out, the amount of liquid will increase and begin to bubble. Periodically rotate the apples together (to maintain the formation) to prevent the apples from sticking to the bottom of the pan. As the apple wedges shrink, add remaining pieces to fill in the empty spaces. Be careful that the sugar does not burn. The liquid should become thick and turn into a deep amber color. This process will take approximately one hour.
4. In between tending to the apples, roll out one of the discs of dough into a round piece large enough to cover the apples in the pan, about 1/4" thick. Refrigerate until ready to use.
5. Preheat the oven to 375F degrees.
6. Once step #3 is done, remove the pan from heat. Cover the apples in the pan with dough and tuck any excess along the edge around the apples.
7. Bake on the middle rack for about 40 minutes or until the crust is golden brown.
8. Remove the pan and allow to cool for no longer than 30 minutes. If it cools too much, the apples will stick to the pan.
9. Place a platter that's larger than 10" in diameter over the pan, and invert the tart on to the platter. The tart can rest for a few hours and be reheated in the oven.
10. Serve each slice with a dollop of creme fraiche.
David Lebovitz writes in The Sweet Life in Paris that every baker should have in his or her repertoire a tested chocolate cake recipe to call upon if caught in a bind. We don't need to live in Paris, as David does, to know that chocolate is universally loved. I know few who don't at least enjoy (if not love) chocolate--though I have one friend who says she doesn't like chocolate (imagine that, a woman who doesn't like chocolate), but when encountered with some pretty fabulous chocolate on a trip to Italy, even she returned to the shop for more. I think good chocolate can make a fan out of any of us.
I started trying a few different chocolate dessert recipes to find one that was quick, forgiving, and delivered praise-worthy results--the point of keeping such a chocolate cake recipe in your back pocket. But I also didn't want to rely on lava chocolate cakes, which, if I think about it too much, can sometimes feel like an underbaked chocolate cake (think undercooked eggs), and which doesn't share well once a knife is run through it because the batter oozes out into a puddle.
I found the recipe below on epicurious.com, where most of my recipes come from. David Lebovitz also has one in his book that requires a little more work (though not much), so I wanted to try this one first. Given the few ingredients in the recipe, the chocolate is certainly the centerpiece and makes it imperative that quality chocolate is used. Any chocolate dessert is going to be only as good as the quality of chocolate itself. For this, I used 65% cocoa content semisweet chocolate chips (to bypass the chopping step), which produced a rich, flavorful cake. There are some good quality chocolate chips available. And now that we are in the holiday season in full force, with Thanksgiving dinner just behind us and Christmas a month away, this chocolate cake recipe could be a life-saver.
Bittersweet Chocolate and Almond Cake
Adapted from epicurious.com
Serves about 10
Preheat oven to 325F degrees, and butter and flour (or use a baking non-stick spray) a 9" spring form pan.
1. Slowly melt in a heavy saucepan over low heat the following ingredients, and set aside:
- 12 oz. bittersweet or semisweet chocolate chips (most chocolate chip bags come in this size)
- 1 cup of unsalted butter (2 sticks)
2. Combine in a mixing bowl using a wire whisk:
- 1/2 cup almond flour
- 3 T. cake flour
- 1/4 t. salt
3. Mix together in a separate bowl:
- 5 large eggs
- 1-1/3 cups sugar
- 1/2 t. vanilla extract
- 1/2 t. almond extract
4. Fold the flour mixture in #2 into the eggs mixture in #3, then fold in the chocolate.
5. Pour batter into the spring form pan, and bake for about 55 minutes. The cake is done when the cake tester comes out with moist crumbs. Cool cake in pan, then remove and refrigerate.
6. Serve in slices, topped with whipped cream and toasted almond slices (I like to add berries, too).
I first set foot in London and Paris a number of years ago, as part of a celebratory trip (on a tour bus no less) to commemorate the conclusion of my schooling and my entry into "real" adulthood (making my own living and learning the true cost of mundane items like toilet paper). It was a rapid-fire tour, rushed from town to town, capped off on each end with London and Paris; but being fresh out of school, I was eager to see what was beyond university walls, even if it was from the seat of a tour bus mostly full of strangers. I could barely believe I was seeing it all up close and personal, and London and Paris lived up to all I had imagined it would be. I hadn't been back since, for various reasons, though I had always hoped to return some day, especially to Paris.
A few months ago, my sister called me to convince me to go on a trip with her since she had caught the travel bug. I was wary of taking a trip with her, given our travel philosophy differences (I like to plan and research, she's a bit of a "free spirit"; my idea of appreciating fine art includes the museum, she frequents the LV boutique). But an idea occurred to me that this might be a good opportunity to take Mom on a trip. I couldn't remember the last time we took a vacation together, so I told my sister I would go as long as Mom came. And with that, my sister booked a trip for the three of us to London and Paris, two cities Mom had never seen but had spent much of her life wishing to visit. London for the royalty (more recently inspired by the wedding of Will and Kate), and Paris for the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame and all they represented.
I met up with Mom and my sister at London's Heathrow airport, and my first image walking out of baggage claim was Mom slumped in a cold, hard airport chair, having fallen asleep while waiting for my flight to arrive. It was a long flight for her, and I had wondered how she would fare during the trip. We had seven days, and adjusting to the time difference might take a few nights for her. But she proved to be a trooper, and one of my favorite memories of her in London was when I took her on the Underground during rush hour to get to Buckingham Palace, her small steps barely keeping pace with mine and that of the rest of the masses. An outsider might feel pity for an aging (it's almost hard for me to say elderly) woman contending with the crowds on the subway, but I found it endearing in some strange way, as though it represented her struggle to do all she could as a mother to keep up with me and love me the way she knew how throughout her life.
I had my own ideas as to what I wanted to see and do during this trip, having visited London and Paris already--especially discovering patisseries (and eating loads of pastries) and indulging in a Parisian shopping experience. That didn't quite happen, and we spent our time (and Mom's limited amount of energy) going to well-traveled tourist spots, because I had to acknowledge that it was probably likely Mom would never return here again and I wanted her to see and experience in person those landmarks and sites she had only seen on TV or heard about from her friends. Tour guides and travel shows often turn their noses at the touristy things, but on this trip, I had a deep appreciation for staying on the beaten path, even if I'd been on it already. So we did our Big Bus tour of London, visited the Queen's apartments, followed our Beefeater tour guide around the Tower of London, posed in front of the Arc de Triomphe for pictures, relived court life at the Palace of Versailles, cruised the River Seine on the famed Bateaux Parisiens, and topped it all off with dinner on the Eiffel Tower. And all of it was wonderful.
It's been over a month now since our trip, and I'm putting the finishing touches on a photo book to give Mom when I see her next for Christmas. To any other person, my photos probably look like your average tourist shots, a little like postcards--nice enough but kind of uninspired. But as I look through them, they recall for me all of Mom's enthusiasm and excitement as she ogled Kate's wedding gown at Buckingham Palace, had the opportunity to say a prayer inside Notre Dame, and watched the Eiffel Tower light up and literally sparkle. One thing I was reminded of on this trip: there is no feeling like being able to make someone else happy. Years ago, Mom gave me the gift of taking my first trip abroad to a place I had only dreamed about. This year, I finally returned the favor--and got back more in return.
Today I'd like to talk about pies. I've been thinking about them for a while now--maybe on and off for a few months. I was flipping through a cookbook, and I came across a recipe for these, and they immediately brought me back to my childhood, when I would go to the grocery store with my mom and linger in the baked goods section, begging and pleading for a sweet treat. Sometimes the market would have sales on the Hostess fruit pies (or the supermarket brand equivalent, which was often cheaper--I couldn't taste the difference), and my mom would give in, and the moment we got home I would search through the grocery bags to find the pies and savor every bite. I may even like these hand-held versions better than the traditional large round pies, if only for the nostalgia. The crust wasn't flakey and buttery, but firmer with a sugary glaze on top. "Real fruit filling" meant pieces of fruit suspended in gelatinous, brightly colored, sickly sweet goo. But for the non-discriminating sweet tooth that I was, what did I care.
I saw them recently at Whole Foods. These perfectly shaped crescents, crimped at the edges, with cherry filling and a slight sheen. They looked delicious. I was inspired. I could recreate the childhood experience--and make them just slightly more wholesome and...refined. I bought the ingredients, but forgot the yeast for the pastry dough. Not feeling like going back to the store, I searched on-line for an alternative recipe and found one on food.com that didn't require a yeast-based crust. Perfect--or so I thought.
The dough turned out sticky and unwieldy, but I was determined to make it work by tweaking the flour proportions. Eventually I was able to get it to a consistency I could roll out to cut out circles, though it would stick to the fork when I used it to seal the edges. I had enough patience at that point to make only 9 small pies, and during the baking process, the juice from the blueberry filling oozed out of many of them. I felt defeated.
But biting into one did not disappoint. The crust was like a sugar cookie, and I liked it even better a day later, when it softened up so that it didn't break apart as I bit into it, holding the pie in my hungry hands. Some call them empanadas, buns, hand pies... Whatever they're called, and despite the little bit of extra labor (e.g. if working with defiant pastry dough), these pies are fun to eat, and even more fun to give out.
Blueberry Hand Pies
Crust recipe adapted from food.com, filling recipe adapted from Marcy Goldman's A Passion for Baking.
Makes approximately 18 pies
Line baking sheets with parchment paper, and preheat oven to 375F degrees.
1. Using a wire whisk, mix together in a bowl:
- 2-1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
- 1 t. baking powder
- 1/2 t. salt
2. Using a pastry hand-held mixer, blend in:
- 1/2 cup of butter, cut into cubes
3. Continue mixing in the following, using your hands to blend completely until the dough comes together:
- 2 T. yogurt (or sour cream)
- 1/4 cup milk
- 1/2 t. vanilla
- 1 egg
- 3/4 cup sugar
4. Form the dough into a round mass, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate the pastry dough for at least one hour.
5. While the dough is being chilled, cook over medium heat in a small saucepan:
- 2 cups of blueberries (fresh or frozen)
- 3/4 cup of sugar
- 1 t. cinnamon
- 1 T. water or lemon juice
6. Once the mixture in #5 begins to bubble, add the following, and cook for another 4 or 5 minutes, until the mixture thickens; allow filling to cool, then cover and refrigerate:
- 1 T. corn starch dissolved in 2 T. water
7. When ready to make the pies, break of pieces of dough to roll out at a time, keeping the rest of the pastry dough refrigerated. Roll out the dough using a rolling pin to 1/4 inch thickness, and cut out 5" circles. Spoon out about 1-1/2 T. of filling in the center of the circle, and fold the circle in half, sealing the edge with the tip of a fork. Poke the top of the crust with fork a few times to allow steam to escape.
8. Bake the pies for approximately 20 minutes, or until slightly golden brown. Sprinkle powdered sugar on top when ready to serve.
It's the first day of June, and I'm beginning to wonder if summer will ever come at all. Usually this time of year, I'm getting ready to bare my pasty legs and slather on the sunscreen and attend barbeques. Instead, today's high hit the mid-60s, and the forecast for the next couple of days include rain. I feel like a broken record each day as I lament the weather, hoping for sunshine and warmth. But they never come. Funny how I remember anticipating colder weather some months back, and that wish has certainly been fulfilled.
But what this enduring chilly weather also makes me think of is how we look for change as benchmarks in life. A change in season not only refers to the weather, but it can signify progress or growth, or maybe even putting things behind us in hopes of something new or better another day. The Byrds (I always thought it was the Beatles!) sing of it, taken literally from Chapter 3 of Ecclesiastes in the Bible, referring to different times for different phases in life, but, ultimately, the verses speak to God's goodness and gift of fulfillment to us as human beings, as every time has its purpose. As with some life seasons, I
continue to wait for change, a break in the weather, but I know
that there will likely be a day--probably some blazing hot summer day in the future--when I will long for a day like today.
I recently baked gougères as appetizers for a potluck gathering. I've wanted to try something from Julia Child, but many of her recipes require much preparation and time (and skill), though her directions are thorough and clear. These, however, were surprisingly easy and quick to make, since they are essentially savory pâte à choux, and her recipe yielded compliment-inducing results. Warm, cheesy, and flaky, they were like a little bit of sunshine in the midst of some drab weather.
Gougères
Adapted from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume 1
Makes approximately 30 1-1/2 inch puffs
Preheat oven to 425F degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.
1. Boil together in saucepan:
- 1 c. water
- 3/4 stick of unsalted butter (or 6 T.), cut in cubes
- 1 t. salt
- 1/8 t. pepper
- dash of ground nutmeg
2. Remove the saucepan from heat, and beat in the following with a wooden spoon:
- 3/4 c. unbleached all purpose flour
3. After flour has been incorporated, continue to beat the mixture over medium high heat for 1 or 2 minutes until the mixture becomes a mass and you see a film on the bottom of the saucepan.
4. Remove the saucepan from heat again, and hollow out the center of the mass. Add the following, one at a time, into the center and beat dough until the egg is incorporated. Repeat process for each egg.
- 4 large eggs
5. Add the following into the paste:
- 1 cup grated Swiss and/or gruyere cheese
- 1 T. finely chopped chives (optional)
6. Spoon 1 inch mounds, about 1-1/2 inches apart, on the baking sheet.
7. Brush each mound with a mixture of:
- 1 egg
- 1/2 t. water
8. Bake in oven for about 20 min. If baking two sheets at a time, rotate sheets halfway through the baking time. The gougeres should puff up, with a golden brown firm crust, when done. Can be served warm or at room temperature.
