Amicable Alimentations: Sticky Toffee Pudding & Friendships that Stick

The steamed pudding.

Amicable Alimentations: A series of posts with no predictable order or timing dedicated to a delicious food and the friend who most reminds me of it or inspired me to love it.  Here's the link to post number one, number two, number three, number four and this is post number five in the series.

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When you're facing life as an ex-pat, the natural tendency is to compare.  To compare the familiar, the presumed-correct, the "normal," with the unfamiliar or odd or inconvenient.  Living in the UK was baptism by fire in this regard, especially because it is deceptively convenient in the sense that the language is ostensibly the same (it's really not) and the outlook, that of "first world" or "ally" or whatever other politically and culturally-charged label has been hoisted on the UK from the other side of the Atlantic, similar (it's really not).

I'm an open-minded person, one who doesn't mind certain inconveniences if the pay-out is charm or beauty or leisure, or even education.  But I'm also highly intolerant of inefficiency, laziness, and lack of perspective.  Not a whole lot of things I saw and learned in the UK really stuck with me in the end, but many of my experiences and friendships did. 

Another thing that did stick - almost inevitably, as it was a rather sticky thing - was a love of steamed puddings, and Sticky Toffee Pudding in particular.  Steamed Puddings.  Yep - that sounds kinda gross to an American audience, doesn't it?  It makes me laugh.  The first time I heard of Suet Pudding I kind of gagged a little bit.  Beef fat pudding?  Literally, steamed lard pudding?  "What could be more disgusting?" said my inner-food-snob, dismissively.  I was wrong, of course.  It's delectable, especially in its' savory iteration.  And while I am indeed a professed lover of savory things, I must also admit that it was a sweet steamed pudding that fully won me over to steamed puddings in the end.  Well, that and the colorfully named "Spotted Dick" dessert which, however displeasing an image it may conjure - runny, creamy custard oozing all over its' brown spotted glory - is strangely delicious.  But we'll return to Spotted Dick in a moment.

I think I first had Sticky Toffee Pudding one very rainy June - our first in London, only weeks before our basement flat on Warwick Road was violently thrashed by an unexpected flood, at a restaurant in Kensington called Ffiona's.  My dear friend Sandra, whom I always think of as my "New York friend" (because really she was literally the only person outside my co-workers I hung out with in Manhattan), and her husband Jed had made the trek across the proverbial pond to visit us in the UK during what we erroneously called a "short relocation period" to Europe before heading back to New York. (We never returned to New York, of course, and we ended up staying in London for almost 4 years, but never mind the commonplace oddities of foiled life-plans.)
 

Ffiona's Charming Exterior on Kensington Church Street
Image Credit

I'd long-before noticed Ffiona's as it fell along the pleasant bus trip from Earl's Court to Notting Hill which we often made on the weekends.  It was located on a particularly picturesque and winding road through central London called Kensington Church Street, not far from an even more picturesque church where there was the most enticingly beautiful flower stand I'd ever seen and never went to.  That's a regret.  Anyway, it was tucked away in a small series of stone buildings and had a quirky sign.  It was one of hundreds of restaurants I'd pointed out to Matt and said "We should go there!" and never did.  Such is life in London - so many things to spend one's money on, and so little money to do it with!  And, yet, in this case - we did go to Ffiona's, and all because of something else rather sticky and wonderful - my friendship with Sandra.

You know, it's not often one finds a life-long friend, but I did when I met Sandra.  And despite only having lived in the same place as friends for a little over a year, we've shared some awesome experiences together, and, most of all, continue to.  From tapas' nights cooked in tiny Manhattan kitchens to Grey's Anatomy Marathons to drooling over Bacon Naan at Tabla to Greek feasts in her first home.  From karaoke in a sleazy French quarter bar to near-fisty-cuffs outside a fancy restaurant in Nola.  From my pregnancy with Roman to watching her adopt her beautiful twins to now sharing Alexander's adoption, our lives have been, it feels, somehow divinely intertwined.  I'm happy to be able to look back and say that.

The Cozy Interior.
Image Credit

But back to the pudding.  As luck would have it, Sandra's husband's parents had lived in London too.  They'd lived less than a mile from our flat in Earl's Court, in a beautiful mew (Adam & Eve Mew, if I recall correctly) on the much nicer, less dodgy end of Kensington Borough.  They'd recommended Ffiona's to us and were good friends with the namesake owner of the joint.  We went and had a lovely dinner there - mostly due to ambiance and company, I must say - which ended with Ffiona's "infamous" sticky toffee pudding.  It wasn't the best STP I've had since, but it was good enough to be memorable and make me want more.  Also on that trip, as Sandra recently reminded me, we made a feeble but valorous attempt at making Spotted Dick (because, again, who can an opportunity to continue making fun of that name?) in our damnable but somewhat-charming basement flat on Warwick Rd., which, quite frankly, was falling apart long before the July flood of 2007.  In the midst of checking on the pudding, our oven door literally fell off very nearly smashing onto my feet at 400 degrees.  It was, as Sandra put it, a little bit scary at the time, but pretty hilarious afterwards.  Moments like that, with good friends and in memorable places, make foods come to life.

And so I dedicate this post to Sandra and our many memories, food and not, one of which has left the legacy of Sticky Toffee Pudding in my life.  Sandrett will be coming to visit me and meet Alexander in a week's time, and I can't wait to have another delicious adventure with her here - including making some STP again.  Hopefully the oven door won't fall off this time, but even if it does, we'll laugh just as hard.

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English Sticky Toffee Pudding

Serves 8-10

I made this version of Sticky Toffee Pudding, the recipe for which I found on David Lebovtz's wonderful blog, and which is a derivatory version itself, being a variation on Mani Niall's version in the book Sweet!  I have to say, I deviated slightly on the tofee recipe as I, sadly, didn't have Lyle's Golden Syrup or Molasses.  And, also, I prefer to use a few more dates in mine (because I love dates).  This recipe has always been a winner for me - I think I made a toffee addict out of my brother-in-law Jim, for one thing - but I made it again a few weeks back and it worked a treat on the chill from a Mile-High Winter's day.  Best served warm. 

Cheers!

David Lebovitz's Sticky Toffee Pudding Recipe

Colorado Beauties: Summer Peach Pie with Vanilla & Cardamom

Summer Peach Pie - Oh my.

I started to write this post almost exactly a year ago.  A colleague of Matt's from London happens to own a house in the amazingly beautiful mountains of Western Colorado - in  Telluride to be exact - and he invited us for a weekend trip at the last minute.  Despite the long drive (6-7 hours), and the fact that we hadn't even finished unpacking our house completely, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see friends again and to also explore the other side of this beautiful Rocky Mountain state we had just moved to a month before.

I racked my brain for what I could bring with us as a gift to the hosts.  My eyes and hands had been wandering to the piles of Colorado peaches available at this time of year in the grocery stores, and so when I found a recipe for summer peach pie out of Bon Appetit - something I'd never tried - I was sold on the idea.  Luckily, I happened to also know that these particular friends of ours are as big of fans of dessert and pies as we are.  The recipe I found included cardamom which I felt was a nice shout-out to the Middle Eastern experiences we had all shared while Matt and co. worked at a Bahrain-based bank in London.  Perfect.

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View for the weekend.

The drive through Colorado was a sort of unexpected initiation into life in "the west": plains, mountains, forests, rivers and streams.  We saw much of the best of what Colorado has to offer in terms of scenery and ambiance, and felt ourselves thinking - hoping - that maybe, just maybe, this really could be our forever home.  Not just out of convenience and circumstance, but because we could see ourselves truly falling in love with it.

We wound our way up mountain roads, following the slightly-less-than-precise directions ("take a left at the third cattle crossing and then drive for a mile until you see the small wind turbine...") and getting lost in beautiful, verdent and whispery Aspen groves.  We passed an abandoned ranch where John Wayne's True Grit was filmed back in the day, listening to John Denver and snapping pictures of all the seemingly untouched, natural beauty.

The peach pie was a hit; and it turns out our friend is particularly fond of both peach pie and cardamom (which was quite a good thing, the latter being, admittedly, quite an acquired taste for Americans). 

Here's the recipe.  Take advantage of those August peaches.  They are a fleeting pleasure, but the sweetness does stay with you the rest of the year - much like that trip last summer has stayed with us.

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Summer Peach Pie with Vanilla & Cardamom

From Bon Appetit; found at Epicurious.com
Serves 6-8

Colorado Peaches

Ingredients 

2/3 cup plus 2 teaspoons sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces
3 tablespoons unbleached all purpose flour
1/3-1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
3 3/4 pounds firm but ripe unpeeled peaches, halved, pitted, each half cut into 4 slices (about 10 cups)
2 Best-Ever Pie Crust dough disks
2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Whipping cream (for glaze)
Vanilla ice cream (optional; to serve with it)

Method

Position rack in bottom third of oven and preheat to 400°F. 

Combine 2/3 cup sugar and vanilla bean in processor; blend until vanilla bean is very finely minced. Sift vanilla sugar through strainer into large bowl; discard any large bits in strainer. Mix flour and cardamom into vanilla sugar. Add peaches to flour-sugar mixture and toss gently to coat.

Roll out 1 pie crust disk on floured surface to 12-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter glass pie dish. Trim dough overhang to 1/2 inch. Spoon peach mixture into crust; dot with butter. Roll out second pie crust disk on lightly floured surface to 12-inch round. Drape dough over peach filling; trim overhang to 1 1/2 inches. Fold top and bottom edges under, pressing together to seal. Crimp edges decoratively. Using small sharp knife, cut 2-inch-long X in center of top crust to allow steam to escape. Brush crust lightly with whipping cream; sprinkle with remaining 2 teaspoons sugar.

Place pie on rimmed baking sheet. Bake until crust is golden, peaches are tender, and juices bubble thickly through cut in top crust, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Transfer pie to rack and cool until lukewarm, about 2 hours.

Serve pie warm or at room temperature with vanilla ice cream.

'Tis The Gift To Be Simple: Shaker (Meyer) Lemon Pie

Two glorious discoveries to share:

1. Shaker Lemon Pie is now in the running for my favorite pie of all-time.  Sorry, cherry.

2. I finally found my forever-pie-crust recipe.  The one I've been waiting for all these years. The flakiest, butteriest, best-est pie crust I've ever made.  It didn't come out perfectly this time because I used the wrong pie dish and sprayed butter on the top of my pie (do not do this!), but I know when done right it will be just what I want.  Thank you Smitten Kitchen and your pea-sized-butter-pieces-comment.  You have changed the way I make (and enjoy) crust forever. :)

And a belated Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone! 

St. Patrick's Day sneaks up on me every single year.  Matt is part-Irish so he always likes to celebrate.  We used to go to our favorite Irish Pub when we lived in New York.  These days, I tend to go home-made and buy the boil-it-yourself Corned Beef packet and make some cabbage, potatoes and carrots to go with.  This year, our Sunday night plans changed at the last minute and so we had to put-off St. Patrick's day until last night, Monday.  As an unplanned addition to my belated Irish meal, I remembered I had a bag of Meyer Lemons sitting in the fruit drawer that I'd been waiting to find the right recipe for.  Four lovely, yellow lemons, waiting to be made into something delicious.  What could be less Irish than four lovely Meyer lemons, right?

Well, that is when the English-Irish meal came together in a much-belated attempt to reconcile the two with no politics involved: Corned Beef & Cabagge and Shaker Lemon Pie for dessert.  Bold.  Very bold.

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Simple Gifts.

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come 'round right. 

Written by Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett in Alfred, Maine

Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, Summer 2012

The Shakers are a widely-forgotten, American Protestant sect whose leaders were originally descended from the English.  They are known for their simply, Puritan-esque way of life - and their lovely, austere furniture and wood-working.  As fortune would have it, when we were about to leave Maine, my watercolor teacher Charles insisted we go to the Shaker village in Kentucky on the epic drive over to Colorado.  He said it was pretty.  He said it was interesting.  But, most of all, he said the Shaker Lemon Pie would change my life.
So we went to Pleasant Hill.  And pleasant it was.

Shame about the pie.

 After one beautiful - nearly ethereal - evening and night in Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, among the buildings and farms of the Shakers, I've fallen in love with many aspects of the Kentucky Shaker way.  The awe-inspiring, spiral staircases.  The unique and unexpectedly beautiful combination of Shaker design and architecture with the rolling hills and high-white-fences of the Kentucky countryside.  The mindset that less is more - that simple gifts are life's real treasure.  It was such a beautiful surprise, that one little day with the Shakers.  I'd go back again, just to watch Roman walk down the dirt road towards the sunset.  But...I wouldn't go back for the food.

Sad to say, but since the essential disappearance of real Shakers in Pleasant Hill, the food and quality thereof has gone somewhat downhill.  I don't doubt that when Charles had the Shaker Lemon Pie it was every bit as delectable as he described it.  But when I had it, it was so painfully forgettable I was almost ashamed to admit to Charles I'd gone and had it, because I didn't want to tell him that it was no longer the pie of his yester-year dreams.


It was then that I made a mental note to try making some Shaker Lemon Pie myself by finding an authentic Shaker recipe and using the best ingredients I could find.  Enter the Meyer Lemons.

I learned the hard way a couple of years ago that too much citrus does-not-a-good-dessert-make.  I tried Nigella's Clementine Cake to get rid of the million cuties I had in my house and it was SO gross (and I almost never use that word to describe food) that I had to throw the whole thing out (a first for me, actually).

I was, therefore, wary of using the entire Meyer Lemon in the Shaker Lemon Pie.  But I did it anyway.  And, happily, the result was one of the most complex, delicious pies I've ever had.  Ever, ever, ever.  And despite all the warnings from cooks that the flavor might be slightly bitter and too "sophisticated" for a child to like, Roman ate his up greedily.

Did I mention I love my son? :)

Shaker Stairway; Shaker Lemons

So here's the winning recipe.  The texture finds itself halfway between Lemon curd and lemon custard.  The pieces of candied rind add slightly bitter-but-fruit-filled notes to each bite.  Try this at home when the Meyers come back out next year.

Verily, I say, 'tis one of life's simple gifts.

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Shaker (Meyer) Lemon Pie
Serves 6-8

if you're not greedy :)

The Shaker-like Non-Negotiables of This Here Pie:

1.  You MUST use Meyer Lemons.  Regular lemons will not do.  Too tart.  Too much pith.  The list goes on.

2. You MUST use a mandoline to slice the aforementioned Meyer Lemons.  Unless, of course, you are an accomplished sushi chef who can slice lemons paper-thin on a consistent basis.  And, let's face it, you're not.

3. You MUST let the lemons macerate for a WHOLE DAY.  Do not short-cut on this step.  I'm convinced this is what drew the bitterness out.  I cannot emphasize this enough.

4. You MUST respect this pie enough to make the amazing all-butter crust I mentioned above.  Follow the Smitten Kitchen recipe and process and pay particular attention to the fact that she leaves gigantic pieces of butter in-tact in her crust dough. DO NOT OVER CUT!

Ingredients
2 Meyer Lemons, thinly sliced with mandoline
(as thin as it will go); use the whole lemon!

2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp salt
4 Eggs
3 Tbsp flour (optional)
2 all-butter pie crusts (1 top, 1 bottom); chilled for at least 1-2 hours

Additional
Melted butter or egg-white to brush on top crust
Sugar for sprinkling on top

Method
1. Mix lemon slices (remove seeds) with the sugar and salt and set aside, covered, at room temperature for 24 hours.

2. Pre-heat oven to 425F

3. Roll-out your chilled crusts.  Drape the first over the pie dish with 1/2 inch overhang.

4. Mix the lemon mixture with the eggs and flour.  Pour into lined pie dish.

5. Drape top cover over.  Press crusts edges together to seal and crimp decoratively.

6. Slice top of pie for steam-venting purposes.

7. Glaze with butter or egg-white and sprinkle with sugar, if desired.

8. Bake for 25 minutes at 425F.  Reduce to 350F and bake for an additional 20-25 minutes.

Cool completely before serving.  Cheers!

Happy Valentine's Day Dammit: Milk Chocolate Soufflé for the Soul

Milk Chocolate Love

Some years Valentine's Day, in all its syrupy-sweet glory, is a natural extension of the fantasmagoric love-fest your life is.  Other years - like this one - it's just another snowy day in what was a pretty crap-tastic, cold, February week.  I sound bitter.  Here's why:

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Top 4 Crappy Things That Have Happened Lately

A Brief, self-thrown-pity-party-filled explanation in list-form

1. Two weeks ago I sprained my foot pretty badly by falling down two of the smallest, most-not-injury-worthy steps into the garage.  Roman was still strapped into his car seat and had to listen to me whimper and moan on the garage floor for several minutes (he was kind of freaking out) until I managed to hobble over and unstrap him.  Crutches, an air cast, ridiculous amounts of Ibuprofen, and two weeks later it's still refusing to fully heal.  I can't even walk up and down stairs comfortably, much less chase Roman or go skiing.  Such a pain.

2. A few days after the epic sprain, I discovered an epic-failure: our beloved pet, Frankie the Betta fish, has a severe case of dropsy and is currently in week # who-knows-how-long-it-took-me-to-notice of a long and inevitably drawn-out death.  I spent an afternoon looking up humane ways to euthanize fish - for which Matt made fun of me mercilessly - only to wuss out and settle on changing his water in order to "make him more comfortable" (whatever that means).  I literally wake up every morning expecting to find him floating upside down and I tell myself I worry because I'm afraid Roman will be upset, but really - it'll be me crying at the backyard funeral.

3. Earlier this week I gently (if that's possible) dropped my iPhone, the way I have a hundred other times.  Naturally, my decision to get the $3 silver-glitter-covered-cover decided to slap me in the face at that very moment and the front of the phone completely shattered.  As stupidly inane and ungrateful as it sounds to complain about, it just pisses me off to have to get a new one and tether myself a further 2-years to AT&T (which is, in and of itself, an irrational reaction as I had no intention of leaving AT&T).

4. Yesterday, I spent a lot of time making individualized Valentines and sprinkle-filled, pink, rice krispy treats painfully (literally) cut-out into heart shapes for Roman's entire pre-school class, only to be told by his teacher when I picked him up today that they "didn't have time to hand his Valentines out."  All this while Roman sweetly complained, "Mommy!  I didn't get to give my friends their treats." [Insert adorable pouty face by Roman and not-so-adorable annoyed face by Mom].

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Ok, ok, it's not that I don't want to celebrate.  Really, I just need something to remind me of the simple pleasures in life - breathe some warmth into the cold Denver winter, and even soothe my whiny little soul a tiny bit.  Something to show me the silver linings.

Lucky for me, Matt is cooking me a special, romantic dinner tonight.  I'm not sure what it will comprise of but I know this much: it will taste great!

I know this because dinner pretty much always tastes great when I'm being cooked for, but also because Matt so rarely cooks that I honestly believe God has bestowed him with some sort of permanent beginner's-luck-thing.  His food is always awesome - no matter how randomly or haphazardly prepared.

The only thing I'm responsible for tonight, besides this awesome Valentine's gift I found for Matt at Target, is dessert.  I wanted to make something special, kind of fancy, but not over the top in terms of work, time-commitment or flashiness.

Enter the Bon Appetit Milk Chocolate Soufflé.

There's something magical-sounding about the world soufflé - to "puff" or "blow up" (but prettier sounding) in French.  I think it will bring a fun but somewhat dramatic air to the closing of the dinner, without going too far into the realm of wannabe-chef.  I mean, how seriously can you take milk chocolate, even if it is gourmet and even if it is in a beautifully puffed up soufflé?
 
Which brings me back to the week-long pity party I've been holding for myself and the fact that I need to stop taking that - and myself - so seriously too.  So in the name of milk chocolate's levity, here are all the silver-linings to the above-mentioned Top 4 Crappy Things That Have Happened Lately:

The Silver Lingings

the milk-chocolate-y levity in the situation

1. The Ankle
I totally got pampered by both Matt and Roman for almost an entire week.  Roman learned that he can indeed use his stool to get the milk out of the fridge, and Matt learned that the house really does go to crap pretty quickly when the invisible cleaning fairy is out of commission :)

2. The Dropsy
Part of me believes that Frankie's demise might be karma coming to slap me in the face.  I'd been complaining a LOT lately that it's a lot of work to keep a large fishbowl clean.  I wouldn't be lying if I actually did briefly (ever-so-briefly!) wish Frankie might die soon.  So, in a way, even though it sucks to lose our only pet - I'm secretly pleased that I can de-clutter my counter and stop the bowl-cleaning madness for a while.

3. The iPhone
Oh yeah, I got an iPhone 5 today.  *sheepish grin*

4. The Rice Krispy Treats
I now know that the "raspberry" color combo on the back of neon food coloring is bullshit.  It turns an ugly mauve-y purple color.  Never again.  I also got to snack on the leftover, rather cute rice krispy hearts.  And for once, I rather enjoyed the sprinkles.

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Milk Chocolate Soufflé for the Soul

Using the Bon Appetit Recipe, copied below 

Makes 8 Servings

waiting to be baked

The original recipe also includes a Nougat whip to dollop on top of the soufflés.  It all seemed too rich for me so I didn't make the nougat whip and, instead, served this with plain homemade whipped cream.

Ingredients
12oz high-quality milk chocolate (such as Lindt, Green & Black, or Valrhona), choppedpped 
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream 
2 large egg yolks 
Pinch of salt 
6 large egg whites, room temperature 
2 tablespoons sugar
Butter & sugar for ramekins 

The finished product.

Method
1. Butter eight 3/4-cup soufflé dishes; sprinkle with sugar, tilting cups to coat completely and tapping out any excess. Arrange prepared soufflé dishes on large baking sheet.

2. Combine chocolate and cream in large metal bowl. Set bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water and stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.

3. Remove bowl from over water. Stir egg yolks and salt into chocolate mixture.

4. Using electric mixer, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add 2 tablespoons sugar, beating until semi-firm peaks form.

5. Using rubber spatula, fold 1/4 of beaten egg whites into chocolate mixture to lighten. Fold remaining egg whites into chocolate mixture in 2 additions.

6. Divide chocolate mixture among prepared soufflé dishes, filling dishes completely.  

DO AHEAD Can be made 2 days ahead. Refrigerate uncovered until cold, then cover and keep chilled.
  
7. Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 400°F. Bake soufflés on baking sheet until puffed and tops feel firm, about 16 minutes if at room temperature and about 18 minutes if chilled.

Serve soufflés immediately, passing whipped cream alongside.

 Happy Valentine's Day Dammit. :)

This post has been brought to you by How do you do - a freaky, fascinating, former #1 hit in the 70s that I'm obsessed with.   Thank you Mouth & MacNeal.

Forgettable Shrove Tuesday; Memorable Baked Pancakes.

In all its Shriven Glory.

 I always forget about Shrove Tuesday.  How could I not when it is so obviously overshadowed by the infinitely more exciting Mardi Gras and Carnival?  Who wouldn't prefer gorging on Cajun food or dancing in Rio to being "shriven?"  Even with Papa Ratzi resigning in a somewhat foreboding reminder of of the Lenten season being upon us, I can't help but want to celebrate, pull out the marks, have a last hurrah of sorts.

I also forget Shrove Tuesday because, as a more somber holy day, I tend to associate it with my time in England.  In England it's known as Pancake Day (see my brief classicized homage here) - a time to use up the larder's contents before the fasting of Lent.  "What better way than to make pancakes (or, technically, crepes in the case of Britain)?" said nobody, ever. :) 

Well, they're not gumbo, that's for sure (And I even had my act together and put a batch of my wonderful gumbo in the freezer for the occasion!).  And did I mention I even bought Roman a Mardi Gras mask!?  But the other day I received the random newsletter I still get from the lovely deli / gourmet food store I used to frequent in my London Days: Melrose & Morgan.  And in it was contained a recipe for something I'd never really tried before (gasp!): baked pancakes.


My curiosity was sufficiently stirred.  And since Matt is in Florida for most of the week (back in time to make me Valentine's Dinner though :)), I figured we'd go with pancakes for dinner tonight.  Roman was thrilled.  As was I - with the result, that is.

It's fitting that a British deli should post this recipe - the result is like a flatter, eggier, more crepe-y Yorkshire Pudding.  I loved it.  I'd recommend making more than one as Roman and I greedily split one together and I could easily have had more.  But then I'm a bit of a piggy.

This recipe comes from David Eyre and was published in the infamous Essential New York Times Cookbook from back in 1966.  Can't wait to get my hands on the 2011 reprint.
The recipe is currently featured on the Melrose & Morgan webpage, but I'll copy it below as I'm certain it will be gone soon enough as we move onto other exciting, seasonal goodies.

*  *  *

David Eyre's Baked Pancakes

Makes 1 large pancake (crepe) to share

I'd make more if I were you. :)

You'll note that the ingredients are also listed in grams and milliliters, as is the British custom.  I would take this moment to recommend that you use this as an opportunity to go out and buy a cheap but accurate kitchen scale.  Weighing ingredients in baking and pastry is something that should not be undervalued.  Significantly more accurate, therefore guaranteeing consistency over time.  Just my two cents. :)

Ingredients
80g (a little less than 1/2 cup) Plain flour
120ml (1/2 cup) of milk
2 eggs, lightly beaten
Freshly grated nutmeg (optional, but do it)
Pinch of salt
30g (2Tbsps) butter

For serving:
2 Tbsp icing sugar
Juice of half a lemon


Method

Preheat your oven to 425F (220C).

Mix all ingredients except butter, icing sugar and lemon juice in a bowl.  Do not over-mix.

Melt the butter in a 12-inch (or 10-inch, in a real pinch) pan.

Once melted, pour the batter and place in the oven for exactly 10-12 minutes (or until the edges are golden).

DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN until the time is up!


Sprinkle with icing sugar and lemon juice.  Serve warm with jam or maple syrup.

Yum.  I feel shriven. :)

Popsicle Adventures.

Shameless refreshment.

I love ice cream.  I love cake. But when it comes to hot weather, there's only one thing I want: a popsicle.  And while I have great love and respect for popsicles of the ice cream truck variety, or even the store-bought kind that you pull apart, that's not the kind of popsicle I truly crave on a hot summer day.  What I want is something homemade, and full of fresh, fruity flavor.  Matt doesn't like popsicles.  But I think that's because he's never had mine. :)

 

Raspberry, Lime & White Wine Popsicle for Mommy

In Mexico, Paletas are commonly sold in every neighborhood.  They are made from fresh fruit purees mixed with either water or cream.  I prefer the ones mixed with water and my favorite flavor is lime (though I have been known to dabble in the pineapple realm on occasion).  They are perfect on a hot day, but also hit the spot after a long walk or a day at the pool.  They are brightly colored, healthy and truly delish. 

Blueberries & Sliced Strawberries

So, what is the closest thing to paletas here in Maine? I came upon this blog entry and felt it was the perfect way to use the bountiful springtime berries of Maine and combine them with a Mexican Agua de Limon (click link for my recipe) for a fresher, wholer version of a Paleta.  It was an awesome success.  And as a special treat to myself, I also mixed some white wine into my popsicle. :)

My favorite part of this is that it is a super easy "cooking" project to do with a 3-year-old.  I set three containers of berries in front of Roman - raspberries, blueberries and sliced strawberries and let him pick which ones he wanted to put into each popsicle mold.  Then we poured the limeade in together and let the freezer do the rest.  Some were all blueberry.  Some were a combination.  But they were all yummy and very pretty to look at.  And they kept the Strawberry Monster happy, which is priceless.

  

Today after a long walk around Back Cove after school - during which Roman decided he was too tired to continue and threatened to mutiny - we were both so thankful those little guys were in the freezer waiting for us!  They were the reason Roman kept walking.  And once we'd kicked off our shoes and sat on the porch, everyone was all-smiles once again.  The giant bites of berry are SO much more delicious than any store-bought popsicle I've ever had.  

And the great thing is, the flavor combinations are endless.  Just chop up some fruit and make an agua fresca (method & recipe here) to go with it and you've got yourself the perfect hot-weather treat.  Here are some flavor combos I'd like to try, just to get your creative fresh-fruit-juices flowing:

Brenda's Future Fresh Fruit Popsicle Adventures

Hey, a girl can dream.

* Sliced Kiwi, Blueberry and Pineapple with Mango Agua Fresca *

* Watermelon chunks in Watermelon Agua Fresca *

* Melon balls in Melon Agua Fresca *

* Sliced Strawberries in Pineapple Agua Fresca *

* Blackberries in Lime Agua Fresca *

* Sliced Cherries in Lemonade *

* Pomegranate Seeds in Pomegranate-Strawberry Agua Fresca *

* Raspberries and Strawberries in Lime Margarita *

 * White Sangria Popsicles *

The Joy of Baking & Merrymaking: Christmas Cookies & Other Fun Traditions

I hate sugar cookies.  I always have and I always will.  They are dry and flavorless and I hate eating sprinkles in any form, which they are always inevitably drowned in.  But I love to make Sugar Cookies.  They epitomize so much about Christmas for me: the seasonal, the special, the almost-too-sweet but still-so-appealing.  And I remember so many Christmas seasons filled with them - cool Texas afternoons spent at the dining room table, our easy-bake-oven humming away, aprons tightly tied, red and green sugar sprinkles already scattered here there and everywhere despite the cookies and cakes not being ready.

This is the first Christmas season that Roman is old enough to understand a lot of the traditions we celebrate as a budding family.  He is filled with wonder, excitement and literally brimming with Christmas carols.  His favorites are "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (usually the Jackson Five version, incidentally), Frosty the Snowman, and Jingle Bells (which he just calls "Christmas" - as in, "let's sing Christmas").  We've been doing the Elf on the Shelf this year as well, and he named his elf "Finxy" - an awesome name for a 2 year-old to come up with; much to my dismay I was later reminded by Matt's uncle that the toilet-flushing cat on Meet the Fockers was called Finxy - oh great.

We like it, we like it.

We went and cut down our first ever natural tree at a Christmas tree farm here in Maine which was an amazing and beautiful adventure.  And I bought Roman his token cheap ceramic train ornament which he painted.  It still looks similarly muddy in color to the one from last year. :)

  All of this merrymaking is almost enough to make things like inevitable winter colds and snuffly noses, or the horrendous speeding ticket I got on Wednesday (my first ever!) forgettable, but I knew when despite all the cheer I started to get into a Grinchy-funk earlier this week that the only thing that could save me was a ridiculous amount of Christmas cookie baking.

Christmas cookies are such a wonderfully American thing.  Between my Bon Appetit subscription and Pinterest I have been bombarded with more recipes than I know what to do with.  In a brief moment of insanity, I flipped through my old issues of Olive (my British food magazine) to get more baking ideas but after pages of Mince Pies, Trifles and Sticky Toffee Puddings (and variations thereof), I realized - duh! - the British don't do cookies!  At best you might get some shortbread biscuits but none of the madness that you get stateside.  No snowflakes or snowmen or jammy sandwiches or hershey kiss toppings.  None of the little holly & berry sprinkles.  No Martha Stewart boxes.  So this year I decided to take a headlong dive back into American culture - just as much for Roman as for my own sanity - and bake several different cookies at once.  Not that I wanted to eat them or anything. :)

Here they are, in list form:

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My Christmas Cookies 2011

(So Far)

4. Biscotti Bars (a mess-up saved)

Every year I bake my jolly-good cranberry almond biscotti from Payard's dessert book that Matt gave me the night we got engaged.  They are a tradition.  And yet every single year I manage to kind of botch-up the dough.  Sometimes it's too wet, sometimes too dry.  There are SO few ingredients I almost don't know how I manage it, but I do. :)  Anyway, this year the dough was way too dry and WAY too chunky because I decided to add the pistachios that I usually omit, so I ended up with what I have dubbed "Biscotti Bars."  Huge and chunky as hell, they taste good but have none of the sliced finesse that you will find below at number 3.

3. My Cranberry Biscotti

These are my holiday tradition.  Not too sweet and not too savory.  They have the delicious anise seeds and tangy cranberries and slivered almonds (which I omitted this year because I was giving the as gifts to Roman's teachers).  They are great for dunking in tea, coffee or straight liqueur, depending on how good, bad or boring your Christmas was this year.

2. Deep Dark Chocolate Cookies

I found the recipe for these on Pinterest and I've been drooling over the picture for weeks now.  They weren't all that hard to make and came out as deep, dark and delicious as I guessed they would.  If I had to make them again, though, I'd cut the sugar by almost half (even more than the girl linked above who "adapted" the epicurious recipe).  

These cookies are for bonafide chocaholics only and must absolutely be had with milk, which is why they were very-well-received by Matt, me and the resident expert, Romolph.

1. Sugar Cookies

I made these cookies with Roman and they turned out so cute I can't stand it.  Not only is the entire process of baking and cookie-cutting a great exercise in coordination, precision and complete and utter self-expression through sprinkles, but Roman got more than a month's worth of sugar and raw cookie dough in one sitting, so he was happy. :)  I got the recipe from the Joy of Baking Christmas Cookie site - an invaluable online tool for limitless types of Christmas cookies with tested recipes.  I didn't get a chance to make my royal icing but to be honest, I'm more a sprinkler than I am an icer when it comes to Sugar Cookies.

Still to come: The Best Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever, Shortbread, & Profiteroles, if I'm feeling particularly nasty :)

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Happy Baking and Merry-Making!  Just a week to go!

Autumnal Cravings Indulged: Home-picked Dutch Apple Pie with Bacony Crumble

Apple picking is one of those things.  It's one of those things that is so basic and seems so unquestionably part of Fall that surely everyone must have done it at some point.  But I never had.  Despite knowing Johnny Appleseed's song by heart, and despite having eaten a Granny Smith in my lunch every day for the better part of my childhood, I had never picked an apple from a tree, really, until a few weeks ago.  That wrong had to be righted (word?!).  Luckily here in New England - it's the thing to do in the fall (pick apples? right wrongs? both.).  So when Roman's school put together a little child-parent apple-picking outing to a local family-run Cumberland Farm - Orchard Hill Farm -, we all jumped at the chance.

old-timey apple sorter

The farm itself was quaint as can be, with a little farm house full of freshly baked apple cider donuts, several varieties of other apple baked goods, souvenirs, old-timey toys and fresh apple cider.  They had an old fashioned apple sorter, pumpkins for sale, and bags to collect apples in for relatively cheap prices.  They also offered a fun hayride through the orchard pulled by a beautifully restored 1951 John Deere tractor.  The tour guide was one of their sons; he was hilarious with his monotone delivery of the orchard-history-apple-guide spiel and odd joke. 

keeping the doctor away

We all thoroughly enjoyed it, but especially Roman, who after 5 minutes of picking went straight into apple-devouring mode.  He would take one bite, drop the apple and run to the next tree, despite our efforts to stop him.  In the end he ate 3 whole apples on his own: "That should keep the doctor away for at least 3 days" said another parent. :)

The orchard boasted several types of apples: Granny Smith, Mcintosh, Cortland, Golden Delicious, Red Delicious and more.  I made sure to get a variety with a heavy emphasis on the Granny Smiths and Cortlands which make awesome pies.  And speaking of awesome apple pies, I made the best ever apple pie with our bountiful harvest, and here is the recipe along with some pictures of Roman's antics.

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Dutch Apple Pie with Bacony Crumble

Serves 6-8

I have now fully jumped on the bacon-in-dessert train.   And after this dessert, I am actually honking the horn and shoveling the coal too.  :)  There is bacon only in the special crumble that typically goes on top of a Dutch Apple Pie (as opposed to the double-crust American one), so you can easily omit it without sacrificing any flavor, but I say go for it.  If Decadence is your game, this apple pie is your new Game. 

I combined two recipes to make my pie adding bits and pieces of my own as I went along, so I owe them a mention: Dutch Apple Pie and Bacon Apple Pie.  I am also now toying with the idea of somehow involving cheddar cheese in the crumble - reminiscent of my cheesey apple cobbler.  Ah, how I love to combine savory and sweet!

Ingredients
1 homemade or pre-made crust for 9" pie pan:  

(great crust recipe with a cool trick here)

Apple Filling

(I always eyeball the spices so go with what you like)

4-5 cups of apples, chopped and peeled (half Granny Smith, half Mcintosh)
1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 tbsp cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground black pepper (semi-coarsely ground)

fruits of our labor

pinch of nutmeg

pinch of ground giner

pinch of allspice

1 ground clove (a small pinch)

1/4 salt 

1 tbsp all-purpose flour

1/2 cup heavy cream (optional)

3 tbsp butter

Crumble

6 strips applewood-smoked bacon (or whatever you have on hand), fried until crisp then chopped into small pieces

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 cup light brown sugar

Pinch of finely ground black pepper

1 stick unsalted butter, chilled and cut into ¼-inch cubes

Method

1. Preheat oven to 375F.  Roll out the crust into a 12-inch circle and loosely place on pie dish allowing a 1/2-inch overhang all around and trimming as necessary.  Crimp the edges decoratively.  Poke holes in the bottom and sides of the crust with a fork then place foil over it folding the edges over the edge of the crust for protection.  Then put baking beads or a smaller glass pie dish on top of the foil and bake the crust in lower part of the oven for about 20 minutes or until it looks light and dry in color.  Increase the temperature to 425F.

Note: you may have to bake it less time.  Keep an eye on it as you don't want the crust to brown or it will burn when you bake it with the filling and crumble.

2. Make the filling by combining all the ingredients except the cream and butter in a large bowl, tossing until well covered.  Then melt the butter in a saucepan and when the foaming has subsided, add the apples.  Cook covered for 10-15 minutes until tender and a caramel sauce starts to form.  Add the cream and bring to a boil uncovered and simmer until the sauce is reduced to a caramely thickness.  The granny smith apples will hold their shape while the mcintoshes will start to break down a little.  Remove from heat and set aside, allowing to cool.

3. Make the crumble by combining the flower and sugar in a bowl.  Next add the butter and use fingers or a pastry cutter to cut the two together until pea-sized crumbs form throughout.  Next add the chopped, cooled bacon to the mix, evenly combining.

4.  Pour the semi-cool apple mixture into the crust and spread out evenly.  Put the crumble mixture on top and bake at 425F for 10-20 minutes or until the topping and crust are golden brown.  If your crust starts to brown too much, use foil to cover the pie edges and continue baking.

Enjoy!  Pickers can be choosers :)