Martha, Martha, Martha; an addendum

You know a new cookbook is a good one when you find the excuse to bake twice in one week, just so you can try another recipe.

(As labelled in the book) Milk Chocolate cookies from Martha Stewart's Cookies. Thin and crisp at the edges but still tender at the middle, these cookies have just enough deep chocolate flavour to feel a treat but not overly-indulgent; a dangerous trait, to be sure. In my opinion the cookies I took out after about 11-12 minutes, rather than the recipe's instructed 15, were the perfect balance of chewy and crunch - but this is a matter of personal taste.

To read a full review of Martha’s latest cookbook, please see my previous post.

A spoonful of sugar

With our impending arrival well on its way, we are currently attempting to reiterate the importance of sharing to our first born. Though his universe has happily (and steadily) revolved around Ben for the past two years, we have come to the point when patience, respect and understanding are becoming part of our daily conversations.

I am terribly thankful for his gaggle of contemporaries who help him in his education. He has had to learn that not everyone plays with blocks in exactly the same way, that many little hands can create stories with the Little People and that cuddles can be given to cousins and friends - not just Mummies and Daddies. He has started to learn to take his time with those younger, to allow for the independence of those older, and to realize that he is not the only one who would like a cookie. He has seen that our lives are interconnected with those of others; we share our days and ourselves, as well as our toys.

Such is the case with our Valentine's Day festivities. Even though Sean and I will have our own evening out, the day itself is saved for the shared celebration of both the sweethearts in my life. Each bring me such happy contentment, Benjamin will see that instead of choosing just one (something I could never do), I would rather choose to spoil everyone. He will see that treats, consideration and hugs can be shared equally, and that there is as much joy in the giving as in the receiving.

A weeknight family dinner calls for a dessert that is special but does not take too much attention away from enjoying everyone's company. Nothing too elaborate or fussy, an offering as perfectly sweet as those gathered around the table.

This cake is dense and moist, with the fine texture of a pound cake. The richness of butter and cream cheese is underscored by mellow almond and luscious bits of white chocolate that only almost melt into the batter. Perfect on its own, sublime when topped with raspberry sauce, and decadently stodgy as the base of a midwinter trifle - it is sure to send more than one heart aflutter.

If one happens to have miniature tube or Bundt pans, this batter makes adorable little plated desserts; the perfect size for two, or in our case three, forks to share.

White chocolate almond cake
From a variety of inspirations.

Ingredients
Melted butter for greasing the pan
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
3 cups granulated sugar
6 large eggs, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
3 tablespoons milk
1/2 cup finely chopped white chocolate

Almond simple syrup (optional)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 teaspoon almond extract

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Using a pastry brush or kitchen towel, lightly coat a 10" tube pan with melted butter.

Sift together flour and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.

In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, or with an electric beater, cream together the softened butter, cream cheese and sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy. This will take about 5 minutes, being sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl periodically. Add the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides again and beating well after each addition. Beat in vanilla and almond extracts.

With the mixer on low, add the flour in two additions, alternating with the milk. Mix until just combined. With the mixer still on low (or with a rubber spatula), stir in the white chocolate. Pour the batter into the prepared pan, mounding the edges up slightly and leaving a bit of a furrow through the middle. Hit the pan against the counter to remove any trapped air bubbles.

While cake is baking, combine the water, sugar and almond extract in a small saucepan over low heat. Cook until the sugar is dissolved and the syrup becomes thick.

The cakes should be done after 75-85 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean and the top is golden brown. Allow to cool in pan, on a wire rack, for 10 minutes.

Turn the cake out onto the rack (see note) and, use a pastry brush to coat the cake entirely with the syrup. Allow to cool completely.

Notes:

• You will want to suspend the rack over a sheet pan to catch the excess glaze. A spoon can also be used to glaze the cake, but I prefer the finer finish a pastry brush offers.
• For a citrus variation, omit the almond extract and white chocolate from the cake. Add 1 teaspoon grated zest of your choice and one tablespoon of freshly-squeezed juice replaces the same amount of milk. For the syrup, omit the extract and substitute juice for the water.
• For a chocolate chip version, the white chocolate can be substituted with 3/4 cup bittersweet and the almond extract can be omitted (but this is not necessary). The syrup is made more of a glaze, substituting the extract with 1 teaspoon cocoa powder and boiling the mixture gently for 5 minutes. Spoon this over the top of the cake, allowing it to dribble down the sides.

An everyday sort of thing

I wish I could say that every dish I made had a fabulous backstory. Something compelling, or educational or even enticingly tempting. Heck, I would even settle for vaguely amusing sometimes. But sadly, that is not the case.

In truth, most of the dishes that reach our table do so out of a straightforward need to stop the grumbling of our bellies. And more often than not, there is an emotional whim attached.

Such was the case with the menus we have enjoyed this week. A bitterly cold spell and some particularly heavy workloads took their toll by Tuesday, by which time we found ourselves in need of sustenance of both the body and spirit. That afternoon I called my dear Mum, not only for a bit of cheer but also for her minestrone recipe - a dish I have not had for years.

Preparing it for Sean and Benjamin brought instant comfort. All it asked of me was some idle chopping, followed by lazy stirring now and again. Just the sort of demand I could handle. The pot gently simmered on the stove, filling the kitchen with a heady steam. A mere half-hour later we were rewarded with a hearty meal, all slurped up with a spoon. I had meant to take a photo but we were far too impatient to allow for such an interruption.

On Wednesday the mood continued, though we were buoyed by the meal the night before. In anticipation of another late evening for Sean I set about making one of his all-time, desert island desserts - a crumble. Without enough produce to make the preferred apple version, I nosed my way through our pantry to assemble this apple and mixed berry hybrid. The frozen berries, a direct violation of my commitment to eating seasonally, add a bit of brightness to a dreary month with their luxuriously velvet juices coating the apples beautifully.

My finished product was what I had hoped; a buttery crust that gave way to a filling more subtle in its sweetness than other versions, with just enough spice to add some resonant warmth. An offering that was everyday but just a bit special, and altogether satisfying.

I wish I could say that this dessert was ground-breakingly interesting, but it is not. It is simply familiar, uncomplicated and good. Sometimes, that is more than enough.

Apple and mixed berry crumble
My own recipe. As laziness is an integral part of comfort cooking, the version pictured used frozen berries and their juices; resulting in a luscious sort of fruit slump on the plate. If you prefer a less juicy version, defrost and drain the berries before adding to the filling.

Ingredients
1/2 pound cold butter (2 sticks), diced, plus more at room temperature for pan
2/3 cup blanched, sliced almonds
1/3 cup unsweetened flaked coconut
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 pounds tart baking apples, preferably Granny Smith, peeled, cored and cut into medium dice
1 1/2 pounds frozen berry mix, see note above
Juice and zest of 1/2 lemon
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/8 teaspoon ground ginger

Preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Lightly butter a 9"x13" baking dish and place this on a parchment-lined baking sheet.

In a large bowl, or in the bowl of a stand mixer with a paddle attachment, combine almonds, coconut, brown sugar, 1/4 teaspoon salt, oats and flours. Using a pastry cutter, or the mixer on its lowest speed, cut in 1 3/4 sticks (14 tablespoons) butter into the dry ingredients. When finished the mixture should resemble a coarse, uneven meal. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine apples, frozen berries, lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, cornstarch, spices and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt. Toss gently to combine well. Pour fruit mixture into prepared baking dish and dot with the reserved butter.

Sprinkle topping evenly over dish, leaving a bit of the fruit peaking out at edges. Bake for 55-60 minutes, until the filling is bubbling and the top is golden brown. Allow to stand 5-10 minutes before serving.

Recipe Notes:
• You may want to adjust the sugar depending on your taste and the sweetness of the fruit.
• The coconut is an addition I always enjoy for textural contrast, but is not essential.
• The spice measurements are an approximation of "one good pinch" of each. Again, adjust as you see fit.

Sidenote:
• I our house this is a crumble, but I do see that some would call it a crisp. What would call it?

The greatest gift, continued

Blackberry jam thumbprints have been a popular tradition for us. For further information on Menu for Hope 4, a worldwide list of prizes and full bidding details, please see yesterday's post.

I am a person who gets completely caught up in anticipation. I love the planning, the preparation and underlying sense of excitement that comes with any special occasion or event. There is a specific feeling to that time, a buoyancy of spirit that carries us through our days.

As one would assume then, this is the time of year that I hit my stride. November kicks off with a spate of family and friend birthdays, then leads into Diwali; December begins with more birthdays, rushes into the holidays and we are brought, breathless, to the New Year. Did I mention that we have five more birthdays to celebrate in January?

It is a blur of celebrations and smiles; a time when somewhere in between all the tinsel and merriment we take time to reflect on the greater gifts, the intangible ones, we have received throughout the year. I think it is this realization of how truly lucky I have been that gives me an extra push as we move through the season.

The lists are made, I am actually looking forward to wrapping, and the menu for our holiday meal is shaping up quite nicely. The last thing to do is probably my most treasured, and that is my holiday baking. After the five birthday cakes I have done in the last month, the switch to cookies marks a change of pace and a turn towards tradition. My offerings, for the most part, remain the same from year to year; half as a nod to the past and half in response to the requests of the recipients.

Today I am thrilled to add another name to my holiday list - yours. In support of this year's Menu for Hope campaign, I am offering a box of homemade goodies to the winning bidder. I will provide you with a list of treats, both savoury and sweet, and the choice is yours. And if you are extra nice, I may throw in an extra surprise or two. Shipping will be included, unless restricted by law.

Bidding may only give you a chance at winning, but it guarantees a little bit of joy to someone in need this holiday season. What is more worthy of celebration than that?

To bid, go to Firstgiving; the code for this prize is CA02.

Baking, Sunday style

After weeks of a heat that turned once-lush lawns to straw, this past Sunday dawned misty and gray. A constant drizzle pattered its way through the leaves, and the mercifully cool air smelled of damp earth.

It was a day to spend indoors, in the comfortable routine of business about the house, getting bits and pieces in order and lazily flipping through the weekend newspapers. By far, my favourite sort of day.

As far as food went, our menu was decided by consensus - following only our inclinations without worry of schedules or agenda. Immediate and extended family members stopped by for a cup of of tea, a chat or general diversion.

Some time in the early afternoon I caught wind of collected whispers, mentioned cravings for something as a snack, a cake perhaps. Nothing decadent, just a nibble of something a bit sweet.

Banana bread; this old fashioned loaf seemed the perfect fit for a rain-soaked Sunday afternoon. Studded with moist chunks of banana, their richness undercut by the acid twang of yogurt, this was the sort of loaf that sits on the counter with a knife nearby. For the remainder of the day we snacked, coming back for another slice, another crumb, whenever temptation arose.

Yogurt banana bread
This recipe yields a meltingly moist loaf with a cake-like texture. However it may look though, do not be fooled. This bread is not the overly sweet, dessert variety. The perfect partner to coffee, it is much more subtle in its charm.

Ingredients
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3 large, ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 cup well-drained yogurt (see note)
4 1/2 ounces unsalted butter at room temperature, plus more for greasing the pan
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup firmly-packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly butter a standard, 9"x5"x3" loaf pan.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, salt, baking powder and spices.

In another bowl, mix the yogurt and banana together until well blended. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the butter and sugar on medium speed, scraping down the sides of the bowl, until light and fluffy. It should take 3 to 4 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, with the mixer on medium speed and beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla and beat to combine.

Add half the flour mixture to the butter, beating on medium-low until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add the bananas and sour cream, beating until distributed. Add in the remaining flour, still stirring on medium-low until just combined. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan.

Bake in a preheated oven for about 1 hour and 10-15 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean the bread pulls away from the side of the pan. Cool in tin for 10 minutes, then turn out to a rack to cool completely.

Makes 1 loaf.

Notes:

• I used well-drained 1% yogurt.
• For the loaf pictured, the pan was the darker metal kind. For that reason, I reduced the oven temperature by about 15 degrees F to keep the exterior tender and golden. If this is the case with yours, you may need to adjust the cooking time accordingly.

Dear Mr. Truant Officer*

*Please see recipe added below.

Once these, the long legged days of August saunter in, I find it impossible to focus on anything other than gallivanting about. But who can blame me? With peach festivals, Rotary-sponosed rib cookoffs, world-class food fairs, you can understand my distraction.

Case in point. When you find yourself making espresso-laced versions of (almost kitch) molten lava cakes, for the simple reason that it is Tuesday night and it is a gorgeously cool evening, you know that you are lost.

Though my school days are a distant memory, my thoughts have turned towards notions of holidays and diversion, of idle pastimes and fleeting pleasures. But lest you think I have abandoned all thoughts of responsibility, I shall be taking you all along with me on a little field trip to St. Jacobs later this week. We will wander through aisles upon aisles of antiques, take a gander at local artisans and gather up armfuls of gorgeous produce, baked goods and specialty meats from the farmer's market.

My apologies for my absence, but please don't turn me in.



Espresso and chocolate fondants
My variation of theserecipes.

Ingredients
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pots
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped
2 eggs
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup caster sugar
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Grease 4 x 150ml ramekins with butter (see note).

In a double boiler, or a bowl placed over a pan of just simmering water, melt the butter and chocolates together. Stir to ensure even and gentle melting of the chocolate; when just melted, remove from the heat and set aside to cool.

Meanwhile in a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, espresso, vanilla and sugar until the mixture becomes thick and slightly pale in colour. Add the cooled chocolate, whisking to blend well. Finally, stir in the flour until just combined.

Divide the batter among the prepared ramekins; bake on a baking sheet for 17-20 minutes, or until the tops are crevassed and cracked while the oozing underneath. Cool only for a moment and serve hot.

Notes:

• I use these little 150ml pots that I'm terribly fond of as the cakes will soufflé up just a bit and offer a charmingly springy top. However, you can also use a slightly larger ramekin (though I would not go larger than 250ml or 1 cup) for a denser, more deeply cracked fondant.

SHF #31: The roundup

Whew. When I was first approached by Jennifer to host this month’s Sugar High Friday, I approached it with nervous optimism. Everyone’s had that feeling, that illogical fear of “what would happen if I threw a party, and nobody came?”

Thank goodness for food bloggers. I did not expect, and could not have hoped for, a more enthusiastic and supportive group of contributors to this month’s event. From the dramatic to the sublime, these desserts celebrating the shades of white run the spectrum. 45 entries from around the world, are all delicious variations on the theme. What a party!

Again, my gratitude to those who participated, and those of you who have come by to see the results of our little event. Cheers to Jennifer, once again of the Domestic Goddess, who will be the host of next month’s SHF installment. It will be a confectionery celebration of Canada’s 140th birthday on July 1st - look out for the announcement and details on her site.

And with that, on to the desserts; click the photos to link to the author's site ...

SHF #31: A belated Mother's Day, in shades of white on white

It is always difficult when one is faced with the dilemma of following ambition or sentiment. Do you go with your aspirations, or do you follow your heart?

When considering my entry for this month’s Sugar High Friday, I ran into that exact puzzle.

On the one hand, I was inspired to try something challenging - something a bit avant garde and terribly, terribly chic. I envisioned a multi-component dessert, gorgeous and elegant, along the lines of the creations of Pierre Hermé or Thomas Keller.

Reining in my enthusiasm, I stopped to focus my thoughts. When thinking of white, what was my first impulse? Without question, the answer was clear - coconut. And whenever I think coconut, thoughts of my dear Mum are never far behind.

For as long as I can remember, my Mum has loved coconut. Even though she’s not known for indulgence, I automatically associate her with those coconut-filled bonbons that are part of any box of assorted chocolates. Coconut macaroons, there's another favourite.

The more I thought, the more I realized my Mother’s coincidental fondness for pale-coloured ingredients. Meringues, pavlovas, custards ... all are sweets high on her list. In fact, whenever she comes across any dessert involving meringue or coconut in my cookbooks, the recipe is usually met with a sigh of appreciation.

With that in mind, I decided that for my entry I would make something for my Mum.

And so my conundrum. My Mother is direct in her likes. She is one that favours a laden table with family and friends over a plated meal any day. She hosts with thoughts of bounty and abundance, of making sure that everyone is fully taken care of. Between her and my Father, I would be hard-pressed to think of an occasion when I have left their house hungry.

A dessert that was twee or over-styled seemed inappropriate for her. Something simple, but pretty, and utterly delicious; that was surely the route to choose. Heart won out over headstrong ideas of culinary feats, and a coconut cake was where I settled.

Buttery, tender and (somewhat suprisingly) not too sweet, this cake is traditional home baking at its best. Far from the cellular sponginess of a boxed cake, the texture is toothsome with shredded coconut. The filling, not called for in the original recipe, is from Martha Stewart. It is a thick but not a cloying curd, studded with even more coconut strands and adding a welcome custard blanket over the layers. I chose a Swiss meringue buttercream for its marshmallow richness that is dense, but still light to the tongue.

This entry truly became a family affair. Many thanks to my nephews, one who particularly loves coconut, for gobbling up the result of my work. And my gratitude goes to my brother for taking two of the photographs featured.



Old-fashioned coconut layer cake
Ina Garten's variation on the famous coconut cupcakes from her Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. I've added a coconut cream filling and chosen a Swiss meringue buttercream for the frosting.

Recipe
Coconut cream filling
1/2 batch Swiss meringue buttercream
150 grams flaked coconut

Notes:
• I split the cake into four layers. This cake is rather delicate and crumbly with all the shredded coconut; take particular care when cutting and assembling the layers.
• For the cake, I substituted 1/2 cup unsweetened coconut milk and 1/2 cup sour cream for the regular milk called for. I also substituted 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of cake flour, for 1 cup of the all-purpose flour, for added whiteness of the final crumb.
• I cut down the almond extract, as I felt it overshadowed the more delicate vanilla and coconut.
• For the cream filling, I substituted 1 cup unsweetened coconut milk for the regular milk called for.

SHF #31: A reminder

Next week is the deadline for contributions to the latest installment of Sugar High Friday; desserts with the theme Shades of White. Full details here or simply see below. I am planning something with mountains of meringue, coconut and cream. I hope you are all similarly inspired.

SHF #31: Neutral territory

Ahh, the changing personality of white.

The milkiest tones are soothing and fresh, while the chalkiest are stark and dramatic. The slightest shades of suggested colour bring moodiness and depth. It can be the quality of light on a blisteringly hot summer’s day, or the muffled whiteness of a snow-covered landscape. Almond, cream, malt, vanilla, buttercream; all not only evocative colours, but flavours as well.

With this tempting palette in mind, I am happy to announce Shades of White as the theme for this month’s Sugar High Friday, the dessert-based food blogging event created by Jennifer of Domestic Goddess fame.

Participation is simple; make a dessert featuring your chosen hue of white. Anything from the palest of champagne ices to frothy zabaglione to the barest tan of hazelnut cookies. Or let the character of form inspire; are you drawn to the simple elegance of blancmange, or the childhood taste of marshmallow, or the towering excess of a meringue crowned pie? The possibilities are endless.

Then, let us know about your culinary artistry, maybe explaining why you chose this dessert or what you liked about its particular shade. I will post a roundup here, so we can compare notes.

Here’s how it goes.

1. Sugar High Friday #31 roundup will be posted on Friday, May 25, 2007.

2. Please post your recipe on your site on Monday, May 21st, then email me by Noon EST Wednesday, May 23, 2007. Be sure to include your name, your blog name, your location, the recipe name and a permalink URL to the story. If possible, please provide a 100 x 100 pixel photo of your masterpiece, so I can include it in the gallery for the roundup. For ease of organization, please label the image file the same as the name of the dessert.

3. If you do not have a blog, please feel free to post your thoughts, ideas or feedback in the comments section of the Sugar High Friday posts. If you have a longer comment, you can also email me, and I will include your entry in the roundup.

One last thing, a plea - this is my first time hosting a food-blogging event. So be nice to the newbie! I hope you find the theme inspiring; I invite everyone to join.

Getting to know you

Seven years ago Sean gave me one of my most treasured possessions. It was my birthday, and he had found a copy of the out-of-print, rather unknown, favourite book of my childhood.

Whereas my original copy had long ago lost whole sections out of overuse, this new copy was pristine perfection; the story intact and whole again.

Flipping through the pages, my enthusiasm for a tale of little mice and their adventures to a faraway land came rushing back. With the glee of a six-year-old, I pointed out the illustrations that had inspired me the most, explained to him the nuances of each character and hugged the book like the long-lost friend it was.

What made this gift all the more special, was that Sean and I had not known each other in childhood. It was only through my mentioning the book that he realized the importance to me. Having it now was a window to that youth, an opportunity for him to know the girl I had been.

Lucky for me, we have many ‘relics’ of Sean’s early years - our son Benjamin now plays with some of the same toys and is even measured on the same growth chart against which his father stood tall. But beyond all these, one of the most meaningful of legacies are the recipes I have been given by his family.

Whether it be the cheesy pasta salad that appears at every family gathering, or the apple cake that heralds fall, or Grandma's famous (and decadent) butter tarts, each of these recipes is inextricably tied to memories from the family I now call my own. Though unshared by me, I feel a part of those reminisces with each bite, and hopefully in the future, with each time I serve them.

Munching on a bakery-bought cookie a few days ago, I came to think of the recipe for Oatmeal Date Cookies from my dear Mother-in-Law. Passed down from her mother, it was the recipe noted with the scribble “Sean’s favourite” in the margins of their church’s fundraising cookbook.

Chewy, fat and unapologetically old-fashioned, these are the stuff of cookie-jar glory. I have dressed them up a bit with shards of almond butter toffee and chocolate chips; but that was just my mood that day. These are the perfect canvas for whatever strikes your fancy - white chocolate and dried cherries, perhaps? It doesn't matter the specific flavours of your childhood, as long as you remember to visit them once in a while.

Almond toffee oatmeal cookies
My own variation, based upon a recipe by my husband's maternal grandmother. They may look like your typical oatmeal cookies, but the salted toffee adds and unexpected depth of buttery flavour. I prefer some of the toffee pieces on the smaller side, so they melt into the batter when baking.

Ingredients

For the almond butter toffee
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/4 cup unsalted butter
2 tablespoons water
1/8-1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup flaked almonds

For the cookies
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup firmly-packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons dark corn syrup, golden syrup, honey or maple syrup
1 egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup chocolate chips
1 batch almond butter toffee, crushed into bits

To make the almond butter toffee

Grease a half sheet pan (13"x18") or cookie sheet.

Combine all ingredients, except the almonds, in a small, heavy bottomed saucepan. Over medium heat, stir until the butter is melted. Reduce the heat to medium-low and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until a candy thermometer reaches 300ºF (150ºC). This will take about 25-30 minutes. If you do not have a candy thermometer, carefully drip a small amount of the sugar mixture into a cup of cold water; if it has reached the right temperature it will collect into a hard ball.

Meanwhile, in a skillet over medium-high heat, spread the almonds in a single layer. Toss the nuts occasionally to prevent scorching. Once they are light toasted brown and aromatic, remove from pan and set aside.

Mix nuts into butter toffee mixture. Working quickly, spread the toffee over the prepared half sheet pan in a thin layer. It will not fill the entire pan. Set aside to cool completely.

When cooled, break the toffee into irregular bits. I find it easiest to put pieces into a large, loosely sealed food storage bag and pounding the toffee into submission with the bottom of a skillet. You should end up with about 3/4 cup of nubby gravel.


For the cookies

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer, cream together the butter, brown sugar and corn syrup until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed. Add the egg, beating well. Mix in vanilla.

With mixer on low speed, add flour mixture and mix until just incorporated. Using a rubber spatula or wooden spoon, stir in the oatmeal, chocolate chips and crushed toffee.

Drop 2 tablespoons of dough into mounds (I use a disher that is 1 1/2” across) onto parchment or silpat lined cookie sheets. Space mounds about 2 inches apart. Bake until lightly golden around the edges, but not crisp, about 10-12 minutes.

Cool on sheets for 5 minutes; transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Makes 2 dozen.

Notes:
• If anyone would like Sean’s Grandmother’s original recipe for Oatmeal Date Cookies, please leave a comment to that effect; I would be happy to oblige.
• Due to the buttery toffee, these cookies will melt and spread while baking. If you would like to reshape them, take a wide glass or bowl and swirl the slightly cooled (maybe after 10-15 seconds out of the oven) cookies in a circle. The edges will collect together neatly, as pictured.

Chocolate and charity; a sweet pairing

I am sure that anyone who hears about my endeavours in the kitchen would assume that I have one heck of a sweet tooth. And, really, I would be hard pressed to provide evidence to the contrary.

However, what one may not realize is that rarely do I truly overindulge in the confections that I so frequently describe; those are most often destined for family and friends, celebrations and gifts.

Of course I nibble here and there, but those who know me best know that my true achilles heel is ice cream; not surprisingly, my predilection of choice is most often in the form of chocolate.

Last evening I was looking for frozen creamy goodness - but sadly, my freezer was unexpectedly bare. Though my dear Sean would have been willing to retrieve my treat, it was a chilly night and I could not bear ask him to leave the warmth of our home (or namely, the comfort of the couch). I could have gone, but when faced with the option of going out in the cold, dark night or staying in my slippers and pottering about the kitchen, there is no contest.

With the Mixer out of commission, and me lacking the drive to do much more than stir, I had only one option: brownies. Fudgy and dense, satisfyingly decadent but uncommonly simple to make.

As luck would have it, I recently stumbled upon Jamie Oliver’s brownie recipe. The photo depicted what was surely the solution to my Monday doldrums. Nothing looked airy and light about these squares - they looked meltingly decadent, just the way I prefer a brownie.

After a modest amount of effort, we were rewarded with the smell of chocolate warming in the oven. Even my dear Sean, from the depths of the couch, was pressed to inquire "when will those be ready?" Gooey from the oven, these brownies made for stickey fingers and ebony-stained grins. The doldrums were a distant memory.

While not a pint of Häagen Dazs, sometimes a brownie will more than suffice.

Jamie Oliver’s bloomin’ brilliant brownies
Unctuous chocolate, tenuously bound by flour; they are more truffle than cake, bordering on a confection. This recipe is featured in Jamie's Little Book of Big Treats in support of Comic Relief.

Recipe

Notes:
• I opted to omit any add-ins (dried cherries, nuts). While I am sure that they would be delicious, I wanted nothing more than uniterrupted cocoa.
• I cannot bake anything with chocolate without a dash of vanilla extract and a bit of espresso powder. To my palate, they add a depth of flavour and make the chocolate more chocolatey. I added these, along with a pinch of salt, to the melted chocolate and butter mixture.
• When making brownies, the key to fudgy perfection is stirring the batter as little as possible once the flour has been added. With this in mind, I opted to add the eggs to the chocolate mixture first, rather than following the flour as indicated in the recipe.
• I only had a 9”x9” pan, rather than the 10” (25 cm) called for. The cooking time was increased to about 35 minutes (a 10 minute increase), but keep an eye on them after 25 minutes.

Please note, I have been establishing tags for archived posts. My apologies if this causes any confusion.

The handy pantry; secrets to my success

I tell you, I feel for ducks; all is calm above water, but below feet are paddling madly. That about describes how I feel some days.

As you may have heard, I've been busy these last seven weeks. A particularly life-changing event, in the form of a perfect little bundle of boy, has taken up most of my energies. Energies formerly used for things like wandering markets aimlessly, or going out for a coffee and a chat or, on some days, brushing my hair. Not that I'm complaining - my days are filled with much more worthwhile endeavours; endeavours that bring me boundless joy.

But come on now, its not all puppy dogs and butterflies and all things lovely; there still are those times when it is the end of the day and you have to get dinner on the table.

I know I've touched upon it before, but a well-stocked pantry can be a lifesaver. I consider mine my bag of tricks, full of my go-to solutions for easy meals, last minute entertaining options and perennial favourites.

I remember when I had my first apartment, I was so excited about setting up my kitchen. I spent hours scouring cookbooks and the internet for ideas on what to stock in my pantry. I looked at the way I cooked, the way I lived and, most importantly, the tastes I crave. I used these ideas, and some trial and error, to come up with my list of essentials - my desert-island kitchen kit.

My dear Sean laughed the first time he saw my grocery database I've made - a master list of the foods I always like to have on hand, ready to be printed out at a moment’s notice. Though maybe not everyone is as type A as I am, I'm sure most have at least a mental list of those ingredients that they would rather never be without.

There are the usual suspects; pastas, rices, vinegars, oils, canned goods and dried herbs and spices. My baking pantry has jars filled with dried fruits, sugars, toffee chips and all manners of chocolates.

I have also learned to treat my refrigerator and freezer as an extension of my pantry staples. Fresh herbs, lemons and limes, chilies and cheeses can elevate a typical meal into something special. Frozen stocks add a depth of flavour to a quickly-assembled meal. Prepared puff pastry, phyllo dough, shortcrust pastry and a best-quality vanilla ice cream mean that a dessert is never too far away.

My latest addition to my little inventory has been frozen fruit, especially berries. Perfect for not only smoothies and frozen cocktails, but also for sauces, pies and cakes. These little jewels bring a dose of summertime sweetness to the grey days of March. In truth, I rely on them year-round.

This last weekend, with family and friends visiting, it was a luxury to feel at the ready for hostessing ... even though we had not been to the grocery store in days. With my secret stash I was able to welcome them with open arms and a full table - the highlight of which was this berry cake. Rich with a cream cheese pound cake base and topped with luscious berries and a coconut almond streusel, I won rave reviews. Thank goodness for good planning and a full pantry.

Am I busy? Yes. Do I feel stressed? No - it’s all like water off a duck’s back.

Favourite Berry Cake
My own creation

Ingredients
For the cake
1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) butter, softened
1 (8 ounce) block of cream cheese, softened
3 cups sugar
6 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3 cups flour
2 teaspoons salt

For the topping
2 to 21/2 cups berries, depending on your choice of mix
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup blanched sliced almonds
1/3 cup flaked coconut, use sweetened or unsweetened - your preference
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Additional butter for greasing pans

If you would like to make the miniature version pictured, grease 8 four-inch round spingform pans and preheat the oven to 325°F (160°C). If baking one large cake, generously grease a 8-inch round springform pan and preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

Make the crumble topping first. In a small bowl, stir together the flour, brown sugar, almonds and flaked coconut. Using your fingers or a pastry cutter, cut in the cold butter until a coarse crumb forms. Set aside in the refrigerator while you assemble the cake.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream together the butter and cream cheese until smooth. Add the sugar and beat until light and fluffy, scraping down the sides of the bowl to make sure all the ingredients are well incorporated. Take your time at this step, allowing about five minutes.

Add the eggs, one at a time; beat well after each addition. Mix in vanilla.

In a bowl, sift together flour and salt. With the mixer on low, add the flour to the batter. Mix until just combined and smooth. Pour batter into prepared pans, and sprinkle over berries. Finish with the chilled crumb topping and bake.

For the miniature versions, they will be done after about 50-60 minutes, when they should be a pale golden brown and a cake tester comes out almost clean (there may be a tiny amount of clinging moisture). For the larger version, it will take about 75 minutes.

Allow to cool in the pan, on a wire rack, for 20 minutes. Unmould and allow to cool completely.

Notes:
• I use a full-fat (regular) cream cheese for this cake. I have not tried it with a reduced fat variety.
• Alternatively, you can also make this cake in two 8 1/2-by-4 1/2-by-2 1/2-inch loaf pans. Bake at 350°F for about 60-75 minutes.
• There are no leaveners in this cake; all of its rise comes from the amount of air beaten into the batter with the creaming process and the addition of the eggs. Take care at these steps to ensure a dense,yet well-formed, crumb.
• If the kitchen is particularly warm, you might want to keep the topping in the freezer until ready to use.
• If the cake browns too quickly, tent with aluminium foil.

My apologies. This recipe was initially published with a typo - the springform pan is meant to be an 8" instead of a 9" as orginally listed.

A sincere thank you to all of you who have written with your well wishes for the three of us. We are terribly happy and cannot express our gratitude for all the support we have received. I am sorry that I have not been able to respond personally to everyone, but please know that we are humbled by your generosity and kindness. All the best to you and yours.

Plain January Jane

The grey days of January have settled in, and I’m just about ready to wrap myself up in flannel, hunker down and coast my way through the rest of the month. I’m in no mood for fancy; I want goose down, cuddly sweaters and angora socks.

On that same note, there are foods that fit this mood. Without fanfare, they routinely deliver. Simple and to the point, these wallflowers of the recipe file are perennial favourites, but not always the life of the party.

Such is the case with these muffins. Reasonably healthy and utterly flavourful, they offer up a great sense of accomplishment after only a modest amount of effort. Truly, if you can produce warm baked goods in less than 10 minutes of prep time, do you not feel rather smart? I say, all the more time to spend cozied up with that goose down.

While some plans may prevent me from participating, I encourage everyone to check out Sugar Low Friday, hosted by the ever-fab Sam of Becks & Posh. The one-time event will be held on January 27, 2006, details to be found through the link.

Banana-Cranberry Bran Muffins

Ingredients
1 1/4 cups (300 ml) unbleached all-purpose flour (you can also use whole wheat)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt (2.5 ml)
1/4 cup canola or vegetable oil
1/3 cup honey or granulated sugar (or up to 1/2 cup if you prefer sweeter and depending on the bananas)
1 egg
1 cup (250 ml) milk
2 ripe bananas, mashed
1 1/2 cups (375 ml) flaked bran cereal
1/2 cup (125 ml) dried cranberries

Preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Lightly grease a 12 cup muffin tin, or line with cupcake liners.

In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt.

In another bowl, whisk together egg, honey or sugar, egg, milk and bananas. Stir in cereal. Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just blended. Stir in cranberries. Divide evenly among prepared muffin cups.

Bake for 20 minutes, until a tester inserted in the centre of a muffin comes out clean. Leave muffins in tin to cool for 2-3 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely (or serve hot).

Makes 12.

Notes:
• These muffins do not rise a lot while baking, and so are more like little flat-topped cakes. If you prefer a larger, domed muffin, I would recommend dividing the batter between 6-8 muffins instead. Be sure to space them evenly in the tin and adjust the cooking time accordingly.
• A raisin bran cereal could also be substituted, as could fresh or frozen berries. Frozen berries will colour the batter a bit, due to their juice.
• Depending on your bananas, you may find you need to hold back a bit of the milk. I usually use between 3/4 cup and 1 cup.

Comfort comes in small packages

Recently at Seven Spoons:
Tara speaks from the depths of the couch, towers of magazines and cookbooks obscure her from view. Dear S is otherwise occupied with Ms. Billie, the feline mistress of the house, who is making quick work of the deconstruction of a bag of gift bows.

Tara: I’m torn. Florentines or tuiles? Both look lovely and would be perfect to package up for friends.
S: Uh huh, whatever you want, sweetie.
Tara: (opening another book, sending others flying) Take a look at these stunning cookies Martha’s made. Gingerbread snowflakes, piped with royal icing then dusted with sanding sugar. They sparkle so prettily - and you know I’m a sucker for anything with sparkles. I could do those, then some I saw in Gourmet ... I just need to find my copy ... (begins searching)
S: Do any of our friends like gingerbread? How about making the cookies from last year?
Tara: But that is boring.
S: But they were yummy. And I liked them.
Tara stops looking.

How can one not get excited to try new things come Holiday season? Bombarded with delectable images upon every magazine rack, bookshelf and television show, the season smacks of promise - there is always a new cookie to try, another way to roast a turkey, and this year’s penultimate side dish.

However, at least with my family, rarely do these new fangled recipes garner much praise. True they are well-received, but it is not often are they requested the year following. Not because they are not truly tasty, but because they are just not the tradition.

Take for example my father’s turkey. A few years ago he gallantly deboned an entire bird at our request, stuffed it with a savoury filling and then rolled into roulade - dark meat cradling the white meat inside. The turkey was perfect, moist throughout and utterly impressive.

Though it was, by far, the best bird I’ve ever eaten (and by my Mother’s command has been the only way we have celebrated the holidays for the last five seasons), there are still dissenters among the family. Since the turkey, no matter how beautifully tied, no longer resembles the classic image of a proper bronzed beast it is somehow considered inferior. My ever diplomatic Dad now roasts separate pieces of turkey to appease those souls.

It seems certain dishes are so firmly rooted in our sense of the season that we cannot be so foolhardy as to alter them. As we prepare the meal, going through the motions of making the brussels sprouts, stirring the gravy or getting out the same china we use every year - there is something inherent in these movements, in their ritual and rhythm that reminds us of years past and of memories shared. It is simply not Christmas without these tastes and smells and textures.

While I am all for innovation, I choose to spend this time looking forward and behind; taking note of now only where I am going but where I have been. There is comfort in the known, there is affection in tradition and there is pride in all that has stood up to the tests of time. Sometimes all that is needed are the tastes of home to assure us that there is still some right in the world.

These jam thumbprints are ridiculously easy and immediately invoke a sense of nostalgia, for a time we may or may not have known. Buttery shortbread, crowned with bronzed bits of coconut and gushing with a jam filling, you cannot get more classic than these.

Jam Thumbprints
Recipe published on Food TV.com courtesy of Ina Garten. Originally published in Barefoot Contessa Family Style. This recipe produces a fabulously rich shortbread base; experiment with different shapes and fillings to suit your tastes. I used Blackberry jam for my version, and upped the salt to 1/3 teaspoon.

'Tis the season for good intentions

We all do it. There is really no point in attempting denial. Pretty much everyone is guilty as charged.

I challenge anyone to pretend that they have not, at some time or another, shirked a bit of Holiday responsibility. Nothing serious I’m sure, but maybe it was a case of promising to bring a gift for a Secret Santa (less than $25, please), and in your last minute haste you spent a whopping $27.99 at the store on the way.

Or maybe you went so far as to reach back into the closet, pull out that untouched gift Aunt Meg and Uncle Stan gave you last year, snipned off the tag and presented it as your own contribution to the festivities. Regifting never hurt anyone, has it?

Or maybe you had promised to bring a home baked treat along for the annual neighbourhood open house, and somewhere in the purchasing, packing and pandemonium of pre-holiday prep, it completely slipped your mind. So you’re faced with a dilemma - head to the party empty handed or stop over at a local bakery on the way and hope nobody notices the price tag on the box.

I was in a similar predicament this morning. I had said, weeks ago, that I would be thrilled to participate in a cookie swap. I could already imagine the smell of baking butter and sugar wafting through the house; I envisioned cookie perfection, rows upon rows of gorgeous treats all waiting to be enjoyed. I poured over recipe books and magazines, scoured baking supply stores for sanding sugar and dried egg whites.

And then I got distracted. I’m not sure by what exactly, all I know is that it was suddenly the morning of the 27th, and my cookie jar had nary a crumb. Old Mother Hubbard has my sympathies.

Not willing to give up so easily (and with the bakery not opening for another three hours), I looked to my frequent saviour - the freezer. Armed with the last sheet of puff pastry, I improvised a holiday variation on an old classic, palmiers. Flaky and crisp, and glazed with a combination of reduced jam and cinnamon sugar, these cookies belie how easy they are to make. A quick roll and 12 minutes in the oven later, you are left with a tray worthy of any cookie-swap.

Happy holidays, indeed.

Holiday palmiers

Ingredients
1/2 cup strawberry jam
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice (or more, if desired)
1 inch piece of lemon zest (optional)
1 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon (or more, if desired)
1 sheet puff pastry, defrosted as per package instructions

Preheat oven to 450º F (230º C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, combine the jam, lemon juice and lemon zest (if using). Heat until the jam is melted but before it reaches a full boil. Remove from the heat and allow to cool for about 2 minutes. Using a small spoon, push the jam through a fine-meshed sieve, discarding any seeds and the lemon zest. I advise some care here, as the jam will still be rather warmå. Set aside.

In a small bowl, combine the sugar, cinnamon and salt. Spread one half of the mixture over your work surface and lay the puff pastry in the middle. Sprinkle the remaining sugar on top, and begin rolling. Turn and flip the pastry frequently, pushing the cinnamon sugar into the pastry - you want an even coating. Roll until you have a 13” by 13” square.

With a small offset spatula or butter knife and working quickly , spread the jam over the puff pastry. The jam should be in a thin layer, reaching all the way to the edges of the dough.

Fold the side of the dough halfway to the centre. Fold again, so that the two folded sides now meet in the centre. Fold one half over the other as though you are closing a book and the sides are now stacked on top of each other. Place pastry log on one of the prepared baking sheets and chill for 10 minutes in the freezer.

Remove from the freezer and slice the log into 3/4 inch slices. Place slices, cut side up back onto baking sheets and chill for an additional 5 minutes.

Bake cookies for approximately 6 minutes until the filling is bubbling and glazed and the pastry is starting to turn golden. Flip the cookies with a spatula and bake for additional 5 minutes, until caramelised and puffed. Wait a minute or so, then transfer to a baking rack to cool.

Makes about 24 cookies.

Notes:
• You can use whatever variety of jam or jelly you would like for this recipe. Reducing a clear juice (for example, cranberry) would also make a suitable filling. The jam may be omitted all together, and a coloured sanding sugar added instead for a colourful spiral design.
• The palmiers are quite delicate when they come out of the oven. For flipping and transferring to a wire rack, always use a spatula larger than the cookie to maintain its shape. A light spray of cooking oil on the spatula may also assist in transferring.
• The cut palmiers can be individually frozen on a cookie sheet, then transferred to a plastic freezer bag for storage. They should keep for approximately 2 weeks and do not need to be defrosted before baking. Cooking time may need adjustment, though.

Celebrating the start of something good

As I was discussing with a friend recently, fall has a very specific personality to it. While I love summer for all its brightness and enthusiasm, this time of year seems bring along a sense of hospitality. The market is still filled with colour, albeit from a kaleidoscope of rainbow hues to a wash of sunset shades. Now is the time to start braising meats and revisiting classic cold-weather comfort food. It is this idea of hearth and home, of generosity and bounty, that truly makes autumn my favourite season.

It was with this thought in mind that I started thinking about what to do with the apples I had from Schouwenaar Orchards and Vineyards. It was the weekend after the official start to fall, and I was looking for something that was homey and comforting. As I padded through the house in my slippers and robe, my gaze fell across the most recent edition of Everyday Food Magazine. Curled up to our breakfast counter, perched on a stool and with hands wrapped firmly around a warm mug, I flipped through the pages until I came upon an in-depth article on apples — with recipes both savoury and sweet, including one for an applesauce cake.

Remembering a favourite recipe for homemade applesauce using apple cider, I switched my mug for a peeler and started to work. Using a mix of Redcort, McIntosh and Galas, I happily worked away, and soon the kitchen was filled with the smells of mulled spices and the cooking fruit. What a perfect way to start a Saturday.

Once it had cooled I was left with a slightly tart, but sweetly balanced, sauce. With this success boosting my confidence, I turned to the cake recipe. As I’ve mentioned before, I'm not one to leave well enough alone — so I gave into my need to fiddle and started scribbling notes.

I had just received the thoughtful gift of miniature tube pans from my mother, so they had to be used, no doubt about it. The magazine called for light brown sugar only, but instead I included a bit of Demerara sugar, wanting the depth of almost burnt sweetness it brings. I also omitted the cardamom, as my cider applesauce was highly spiced. In one batch, I switched out the honey for maple syrup, for no other reason that I thought the spicy caramel taste would bring another note to compliment the apples.

Apple cider applesauce
Well-flavoured and slightly tangy, this is a great simple applesauce to use alone or in cooking. It has more character than store bought varieties, and comes together quite quickly. As an added bonus, your kitchen will smell heavenly as it cooks. You can use a mulled cider for this recipe, but may want to omit the cinnamon called for.

3 pounds apples, peeled, cored and cut into ½” slices (or thereabouts)
1 cinnamon stick or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup apple cider
2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Honey (optional)

In a large saucepan, combine apples, cinnamon and cider and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce heat, let simmer for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the sauce looks too dry at any time, add a few tablespoons of water.

When apples are tender, remove from heat and discard cinnamon stick (if using). Stir in lemon juice, and check for sweetness. If needed, add honey to taste, to balance flavours.

Makes approximately 4 cups.

Notes
• Sugar can be used instead of the honey, but should then be added before the apples are fully cooled so that it can dissolve. I find honey a much more mellow sweet, and enjoy the resiny depth it adds.

Applesauce Cake
Inspired by the recipe published in Everyday Food.

Non-stick cooking spray
3 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and levelled)
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon (you may omit this if you used a heavily-mulled cider in the applesauce)
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 ½ cups packed light brown sugar
½ cup Demerara sugar
¼ cup maple syrup or honey
2 large eggs
2 cups apple cider applesauce (or store-bought)

Icing/confectioner’s sugar (optional)

Preheat oven to 175° C (350°F).

Generously coat twelve 1 cup capacity miniature tube pans (usually in available in sheets of six), or a 10 inch tube pan.

In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.

In the bowl of an electric mixer (or using a handheld), beat together butter, brown sugars and maple syrup/honey until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating until well combined. The mixture should be pale and airy. With mixer on low, gradually add spoonfuls of the flour mixture, mixing until just combined. Beat in applesauce.

Spoon batter into prepared pans, smoothing the tops. Bake until a toothpick or cake tester comes out mostly clean (slightly wet) when inserted in the middle of the cake, 12-18 minutes with the miniature pans, or 50-60 using a traditional tube pan. Be sure not to over bake.

Cool in pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Invert onto a cutting board or baking sheet, and then again onto rack, top side up. Allow to cool completely. Serve either top or bottom side up (I liked the bottoms), with a light dusting of icing sugar.

Notes:
• Can be served alone, or with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream or a dollop of maple whipped cream.
• This cake keeps well, wrapped in the fridge. The flavours will mellow and blend.
• This batter is also good when baked in muffin tins - served with a bit of sweet butter, they make a lovely snack or breakfast.

A friend for dinner, Nigella Bites

This is my third instalment of my series in exploring my cookbooks, this time featuring Nigella Bites by Nigella Lawson.

I find that different books respond to different moods. When I want to know the minutiae of proper hollandaise technique, I know that there is nowhere to turn but a dog-eared copy of Larousse Gastronomique. A desire for “classic American cooking” is easily sated by flipping though one of the many books by Marion Cunningham. In the mood for adventure? Madhur Jaffrey’s soothing tone can lead even the novice home cook through the complex world of spices.

But there is one author I turn to most often when I’m looking for companionship - Nigella Lawson. One known for her conversational prose rather than complex (or always accurate) preparations, her books bring pure comfort; it is rainy day reading at its best. She doesn't take herself to seriously, with recipes ranging from classic to kitch. Charming and engaging, her writing is like having a chat with another food-loving friend. Details are scattered sometimes, and the stories can be rambling, but it really is all about the food.

I find her books to be inspirational, not in the sense of something to aspire towards, but rather a style of cooking that is closely related to my own everyday routine yet full of new ideas. It is accessible and simple, but still with a world-travelled palate and with an evident fondness for the social aspect of preparing and sharing food.

I will admit, I rarely follow her recipes to the letter. I usually try to make them as written the first time, but after that I usually tweak and fiddle to suit my own tastes. The fact that Lawson includes space for notes in her books speaks to me of her desire for the reader to make each recipe personal - she does not aspire to be the definitive expert on a dish, but rather seems content in introducing you to a method or an ingredient.

Such was the case with this gorgeous Chocolate Cloud Cake. Featured in the book, Nigella Bites, it was such a success I ended up making three in the same amount of days. True, no two cakes were identical (I also took ideas from recipes from Williams-Sonoma and Ina Garten), but hers was the original inspiration — and really, isn’t that saying something? Densely fudgy with a crackling, brownie-like top, this cake is deceptively simple to make, with results far greater than the effort involved.


Chocolate Cloud Cake
Also available online (including US measurements) at Nigella.com.

On days when I want the warmth of the hearth rather than the hurly burly of the city streets I stay in and read cookery books, and this recipe comes from just the sort of book that gives most succour, Classic Home Desserts by Richard Sax.

The cake itself (which was the pudding I made for last New Year's Eve dinner) is as richly and rewardingly sustaining: a melting, dark, flourless, chocolate base, the sort that sinks damply on cooling; the fallen centre then cloudily filled with softly whipped cream and sprinkled with cocoa powder. As Richard Sax says 'intensity, then relief, in each bite'.

For the cake
250g (9 ounces) dark chocolate, minimum 70% cocoa solids
125g unsalted butter, softened
6 eggs: 2 whole, 4 separated
175g caster sugar
2 tablespoons Cointreau (optional)
Grated zest of 1 orange (optional)
23cm (9 inch) springform cake tin

For the cream topping:
500ml double cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon Cointreau (optional)
Half teaspoon unsweetened cocoa powder for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 180ºC/gas mark 4.

Line the bottom of the cake tin with baking parchment.

Melt the chocolate either in a double boiler or a microwave, and then let the butter melt in the warm chocolate.

Beat the 2 whole eggs and 4 egg yolks with 75g of the caster sugar, then gently add the chocolate mixture, the Cointreau and orange zest.

In another bowl, whisk the 4 egg whites until foamy, then gradually add the 100g of sugar and whisk until the whites are holding their shape but not too stiff. Lighten the chocolate mixture with a dollop of egg whites, and then fold in the rest of the whites. Pour into the prepared tin and bake for 35-40 minutes or until the cake is risen and cracked and the centre is no longer wobbly. Cool the cake in its tin on a wire rack; the middle will sink as it cools.

When you are ready to eat, place the still tin-bound cake on a cake stand or plate for serving and carefully remove the cake from its tin. Don't worry about cracks or rough edges: it's the crater look we're going for here. Whip the cream until it's soft and then add the vanilla and Cointreau and continue whisking until the cream is firm but not stiff. Fill the crater of the cake with the whipped cream, easing it out gently towards the edges of the cake, and dust the top lightly with cocoa powder pushed through a tea-strainer.

Serves 8-12

Notes:
• You can make this into an Easter Nest Cake by folding 200g melted chocolate into the cream topping and dotting with the sugar-coated eggs instead of the cocoa. Leave the Cointreau out of both the cake and the cream. (NL)
• When I made this cake, I took some license and added 2 teaspoons of instant espresso powder to the egg yolk/chocolate mixture. I also used a mix of bittersweet and semisweet chocolates, for added depth.
• I ran out of parchment paper, and had fine success using a non-stick pan that I buttered and dusted with cocoa powder.
• Miniature versions of this cake are adorable, using six 4-inch springform pans. Adjust cooking times accordingly.

On insipired collaboration

I will be continuing my cookbook exploration, as promised. Stay tuned.

I am, as you may have suspected, one of the many food-obsessed.

While eating breakfast, I’ll be planning my lunch and preparing a mental shopping list for dinner. When we go out, I’m constanly looking in market stalls, restaurant menus and other people’s grocery carts for inspiration. When enjoying a meal, I’m critquing the bite in my mouth, keeping an eye on the presentation, and rarely does my date survive without at least one bite stolen from his plate.

When faced with a dish, I automatically compare it to the times I have had it before, considering what I like and would improve in this incarnation, and looking for ways in which I can create my own version. It’s a compulsion, and I relish every minute of it.

I realize that the food-obsessed is not a rare breed, but we are a passionate, inquisitive and enthusiastic bunch. Not a terrible combination, I’d say.

Most recently, I became fixated on peaches. The hot hazy days of late July were upon us and, in my opinion, there is nothing more equatable to summer than the honeyed sweetness of a ripe peach. One bite into the yeilding flesh, with juices flowing down your chin, and you’re tasting all of the season.

Living in a prime stone and soft fruit region, my anticipation grew, and I began culling recipe books and websites for peach recipes, finally stumbling upon a streusel cake from Williams and Sonoma.

But oh, one recipe would be too simple. Still on my mission for the perfect recipe, I clicked over to the charming Delicious Delicious and was interested in Caryn’s blueberry streusel muffins. What if I took the W&S peach recipe and converted it to muffins or mini-cakes instead?

I have no idea where the sour cream came in. I swear, I was all set on my recipe, and out of nowhere came the thought of the tangy density of a good sour cream crumb cake entered my busy little brain. And so, I was lost. The third recipe hunt began. Donna Hay’s Modern Classics: Book 2 proved my saviour, with her sublimely simple muffin base recipe (my usual standby).

So I was set. I would combine the struesel from Williams Sonoma, the form from Caryn, the base from Donna Hay (slightly altered) and I would have my peach perfection.

Then my dear father offered me a pint of gorgeously bursting blueberries. Remembering the colour combination of black and peach from Nigella’s fruit bake with yoghurt (blackberries and peaches), I couldn’t resist his offer. This was collaboration at its best, and the result could not have been more rewarding.

Blueberry peach sour cream crumb cake
With thanks to the many contributors.

For the topping:
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

For the cake:
2 cups plain (all purpose) flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup sour cream
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup vegetable oil

1 cup blueberries
2 medium sized peaches, peeled, pitted and cubed into medium chunks

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Butter and flour a 9 inch round springform pan (see Note).

To prepare the streusel, stir together the flour, brown and granulated sugars and cinnamon in a bowl. Using a pastry blender, two knives or your fingers, cut or rub the butter until coarse crumbs form. Set aside – if working in a warm kitchen, refrigerate until needed.

For the cake, sift together flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl. Stir in sugar. In a separate bowl, whisk together sour cream, eggs, vanilla and oil, until smooth.

Stir the sour cream/egg mixture through the dry ingredients. Be careful not to overwork the batter – mix until just combined.

In a small bowl, combine the blueberries and peaches.

Pour batter into prepared springform pan and spread evenly to fill the base (the batter will look like it is too little, but it will expand while baking). Sprinkle the mixed fruit over the batter and evenly top with the streusel.

Bake until lightly golden brown and a cake tester or toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean, about 35 minutes. Transfer the pan to a wire rack to cool for 20 minutes. Remove the sides of the springform pan. Can be served warm or at room temperature.

Notes :
• As pictured, this recipe can also be made in a 12 x 1/2 cup capacity non-stick muffin pan. When spooning in the batter, fill until about two-thirds full. Reduce the cooking time to approximately 12 minutes. In this preparation, you will have extra streusel topping, which can be frozen for a later use.
• To peel peaches, simply bring a two-thirds filled saucepan of water to boil. Using a small knife, cut a small, shallow “X” into the bloom end of each peach and immerse the peach into the boiling water for 30 seconds. Lift out with a slotted spoon and transfer to an ice bath until cool (you can skip this step and allow them to cool on a board, but I find the ice bath expedites the process). Once cooled, the skins should peel off easily, using either your fingers or the knife.

Butter + sugar + heat = bliss

I’ve not cooked a meal since last Sunday. And that was pasta.

Between assembling, reheating, and opening takeout containers, I’ve not had to do any “real” cooking, as in I’ve not turned on a burner or the oven. True, the 33°C temperatures may have a bit to do with my recent affinity for salads, but still, how lovely it is to be able to throw together a meal with such wonderful produce at hand, great restaurants nearby, and lovely family members all too willing to cook.

I’ve had the privilege of considering cooking a luxury – not a necessity or a chore, but an activity I could choose to do when the spirit so moved me.

I finally turned the oven on this evening, and for nothing short of a worthy cause; baking. The ultimate in indulgence, baking sweets speaks immediately to images of celebration, of comfort and of joy.

Baking always seems alchemy to me; the magic process of taking ingredients, combining them in a certain order in specific proportions, exposing this creation to heat — and voilà, a result much greater than the sum of its parts. Baking is all about transformation. One cannot help but feel a surge of pride when presenting a still-warm treat from the oven.

These cookies, crispy and chewy, like a good cookie should be, are as basic as one could wish for. Sinfully buttery, sublimely sweet, they melt in your mouth and leave you reaching for another. Based on the Nestlé Toll House recipe, swapping flavourings for dried cranberries or cherries, toffee bits, or dark chocolate chunks is highly encouraged.

So I’ve baked. I’ve rolled up my sleeves, faced a hot kitchen and even licked a spoon. I feel terribly domestic.

I should confess though, I’m having a salad for dinner.

White chocolate macadamia nut cookies
Based on the Nestlé Toll House recipe

Ingredients
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup packed b