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Archive for the ‘Breakfast’ Category

Cornmeal Waffles

My Junk Mail Box has been inundated of late by offers of roses for Mom on Mother’s Day. Yes, I read the stuff that lands in my Junk Mail box. Even worse, I like some of the junk mail I get, although I admit that I’ve never consciously purchased anything from one of those offers. I think it appeals to the same “hunter / gatherer” instinct that causes me to spend way too much time trawling the aisles of the supermarket hunting new things. Don’t come with me to Zabar’s unless you have a bit of free time on your hands.

Anyway: the roses. My Mother likes roses, but whenever she has been given daisies she always claims those as her favorite. I distinctly remember her buying bunches of daisies for herself every now and then.

She’s not the only Mom who has expressed this preference: I have a friend (a Mom of an eight month old and a three and a half year old (!)) who agrees with my Mom.

So why all the fuss about roses? Note to 1-800-Flowers: some of these women want daisies.

The other classic gift for Mom is breakfast in bed. I’m afraid my Mom has never gone in for this either, but don’t let that throw you: breakfast is her favorite meal. She would just prefer to have it served on a beachfront terrace in some pampering resort. My kitchen is small. I can do breakfast. I can’t do beachfront resorts.

That’s okay.  As the man says on TV, “Make it work.” The breakfast foods my Mom likes are corn muffins and waffles. Why not combine the two? Cornmeal waffles anyone?

As I saw it, there were two roads I could take to get to my goal: Muffin Avenue or Waffle Boulevard. I thought that the ideal would be to serve Mom the waffle equivalent of a crunchy muffin top. Sounds like a good idea, yes?  I mixed a very basic corn muffin recipe and fired up my trusty waffle iron. The result was best described as pointless. I ended up with a waffle that just wasn’t the right consistency, and a muffin top that had some crunch but lacked the springy mattress of crumbs that always lies under the crunch of a muffin top. Most disappointing was that the direct heat of the waffle iron was too intense for the cornmeal, lending it a flavor that wasn’t burnt, just sort of over-toasted.

Better to let a waffle be a waffle. My dream waffle (dream waffle???) has a happy blend of flavors and textures: a little sweet, a little grainy, with its fluffy insides held in check by a lightly crisp jacket. Good waffles pair expertly with more than just scrambled eggs and bacon. Throw a couple of waffles on a plate and place a few slices of turkey with a touch of gravy and you’ll never look at an open face Turkey Sandwich the same way again. (Chicken and Waffles? Molto bene!)

I’m getting ahead of myself: first I have to make the waffles. I didn’t want to go through the fuss of yeast waffles; this was definitely a make and bake exercise. The burning question (well, hopefully NOT burning) was: how much cornmeal should I add to my waffle recipe to give it a lingering hint of corn muffin while still remaining a waffle? Too much cornmeal would prevent the waffles from puffing up in the iron, too little and why bother?

My favorite plain waffle recipe (from The Baker’s Manual by Jospeh Amendola and Nicole Rees) seemed like a good starting point. It makes a thin, eggy batter that I assumed would hold up to my addition of cornmeal like a good soldier. The recipe calls for ¾ cup of cake flour. I swapped that out for ½ cup of yellow cornmeal. This, along with the addition of a bit of extra sugar and stingy amounts of cinnamon and nutmeg was ideal.

The result was a moist waffle with an almost malty sweetness. The next time I’ll feel free to add perhaps another tablespoon or two of cornmeal, but it really isn’t necessary. These are waffles that are definitely waffles, but there is that faint undercurrent of muffin, and that’s all I need. A dusting of confectioner’s sugar, and a sliced strawberry or two were all I needed to be happy, and I’m sure Mom will be too. (If your Mom likes Maple Syrup, serve her the real thing. It’s a special day, right?)

In the meantime, Happy Mother’s Day to Dori, Alexandra, Leslie, Betsy, Cindy, Rosemarie, Sylvie, Barbara, Nancy, and all the other moms who have made our lives so happy.  (And oh yeah: my Mom too!)

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Click here for the recipe for Cornmeal Waffles.

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Write to me at the email address below with any questions or thoughts you may have. Thanks!

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Chocolate Raspberry Babka

This past Friday I asked a trusted friend and advisor what I should make and write about in my blog this week.

“Babka,” came the answer, “Chocolate Babka. CHOCOLATE RASPBERRY BABKA,” the tone of voice making it clear that this was resolutely not a suggestion, but an assignment to be fulfilled in return for a favor recently delivered.

Now, aside from the fact that I have never actually baked a babka, I found this a really good – uh, suggestion. It’s been a while since I baked something that relied totally on my taste memories of years gone by. For most people I assume taste memory has nothing to do with it; for them, Chocolate Babka invokes the well-known “Seinfeld” episode where Jerry and Elaine get to the bakery too late and have to settle for a Cinnamon Babka – clearly (to their thinking) a lesser babka. To make matters worse, their babka has a hair in it. (This is also the episode where Jerry explains the profundity of the Black and White Cookie.)

In the past I have written about my obsession with food as it is portrayed on screen, but as you never actually see a babka in the “Seinfeld” episode, there is nothing for me to emulate. Anyway, I am not setting out to make a lesser babka, and certainly not a hairy one.

Here’s a game: in three words or less, describe babka for the uninitiated. I’m going to say “coffee cake on steroids.” I know: that was four words. A more complete description is a dense, sweet, filled, yeast cake. The traditional Jewish New York babka is made by filling and twisting or braiding the yeast dough. I see them all around the city in the shape of a loaf, but the babka of my youth was tall and round, notable for its hard, toasty, crunchy crust, its gooey filling, and its ample hat of crackling streusel. The tall, round cakes I remember must owe their shape to the traditional Russian – Polish version. The name Babka may come from “Baba” which translates as “Grandmother.” The theory is that the twisted, braided dough creates a design on the outside of the cake that looks like the pleats of a Grandma’s skirt. A version of this was made in the run up to Easter, so my timing is apt.

History lesson completed, I stepped out of the “Way-Back Machine” on a mission to build a better babka. In this case, I’m defining “better” as faster and maybe easier, because the traditional babka recipe I found is a bit of a lengthy project. As it turns out, no matter how you slice it (pardon the pun) making a babka is project baking, something best done when time is not an issue. The good news is that I have organized it into some easy steps. It still takes a little while, but none of the tasks are particularly difficult.

A babka recipe is really three recipes: the first, for the yeast dough, has the requisite rising time. The second and third recipes, for the filling and the streusel topping, are quick and simple, but contain a lot of moving parts.

This begs the question, “Why bother?” I have a couple of answers based specifically on my experiences baking babka this past weekend. The first answer is: because last Saturday night we New Yorkers experienced a howling, window-shaking rainstorm. In short, the perfect night for project baking, as I’m a terrible Scrabble player, so I stay stashed safely in the kitchen. The second answer is: I defy you to top the taste of babka straight from the oven, still marginally too hot to eat. My third answer (extra-credit) is: the aroma of baking babka will make you wish for more house-bound weather. Chocolate plus raspberry plus yeast. You do the math.

I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I’ll pause in the coffee aisle of the supermarket just to smell the beans. Baking is the same experience; sometimes the aromas coming from the oven are worth the price of admission.

It would be fun to tell you that I got the recipe from my sainted great-grandmother, a legendary baker. But the truth is that the yeast dough recipe came from the back of a box of pearl sugar that has been sitting on my shelf longer than I can remember. It’s one of those recipes that gets a frequent look with the thought, “Someday…” The streusel is from my Butter Flour Eggs Crumb Cake recipe. The filling? I winged it. Oddly enough, I think the filling came out the best of the three.

I also added a small touch. Literally. Instead of baking one big babka, I baked two baby babkas. One for the previously mentioned friend and advisor, and one for me. A happy arrangement.

While I prefer the babka fresh from the oven, there is something gratifying about carefully toasted slices of day (or two) old babka with a dab of butter or cream cheese. (Don’t heat slices of babka in a toaster. The filling will drizzle out and make a mess. Use your oven and a cookie sheet.) The bonus here is that even reheated babka fills the kitchen with the same great baking smells.

Hair is optional.

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Click here for my recipe for Chocolate Raspberry Babka.

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Write to me at the email address below with any thoughts you may have. Thanks!

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These are a few of my favorite things...

I’m ending the year with a moment of revelation. I had sidled up to the dessert table at a holiday party, and was licking my chops, surveying the goods. Suddenly I became aware of two women working at the same task and leaned in to hear the whispers between them:

Woman 1: “Everything looks so good!”

Woman 2: (Gasping) “Look at those cookies!”

Woman 1: “Will you share one with me?”

“Will you share one with me?” That’s what caused my moment of revelation—enough that my attention was momentarily diverted from the sugar wafting into my nostrils like a soothing opiate. I realized that this was not the first time I had heard that question while standing before a mountain of sweets. I’ve heard it waiting in line for cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery. I’ve heard it while surveying 31 flavors of ice cream, and then again at the party a few days ago.

This reminds me of a friend who is a playwright. He gets a lot of comments about his work. Comments from the people who help him actually get his plays on stage. Comments from the directors who help him shape the story and bring it alive.  Comments from the actors who speak with a supposed inside knowledge of what their character may or may not really do. Comments from friends like me who make suggestions veiled as silly questions.

I assume though, that his most valuable feedback comes from eavesdropping on audience members in the lobby during intermission. There, he hears truths that people can’t or won’t speak to his face.

That’s what I was doing when I was listening to the two women next to me at the dessert table: eavesdropping, and what I took away was that people want smaller, less intimidating goodies.

Hmmmm. Is this my resolution for 2010? Have I started the “tiny foods” movement? Hardly. But out of respect for a world where people live in a seemingly never ending state of “on-a-diet” I am here to declare that you can have your tiny cake and eat it too.

Here’s my theory: Make everything smaller in size and larger in flavor. Each bite should be a punch in the mouth. A chocolate jab to the right? An upper cut of cheese? Okay, okay, I’m painfully straining the boxing metaphor. Mind you, I’m not counting calories here; this is merely an exercise in taking the intimidation out of the stuff you’ve been told not to eat. I think you get my drift: small bite / big flavor = sated with less.

With New Year’s Eve only minutes away, I propose to use the last night of the aughts and the first morning of the teens as a laboratory to prove my theory.

Ines Rosales and Serrano Ham

My first choice? Easy. A few months ago I wrote about pairing Ines Rosales Sweet Olive Oil Tortas with Serrano Ham. I’ll be breaking the tortas into bite sized shards and wrapping them with paper thin slices of the ham. The tortas are a touch sweeter and a great deal crunchier than the usual melon that accompanies Serrano ham or Prosciutto, and less slippery too. To remove anything intimidating from the mix I’ll carefully peel the fat from the ham. Heresy to purists, I know, but still delicious.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? Forget those. Gougères are one of my favorite things. For the uninitiated, Gougères are classic French cheese puffs. I’ve decreased the bass and increased the treble: mine are button sized, and instead of the usual sweet, nutty gruyere cheese I found a Double Gloucester cheddar that is almost unbearably sharp—and bearably inexpensive. The sharpness of the cheese will be muted by the rich, eggy pastry; they’re small but they have big, big mouth feel.

Gougeres

Gougères are made from pate á choux—cream puff pastry. Intimidated? Don’t be. Using a Kitchen Aid stand mixer these are so easy to make it’s silly. The added bonus is that if you don’t add the cheese you can use the same recipe to make your own éclairs, cream puffs, and profiteroles. (Ahhh, profiteroles! Another favorite. Watch for an entire blog posting about those soon.)

Don’t forget dessert! Feel free to make those micro cupcakes, but those won’t tempt me. I need chocolate, and will be filling a large bowl with button sized chocolate chip cookies. I’ll be using the plain old Toll House cookie recipe but to give these minis some added punch, I’ll be adding half again as many chocolate chips as the recipe calls for, and adding a jolt by sprinkling an ever so light dusting of instant espresso powder over the teaspoon-sized cookies just before putting them in the oven.

Asiago Cocktail Bread and Eggs

If you’re the type who will be staying up to greet the first dawn of the new decade allow me to recommend Asiago Cocktail Bread. Adding this to your repertoire gives you a yeast-less recipe that can work triple-duty tasks. Toast skinny slices of this cheese infused bread, and you end up with biscotti that can be dipped into glasses of red wine. A smear of onion dip (or just caramelized onions) on the biscotti and you have a no stress hors d’oeuvre that can be piled on a tray. Best of all, skip the toasting step and give folks greeting the dawn a little breakfast nibble by topping thin slices of the bread with a bit of scrambled egg. The untoasted slices give the gratifying starchiness of biscuits, minus the heaviness. (These are really good for those who the sunrise may find a bit “over-bubbly-ed.”)

If you’re wondering which bubbly to buy without breaking the bank, don’t overlook Prosecco, the Italian sparkling wine. Sweeter than most champagnes but much less expensive, Prosecco is very approachable—more so, I think, than the equally inexpensive but much drier Spanish Cava. That’s just my preference. I’m a lightweight and will spend most of the night drinking a non-alcoholic bubbly so you are allowed to take my opinion with a (very small) grain of salt.

Hey: see you next year!

Santè!

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Click here for the recipe for Gougères and click here for the recipe for Asiago Cocktail Bread.

In case you missed it, read my original posting about Ines Rosales Sweet Olive Oil Tortas. More about this next week…

Write to me at the email address below with any thoughts you may have. I’ll be happy to hear from you.

Let me email you when the blog has been updated! Opt in by clicking the biscotti at right or by sending your email address to michael@butterfloureggs.com

I thought you were buying the batteries!

The fall is a blessing to someone who writes a blog about food. After Labor Day, food-related holidays pop up, fast and furious, like wooden ducks at a carnival sharp shooter’s booth.

With Thanksgiving having just passed, we are at my unofficial halfway point of this shooting match, and the beginning of the holiday season. December always brings to mind George Jetson walking his dog Astro on the treadmill. There is so much to do, there are so many people to see, places to go, and yes, good food to eat, that by the time New Year’s Eve has ended we are like poor Mr. Jetson yelling, “Jane! Jane! Get me off this crazy thing!”

I love the holiday season, but I know my Kitchen Aid mixer will be marking off each December day on the calendar in anticipation of a well-earned January rest.

Even my usually sedate calendar is frothing with obligations. Among other things, I’m scheduled to bake cookies for a couple of parties (and, of course, for Santa,) and I have promised to bake a “Buche de Noel” (the holiday Yule log cake) for a Christmas party.

So why is it that my mind has already skipped ahead to Christmas morning breakfast? Does the anticipation of all the activity on my docket make me think I need to start off with a good breakfast?

Could be. But it makes me realize that every December volumes are written about holiday cookies, cocktail party finger foods, and jokes about how to prop open your garage door with Aunt Dottie’s fruitcake. Yet Christmas morn gets nary a word: are people merely grabbing fists-full of Cheerios and gulps of coffee between bouts of gift wrap decimation? I hope not, because breakfast is my favorite meal.

So in recognition of the fact that most people have other things beside breakfast on their minds in the early hours of December 25, I’m here to lobby on behalf of a proper holiday breakfast.

Even if you’ve spent Christmas Eve in a frenzy of gift wrapping and bicycle assembling I’m here to tell you that a special holiday breakfast is no sweat. If it is just the two of you then your motivation should be even more apparent: breakfast can be intoxicatingly romantic.

The concept is to use a bit of pre-planning and light advance work to make a home-made breakfast appear on the table with a fleet-footed magic that is not unlike Donner, Dasher, and Blitzen. Kids won’t notice, but your house full of adult guests will be suitably impressed, and perhaps even envious. They’ll wonder if you made a special deal with Santa to bring breakfast along with all the other sleigh-borne goodies.

When I think of a proper breakfast, my mind’s eye sees toasty waffles with a puffy interior, and a stack of fluffy pancakes to keep them company. But if there’s such a thing as a “mind’s nose” then that’s what Christmas morning breakfast should tickle: the smell of really good coffee brewing, maple syrup warming, and something good cooking. If you have any chance of getting the kids away from their new Wii (with the Water Sport Resort module—are you listening Santa?) and over to the breakfast table, this is it.

So (you ponder) what’s the problem here? Stock the freezer, and then Christmas morning fire up the toaster, you say? No sir (or ma’am): no frozen waffles for this blogging breakfast maven. The prepackaged mixes seem like the breakfast version of mystery meat to me, so I’ll pass on those as well. Who knows what some of that stuff is, and anyway, you often still have to use your own oil, eggs, and milk, so what’s the point?

The dirty little secret is that there’s no magic here. Simply make the pancake batter the night before. Are you worried that you’ll feel chained to the pancake griddle when you should be firing up that new digital HD Camcorder (hello? Santa?) to capture your loved ones laying waste to several tons of wrapping paper and ribbon? Don’t worry, because we’ll let your oven do all the work.

The waffles are only slightly more labor intensive, but for a good reason: these are yeast waffles. For my money, if you haven’t eaten yeast waffles you haven’t eaten waffles. Period. (It occurs to me that I may have crossed some kind of foodie line here. I mean, when you get snobby about waffles there’s no going back…but what can I say? They are airy, tangy, and crunchy. They’re really good.)

The pancake is based on the Dutch Baby or Dutch Skillet Pancake recipe that’s been around for years, which is a not too distant relative of popover or Yorkshire pudding batter. The recipe is very simple, and the result is actually somewhat lighter than regular pancakes. Here is where I’ve added the vanilla and cinnamon to scent the air and help you call everyone to the table.

Christmas Eve, when not a creature is stirring you can whisk together a very few basic ingredients, and stash them in the fridge. In the morning, pour the batter in a preheated skillet and then just pop it in a hot oven. Fifteen minutes later a puffy brown pancake appears, no elves required. Slice into wedges like you would a pizza, and it is ready for whatever you want to throw on top. Even though there are sautéed apples in the pancake my topping of choice is even more sautéed apples and a snowy dusting of confectioner’s sugar. Eggs? Fine. Bacon? Go for it.

The waffle batter is slightly more challenging in that the addition of yeast requires a bit of planning. But the good news is that the yeast-infused batter will also be sleeping in the refrigerator while Santa does his work. Christmas morning someone will need to be on waffle iron duty, but truth be told, cooking waffles in a waffle iron isn’t much harder than reheating frozen ones in a toaster: once they’re working you can walk away for a few minutes.

(Obviously both of these recipes are perfect year ‘round for any special breakfast, and the waffles are also incredible with fried chicken.)

Now that my furnace has been suitably stoked with a hearty breakfast—or the thought of one—I’m ready to plug in my happy little pre-lit tree (it spins!) and get moving on my holiday fun.

And Santa, if you’re reading this, I’ve been extra nice and I’m serious about that Wii.

Click here for my Dutch Apple Pancake recipe, and here for my Yeast Waffle recipe.

Let me email you when the blog has been updated! Opt in by clicking the biscotti at right or by sending your email address to michael@butterfloureggs.com