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Archive for the ‘Cake’ Category

Tiger-Stripe Brownies

I come from a long line of politically incorrect folk, on both sides. Maybe it’s my whole Massachusetts liberal “thing” that makes me, perhaps, a bit too acutely aware of these transgressions? But there’s no escaping it. I had an aunt whose cleaning woman was named “Brownie.” But “Brownie” was white, so go figure that one out. Auntie is long gone so I can’t ask her why her white cleaning woman was named “Brownie”, and I can’t ask my Mother; she just rolls her eyes at the mention of Auntie. (I think that has to do with a sister-in-law “thing”.)

(Oh, my. Another Aunt had one of those lawn jockey sculptures in front of her house. During the civil rights movement in the ‘60’s she painted his face white. That Aunt is long gone too, but for all I know the lawn jockey is still there holding his lamp up to his blushing pale face. )

(I could ask my Mother about that too, but I know her answer would be something along the lines of, “She did? My goodness, what a memory you have…”)

Seems to me that the Brownie—and by that I mean the fudgy, chocolate bar cookie— has been teetering on the edge of all sorts of moral decrepitude for ages now. Freud said, “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” but the foul whiff of bathroom humor has also hung over Brownies for me ever since I went to summer camp as a kid. You fill in the blanks on that one. I don’t write that kind of humor. (That would be caused by an uptight liberal “thing”.)

Yet, what are we going to call the Brownie instead? The Chocolate Bar cookie? I think not. It is neither a chocolate bar, nor a cookie.

We liberals have passed this way before. Seinfeld devoted an entire monologue to the racial harmony represented by the Black and White cookie.

I’ll have to go blindly with Freud on this one: sometimes a brownie is just there to satisfy chocolate cravings.

Now, to change the subject slightly (and at this point wouldn’t you?), I recently decided that I needed to unchain myself from what seemed to be an addiction to making things with my Kitchen-Aid stand mixer. I think things had gotten out of hand.

How much marshmallow and whipped cream does one person need to make? I make this claim with only half an apology. Making whipped cream in a Kitchen-Aid mixer is a rush, man. Fast? Let’s just say don’t walk away from the mixer.

Pulling back from this technological addiction seemed a bit limiting at first, but as you can see from the previous paragraph, well advised. Then I reminded myself that my great grandmother came into the kitchen armed only with a bowl and a spoon. (I have skipped a generation. Neither grandmother was a baker. I swear one thought cookies grew in boxes.)

I’ve written about my great grandmother’s kitchen exploits before; she serves as an acute reminder that I can give my Kitchen-Aid a rest and still make some really great stuff. Blueberry Crunch Cake? Done.

In addition to being morally questionable, Brownies are one of the all time great comfort foods. Do you have a friend who just went through a big break up? Nothing fixes a broken heart better than a brownie. (Well, okay, a brownie and some ice cream.) Brownies also make a great birthday cake. To paraphrase a friend, if they don’t like brownies, they must be communist. (Wow. Liberals, communists, Freud, foul whiffs. Happy summer!)

The great unacknowledged truth about brownies is that they are a simple one bowl cookie. Yes, I also know that they say that the best brownies come from a mix, but with all due respect, I disagree on many levels. Shall we break this down?

Cost? The average mix costs about $2.50 per box. To that you must still add your own eggs and oil. Mine? See “quality of cocoa used” below. Cocoa powder is the biggest expense here.

Time? I dunno. Mine are pretty darn fast. And you still have some measuring to do with a mix.

Quality of cocoa used: I know where my cocoa comes from. Betty or Duncan’s? I’m sure it is excellent. (Yes, I’m being condescending.) The truth is, you just don’t know where Betty or Duncan’s cocoa comes from.

Okay, okay, I’ll cave on one area: if you are not much of a baker perhaps the mix is your best bet. I bake a lot, so I have flour and all the other ingredients already. If you don’t bake much you’ll have to buy all that stuff.

But perhaps if you invest in a bag of flour and a tin of excellent cocoa powder you will be encouraged to bake more often? I hear you: a debatable point.

There is one other little nagging item. The mixes contain partially hydrogenated oil, an unhealthy fat. In addition, you need to add your own oil and eggs. My recipe? No partially hydrogenated oil and you can control the quality of all the ingredients, even making the whole thing organic if you wish. No debate there.

What’s the score so far? (Oh, a draw. Darn.)

Okay then, I have one last trick up my (chocolately) sleeve. Tiger stripes. You can’t do these if you make brownies from a mix. These are not to be confused with peanut butter or sour cream which some people—me included—enjoy adding to brownies. The stripes in this recipe don’t introduce any other flavors or ingredients; they are purely for looks. I used to work with a very sweet woman who enjoyed wearing animal prints. These are a toast to her. Make these for someone and they are sure to remember.

You’ll notice that the recipe uses canola oil instead of butter. While there are some health benefits to this choice I must admit I had an ulterior motive. I like my brownies with just a touch of chill on them. I just think the chocolate tastes better that way. If you refrigerate brownies made with butter they aren’t as chewy straight out of the fridge.

The stripes are, of course, optional. If you prefer your brownies monochromatic simply skip that step in the recipe.

That’s a choice “thing.”

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Click here for the recipe for Tiger-Stripe Brownies.

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Blueberry Crunch Cake

It often occurs to me that if I weren’t in the kitchen cooking or baking I would likely be fixing (okay, breaking) something mechanical. I’ve always been like that. Always fiddling with something, pushing its buttons, seeing how it works. I’m a “Popular Science” man in a “Bon Appétit” world. Truth is though, having watched chefs at close range I realize that the best of them are just gearheads in white coats. While they have huge respect for craft and technique, they also love trying out a new toy. Crème brulee blow torch anyone? (Don’t forget your safety goggles.)

It is only natural to become a bit reliant on these toys. When was the last time you didn’t plug in a toaster to make toast? Not the same thing, you say. Really?

I’m not being judgmental but merely pointing out that it is human nature to constantly seek out the right tool for any job. The Williams-Sonoma catalogue plays right to that strain of DNA. Sure, you could hammer that nail with the heel of your shoe, but why would you when there’s a great invention called a hammer? Granted, hammering with your shoe has its advantages, not the least of which is storage. When you’re done hammering you simply put the tool away by putting it back on your foot.

Hey. I think we’ve got a great idea for a new “as seen on TV” item here. The Shammer? The Shoemmer? We’ll work on it. Surely we can do better than “Pajama Jeans.”

I am the first to admit that I may have an over reliance on my Kitchen Aid stand mixer. If I could drive it like a car I probably would. I make no apologies for this; it is built like a Sherman tank and I have no doubt that even New York City cabbies would veer out of my way if they saw me driving around the city in it.

This, of course, begs the question: if my Kitchen Aid were somehow incapacitated could I still bake something decent? An even better question is: in a city full of folks just starting out, who have varying amounts of limited time, kitchen space, and equipment, can some decent scratch baking get done?

If you don’t live in Manhattan you may not realize some of the great oddities of everyday life here (I’m talking about the stuff that doesn’t get aired on Eyewitness News.) We live without things that people elsewhere take for granted. I know plenty of folks here who don’t have a real kitchen. Instead they have a couple of burners, and a below the counter fridge. They may have supplemented this with a toaster oven and perhaps a microwave. Almost none of us have a washer and dryer in our apartment, even in the fanciest of buildings. (This is the reason I hate doing laundry.)

Carrie Bradshaw may have been as hooked on her couture as I am on my All-Clad, but you never saw her lugging her dirty La Perlas and a jug of Tide down to the Laundromat. A glaring omission.

Cooking-wise, this reminds me of one of my great “pet –peeves.” My admiration for Ina Garten or Martha Stewart aside, the thing you never, ever see on TV cooking shows is the clean up. You think when the director yells, “Cut!” at the end of a taping that Martha rolls up her sleeves and starts washing the dishes? Uh-uh. That’s what the interns are for.

(Now THAT’S an idea for a TV show: “Battle of the Network Dishwashers.” Sorry folks. I’m keeping that one for myself.)

(That’s not to say that Martha can’t wash dishes. Something tells me that she can do it better, faster, and more efficiently than you and me put together. No I’m not scared of her. Much.)

I may be overly reliant on my Kitchen Aid, but I wasn’t born with it in my hands. Give me a big bowl and a wooden spoon. I’ll still get the job done. My mission? A small vocabulary of recipes that can be made in any kitchen with only the most basic ingredients and equipment. The payoff? Wholesome baking, from scratch, that you would be proud to share with friends, office-mates, family, or someone special (cue saxophone.)

Please don’t be turned off by the word “wholesome.” I don’t mean Donny Osmond (yeah, yeah, I know, “What’s wrong with Donny Osmond?” Nothing.) I mean good food, with healthy, recognizable ingredients. Wholesome. The other payoff is that limiting the equipment makes clean up easier and faster. I can’t guarantee that I’ll never use a mixer in this set of recipes, but if I do, you can use the hand-held kind. (A cheap, easily stored investment.)

For me, the downside of limiting ingredients is that there may be times when you lose a bit of complexity in the flavors. If that’s the case, I’ll mention a few options that you can add if you are feeling ambitious. There are a few expectations: you must have a big bowl, measuring spoons, measuring cups, and baking pans that fit your oven. That’s the price of admission. Oh, and that bowl? I prefer glass, but stainless steel is fine too, and get one bigger than you ever think you’ll use. You can also serve salad from it, or store other bowls in it. Mine is (I think) 6 to 8 quarts.  (Here’s a good example.) Why the fuss over the size of the bowl? Because to me there is nothing more aggravating than trying to stir something in a bowl and having it overflow. A big bowl means you can stir with abandon.

Every few weeks or so I’ll add to this list of recipes. This week’s recipe has an added bonus: it is actually three recipes, all from the same ingredients, with slight variations in the preparation.

With local blueberries so abundant during this time of year, I decided to start with a Basic Blueberry Crunch Cake. If you choose, you can use the same recipe to make muffins, but I prefer the cake, and you should feel free to serve it straight from the pan. The crunch topping is a very basic streusel, but with less butter, so the topping is looser. The cake is yummy, but I would have preferred the spiciness of some cinnamon, and maybe the springiness of a scraping or two of lemon zest. Twice the prescribed amount of vanilla extract wouldn’t be a bad change either. If you’re feeling ambitious, add about a teaspoon of cinnamon to the crunch topping, and a teaspoon of lemon zest to the cake batter when you’re mixing the sugar into the egg.

Besides the cake and muffins, you can use the same recipe to make blueberry pancakes.

By the way: I’ve already cheated. I used a rubber scraper to transfer the batter from the bowl to the cake pan. I could have used my hand, I guess, but c’mon.

Next mission: to see if I can get my Kitchen Aid to do my laundry.

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Click here for the recipe for Blueberry Crunch Cake.

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Cobbler...slump...or grunt?

Politicians love to speculate what our nation’s forefathers would have thought of whatever policy they are advocating.

This thinking is usually lost on me. I’d rather know what they would choose from the dessert menu. I’d rather speculate whether or not Thomas Jefferson would have liked Jell-o.

I can’t help but wonder what Messrs. Adams, Jefferson, and Franklin were eating during the hot, muggy Philadelphia days that led up to July 4^th. I can say with some confidence that during the long hours it took for him to write the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson wasn’t eating Domino’s.

John Adams was a Harvard grad and a lawyer, but he was also a farmer. Abigail (Mrs. Adams to you) likely served what was fresh and in season, straight from their own fields. There was no choice: the only place she would have found an Israeli tomato was in Jerusalem. While championing the use of locally grown farm ingredients may have made Alice Waters seem like a revolutionary in the 1980s, what she really was doing was recapturing a time before fruits and vegetables were flown in from elsewhere. Folks lived off the land and bought what was grown locally; this also shaped their menu. It is only in our time that the new-fangled jet airplane has made food from around the world available in your neighborhood supermarket.

Some popular desserts in revolutionary times were cobblers, pan dowdies, and stewed fruit desserts called grunts or slumps. Supposedly the latter were called grunts because of the noise they made while cooking. Hmmm. Doesn’t sound promising, but these desserts were likely borne from a combination of the available technology (the kitchen stove = the hearth) and the available ingredients.

Just what you wanted: a history of the Revolutionary War as told through the dessert menu. My high school history teacher would be so proud. I finally got something right.

I know that the thought of a hot dessert on a hot summer night seems out of place. I won’t apologize. Fresh berries are bouncing off the shelves right now, and yes, they’re wonderful in a bowl with a little sugar and a dollop of cream. But there’s a problem with cold desserts: there’s no aroma to make your home smell like, well, home.

It’s not by accident that one of the oldest tricks up the sleeve of any Real Estate agent worth her salt is to bake apples and cinnamon in the oven when they’re having an open house. They’re not after a low-fat dessert, they’re after a sale. They can “stage” a house with fancy furniture and knick-knacks, but if the place smells like poopie it’s “No Sale.”

That tasty concept aside, I was also thinking that summer is the season when people take time to entertain friends. Perhaps they have a house near the beach which is the target of many a weekend trek by friends and family. For folks who live the other nine months of the year in their little New York City apartments, this may often be the only time during the year when they get to eat “at home” with their chums at a real dining room table as opposed to having everyone perched on the sofa.

The desserts in the picture above are like a colonial cobbler or a slump. I lightened them up a bit by substituting a very light cake batter for the usual biscuit dough topping. The cake batter makes the dessert lighter for summer, and is easier to prepare. I used my Kitchen Aid, but a bowl and wooden spoon will do you fine. You can bake these for varying lengths of time depending on how “puddingy” you want them. The longer you bake them the cakier the top becomes.

Wouldn’t it be nice to present your visiting chums with four different versions of the same dessert? Sounds ambitious, yes? Is it ambitious? No.

I’m still kicking myself. In my shopping haste I grabbed only blueberries and raspberries. My repeat performance will show me grabbing the blueberries and raspberries, but also the blackberries, strawberries, and maybe a summer stone fruit like a peach or nectarine. Each item will get its own little dessert.

The dishes are little 4 ¾’’porcelain crème brulee dishes; at about four bucks a pop they’ll hardly break the bank, and I can also use them for nuts and other snacks. (Ummmm, and crème brulee too.)

Assembling the dessert is easy: tumble the berries or cut fruit into the dishes, top with the batter. Bake. A touch of ice cream and some serving spoons are all you need. You don’t have to wait for the beach or the backyard barbecue for this: it also makes a great “coffee table” dessert. (Be careful though. Blueberries and rugs don’t mix well.)

While this isn’t strictly a cobbler or a grunt / slump, I’m calling it a slump. It’s a dessert name you don’t hear anymore, and has a free history lesson attached.

If you prefer, stick a feather in your hat and call it macaroni.

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Click here for my recipe for Berry Slump

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Cupcakes and ocean liners

Here’s a startling revelation: I am a soap opera fan. Some years ago my brother came home from college for winter break and stopped everything to watch “All My Children.” Those were the days when soaps were big on college campuses. I was hooked.

Maybe it’s in the blood: family legend has it that in the days before the invention of the VCR, a late Aunt stopped a Passover Seder between the third and the fourth questions so she could watch “Peyton Place”.

By the time I got to college the shared obsession was “One Life To Live” and I have followed that show, a/k/a, “my stories” on and off since then. (Mostly “on” since the invention of the DVR.)

It was recently announced that ABC has decided to cancel “All My Children” and “One Life To Live” and I’ll admit that the announcement made me a bit emotional. Not many folks watch the soaps anymore, so these shows, which used to be cash cows, have become drains on the network’s bottom line. I’m not here to complain or demonize anyone for this decision, after all, that’s show biz. They say that the soaps are dead. Really? Wait until their long lost “twin” shows up.

Supposedly reality TV has supplanted the soaps in the hearts and minds of the audience advertisers most want to reach. If my Baby Niece is any indication, that may be true. Folks have always criticized the soaps for outlandish storylines and silly plot devices. Guilty, but I say therein lies their charm, buffed to a sometimes uneven gloss by actors of varying talents reading from a script.

Reality shows? We are told we are seeing genuine outlandish behavior. Often though, reality TV feels like video of people who waited to misbehave until they saw the red light of the camera. You are left to wonder if they’d be flipping tables or throwing glasses of wine at each other even if the cameras weren’t there. Some great actors got their start on the soaps. Where will Snooki be in thirty years?

In the meantime, this has gotten me thinking about a rapidly changing world. I think a combination of technology and the ticking clock is at play. Nothing new here. Fifty years ago the Boeing 707 rendered the ocean liner obsolete. Yes, we still have cruise ships, but it is not quite the same experience. The s.s. United States was launched in 1952 and was the most technologically advanced liner in the world. She still holds the records for the fastest east and west transatlantic crossings, and it was widely advertised that the only wood on board was in the grand pianos. Yet, she has sat rusting and abandoned since 1969. Even her sleek mid-century interiors have been stripped away: they were loaded with asbestos. But she was—is—defiantly, a ship. In 2011, the largest cruise ship afloat, the “Allure of The Seas” features a tree-lined park, a Starbucks, and a 3-D theater. After all these years the good news is that the s.s. United States may become a fixed attraction on the New York waterfront, but her silent engines will likely bear witness to countless charity dinners, antiques shows, and Martha Stewart craft events.

No Luddite, I, the very fact that I write a blog—new media—is my testimony to that fact. I am a proud member of the digital / social media age, and I think it is all miraculous. Admittedly, I am conflicted about the BlackBerry and the iPhone, but that has more to do with living in a big city and having to constantly dodge people who walk the sidewalks of the city with their heads down, and of being subjected to them singing loudly in the gym to their “headphoned” music. (They hear Pavarotti. We hear the braying of a donkey.)

I was born too late to sail across the Atlantic on the s.s. United States, to see Olivier on stage as Hamlet, or to drive my Mom’s Rambler convertible. These things were meant to exist in their time and then leave behind only rapidly fading evidence of their existence—like paper streamers stretched between those departing on the ocean liner, and those back on the pier.

You assume things will be around forever. They won’t. That’s life.

I’d hate for you to think that I am a Gloomy Gus. No. There’s too much that’s great about the here and now. Someday we’ll be nostalgic for these “simple” times—a chilling thought.

Life is cyclical. The old maxim, “here today, gone tomorrow” should actually read, “here today, gone tomorrow, and then back again.” And look at all the stuff that has been rendered permanent by technology. Start with the written word and climb the ladder to “You Tube”.

Using a bit of old technology, you can even recreate childhood memories. When I was a little kid there was a bakery in Newton Centre, Massachusetts named Bob Ware’s Yum-Yum Shop. Bob Ware’s closed when I was a little kid –seemingly without an internet trace. Google it and you’ll find…me, or actually, my previous mention of the place. But to this day a certain cupcake my Mom used to bring home from Bob Ware’s (probably in her Rambler) has remained etched indelibly in my memory.

So using the aforementioned old technology called “baking”, I have resurrected this old favorite. And as I was leaning over the sink eating my chocolate cupcake (that’s where my Mother always ate them) I thought they were just as I remembered.

Cupcakes like these were likely a staple in neighborhood bakeries: nothing earth shattering, nothing revolutionary.  Their magic was in their subtlety. It wasn’t all about the big pile of frosting on top. I know that there are folks who insist that cupcakes are merely “delivery systems” for the frosting. This cupcake was a bit different and was more a tribute to balance and harmony…and there was not one ounce of buttercream. The cake was really good on its own (very dunkable), the chocolate glaze added a cap that could be peeled off and eaten separately. The ring of boiled frosting on top was as much a textural accent as a visual one. My Mom could linger over it a bit at the sink, one eye on “Love of Life” or “Secret Storm.”

A quiet moment before all hell would break loose: my brother and I coming home from school.

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Click here for my recipe for “Newton Centre Cupcakes.”

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Technique!

The actress Melissa Leo dropped “the “F” bomb” in her Oscar acceptance speech the other night. Personally I find this endearing and ironic. Endearing because it was a “real” moment—I place “real” in quotation marks because, let’s face it, it was an Academy Awards acceptance speech; how real could it be? It’s not like they pulled someone in off the street, stuck a statue in her hands and told her to give a speech. Nevertheless there was something genuine about the moment.

I find it ironic because she won the award for playing a rather foul-mouthed character. Or am I simply projecting a self-created veneer on this character? The movie for which she won, “The Fighter”, is a true story set in Lowell, Massachusetts, not all that far from where I grew up. I knew dozens of women like her. To be honest, I was more struck by the hair and makeup in the movie. They nailed it—that’s what those women really looked like.

Like another recent movie, “The Town”, I may have had moments where the accents let me down—the Boston accent is deceivingly difficult to do, and on film is more often done wrong than right. Pahkin ya cahr in Hahvid Yahd (trans: Parking your car in Harvard Yard) is not as easy as it seems. For that matter, I’d be willing to bet that Harvard Yard has a strict no parking policy.

While we’re on the subject of my heavily Irish-influenced home town, I’m reminded that St. Patrick’s Day isn’t far off. Pity the poor foodie on this day. Would it be terribly snarky to suggest that, food-wise, St. Patrick’s Day lacks subtlety? St. Patty’s day is usually celebrated with all things green, including beer and bagels. (I shouldn’t complain: in Chicago they tint the entire Chicago River green.) Irish Soda Bread? I did that last year. Corned Beef and Cabbage? It’s not calling my name.

Ah, but what about dessert? Some of us need a dessert that isn’t mugged and foamy after the Corned Beef and Cabbage. Don’t worry, I practice a strict “No Green Cake” policy.

First, pupils, here is this week’s history lesson. During the years I was growing up in Boston, the Ritz-Carlton was considered the city’s most luxurious hotel. That may or may not still be true, but it was the dowdier Parker House Hotel that was the backdrop against which quite a bit of history was played. The Parker House Hotel has been around in one form or another since 1847, the current building dating back to 1927. Aside from being the first Boston hotel to have hot and cold running water and an elevator, it is also where JFK announced he was running for the Senate, where he proposed to Jackie, and where he held his bachelor party. (We’ll let that last item slide.)

Authors like Edith Wharton and Stephen King wove portions of their stories through the Parker House (although in King’s short story “1408” he names the hotel “The Dolphin.”) Even more interesting is the parade of world-changers like Ho Chi Minh and Malcolm X who walked its halls—as employees. (According to Wikipedia, Ho Chi Minh was a baker. Who knew?)

Naturally the most interesting part of the hotel’s history—to me—is that it is the birthplace of the Boston Cream Pie, and, of course, the Parker House roll.

Boston Cream Pie is one of those old-fashioned diner desserts that we take for granted. For the uninitiated, it is not a pie, it is a cake. It is easy to take it for granted because by modern standards it is—like the Parker House was for many years—dowdy, or plain. Keep in mind that it wasn’t created to be dowdy or plain. It was created to be cutting edge; it is only the passage of time that has dulled that edge.

To make a Boston Cream Pie is to appreciate the tradition and the art that went into its creation. Let me explain it this way: making a Boston Cream Pie is like dancing an old but well choreographed ballet: it’s all about classic technique and basic steps.

In this case the basic steps are chiffon cake, pastry cream, and ganache. Don’t be fooled. While it is only three steps, you must dance each of them perfectly.

The chiffon cake may actually be the easiest. The original recipe likely used genoise, but I like the fragrant, sugary, yolkiness of a chiffon cake better. The vanilla pastry cream just requires a bit of patience and a good whisking arm, but learn to do this step well and you’ve conquered Éclair filling, and perfect, silky, pudding. Ganache requires a good eye for texture: your eyes tell you when it is ready, although there is a bit of leeway here in the definition of “ready.”

The result is like a step back into a scene from “The Age of Innocence.” Or in the case of me and my friends, an Oscar party where it earned very positive notices. The fragrant, eggy chiffon cake blends with the intense vanilla of the pastry cream (which I blended with whipped cream) to make an almost lemony sweetness. I used a whipped ganache on top, although to tell the truth, next time I’ll skip that step and drizzle warm ganache over the top. That will result in a lighter touch with a more intense chocolate hit.

Meanwhile, I wonder what Ho Chi Minh’s Boston Cream Pie was like?

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Drop me a note if you want the recipes for Boston Cream Pie.

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

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

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Le ricette della mamma...

There is a paper flour bag that has been sitting on my pantry shelf for months. This is not a typo: I meant to write paper flour bag, not bag of flour. That’s because the paper bag is empty, the flour having long ago given its life in the cause of pizza.

I have the unfortunate habit of holding on to stuff like this, usually because a recipe is printed somewhere on the side. I think I’ve been intrigued by these side-of-the-box recipes ever since I was a kid and saw the famous “Mock Apple Pie” recipe printed on the Ritz Cracker box. I never understood why anyone would make a fake apple pie when the real one was so easy. Yes, the thought of wet, sugary, Ritz Crackers cooked in lemon juice is intriguing, but we’ll save that for another day.

There are times when there is no recipe on the package, but I may have found the shape or flavor of the cookie or cracker pictured inspiring. In those cases I will cut out the picture and add it to a growing but rather random file of similar items. Often these bits of inspiration find their way into recipes, although sometimes it is the “feeling” of the item rather than the actual flavors that makes its way into something I bake. “Homey” or “farmhouse” are adjectives that I may take away from a session of flipping through the file that contains these bits of cardboard.

How often do I actually make any of these recipes? Uhhhhh…I’m not sure that I ever have. Even more remarkable in the specific case of the paper flour bag, is the fact that the printing on the flour bag in question was in Italian, a language with which I have—at best—a nodding acquaintance.

Still, there was enough there that I could decipher, so I neatly folded the empty bag and stuck it in a place where it could occasionally wave, “Hello” to me and remind me of its existence.

Okay, the latter is a very passive explanation of what happened. Here’s what really happened: I am endlessly intrigued with anything that smacks of simple Italian cooking. The recipe on the bag begins with the title, “Le ricette della mamma,” or in English, “Mom’s recipe.”  I was hooked.

I know enough Italian that I could further identify cocoa and orange zest amongst the ingredients; this begs the question, “Why did I wait so long to make this recipe?” Dunno, but clearly its time has come. Hey, I never write about making other folks’ recipes. Leave it to me to choose one that I can barely understand.

Thank you, internet. If it weren’t for you I would have had to dig deep to find someone to patiently translate the recipe. But you did it quickly, and in the comfort of my own home. Very accommodating. And I was truly charmed by your word-for-word translation. Yes, I will “…ascend well the egg whites”, I promise.

The name, “Torta Nera” bodes well. It translates as “Black Cake.” If you love chocolate (ME!, ME!) that sounds mighty good. The recipe was written in metric weight? No problem. I have a scale which will translate into ounces and cups. (PS: I think electronic scales are indispensible for bakers.) Most of the ingredients are your cake-baking basics like milk, flour, butter.

But one ingredient translated poorly: “una bustina di lievito vanigliato.” This translated as, “a sachet of vanilla yeast.” Wha??

Because in my simple mind and imagination all Italians spring from the womb with innately superior cooking skills, my first assumption was, “Good god, these folks are so clever! They even have vanilla-flavored yeast!”

Alas, this is not the case. There’s no such thing as vanilla-flavored yeast. That would be your ultimate niche market item, after all how much Panettone can you make? In the meantime I was puzzled: Did they mean a packet of vanilla? A packet of yeast? Maybe the internet translator meant plain yeast instead of vanilla yeast?

The answer was found via just a bit more internet digging. What the recipe meant for me to use was vanilla-flavored baking powder, a common convenience ingredient used by Italian housewives. An “Aha!” moment, but I couldn’t find that product in New York City, so a bit of plain baking powder and vanilla extract would substitute.

I carefully weighed and measured each ingredient before moving on to the mixing instructions where I encountered a small glitch. Turns out Mamma must have been nipping at the vino. She listed 100 ml of milk as an ingredient, but then neglected to mention when to add it and / or how. That’s okay. I’ve made a cake or two in my time and was able to channel Mamma and figure it out.

A bit of background: in setting out to translate this recipe I was hoping for a cake that would simultaneously be a bit simple and rustic, yet have an unusual mix of flavors and textures. If not, why bother? I already have a chocolate cake recipe, who needs yet another? The fact that the recipe calls for type “00” flour, a finely-milled flour usually used in pizza dough or bread gave me hope for something a bit denser than the springy Hershey’s One-Bowl cake or Duncan Hines’ mix many are used to.

Mamma didn’t disappoint. The cake was dense and dark, with a crust that gives a soft but gratifying crunch when chewed. While she didn’t specify in her recipe how much grated orange zest to add, I assumed that she would prefer the cake to be well perfumed by the citrus and so I used a generous hand.

Since it is not as aggressively sweet as an American-style chocolate cake, I found that it would be eminently dunkable with a spot of Earl Grey or a spirited companion with a bit of Moscato di Asti.

Grazie Mamma!

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Click here for the recipe for Torta Nera.

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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

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Chocolate Gingerbread Cake (and friends)

I was sitting at a Christmas party the other day speaking to a chum. Just by coincidence we happened to be seated next to the desserts. Why not? I brought them. My chum –a magazine editor by trade – effects an effortless casual style. I may effect a casual style but it isn’t effortless. I always feel like I’m huffing and puffing to get there. Mr. Magazine Editor routinely flies around the world dressing celebrities for photos that will run in his magazine which is read by millions. I stand in my kitchen baking and cooking for photos that will run in my blog which is read by…you. He takes great satisfaction in the end result of his work. Me too. But…

I mention that we were seated next to the desserts not as an example of my gluttony (which was well under control— that night) but as an example of the fact that sometimes I need to hear strangers’ reactions to my work. I bake for my friends and family often enough, and their reactions are always positive. For some reason (curiosity? neediness?) I feel like I need to listen to strangers for another version of the truth.

Another friend, renowned artist Laura Loving, held her annual Holiday Open Studio this past weekend and asked me to help out with a few desserts. My position next to the dessert table was the closest I can get to one-way mirror / hidden camera-style market research. A behaviorist’s study, if you will, of homo-sapien activity at the holiday dessert table.

Here’s what I learned.

-Kids will try cake. If they like it, they will then quickly grab two or three additional slices.

-Adults will eat a whole cookie if they like it. But the adult cookie rhythm can be somewhat elusive as the time from study to grab can be lightening fast. From what I could see, it goes something like this.

Step One: Bite cookie.

Step Two: Whilst mulling the taste, study the cookie’s appearance at close range.

Step Three: If cookie passes muster, eat remainder of cookie and take another—“for a friend. “

-Frosted items like cake are similar, and the following behavior seems to apply to both the child and adult of the species:

Step One: Bite Frosting.

Step Two: Mull taste.

Step Three: If frosting passes muster finish eating slice. If not, deposit remainder onto serviette. Then deposit filled serviette on rear corner of dessert table. (Thus somewhat fulfilling the belief that the cake part of cupcakes is merely a vessel to carry the frosting.)

(Are you keeping up? Let me know if you need this put into a Visio Workflow illustration.)

Every once in a while I was treated to a bonus when people would approach the desserts in pairs. Usually one of the pair was the designated taster. The other would watch intently for visual cues as to whether the item in question was acceptable. If it was, then the item was either shared (women) or an additional piece was procured (men and married couples.) Verbal cues were few and far between in this sampling; only the occasional, “Well?” and nodding “Mmmm, okay…” could be sampled.

I was gratified by the overall positive response. Refreshingly, Mr. Magazine Editor broke the stereotype I’ve held of people in the fashion business by eating several Fleur de Sel Chocolate Caramel Cookies.

This holiday season I decided to bake along the path of least resistance – in other words, stick to small, easily baked items that pack intense flavors, so my game plan for Laura’s Holiday Open Studio was simple. You’ve seen the aforementioned Fleur de Sel Caramel cookies here before; this time they were the most labor-intense part of the program because I wanted to bring the rolled, cookie cutter sandwich version.

Alongside those was a cookie experiment. Last week’s blog featured the classic Snickerdoodle. I prefer a bit more kick at Christmas, so using the same recipe, I added a large amount of ground cinnamon and ginger, along with chopped, crystallized ginger, and a touch of red sanding sugar on the outside. The resulting cookie, newly dubbed the “Ginger Doodle” promises to become a holiday favorite.

But the third item was my favorite. All season long I have been reading recipes or watching TV cooks bake rather aggressively flavored Gingerbread Cake, no doubt trying to hew closer to Pain D’Epices – the classic French spiced Honey Cake. I wanted something a bit simpler and kid friendly. My version of gingerbread is pumped with chocolate and the most aggressive it gets is a touch of vanilla and a jolt of coffee which are there primarily to pump up the chocolate even more.

My puzzlement was that I wanted to serve something creamy (like whipped cream) on the gingerbread, but knew that the cake needed to sit out for a few hours, making whipped cream impractical. Before too long it would break down and become liquid, plus leaving whipped cream out in a warm room is risky business for people’s stomachs.

A spiced Italian Meringue got the job done, and because it is cooked and therefore stable, stood high and proud on top of each piece of cake for the entire party (or at least as long as the cake lasted.)

All this baking, all this chocolate and ginger and cinnamon and sugar: My house smells good!

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Click here for the recipe for Chocolate Gingerbread Cake.

If you’re feeling ambitious but need a bit of cookie baking technique and guidance, read the Butter Flour Eggs Cookie Primer 101 for some basic cookie-baking tips.

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Are you still trying to finish Santa’s List? Check out Laura Loving’s incredible, affordable range of holiday gifts. Each piece of art features her iconic designs and will be cherished for years to come.

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The Ronald McDonald House of New York is an amazing facility which provides a temporary “home-away-from-home” for pediatric cancer patients and their families. The Ronald McDonald House is supported entirely by private donations. Please read about this amazing place, and keep them in mind when considering your year-end charity donation.

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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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after school snack 101: my major

I was summoned for jury duty last week. I no sooner arrived at the courthouse when a few tumbles of my name in a little metal drum and a few generic questions resulted in my being seated on a jury.

If I could just have that kind of luck with lottery tickets.

At the beginning I’m sure my fellow jurors and I shared the same thought: “Golly, this is just like “Law & Order.” Actually, that’s not true. It’s much easier to be seated as a member of a real jury than it is to be cast on “Law & Order.” But it doesn’t take long for it to dawn on you: that man in the robe is a real judge, those are real police, and they are carrying real guns. However, those are minor realities when it dawns on you that the impact your verdict could have on the direction of a young person’s life could be profound. This weighed heavily on us.

I won’t bore you with the details of the case except that it was for a minor felony. Unlike “12 Angry Men“, our deliberations were a model of civility and compromise, and our verdict was one that I’m sure brought us all peace of mind. We were a fairly diverse group, albeit with some similarities that were the reasons the prosecutor and defense attorney chose us. A jury in the midst of deliberations is a great study in group dynamics.

The latter is no idle thought. I have recently been conversing with a friend who, at mid-life, has returned to school for a Masters degree in Social Work. Her specialty at the moment? Group dynamics.

I always consider the fact that I do not have to return to school in the fall one of the great rewards of adulthood. But that’s me. I certainly understand the desire and / or need of returning to school, but it always makes me think of when I was a kid and had to dive into a cold lake: I’d pinch my nose and close my eyes and gird myself for the inevitable shock of the chill.

Adults who return to school, and who, like my friend continue to work full time, have their hands full. Time was, students heading off to college would be given dictionaries or typewriters as gifts. Obviously computers have made those obsolete. Actually, wouldn’t a better gift for adults returning to school be a nice roasted chicken with sides? That’s one or two less meals they’ll have to worry about. Kids have a slightly easier time of it, although you do hear a lot about how kids are oversubscribed with after-school activities these days.

When I was a kid, I would return home from school (a twelve mile walk through three foot deep snow in ninety degree weather) with my mind focused on my afternoon snack. This is where I realize how much times have changed since I was a kid. What I considered a snack back then would now seem downright skimpy: a few graham crackers, or maybe a few Ritz Crackers with peanut butter (“everything sits good on a Ritz…”). Every now and then a bowl of cereal would find its way onto the snack menu. Let me clarify: my snack was not all of the above. It was one of the above. And the cereal was likely Rice Crispies or Corn Flakes; my Mother was suspicious of Cap’n Crunch. Was she concerned about my sugar intake? Hardly. Her concern was more that I would not “…ruin my appetite for dinner.”

I’m not going to tell you that we were much more active than kids are now: the TV and I had a rather intimate relationship. But I can tell you that our eating habits were different. Were our expectations lower?

Inspired by this, I decided to make some minor magic: a little cake that kids and adults could snack on that wouldn’t break the caloric bank. Not (by any stretch of the imagination) diet food, but an appealing, tempting snack that was actually fairly healthy. The type of thing we used to call “wholesome” before that became uncool. A Marie Osmond cake in a Paris Hilton world.

It’s fall. What better starting point than apples?

Apple Cake is a fairly standard dessert in New England, certainly also in diners everywhere. I realized that as popular as Apple Pie is, many people find making the crust daunting. Apple Cake solves that problem. The downside is that unless quite a bit of sugar has been added, baking sliced apples in cake batter always tends to blunt the sweetness of even the tangiest of apples. I solved this by stealing a page from the Apple Pancake playbook: I cooked the apples separately, and then added them to the already cooled cake. In the cake, canola oil takes the place of butter, and low fat Greek yogurt adds a little lightweight richness. Actually, the cake is so good that it will pair with anything, and would be a great light alternative to biscuits for a twist on Strawberry Shortcake. I topped the cake with a bit of yogurt I’d sweetened with confectioners’ sugar—totally unnecessary, but a nice little bonus.

Since the cake is assembled in just a few simple steps, parents and kids will have a fun time making this cake together.

That’s my kind of homework.

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Click here for the recipe for After School Apple Snack Cake.

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Just like "Jawdin Mahhhsh!"

This is one of THOSE years: the Labor Day weekend is late and the Jewish holidays are early; in fact, they commence just a couple of days after the weekend. I’m no sooner rinsing the beach sand from my feet when I have to start thinking about dessert for the family Rosh Hashanah dinner — my yearly assignment. Luckily I have had a little something stored in the back of my mind for a few weeks.

When I wrote about blueberries a few weeks ago I mentioned — almost in passing — the famous blueberry muffins from Boston’s beloved but now dearly departed Jordan Marsh department store. I haven’t been able to get those off my mind. When you have an itch you’re not supposed to scratch it, but I’m only human: I can’t resist.

On paper the Jordan Marsh blueberry muffin is an unlikely star: oversized, sugar-crusted, less muffin than cake, and perhaps even a bit on the dry side, although the better for dunking because of it.

(Does anyone still dunk? Never my cup of tea — pardon the pun — dunking was best demonstrated by Clark Gable in the movie “It Happened One Night.” Yeah, they still call them “Dunkin’ Donuts” but I don’t think anyone still does. Please correct me if I am wrong.)

Ask any Bostonian, current or former, about the Jordan Marsh muffin and you will likely get some kind of fond memories recalled about Aunties or Grandmothers bringing them on visits, not to mention quick side trips to “Jawdin’s” bakery counter whilst in the store on other business. While muffins are usually reserved for breakfast or Hollywood gift giving (muffin baskets are big business out there), we were never shy about occasionally eating the Jordan Marsh muffins for dessert.

Like dunking, the Jordan Marsh blueberry muffin is no doubt the product of a different age. For a big chunk of the mid-twentieth century, the big department stores always had in-house bakeries. Granted many, including Macy’s (which absorbed the Jordan Marsh chain some years ago), still do. But with rare exceptions the fare is trucked in from a vendor. The stuff they sell is hit or miss. The old time department store bakery was likely a bit more modest in scope, with muffins, cakes, cookies, and brownies (the Jordan Marsh nostalgia silver medalist) being the focus. I have a fond memory of my Mom returning home with a B. Altman’s Chocolate Cake from a trip accompanying my Dad to New York City. That was a few years ago — B. Altman’s is a library now — but I remember that big swirly-frosted cake as if it was last week. The latter will likely produce a phone call from my Mom remarking on my elephantine memory.

But I mention that cake as an illustration of the aesthetic I am trying to highlight. I can’t say for sure that everything those bakeries sold was golden, but it was good dependable stuff that didn’t try too hard.

This brings us back to blueberry muffins and an early Rosh Hashanah. I thought it might be nice to let summer influence the choice of desserts this year. They usually are tinged with the rustier flavors and colors of the fall season, like my pumpkin cake from last year. This year they’ll be bright and summery, and the aforementioned idea of serving blueberry muffins for dessert seems apt.

Two problems, or shall I say, minor roadblocks, require equally minor detours: The first is that “Jawdin’s” is gone and so are their muffins. The second is that I can’t serve muffins at a holiday dinner. Serving muffins as dessert is a cute trick best saved for another time.

Luckily, I can easily swerve around both roadblocks. Jordan Marsh may be gone, but with a bit of internet digging the real, real, recipe (as opposed to the real recipe) is not hard to find. And if I don’t want to serve muffins for dessert I can just pour the batter into a cake pan or two and serve it as a cake.

I did just that, using two five inch cake pans which gave them great height. But feel free to use one standard eight or nine inch pan.

My only real problem was my own nagging desire to bring my own twist to this recipe. Luckily a little experimentation quickly made me retreat from that idea. I thought it might be nice to serve this as a real cake, including frosting. Bad idea. I tried a simple white frosting which had the double whammy of making the whole thing too sweet while completely obliterating the blueberry flavor. Ditto a really nice lemon frosting: triple whammy. Too sweet, no blueberry, all lemon.

So, going back to basics, I decided to let the cake shine as is, in all its basic mid-century home-spun glory, kind of like an edible version of thumbing through an old copy of Life Magazine. For the holiday dinner, if I decide to gild the lily at all it will be by dabbing a bit of barely sweetened whipped cream on the plate, as much for looks as for the blueberries and cream simulation.

Bear in mind that the highlights of these muffins, the crunchy sugar crown, the thick brown crust, and the abundance of blueberries are the things that require just the slightest extra attention while mixing the batter: be sure to carefully fold in the blueberries with a rubber spatula using caution to break the berries as little as possible. And the sugary, crusty crown? Just use a heavy hand with the sugar. As with any muffin, mix this relatively heavy batter as little as possible.

And if you’ve just got to make muffins, I say, “Go for it,” but be sure to fill the muffin tins almost to the top so they develop a big crunchy “crown,” Don’t use paper liners or you won’t get the trademark brown crust.

Everybody out of the water! Fall is here!

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Click here for the recipe for “Jordan Marsh Blueberry Cake.”

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

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

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Savory Prosciutto Gruyere Cake

Parisians and New Yorkers have an awful lot in common. We both take undeserved hits for rudeness (I’m not rude, I’m just reserved), we both live in congested cities that are often crammed full of tourists (I’ll never forget the day I heard a woman at the corner of 44th and 8th yell at the top of her lungs, “GET OUT OF MY CITY!”), and we both love to eat.

I’ll give the Parisians points here. I’ll concede that, as “head-spinningly” great as New York food can be, Parisian food – especially bread and pastry – may be better. Or am I comparing pommes to oranges?

For New Yorkers, a great deal of entertaining is done over shared meals in restaurants. There are a few reasons why: many New Yorkers have small kitchens — small enough that they were built with the thought of limited use. Also, many New Yorkers do not have space for a dining room table, often making due with couple of stools at a counter, or a table for two folded or pushed into a corner.  (Furnishing a New York apartment is a game of constant tradeoffs where potential pieces of furniture compete for finite space. Dining tables often lose out to sofas. Flat panel TVs have been a boon: hang them on the wall and you’ve gotten rid of a major space gobbler, the TV table.)

While this sounds like New Yorkers are living lives of some kind of dining privation, nothing could be further from the truth. The sheer variety of cuisine just down the block or around the corner more than compensates. Only in a big city like New York can your Monday through Friday dinners take you from Down South to Down East to Vietnam, and back, even if you are a Kosher vegan.

The great New York City home buffet is often served from a coffee table, an arrangement I enjoy, as seconds are never far out of reach. Often, during the week entertaining consists of quick cocktails or wine at someone’s apartment before heading out to a restaurant. It is for the latter type of entertaining that Parisians have come up with a great idea: cake salée.

The English translation of cake salée is “savory cake”, and the implications are obvious: instead of fruit or chocolate and lots of sugar, a savory cake is made with hors d’oeuvre ingredients such as meat, cheese, and herbs. The job of a cake salée is to give folks having a little pre-dinner beverage a little pre-dinner – alcohol absorbing nibble. This frees the host from the bondage of preparing a variety of little cracker-borne nibbles.

A sensible idea, I think, although I suspect that if Americans had thought of it first the French may have turned up their noses; the convenience-over-art factor may have offended them. (Or am I paranoid?)

Of course, this is really just a baking powder or baking soda quick bread, not that far from drop biscuits or muffins. I baked a version of this over the weekend, using a variation of my Asiago Cocktail Bread recipe from last year. My version this past weekend stuck to the meat and cheese formula by using gruyere and prosciutto. It was delicious, although to be honest I think the combination lacked a certain spark of originality.

I think the challenge — and here’s where the French would approve — is to bring art to the convenience by choosing combinations that are not, to borrow a phrase from a friend, “typical.” So while the combination of prosciutto and gruyere was delicious, it was also predictable: a little bacony, a little cheesy, with the richness (heft?) that accompanies a double dose of indulgent ingredients.

Better would have been something with a touch of surprise without the extreme my Dad used to call “baloney and whipped cream.”

Roasted figs and rosemary sound like an unlikely pairing, but the intensity of the roasted figs would more than match the power of the rosemary, especially if roasted with a touch of brandy or calvados and a bigger touch of honey before mixing into the cake salee’s batter.

Of course, unroasted figs pair beautifully with Gorgonzola Dolce cheese, but I’ll have to run this cake salée through the Butter Flour Eggs Testing Lab; I’ll happily make this sacrifice as I have a few concerns about how the cheese will appear in the cake.  I’ll likely stick with a Gorgonzola Dolce with minimal blue veins.

Caramelized onion and black olive would bring a great sweet and salty combo to cocktail hour without a sugary hit, and would bring to mind Pissaladière – the classic French onion tart.

The standard 8” x 4” size loaf pan is fine for this bread / cake, but I also experimented with a 5” x 3” mini loaf pan and I think I prefer using the smaller pan. When the little loaves are sliced, each piece is the perfect size for pre-dinner nibbles.

No one will beg you to share a piece with them.

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Click here for my recipe for Savory Prosciutto Gruyere Cake.

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