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Archive for the ‘party food’ Category

Flower Cookie Centerpiece

Mr. Maple Tree, a certain gentleman who resides outside of my living room window, has finally started to sprout leaves. I noticed this development about a week ago when one tiny little green bud appeared at the end of a branch. This week he is displaying what looks like green pom-poms. Soon those will grow into full-fledged clusters of green leaves. Tree hugger? Me?

I love winter, but will happily admit that this year’s snow fest was a bit of overkill on the part of Mother Nature. My winter boots asked for disaster pay. (Rim shot, please.)

Bottom line: finally, spring is here.

In the Big Apple this is school vacation week. I live near a middle school that normally clangs with the screeches of hundreds of teens. But the quiet this morning reminded me of a western town in a John Wayne movie just before the Dalton gang arrives. The only thing missing was the tumbleweeds.

I am an unapologetic Peeps addict, so I tend to think of Easter as Christmas with marshmallow. Oh, and instead of poinsettias, tulips and daffodils are on display. While I’d love to have a garden—and a gardener to maintain it—alas, it seems as a dweller of the big city the only crop I seem to be able to grow with any abundance is dust. (There’s a joke there, somewhere. Something about dust bunnies and Easter bunnies, but I haven’t quite figured it out yet.)

I enjoy watching Ina Garten, TV’s Barefoot Contessa walk outside her kitchen door to snip something from her garden and arrange it simply in a water glass and use it as a centerpiece. I could try the same thing, but there’s no rosemary growing in the hallway. (My landlord would frown on that.)

You do what you can with what you’ve got. I can’t grow flowers but I can bake them. So try this on for size: a little Martha Stewart-style crafts project I call the Butter Flour Eggs Cookie Centerpiece.  I started using cookies as cake decoration a while ago, so it is not a stretch for me to try to find other venues in which to display their beauty. (My first thought was to use them as Christmas tree decoration. But living in a New York apartment, there are a few disincentives to leaving food sitting around.)

At heart the cookies are made from basic shortbread dough—my same easy to roll recipe that I used on Valentine’s Day. To my eye these sugary flowers always look like they were drawn with a sparkly crayon, which makes them perfect for occasions where children will be among the celebrants. Using a bit of royal icing (a/k/a edible Elmer’s Glue) I attached a bamboo skewer to each one and grounded that firmly in a cupcake. Two or three plates of those down the center of a long table will be my centerpiece at Easter dinner.

The color palette is your choice; you can see I gravitated towards groovy ‘60’s yellow and pink. I won’t be insulted if you find my choice a bit loud and decide to go with something a bit more subtle (zzzzzzz). Your choices are as wide as the colors of sanding sugar you can find. For these cookies I recommend rolling the dough to a hefty ¼” thick. Paint a bit of egg wash on the unbaked cookies and sprinkle with the sanding sugar before baking. Cool thoroughly before gluing the skewers with Royal icing and allow a few hours for the Royal icing to harden and dry.

Don’t feel confined by a vanilla cookie or the flower cookie cutter. A couple of Christmases ago I made little chocolate wreaths with Royal icing that looked like brown Wedgewood.

If your kids are home from school this week, the cookie centerpiece is a great project for you to supervise. And if you’re not feeling ambitious don’t worry about the royal icing and skewers: just stick the cookie right into the frosting.

This reminds me of a friend who used to have a country house. No slouch in the kitchen, if you visited him during the winter chances are you would be served a steaming plate of Cincinnati Chili. During warmer months the chili was retired but you could look forward to hand churned ice cream or “Dirt Cake” which was (I think) chocolate pudding and cake served in a real (sterilized)clay pot, topped with chocolate cookie crumbs (the dirt) and a real flower. It was pretty convincing until he started spooning it onto plates.

You can do the same thing with the cookie centerpiece, although for my money the cartoon-y quality of the cookies matches cupcakes better. Don’t go crazy with the cupcakes here—you can even use store bought. I made very simple white cupcakes and placed everything on simple white plates.

No surprise here: as usual for me the cookies are the star of the show.

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Use this recipe for the cookie dough: I Heart Shortbread Cookies.

And it’s not too late to bake for Good Friday or Easter. Click here for my recipe for Hot Cross Buns.

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Bad guy / Good hat

Frankly, I don’t know why the movie has never been made. The story has all the hallmarks of a great action film. Not to mention that there’s strong woman at the core of the story who saves the day—a great role for a young(ish) actress. Even the advertising slogan practically writes itself: “Haman. Bad guy. Nice hat.”

What follows is my “treatment” of the story of Purim. Working title, “Book of Esther: the Whole Megilla.”

Please note the following: 1.) this means I can now say that I have a movie in development. 2.) Regrettably, none of the stars mentioned are actually attached to the project—yet. 3.) Also, some events have been condensed, changed, or otherwise fabricated to serve the story arch. (Hey, it’s a movie. I’m allowed a little cinematic license.)

We open at a vast banquet in the ancient Persian capital of Shushan. The action starts with the refusal of Vashti (Megan Fox), the wife of King Ahasuerus (Jude Law) to be seen in front of people—as the King has requested– without her veil. For her refusal she is banished. (Hopefully with a good pre-nup in tow.) The King decides to have a competition to find the new Queen. First, they will spend a year in his harem, all expenses paid, being groomed for the role.

Hadassah, (Anne Hathaway? Natalie Portman? Drew Barrymore?) a Jewish orphan raised by her cousin Mordechai (Mark Ruffalo), is helping a friend (not a starring role) prepare to compete for a chance to be in the King’s harem. While retrieving a piece of forgotten luggage from her friend’s cart, a gust of wind blows the contents of the luggage into the street. The task of retrieving the wind-blown clothes is made easier by the assistance of a handsome, yet intimidating stranger in a three-cornered hat (Leonardo diCaprio.) A protective Mordechai is suspicious of the handsome stranger’s attentions to Hadassah.

Cut to the group of harem-wannabes who have now finished competing. Hadassah stands off to the side, but notices that the people who are in charge of the competition are looking at her and nodding in agreement to something the stranger in the three-cornered hat has told them. Much to her surprise, they announce that Hadassah has been chosen for the harem. She glances at the handsome stranger in the three-cornered hat. He nods at her and smiles. (Please note: I created this “meet-cute” plot device. Hey, it’s a movie.)

Hadassah is reluctant, but Mordecai admonishes her to join the harem yet warns her to conceal her Jewish identity. She assumes the typically Persian name Esther, and enters the harem where the King chooses her as his new Queen.

Soon after, a now somewhat lonely Mordechai is drowning his sorrows at bar not far from the palace gates. He overhears two members of the King’s court planning to assassinate the King. Mordechai relays the information to Esther who tells the King. The plotters are caught and executed.

The King (now suffering from insomnia – no doubt brought on by all that stress) then names a new Prime Minister to his court: the stranger in the three-cornered hat enters and is introduced to the court: Haman. The court bows to the new man in charge.

The King orders a parade in Haman’s honor. As the procession makes its way around Shushan, everyone bows to Haman except Mordechai who insists that as a Jew he bows only to God. Haman is not pleased.

In the meantime the insomniac King is reading court documents in the middle of the night when he comes across records that indicate that Mordechai was the one responsible for uncovering the assassination plot against him. He asks Haman how he should honor a man who has been so loyal to the king. Thinking the king is referring to him, Haman replies that a full dress parade is in order.

When Haman finds out that the parade is for Mordechai he is enraged, and, egged on by Mrs. Haman (Keira Knightly?), makes a monetary deal with the sleep-deprived and unwitting King to kill all the Jews in Persia. He and his wife draw lots (“purim”) to decide the date of the massacre. On that date Persians will be free to kill Jews and steal their property. The Jews will not be allowed to defend themselves.

Mordechai begs Esther to talk to the King about this. Problem: if she tries to speak to the King without being summoned she could be put to death. In a courageous move, she seeks out the King who agrees to see her. She asks if she can have dinner with the King and Haman. The meal is arranged during which Haman’s evil plans are revealed and that Esther is Jewish, and therefore, one of his targets. The King orders Haman’s execution, but he escapes and leads the plot against the Jews, although now the Jews have the King’s permission to defend themselves. Our movie climaxes with Esther defeating Haman in a thrilling sword fight. (Outcome? Esther and the Jews 1, Haman and the bad guys 0. However, we reserve the right to be ambiguous about whether or not Haman meets his maker, leaving the door open for sequels.)

Thrilling, no? A total girl-power flick. And high-concept too. How great is it that we have a head start on the merchandising and tie-ins? For hundreds of years little children have been celebrating Purim by dressing as Queen Esther or Haman, and making loud noises whenever Haman’s name is mentioned. It should not come as a surprise that my favorite part of the celebration was always eating  Hamantaschen, the little pastry shaped to echo Haman’s three-cornered hat. Holiday-themed food seems to have always been my raison d’etre.

Growing up I always found Hamantaschen suspiciously close to Danish pastry; in fact there was one very cakey variety (that I haven’t seen since I was a kid) that would be perfect in the morning with a little coffee. Hamantaschen have traditionally been filled with jams, and prune, or poppy fillings—the latter was always my preference.

As an adult I question the absence of chocolate in this equation. Thousands of years of Purim celebrations and we’re still stuffing our faces with the equivalent of a prune Danish? This is something I must fix.

The result is the crunchy shortbread brim filled with a slightly chewy chocolate crown seen in the photo above. The filling isn’t terribly gooey, so your little Queen Esther won’t get her gown dirty. If you’re like me and believe chocolate goes with everything, these should make you happy.

By the way if you think my story treatment is too heavy, I have a lighter version that might make a good Disney animated musical. (Esther would be the first Jewish princess. Okay, the first Jewish Disney princess.)

Working title?  “I’ll Eat My Hat” Cute, huh?

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Click here for the recipe for Hamantaschen.

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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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Wash down with a bit of bubbly...

Living in a big city like New York is like an immersion course in eavesdropping. You can’t help it: step outside your apartment and you’re in a world of other people’s business. Elevators are the bull’s eye in this conversational target. The image of New Yorkers packed into an elevator staring silently at the changing floor numbers is only partly true; there are enough folks willing to air their dirty laundry in this venue to give reality TV a run for its money. (My brother used to “goose” the crowded elevator reality game by turning to his wife and scolding, “Put that gun away!”)

This was true even BCP (before cell phone); the spice that cell phones have added is that you often have to imagine half of the conversation. (I say “often” because there are enough folks who carry the weight of the whole conversation solo to more than compensate for the absence of person at the other end. Some time ago I was standing in the lobby of a theater during intermission and was treated to a gentleman’s loud and vivid description of his root canal earlier that day. I gave him a look that said, “Really?” so he turned away but kept up his loud play-by-play because, obviously, if he couldn’t see me then I couldn’t hear him. Cell phone logic?)

It should come as no surprise that the eavesdropped conversation of late centers on New Year’s Eve. Everyone is answering the musical question, “What are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” More often than not the answer is, “Staying home.” (Granted, the frequency of that specific answer rises in direct relation to the age of the respondent.)

No comments about my age, please; I am enthusiastically joining the hordes staying home this year. Friends can stop by if they like, and, not to worry, I can feed them. Staying home on New Year’s Eve means one thing to me: food. But be warned: on New Year’s Eve I feel no obligation to have an entrée and willingly make a meal out of appetizers. This year “Nibbles R Us.”

Naturally any New Year’s Eve nibble must be bubbly compatible. The bubbly of choice this year is Prosecco, the delicately sweet Italian sparkling wine, or Ginger Ale. (Being a lightweight, I’m good for one slug of Prosecco before changing to Ginger Ale. Friends who stop by during their night of revelry will finish the Prosecco for me.)

Making bubbly-compatible nibbles is easy: anything goes with Prosecco (and Ginger Ale.) Cheese and good crackers; Zabar’s Lobster Pâté on skinny toast points; Spiced Pecans are an easy treat: I lightly sauté pecans with a dot of butter, a touch of brown sugar, a little salt, and some crushed, fresh rosemary—not unlike the legendary bar pecans served at Manhattan’s Union Square Café (theirs includes cayenne pepper, good with Ginger Ale, not so great (my opinion) with Prosecco. So I leave it out.)

But I think the star of the show will be little Potato-Rosemary Pizzettas. Making these is as simple as making (or buying) pizza dough, rolling it into small pieces then topping each with a couple of very thinly sliced potato slices, rosemary, pine nuts, and sea salt before baking in a very hot oven. (The hot oven will roast the potato slices, so make sure the slices are thin.) A few of these will make a great dinner. (I like to use an assortment of different color potatoes, but feel free to use your favorite kind.)

These can be re-warmed easily throughout the evening, and I think they are great as is. However, I reserve the right to “gild the lily” at the last minute. If I do, then the slightest dab of crème fraiche and a grain or two (or three) of decent caviar will swaddle baby 2011 in a luxurious blanket.

Don’t think for a second that the whole nibble concept can’t be extended to include dessert. I’ll be making tiny chocolate chip cookies, (a surprisingly adept Prosecco partner), fresh raspberries (created by Mother Nature specifically to be dropped into sparkling wine), and shot glass-sized hot fudge sundaes. The latter will be doing double duty: dessert first, then something sweet to ring in the New Year (I have a superstition whereby the first thing I eat in the New Year should be sweet.) (My short cut for these short sweets? Buy a little good fudge and melt it over a double boiler. The sundaes may be small, but they should be deadly, yes?)

Here’s my New Year’s toast to you: Thank you for reading my blog. Thank you for your support. May the New Year find you happy, healthy, and well fed. For hints on the latter, visit here often. Don’t be a stranger.

Happy New Year!

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Click here for the recipe for my Pizza Dough recipe.(Makes approximately 64 Pizzettas.)

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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!

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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Pull Apart Bread: Christmas potluck chic

The little kid in me resents it when Christmas falls on a weekend. There’s no logic to my resentment, after all, like most folks I will take just as much time off as I would have if the holiday fell on a Wednesday.  Most of my big holiday obligations have already been met: the tree is up, my cards are in the mail, and the majority of my holiday party baking is done. That can only mean one thing: it’s Holiday Movie Time. Bing Crosby is rehearsing, Rosie Clooney is getting into her costume, and Jimmy Stewart is getting ready to lasso the moon.

The splashy grand finale of this year’s holiday party baking was a friend’s annual holiday party. I don’t want to say he’s been giving this party for a long time but I think the guests at his first holiday party arrived bearing frankincense and myrrh. (Rim shot, please.)

ANYWAY, the party has always served as a laboratory for me to try out the big show off-y baking that you can only get away with around the holidays.  Over the years there have been Yule logs, cookie Christmas trees, and cookie tributes.

Cookie tributes you ask? Not to worry: there were no cookies in the shape of Elvis. But a few years back all of my holiday cookies were citrus flavored in tribute to the big cartons of Florida citrus fruit we would find sitting on our snowy doorstep each Christmas courtesy of my dad’s best childhood buddy. (Frosted orange-spice cookies were my favorite that year.) Ah, restraint…

This year I somehow had it in my mind to celebrate a slightly more humble aesthetic. I didn’t have a specific game plan in mind when the season started, but following the path of holiday basics from salted caramel-dipped chocolate drop cookies to Snickerdoodles to chocolate gingerbread revealed my destination the same way as when you pick your way through the trees and suddenly find yourself on the beach.

Two things come to mind here: the first is my fear that I may have been turning my nose up at this humble aesthetic—indulging in the sort of food snobbery that I outwardly confess to abhor. The second is that while I consider my experiences cooking and eating to be as much about educating myself as they are about eating well, I sometimes need to be reminded that I can learn as much from a really great brownie as I can from a really great Éclair. It’s up to me to keep my eyes open, yes?

I wanted to bake something for the party that had a relaxed, family / sharing / party feeling; flipping through a few copies of Life Magazine from December 1960 helped me to focus on the kind of friendly, frilly, holiday food I thought would still work at Christmas Dinner fifty years hence: a sort of Potluck Chic.

Please don’t confuse this with the smirking wink at “White Trash” cooking that came and went a few years back. This isn’t Bologna Macaroni and Cheese; It is Nancy Reagan serving Monkey Bread at The White House.

With all that in mind I settled on a simple Cheddar Pull-Apart Bread that had intrigued me some time ago while flipping through a cheap cookbook. A more savory, perhaps more sober relative of Monkey Bread, it also owes some of its DNA to the flaky, buttery Parker House roll. And the way my mind works, when I bake bread I especially prize yeasty concoctions that are as good—or better—toasted the next morning. A slice of this bread with a fried egg on top is my holiday breakfast of choice this year. (Thankfully there are two holidays so I can still have my yummy Yeast Waffles.)

The concept is easy: divide unbaked bread dough into ten even pieces, spread with the savory filling of choice, stack the pieces, then squeeze into a loaf pan and bake. Served warm, friends and loved ones can then “pull apart” the loaf. The recipe attached is very basic, but I’m anxious to try it with Challah dough. Add a bit of cinnamon and sugar and you’ve got an enviable sweet breakfast loaf.

Folks who fear working with yeast dough should feel free to try this concept with store-bought pizza dough. It crusty chewiness will pair beautifully with olive oil and a bit of chopped garlic as the filling. I may have to bring this to a big “five fishes” Christmas Eve dinner.

Have a wonderful holiday—the best of the season to you. Don’t forget to leave some cookies for Santa, and carrots for the reindeer.

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Click here for the recipe for Cheddar Herb Pull Apart Bread.

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!

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!

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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But did you really need those fillings?

Have you noticed that when it comes to Halloween we very happily stick to tradition? Once a Milky Way lover always a Milky Way lover, eh? You’ll get no complaint from me on this: fill my “Trick or Treat” bag with Hershey’s Miniatures and I’m happy as a clam — and very likely riding the subway next to someone dressed like one.

One of my Halloween traditions is Jack O’Lantern cookies, a tradition that got rolling when I realized my pumpkin carving skills lacked verve.

While it would be fun to regale you with stories of my Halloweens gone by, of bucolic adventures in pumpkin patches, and of coming back home to warm spiced cider after a chilly carouse collecting candy while wearing some brilliantly frightening costume that my Mother made from an old slipcover and a Quaker Oats box, the truth was a bit more…ordinary. I dressed as Yogi Bear in a costume we bought at Woolworth’s. This elaborate costume consisted of a hard plastic mask and a cape made from some scratchy material. Hey, what did I know? I thought it was great. I loved Yogi: he self-identified as being smarter than the average bear. (Everything I know about hubris I learned from Hannah-Barbera.)

Costumes aside, I’ve been trying to think of another holiday where store-bought stuff generally trumps anything you could make at home. Are you going to tell me that you can make candy corn better than the pros? I guess there’s also Easter, the other candy-fixated holiday. I could produce a heckuva Marshmallow Peep if I had to, but I know the real thing is better.

I claim one major and very personal loophole to all of this, at least where Halloween is concerned. I can’t abide store-bought Caramel Apples. Like Tuna Fish Salad, these are something that I must make at home. There are a couple of reasons why: the first is simply that I like a certain kind of apple, and if I am putting my poor, innocent fillings at risk, I like a nice cool, crunchy apple waiting for me on the other side of the caramel. No amount of Caramel can compensate for a mealy sub-par apple. (Apple snob!)

The second is that I can tell when an apple has not been not freshly dipped. The ones you buy in the store have been allowed to sit too long, and the apple sometimes has begun to seep into the caramel, and the caramel may have started to melt a bit. An iffy proposition at best. (Caramel snob!)

There is good news: as recipes go Caramel Apples are as easy as it gets: Insert stick into apple. Melt a bag of Kraft Caramels. Dip apples. (Done.)

For willpower-challenged folk (me), the hardest part is unwrapping the caramels. Physically easy, yes, but try unwrapping the entire bag without popping a few in your mouth.  The second hardest part is finding the caramels. I remember a time when bags of Kraft Caramels were everywhere and usually displayed with the rest of the Halloween candy. Lately I find I have to hunt around the supermarket; I can’t find them in the drugstore, my Halloween candy pusher of choice. Ah, the lowly caramel. If Snickers are the George Clooney of Halloween candy, caramels must be Bob Denver.

One hint you may find useful: room temperature apples dip better than chilled apples; the caramel sticks to warm apples in a very smooth, even coat. If you use chilled apples you’ll cause the caramel to firm up too soon. (It does look a little spooky though.) In the picture above, the apple on the left was chilled. The others were room temperature and have the desired smooth, glossy look.

When you’re a kid it seems like you can eat Halloween candy without a worry in the world. While my love of caramel apples has not diminished, every time I take a bite I can’t help but think that I am potentially helping my dentist pay for a really nice beach house. With that in mind, allow me to present Caramel Apples v2.0 (rated M for Mature teeth.)

Let’s start with the presentation: since warm caramel sticks to your teeth less than cold, why not serve Caramel Apples hors d’oeuvre style, sliced, tooth-picked, and accompanied by a small pot of barely warm melted caramels for dipping. (Omit the toothpicks and this is mighty kid friendly too.) I would plop a whole dipped apple in the middle of the tray – mostly for the sake of drama.

And keep in mind that the smooth sweetness of caramel makes it a great delivery system for all manner of flavors. A touch of orange liqueur will give an old friend a citrusy twist, a hint of amaretto will add the merest Italian accent, and a wee dram of Bailey’s Irish liqueur will cause someone to steal the platter, apples and all.

For folks who will miss the crunch of the hardened caramel, might I suggest offering some crushed, sea-salted almonds to sprinkle on the dipped apple slices? (That would be enough to make ­­me steal the entire tray.)

Apologies to my dentist: the beach house will have to wait another year.

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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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Still life with croutons

Have I mentioned that during a previous century I worked for a time as a waiter? There is something profound about the experience of waiting on others. Some people believe that this kind of work prepares you well for life and the workplace as a whole, and that everyone should do it for a while. A debatable point, yes, yet I think I tend to drift to the side of those who think everyone should do it for a while. Lindsay Lohan would sober up in record time if you slapped a visor on her head and put her in charge of a McDonald’s fryolator.

Lest you think I am slighting McDonald’s, I hasten to add that a former boss of mine outside of the restaurant business spent several of his teenage years working in a McDonald’s, and he was a fine boss indeed. I’ve always wondered how many of the qualities that made him such a good boss were the result of his time slapping patties on the grill.

Waiters bear witness as otherwise intelligent, educated, seemingly mature adults revert to bratty, child-like behavior (and that’s before cocktails). It can be a rueful revelation about the human condition. But there’s more to it than that. The bratty, immature behavior of those folks who have been celebrated due to their supposed culinary skills is perhaps even more of an eye opener.

In other words: your waiter is getting it from both sides. If the customers are at times unpleasant, some chefs are truly Nasty to the point of being abusive (the capital “N” is not a mistake). There’s something life altering about being yelled at by someone who looks like they showed up for work in grease-stained pajamas. Exaggerating? I think not.

One of the fine establishments at which I worked (I will withhold names to protect all parties involved) was famous for its elaborate selection of cheese, and one of the waiters found himself elevated into the role of the cheese steward. This role was similar to that of a sommelier. Sounds good in theory, although in practice this poor guy often became the chef’s whipping boy, a performance often repeated loudly and within clear earshot of the customers. It wasn’t directed at me, yet it still made my skin crawl.

Then there are the squeezes.

Waiters often find themselves squeezed firmly in the no man’s land between what chefs are willing to do for their customers and what the customers want, a/k/a, “No substitutions.” All parties blame the waiter.

There’s also bad management: seating an entire restaurant at the same time results in all orders being sent to the kitchen at the same time, which results in very slow service as the kitchen struggles to keep up. All parties blame the waiter.

Excuse me, but I thought time healed all wounds? It has been many years, and yes, I think I still sound a little bitter. Ah well, don’t cry for me; I am all smiles. You may have deduced from this harrowing tale that I bend over backwards to treat waiters well when I eat out. I do, although I am keenly attuned to poor service, and my practiced eye knows when it is the waiter’s fault, versus when it is the kitchen’s fault. I know enough to be a danger to my own enjoyment of the meal. My dirty little secret? I am not an enthusiastic eater-outer.  And I now have bad feet.

I was a crummy waiter (pardon the pun); my mind was often elsewhere, so take what I say with a grain of salt. In the meantime, here’s a funny story (ya got a minute?):

I was working a lunch shift the day after Broadway’s TONY awards.  This was a casual restaurant that attracted a surprising number of celebrities. You name ‘em, they ate there. Who should I find at one of my tables but two of the talented, celebrated actresses who had lost the previous evening? Perhaps a planned victory lunch gone awry?

I greeted them by asking, “But it was an honor just to be nominated, right?”

My props to them for restraining themselves from pummeling me about my person. Yes, sometimes it is the waiter’s fault.

One of my favorite tasks as a waiter was table side service. The reasons for this were twofold. First, the customers were hungry, happy I was there, and often engaged me in polite conversation. Second, I enjoyed making Caesar Salad, especially when I could leave a tiny bit for myself. Some nights I must have reeked of garlic. Caesar said it best, “Veni, Vidi, I ate the salad.”

And yes, one skill I took away from my waiter years is the ability to make a good Caesar Salad–at least I think they’re good, although I’ll be the first to admit that I belong to the school of “the more garlicky and parmesan-y the better.”

Caesar Salad seems to have supplanted the old wedge of iceberg with blue cheese I remember from my childhood as the salad that must be on every menu. The trouble is that the bottled, gloppy, mayonnaise-based dressing that is used is often not very good. REAL Caesar Salad–made to order from fresh ingredients–has freshness, lightness, and a bit of zing that the kind made with pre-made dressings can’t match.

Since you rarely—if ever—see the tableside version anymore in restaurants, may I recommend it as a make-at-home treat? No special tools are required, in fact, I, Mr. Kitchen Aid Devotee, discourage their use when making Caesar Salad. Two forks and a little technique are all you need. Mashing all the ingredients in a bowl with the two forks actually does a better job than a food processor or blender.

Let me address two things that may give you pause: anchovies and raw egg. Anchovies? Buy the quality kind in the glass jar. They’re not “hairy” and are much less salty than the cheap canned kind. (Mine came with a little fork to pull them out of the jar. Who doesn’t like a free utensil?) Raw egg remains a reasonable concern what with the recent problem with salmonella. If you can find pasteurized eggs, use those. Even easier is to use Egg Beaters. I know purists may take offense at this, but Egg Beaters are made from eggs, are pasteurized, and will lend a glossy richness to the emulsion similar to real eggs.

Finally keep in mind that this is an easy recipe, yes, but one that lives or dies on the quality of all the ingredients. Use good Parmesan cheese, not the deservedly maligned kind in the green shaker bottle. Buy the plainest croutons you can find, or even better, toast your own in the oven. The overly seasoned kind will overwhelm REAL Caesar Salad. (Yeah I know–sounds like Martha Stewart. But heck, I’m not asking you to bake the bread from scratch.)

Here’s a bit of celebrity gossip you won’t find on Page Six, in the Enquirer, Star, or at Perez Hilton. You’ll only get this kind of info here gang, so buckle your seat belts:

Barbra Streisand likes ginger ale with her lobster.

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Click here for the recipe for REAL Caesar Salad.

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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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Apple Ravioli (cheddar optional)

Too much information: I just read that fall begins on Wednesday, September 22 at 11:09 pm. As a baker I admire such exactitude, but I’m sure we will all be forgiven for not counting down the seconds á la New Year’s Eve. Besides, the passage from summer to fall is (in my opinion) a more psychic one than the passage from old year to new. And yes, as I have written ad infinitum, for me, it all comes back to food.

A large maple tree monopolizes the view from my living room. In the summertime its leaves are a perfect — yes — forest green. In a matter of days the leaves will abandon their summer mufti in favor of more ceremonial attire, a final blushing smile before surrendering to the winter chill. The leaves will leave and the color of the daylight in my living room will reflect their absence. Maybe I am influenced by these changes around me, but whatever the reason, when the weather begins to cool I am drawn to a different palette of flavors.

Enough of my waxy poetry. I’ll just paraphrase Ed Norton, by saying, “Hellooo Fall!”  Out with the barbecue and watermelon, in with the roast beef and apple pie. That’s not bad news: I love the fall.

Wheeling my cart around Whole Foods the other day I spotted local apples for sale. It is still early enough that I was suspicious of their vintage; have these apples been stored since last year? (A common practice.) I was not at a greenmarket, so there was no one reliable to ask. What would have been the point?  I was in the mood for something warm, apple-y, and cinnamon-y, so I cautiously bought a few. What the heck: if ya can’t eat ‘em, cook ‘em, right?

A few aisles later, I found I had somehow landed firmly on the side of cooking the apples. At first I thought of applesauce which is really easy, and when made at home really superior to the kind you buy in a jar. But the beauty–and danger–of planning a meal while still in the market is that inspiration is often just a shelf away. (Danger – temptation—usually takes the form of chocolate for me. Ah, but my lack of will power is not why you called…)

In this case the first bit of inspiration was the market’s sale on extra sharp Farmhouse cheddar cheese. I’m not sure if this is a New England “thing”, but alongside ice cream and whipped cream on the list of acceptable choices for apple pie topping we always had cheddar cheese. You heard right: cheddar cheese on apple pie. Before you dismiss this remember all of the wine and cheese you’ve had over the years. It’s the same basic dynamic. I believe the technical term is “yummy”.

Pie was not on the agenda; I was looking for something a bit lighter and less labor intense. Walking past the frozen foods I noticed frozen blintzes. I paused momentarily to consider making apple blintzes, but I just made crepes—the basis for blintzes—last week. And what would I write here? “Dear Reader: please re-read last week’s posting and add apples.”

Then from somewhere—who knows where inspiration comes from (oh, please!)—came the idea for apple ravioli. Sounds complicated, you say? Don’t worry: I’m not Martha Stewart, so I won’t be making pasta from scratch.

There’s an old trick, one you may have seen on TV, and that I used to see chefs use when making “house-made” ravioli. Wonton skins: the easiest ready-to-use, pre-made pasta on the market. Not perfect, but just right for my use.

Hustling into the kitchen, I peeled and diced the apples, then sautéed them with a bit of cinnamon, sugar, and just the slightest whiff of clove, and set them aside to cool. I grated the cheddar, and combined it with the cooled cooked apples. To mellow the mixture, round out the flavor, and bind everything together into a proper filling, I added a dab or two of cream cheese and cottage cheese. (Perhaps I still had blintzes on my mind?)

Assembling the ravioli was as easy as brushing the wonton skins with water, dropping a generous teaspoon-full of filling on top and sealing another skin on top. I used a fluted biscuit cutter to cut them into rounds – but that’s entirely optional.

To cook them, you have a choice: boil or pan fry. While pan frying isn’t quite as healthy as boiling, the trade off for frying them results in a toasty, crunchy treat with a gooey, cheesy filling. Then I sprinkled them with cinnamon and sugar which makes them sweet and adds yet another layer of crunch. (What is it with me and crunch?) They are deceptively addictive. While a caramel sauce would be nice, or perhaps a blob of vanilla ice cream, none of that is necessary. They are great on their own.

Did I mention they are also portion-controlled?

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Click here for the recipe for Apple Cheddar Ravioli.

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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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Is this dessert...or breakfast? Yes.

I have nothing against gimmicks, especially when they involve food. That’s the good news. The bad news—if you can call it that—is that I may be about to insult someone by calling fondue a gimmick. Does acknowledging that this is just my opinion take the sting off that statement?

I actually like fondue, especially the chocolate variety. I also happily admit that I may be practicing a bit of food snobbery. So sue me. As much fun as fondue can be to eat, the preparation is too easy. Cut up some chocolate (or cheese) (or both), slice some fruit, or cake, or bread, and light a match. Done. I like a bit more of a challenge even if the end result lacks polish. But that’s me.

Up until a few years ago fondue was considered a relic of postwar foodies, or at the very least, a culinary tourist trap for folks visiting Switzerland. Suddenly it was back, rediscovered by gen-x’ers the way they rediscovered the Lava Lamps downstairs at Urban Outfitters. Granted a lot of this has to do with the fact that fondue is so easy to prepare that even a kitchen-less dorm dweller can make it.

As I said, I like something that requires a bit more skill. I don’t want to make food that requires a bit of skill just so I can show off. Like so many home cooks I also want to learn new tricks and techniques. Even if the end result isn’t very good I can still eat it, or in the case of disaster, throw it away. (How many folks have had…uh… “trouble” baking a pie and ended up calling it a “crumble” instead? Yeah, I’m on to your tricks.)

Recently my Baby Niece (“BN”), an angelic, attractive, fashionable fashionista (and gen-x’er), planned a casual family meal. She texted me a request for crepes as dessert – she was having a craving for them paired with some fresh fruit and Nutella. And speaking of gimmicks…

Crepes were huge in the 60’s and 70’s. Flaming Crêpes Suzette was synonymous with fine dining dessert for the first three quarters of the twentieth century. The latter part of that period showed the rise and fall of American chain-crêperies like “La Crêpe” and “The Magic Pan.” Remember those names? If you are a certain age chances are you were towed to one of those early theme restaurants by your parents.

We’ve all heard of Crêpes Suzette but many folks are a bit vague about what this fussy dessert was all about. The gimmick was simple: get a sauté pan, throw in a few thin pancakes and some sugar, pour in some highly alcoholic, therefore extremely flammable orange-flavored liqueur, light a match, stand back and pray you won’t singe your eyebrows. The result—hopefully—was that the flame would caramelize the sugar, and burn off the alcohol, leaving a delicately-sweetened orange-scented pancake. Naturally results varied according to the skill level of the “garçon” waiting on you.

“La Crêpe” and “The Magic Pan” took the gimmick a step further by wrapping the complete meal in a crepe. “Seinfeld” fans may remember an episode where Kramer hired some guys he thought were Cubans to roll the crepes at “The Magic Pan.” Turned out they were Dominicans who rolled the crepes too tightly, a funny “Seinfeld-ian”riff on cigar snobbery.

Prior to BN’s request I had never made crepes, and that is what made the request perfect for me. Gimmick or not, this was a chance to learn something new. After doing a bit of research about recipes and techniques I got to work in the kitchen.

Most crepe recipes require that you refrigerate the batter for an hour before using. The usual explanation for this is that letting the batter rest allows any air bubbles evaporate. I suspect that there is more going on there: the longer you let the batter sit, the more hydrated the flour will get, the advantage being that the crepes will retain a bit of flexibility in the sauté pan, making them easier to flip.

The great mystery of crepes is their reputation for being difficult to remove from the pan; in fact most recipes recommend that you use a nonstick pan. I don’t have any nonstick pans, and didn’t want to buy one just to make crepes, so I used a plain 8” sauté pan. As an alternative to Teflon I used what we’ll call the oil painting method: I poured a bit of canola oil into a small bowl, folded a paper towel into a small square (approx 2” x 2”) and using my tongs, grabbed the folded towel, dipped it in the oil and “painted” a very thin layer of oil in the warm pan. I then ladled slightly less than ¼ cup of the batter in the pan before swirling it around to cover the bottom. The crepes cook very quickly (less than a minute for the first side, even shorter for the second side) and I quickly developed an assembly line rhythm (“oil, ladle, swirl, flip”) that produced about twenty crepes in about twenty minutes.

After letting the crepes cool for a few minutes, I stacked them, wrapped them tightly, and stuck them in the freezer. A few days later: I warmed them in the oven (still wrapped) for ten minutes and they were ready for their Nutella and fruit treatment.

“BN” was delighted. I was inspired. I can see serving the crepes exactly the same way (including Nutella) for breakfast. I don’t see myself making Crêpes Suzette – I am a flame-o-phobe, especially in my small kitchen. But as gimmicks go, crepes are fairly versatile, somewhat easy, and cheap (although I did see some incredibly expensive pre-made ones at the supermarket.) They’re a great make-ahead special weekend breakfast, letting you sleep later.

That’s a gimmick I really, really like.

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Click here for the recipe for Crepes.

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